The Life And Testimony Of Elizabeth Williams

Gospel Standard 1869:

“Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?”—Zech. 3:2

Some account of the Lord’s sovereign dealings with Elizabeth Williams, who died in faith, Jan. 21, 1868, after eight years’ illness, aged 52 years.

Mr. Huntington, in a letter to a spiritual friend, who before he was born again of the Spirit had, by the Lord’s mercy, been singularly preserved from outward evil, thus writes: “My friend, thou hast been saved from a more refined wickedness.” Never were truer words, or more descriptive of Elizabeth Williams, than those of this immortal and faithful servant of Christ. Infirmities and afflictions of body and soul have delayed this humble account of one so dearly loved both in nature and grace. With her own words, “Let Jesus have all the glory,” and a secret cry to God the Spirit that he would, with his remembering power, dictate every word, he desires to cast this humble mite into the treasury of God, hoping it may be an arrow carried by the mighty power of God the Spirit into the conscience of some sinner or sinners dead in open or a more refined wickedness, or what is a thousand times more delusive, wrapped in the double shroud of a godless profession.

“I have walked this earth full fifty years without the saving knowledge of myself or God.” Such were the words of the subject of this Obituary to the writer of these lines. Yet those who intimately knew her have often said what an excellent wife and mother she was. Indeed, in these points, though only natural, she might have shamed some of the tinkling daughters of professing churches. Her natural character was singularly honest and sincere, united with a special reserve, and yet, under all this amiability, existed the most desperate enmity even against the very profession of the doctrines of sovereign grace. I have seen her shed many tears when denouncing them in the most bitter language. How true might the words of the great Master have been applied to her: “Yet lackest thou one thing.” But O the tremendous consequence of lacking this one thing which she so powerfully felt when she was once truly awakened without it, an ever-ending hell; with it, an ever-ending heaven. It may appear strange that, while inwardly feeling the most desperate rebellion and enmity against the sovereign truth of God, and often displaying it outwardly, that she should so many times have gone to hear that Spirit-taught minister of God, the late Dr. Cole, and also Mr. Philpot, whose writings in after years, when her soul was quickened unto life, were, next to God’s word, her daily companion; for, as she expressed it herself, he searched her through and through. O how true is it found in the experience of all God’s people that the Lord is the sovereign disposer of spiritual life! Here was one who had heard many powerful sermons from three of God’s true ministers, Mr. Cole, Mr. Philpot, and Mr. Wigmore. Her case, as well as the case of every living soul, gives the lie, and stamps death upon all that huge Babel of free-will which exists and reigns in every unquickened soul, and in none more delusively than in the presumptuous, free-will Calvinism of the day from a few natural convictions. Thousands get rid of their so-called burden without one intimation of mercy, or without waiting with unspeakable hungerings and thirstings for the manifestation of a precious Redeemer. God’s inflexible, tremendously holy law never having been in any measure applied, thousands rush into a fleshly assurance, and take with unhallowed hands the precious doctrines of grace, knowing nothing of the power and sanctifying effects when revealed in the soul by the power of the Holy Ghost. Free-will in the heart, glued fast to Sinai, exists in many a flaming professor who has Balaam’s mysteries in his head and on his tongue. It was truly marvellous, when my beloved one was awakened from her long sleep of death, how terribly she dreaded this fleshly confidence; and the Lord, as will be seen by the following pages, overruled it for her soul’s good. But I shall at once come to that never-to-be-forgotten moment, a shall at once come to that never-to-be-forgotten moment, a moment fixed in the everlasting love of God. Israel’s deliverance from the land of Egypt, and that most wondrous deliverance from the avenging sword of the destroying angel, were most clearly fulfilled in her experience, standing out, as it were, in bold relief from the soul’s intermediate agonies, and those innumerable changes which sometimes sink the soul, as it were, to the very borders of despair, beautifully expressed by Mr. Hart:

“Ever sinking, yet to swim.”

Six years of constant illness bring us to that fixed time when this jewel which had so long lain among the pots was to be rescued as a trophy for the Redeemer’s crown.

I shall now give the account of this memorable moment in her own words: “I had the New Testament on my bed, as I often had; not from any real desire or love to read it, but merely to satisfy my natural conscience. I took it up, as we wickedly call it, ‘by accident,’ and I opened it on these words: ‘We know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.’ (2 Cor. 5:1.) Immediately followed these words a power which I can never fully express, and in the twinkling of an eye I saw, as it were, a long roll, and my secret sins, long buried from my very childhood till that moment, rushed into my soul, and I felt certain, if I died in that state, my house would be in the pit of endless woe.” Now these were the words not spoken to me at the time, for so terrible were the agonies of her soul that all I could hear between her sighs and sad moaning were these words: “O father, I lost shall be. Yes, yes,” over and over again, “I shall be in hell.” So dreadful were her cries and tears that one of her dear children, a most loving boy to his mother throughout her illness, was greatly alarmed. Every now and then she would use the most debasing language of herself, telling me over and over again what a self-righteous deceived creature she had been. To all human appearance it appeared impossible in her extreme bodily weakness but that she must die under her soul agonies. Indeed, every one who saw her thought her last hour near. But he who had brought her to his judgment-bar had glorious purposes of mercy to be revealed in her soul ere she left this world. Two days and three nights did this fearful storm continue without the least abatement. O what an eternal difference between the curse of the law in its spirituality revealed in the conscience, demanding perfect obedience and merely looking at it as revealed in the Bible. On the third day, when I sat by her bed expecting every moment her decease, I heard her whisper softly, “Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” I said to her, ”Mother, that’s for you; the Lord has sent it to you.” But in a moment she replied, “Not for me; not for me.” I said, “Yes, dear mother, I believe they are for you.” She then said, “O father, what an out-of-the-way sinner I have been.” Never shall I forget the effect in my soul when I heard those words. It was like solemn music; for now it appeared to me that here was the first answer to those sighs, groans, and broken petitions which for more than twenty years amid my own soul troubles, wretched backslidings, fearful temptations, and sometimes a little consolation, with many years of loving correction, amid innumerable changes crowned with an unlocked for, superabounding blessing in Gower Street Chapel, at the very moment when I had the strongest temptation to give all up. Amid all these changes in my own soul I felt continual promptings to prayer even in business hours. Many such a cry as this has gone up inwardly: “Lord, quicken her from death. O Lord, whatever thou deniest her, O let her be born again. O Lord, give her life in thy dear Son.” Over and over again would Satan and wretched unbelief taunt me like this: “What’s the use of praying? You can’t prevail for yourself, and what’s the use of asking for her?” But though there was not the least appearance of life for more than twenty years, a remark which Mr. Philpot once dropped in one of his sermons was made by the Lord, I may say times without number, when it seemed I must give it up, like a spur still to cry on, and I believe the Holy Ghost dropped it into Mr. P.’S heart, and as he dropped it from his lips into mine, and used it in many a hard battle as his sword to foil Satan. The text Mr. P. preached from was this: “Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver thee and thou shalt glorify me.” In the course of his sermon Mr. P. dropped this remark: “The Lord does not say when, nor does he say how; but he does say, ‘I will deliver thee, so cry on.'” Now I can declare before the Lord this simple remark was made by the Spirit most powerfully to confirm this promise which Satan has hundreds of times tried to snatch from me; but, glory to the Lord, he could never quite do it; and now sweetly the Lord fulfilled his own promise and blessedly confirmed his dear servant’s word, as I have no doubt he has in thousands of other cases, and here were the blessed fruits. I must rapidly pass over many minor circumstances of this eventful two years, hoping that the Lord the Spirit will revive powerfully what he at times was graciously pleased to show me of the saving work in her soul, and the effects of it in her short life and death. After this solemn application of God’s holy law and a faint hope raised up, O how visible were the effects! Many a time before this wondrous moment have I heard her say (and it used to pierce me to the heart), “What have I done that I should be afflicted thus?” and many other sad words showing the dreadful rebellion of her carnal mind; but now it was a far different language. Once she said, “If there’s a double hell I shall be sure to be there,” and sometimes when her beloved little girl heard her mother on her sick bed crying and bemoaning her sad state, she would, poor child, try to comfort her mother by saying, “You are a good mother, you are a good mother.” She would over and over again say to her, “O, my poor child, if you knew, if you knew what is here,” pressing her hand to her heart. She had been exceedingly fond of what is called light reading; but from the very moment this great change took place never but once did I know her take such a book. Well might it be said of her, “Old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” And though she herself could never perceive this fully till the day of her espousals came, it was most clearly manifest to God’s people. There was no longer the formal prayer, but, like one drowning in a storm, it was, almost continually night and day, short but agonising cries. For as I was constantly with her, and myself having, through the Lord’s wondrous grace past through these bitter waters of judgment, she could pour into my bosom some of her terrible feelings. Sometimes she would say, “O father, you don’t know, you don’t know, or you would never try to comfort me. Go away, go away, and don’t speak to me again.” Then she would call me back with the most passionate grief, and say to me, “Pray, pray, for it’s no use for me to pray.” It was marvellous the abiding sense she had of the unfathomable depravity of her nature. I have known her get up from her chair when quite alone with me and wring her hands together and cry out, “O father, I am dying, and no Saviour for me.” There were four features, most plain evidences that she was born again, and yet till the Lord came and revealed himself in such a powerful way as her deliverer only about a month before her death, she could only grasp them like a drowning man. These four evidences were unknown to herself as being faith and its fruits, yet it was so, and a firm case. 1. She was as sure that living and dying without a revelation of a precious Saviour personally to her by the Holy Spirit she must for ever perish. 2. Then there was such a spirit of continual broken-heart breathings, sighs, groans, and weepings after a manifested Jesus. Then 3. The fear of God was most conspicuous in her deep abhorrence of all those things she once so much admired and loved. The Lord seemed to have given her a special insight into the vain confidence of this presumptuous day. There was such a holy jealousy lest she should take one step without the Lord’s persuading power. And 4, God’s ministers and people that she once proudly contemned, their persons and writings were loved with an intensity impossible to describe in words. I have known her under fainting feelings from sheer weakness have God’s word and Mr. P.’s sermons on her bed, and search them with far deeper interest than a miser clasps his gold. She would read them, and then over and over again I have heard her say, “O father, it searches me through and through;” and then, because she had not yet received the great mercies and sweet revelations which Mr. P. sometimes described in his printed sermons, she would drop them almost in despair; but now and then, when reading those dark paths, those fearful scenes, and those fiery temptations described in them, she would say, “He seems as if he would ransack my very heart.” I have sometimes tried to put in a word to comfort her, but she would say, “No, father, no; you are deceived in me.” Then she would take up the sermons again and say, “I have never had this; I have never had this.” From the very moment when the Lord so suddenly brought her to his judgment-bar, nothing did she seem so much to dread as her being deceived. That taking for granted, presuming free-will Calvinism of the day she dreaded beyond everything. O how many times I have heard her say, “Life, life! O if I knew I had life.” With her it was realities. How many a hard battle I have seen her have with Satan and her unbelieving heart for two precious promises by which the Lord at two separate times sweetly raised up a hope and a “who can tell?” I have heard her cry mightily to God not to allow them to be snatched away from her. These were the two precious promises: “I will not leave you comfortless;” “At even time it shall be light.” She held these promises like a drowning man. She told me she never had had the least fear of death as to the consequences after death; but she said that within an hour after the Lord had so powerfully awaked her from her long sleep of self-righteousness, not only did the mortal agony of death come upon her, but what was a million times worse, the eternal consequences of death; and after she had received mercy, she told me that she kept looking to the clock, feeling at such an hour “I shall die and be lost.” With very little intermission these fears more or less continued, till about one month before her death. Once this sweet word made a short calm in her soul: “God is faithful.” At another time, when reading God’s word, she said, “Ah, perhaps this is for me: ‘And neither pray I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on me through their word.'” Once when reading in the “Gospel Magazine” one of the editor’s family readings headed with this Scripture: “All my desire is before thee, and my groaning is not hid from thee.” The paper on this Scripture the Lord made a great blessing to her. She often said to me, “I feel I have never really prayed;” but after reading that article, she sat silent for a considerable time, and then said “Mr. Doudney makes me feel as if I had really prayed; I will read it to you again; it seems as if this was all written out of my heart.” It greatly strengthened her, and for a little time her hope seemed brightened; but shortly after this a fearful storm came down upon her, and this temptation took very fast hold, that the Lord would make her an open spectacle, when she came to her last hour, as a hypocrite. Now it seemed as if all her little hopes were swept away. Well do I remember with what violence she caught hold of my arm, and while her tears flowed fast she kept saying, “What a terrible death will mine be; what will the children say!” Then she would burst out again into a violent fit of weeping. O what trying days were those to me, not only at this time, but the greater part of these mournful days, for the tremendous value of her soul was so powerfully felt by me; for I remembered the value of my own, and very fearful I was lest I should say anything to induce any persuasion but what God himself wrought; but all this was most painful to my natural affection. Just before this she had read a remark of Mrs. Doudney to her husband, when they were conversing together on death, and Mrs. D. replied to her husband in the following manner. I do not remember the exact words, but I know the substance of it was this: “When we come to our last hour you may depend it will be very different from what we anticipate.” She often named these words to me, and when this fearful temptation was upon her, I tried to give her a little hope by saying to her, no doubt Mrs. Doudney had many dark seasons and fears of death, but the Lord gave her a good end; and I also said, “Depend on it, dear mother, you will have that sweet promise richly fulfilled when you come there: ‘Thy shoes shall be iron and brass; and as thy day thy strength shall be.”’ But she answered, “I have no comfort.” I said, “Have you forgotten, dear mother, those sweet promises which you told me of, and the light cast upon your path by Mr. P.’s sermons?” “Yes,” she said, “but it’s all gone, all gone, and I am dying.” She generally ended her mourning times with those words, “I am dying!” and O what did these words convey! Well might the apostle say, “The work of faith, the patience of hope, and the labour of love;” for it was truly a fighting time in my own soul. The tempter set hard upon me, working on my wretched unbelief that the end would be as she feared. But the Lord gave mo a sweet glance from those words: “Thou shalt see greater things than these.”

But I must come to that glorious day, that day so often spoken of by the prophets, when the Lord shall suddenly come to his temple. O that wondrous day! May every living soul who reads those lines have a fresh anointing by the Lord, the Spirit of the glory of that day in their own souls, and a solemn remembrance, too, of that mournful day when the Lord said in substance, if not in words, “Lazarus, come forth.” But before I proceed I must show the special blessing which many of God’s great hearts are made to the fearing ones of God’s family. Mr. Link, deacon at Gower Street, was made singularly useful to my beloved wife, as I have named before. She was naturally of a most reserved character, and after her new birth it was doubly so, for nothing she detested so much as hypocrisy. To show how retiring she was, never did I hear till the very day before her death (though I had long suspected it) how many times she had gone to a secret place to pour out her burdened soul to the Lord. All my children being out, she scarcely ever had any one with her but myself; and when Mr. Link first came she would rarely speak; but after he was gone, she would say, “Mr. Link comes down to my feelings. If I am lost, still I know he will be saved.” Many times did Mr. Link visit her, and she gathered a little comfort from his godly prayers, and often said to me. “I wish Mr. Link would come again.” The Lord made him a nursing- father to her, for being kept so very short of comfort, and having: to pass the darkest paths alone, she cherished the least crumb, provided it was real. It may truly be said that up to this time, with little gleams of hope, her life was like the prophet’s roll, “within and without lamentation and mourning and woe;” but though long delayed, his chariot wheels were fast approaching, silently but sensibly near at hand. As near as possible about two months before her death, she had been sitting up, as was often the case with her, in her bed silently crying to the Lord. I had fallen asleep, when she suddenly awoke me with these joyful words,”O father, he is come, he is come!”repeating several times over, “His banner over me is love.” “The time of the singing of birds is come.” O what a change was here! I said, “Have you had those words, mother, come from the Lord?” She hesitated a few moments, and then said, “Yes, yes; they came with such power; Satan is a liar.” And then she broke out in these words, “Yes, yes, he is come. He is come. He loves me. O precious Jesus!” Then she said, “The Breaker is gone before me.” And she made me get out of bed and find that hymn in Gadsby’s collection, which she read in a most joyful tone of voice, often saying to me, “Praise him, dear father, try to praise him.” There was such a sweet calm in her voice, so different from its usually mournful tone that I thought at first it was a full deliverance, but I found that promise was still to be more richly fulfilled: “Thou shalt see greater things than these.” A short time after this the fear of death returned; but not the dreadful fear of being lost that she formerly had. It was more the fear of the mortal agony of death, lest she should dishonour the Lord by any expression of rebellious murmuring. She appeared to be in prayer for some time, when all at once she said to me, “He was heard in that he feared.” I said, “Mother, have you had that word given you?” She said, “Yes, yes; with power.” Never shall I forget the solemn unction and power with which her answer filled my soul. I felt that she was one with Jesus, suffering with him. O what a holy solemnity there is thus to be admitted, as she was, into that most sacred place, Gethsemane. Shortly after she said, “Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.'” She answered as if to herself, “Shall I dwell there? Yes, yes.” she said, “for ever! for ever!” twice over. From this time the day-star had evidently risen in her heart, for the horror and fear of hell had departed; and O what a change, too, in her manner of receiving anything. That murmuring, rebellious spirit was almost entirely taken away and she seemed more like a little child. Well might Mr. Hart say, “Law and terrors do but harden.” Yes, yes, mercy it is that melts the rocky heart. I said once or twice, “Mother, God is faithful; do you remember that promise?” It is now being fulfilled through the Lord’s great goodness to me. Although blind, he enabled me to wait on her night and day. I repeatedly asked her to have a nurse, but she constantly refused, saying, “I want no one but you; you understand me.” And now what a change I found in waiting on her. The smallest thing I gave her, even a drop of water, before she took it she would praise God as if it were a costly gift, and often asked me to forgive her for the sharp words she had spoken in past days, sometimes bemoaning “the rebellious wretch,” as she expressed it, that she had been, and, as she said, even now sometimes inwardly felt. But the change was perceived by all who saw her; and it was during this time that she had such a deep sense of God’s goodness in his providential dealings to her. She often said, “Eight years have I been ill, and if I had the grace and gift of Mr. Huntington, I could write another “Bank of Faith.” She greatly loved his memory. Though despised of men, he was beloved of his God. But the time was near at hand when even the day-star was to give place to the glorious Sun of righteousness, and the works of the devil to be destroyed by the manifestation of the great Redeemer. O memorable moment! As Israel kept the Passover and sprinkling of blood, so may the Lord the Spirit ever keep in my soul a sacred remembrance of this never-to-be-forgotten moment; and O that it were possible to bring together every Fearing-one, Little-faith, and Much-afraid, to hear what the Lord can do! Here is one of themselves, and the dear Redeemer came where she was. For many days before this glorious moment she was unusually silent, but I could often hear her wrestling with God alone; and he gave her a full answer. Indeed, I was sitting by her side quite alone, when she rose up with such wonderful energy, and exclaimed in the most joyful tone, ”Father, he is come; he is come. The mountain of mv sins are lost in the sea of Christ’s blood.” Then she said, “If ye have faith as a grain of mustard-seed, ye shall say to this mountain, Be ye cast into the sea. I have faith to believe my sins are cast into the sea forever for ever!” she kept repeating. Although in the last stage of consumption, for a short time one would have thought her really well. The feeling that filled my heart can never be fully described. Now, indeed, love had burst into a flame, and a sweet feeling of adoring gratitude to that gracious Lord who had now answered those wrestlings which he had enabled me, in spite of all opposition, to put up for more than twenty years. Praise was now the theme of her heart, and a few hours after she said to me, “Had I ten thousand tongues, I never could express what the Lord Jesus has done for my soul.” No doubt this was the anointing for her burial; for the final Victory was near at hand; death in her conscience was now for ever destroyed by the dear Redeemer; and as she had been so long kept under the fire and smoke of Sinai, and been kept so short of comfort, and the powers of darkness were allowed so fiercely to assault her, I have often since thought that the Lord saw she needed the aboundings of his love, and he richly gave it her. It was most wonderful the solid peace she now possessed. It appeared to me that just as a father takes his darling child into his arms, and soothes it with his caresses, so did the Lord take her up in his arms of everlasting love; and it was at this time she told me she wanted no book or minister to tell her that the doctrines of sovereign grace were true, for the Lord had taught her their power and blessed truth. It was a noble testimony from one who had once been their bitter opponent. O that when I come to my last hour I may have the presence of the dear Lord! Then shall I have, in some measure, the same sweet peace. For the last three weeks of her life it was not a triumph, but the most perfect, childlike peace I ever witnessed in death. Blessedly, blessedly fulfilled was that promise, “I will not leave you comfortless.” O no. Now was the time that she needed the shoes of iron and brass. God’s everlasting choice of her was now fully made manifest. The fear of death, the terrors of hell, had all vanished at the breath of his mouth, and the brightness of his coming. 

On the Thursday before her death, as she died on the Tuesday, she called me to her bedside, and said, “Don’t be alarmed at what I am going to tell you. I am dying much nearer than you suppose. Now, dear father, listen. After death, there is often much confusion. You are blind, and the children will not be able to see to things. Open that drawer; I will tell you what to take out. Let the nurse have them.” I name this to show the perfect composure with which she viewed death. Until the Lord manifested mercy to her, she never would even hear of it. But O how different now! On the Friday she said: “‘Tis very near. I am sure of it from the precious promises I have just had. Yes, yes,” she said, “There shall be no more pain.” He has given me the sweet words, “The year of my Redeemed is come.” I will give thee to eat of the hidden manna.'” How suitable were the precious promises at such a moment! Saturday morning she said to me, “I have had these words continually sounding nearly all night, ‘Brethren, pray for us.’ She had twice said to me during this month, “Gower Street is a blessed place. The Lord’s real people are there. Mr. Cole used to say, ‘It is a Church within a church;’ and so it is,” she said. To these she ever felt a sweet union. She then said to me, “Cannot you send to Mr. Link? and, if the minister feels disposed, perhaps he will remember me before the Lord.” I did send to Mr. Link, and I heard that Dr. Marston offered up a prayer for her with much unction and feeling.

But the solemn hour was now near at hand when this trophy of grace was to leave behind her a most blessed testimony to the love and faithfulness of a Triune Jehovah. Monday morning she was most blessedly supported to meet a most trying day, and this word came to her, as she said, with great power, “Thy King cometh.” And truly his chariot of love was fast approaching. Her eldest son from Sheffield came quite unexpectedly. Here was another instance of the Lord’s kindness both to him and his mother; for as he was hesitating about coming, a person came up to him and asked him to read a telegram, which ran thus: “Your mother is dying. Come at once.” It had such an effect upon her son, that he came immediately. I had forgotten to name that continually, when myself and children knelt round her bed during the last three weeks, she wished constantly to have read the two following hymns: “What is love?” and, “What object’s this that meets my sight.” and I have heard her in the night dwelling upon them with sacred pleasure. At four o’clock on Monday, two sisters came also quite unexpectedly, and now it was that the Lord gave her such grace and strength to deliver a testimony rarely witnessed even at the deathbed of a real Christian. No sooner had her sisters entered her rooms than she merely held out her hand, and, to their astonishment, in a powerful tone of voice, asked them to attend to her. She then said, “I lived fifty years without any saving knowledge of God or myself.” She then told them of the solemn manner in which the Lord had awakened her on her sick bed; and O how powerfully she spoke of judgment and death! She went on to tell them of her soul’s agonies, temptations, fears of death, and forebodings of judgment, pointed to the secret place, and said to them, “There I used to go, unknown to any one, and cry to the Lord to have mercy on me.” Then she told them of the little hope which the Lord gave her, and never shall I forget when she came to that part where the mountain of her sins were lost in the sea of Christ’s most precious blood. Never shall I forget the praise which burst from her grateful heart. As she paused for a moment, I said to her, “Mother, in a few hours you will place a bright crown on his glorious head.” She answered directly twice, in the most animated manner, “That I will; that I will.” And her sisters told me afterwards that she waved her hand, as if in triumph. She had spoken to her sisters without interruption for full twenty minutes. She waited two or three minutes, and then in a most solemn voice, she said, “Ye must be born again.” The Lord only knows what, in days to come, may be the effects of their sister’s dying testimony. Mr. Link came in immediately after. He saw plainly that her end was very near. He was always a welcome messenger to her. She shook him cordially by the hand, and said at once, “There shall be no more pain,” He said, “You will soon be there;” and she calmly said, “Yes,” I asked her if Mr. Link should try to offer prayer, and she told him to come near her, and he offered a very fervent, childlike prayer, breathing forth many godly petitions for her. As he was about to leave her, she said to him, ‘A cup of cold water given for the Lord’s sake shall not lose its reward; and you, Mr. Link, shall not lose yours,’ no doubt alluding to his many deeds of love in which he had been made so useful to her; and I am sure he will be blessed, not for, but in those deeds of love.

About seven o’clock her children were all round her bed, and she spoke in the most faithful and loving manner to her two eldest sons. After all had left her, except myself, she said once, “Praise him;” and lay till about one o’clock, it appeared to me, in prayer. About that hour she appeared rather restless. In a moment, these words fell with much power into my soul: “He is a Rock; his work is perfect.” She pressed my arm with the greatest energy, and said, in an exulting tone, “I have found him so.” One of her beloved sons, who had been like a nurse to her in her illness, was by her side, when she gently opened her eyes, gazed on him for a moment, and the days of her mourning were for ever ended. As I stood by her a moment after death, these words fell with solemn sweetness on my spirit: “Open ye the gates that the righteous nation which keepeth the truth may enter in;” and then followed, “shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” The feeling that filled my soul was this: If all the ransomed in heaven, and all the redeemed in earth were to unite in one song, O how poor it seemed to me would be the praise to my beloved one when she opened her eyes in heaven, and gazed on his glorious face.

Almost immediately after the Lord granted her that signal deliverance by the Holy Ghost powerfully applying those precious words: “If ye have faith as a grain of mustard-seed, ye shall say to this mountain, Be ye cast into the sea,” she said, “Father, Psalm 23 is mine. The Lord has made me read it as my own.” She seemed to have every word not only by heart, but in her heart. I heard her pondering and musing over it to herself, and many times did I catch those words: “I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” “Yes, yes, for ever, for ever,” she would repeat to herself, evidently anticipating the glorious reality in store for her. She often said, “No poor lunatic was half so mad as she had been.” And I am quite sure that he who writes this was the maddest of all; for mine was a case I have often thought like the child that was coming to the Lord, the devil throwing him down. Not one of his disciples could heal him; but what they could not do their Master could and did. O that my heart, lip, and life may be his, and his alone, till my dying hour.

May the Lord powerfully strengthen you in soul and body. He has given you a deep place in many a saved sinner’s heart.

J. W.