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Title: Memoirs of Mrs. Rebecca Steward
Author: Steward, T. G. (Theophilus Gould), 1843-1924
Language: English
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*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Memoirs of Mrs. Rebecca Steward" ***

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    MEMOIRS OF _Mrs. Rebecca Steward_,


        D.D., EDITOR OF THE _Christian Recorder_, REV. T. GOULD, MRS.


        The motto I taught my boys was "Aim at the Sun! If you do not
        bring it down, you will shoot higher than if you had aimed at
        the earth."--REBECCA STEWARD.

    "Her children shall rise up and call her blessed."

    _Publication Department of the A. M. E. Church_,
    No. 631 Pine St., Philadelphia, Pa.


    _Copyright, 1877, by Rev. T. G. Steward._


    Senior Bishop of the African Methodist Episcopal Church:




    In Memoriam, Poem,

    PART I.

    CHAPTER I.--Ancestory and Parents,
    CHAPTER II.--Birth, Home, etc.,
    CHAPTER III.--Wife, Mother, Writer,
    CHAPTER IV.--Children all married,
    CHAPTER V.--Retrospection,
    Reminiscences, by Bishop Campbell,
    My Recollections,--Prof. B. F. Lee,
    Mrs. Rebecca Steward, by Dr. Tanner,
    Mrs. Rebecca Steward, by Rev. T. Gould,
    Aunt Rebecca Steward,--Mrs. E. Lloyd,

    PART II.

    "Two years on the Brink of Jordan,"
    Sanctification, by Mrs. R. S.,
          "             "    "
          " conclusion  "    "
    Story,              "    "
    Poetry,             "    "


A life finished, is a proper subject for contemplation and study. To
the Christian, whose eye is ever turning to the end of life, nothing
can be more interesting than the life and death of the saints. It is
never difficult to secure a large congregation to the funeral services
of a well known Christian.

In looking upon a life closed, from a Christian standpoint, we see the
Divine and the human blended. We see human nature moulded by divinely
cast circumstances; we see character developed and displayed through
these occasional circumstances. The "hidden man of the heart" is
brought out, and we are able to see the _inner_ through the _outer_

To this pleasant and profitable study, the reader of these pages is
invited. He will be brought in contact with a life, humble and perhaps
commonplace, but interesting at every step, because always earnest
and real. He is invited to follow that life through a responsible,
laborious and thorny pathway; and to see manifest, a character always
glowing in brightness and stronger than any emergency.

He may learn the secret of that brightness and strength if he will. It
is not of man but of God. He may hear a faith express itself before
great difficulties (as I have often times) in these words: "Who art
thou O great mountain? before _Zerubbabel_, thou shalt become a
plain." Zech. IV. 7.

And, if his eyes are cleared to see the things of God, as were those
of Elisha's servant, as he and his master stood in the midst of the
Syrian hosts at Dothan, he will see, not the mountains round about
full of horses and chariots of fire; but a heavenly light streaming
down upon the toiler, and a crown of resplendent glory held in her
full view;--an angelic hand guiding her as she slowly pursues her way,
sometimes weeping but often singing, through the inspiration of the
hope set before her.

In presenting a sketch of this life I attempt to fulfill a threefold
duty. First, it is an act of obedience to the feelings of my own
heart. An imperious sentiment forces me to the task. This book is the
tribute I bring to cast upon the tomb of a loved mother! Secondly, I
essay to discharge this duty in obedience to the wish of many
relatives and dear friends. I feel myself honored in a very high
degree in being thus called to so delicate a responsibility, and I can
but deeply feel my inabilities. Knowing, however, their sincere regard
for the person whose name I endeavor to commemorate, I feel somewhat
encouraged to entrust to their generosity my best efforts. Lastly, the
interests of Christianity seem to demand this at my hands. A voice
from above which I regard as that of the Master urges me to lay before
the Christian world this life, as a help and solace to the many
struggling ones. Reverently bowing to this call, and imploring His
blessings upon the humble effort, I assume the pen. May the Lord own
the work! And here I desire also to express my profound thanks to
those distinguished Christians, who have contributed most essentially
to this volume, and to the many more, whose letters of sympathy and
love have furnished inspiration to the performance of this sad, yet
pleasing duty.

T. G. S.

In Memoriam.


"They are love's last gifts, bring ye flowers, pale flowers."--MRS.

    I stand alone beside the silent mound,
      The dull, cold earth beneath me, and the sky
    Dark blue o'er head.--The spacious hills around
      Nor charms the gaze of my grief wearied eye;
    Sad, tired, forlorn, I sink upon the sod,
      With rev'rent awe and mournful bareéd head,
    I try to raise my thoughts to mother's God,
      And with affection contemplate the dead.

    I am a boy again--a lisping child,
      With sunny face and merry prattling tongue;
    I totter forth with joyous fancy wild,
      And sing the lullaby we last night sung;
    My young heart bounds with radiant happiness
      As some new toy my angel-mother gives,
    Or stoops to pat my head with sweet caress,
      And my glad lips her cherished kiss receives.

    Now I am grown to boyhoods first estate;
      And thorns of life 'gin prick me one by one,--
    Now aspiration's hopes, my thoughts elate,
      And now by disappointments am cast down;
    The daily avocations of the farm
      Bring each in turn their elements of woe,
    But mother's heart, its beatings always warm,
      Is a sure haven where I ever go.

    Th' unruly horse my youthful strength o'erpowers,
      Or vicious cattle wear my patience bare,
    Each is recounted of in evening hours,
      In boyhood's confidence in mother's ear,--
    Ah! we six childish ones with each our cares--
      Bespeak we each ones place, in mother's heart,
    Where we each pour our trouble, hopes and fears,
      And mother, tenderly takes each one's part.

    And at th' appointed hour the father comes;
      His day's work o'er, prompt, day and day the same,
    Then happiest ours of all the happy homes
      Our lessons coning, or with sportive game,--
    Oh would those days of childhood linger still--
      The ev'ning game prolong--e'en daily task
    Is welcomed linger! youthful years ye will
      Be vanished and your stay in vain we ask!

    Too soon with quickning steps the eager days
      Bring manhood's strength--our childhood all outgrown
    And then for life we take our sep'rate ways,
      Each son and daughter choose a course their own;
    Too soon, alas! the shadowy curtain falls
      And sorrows, real, begin to cast their gloam,
    Our consciences' tickle with increasing galls
      As each new silv'ry hair comes to our home.

    Dear cherished ones, thy load we now wish lighter,
      Since we are grown, and see thy waning years,
    Thy daily walks we would see fair and brighter,
      But ev'ry effort still augments thy cares;
    Affliction's hand, spares not the burdened mother,
      But suff'rings, long, great, are thy constant lot;
    Nor stintless hand divides it with another
      Who'd die for thee and for thee be forgot.

    Grown, stalwart boys and buxome girls we all are
      And fain would bring renown to thy dear name--
    Pride to thy heart, and comfort to thy leisure
      By some good noble deeds, and worthy fame,
    Alas, how short we've come! When thou complaisant
      Looked on expectant for some virtuous act,
    How Self appeared like some fierce tigress couchant,
      And we with evil motive seemed impact!

    And thou art gone! Well do I remember
      Our childhood's days again--I'd live them o'er--
    When chilly blasts of sleeting, bleak December
      Kept us, long ev'nings, close within the door,
    We stories begged and then some Bible tale--
      Of David's valor, or Saul's treachery
    Of Moses meekness or Methus'lah hale--
      Of Abraham's faith or Esau's jealousy.

    Of Enoch's constancy in serving God,
      Of Joseph, sold a slave; of Egypt's kings,
    Of Pharaoh's plagues, and Moses' wond'rous rod,
      And of the Psalms which ev'ry Christian sings,
    Of John the Baptist, Christ the living Word
      Which was made flesh, and came and dwelt with men,
    Who was, and is, and shall be, God the Lord;
      Of His disciples, Holy ones, and then
    The Revelation, and the last Great Day,
      Each in its turn, in loving tones, was given
    And thus our mother thought to point the way
      With truthful finger, to the gates of Heaven;
    The great "Old Bible" then across her knee
      Was tender laid,--I see her sparkling eye,--
    With trem'lous voice she read the "Verily"
      And hushed, we listen'd, 'till no eye was dry.

    Then, kneeling, when the Word had well been read
      In very confidence she talked with God,
    And then with happy tears we went to bed,
      Now Mother lies beneath the silent sod!
    And thus, when father was away at toil
      In fact'ry's buzz, his cherished ones to keep,
    Giving his strength for them, in hot turmoil,
      We, his dear ones, were wrapped in blissful sleep.

    But she is gone! we've laid her down to rest
      In a soft bed of satin, white and pure
    We spread her o'er white rose buds on her breast,
      And bade her soul, waft to the better shore!
    Where mansions fair unnumbered stand prepared
      For her and hers--her Lord had told her so
    His Fathers house, to her he said, was shared
      By those who loved as she had loved below.

    And would I grieve? Yes, many a poisoned dart
      Have I with wilful hand flung straight at thee,
    Yet stood aghast, when it did prick thy heart,
      I mourn in silence, now--thou'rt gone from me;
    Father, and we, the six yet still are here
      And for thy sake will serve each others good--
    Grief answers grief, now comes the ready tear,
      To bring thee back we'd weep thee tears of blood;
    And would we weep for thee to call thee hence?
      Again instate thee in this world of woe,
    Would we rebel and murmur--dread offence--
      Against the God whose mandate bade thee go?
    Nay, wearied one, fly to thy hav'n of rest,
      God wills it so; content we are to be
    Without thee here, thou dwell'st among the blest
      Forever safe in realms prepared for thee.


Life and Character.



In Cumberland County, in the southern part of the State of New Jersey,
may be found a little settlement called "Gouldtown." It contains a
church, a school house, a blacksmith shop, a wheelwright shop, two
stores and a post office. The community is made up almost entirely of
farmers, and is of course very conservative as to modes of thought and

It takes its name from the large family of Gould's who have so long
occupied the place. There are, however, three other families more or
less intermixed with the Gould family; viz: The Pierces, the Murrays,
and the Cuffs; but the Goulds have usually maintained the leading
position, both in number and influence.

Tradition connects this family with the early settlers of the State.
John Fenwick, an Englishman, who had been a Major in the Parliamentary
army under Cromwell, and who had been specially appointed by Cromwell
to "see the sentence of death pronounced against the king, (Charles
I.,) executed, in the open streets before Whitehall," after the
Restoration emigrated to America. He had adopted the religious views
of George Fox, and became associated with William Penn.

He arrived in New Jersey (Caesarea) in the year 1675, accompanied by
his three daughters, two of whom were married, their husbands, five
grandchildren, and ten servants.

One grand-daughter, Elizabeth, aged at the time of their arrival in
America at eleven years, subsequently caused him much grief, and, it
is said did much to bring his gray hairs in sorrow to the grave. "He
does not disguise the sense of shame that hangs over him from her
course of life, and strives to make her understand his displeasure, by
depriving her of any part of his property, immediate or prospective,
but on certain conditions."--_Life of John Fenwick by John Clemens._

The crime committed by Elizabeth, was uniting herself in wedlock to a
_black man_. It may have been an informal wedlock; as perhaps no one
could be found in the colony who would have dared solemnize or record
such a marriage. For its legality it may have had to depend upon
Heaven's authority, and not upon the par-blind courts of men. The
"certain conditions" upon which Elizabeth might share a part of her
grandfather's property were, to leave "that Black," and repent of her
sins. (See Fenwick's will.)

A tradition universally accepted, connects the Goulds with the issue
of this marriage. The name of this man, however, is not found in any
of the family records, and in Fenwick's will he is simply
contemptuously called "that Black." A vague tradition says he was a
slave whom Fenwick purchased of some trading vessel, giving in
exchange for him a barrel of rum. If this should be true, the sequel
shows how large a trouble he bought with a small price.

Benjamin Gould, the first Gould of whom we have any record, is
declared to be the son of this Elizabeth. He is supposed to have had a
brother named Richard. The dust of Benjamin Gould and "Ann" his wife,
lies buried in the old family graveyard at Gouldtown.

To them were born Elisha, Abijah, Samuel and Anthony. Samuel died
January 26th, 1793, and Abijah in 1806. Very little, indeed, is known
of this generation.

It was simply an obscure family, struggling against terrible odds, and
yet possessing intelligence sufficient to preserve some records and
establish a graveyard.

The graveyard is a hallowed rallying place. Abraham's first possession
in the land of promise was a family burying ground; and to this sacred
spot as a last earthly resting place, his immediate descendants were
taught to look.

To Abijah Gould were born Benjamin, Richard, Abijah Jr., Furman,
Leonard and Hannah.

FURMAN GOULD was for many years a licensed local preacher in the
African M. E. Church and was an honored member of the Philadelphia
Annual Conference. The older members of that Conference will readily
remember his venerable appearance, coupled with his somewhat brusque
and positive manners. He was a man who had views of his own, and the
hardihood to express them.

BENJAMIN GOULD quite early in life married Phoebe Bowen, a young woman
brought up in the family of Reuben Cuff of Salem, N. J. To them were
born Oliver, Tamson, Lydia, Jane, Abijah, Sarah, Rebecca, Phoebe and

This Benjamin Gould, the brother of the Rev. Furman Gould, is
doubtless well remembered by the older itinerant preachers, who
labored in that section of the country, as for instance the Rev.
Richard Barney and Bishop Wayman. He was a man of recognized worth,
for many years chief steward of the church, of some literary culture,
quite a wag, and very fond of practical jokes. He was a thrifty farmer
for his times, and quite an extensive dealer in cordwood and hoppoles.

PHOEBE GOULD, his wife, was possessed of considerable intelligence
and evinced a fondness for learning. Deeply pious, her mind was well
stored with Bible truths and with choice hymns. She manifested a
fondness for children, and could repeat from memory to their delight
many long stories in verse; and she never failed to leave upon them an
impression for good. She seemed to live in a very holy frame, and did
not fail to bless all who came near her.

Benjamin Gould, the father of Rebecca Steward, passed away on the 18th
of May 1851, and twenty-six years after on the same day of the month
and at the same hour in the day, viz., May 18th 1877, Phoebe Gould,
the mother, followed him to that better land. The heads of the family
are gone over, and one by one the children who have walked in the
footsteps of their parents are being gathered home after them. The
latest grave is that which contains the precious dust of REBECCA
STEWARD, fifth daughter of Benjamin and Phoebe Gould.



Rebecca Gould, afterwards Rebecca Steward, was born in Gouldtown on
the 2d of May, 1820. But Gouldtown a half century ago was not what it
is now. It was then almost unbroken forest. The early childhood of
this family was passed in a rude little log house, in which one room
answered for kitchen, dining-room, parlor and bed-room for eleven

A brave and stalwart father, a slight and sickly mother, seven girls,
and two boys, made up that household. A little uncomfortable school
house, answering on the Sabbath for church, was the only public
building known. In such circumstances, grew up this family; the
children early learning to work in the fields and in the woods, girls
and boys, very much alike, getting now and then a few months in
school, and working occasionally in other families. Thus they learned
quite early the stern realities of life.

This home, though rude, was the abode of good cheer, in which the
wayworn traveler and especially the minister of the gospel, always
found a welcome.

Let me picture it as it lives in my earliest recollections. The
log-house had then given way to one of frame scarcely larger, and
this was old. The heavy oaken door painted red swung lazily on its
hinges, and the leather latch string answered for a knob. In one
corner of the room stood an ancient corner cupboard, with its glass
doors and abundant carvings; in another the old clock, with its two
brothers clasped in affectionate embrace on its front; the fire place
and the innovation of a ten plate stove, occupied one side of the
room; while opposite, stood the old table, with its legs terminating
in dragon's feet, from which I have crept away in terror many times,
imagining that the cloth concealed some hideous beast. A long settee
and a few rush bottom chairs completed the furniture.

My earliest recollections carry me to this house; to the well that
stood before it; to the old pear tree and apple tree near by. But
clearest in my memory are the white bread, the rich butter and sweet
milk, that "Grandmother" dealt out to her hungry juvenile visitors
with such liberal hand. Oh, how peaceful and sweet appear the
beginnings of life when we look back upon them from the smoking
perilous battle field of manhoods labors.

At nineteen years of age, Rebecca Gould was sought and won in marriage
by James Steward. He was then a young man of promise, a steady and
thrifty mechanic, having worked nine years in the Cumberland Nail and
Iron works. He had been reared practically an orphan, his mother
having gone to San Domingo, doubtless with an intention of one day
returning. She never returned; and thus his last earthly relative, so
far as he knew, departed. Alone he battled his way up. Providence,
however, ultimately gave him a home in the family of Elijah Gould,
father of Rev. T. Gould, where he remained until twenty-one. At
twenty-four years of age he took to his side Rebecca Gould and the
twain became one.

Of James Steward and Rebecca, were born six children, viz: Margarette,
William, Mary, Theophilus Gould, Alice, and Stephen Smith.

Permit me henceforth to speak of this couple as my father and mother,
and I beg the reader to pardon me, if I should manifest a degree of
love and respect, which may seem to him somewhat partial.

I write, I trust, as a man who feels that there can be no nobler
sentiment than real filial love.

Neither my father or mother were Christians at the time of marriage.
They commenced life in the town; but as children were born to them,
although they had purchased a home in the village, they sold it and
went to the country.

The principal object had in view in this matter, was to keep their
children in a pure and health giving moral, as well as physical,
atmosphere. I am not certain which took the lead in this change,
father or mother; but it is presumable that as father had been reared
in the town and mother in the country, it was done directly or
indirectly through her influence.

Fortunately father and mother agreed on all principal matters relating
to the government of their children. They both resolved to do the best
possible, to give them a practical education, an education that would
be of use; but mother being the better informed assumed the larger
share in the direction of this education. She, to some extent,
examined and encouraged the children even when in school, and kept the
love of learning burning briskly all the time.

About seven years after marriage she became an active Christian,
joining the African M. E. Church in Gouldtown, October 12, 1846, under
Rev. now Bishop A. W. Wayman; and not long after my father followed
her in a profession of faith.

My whole recollection of my mother is of a Christian. In my early
childhood, I remember her as being much afflicted. During one of these
long periods of sickness, I remember her requesting my father to sing
the hymn:

    "Shrinking from the cold hand of death
      I soon shall gather up my feet,
    Shall soon resign this fleeting breath
      And die,--my father's God to meet."

I suppose she felt that her end was approaching. She had taken the
book and found the hymn and requested my father to sing it. As soon as
he saw the character of the hymn he bowed himself upon the bedside
and wept. Though but a child scarcely above infancy, yet the scene is
firmly photographed on my memory.

I also remember during one of these long periods of sickness, of
receiving an impression that I had seen her walking out in the garden.
I was so sure that she had been out, that the next day I asked her if
she was going out again. She surprisingly asked "Going out again? why
when have I been out?" "Why," said I "you were out in the garden
yesterday." "No, I was not," she replied. I insisted that she had been
out; but she thought I had dreamed it; and that _disgusted me_, when I
was so sure I had _seen her and talked with her in the garden_. I
carry to this day a distinct recollection of her appearance in the
garden on that day.

The facts were, as I afterward learned, that she was sitting by the
south window in her room overlooking the garden, watching me while I
was playing in the garden. I have no explanation to offer.

The work of my mother may be divided in at least three parts, viz: In
her family, in the neighborhood, and in herself, in enduring
afflictions and triumphing over them.

As a wife and a mother, she fulfilled her whole duty in the household.
She was intelligent, hospitable, and kind; securing for her children
the best company within their reach. By extensive reading and careful
study, she prepared herself to entertain the young and the old, the
rude, and the refined; and by her executive ability she could secure
the comfort and pleasure of almost any number of guests. Towards the
community she stood as an unofficious and unostentatious missionary
and educator. In herself she suffered the will of God, and gave such
an example of patience as is rarely met with.

I shall try to present a brief sketch of her work in all these spheres
and refer the reader for illustrations, to her own writings and
letters, and to the contributions of those whose names honor this



On the 21st of March, 1869, my mother was taken with a serious
illness, which confined her to her bed for two years, and to her house
for five years. During the period of her convalescence, in which for
most of the time she was unable to walk a step, she kept her pen
employed; and always upon Christian themes. Having read the Bible with
great patience and care, she could glean from its inspired pages,
thoughts not unworthy a place in our best religious journals.

It was while she was thus afflicted, that the movement for the special
promotion of holiness assumed noticeable proportions. With this
movement she had no sympathy, and expressed unhesitatingly her
disapproval of any religious or political reform, lead in large
measure by women. She wrote a series of articles on "Sanctification,"
having direct bearing upon this movement. Her words have lost none of
their weight with the lapse of time, and experience of the Church.

She commenced her articles with expressing surprise and pain, that
Christians should talk about the _time when_ they were sanctified; and
should set apart times and hold special meetings for sanctification.
"Now," she says, "this argues to me that they do _not know Christ_; or
they doubt God's power to forgive sins fully, freely and clearly; or
they do not believe Christ when he says believe and be saved. 'He that
believeth on me though _he were dead_ yet shall he live' John. 11. 25.
Now, if Christ does not mean to save to the _uttermost_ why does he
invite all the ends of the earth to come and be saved? He does not say
repent and believe _now_, and after awhile I will come to wash,
cleanse, purify, sanctify you or set you apart; but he says repent and
believe _now_ and ye shall be saved _now_."

She maintained with the approval of her own conscience, the testimony
of her own experience, and abundant scripture reference, that we could
not be half in Christ and half-out, half-saved and half-lost, that
there was no concord between Christ and Belial, no partnership between
God and the devil.

Her words are "We cannot be half saved and half lost, there can be no
half-way measures with Christ, _we must come unto Him and be saved or
stay away and be lost_."

And then she says "Every part must be saved, not a hair of your head
shall perish." As God sanctified the entire Sabbath from its very dawn
to its close, so she argued does God sanctify the whole Christian
life. Her faith was to the effect that all Christians were sanctified
from conversion, and she called on all Christians to so regard
themselves and to so repose upon all the promises of God.

During this period of affliction she wrote the interesting paper found
further on in this book, entitled, "TWO YEARS ON THE BRINK OF JORDAN."
It was written with a view of reflecting her own experience. The cases
alluded to in it of persons crossing the river in Charon's boat, are
not ficticious, but solemn records of the death of some of her
acquaintances. She preferred to leave them un-named, and I would not
now trespass upon her preference; but I repeat, the reader may feel
assured, that in every departure of the boat he is looking upon a real
death-bed scene, and will understand that morning, noon, and evening,
as there used, refer to youth, middle age, and old age.

But it was in the home circle that Mother was best known and most
honored. To exhibit something of her knowledge of life, I give a few
of her letters addressed to her children. They are records of
suffering, of patience, of faith, and of love.

     _January 9, 1875._

     DEAR ALICE.--I have been kept at home again to-day by a fit of
     cholic, which I am having every few days now, or whenever I eat
     anything. It has not lasted as long to-day as usual, and was
     not quite as bad. Last Sunday I went to Quarterly meeting in
     the morning, thinking it would be sacrament service, but it was
     put off till afternoon, so I have not had the sacrament since
     August * * * You must not think because I said I had the cholic
     that I am sick. I am going about, seeing to my work. We killed
     hogs Monday, and I fixed all the dinner and I go visiting once
     in awhile, and to day, although confined at home, I have been
     picking some of the fruit off life's fair tree. I can't tell
     you how much, but I have got pretty well filled; but I have not
     got as much charity as I want. * * * * * * * * Your pigeon is
     living and running with the chickens.


The following letter was addressed to her daughter Alice and her
husband Rev. C. C. Filts, when he was very sick. It explains itself,
and although it contains matters of a private nature, yet I give it
entire to show the beauty and strength of her mind and heart.

     _June 26, 1875._

     MY DEAR CHILDREN.--I am deeply grieved that the dark hand of
     affliction should fall on you so soon, and I can hardly realize
     how hard it has been through all these weary weeks of
     suffering; but, dear Alice, I hope you have done well your
     duty, and Cethe I trust has born up with Christian patience.

     I would gladly have been with you if it had been possible. I am
     thankful to hear that Cethe is better and hope he will take
     good care of himself and get quite well. We did not feel so
     much disappointed at your not coming; we hardly looked for you,
     although your father would not give it up until the last train
     had come in. But do not worry to come home; tell Cethe I think
     he has the _home sickness_ to contend with now, but he must be
     patient as he promised.

     My visit to New York was not much; I was so tired when I got
     there, I could not do anything. Sunday I went to church and
     Sunday School. Monday it rained, so I did not go out, and
     Tuesday I came home; so you see I don't know much about
     anything, only the beautiful ride up the bay from Long Branch,
     which was amid the finest scenery I ever saw. Theoph's people
     seem to think a great deal of him; but he is not very well.
     Lizzie got down home all right and her brother is coming back
     with her.

     We are all well, but the weather is so hot we can hardly live;
     the factory stopped yesterday for the heat. We are going to
     harvest next week; we have the nicest corn.

     We are having some great times about Bro. Faucett's money; we
     have to pay up every week, but _I_ think he is nice, and he
     gives us good preaching.

     I know you will not mind bad writing this hot weather.


In giving these two letters, I have desired to show my mother's
appreciation of the sacraments of the church, and of the gospel, and
her ability to give good counsel and comfort to her distressed
children. _She had not had the sacrament since August!_ She felt the
loss, and had through much affliction gone to church that she might
once more meet the assembly of the saints, at the table of the Lord,
and then had been disappointed! She put her own feelings on paper,
when, as against the clamor and complaints against the minister, she
wrote "_he gives us good preaching_." Little did she then know that
that minister, who gave the people, as she said, "good preaching,"
should one day be called upon to pronounce the last sad tribute to her
worth over her open coffin. I am glad that I can put on record the
testimony of Rebecca Steward, a woman learned in the Bible, and
experienced in the things of God, in favor of the preaching of any
minister. She calmly wrote that Brother Faucett gave the people good

How she could comfort the distressed, the letters themselves say. A
few more paragraphs will show how she lived in the atmosphere of
Heaven, and how she looked upon Heaven as her near home.

The reader will pardon this anticipation and transposition of years.



In the spring of 1874 my mother had so far recovered, as to be able to
walk about a little; and, in company with her oldest sister, Tamson
Cuff, since gone to rest, she made a visit of a few weeks to Newbern,
North Carolina. Soon after her arrival she wrote the following letter:

     _Newbern, N. C., April 17th, 1874._

     Dear husband, and all the loved ones at home.

     WILL wrote for me last night, so you will know that we got here
     all safe; but Tamson is not feeling very well this morning. I
     am quite as well as usual. I found Will and his folks as well
     and happy as can be; Will is fatter than I ever saw him. I did
     not get to see Theoph, I can't tell why; if you hear from him
     let me know; and if you do not, after a week or two, write to
     Mr. Hamilton, and see where he is. It was cold and dreary
     enough when we came from home, but we have come right into
     midsummer here; the birds are singing, and flowers blooming,
     and the swamps and woods along the road are as green as in the
     first of June. In the yards here, there are fig trees, and
     peach and plum trees, as green with leaves as in July with us.
     They are having peas, and onions, and lettuce, to eat. I had a
     nice bunch of flowers given to me last night, and I want to
     send you some before they wilt. * * * * We had a nice ride
     around the city (in Washington,) saw the Capitol, Patent
     Office, and Post Office, and I cannot tell you what else, until
     I get home. We are invited to stop a week in Washington on our
     return; but I reckon I shall want to come right home when I

     As ever, wife and mother,

     R. S.

She came home from this visit much improved, and enjoyed quite good
health until the fall of '75. During the winter of '74 she witnessed
the marriage of her two remaining children, and looked out upon life a
second time almost alone. The couple that had married in the beginning
of December '38, saw the last of their children married, at the close
of December '74. Thirty-six years had been employed in rearing and
training a family ere the last one is given to manhood, and the father
and mother turn a moment to repose. Their work is done; time shall say
if it has been well done. Time did I say? Nay, Eternity! Their work
done, they go back in that quiet home alone, but cannot recall the
hopes and joys of youth. When married thirty-six years ago, they were
without the Pearl of Great Price; now they sit in that homestead,
after exercising nearly forty years of command in the sublime domain
of domestic government, and look up to their father's God. Now that
father and mother bow, and unitedly pray, "God bless our offspring in
different parts of the world; teach them, educate them, give them
knowledge, wisdom and understanding; make them useful in doing much
good, and instruments in Thy hand in winning many souls to Thy
Kingdom." This is no fancy sketch, dear reader, but an actual
quotation from the prayer that went up from that altar.

When somewhat discouraged with untoward circumstances, during this
period of her life, I received two letters from her which I have ever
prized. In one she said: "I never close my eyes at night, without
looking over you all, and committing you all to God's care; and I _do_
pray God to keep you all; so that when we are all done with the cares
of this life, we shall be a family united around the throne--children,
grandchildren, and all; and we will make the heavens ring with one
eternal song of praise."

"Follow after the meek and lowly Jesus; and if you can't make anything
of the old people, try the children; sow the seeds of Divine Truth
among _them_ as much as you can; leave no measure untried, no place
neglected, as far as in you lies. Be faithful; be earnest; for
remember He that goeth forth with tares bearing precious seed shall
return again bringing his sheaves with him. And Oh! think of the
glory, the rejoicing--when all the ransomed of the Lord shall come
flocking to him--to meet those you have been instrumental in bringing
to Christ."

In the other she said: "Continue to look up, for Christ is the end of
your hopes and He will never forsake you. He has work enough for you
to do. Seek to find out His will and obediently follow it. Work in His
vineyard wherever you find a place; and, if you can find nothing else,
then quietly, like your mother, patiently wait and speak a word for
Him whenever you can. Scatter seed wherever you go, and may the Lord
bless you, and keep you and all yours, is the best wish of the heart
of your mother."

The summer of '75 was to the inhabitants of South Jersey quite
prosperous, so far as the productions of the field were concerned, and
this made abundant work for mother now left alone. It being difficult
to obtain help, the chief burden of managing the affairs of the
farm-house fell upon her, and they were not light. She says, July 6,
1875, in a letter addressed to Mrs. Felts: "We are all pretty well and
almost done harvesting; the weather is very warm and I have had it
pretty hard, but it is over now, and I have stood it right well."

On the 5th of the same month she wrote a long letter to Mrs. Felts
inviting her home. During the month of August, 1875 she presided over
a family reunion, at which were gathered all the members of the
household consisting of over forty persons. A long table was spread
under the trees just as the sun was sinking in the west, and after a
short prayer by Rev. R. Faucett this numerous family gathered around
it in the utmost sociality. It was their last.

The remaining days of summer and early autumn passed away without any
material change in her health; but as the cool weather approached, and
the profuse vegetable matter began to die away, she was taken with a
slight billious intermittent fever. Exposing herself too early on her
recovery from this, she was thrown into typhoid fever and was by it
completely prostrated. During the winter as she was very low, I was
informed of her state, and came to see her, bringing her some
nourishment, which I induced her to take, and there was soon a gradual
change for the better. During her former illness her hair had all
turned grey, and fallen out; during the period of health from the
spring of '74 to the autumn of '75 it had grown in again black, and
now this terrible typhoid fever leaves her reduced to little more than
a skeleton, and her hair all grey and falling out again.

On the 13th of February 1876, having recovered sufficiently, she wrote
to her daughter as follows, writing with her own hand: "Dear Alice.
The cloud indeed passed away, and I am much better; I am sorry I
troubled you, and made you sad (alluding to a previous letter in
which she expressed no hope of recovery), but I thought it best then.
I guess I will get well now, if nothing else happens. Father will not
let me go out of the room yet; he is very well; he went to a donation
party to Mr. Faucett's last night. You need not be uneasy about me, I
am well cared for and do not wish you to come to me. I think it would
be out of your duty and you know I always say 'duty before pleasure;'
and besides, 'Aunt Lydia' has been with me and will come again if I
need her. * * * * The people like Mr. Faucett better than they did. I
cannot advise you about coming East. * * * You must both make it a
subject of prayer, but don't come for my sake; _I am not worth a
sacrifice_; and besides I have sacrificed you all to the Lord. (See
February 6th 1876.) I have laid all of you, with all that I have, on
the altar; all my dearest affections, and you among the dearest; so
you see I can't take you back." And in this letter she adds "here is
the last bit of my hair."

The same date she wrote to her son-in-law, Rev. C. C. Felts as

     Dear Cethe:--I like to forgot, I had something to say to _you_.
     I must answer your _grumbling_ as best I can, for I don't like
     _grumblers_ any way. (Mr. Felts had written, that his room was
     so small that he could not walk across without moving things
     out of the way to make a passage, etc., and otherwise alluding
     to his poverty. Of course the correspondence was rather
     jocosely conducted.) She continued:

     1st. You forget how much larger your room is than the cross
     was; and how many things the Saviour had to move out of the
     way; you forget also how much larger those mansions in glory
     will appear.

     2d. You forget, too, that your bread shall be given and water
     sure; and having food and raiment, therewith to be content.

     3d. You forget, too, that he that goeth forth weeping, bearing
     precious seed, shall doubtless return again, bringing his
     sheaves with him. Sow thy seed in the morning, in the evening
     withhold not thy hand, for thou knowest not which shall
     prosper, this or that. The other side looks so bright, I have
     no comments.


The summer of '76 passed slowly away, she regaining health slowly. Her
hair, which all came out with the typhoid fever, grew in rapidly, and
again black. In August of that year she wrote as follows: "We are all
well as usual. Theoph is here, and Lizzie is coming to day, and Bishop
Payne Saturday. We had the finest pic-nic yesterday we have had for a
long time. * * * I shall be to see you week after next, if I don't go
home with Theoph; and if I do, I will be there the week after. I am
going to Campmeeting now."

She went home with "Theoph," passing a week in Brooklyn and going from
there to Philadelphia. Her deep interest in the welfare of her
children, and her complete resignation to the will of God are so
apparent in these letters, as scarcely to need a hint. She has laid
all on the altar and dare not take it off. She counts not herself
"_worth a sacrifice_." What further self-denial can be asked? What
further consecration possible?

From her visit to Brooklyn she went to Philadelphia, stopping a week
at the latter place with her daughter, Mrs. Felts, and remarked while
there, that she was taking a rest after her severe summer's labor, and
was also visiting her children for the last time, unless called to
them by sickness. While in Philadelphia she visited the great
Centennial Exposition, and called on many of her friends in the city.
On the Sabbath, it was her intention to visit "Old Bethel" _once
more_, but the day being stormy, she was disappointed. Her two weeks
vacation, she said, saved her from an attack of sickness, and she
passed the following winter in quite good health. She wrote me towards
spring, saying she was rapidly gaining in flesh and had not been sick
a day since her visit.

During the month of January her oldest sister was taken very sick,
requiring much of her attention; simultaneously word came that her
daughter, Mrs. Felts, was also seriously ill. She divided her time
between these two afflicted ones, again visiting the city. As she left
home to go to the city, the weather was so bad, she had doubts about
reaching it; but she said, "My duty is to start." Staying two weeks
with her daughter, she availed herself of only one pleasure, and that
was to hear Dr. Lord's classic lecture on Gothic Architecture. This
was to her a great treat; and her perception was at that time so
clear, and her memory so retentive, that after coming home she
repeated almost the entire substance of the lecture. During the month
of March my brother Stephen and his wife moved into the homestead, to
take charge of the farm. My mother felt sad as she brought her
domestic arrangements within closer quarters, and remarked that it
seemed to her "like having gone to the top of the hill and now going
down again." Although she was delighted with her daughter-in-law and
heartily acquiesced in the arrangement, in fact it was in accord with
her own wish, yet she expressed a feeling of sadness as she
relinquished her hold upon active and responsible life. What with the
labor of caring for the sick daughter, her sick mother, and her sick
sister, during the winter, when spring came she was very much worn
down. The last letter she wrote is dated May 7th, 1877, and is
addressed to her oldest son. It reads:

     Dear Will:--Yours kindly received. We were glad to be
     remembered, and glad to know you had got so well; we are all as
     usual except colds. I have not seen your family since you were
     here. Steve is almost done planting corn; but the weather is so
     cold, he gets along slow with his work. "Aunt Tamson" is very
     low;--not expected to live from day to day. Tell Alice, we
     can't--any one of us--come to the opening of the Exhibition;
     but she can come home _any day she gets ready_.

     We are getting along very peacably and nice with our two
     families together. Our new preacher was with us yesterday and
     kindly received. You will wonder why I have not written better;
     but I am in a hurry for "Grandmother" and "Aunt Prude" are both
     sick, and I am going there as soon as I can; "Aunt Tamson's"
     family are all with her; you see we have trouble all around us;
     it was the news of "Ike's" death that threw her back. Father is
     working right on for four weeks, which is wonderful.

     With much love, from your


So far as I know this is the last letter she ever wrote. On the 11th
of May, Mrs. Felts went home and took charge of her work, while she
gave her time fully to the care of the sick. Every day and every night
she would visit one or the other, often going from one directly to
the other, taking but very little rest. One day she remarked to Mrs.
Felts: "Alice, this is the only time since your marriage that I have
ever wanted you back; when I gave you up, I did so freely and have
never regretted it, and this is the first time I have ever really
needed you since, and now the Lord has arranged it for you to be

On the 16th of May, "Aunt Tamson" (Mrs. Tamson Cuff, her oldest
sister) passed away from earth. At the time of her death mother was
absent; coming to look upon her lifeless form, she talked pleasantly
with those around of the reality and glory of heaven, and came home

    "I know not the hour when my Lord shall come,
      To take me away to His own dear home,
    But I know that His presence will lighten my gloom;
      And that will be glory for me."

Taking off her bonnet, she said: "Alice, attend to the work, I must
indulge myself a little now"; and lying down on the sofa, she wept
freely for some time. She lay there till evening and then rousing
herself, passed the evening in conversation with the daughters of the
deceased. On the next day, May 17th, she worked very hard intending to
spend all the next day with her mother. About 5 o'clock that afternoon
word was brought that _her mother was dead_. Throwing up both hands,
she uttered a wail of horror, such as none had ever heard from her
before, saying quickly: "Oh! My mother gone; and I so selfish as to
be about my work and not with her!" We replied: "But mother you were
preparing to spend to-morrow with her." She added immediately: "I
could have gone to day. It was my selfishness. Mother said she would
die on the 18th and I intended to be with her on that day; but I ought
not to have left her, I ought not to have left her," she repeated.

As quickly as possible she was at her mother's bedside and to her
inexpressible joy found her _still alive_. She had sunk so low that
life was thought extinct, but the Lord had revived her again and she
still lived, and recognized her daughter. She lived through the night
and waited until the sun had sent his first beams to bless the earth
on the 18th, when her happy spirit fled to its eternal home. She had
known it would appear for some days, the day and very hour when she
should go away. It was the same day of the month and the same hour at
which her husband died. Side by side their ashes sleep in the old
family graveyard at Gouldtown, awaiting the clarion call of the
resurrection trump.

My mother turned not away from the corpse of her mother until she had
seen it all prepared for the grave. It was a work, she said, she could
leave no stranger to do, and made the same request for herself. "Never
allow my body to pass into the hands of strangers," was her request.

On Saturday, the 19th of May, 1877, her sister, Mrs. Cuff, was buried,
and Monday following, (May 21st,) her mother's corpse was laid in the
grave. After the funeral of the mother, at her suggestion, all the
remaining members of the family went back to the old homestead and ate
dinner together, she saying it would perhaps be their last time. From
these sad days she went direct into hard work, and when gently
remonstrated with and fears were expressed that she would get sick,
she replied: "Oh! I will get over it, I guess; and if I do not, it is
in the end life everlasting."

On the 28th of the month she was taken seriously ill and medical aid
was summoned. From the first she expressed but little hope, saying: "I
never was sick this way before." She talked freely with her children
and would not be satisfied until she had made them say that they had
forgiven her for persisting to work against their wish.

During the last Sabbath she spent on earth, she fell into a gentle
doze when suddenly waking, she said: "What do you think I saw?" and
then musingly she added: "It might have been a dream; I think it was,
but I saw the Lord holding Theoph and Cethe, in his arms, and I know
He is going to keep them safe."

That night being taken worse, the family watched with her and she
remarked: "Ah, children, I shall not be here in the morning." Morning
came, however, and she was still spared. In conversation that day she
said: "I thought I was dying, but I felt comfortable in mind and had
no fear." As her daughter, Mrs. Felts, was obliged to leave, she urged
her to watch with great care over her little girl, saying: "As you
mould her so will she grow. I never could think my children were only
for my pleasure, I did not dare make playthings of them, I thought the
training of my children was part of the work God gave me to do."

"I may get well," said she, "but anyhow my life is hid with Christ in
God and to be where there is no more pain, where all tears are wiped
away,--Ah, you need not wonder that I do not care to stay here. I have
been sick so much--and in that land no one says 'I am sick,' I have
thought with 'Aunt Tamson' and 'Grandmother' that it was hard to open
the gates, but then there's glory on the other side."

The next day (Monday) she appeared better, but during the night was
again worse. On Thursday, Father becoming alarmed, despatched for the
absent ones; she knew this and objected, saying it would produce
needless alarm. That night she had sinking spells. Recovering from one
of them, she exclaimed: "Oh, can't you catch the glory of heaven all
around me!" Father burst into tears and she immediately added: "Oh, I
did not mean to distress you!" Although we knew she was dying, we said
but little. Who could talk? Her last audible words were: "Though I
walk through the valley and shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for
Thou art with me," and taking the hand of her sister, added: "I am
deep down in the valley now"--"deep down in the valley, but glory to
God," she could say "Thou art with me!"

Just three weeks after her mother's death, viz: Friday, June 8th,
1877, she passed away and there are now three fresh graves in that old
burial ground.


On Monday, June 11th, 1877, a large concourse of people met in Trinity
A. M. E. Church, Gouldtown, to pay their last acknowledgements to this
modest and excellent woman. The corpse was neatly dressed and in the
coffin lay quite a profusion of freshly blown roses. The services at
the church were conducted by Rev. Redman Faucett and Dr. B. T. Tanner;
those at the grave by Revs. E. J. Hammet, G. W. Boyer and Dr. H. M.
Turner. All spoke eloquently of the virtues of the deceased. After the
coffin was lowered down in the grave and solemnly committed to dust, a
large basket of white roses were distributed among the weeping
relatives and friends, and each threw a handful of sweet flowers on
the dust of her whom all had learned to love.

And thus ends the earthly life of a noble woman. Ends did I say? May I
not rather say, begins! That life so illustrative of golden virtues
and heroic principles, it is to be hoped will go down through the
present and succeeding generations, lived over by those whom she
loved, and she being dead, may yet speak words of comfort and love to
many struggling ones among God's children.



Shall we not now pause a moment by the side of this fresh grave, and
look back over the pathway trod by the modest woman, whose form lies
sleeping here, embalmed in flowers, and call to mind anew the virtues
she possessed.

We have seen her in the midst of a large family, performing the duties
of wife and mother. Shall we not for a moment regard her in that
larger sphere of Christian labor, which she filled in the church and
in her community.

In 1846 she became an earnest and zealous follower of the Lord, and
united with the African Methodist Episcopal Church in Gouldtown, of
which the Rev. (now Bishop) A. W. Wayman was then pastor. She was
converted during a period of affliction, and I think the lines written
in that year and bearing the inscription "written after a time of
affliction," page 129, are intended to commemorate that event. The
second and third verses seem to describe the state of a soul passing
from death to life, through faith in the gospel. She joined the church
in October of that year, and seems to have commenced her labors at
once. In the Sunday-school she became a teacher and was successful in
that capacity in bringing many souls to Christ. It was her object to
secure the conversion of every scholar committed to her care, and she
seldom failed. She also became teacher of an adult Bible class, which
met weekly at her house or the house of one of the neighbors; she
managed for some time a weekly prayer meeting, composed of the female
members of the church, and subsequently became an active member of the
church aid society. Yet, with all this activity, there was no
ostentation, no public show, no noisy parade, no extravagant shouting.
She was an uncompromising opponent to woman's preaching, and to all of
those mutual aid societies bearing high sounding titles. I think
nothing could have induced her to countenance in any way the numerous
"orders" which prevail so largely among our people, and she wore no
badge, or jewelry. No rings were on her fingers or in her ears, and
yet she affected no plainness of dress. She repudiated extravagance of
all sorts, and sought to avoid everything which might render her
noticeable. After five years of Christian life and labor she came
forward as a candidate for baptism; for on this subject she
entertained peculiar scruples. She was baptised in 1851, and surely
none could have been more worthy. This rite was performed by Rev.
Shepherd Holcombe in the church of which she had been a member five

She seems to have consecrated herself most fully to the Lord, and
although she repudiated the theory of the "second blessing," yet she
doubtless enjoyed all that the strongest advocates of that theory
claim. She says in a letter dated February 13th, 1876, (see page 33),
that she had laid all upon the altar, even her children, and she did
not dare take them off! She counted herself as nothing, not even
"worth a sacrifice," and was certainly all the Lord's. What does she
mean by this? Seven days before in a scrap book containing numerous
clippings she had written the following: "On this 6th day of February,
1876, I consecrate myself and all I have anew to the Lord. Many years
I have been His; but I renew my covenant. All I have,--all my
affections, all my wealth (what I have), all my labors, as far as I
can understand, are His, to be used for His glory."

Mark, she says: "I consecrate myself, _anew_." She had been the Lord's
before, for many years, and she now makes no new covenant, but she
_renews_ the old covenant. This was in strict accord with all her
previous life, and although she advanced far towards the heights of
holiness, she always turned away from the theory of special
sanctification, regarding it as an error in doctrine and an unreality
in experience; and yet none could have gone farther in consecration
than herself. Every word of this declaration is solemn and sincere,
and this consecration is without reserve. Here then is what she means
by having laid her children on the altar and not daring to take them

During her remaining days my oldest sister writes: "She seemed more
devoted, more perfected to our Heavenly Father's will than ever."
Notwithstanding her feebleness she regularly attended the church on
Sabbath mornings, and met the Sunday-school teachers once a week,
going over the lessons and giving much valuable instruction. After the
dismission of the morning service on Sabbath, she regularly met her
class, and my sister, whose seat was near hers, writes: "Every Sunday
she would say, 'I am trying to _live_ a Christian; I wish to die a
Christian and see what the end of a Christian life will be.' On the
last Sunday she met the class, which was just one week and four days
before she died--she seemed if possible, more devoted than usual and
her words impressed me much. I did not think then that I should never
hear her speak in class again."

My mother had read the Scriptures with great care and was not fully
persuaded that infant baptism was therein taught, and although a
Methodist, she hesitated to give her children to God and the church in
this ordinance. Of her six children not one was baptised in infancy,
nor did she teach them to "say prayers." It required great faith to
depart from so general a custom, but being taught of God, she dared to
do it. The reader will observe in my brother's poem, which actually
reproduces the scenes of our childhood, that there is no picture of a
child with clasped hands kneeling down and lisping his evening prayer
by his mother's knee. No such picture was common there. Early in the
days of her life as a mother she abandoned the custom. Prayerless the
six children went to bed, and prayerless they went to their daily
tasks, and this not through negligence but through principle. She
thought "saying prayers" a grave species of trifling; and, as father
worked sometimes nights and sometimes days, regularity in family
prayer, if desired, could not be had. I am not certain that _it was
desired_. Religion, not even in its forms, was forced upon the
children but on the contrary it was rendered so attractive, that the
children of that household would crowd around that mother in the
evening and tease her to tell them a story. The story would always be
told just before bed-time and would be likely to end with a solemn
appeal to our consciences, the reading of a chapter from the old
family Bible, a prayer and then all the children were hurried to bed.
This was not a nightly occurrence, but seemed wholly dependent upon
our asking. The stories were always from the Bible and to our little
minds were wonderfully well told; often filling us with such hatred
toward bad men, that on seeing their pictures we would wish to
destroy them, and making us cry over those that had suffered.

Such was the character of the religious training she gave her
household. I wish it were possible to obtain one of those stories just
as she told it. The nearest approach to anyone of them is the little
story about "SELF" told with her pen many years later, when writing
was to her a great difficulty, to two of her grandchildren. While it
may be interesting, I am sure it bears but a faint comparison to those
that her own children heard in their childhood from her own lips.

I had thought to pass over this part of my mother's work for fear it
might not be understood; or that others attempting to imitate her
herein might suffer great loss in their families. Where the religious
care of the children is left to the mother, and she is not specially
gifted, it is perhaps better to teach by rote and by form; but where
conditions are otherwise, it is better to teach the children directly
the doctrines of religion and let them make their own forms.

Religion and reverence for God and sacred things, then becomes a part
of their nature and is more likely to be sincere.

Looking upon this life, shall we ask what there is in it which has won
so much Christian admiration and entitles it to so much praise. I
answer, it is found in her sincerity, purity and unconquerable faith.
She believed God and believed every word of God. It is found in her
abundant Scriptural knowledge qualifying her to believe intelligently;
in her knowledge of persons acquired by habits of close observation;
her knowledge of history and the natural sciences, and her general
acquaintance with literature. These accomplishments united to the most
modest demeanor, rendered her a woman of note and a Christian for whom
any community, church or age might have been grateful. It is not mine
to estimate her worth or paint her character. The homage which I bear
her makes all praise seem tame. No words of mine can portray the
excellencies which I attribute her. I leave therefore, the work of
determining her great moral and Christian worth to more competent and
less partial judges. To be permitted to wreathe any name with such
garlands as are brought by the learned, the eloquent and the honored
whose names adorn this book, is sufficient privilege to me. Her
earthly fame I entrust to their keeping and through them to posterity.
She enjoyed the testimony while on earth that her works pleased God
and to Him who was her solace and stay in life, and her rod and staff
in death; who gave her those shining qualities of head and heart, and
preserved her to a life of usefullness, I commend not in hopeless
sorrow but in hope of a glorious reunion her immortal and unburdened

My task is done. I lay the tribute humble as it is, and as I feel it
is, upon the fresh grave of my departed mother. May her example, her
words, her suffering, her triumph, serve as happy angels, calling us
to a higher and holier life, and to that reward which awaits on the
other side the gates. Hear her words when entering death's vale: "The
gates are hard to open, but there's _glory on the other side_!" Glory
on the other side! And hard as it may have seemed to open the gates
when at some distance, I doubt not as she drew near them that they
opened of their own accord!



MRS. REBECCA STEWARD, wife of James Steward, was the daughter of
Benjamin and Phoebe Gould, of Bridgeton, Cumberland County, N. J. She
was born May 2d, 1820. Her father, Benjamin Gould, was the son of
Abijah Gould, whose father's name was Benjamin, who was either the son
or grandson of Elizabeth, a granddaughter of Sir John Fenwick, one of
the proprietors of New Jersey in its early colonial times.

Rebecca, the subject of this sketch, was married to James Steward in
1838, by the Rev. Vansant, of the M. E. Church.

The fruit of this marriage were six children; a boy and a girl
alternately, all of whom are now living.

The early educational advantages of Mrs. Steward were those afforded
by the township school. Here she became a good English scholar, and
supplemented the instruction, thus received, by extensive reading; so
that she became proficient, both as a writer and a conversationalist.

She was converted and joined the A. M. E. Church, at Gouldtown, in

In 1869 commenced her physical suffering, which, at times was so
acute, as to carry her to the very portal of the grave. What she said
upon religious subjects was of the most earnest character. When her
children were even very young, it was her usual custom to read to them
from the Bible such portions as would impress upon their minds the
divine lessons of this Holy Book; and instil into their plastic
hearts, "line upon line, and precept upon precept;" and, after thus
reading and explaining, she would kneel with them and plead with God
to guide them by His heavenly Light!

One evening, in the midst of these devout exercises, and while asking
God for His guidance, her husband entered the room, and then and
there, for the first time, bowed in prayer with his family.

But a short time after this occurrence, her husband and Mr. Abel Lee,
the father of President Lee, of Wilberforce University, were both
converted and united with the Church.

Lamartine relates in his opening chapter of his "Voyage to the Holy
Land," that the desire, to make the journey, was awakened in his mind
by his mother's Bible lessons. He stated that his reward for a good
lesson, was to be permitted to see the pictures of an illustrated
Bible, and hear from his good mother's lips the history and
explanations of these pictures. Is it necessary to be said, that we
can see the effect of Rebecca Steward's Bible lessons upon the minds
of her children, in giving them an impulse to seek for things divine?

From 1869 to 1872, two of her sons were in the South, one in Georgia
and the other in Florida, viz.: William and Theophilus (Rev. T. G.
Steward). They visited the paternal roof once a year. When their visit
had terminated, and they were about to depart, she would bid them
adieu with cheerful words, and an invocation to heaven to bless them;
she would urge them back to their posts of duty, beseeching them to be
pious men, and in all things labor for the honor and glory of God, and
be not dismayed if a messenger should come to them, saying: "_Mother
is done suffering_." She would say: "The Good Man" would keep her
safely and take her home in His own good time.

The premonition of a sudden death was constantly before her; but this
was no evidence that it created fear; for she was on a Rock. A few
evenings previous to her death, she said, with a tender smile:
"Children, you will look for me in the morning, but mother will not be
here." She was fully prepared to meet Death, but he came not then. A
few days after this she was seized with such violent spasms as to
destroy consciousness; but, when the spasms had passed, and her
consciousness had returned, and observing that her husband and the
children, who were at her bedside, were sore distressed, and that her
husband had telegraphed to New York for Theophilus, and to
Philadelphia for William, the latter a clerk in the A. M. E. Book
Room, and the former had just closed his Pastorate of the Bridge St.
A. M. E. Church, Brooklyn, N. Y., she chided her husband, by saying,
that it was not worth while to worry and distress them. Then, after
telling her husband to meet her in heaven, she expired in the arms of
her oldest daughter.

Taine, whose illustrations of individual or natural characteristics
have been unequalled, has said, with much force, that behind the
fossil there was an animal, and that behind the old, faded manuscript
there was a man; and we know the man and his peculiarities from the
manuscript. For such axiomatic expressions as these, Taine has been
applauded by the most learned of every land. Yet, to a Bible reader,
axioms as forcible as Taine's, stand conspicuous throughout the sacred

A man is known by his works. "Do we gather figs from thistles?" "Can
an impure fountain send forth sweet water?" are Bible axioms.

We have been led to the above digression from the facts related to us;
because, behind these facts, we shall show there existed no ordinary
woman. Though descended from what might be claimed as the aristocracy
of one of the original thirteen States, a State as proud of its
ancestry as the most pretentious, she assumed no aristocratic
prerogatives; but, among the humblest, still showed herself to be a
Christian woman, in the full significance of these words; and, if she
claimed homage, it was conceded to her spontaneously by the right of
her mental adornments and the graces of an unsullied Christian life.
Here mankind are beginning, though late, to concede all the
distinctive traits of preeminence.

Rebecca Steward was a woman of extraordinary ability, and possessed
some of the most excellent qualities of both heart and mind. Eulogy
will not appear to be exaggeration, when pronounced in the presence of
those who knew her; and they will unanimously declare, that she feared
God and loved her race. None were her superiors, and few were her
equals. She was not influenced by the arbitrary rules conceived in
prejudice of caste or race; her sympathies were as wide as humanity,
and as uncontaminated as a child's; her sympathies were guided by her
judgements, and her judgements were made clear by the teachings of the
hand of God, and not warped by the infections of exclusiveness. Gifted
with a mind of ceaseless activity, comprehensive observation, and the
most placid reflection, she yet possessed a head whose capacious
breadth could feel the pulsations of an humble heart. In whatever
class, or position, or society she was cast, she was equally at home;
with the refined and intellectual, she ranked their peer; to the
ignorant, poor, and lowly, she was a helping hand, and a guiding voice
to a higher life. Her conversations were distinguished by freedom of
language and the appropriate words in which she clothed her thoughts.
She shunned the stilted words of the pedant as she conversed to
communicate thoughts and principles. She did not read to treasure
ideas and sentiments for her own selfish, personal or mental
amusements, but she read and thought, that she might communicate to
others that which she read; and thus, here and there, plant a seed,
whose unending product could be estimated alone before the throne of
God. She was generous with her thoughts as with her means; and they
who needed either, received freely and liberally, as she herself had
received most liberally from the bounteous Giver.

Charlotte Brunte is often cited as an example of how much can be
accomplished by the mind, even when the body is afflicted.

Rebecca Steward inherited a delicate constitution; but,
notwithstanding, the superiority of her intellect so husbanded the
physical strength, as to enable her in her mental achievements to
compensate for a weak body. Her mind seized upon thoughts with
marvelous facility; and religious thoughts were the permeating
influence that flowed continually through her life. Her influence has
been left upon all who came in contact with her; and her influences
were constantly on the side of her divine Master, from whose inspired
Book she drew the web and woof of her most remarkable and impressive
conversations; and she seemed to have relied implicitly upon the
words: "_Open thy mouth and I will fill it_." Unassuming in all she
did; free to give expression to her thoughts; steadfast in faith; with
such an abundance of those qualities that adorn humanity, that we
cannot enumerate them; she was one of those of whom the world is not
worthy; and therefore, God took her from the evil to come.

     Dear reader, in the life and character of this beloved
     Christian woman, we have a most happy illustration of Christian
     faith and practice.

     In it all the Christian graces are seen to shine most
     conspicuously. I repeat, in her life the Christian graces of
     faith, hope and charity, or the love of God and humanity, had
     a most happy illustration.

     Go thou and do likewise, and God shall reward thee as He
     rewarded her.

     May the grace of God enable thee so to do, is the prayer of thy
     friend and brother,



     AUGUST 20TH, 1877.



President of Wilberforce University.

Among the persons earliest and dearest in my recollections is she,
whose name stands at the head of this article.

In my childhood, I associated her with my highest ideas of perfection;
in my youth, I looked upon her as one especially interested in my
well-being and well-doing; in my manhood I knew her to be a devoted
Christian, who was always anxious for all men to know Christ and to
keep His commandments, and I never thought otherwise than that she was
praying for my success. This has often stimulated me to perseverence
and hope in good works, while it has kept me from many snares.

My aunt had an aptness in dealing with and managing children, which
made them feel easy in her presence; rendered her instructions
impressive, her society agreeable, her manners attractive, and her
authority respectable to them.

She possessed a form, general appearance and features, which would
have given grace and honor to any position ever filled by woman; while
she possessed a native intellect, which had reached that state of
culture in which human life appears to best advantage, and which, had
she sought it, would have admitted her to the higher circles of life.

Her ideas of life and things were clear, reasonable and definite;
while her appreciation of the worth and object of life was highly
philosophic and Christian. She always breathed the purest atmosphere
her circumstances and state admitted. It seemed to me that no one
could soar higher upon the strength of similar conditions than she. It
is one of the finest points in the philosophy of life, to know where
to place the lever in order to gain the greatest advantage of the
weight, this she seemed to me to nearly always know, and, consequently
to carry the burdens of life with comparative ease.

When I was left at ten years of age an orphan, she gave me many items
of advice and encouragement, which were as precious ointment to my
soul; when I lay on what I supposed was a death bed, she knew how to
talk with me and how to pray for me, so as to impress me with her
sympathy for me and true faith in God. I can never forget those days
of my fearful looking for the messenger, death, when I was without
hope and God in the world. My dear aunt would say to me, when the
physician thought I would hardly recover: "Frank, I think you will get
well. I believe God has a great work for you. I can see it. He will
raise you up if you will only trust Him." Then she would bring duty
right to my heart, urge me to trust, faith, and repentance towards
God. How well I remember her asking, with the tears streaming down her
cheeks: "Now, Frank, can't you see Jesus in this?" the blessed _word_
which she had been reading. "Can't you look right to him and live?"
Then, after it pleased God to allow me to get well, she never forgot
me, but always urged me to give myself up to Christ, pointing out to
me the narrow escape which I had made, praying and agonizing with me;
so that to-day, whatever I am for humanity and God, I owe largely to
that sainted woman, as God's instrument.

At the head of the domestic circle, with my uncle, she appeared to
have a clear and high notion of home economy. Her house was a house of
order, pleasure, books, the Bible, religion, and prayer. Every member
of her family was taught that noble and divine idea of liberty in
love. The erring were made to feel the weight of guilt keenly, and the
force of love deeply. The well disposed were not flattered to ruin,
but urged to grace. She reared her children for heaven and God. If any
of them should fail to enjoy the end of her life in their behalf, she
will still have her reward.

In a letter to me, immediately subsequent to the marriage of her
youngest child, she said: "I have raised a family of six children. I
had long set up in my house an altar to God to which we all came, but
now, thank God, we have seven altars set up to Him." How great must
have been the satisfaction of seeing every one of her children not
only settled in life, but given to God. "Train up a child in the way
he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it," is well
verified in this case.

There was an air of grace and light in her house, which no one could
fail to observe, after a very short residence in her family.
Discussion of general topics was free and intelligent. Happy
expressions showed that their source was happy hearts.

The books on her shelves, though not so numerous as in many houses,
yet were of the best and from the finest authors. I infer, though I
never heard her say so, that Burns was one of her favorites among the

In social life my aunt had few superiors. She took a broad view of the
state and wants of her community, and was, therefore, one of its
leading and most useful members. Her opinions, with regard to matters
of general interest, were highly respected, and her advice often

While she was earnestly and plainly Christian in all her thoughts and
actions, yet she was not of a sad temperament. This made her able to
direct the thoughts of others in the proper way.

In the church she was for the last twenty-five years of her life an
abiding and faithful Christian. I have never met with any one who had
clearer views of the life and work of faith. Some of the most
comfortable, consoling, and impressive conversations I have ever had
with Christians, ministers not excepted, have been with her. Her
experience was rich, because she had cherished it as from God. The
latter part of her life was attended with great suffering, yet she
would not complain, but was made perfect through suffering and
allowing patience to have its perfect work. She had learned how to
endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.

I have made it a rule for ten or twelve years to write to my aunt as
soon as I returned home from watch-meetings. In this correspondence
she has given me much advice and encouragement in the walks of
Christianity; telling me of her own experience in suffering and
trusting, in the true spirit of Christian heroism, always expressing
herself as only awaiting the Lord's call. These letters have been to
me as angel's whispers, as heavenly messengers, telling me how to
live, how to wait and trust, and I might add, showing me how to die
unto the world daily.

With reference to the doctrine of holiness of heart, in my opinion,
she was perfectly clear, practical, and scriptural. By practical, I
mean in experience and in practice. Her utter rejection of _human_
perfection, but full faith in _Christian_ perfection, I think in
perfect keeping with the teachings of the holy Scriptures. She knew
the truth, and the truth made her free.

I have never heard one word of her latest testimony to the saving
power of the blood of Jesus, but, without hearing this, I venture the
assertion that she died rich in faith and abundantly sustained by
grace. O how sweetly, years before she died, have I heard her repeat
the consoling words: "I know that my Redeemer liveth!" (O, these
blessed words! more than all the words addressed to the human hearts
by all religions outside of ours), and "I am striving to make my
calling and elections sure," "I am pressing towards the mark," etc.
These added to what I know of her life, are enough to assure me of her
safe passage over the dark stream.

In the loss of her, Gouldtown has lost one of its stays and guides;
the world, an eminent woman, one of its greatest, because one of its
best, and the church one of its most valiant soldiers.

As for myself, I feel to weep with her children in the loss of a
spiritual mother, as well as a beloved and highly respected aunt. Let
her memory be dear to us, and her exemplary life be to us one of those
lights which illuminate the path of the just, "shining more and more,
until the perfect day."

With my grandmother, my aunt Tamson, my own dear father, and the
millions of sainted dead, let her body rest and her soul enjoy the
eternal bliss of _the promises_ and the God of the promises.

Mrs. Rebecca Steward BY BENJ. T. TANNER, D.D.

Exactly when or where the writer first made the acquaintance of the
subject of this memoir, is forgotten; but he deems himself exceedingly
fortunate in the fact itself. To know Rebecca Steward _now_, may not
seem much; but in after years, when the real greatness of her
character will have become known, as we doubt not it will, to have
known her, will be accounted a most happy incident in one's life.

It is so easy to talk of personal greatness, when the fact is, the
truly great are as rare as purest diamond. Not one in a thousand
approach it; not one in ten thousand attain to it, or, more properly
speaking, possess it--for it is a thing of possession, rather than of
acquirement. Be it born in you, you have it. If not, not. For while
there may be a tide in the affairs of men, which lead on to "fortune,"
there is no such tide to a greatness that is real.

Of the few really great souls whom it has been our privilege to know,
Mrs. Rebecca Steward was the peer of any. In a very broad sense she
was a great woman. As a daughter she was great in dutiful affection;
as a sister, in the very broadest sympathy; as a wife, in her
incomparable fidelity; and as a mother, in a patience that knew no

It need not, however, be expected, that any stranger could sound the
depth of her nature, in the above mentioned spheres. The qualities we
have presumed to mention, were those that floated upon the surface of
her life, and, like sweetest water lily, must need attract the
attention of the passer by.

It is as a friend and as a member of the African Methodist Episcopal
Church, that the writer himself knew her, and in both which spheres
she was eminently great. So vivid, indeed, are the remembrances of the
friendship that existed between her and ours, in view of her sudden
demise, we find most pertinent the words of Montgomery:

    "Friend after friend departs,
    Who hath not lost a friend?
    There is no union here of hearts
    That finds not here an end;
    Were the frail world our only rest,
    Living or dying, none were blest."

When the sad announcement of her death was made at our own dear
fireside, "Dead! Dead, Papa!" were the only words that first passed
from lip to lip, while a silence ensued that was painful.

But the real greatness of soul we purpose noticing, was that that
evidenced itself in regard to the Church of her choice. A more zealous
_African_ Methodist never lived. She had convictions in regard to the
work and the economy of the Church organized by Allen, and these
shaped her every course in life. Nothing could turn her against the
organization itself. Her love towards it was proof against episcopal
misjudgment or pastoral insufficiency. She looked from men to
principles. Though exceedingly intelligent, she shrank not back from
identifying herself with a class, known to be generally ignorant. Well
to do in the affairs of this world, she was content to remain as the
equal of the poor. And lastly, it might be in place to mention a
peculiarity of the locality in which this very attachment to a
despised Church was evidenced. The reader of this volumn will already
have learned that Gouldtown, N. J., is a peculiar place. Of descent in
blood by no means low, and of the strongest Presbyterian proclivities,
the Goulds have ever been thought exceedingly _conservative_--utterly
free from that fire which many suppose to be the substance of
Methodism. Upon the correctness of this thought it is no intention of
ours to pronounce. Sufficient is it to say, that the general bearing
of the community, secular and spiritual, is in keeping with their
recognized descent and religious bias. Such being the case, the wonder
is that they should have maintained their identity with the _African_
Methodist Episcopal Church. Nor is it certain that they would, had it
not been for the uncompromising zeal of the subject of this volume,
who ever stood like a very breakwater in its defence.

When we call to mind the scores of our people who have left us, on
account of our ignorance, our poverty, and our color, the fidelity of
Rebecca Steward is but an indication of that greatness of soul with
which we credit her, and which is yet to be the admiration of
generations unborn.

From our heart we say:

    "_Requiescat in pace._"

Mrs. Rebecca Steward BY REV. T. GOULD.

What I have to say is after thirty years' observation, to say nothing
of my early boyhood days, when I used to visit her house with my
father, who esteemed her as his own daughter and her husband as his
own son. To me they both seemed as elder brother and sister.

It appears to me that I can remember when I knew but little difference
between her husband and my own brothers. He being the oldest and the
first married out of the household, to me it was my oldest brother
getting married, and I was wonderfully well pleased with his wife.

When father would say "Theodore, I guess we will go and see James and
Beckie to-day," it was a grand treat for me, for I knew, boy like, I
was going to get something good to eat. Father having lost his
eye-sight, of course some one must lead him, and this was my lot, and
I have many a time heard her read the news and books of interest to
him. To visit them was pleasant to him to the day of his death.
Although he lived to have eight children married, (four boys and four
girls), I do not think he had a son-in-law or a daughter-in-law whom
he esteemed higher than he did the boy who spent fifteen or sixteen
years under his roof and the lady of his choice. In 1846 I united with
the church of which she was a member, and from that time to the day of
her death, I looked up to her for that advice and counsel which had
much to do with shaping my early life. And if I have been worth
anything to the church as a minister, her prayers, instructions and
counsel have helped to mould me into what I am.

I shall ever thank God for permitting me to have the association of
this Christian woman, whose very breath seemed to be perfumed with the
odor of heaven, for her daily food was God's word.

She was a Bible student; and in the Bible history was so well informed
and upon all the cardinal points of Bible doctrine, and the current or
popular questions of the day, that a very eminent and learned bishop
said to me several years ago after paying her a short visit, "No one
can possibly spend five minutes in conversation with Sister Steward
without being edified." Another intelligent minister said to me,
"Sister Steward is one of the best read women I ever had the favor of
conversing with."

To the church she was a pillar. She was among the few that were found
at the prayer meeting and Sabbath-school, and was always aiming to do
something for the Master's cause. As a wife and mother, I can only say
few husbands are favored as was her's. No woman could possibly be more
interested in the welfare of her husband's business than she was. She
was a helpmeet in every sense of the word to her husband. To my mind
but few children among us have been favored as were her's.

I doubt not but there are many lessons now fresh in their minds which
she taught them, which, if treasured up, will add to their present,
future, and eternal happiness. Oh, that we had more mothers like her!
whose devotion to their children would extort from their lips the
words of Sister Steward. In conversing with her one day, some years
since, when the children were getting pretty well grown, she
exclaimed, "Oh, the souls of my children! Oh, what would I do if one
of them should be lost! They are all good children, but the Saviour
says, 'ye must be born again,' that is what I want; to see them
converted is my constant prayer to God. Oh, it is the burden of my
heart." And more than once have we knelt in prayer together that she
might enjoy the pleasure of seeing _all of her children converted_.
Years passed, and one by one they came in.

I had not seen her for some time, but after the usual salutations
among the first things said was: "Thank God! He has let me live to see
all my children converted and in the church! My prayers are answered.
Thank God! The whole family is in the ark; what a happy woman I am!"
It was my privilege to visit her during several severe spells of
sickness. I have the first time yet to hear her murmur or complain;
but I have often heard her say: "These light afflictions which are but
for a moment, are working for me a far more exceeding and eternal
weight of glory." "My work is patience" was a familiar word with her
in affliction. To me she always seemed cheerful when she was in the
furnace, and it was her lot to be often there. She has been a great
sufferer, and yet, there seemed to be something in her experience that
impressed me that she was keeping up a terrible fight to get the
victory until her last sickness, which lasted between three and four
years. She said to me one day during that period: "Thank God, I have
got where I have long desired to be; that is, where I can trust God
for all things." She said some of her happiest hours were spent in the

The devotion to her aged and infirm mother, who had been confined to
her room for twenty-six years, with but little exception, was marked
and intense. When her health and circumstances would permit, she has
walked the mile, between her house and her mother's, back and forth,
two and three times a week, to assist in making her mother
comfortable. It appears that a wonderful providence was attending her
life, and preparing her to depart to that Better Land. It seems that
the Master was sparing her to see her mother of ninety years close her
eyes before He called her to that blessed reward with that sainted
mother, who went three weeks before her, and a dear sister, who had
gone a day before her mother. Oh, what a blessed meeting there must
have been, when they met in that heavenly land; where affliction and
sorrow are all over, and where the dead in Christ rest from their
labors and their works follow them!

Aunt Rebecca Steward BY MRS. ELIZABETH LLOYD. (NIECE.)

I cannot remember the time when I did not love and revere Aunt
Rebecca; but my most precious remembrances of her are connected with
the sabbath school, where, to my mind, she was incomparable; and even
now, after the lapse of twenty-five years, the precious lessons that
she taught her class are still in my mind and heart, and have greatly
influenced my life and kept me from forbidden paths. You must know, as
long as I attended Gouldtown Sunday School, which was from the
reorganization of the school (which, under God, was wholly through
Aunt Rebecca's influence), I was a member of her class.

There was one lesson that she used frequently give us, from the second
chapter of first Peter, it seems to me, that I shall ever remember.
With what earnestness and with what solemnity did she strive to
enforce its beautiful teachings upon our hearts. Again I remember one
particular lesson she gave personally to me, and, as I remember it
well yet, it must prove how faithful she was in teaching. Among her
very words were: "_Search the Scriptures, and may they make you wise
unto salvation! May they be a guide to your feet and a light to your
path, and may your sins be blotted out!_" Very likely Aunt Rebecca had
forgotten it long since, but I never have. When I was fifteen years of
age, I was strongly exercised in mind about salvation, and it was Aunt
Rebecca who helped me then; and ever since, in my somewhat chequered
life, my heart has always turned to her, and, I must say, that never
once have I left her presence without feeling better, stronger, and
wiser. She was a kind of inspiration to me. I have gone to her when I
have felt that I was in the depths, and have left, feeling as if I
could brave all things, and endure all things for the love of Christ.
I have been so comforted by her words of wisdom and encouragement,
and, sometimes, by her words of reproof also; for she never failed in
her gentle, sweet, and yet decided manner in telling me wherein she
thought I was wrong, for which to-day I thank her. In one instance, I
went to her, overwhelmed with my sorrow, and ready to despair; she
reflected a while, and then asked: If I had ever prayed for C----? I
found that I never had. She showed me my duty in such a plain way, and
said, that if I prayed for him, that I would not have such bitter
feelings; and how earnestly she entreated me to begin praying for him.
Among the words she used, were: "You could not bear to see that man
lost, cut off from Christ forever. Think of the relationship he holds
to yourself and your children. _You must pray for him!_" This was four
years ago, but the seed, that was sown that day, is still bearing
fruit, and I have been blessed myself while praying for _him_. * * * *
I now know that she had been taught of Christ. When I lost my little
girl, Annie, though she was unable to walk without a staff, like an
angel of mercy, she came to me in my sorrow, and prayed and talked
with me, and now, my more than aunt, my almost mother, who, or what
will fill your place to me? With tears in my eyes, and pain in my
heart, I ask who? Ever since I can remember, I have gone to you with
what I could not go to any one else; always sure of a loving welcome,
and always the gainer, through your words of wisdom! Oh! how I loved
Aunt Rebecca! I remember, when she was confined to her room so long,
of her once saying to me, that she often prayed for me. I was overcome
to tears, thinking how good, how charitable she was, to remember me in
her afflictions. That parlor seemed to me then, and has ever since,
like the gate of heaven and house of prayer. When I think of my dear
aunt's goodness, and of her truly noble womanhood, of her grand
intellect, and, withal, of her sweet humility, of her perfect faith
and trust, and obedience to the Father's will, and of how she labored
for the advancement of Christ's Kingdom, I can but say: "Many
daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all." She
never lost an opportunity of saying a word for Jesus, and no one ever
came near her influence, without knowing, that she had learned of
Christ. I never remember of asking for instruction of her, upon any
subject, without getting it; and I have heard many others say the
same. It seemed to me, that she always had a word in season. She was
certainly the most self-sacrificing of any woman that I ever knew. She
was always willing to do good, no matter at what expense to the body,
if she could; and, it seemed to me, that she was always looking for an

In the purity and loftiness, and expansiveness of her nature, there
was no room for that narrow-minded selfishness, which cannot rejoice
with those that do rejoice. Of her it can be truly said: SHE LOVED HER
NEIGHBOR AS HERSELF; and she was pleased with the advancement of every

As long, and as well as I have known her, I have never known her to
speak of the shortcomings of others, only, in what seems to me, as the
highest and broadest charity of a pure-minded christian woman, with
sorrow and regret that they had so failed.

Another admirable trait was her straightforwardness. Her clear
insight, that seemed to grasp and hold the most difficult truths,
while the rest of us were struggling with doubts and fears, scarcely
telling gold from dross, led her to seize always the pure gold.

Truly, she was ever ready for every good word and labor of love. I
call to mind deeds of charity, of which the world knows nothing, which
greatly benefitted the recipients; and her ever ready sympathies with
the wants and woes of others, assures me, that she won the approbation
of Him, who said: "Inasmuch, as ye have done it to one of the least of
these, my disciples, ye have done it unto me."

     Dear cousin, there may be many more learned and eloquent
     tributes paid to your mother's memory, but none can be more
     loving than mine; and, if you will permit this letter (crude I
     know, for I am not accustomed to writing out my thoughts), to
     share a place among them, I shall feel honored.

     Your cousin,



Containing: "Two Years on the Brink of Jordan," with Letters on
Sanctification and a Story for Little Folks; the last named written
expressly for Two Little Nephews,



Early one spring morning, as I was going about my work, a messenger
arrived, saying my Father wanted me. So I made haste and finished up
all my work, looked over my wardrobe, picked out and packed up such
articles as I thought I should need, and started on my journey, my
guide going on before. We had not traveled far before we came to a
broad, dark river, whose waters at the time were very much swollen. My
guide said, I would have to wait awhile till a ferryboat could come
and take me across; so I sat down on the bank of the river and began
musing. The river, though so dark and swollen, did not look so
dreary, for my guide had given me a telescope, through which I could
look away beyond and see my Father's House, which was illuminated with
glory and light; and the light from that far mansion shone over the
river and the dark valley all around. While I sat there musing, the
boat came, but not for me; there were other friends there, the Father
had sent for before me; but he sent me this comforting message: "I
will never leave thee, nor forsake thee," and my soul answered: "All
the days of my appointed time will I wait till my change comes." (Job
iv., 14.) And so for many days I sat there waiting and musing; again
and again the boat came and went, friend after friend passed over, but
still the message came not for me. At length I began to grow weary and
impatient; to neglect my Father's business; saying my Lord delays his
coming; then came this quiet reproval: "Ye have need of patience, that
after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise."
"For yet a little while and He that is to come will come and will not
tarry." (Heb. ix., 36, 37.) After this gentle reproof, I felt ashamed
and strove to humble myself under the mighty hand of God, and in due
time He did build me up, for my guide advised me to take my telescope
and take another look towards my Father's House. I did so, and the
sight gave me new vigor, for I could see all the surroundings of my
Home. I could see its beautiful gardens, all its choicest fruit and
its sweetest flowers; and flowing through the midst of the garden I
could see the "pure river" of the "Water of Life," which watered and
enlivened every plant that grew in the garden; and on either side of
the river stood the "Tree of life," "which bore twelve manner of
fruit, and yielded her fruit every month, and the leaves of the tree
were good for the healing of the nations;" then there was the sweet
Lilly of the Valley, in its humble innocence sending up its rich
perfume; then the "Rose of Sharon" was there, whose odor filled the
air with sweetness, and the Birds of Paradise were there,--those sweet
little songsters that the Father had brought from the cold, sterile
regions beyond Jordan, and placed in His beautiful garden. They were
busily flitting from branch to branch, warbling forth their sweetest
notes, and making the air resound with their music. Some of them I
thought I almost knew, by the mark of their feathers. As I sat gazing,
the river that before had been so swollen, seemed to subside and
become very narrow, and seemed as if I had nothing to do, but get up
and walk across; but my guide detained me, saying: "If ye be willing
and obedient, ye shall in due time eat the good of the land, but if
disobedient, the sword of the enemy shall devour you."

       *       *       *       *       *

Being still detained and feeling somewhat weary, "I laid me down and
slept, and awoke again, for the Lord sustained me." On awaking, I
took up my telescope to take another look across, but I only had it
adjusted to my eye, when I again discovered the ferryboat in the
distance. This time I thought surely it was coming for me, and began
to look around and make all things ready for departure; but again I
was doomed to disappointment. The boat came, but not for me this time
either; another friend must go before me, one whom the Father thought
more weak and needy than I. And as He saw me begin to grieve and fret,
He sent me another comforting message, saying: "I will not leave the
comfortless, in the sixth trial; and in the seventh, I will not leave
thee nor forsake thee." Then again my soul replied, I will fear no
evil; in God alone will I put my trust. When I found I had to wait
awhile longer, I thought I would look around on this side of Jordan,
for I had been so anxious to get home to my Father's House, and so
busy looking beyond, that I had not noticed anything on this side so
much; and in the glory of light that beamed across the river, I had
not noticed the poisonous flowers that spread their baneful influence
over all the land, or the muddy, filthy pools, sending up their
miasmatic odors, poisoning the air; and while I was looking, with
shame let me say it, poisonous as were those flowers, noxious as was
the vapor from the pools, I began to be interested in them, and to
seek after them; so much so, that my guide said softly in my ear:
"Watch and pray, lest ye enter into temptation." (Matt. xxvi., 41.)
But I was so engrossed with the flowers, and the whisper came so
softly, that I did not heed it, but kept on going farther away from
the river, losing sight more and more of my Father's House. Again my
guide called after me, but this time in louder tones: "Therefore be ye
also ready, for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of Man
cometh." (Matt. xxvi., 24.) But still, strange as it may seem, and as
ungrateful as it appears after the pleasant view I had had of my
Father's House, and the soothing promises he had given me, such is
perverse human nature, that I paid but little heed, but still wandered
on, plucking flowers, now here, now there, 'till I had gone quite
away; but still my loving Father would not leave me, "for whom the
Lord loveth he chasteneth," and on looking up I saw my guide
approaching with a rod, which, when he came near enough, he laid
heavily about me. Humbled, ashamed and bleeding, he brought me back
and laid me exhausted on the bank, where I lay for many days without
power to move or courage to look up. Although I had been so
disobedient, yet was my guide most assiduous in his attentions and
care of me, saying: "If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as
with sons, for what son is he whom the Father chasteneth not. (Heb.
xii., 70.) And as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth
them that love him, for he knows our frame that we are but dust."
(Ps. clxxxiii, 13.) It sorely repented me, and with the Psalmist I
exclaimed: "My feet were almost gone, my steps were well nigh
slipped." (Ps. lviii, 2) Then I began to cry mightily unto the Lord
for help, and from His temple He heard me, and from His Holy Hill He
sent me succor. And I was comforted by this message: "Before thou
callest I will hear thee, and while thou art yet speaking, I will
answer thee." Being thus comforted and somewhat strengthened, my guide
advised me to take up my telescope again and take another look across
the river. It had been so long since I had looked across, he thought
it would do me good, and so it did; for as I looked the green shores
appeared so pleasant and inviting to me, it made me feel at once like
passing over, and while I was gazing I saw the boat again leave the
shore; this time I thought it would certainly come for me. Again I
gathered up my things making ready to depart, and many friends
gathered around me, mourning and weeping, begging me not to go, but
stay with them; yet I was anxious to be gone. Many were the petitions
that went over to my Father's House to spare me a little longer, that
"they could not do without me;" in this I could not join them. I could
only say: "Lord let thy will be done." Meanwhile the boat came nearer
and nearer, and I lay looking, both hoping and fearing; hoping it was
coming for me, and fearing it was coming for me; for like the apostle
I was in a strait betwixt two: "for me to live is Christ, but to die
is gain." (Phil. vii., 21-23.) And I suppose that the prayers of
tender friends must have prevailed, for when the boat drew nearer, I
found it was not coming for me yet, but I received this message: "Let
Patience have her perfect work that ye may be perfect and entire,
wanting nothing." (James, i., 4.) From this I saw that Patience was to
be my best friend and I tried to take her close to my bosom, and my
heart breathed the prayer: "Lord help me with Patience to do all thy
righteous will concerning me," and, as I sat there, with Patience for
my comforter, I grew calm and composed and began to wonder what had
become of the boat I had seen approaching, when, on looking around, I
saw it had stopped close by an old friend that had been laying there
for a long time; almost ever since I had been there, and, while I
looked, I saw her with a shout spring up and step quickly into the
boat. Oh! with what rapture I gazed; and when the boat struck out from
the shore I could hardly contain myself, I felt I really must go too.
But Patience laid her hand on me, and whispered to me, to take my
telescope and look after them; and, as I looked, the boat sprang from
the shore with great velocity; the river seemed to become narrower,
and the light from my Father's Temple so illuminated it, that the
darkness had all fled away; and, as I gazed, my vision became brighter
and brighter, and my telescope became more powerful, and it seemed, I
might follow the boat with my naked eye, as it sped its way across,
until it neared the other shore; and, as it neared the shore, I saw
the pearly gates of my Father's House fly open, a company came out to
meet her, with songs of welcome, saying: "Come ye, blessed of my
Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of
the world." (Math. xxv., 34.) So they took hold of her and led her in
through the gates; and, as they went through, I could hear the
warbling of the birds amidst the rustling of the leaves, and could see
the waving grass and sweet flowers, and the waters rippling along
their winding way. As I looked, I really thought there were more birds
than I had ever seen before; and I never heard them sing so sweetly.
As I gazed upon the shining ones, I tried to see if I could recognize
any of them; and I thought I could see several whose faces were
familiar to me there, and with whom I had associated; and, while I was
still looking, they led her into the vestry; then I lost sight of her
awhile; but, presently, they brought her forth clothed in white linen,
pure and clean, and a palm of victory was placed in her hand; then I
saw a greater number come to meet her, and they all joined in one
mighty overpowering song, saying: "Salvation to our God, who sitteth
on the throne, and unto the Lamb." (Rev. vii., 10.)

As I heard this, my heart felt like bursting with rapture. O! how I
longed to be there! Just then the pearly gates swung to, and I could
see them no more. When I could see no more within, I thought I would
take a look around and view the holy ground, and "mark well her
bulwarks." So I looked well around her walls, and measured her towers,
which I found to be very strong, so that no enemy could prevail
against them; and her walls were great and high, and I found they lay
four-square and rested on twelve foundations, all of them precious
stones, and on each foundation there was a name written, which, when I
had looked more closely, I found to be the names of the twelve tribes
of the children of Israel; and in each wall I saw there were three
gates, and on the gates I saw the names of the twelve apostles of the
Lamb; and, as I still looked, I saw numbers coming and entering in at
the gates, from all parts of the world, East, West, North, and South;
every gate seemed in use, and with every new arrival there were new
songs of praise. As I still looked, I discovered, that all that went
over, did not enter the pearly gates; but, instead, some were hurled
over a dreadful precipice, which lay just below the wall, and led to a
dark, dreary gulf below, where the voice of their groanings was
dreadful to hear. Then I asked: "Who are these?" And my guide informed
me: "These are they that go away into everlasting punishment, and the
smoke of their torment ascends up forever and ever." And now my guide
thought I had seen quite enough for awhile, and so had better lie down
and rest; musing on these words: "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,
neither has it entered the heart of man, the things which God has
prepared for them that love Him."

While wondering what more could be for the child of God, than that
which my eyes had already seen, I fell asleep. When I awoke,
everything looked calm and bright around me; so I thought, with
Patience, I would take a stroll along the banks, and see if there were
any friends there whom I knew; for I saw many had gathered there
unobserved, while I had been so deeply interested in what was going
on, on the other side of the river. As I went around from one to
another, I found several I was acquainted with; some had been waiting
for a long time, others had just arrived. Some were waiting with
patience, others were growing very impatient. To while away the time,
and for mutual encouragement, I sat down, and entered into
conversation with some of them. "For as iron sharpeneth iron, so doth
a man the face of his friend." Some had grown very weary, and one
said: "I would have fainted, unless I had believed, to see the
goodness of the Lord in the land of the living; and now I believe,
that ere long I shall see the King in his beauty, for I have the
promise, that He, that is to come, will come, and will not tarry. And
my Father's command is: Wait on the Lord, be of good courage; and also
the promise: And He shall strengthen thine heart. Wait, I say, on the

With this I felt very much encouraged, and felt as if I too could
"Wait on the Lord." Much more encouragement from one and another I
found, till presently I saw one coming up in great haste, saying: "My
Father has just sent for me in great haste, and I must be gone. Have
you seen the boat that takes us across?" I looked up and saw it
coming, and, while waiting for it to come to the shore, I asked her at
what time the messenger came for her. "In the early part of the
evening," she said, just as she had folded away all her work, and
closed up her house, and had sit down, to enjoy a long, quiet evening,
thinking over those texts of warning: "Let your loins be girded about
you, and your lights burning." Another: "Be ye also ready; for in an
hour, when you think not, the Son of man cometh." And said she: Just
while I was musing on these things, there came a knock at the door,
and the messenger came in, saying: "The Master calleth for thee;" so I
left all and made great haste to get here. The boat then came
alongside; she sprang in, and it shot off from the shore like an
arrow. Again I felt as if I _could_ not be left behind; and, feeling
so anxious to go, I almost sprang into the water; for the river looked
so narrow, and I could see the bottom so plain; it seemed as if I
could walk across; but Patience laid hold of me and gently held me
back, saying: "Wait on the Lord, that the trial of your faith being
much more precious than of gold, that perisheth, though it be tried
with fire, might be found unto praise and honor and glory at the
appearing of Jesus Christ."

But I still felt so homesick and complaining, that my friend had
almost gained the other side, before I had observed it; so, then, I
thought, if I could not go, I could see across, and with my telescope
I could follow her and see her enter the pearly gates; by this time
she had reached the shore, and I saw a great company come out to meet
her, having harps in their hands; among them were several that I knew,
who had journeyed with us through life, whom I had heard many times
tell their hopes and fears; but, now, they were safely housed in their
Father's mansion, never more to go out. As they came to her they
commenced chanting: "Blessed are they that do his commandments; that
they may have a right to the Tree of Life, and may enter in through
the gates into the City."

As they led her through the gates, I again heard the singing of birds;
it seemed to me, at this time, they sang louder and sweeter than ever.
And amongst them I saw three,[1] that I thought looked more bright
and cheerful than the rest. These kept all the time very near her,
sometimes sitting on her shoulders, sometimes in one place, then
another; but all the time keeping near her, and expressing the utmost
joy. On examining more closely, I found they were some pets that she
had sent to her Father several years before; and now they led her into
the vestry; and, while they were robing her, as the gates were still
ajar, I thought I would look further within. So, by readjusting my
telescope, and increasing its magnifying power, I could see away
beyond the walls; and I discovered there "many mansions," that my
"Elder Brother" had gone many years ago to prepare, for all those that
love him. I thought, "my sister will soon inhabit one of these
mansions," and, how long, ere I too shall inhabit one also; and, in
the anxiety and desire of my soul, I cried: "How long, oh Lord!" Then
my guide whispered, reprovingly: "In patience possess ye your soul."
So, being comforted, I continued my gaze, and, looking further on, I
saw a great and high mountain, which, my guide told me, was Mount
Zion; and a Lamb stood on the mountain, and with him a hundred and
forty and four thousands, having their Father's name written in their
foreheads; and I heard a voice from heaven, as the voice of many
waters, and as the voice of a great thunder; and I heard the voice of
harpers, harping on their harps; and, they sang, as it were, a new
song before the throne. (Rev. xiv., 1-3.) Then I inquired of my guide
who the Lamb was, and who was this great company that was with him;
and he said: "The Lamb is He that was slain from the foundation of the
world, and they, that are with him, are those who follow the Lamb,
withersoever he goeth; these were redeemed from among men, being the
first fruits unto God and the Lamb." As I listened to their music, I
tried to hear what they were singing; and I found they were singing
the "Song of Moses, the servant of God," and the song of the Lamb,
saying: "Great and marvelous are thy ways, Lord God Almighty. Just and
true are thy ways, thou King of Saints. Who shall not fear thee, O
Lord, and glorify thy name, for Thou only art holy; for all nations
shall come and worship before thee, for thy judgments are made
manifest." (Rev. xv., 3, 4.)

[1] Three children that this Christian mother had buried

I had become so enraptured with this beautiful sight, and so charmed
with the music, that I had quite forgotten my sister; but now I
bethought myself to look for her. I had not looked long, before I
discovered her amidst the company of the just made perfect; and, I
thought, her song was the loudest of any, as she sang: "I have come up
through tribulations, and washed my robes and made them white in the
blood of the Lamb!" Oh, how I longed to be amongst the heavenly
throng; but just then I heard friends calling me on this side, saying:
"Oh, be content to stay with us a little longer; we cannot let you go;
even lying here, we cannot do without you; even this is better than
not have you at all." The little children came winding themselves
around me, begging me to stay. "Oh," they would say, "we do want you
to be back among us; we cannot bear you to leave us." Oh! the power of
human love! How my heart was grieved! I was again in a strait betwixt
two; for, indeed, I felt it better to "depart and be with Christ." But
my Father knew best what he wanted me to do, so He left me the
promise: "Abide in me and I will abide in you; I will not leave you
comfortless; I will come to you." After this I entered into
conversation with my guide, about my friends that had gone over; said
he: "How did you know those friends?" I answered by asking him another
equally important question: "How did you know the Lamb that was slain
from the foundation of the world?" Said he: "I knew Him by the marks
in His hands and side, (John xx., 20), and from what the angels told
us when He was taken up into heaven and a cloud received him out of
sight." "This same Jesus," said they, "which is taken up from you into
heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into
heaven." (Acts i., 9.) Well, said I, that is just how I knew my
friends; by the marks on them. Some men will say: "How are the dead
raised up, and with what body do they come? Thou fool; that which thou
sowest is not quickened, except it die, and that, which thou sowest,
thou sowest not that body that shall be, but are grain; it may chance
of wheat, or of some other grain, but God giveth it a body as it hath
pleased him, and to every _seed his own body_. There are also
celestial bodies and bodies terrestial; but the glory of the celestial
is one and the glory of the terrestial is another. There is one glory
of the sun and another of the moon, and another glory of the stars;
for _one star differeth from another star in glory_, so also _is the
resurrection of the dead_. It is sown a natural body, it is raised a
spiritual body; there is a natural body, and there is a spiritual
body. And so it is written, that the first man, Adam, was made a
living soul, the last Adam was made a quickening spirit. How be it,
that was not first which is spiritual, but that which is natural, and
afterward that which is spiritual. The first man is of earth, earthy,
the second man is the Lord from heaven. As is the earthy, such are
they also that are earthy; and as is the heavenly, such are they also
that are heavenly. And as we have born the image of the earthy, we
shall also bear the image of the heavenly. Now this I say, brethren,
that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God; neither doth
corruption inherit incorruption." (1 Cor. xv.) Now this is the way
that I know them. As the Lamb that was slain, took upon him the image
of the earth, earthy, the form of a servant, so do they take upon them
the image of the Lord from heaven; and, as you have shown me the Lamb,
I cannot be mistaken in them, and I think when I look again, I shall
find many more that I have known; for I think I know what kind of
_seed_ they were, and from every seed I look for its own plant. Then
said my guide: "Who else do you think you will find there, besides
your immediate friends?" I answered: "I think I shall see Moses and
Elijah, from the fact that they were seen with my Saviour on the Mount
of Transfiguration; and God is not the God of the dead, but of the
living. And I think I shall see Abraham, because Christ himself says
the rich man saw him with Lazarus in his bosom. And I shall see
Israel, for the Revelator tells me that he saw one hundred and forty
and four thousand of the children there. I shall see Solomon and
David, and Samuel and Paul, and Peter, and so many others that I
cannot now name, all of the one hundred and forty and four thousand of
the tribes of Israel." I felt so rejoiced with the thought of meeting
so many, that I could heartily join with the Poet in saying:

    "Give joy or grief, give ease or pain,
    Take life or friends away.
    But let me find them all again,
    In that Eternal day."

For many days more I lay there on the brink, waiting for the boatman;
but still he came not. I began to think Patience was about to desert
me; it seemed to me, I had so nearly lost sight of her, that I could
hardly hear her voice; then I cried unto my Father: "Cast me not away
from thy presence, and take not thy holy spirit from me!" Then came
the message: "Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for him;" this
comforting, though short message, cheered me much, for it seemed to
bring a sweet sense of rest and security with it; and with the
Psalmist I could say: "Thy mercy, O Lord, is in the Heavens, and thy
faithfulness reaches into the clouds; thy righteousness is like the
great mountains; thy judgments are as great deeps; Lord, thou
preservest man and beast; how excellent is thy loving kindness, O God;
therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of thy
wing; they shall be abundantly satisfied with the fatness of thy
house, and thou shalt make them drink of the rivers of thy pleasures."
I felt filled with that sweet peace that flows as a river, and enters
in and fills the soul with glory and with God. As the boatman came not
for me yet, I thought I would look around again and see if any new
friends had gathered along the brink; and, while I was looking, I saw
one coming with slow, reluctant step, as if he would rather stay on
this side of Jordan than to cross over; but his guide kept urging him
on with the Father's message: "Come unto me all ye that are weary and
heavy laden, and I will give you rest." "Well," said he, "I am weary
and heavy laden; I have had a tiresome journey through this howling
wilderness, and fain would find rest; but I have become so dirty and
bedabbled through the swamps and quagmires, that I have not a garment
fit to appear before Him in." The guide answered: "All that _will_
come, may come and partake of the waters of life freely." Then said
he: "I will arise and go to my Father." He brightened up and quickened
his pace; as soon as the guide saw that he was willing to go, he sent
to the servants to bring hither the best robe and put it on him; and,
so neatly clad, and in his right mind, I saw him approach the "bank,"
and seeing he would have to wait some time for the boatman, I entered
into conversation, by asking at what time the Father sent for him; he
said: "Just about noon, just as I had finished up my morning's work,
and thought the hardest of the day was done, and I could in the
afternoon finish those little jobs that I had planned in the morning;
but in the hour, I thought not, the Son of man came." "But what," I
asked, "made you so reluctant to come?" "Oh," said he, "I thought the
Father was angry with me; for it is written: 'God is angry with the
wicked every day;' but I heard another say: 'He that cometh with a
broken and a contrite heart, he will in no wise cast out.' I thought
I would go, for I could only perish anyway, and if I tried to stay
away, I knew I should perish; another said to me:

    "A broken heart He'll not despise,
    Nor on the contrite sinner frown,
    His ear is open to their cries,
    He'll quickly send salvation down."

"And He did send salvation; for, when I cried mightily unto the Lord,
He heard me, and from His Holy Hill He sent me help; He took me up
from the mire and clay and dressed me in garments neat and clean, and
has brought me in sight of my heavenly rest! Only this narrow river
lies between, and I shall cross that, for I think I see the boatman
coming now." With a glad shout of triumph he entered the boat and was
gone. I knew the gates would be opened again, so I made haste to
gather up my telescope; and again I saw the shining ones come to meet
and welcome a brother to his eternal rest; and again I heard the glad
shouts of welcome and praise, as they dressed him in clean, white
robes, and put a crown on his head, and led him to the Father, who met
him, and with His own hand wiped all tears from his eyes, telling him,
he should have no more sorrow, nor crying, nor sickness, nor death,
nor go any more out, neither should he thirst any more, and the sun
should not light on him, nor any heat. Oh! What more, I thought, could
I want to make up an eternal rest! Just then my attention was
attracted by the sound of unutterable groanings and crying, and I
looked around to see what it all meant, and I saw close beside me one
lying apparently in great agony. I inquired what could be the matter?
Said he: "Just this morning, quite early, the Master has sent for me,
and here I am; naked and barefooted; without a thing to cover me; I
had a garment all washed in the blood of the Lamb. The Master provided
it for me, but I thought it was too long and straight for me; so I
laid it aside, and now I cannot find it; OH! HELP ME TO LOOK FOR IT!"
By this time others hearing his cries had been attracted to the spot,
and in piteous moans and tears he begged, he entreated them, to assist
in searching for the neglected robe. All this while he lay there
without making an effort to seek for it himself; and, although his
friends searched with much earnestness, they could not find it. They
then besought him to get up and look for it himself; but he could not
be persuaded, and would continue to lie there groaning, and begging
them to continue their search. Meanwhile the boatman was waiting and
urging him to go, till finally he compelled him to go on board, and
the boat pushed off; and immediately the river became so dark and
swollen, that we lost sight of it, and we _could see it no more_.
Surely, thought I, "The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is
eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord."

For many days I lay there, feeling very listless, not caring to look
beyond the river, nor even to look on this side. I was just in the
condition to listen to the voice of the tempter, when he whispered:
"Why stay here any longer? the Lord delays his coming; He might have
come sooner; it is very cruel to be lying in this dreary, loathsome
place so long." And again, with shame I must confess, that after all
the visions of glory I had seen, and all of my Father's goodness to
me, I listened to his wily whispering, till I became almost enraged,
and began to cast about me this way and that, for a way of
deliverance. At one moment I would feel like going back into the
wilderness, in all its filth and quagmires, and the next I would feel
like rushing headlong, uncalled for, into the river; any way, it
seemed to me, to get out of this murky, deathly atmosphere. For
several days I was thus tempted. Oh! those were dreadful days to me! I
sat in sullen silence, and would not look toward my Father's house; I
would not see the light that was beaming across; would not see my
Father's gracious smile; nor would I see His loving hand reached out
to help me. My telescope lay beside me, but I would not take it up.
But, oh! the depth of the wisdom and knowledge of God! "How
unsearchable are His judgments, and His ways past finding out!"
Blessed be His Holy Name. He would not leave me, nor suffer His loving
kindness to be removed from me; but in the midst of deserved wrath He
remembered mercy toward me. On looking up I saw my guide coming near,
saying: "Dost thou well to be angry. Hast thou not received good from
the hands of the Lord, and shalt thou not receive the evil? And if
thou doest well, shalt thou not dwell in the land of the living
forever? For the mercy of the Lord is round about them that put their
trust in Him. Though clouds and darkness may be round about Him, yet
righteousness and judgment are the habitation of His throne." At these
words the tempter left me, and Patience again resumed her seat, and
commenced to soothe and tranquilize my spirit, saying: "Return unto
thy rest, for the Lord has dealt bountifully with thee. Ye, that fear
the Lord, trust in the Lord, for He is your help and your shield. O!
forget not all His mercies." At this I felt very much humbled and
sinsick; and I longed to be free from the power of sin and temptation,
and earnestly I prayed the Father: "Lead me not into temptation, but
deliver me from all evil!" And with the apostle I could exclaim: "Oh!
wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from the body of this
death? Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! Then I would fly away and
be at rest." "But then," said Patience, "as you cannot go yet, you had
better take your telescope and look again beyond the river." So I took
it up and began to look around; first on this side, but here, as
usual, I could find no rest or abiding place; nothing but filth and
stench that sickened me; but as soon as I turned my gaze toward my
Father's house, I was struck with the glorious light that fell from
the place; for it seemed to shine with peculiar brightness; and, as
the gates were ajar, I could look full within; but I could see no sun,
nor moon, nor the light of a candle; but the light was glorious, far
surpassing the light of the sun at noon-day. So I looked in wonder, to
see from where it came. My guide said: "There is no need of the sun or
of the moon to shine in it, for the glory of God did lighten it, and
the Lamb is the light thereof. (Rev. xx., 2, 3.) And this is the same
light that has lighted up this valley ever since the time the Lamb
passed through it and fought and conquered the tempter; for it was in
this valley He spent some time, and on this bank He was hard beset;
here was the dreadful conflict; here it was He was hedged in as you
are; here the tempter raged as he never had raged before; and Jordan
swelled and roared, and overflowed her banks; such a time was never
known before, since the world began; but the Lamb gained the victory;
bound the enemy, subdued Jordan, and passed safely over. And all his
followers have to do, is to keep in the light and they need not fear."
Then the prayer arose from my heart: "Oh Lord! help me to walk in the
light of thy countenance; my times are in thy hands; deliver me from
the hands of my enemies; make thy face to shine on thy servant; save
me for thy mercies' sake." Then said my guide: "_Be of good cheer_."

    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *




I have often heard it questioned: Can we live in a sanctified state? I
ask first, is not Christ able to keep us in a sanctified state? Did
God ever break a covenant that He has made? Every covenant He has made
with man has been sealed with blood; and the Apostle says, without the
shedding of blood is no _remission of sins_. When God made His
promises to Abraham, that in his seed all the nations of the earth
should be blessed, He made Abraham take an heifer of three years old,
a she-goat of three years old, a ram, a turtle dove and a young
pigeon, and divide them asunder, that the flowing blood might, as it
were, cleanse the passage between the parts; and the Lord passing
between the parts in the form of a smoking furnace and a burning lamp,
swore unto Abraham that to him and his seed He would give that land
forever. Having sealed the covenant with blood, and with an oath, God
was bound to keep it; and He did keep it. Although He permitted them
to be severely tried and carried away from their own land into cruel
bondage, and to serve under hard task-masters for many years, yet did
they become a great nation, for God had said: "In blessing I will
bless thee, and in multiplying I will multiply thy seed as the stars
of heaven," and "in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be

When God is about bringing them out of bondage, He renews His covenant
and again requires blood; but this time the blood of a perfect lamb,
and the blood must be sprinkled upon the door-posts and lintels of
every door, setting the inmates apart to God, or showing that God's
people dwelt there; and the destroying angel passed over the land but
destroyed them not, because God knew and kept them. He brought them
safely out of bondage into a wilderness, and conducted them _through_
the wilderness safely to the promised rest. He did not at once let
then enter into that rest; but kept them in the wilderness to try
them, and prove them. They were His people, sanctified to Him by the
blood of the perfect lamb, and He could keep them just as well in the
wilderness as in the land of Canaan. He could spread their table in
the sight of their foes. When they wanted meat, He gave them quails in
abundance; when they wanted bread, He sent them manna from
heaven--angels food; when they wanted water the rock contained a full
supply, but must be smitten to produce it; and it sent forth a stream
that followed them through all their journey, typifying the spirit of
grace that accompanies the child of God through all his journey.
Although they wandered forty years in the wilderness, their garments
did not grow old, nor their sandals wear out. So we see that God
provided for them through all their wandering and brought them to that
promised rest, and according to his promise they became a great

Once more, God renews the covenant He made with Abraham, or in other
words fulfilled it. Here it requires again the shedding of blood, and
this time it must be the precious blood of the Lord Jesus, the only
begotten son of God which cleanses from all sin. If the typical blood
of Abraham's heifer and Moses' lamb, could prevail with God, to the
temporal salvation of man, how much more shall the precious blood of
Christ prevail to the purifying and washing away of all our sins. As
God gave the promise of the "seed" to Abraham, and set it apart in
Israel, he has perfected it in Christ. As He kept them (His people) in
the temporal wilderness through which they had to pass to get to their
promised rest, so will He keep us in Christ through this wilderness of
sin through which we must all pass. It is not His will to take us at
once from the world; but to keep us in the world; to help build up
His kingdom in the world; for it must take perfect workmen to do
perfect work.

Christ when praying for his Apostles, prayed not the Father to take
them out of the world; but that He should keep them from the evil of
the world. Nor need we ever look to be freed from temptation; but He
will not suffer more to come upon us than He will give us grace to
bear, and with every temptation will provide a way for our escape.
Christ at one time said to Peter "Satan desireth to have thee, that he
may sift thee as wheat;" but what follows? The wrath of God hangs over
Peter, but Christ our mediator intercedes, and his soothing words are,
"I have prayed the Father for thee, that thy faith fail thee not; and
when thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren." Thus we must be
kept for mutual aid and for mutual comfort.

If God were to remove each one as soon as he becomes perfect in
Christ, who would be left to tell transgressors the way? Or how could
the kingdom of Christ flourish in the world? For the kingdoms of this
world are to become the kingdoms of our Lord and His Christ, and the
sanctified Christian is the salt of the earth. Take him away, and what
becomes of the world? God has use for all His perfect men and women in
the world; they must be _in_ the world, but not _of_ the world.

It is a mistaken idea that we can be Christians and not sanctified
Christians; and, as God has use for us in the world, it is very plain
that He is not only able to keep us, but He will keep us, until He has
finished all His righteous will concerning us; until everything is
done that we can do; until we have withstood temptation at every point
even as our Saviour did; until the last battle is fought and the
victory won! Oh! I wish that every Christian would feel that he is a
sanctified Christian, and go to work as such. Oh! that every one could
feel that to-day I am a _pillar_ in the temple of our God; a _living
stone_ in the building; instead of sitting still and dreaming: "Can I
be sanctified, or when can I be sanctified." Oh! that _Christians_
would awake, and look around, and see what they can do for the Master.
The fields are all white for harvest. The Lord calls for laborers.
Christian brothers and sisters will you not awake; will you not have
faith in Christ; seeing that God hath perfected in him all that He
promised in Abraham, and all that He "set apart in Israel." The Lord
which made heaven and earth is thy keeper. "He will not suffer thy
foot to be moved; He that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold He
that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is thy
keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not
smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee
from all evil; He shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve
thy going out, and thy coming in from this time forth, and even
forever." (Psalms cxxi., 3-8). This God, O Christian, is thy God. He
that spreadeth out the heavens as a curtain; who keepeth the stars in
their courses; who causes the sun to show forth his light at morning,
and the moon at evening. He that keeps all nature in its proper course
year after year for so many ages, will He not keep thee through thy
life's short day and bring thee to heaven at last?

As a father pitieth His children so the Lord pitieth them that love
Him. The father will labor hard night and day, will make any
sacrifice, will deny himself any pleasure, will travel East, West,
North or South, and endure any hardships for his children's sake; and
should he have a dozen or more, yet his care over them will not
diminish, nor will he grow weary of his labors. "If ye then being evil
know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your
Heavenly Father give His holy spirit to them that ask Him." Let us
then trust a Father's love, and dwell safely under the shadow of his
wing and we need not fear!

"Though friends should all fail and foes all unite," we may go on
firmly trusting "The Lord will provide" trusting in His everlasting
arms, we shall pass safely through the wilderness of sin, and at last
get safely into our Father's house, where we shall rest from all care
and sing our sufferings o'er; where sin, and sorrow, pain and death,
never can enter. Being washed and cleansed in the blood of the Lamb,
we shall join our voices with one accord in singing blessing and honor
and wisdom and thanksgiving be unto the Lamb forever and forever.

Sanctification. BY MRS. R. S.

When God had finished His work of creation, He set apart the seventh
day, and sanctified it to Himself. In it no one was to do any work; it
was to be holy. The day in itself was like all other days; nothing
different; just as long, just as short; but He chose it to himself. He
chose the _whole_ of it, and all of it at _once_. He did not say, half
shall be yours and half mine; or, I will sanctify a part now and the
rest on next seventh day; but as soon as the day dawned, _it was
hallowed to the Lord_.

So in the work of redemption. Christ has finished His work; done all
there is to do. He has opened the way and made it passible, and now
invites all to come and find pardon; and sets the time when they
should come. He says, now is the accepted time; to-day is the day of
salvation; if ye hear my voice, harden not your hearts. The time is
fulfilled, the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand; repent ye and believe
the Gospel.

The day of redemption has dawned. Our King has fought the mighty
battle; has gained the glorious victory; has set up His Kingdom, and
now invites every one to become willing subjects. And all He requires
of us is simply to "repent and believe the gospel," which promises
that all things shall be added unto us. We may ask for it with
confidence and without fear, for it is our Father's good pleasure to
give us the Kingdom.

Then repentance toward God and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, are the
very groundwork of religion; and are more than all burnt offerings.
For He taketh no delight in sacrifices and offerings, but a contrite
heart is always acceptable with Him.

What is repentance but a sorrow for sin, and the forsaking of sin for
our love to God. Love to God, because He first loved us. God loves us.
He wills our salvation; and draws us to Him by the cords of love. We
feel a sorrow in our hearts; a weariness of sin, a dread of coming
vengeance; we begin to consider, and finally to ask, "What shall I do
to be saved." Then comes the promise: "Believe on the Lord Jesus
Christ and thou shalt be saved." What then is faith but believing in
Him who was sent; believing that he came to save; believing that He is
willing to save; believing that He will save; because the Father sent
Him for this purpose. Him hath the Father sanctified, and sent unto
the world to save the world. Believe that He is able to save; "thou
hast given Him power over all flesh, that He should give eternal life
to as many as thou hast given Him." (John xvii, 2.) Believe that He is
willing. "I lay down my life for the sheep." Then, we can go to God
pleading these promises, and God will _justify_ us through this faith,
and Christ will apply the _sanctifying blood_ that seals the covenant.
For, by His own blood He has entered, once for all, into the Holy
place, having obtained "eternal redemption for us."

And as every law and every precept was sprinkled with blood, so has
Christ sealed every promise and every covenant, with His own precious
blood. Then it surely follows, we cannot believe without being
justified; and we cannot be justified without being sanctified.
"Therefore being justified by faith we have peace with God, through
our Lord Jesus Christ," and this peace we can only have by being one
in Christ and abiding in Him. It is a peace the world cannot give nor
take away; a peace that subdues all evil passions, a peace that keeps
us patient and cheerful under difficulties; that keeps us humble and
truthful under trials and temptations. This is the grace that must
prevail in a distressing hour; and, filled with the sweet peace, we
can sing "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, etc.," and this
sanctifying grace makes us heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ,
who owns us for brethren and writes our names in the Book of Life.

But some may inquire: "How can we become perfect at once?" Do you see
that little babe? As soon as it is born it is a _perfect child_;
perfect in its father's love, perfect in its mother's tender care;
perfect as a child--not yet a perfect man, but all the _germ of the
man is there_. His limbs, hands and feet are perfect; of his body
there is no part lacking; and under the fostering care, and tender
nursing of his mother, the rigid but wholesome discipline of the
father, he must grow to perfect _manhood_,--and who can fix the time
when the child ceases and when the man begins. Or, see the branch in
the vine; as soon as it shoots its buds out of the vine, it is a
branch in the vine, and never ceases to be such until cut off. The
grain of mustard seed cast into the ground becomes a tree; but who can
tell when it ceases to be a plant. So is every one that is born of the
Spirit. "The wind bloweth where it listeth, thou hearest the sound
thereof and canst not tell whence it cometh or whither it goeth."

As soon as we believe we are perfect in Christ; and through the wise
and just discipline of God the father, and the loving and tender care
of Christ as our mother, being fed with the word, we grow in grace and
in the knowledge of the truth daily. We can no more exist in a
justified state and not be sanctified, than a child can be born
without a _natural mother_! _Ye must be_ _born again_,--born of the
water, and of the _spirit, and of the blood_; for that which is born
of the flesh is flesh! The natural mind is "enmity against God; it is
not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be." But if we are
in Christ, we are new creatures; "old things are done away, and all
things are become new. There is therefore now no condemnation to them
which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh but after the
spirit." Then

    "Christ the sanctifying blood applies,
    And makes us white as snow."

Sanctification. BY MRS. R. S.

A father, while making provision for his children, whether rich or
poor, will naturally expect love and obedience from them in return;
and an unkind or disobedient act in them must be a cause of great
sorrow to the father's heart, yet it is very seldom that he will go so
far as to turn the child away from his door.

So with our Heavenly Father. He has done all for us that can be done;
He has laid up an eternal Inheritance for us; He has prepared for us
"many mansions," and preserves for us a crown "that fadeth not away,"
and now requires of us humble obedience, full submission to His holy

He not only commands us to repent and believe, but to take up our
cross daily and follow Jesus.

If we wish to follow any one we must either see the person or the way
in which he has walked; let us then find the foot-prints of Jesus,
that we may walk therein and live.

While on earth, His whole life was spent in doing good; He was found
among the needy and poor, the afflicted and sorrowing, relieving their
afflictions, soothing their sorrow or quieting their fears. He was
never found among the giddy and gay, in the halls of revelry and
mirth. He was ever ready to weep with those who wept, and to rejoice
with those who rejoiced in the truth. Was there a bereaved mother or
disconsolate sister weeping over their dead? Christ was there to join
His tears and comfort them. Did they need any of His assistance? He
was ever ready to give it. Was any afflicted with sore disease? He was
ready to heal them; none ever came to Him in vain; He upbraided never,
and sent none empty away. He shunned none for their poverty and
favored none for their wealth. He was never presumptuous or proud.
When tempted by Satan to exert His power for His own benefit, He
refused, and silenced the tempter with the scathing rebuke: "Get thee
hence, Satan, for it is written, thou shall not tempt the Lord thy

Thus in all things our Saviour was bearing His cross; tempted by
Satan; hated and scorned by false friends; persecuted by enemies; and
finally, dying for the sins of the world.

This, dear Christian, was the path trodden by our Saviour. And
remember, He was a sanctified Saviour. "Him hath the Father
sanctified," etc.

He has not only left His foot-prints for us to follow, but He has also
left a rule for us to walk by, that, being in the light, we may walk
in the light.

The first commandment given is: "Thou shalt LOVE;" and the second
commandment is: "Thou shalt LOVE. LOVE is the fulfilling of the law."
This is the power that puts the whole Christian life in action. This
love must be toward God, with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength,
and to our neighbor as ourself. As impossible as this may appear to
the "carnal mind," yet to the child of God it is very possible. What
can be more possible than for a child to love his father and his own
brothers and sisters! Although, as children, they may not all agree in
everything, they will have different sentiments, different opinions,
and different ways of acting. They will still be united in their love
to their parents and their love to each other. They will not, by any
means, do anything to injure each other, but will do all they can to
assist each other; neither will they be first to expose one another's
faults, but will practice that "charity that covereth a multitude of

This is just what God requires of His children, viz.: to be _perfect
in our love to Him, and to have perfect charity, one with another_.
"Charity, that thinketh no evil, is not easily provoked, rejoices not
in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth." This is the love that helps
us to overcome difficulties, that enables us to bear each other's
burdens, that makes us feel each other's cares, and forgive each
other's faults; that prevents us from taking "up a reproach against
our neighbor, (Psalm xv., 3), and makes us one family in Christ."

This love purifies the heart and brings us close to God, making us
bold to take up, and firm to sustain the consecrated cross. But it is
impossible to attain to this perfect life without some trials and
sufferings. Our Saviour had His trials and temptations, so must we
have. He did not purchase our salvation and pass to Heaven "on flow'ry
beds of ease," neither can we.

He laid aside His glory and made Himself of no reputation, and took
upon Himself the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of
sinful flesh, and humbled Himself and became obedient unto death, even
the death of the cross; therefore, in following Him, we must, as saith
the apostle, lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily besets
us. We must strip ourselves of all un-godliness and worldly lusts, of
every appearance of evil, to the plucking out of the right eye or the
cutting off of the right hand. It is better to live maimed than to die
whole. We must also put on the whole armor of God which Christ alone
can give, as the poet grandly sings:

    "In the mountain of Zion, in Christ's armory
    There are sword, shield and breast-plate and helmet for thee."

Having put on this "whole armor," the command is to _stand_!

    "Stand then against your foes
    In close and firm array,
    Legions of wily friends oppose
    Throughout the evil day."

The world, the flesh, and Satan will oppose us. The flesh will
continually cry for ease, for comfort and for pleasure that is not
becoming. It will say the cross is too heavy, the way is too hard; the
life we are trying to live is too perfect, we never can attain to it,
our Saviour never intended it and no one ever did thus live. It will
appeal to our self-love, and tell us we are already better than our
neighbors and should not mingle with other people. It will appeal to
our pride and tell us the valley of blessing is too low, and those
that walk therein are far beneath us, and in our pride we may say of
them: "Stand thou there, for I am holier than thou;" or it may appeal
to our malice and say, your brethren and friends speak evil of you and
do not believe you; and all this can only be overcome by that charity
which is the "bond of perfection." These are some of the battles we
have to fight, and we can only fight successfully clad in the armor of

The world will display all its charms, cause all its glory to pass
before us. It will show its mines of gold, its mountains of iron, its
halls of learning, its ships of commerce. It will introduce us to its
halls of pleasure and its walks of recreation, but with an eye fixed
on the glory of the eternal world, the glories of this must fade and
become as nothing. Its gold becomes as dross and its pleasures less
than the morning dew.

We have another dreaded foe, the Arch Fiend himself; who comes to us
with all his power and all his rage. We have not only to contend with
flesh and blood, but with principalities and powers, who will employ
every means at their command to retard our progress. But we must

    "---- meet the sons of night
    And mock their vain design."

We must conquer them all through the blood of Christ and the sign of
the Cross! In this alone can we conquer all our foes, this alone can
help us to walk pleasantly in the valley of humiliation. It is only
with the Cross of Christ on our shoulders and the love of God shed
abroad in our hearts that we can walk the heavenly road.

But with this love we can say always: "Father, Thy will be done." In
sickness or health, adversity or prosperity, in afflictions and all
trials we can possess our souls in patience. This is the love that
removes mountains, that makes enemies friends, and takes the _beam_
from our own eye, so that we may see the mote in our brother's eye,
and enable us to help each other on the way.

If a brother is in need, or a sister in distress, or a mother
bereaved, we are ready to lend a helping hand or give a word of
consolation, thus fulfilling the law of Christ.

Love must then pervade the soul, and unite us to Christ and to each
other, as the sap pervades the vine and the branches, uniting them
together and causing them to produce fruit. The branch cannot bear
fruit of itself: no more can we separate from Christ; but if we abide
in Him, we shall bring forth much fruit. "If ye abide in me and my
word in you, ye shall ask whatsoever ye will, and it shall be done
unto you."

Let us ask daily for grace to keep us in this perfect way, "ask and ye
shall receive." We need a constant daily supply of the bread of life,
that feeds the soul and keeps it alive in Christ. Let us go daily to
our Father's table, that we may partake of the dainties of Heaven and
grow in grace and the knowledge of the truth.

    "That having all things done,
      And all our conflicts passed,
    We may o'ercome through faith alone,
      And stand entire at last."

Story originally written for her little Grandsons, James and Charley.

     Dear Jim and Charley:

     Here is one of my stories for little folks. It is about a
     giant, that lives about here, and in fact I guess he lives in a
     great many places. He is a monstrous big fellow, a great deal
     larger than the King of Og, whose bed it was said was twelve
     feet long and eight feet broad. He is bigger than Goliath whom
     David killed, in fact larger than any giant you ever heard of.
     And if you ever meet with this big fellow, I hope _you_ will
     kill _him_, rather than become his subjects. For he is a king,
     or rather a despotic emperor; he holds complete control over
     his subjects and compels them to do whatever he wishes. He is
     always peering around, knocking at people's doors, and peeping
     into people's houses, to see if he can get any one to serve
     him. In fact sometimes he walks right boldly into _my_ house
     and compels _me_ to serve him. He is a wonderful fellow and I
     think he must be very old, and he is very ugly; he is
     blear-eyed and snub-nosed, and everything else that is ugly,
     and he makes people do ugly things. He makes men and women
     strut about and think they are somebody--why, I have heard of
     so many bad things he has caused people to do, that I hardly
     know what to tell you first. He has made nation go to war with
     nation, he makes men fight and kill each other, and many years
     ago he made an old king dress himself all up in purple robes,
     and sit upon his throne, and declare he was God. He made
     Joseph's brethren sell Joseph down into Egypt when he was a
     little boy. And Absalom, David's son, to pursue after his
     father to kill him, and he caused the wicked Jews to crucify
     our blessed Saviour and kill him.

     Oh, he has done so many bad things, and is still doing bad; for
     he makes little boys and girls do bad. I must tell you
     something he makes them do; he makes little boys run away from
     their mother and tell lies and smoke segars and do a great many
     bad things; he makes little girls primp themselves up and think
     they are young ladies, and must not help their mothers any
     more; he makes children quarrel and fight and call names to get
     advantage of each other; he makes a little boy that I know call
     his little playmate----. And now boys what do you think of my
     giant, old and ugly and every way bad? Do you think you will be
     his subjects, or will you kill him when you meet him, as David
     did Goliath with a sling and stone? I should like to hear you
     guess his name, but as you are so far away I shall have to tell
     you; his name is "GIANT SELF." See what a great big fellow he
     is and what bad things he can make you do. Now if you don't
     want to be his subjects, I will tell you what you must do. When
     you meet him, for I know you will meet him, you must take the
     sling of faith and the stone of prayer and kill him. That is,
     when you feel any selfish thoughts coming into your heart you
     must ask your Heavenly Father to take them all away, and keep
     you from pleasing Giant Self, and make you good boys, help you
     to grow up good men, and ever keep you in His care----

     Your grandma prays.

The little scraps of poetry which follow, have lain among my mother's
papers for over thirty years. I do not think they were ever shown to
any of her most intimate friends. They were written mostly in 1846,
when my mother was about twenty-six years of age, and were simple
heart effusions, never intended for public eye.

Even those addressed to particular persons I do not think were ever
presented; and my mother, though fond of the poets, seems never to
have thought herself gifted to write poetry. I selected the few found
in these pages from an old scrap-book, and I may say I regard these as
the best, and perhaps the only ones adapted to public reading, found
in the meagre collection. I make no corrections in them.

    T. G. S.


Thoughts suggested by the Return of Spring.

    Once more I hail the happy spring
      Tho' sadness to my heart it brings,
    It brings to mind the seasons past
      When sporting in the joys of youth
    I sallied forth to meet the spring
      And hear the birds so sweetly sing.

    But ah, those days are past and gone
      Those happy days forever flown
    And now, through weariness and care
      I wander on all through the year
    My youthful friends are fled and gone
      And not a friend for me remains
    I feel deserted and unknown
      A stranger in this world alone--

    No one with me to sympathise
      Or share with me my cares or joys
    When sore afflictions rack my frame
      And not one hope for me remains
    Even then forsaken and alone
      I vent my sighs and make my moan
    And tho, I greet the happy spring
      Yet sadness to my heart it brings.

The Inscription to this is simply "Written after a Time of

    I love the Lord, my strength, my tower,
      The Lord my rock and fortress is,
    My God my strength in whom I trust,
      My buckler and my hope of bliss.

    The Lord is worthy to be praised,
      He saves me from my enemies;
    Sorrow and death compass'd me round,
      Death and the grave made me afraid.

    I called upon the Lord and cried:--
      My God, he heard my feeble voice,
    Out of His temple. Lo! He came
      And bade my broken heart rejoice.

    The earth shall tremble at His word,
      The hills shall fly at His command.
    He bows the heavens as their Lord
      And rides upon a Cherrub's wings.

    He will deliver me from sin,
      And set my soul at liberty,
    He will reward my righteousness,
      If from my God I do not stray.

To a Sister on her Birthday.

    Your birthday my sweet sister,
    What shall my off'ring be,
    I've no rich gifts or treasures
    I can present to thee.

    But Oh! my sweetest sister,
    I raise a fervent prayer,
    For all thy future welfare
    While thou may'st sojourn here.

    May many happy birthdays
    Roll o'er thy peaceful head,
    In good old age may you lay down
    Your life among the dead.

    And may your soul ascend to God
    And reign with Him on high,
    And praise Him in that bright abode,
    Where pleasures never die.

To a Minister on his Return after a long Absence.

    Dear Shepherd you've been wand'ring
      So long and far away
    Your sheep become disconsolate,
      Therefore have gone astray.
    Not so, the Mighty Shepherd,
      He ne'er forsakes His sheep,
    He leads them forth in pasture,
      So rich, so green, so sweet;
    He leads them to the fountains,
      Along the crystal stream--
    They feed beside the mountains,
      Who put their trust in Him.

Transcriber's Note: Archaic spellings and punctuation have been

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