The Life And Testimony Of Susannah Kilham

Gospel Standard 1854:

An Outline Of The Life, Experience, And Death Of The Late Mrs. Susannah Kilham, Of Leicester, By Her Surviving Partner In Life.

Mrs. K. was born at Hales Hall, a farm-house, in the parish of Loddon, Norfolk. Her father occupied that farm above 30 years, and was, during that period, the churchwarden of the parish. He had a large family, who were all brought up morally, and were regular in their attendance at the parish church, which was two miles distant from the house. Mrs. K. had early a contemplative mind, and, dwelling in the country, meditated much on the works of creation and providence, read her Bible much, as she had been taught by her parents, and walked very circumspectly, but in her own righteousness. She was zealously attached to the Church, as was her father, and a thought of dissenting from it never crossed her mind.

It pleased God to work graciously on her mind in the following manner. Her mother dying, she became housekeeper to her father; and the domestic arrangements of the household, with the care and partially the education of the younger members of the family, devolved on her. One day a hawker called at the house with china, earthenware, &c. He had, amongst other things, a tea service which took her fancy; she inquired the price, then went to her father, and requested him to purchase it. He came to the door with her and looked at it, but thought the price too high; so he told her he would only give a certain sum for it, which he named, and went away again. She still felt desirous to purchase it, but the man re- fused to take the price her father had named He made an abatement from his first demand, but required a few shillings more than her father had said he would give. She resolved to buy it, and to pay the difference herself. She went to her father again, and told .him the man had agreed to take the price he had named. He gave her the money, and she added the few shillings required from her own money. She took the tea service, and began to arrange it in the china closet, and felt much pleased with it; but as she was busy arranging it on the shelves of the closet, a conviction seized her mind that she had told a falsehood, that she had deceived her father, a thing she remembered never to have done before; for from childhood she had always shown a strict, scrupulous regard to truth. In any doubtful case, her companions or her parents would always take her word with unhesitating confidence, she being never known to have recourse to falsehood to excuse herself from any blame; nor could any entreaties, or persuasions of her companions or sisters, prevail on her to disguise the truth at any time, when they had jointly been guilty of any conduct for which they might fear cor- rection. But now she had been guilty of falsehood and deception, and that to her father, who was a kind parent, one to whom she was ever an affectionate and dutiful child. She tried hard to excuse herself to her own conscience, but in vain; the conviction was fastened on her mind in a way that she could not escape from it. She was led to see that this evil action was the fruit of an evil nature; that her heart was deceitful, and desperately wicked; that she had sinned against God; had broken his law, and was subject to the curse. This conviction went to bed with her, and rose up with her, for it disturbed and prevented her sleep; her peace of mind was gone, and she could not recall it. The next day, when she had an opportunity, she confessed to her father, with tears, what she had done, and implored his forgiveness. This he readily gave her, and strove all he could to comfort her, but in vain.

She read her Bible, but it condemned her; she wept and prayed to the Lord in secret, but no comfort visited her. She sat alone, and was desolate; all her former righteousness became dross in her estimation, and all withered and dried up, as she was led into the spiritualities of the law and its requirements. She tried hard to work out a righteousness to quiet her conscience, and to restore her peace of her mind, but in vain; nothing could heal her wounded spirit. The state of her mind soon affected her health. Her father would sometimes take her out with him when he went on business; but her trouble of mind went with her. At last, in her feelings she lay down in despair, and hardened herself in sorrow. There seemed no hope, and she had no one to speak to who understood her case. During this period she was once persuaded to go to the theatre, and once to a ball, sad comforts to a wounded spirit, after she had been thus trying to banish all thoughts of her condition and state, that she might have a little comfort, if possible, in this world, for she had given up all hopes of salvation in the next! But the Lord set his hand the second time to the work, and she was led into such deep discoveries of her lost estate, her ruined condition, and depraved nature, that all natural things seemed in mourning. She walked about the fields and woods when she had any leisure from domestic employment, or retired to her chamber to sit alone and read the word of God, to see if any word could be found to support her sinking soul. She was now effectually divorced from the world, its plea- sures, amusements, and vanities; eternity and eternal things engrossed her attention. But, although she passed this first stage of her journey comparatively alone, yet the dear Lord did not leave her hopeless and destitute, for “he will regard the prayer of the destitute, and not despise their prayer.” She learned by degrees, here a little and there a little, as the Lord was pleased to teach her during several years, but was never suffered to turn back to the world. The thought that she had done so in the two instances named above, (in going to the ball and the theatre,) wounded her deeply; but as despair preyed so upon her spirits, her father pressed her very much to have medical advice, but she declined it. However, the medical man called, as if incidentally in passing to see her father, and as had been pre-arranged, saw her, and talked to her, &c. But he added grief to her sorrow. He told her father that she must, by some means, have her attention diverted from the one idea constantly occupying her thoughts; for if her mind continued to dwell on it with the present intensity of feeling, insanity would certainly result. This was his decided opinion.

Now, I would briefly touch on the Lord’s dealing with her in instructing her in this solitary way. She could hear nothing at church, and she would not have thought of attending a dissenting place of worship at that time. But she constantly read the word of God, and as she was able, was instant in prayer, although often she could not utter a word. When she could find a word to express her wants, in reading the Scriptures, or any other way, she uttered it on her knees, in her room before the Lord, and he despised not “the sighing of the prisoner.” He gave her some light into his word; sometimes one passage, sometimes another would suggest a thought, raise a momentary hope, or afford a distant, indistinct view of the blessed Jesus, his work and love, and what he had done and effected for sinners; and she was led to see there was a way in which a holy God could save sinners. This was to her a great discovery; although how it was she could not have told any one, had she been asked; much less had she any knowledge of interest in it. She believed the righteous were saved; but when she lost all her own righteousness, and became a sinner in her own estimation, this hope perished, and she died to it. Then the Lord taught her by his word, that sinners were saved; this, before, she had no idea of. He further discovered to her, by little and little, the manner of this salvation, that it was by the righteousness of another, even of Jesus Christ. She saw there was a, state of justification and salvation, though she knew not how to obtain it; but this her mind was directed, to; this she desired, although her mind was bowed down beneath guilt and terror, condemnation, and temptation; for Satan harassed her sorely. She thought when she was first convinced, God had departed from her; that he had taken his holy Spirit from her; that an evil spirit from God troubled her; that she was given up to hardness of heart; that she would not come unto Christ that she might have life, and therefore, had rejected him, and there remained no more sacrifice for sin; that she had committed the unpardonable sin against the Holy Ghost, and therefore could not be forgiven; with a multitude of suggestions, exceptions, and discouragements raised in the mind. When any little hope arose in the heart, or any little encouragement was derived from the word of God, Satan was ready with an exception to it.

In another way the Lord wrought for her. An elderly man worked on the farm as a day laborer, and his wife at the house was washer-woman. This man was a member of a Baptist church, I believe Mr. Job Hupton’s. He heard of her by his wife; and once, having an opportunity, spoke to her on spiritual things. She found he understood her case. He had sinned with a high hand before the Lord called him. He related some of the Lord’s dealings with his own soul. By his means another member of Mr. Hupton’s heard of her state, (a lady living in Loddon, or one of the adjoining villages,) and sent her a very pressing invitation to visit her; she was very unwilling to go, but the invitation being repeated, she went. This lady was an invalid, and was obliged to be carried. When removed from the house to her little pony vehicle for a ride, she had a long conversation with her. She had been one of the gayest of the pay, before the Lord met with her and laid her on a bed of affliction. She spoke very encouragingly to her, and on parting, said to her: “I believe we shall sit down together in the kingdom of heaven.” She also read Bunyan’s “Pilgrim;” and I think at this time, his “Grace Abounding.” I am not quite certain as to the time she read the latter, but both were useful to her. The Lord set a hope before her in the gospel, and she began to run, as Bunyan says, to “flee from the wrath to come.”

After a time, a new minister came to the parish church. He preached the doctrine of grace; visited his parishioners from house to house, and therefore often conversed with her; but he did not remain very long. Afterwards, in the providence of God, her father left the farm. She was removed to Lowestoft; and in a neighboring village lived a clergyman, whom, perhaps, the term “Evangelical,” in its modern acceptation, will describe. She frequently walked two miles to hear him; for his discourses were different to anything she could hear in the churches round; and what of gospel he preached was useful to her. The clergyman of Lowestoft dying, this gentleman was presented to the living, and came and resided there; and in. a short time, Mrs. K. became very intimate with him and his family. But her experience went beyond his preaching by this time, for the Lord had brought her on by his own teaching, by the word and the helps I have named above, to a more comfortable hope in her soul, and had given her clearer views of the methods of God’s grace in saving sinners.

One Sunday she had been to a village to hear him, or one of his curates, and was returning across the fields in meditation, when the dear Lord mercifully shone into her heart; opened up to her the way of salvation; revealed the Lord Jesus to her soul, full of grace and truth; showed to her the covenant of grace, and her own interest in it, so that she saw clearly she was saved in Christ before she fell in Adam. Her understanding being enlightened, she saw the distinct personality of the sacred Trinity; their personal acts of grace in the salvation of sinners; the work of the Lord Jesus Christ; his offices, and the relations he stands in to his people. She said also, she saw cleanly the eternal safety of one of her brothers, who was then under deep conviction and trouble of mind. She knew not how long she was in the fields, or in reaching home; her mind was above the earth. She retired to her room, and poured out her soul to God in praise and prayer. She read the word of God, and the blessed Spirit confirmed it by the word, leading her through the different parts of it; showing her its agreement with the path she had been led in. She had often before read that passage: “I have loved thee with an everlasting love; therefore, with lovingkindness have I drawn thee;” and had prayed to the Lord that she might understand that in her own experience. Now the Lord brought that passage to her mind, and showed her that it was fulfilled in her experience; that, because he had loved her with an everlasting love, therefore, he had drawn her with lovingkindness. Many parts of Isaiah she was led into, and the word was sweet to her taste; she lived on it, and ate it, and it was the joy and rejoicing of her heart. One other passage I will name, which was applied to her soul with a peculiar power: “And I will betroth thee unto me for ever; yea, I will betroth thee unto me in righteousness, and in judgment, and in lovingkindness, and in mercies. I will even betroth thee unto me in faithfulness; and thou shalt know the Lord.” (Hos. 2:19, 20.) Through every part of this scripture she was led; not a passing glance, but it was opened up to her in its several parts and bearings, and with relation to her own interest in it. Communion with God in prayer, praise, reading, and meditation was now her constant delight and employment in all her spare time. She used to be up at 4 or 5 o’clock in the morning to read her Bible and call on the Lord, and the Lord would meet with her, and bless her, and commune with her, and open his loving heart to her, and lift upon her the light of his countenance, and put gladness into her soul.

At this time, a new curate came to assist the clergyman before spoken of. He was a decided man, and preached salvation by grace fully, fearlessly, sweetly, and experimentally; too much so for the many. Mrs. K. profited by his ministry. He had also his views very much in favor of believers’ baptism, and against the baptism of infants. He would also converse on all these topics freely, and was not averse to Dissenters, or any who truly feared God. Mrs. K.’s prejudices against Dissenters were thus rubbed off, and her mind was led into the subject of baptism. There was at a cottage a little distance from the town, in another parish, a week day service, one week by the minister of the Established Church, and the alternate week by a Baptist minister; then she sometimes went to the Baptist chapel in Lowestoft, nearly opposite her dwelling. Her mind was thus instructed and led on. The curate left, and she felt destitute of the preached word. She joined the Baptist church, and was favored in the ordinance, but lost the favor and friendship of the vicar. He tried hard to prevent it by argument, &c., but God gave her decision of mind to follow Christ wherever she saw her way plain by his word. With her was baptized an old lady 83 years of age. On coming to the edge of the baptistry, nearly blind, she exclaimed aloud, “Be astonished, O my soul, that God should have brought me here!” The old lady had withstood her convictions on this point for some years. The chapel was very crowded, yet Mrs. K.’s mind was very happy, calm, and tranquil; but she found not peace in the church.

The minister who baptized her left. Some in the church invited erroneous men, worldly-minded, political men; this prevented her having much communion with the members, except a few who were differently minded. She now often attended at Beccles, and sat down with the church there, and heard Mr. W., the minister, with much satisfaction. She opened her house for preaching; and when supplies could be obtained, if they were refused the chapel, they preached in her house; but, frequently supplies preached in the chapel. They had no stated minister. Amongst others, Mr. G supplied, and preached two nights successively from, “We have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear, but the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father.” She was very ill in health, but attended each evening, and these two discourses were much blessed to her; she had received the spirit of adoption, and was walking in liberty, and was much established and confirmed by these two sermons, and often referred to them with pleasure. She continued to walk close with God, and had much peace and joy in believing.

One day, being alone in her room, and very happy in her soul, having been reading and meditating on the word, something said to her, “Though now you are so happy in the Lord, you may have 20 years of darkness after this.” She said to herself, “O is it possible?” it was gently suggested, “Yes, it is.” She trembled at the thought. At another time it was gently suggested to her mind: “Remember, it is through much affliction you must enter the kingdom;” she found the passage, that “Through much tribulation you must enter the kingdom,” and thought over it much, as to what it might portend; but her peace and joy continued. She read Owen on “Communion with God,” and this was blessed to her soul. For several years she walked thus in the comforts of the gospel. She had many troubles, and much opposition outwardly, but she waited on the Lord continually, in private and in public, whenever opportunity offered, and her mountain stood strong by the Lord’s favor. At length, darkness came over her mind; she could not find nearness of access in prayer; she could not taste the sweetness of the promises; her heart became hard; Satan set in with his temptations, and harassed her sorely; she wrestled hard in supplication, and begged of the Lord to return, and to show her wherefore he contended with her. In his own time he was merciful to her, and visited her with the light of his countenance. As she could not pour out her soul as she wished in prayer, she had been much distressed, for in all her troubles she sought unto the Lord in prayer. These words encouraged her much, “He that searcheth the heart, knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, for he maketh intercession for the saints, according to the will of God.” The Lord hereby kept her waiting for deliverance, and then restored her confidence, and she again rejoiced in the Lord as her portion, and her exceeding great reward. For a time she walked comfortably again. Before long, however, the enemy of souls assaulted her with sore temptations. Her confidence was weakened; darkness came over her mind; and at last she was in a dreadful state of bondage, and then of despair. Her hope seemed perished from the Lord, except now and then, when some passage of the word of God would be applied to her mind, which kept her from fainting. This continued for above a year. She attended all means of grace as often as she could; but no preaching reached her case, to give her comfort. She read the Bible, but found little but condemnation, especially in those passages which speak of falling away, and finding no place of repentance, though sought carefully with tears. She thought Christ could not save her, because his work and commission to save did not extend to one in her state and condition; that she was one of those whom it was impossible to renew again unto repentance, &c.; all her letters breathed a hopeless, helpless, despairing state of mind. But she had some short intervals of hope, and sometimes was enabled to plead with the Lord, but could not regain her former standing. Although again raised to hope in the Lord’s mercy, and delivered from that depth of despairing feeling under which she had labored, she was led into Christ’s temptations and his sufferings, and substitution, and his being made a curse for sinners; and saw some of the glories, and something of the preciousness of Christ, but could not realise her interest in him, nor find the comfort she had formerly enjoyed. But she had a hope in him, and in God’s mercy through him, and sometimes would find a sweetness and fulness in some parts of the word relating to Christ. But these things did not abide in her in sensible enjoyment; and then evil questionings arose in her mind, and she was often much perplexed, discouraged, and confused, and broken in judgment concerning her state, and standing, and much harassed at times by the enemy of souls.

She removed about this time to Leicester, where she continued until her death. But although favored with gospel preaching, and spiritual companions and conversation, (and often ministers lodged with us who came to supply, and she had much conversation with them, and was frequently helped, refreshed, and encouraged,) she could not regain an abiding peace, and joy, and assurance as formerly, and sometimes would say, she was like the Jews in Babylon, “she wept when she remembered Zion.” Amongst other helps,.I remember she heard Mr. Gadsby once at York Street, with comfort from these words: “The Lord Jesus Christ, our hope.” Once she heard Mr. De F—, at Ebenezer Chapel, unusually well; and once was very much comforted in hearing Mr. I— at Trinity Chapel, and always felt much attached to him from that time. From this general description of her experience, during 16 years at Leicester, I will, now proceed to the latter part of her life.

About, perhaps, two years since or rather more, she read very carefully and profitably Dr. Goodwin’s “Child of Light walking in Darkness,” and found many things there unfolded to her satisfaction, and was somewhat encouraged and revived in her soul by it. Afterwards she complained, at times, of barrenness, hardness, carnality, want of communion, &c. Amongst the other supplies who came to Ebenezer Chapel, where we generally attended, was Mr. S., from Hitchin. His preaching appeared, from the first time she heard him, to come home with power to her soul. She never omitted an opportunity, and went with an expectation, as she said, and was seldom disappointed. We had much conversation on spiritual things; and during the month he was here, she appeared to have quite a revival, so that I have said to her, “Why, you will sing as in the days of your youth, as in the days when you came forth out of the land of Egypt.” She said, “O I hope I am not deceived! I beg of the Lord not to let me be deceived, or take comfort on wrong grounds. I would not come out of my dark state, though I have been long in it, but by the Lord’s way. I would have the Lord bring me out, but it must be his work to revive my soul as it is revived. Sometimes I have sat as insensible as the seat I was upon; but now I always hear with attention and understanding, and, generally, with interest, encouragement, and comfort. And I would not deny the Lord’s mercy and goodness to me; that would be a great sin. In my former happy days, I used to think that unbelief, and distrust of God’s goodness and faithfulness, were the greatest sins I could commit.”

After Mr. S. left, Mr. C. succeeded as a supply for a month, or, I think, five Sabbaths. Her mind now again became very dark; strong temptations assailed her soul; and although she struggled and wrestled hard against them by prayer and supplication, as she was able, trying to groan out her wants at the throne of grace, she could not effectually resist them. Her soul was bowed down to the dust; hope appeared to be fled, and despair, with a strong hand, seized her soul. Her rest was much broken; and for the month before her week’s final illness, which terminated ‘in death, a description of one day will convey a tolerably correct idea of the state of her mind during this period. I shall, therefore, only notice some of her exercises and expressions in a general way.

On retiring to rest, she was usually favored to obtain sleep the early part of the night, and woke in the morning at 2 o’clock, or half-past 2, seldom later, though, possibly, it might once or twice be 3 o’clock. As soon as she was thoroughly awake, her mind would be in the greatest distress; she would sit up in bed and bemoan her sad and desolate condition, saying there was no hope for her. Satan with his temptations prevailed against her. “O,” she would say, “to think I should believe the enemy of souls before God! But I have no power against him. I am led captive by him at his will. O I had thought I should be a witness for God! but, now, I shall be found an enemy, and there is nothing remains for me, but a fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation.’ O the fiend is continually with me, and I am, as it were, shut up with him, and I cannot escape!” Sometimes she would wring her hands in agony, and say, “What must I do? what shall I do? O if the Lord would have mercy on me! But I cannot get to the throne of grace to tell him my case. When I try, Satan meets me and stands in my way, as an armed man, and as a man with a drawn sword.” I had used to sit up with her, going over different parts of the word of God which seemed applicable to her case; as when the Psalmist said, he was “free among the dead, like the slain that lie in the grave, whom God remembers no more,” and when he said, “I am cut off from thy hand,” &c.; and endeavored to show her how God delivered them from what appeared at the time a hopeless case; that these things were written for our learning that through patience and comfort of the Scriptures we might have hope; how Paul said he was pressed out of measure above strength, so that he despared of life, &c.; how the prophet said, “When I cry and shout, thou shuttest out my prayer; thou coverest thy throne with a cloud, so that my prayer cannot pass through.” Thus we used to spend the time until daylight.

But she sunk lower and lower, so that with difficulty she attended to her domestic affairs. This was continually the case. Every morning, and in the day time, although her attention was necessarily somewhat, engaged in her employment, yet her mind was continually in an agitated, despairing state. At meal times I stayed with her as long as I could, endeavoring to find some word in the Bible which might, if the Lord pleased, shed a ray of light on her dark path, and administer a gleam of comfort to her distracted and terrified mind. In the morning she would wake up again at the usual time, weep, and bemoan her condition; try and groan before the Lord; sometimes wring her hands in an agony of despair; and if at last she lay down for a few minutes, the bed shook under her with the violence of her feelings. She would say, “You must never have any hope of me. I asked the Lord not to suffer me to be deceived; to make it plain to me if the work on my soul was of him. He knows I did not wish to be deceived, or to deceive others; and he has answered me, but not for my salvation, but for my destruction; not to establish me, but to pluck me up.”

At another time she would say, “I am not the person I was; all the former faculties of my soul are destroyed. I look out of the window at the blue sky, at the green herbs and flowers, and the in- sects, which I had used to meditate on from my youth, and I say, ‘Surely there is a God who made all these things;’ but the enemy says, ‘No, there is no God; I made all: I rule all; I am master. I do as I like with all; I do as I like with you; and I will make you do as I will;’ and I am shut up with him, and there is no hope of escape. He says, ‘If there is a God, I do not care for him, neither do you; you are become as one of us, and you will do so and so, as we shall do, won’t you?’ And then he tries to fill my mind with horrid, malicious thoughts against Christ, and says, ‘I would not come to Christ, I have no will to come to Christ.’ O he makes me do as he will. I can see him leer at me, and he taunts me, and I am left in his power.” I would say, “Not altogether in his power; remember, God once said of Job, ‘He is in thine hand, but save his life;’ and I believe the same command is given in your case, and that all the devils in hell shall never touch your life, that is hid with Christ; in God, and cannot be destroyed; for Christ himself says, ‘Because I live, ye shall live also.’ I believe the most merciful and compassionate Jesus will not suffer you to perish, but will be faithful to his word, and his word shall never fail.” “O,” she would say, “he is to them that believe; to his own people; but this is nothing to me.” I would then endeavor to show her how it must be the Lord who had called her at first, without any means from her family and kindred, as he did Abram; how she went out after him, as Abram did; how the Lord had taught and brought her to the present time, and that of old the church had the cup of trembling in her hand, for the Lord said he would take it out; and that she was not yet beyond the Bible description of those who had been saved, although she was in such a fearful state. “O,” she would say, “I have been deceived! I thought he had called me and quickened me; but I have been all along deceived.” I said, “What power, then, was it? Was it nature that wrought these effects?” “O,” she replied, “there was a power, a mighty power, wrought on my mind, a power above nature, I know; but what power I cannot tell.” When I said, “He will take the cup of trembling out of thine hand, &c.,” she replied, “He said that to me two and twenty years ago; ‘I will take the cup of trembling out of thine hand, even the dregs of the cup of my fury;’ but I have had it twice put into my hand since then, and each time it is more bitter and dreadful.” I said, “Was the latter part of the verse added, ‘Thou shalt drink no more of it?'” She said, “No; but I took it all. I thought it meant all.” I saidy “Then God’s word, spoken to you, has not failed yet.”

Sometimes as we sat conversing in a morning before daylight, I would bring before her the temptations of Christ; how “he was tempted in all points like as we are, but without sin,” and it was that he might succor those who are tempted, and that he would succor her; for, as Hart said,

“Though we neither see or feel, 

His hand supports us still;”

and that whatever dreadful, horrid temptations Satan assaulted the soul with, that temptation simply was not sin; for Christ was; “tempted in all points like as we are, yet without sin.” “Yes,” she would say, “But they prevail against me, and I have no will to come to Christ. I cannot find him.” I said, “Yes, you have a will, and your trouble is because you cannot get to him. If he would speak, you would know his voice. He would make the storm a calm. His voice on high is mightier than many waters.” “Yes,” .she would say, “I should know his voice were I to hear it, but I never, never shall; he will never speak to me.” I said to her, “Do you remember the short piece I read to you from one of the periodicals’?” She said, “What was it?” I replied, “It was this: Ralph Erskine, who in his day had no equal in describing Christian experience, was so remarkably deserted that he fell into despair. Ministers and friends from all parts came to see him, and to talk with him, but none could comfort him; yet God restored him, and he said then the soul in such a state can hear no voice but that of Christ. But I know you could hear his voice, and that you have heard it.” She said, “I thought so; I thought I had heard it; but I have been deceived. I shall never hear it, never!”

The last Wednesday Mr. C. preached, (not the last night,) I said, at dinner time, “You will go to chapel tonight?” She said, “No, I do not think I can go any more. I do not think I can sit to hear any more.” I said, “Well, I will come home to tea in time that you can get ready to go, and we will see then.” I came home at the usual time, and we sat down to tea, and began to converse as usual, when she said, “I think I shall go to chapel tonight.” I said, “That is right; I hoped you would go when the time came.” She said, “I will tell you why. I have had a scripture brought to my mind which lifted me out of a sad place two and twenty years ago.”

I said, “What is it?” She replied, “It is this, ‘The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms;’ and if he is my refuge, I will go, come what may. I believe now if I were in the pit, in the very belly of hell, if his everlasting arms were beneath me, he would bring me up and carry me to heaven.” I said, “Yes, so he would, and so I believe he will yet.” She said, “If he is my refuge, I will go.” I said, “That is right; who knows what the Lord may say to you?” We had some further conversation, in which she said this scripture had banished a temptation she was assaulted with when it came, and it had raised her mind to hope again. She went to chapel, but received nothing. I saw this by her countenance; so I said, “I am afraid you have not gathered much.” She said, “No; nothing. I understand well what he has been preaching. I know the confidence in which he stands. I have known the times when, as I thought, I could have walked with him, but not now; it is beyond me.”

In the morning she awoke early, as usual, but was not quite so despairing, although she had no comfort; but on Sunday she went to chapel again twice. On Monday evening, when he preached the last time, as we were going, a scripture came to my mind which I thought applicable to her state. I said to her, “I have had a scripture on my mind all the way we have been coming, which I think describes your state.” She said, “What is it?” I said, “It is this: “Their soul abhorreth all manner of meat, and they draw near to the gates of death.'” I made a few remarks upon it which I thought applicable to her case. She said, “It is rather singular; that text has been on my mind all the way we have been coming.” We were now at the chapel door; and went in. She came home very gloomy, saying, “I do not think I can go any more.” She slept the first part of the night but awoke early and sat up in bed, restless, and in an agony of feeling. I awoke and sat up, and said, “You have awoke earlier than usual,” She said, “I thought I would not awaken you this morning, but I could not help it. You want rest, I know.” I said, “Yes, but so do you.” She replied, “There is no more rest or peace for me for ever. O, for ever! for ever! When I first awoke, I knew not where I was, or what state I was in. I could scarcely recollect myself; but the enemy has come in like a flood, and swept away every shadow of hope that remained. I am already, as it were, in the pit. I have done with time; it is all eternity with me. Now this is the beginning of an eternal state.” If I attempted to speak a word of hope, or encouragement, she said, “Pray do not talk; it makes me worse. All the promises of the gospel are against me, and increase my misery. I have committed the sin for which there is no forgiveness.” I said, “The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s dear Son, cleanseth from all sin.” “Yes,” she said, “But not from that. O, I am left! I shall surely do some dreadful wickedness, O the misery of my poor mind! And this is the beginning of an eternal state,” she said, with a doleful, cutting accent, wrung her hands in despair, reeled to and fro like one distracted, and groaned as if her heart would break. At last tears came to her relief, and somewhat eased her burdened spirit.

We sat some time in silence; my heart went up in supplication and entreaties to the Lord that he would remember his word, and not suffer her to be tempted above that she was able to bear; that he would, most mercifully succor her, and not permit her to be swallowed up, as it were, by the power and malice of the enemy. In this state of despair she continued, and I do not know that she ever read the Bible after this, I would try sometimes to talk with her, and read a portion that I thought suitable to her case, but she could hear nothing; it appeared to increase her trouble. “O that I could die! O that the house would fall, and crush me to death! O that you would kill me, and not let me live to increase my condemnation!” were her exclamations. I would say to her, “Job speaks of seeking for death as for hid treasures, and being glad to find the grave.” “So would I,” she would say. I said, “Job once said, ‘O that he would let loose his hand against me, and cut me off.'” “Yes,” she said, “I say so. O that he would! Do not think I have given up hope willingly; that I am not willing to be saved; willing to hope, to believe, O I have not given up without a trial. I have begged, and entreated, and groaned before the Lord, that he would look on me and have pity on me. But he regards me not.” At another time she said to me, “To think that there are but few appointed to commit this great sin, and that I should be one. O that I had never known anything of these things; that I bad been like the rest of the world! I should have lived my appointed time and then been cut off, and gone down into the pit with a common condemnation. But now, amongst the worst, in the deepest and most fearful place of the pit, must be my portion. O if the Lord would only grant that I might be condemned with the common condemnation of all men, how thankful would I be to him! But it cannot be.”

One day when I came home, she said, “A passage of Scripture has crossed my mind, but it would not remain with me.” I asked “What was it?” She said, “I cannot tell you; it has gone; and I cannot remember it.” I said, “Had it an encouraging or a discouraging aspect?” She said, “It was encouraging; but it has gone; it would not remain.” The next day she said, when I came home, “That passage has visited me again today, but it is gone; it would not abide with me; and I cannot remember it. It passed before me, and looked encouragingly as it passed; but it has gone.” Except on these two occasions, she expressed no hope from the Tuesday morning until the Sunday morning, when she was seized with the disorder, or rather it was more fully developed, which terminated in her death.

On the Sunday morning she arose early, and went to take her bath as usual. She then came back into the bed-room, exclaiming, in a frantic, loud voice, “O he will make me do it! he will make me do it! He will make me do it! Now I must do it!” I was at the foot of the bed, dressing, and I said, “Do what?” She then, with a distressing exclamation, and frantic, horrified, countenance, sprang into the room, informing me what the temptation was that was so powerful on her mind. I saw at once that she had lost all self-control. I caught her hands as she sprang into the room, and would have bathed her head with water, but the attempt was vain. The temptation was so powerful on her mind that she was distracted, and continued to exclaim, “I must do it; he will make me do it.” And her look I shall never forget. It is not necessary to describe this temptation; it was not self-destruction. I at length quieted her a little, but her exclamations were incessant that she must do it. I awoke our only child, and half dressing him, sent him down stairs to finish, whilst I held her on the bed and entreated her, if possible, to be calm, and suffer me to speak a word or two. But all she could say was, “It is no use, it must be done! O to think I must do it! It must be done in a few minutes too.” I said, “Well, then, wait a few minutes, and I will come in again; only a few minutes.” She was then rather quieted, and I ran down, taking our little boy with me and the key out of the room door, and called up the woman who washed for us, who lived near. She got up, and came and stayed with her until I procured more assistance. I then sent for a medical man. Her mind, was in a fearful state all day; but once in the day she asked for me, and I went, and she shook hands with me and kissed me, and also her child. But we could not remain with her; the sight of us agitated her so much.

In this state she continued until the next Lord’s Day, and the paroxysms, at intervals, were dreadful; and then, quite exhausted, she lay down in despair. In the intervals she could talk rationally, but the temptation, and her despair of mind, continued. We called in a physician but he gave no hope. On Monday her sister Emma came, and her niece from Stamford. She knew them, and told them hers was an eternal state. “O the misery of my poor mind!” was her frequent doleful exclamation.

It is not requisite to describe all the distressing scenes and circumstances of her last week on earth; but two or three matters only I will relate. On Tuesday I went into her room. Her eyes were closed, and she was engaged in prayer. “O Lord, do speak! do give command, dear Lord! No voice but thine. It must be a power above nature. O Lord, do speak!” I heard her say, in broken acaccents, as I sat by her bed side; for she spoke with difficulty and interruption, as her throat was sore from having had Croton oil administered. I felt thankful she was again favored with a spirit of supplication, believing that, as the dear Lord gave her a heart to pray, he had an ear to hear, and that he regarded her in mercy.

The day following, Wednesday, I came home at noon to meet the medical attendant. He sat down with me a few minutes before going up stairs, when one of the nurses came down to ask him to go up, as Mrs. K. had begun to talk again. I opened the door for him; and as soon as we were in the staircase hall, I heard her voice loud, clear, and distinct. The first sound which fell on my ears was, “My dear heavenly Father.” We went up stairs, and when we entered the room, there she lay, one eye partially closed, from a watery discharge which had affected it for a few days, the other open, her countenance radiant with joy and delight. I thought of Stephen’s face shining as an angel. “O,” she said, “My dear heavenly Father, my blessed heavenly Father is come! He is come, and he is with me. I could not have thought it, but he is come! He is come! You all told me so, but I could not believe it. O I could not believe it. I thought it too great to be true. But my dear Father, my heavenly Father, is come! I have been lying at hell’s dark door all this while, and there was a great gulf fixed that I could not pass. But my dear heavenly Father has come and carried me right over it to heaven. O my ever sweet and precious Husband, I thought he had forgotten me. I thought he had forgotten his spouse, his bride; but he says he has not forgotten me, and that he never will forget me. O my dear and precious Lord, how he looks and smiles on me, with his eyes of love.” The doctor said, “You must not talk so much; you will quite exhaust yourself. You exert yourself too much, and get confused.” “O,” she said, “I have been confused, I know. I have been in such trouble. I was confused, but I am not now.” Her sister standing by the bed side, she asked, “Who is that standing by my bedside?” I replied, “It is Emma; your sister Emma.” She said, “What Emma, who was with me when I brought my first sweet babe into the world?” I said, “Yes.” She said, “Is that you, Emma?” Her sister said, “Yes.” She said, “O Emma, do you remember when we laid my dear babe in the cold ground, how I mourned for him, and how we used to go and look at his grave until I could scarcely distinguish it? And then I thought I should see him no more. But I have seen him; he is with my dear Lord.” The doctor said, “You will go to him, but he will not return to you.” She replied, “Yes, that is true; but I have seen him with my dear Lord.” He then said, “Let me entreat you not to talk, but be still and take some refreshment, will you?” She said, “Yes, I will.” He said, “Then I will loosen your hands, that you may have some refreshment, shall I?” She said, “You may if you like. I do not mind whether you do or not, now my blessed Father is with me. I know my dear Father will not hurt me.” He said, “What will you have?” She replied, “What you choose.” He said, “Some wine and cake?” She said, “Very well; bring it me.” He said, “You must have your hair all cut off.” She said, “Very well; I will do anything you wish me, now my dear Father is with me.” Her sister said, “You do not mind having your hair cut off, do you?” She said, “O no. Don’t you remember, Emma, what good it did me to have it cut off when I had that Inflammation of the brain two and twenty years ago?” She took some wine and sponge cake, and the doctor requested she should be kept as quiet as possible. In the afternoon they’cut off her hair. Her sister said, “We will leave her a band or two.” She replied, “I shall never want bands any more; you can give them to Bessy, (her niece.) But I suppose she would not give the snap of her finger for my old grey hairs. But I shall not want them.” She obtained rest afterwards and appeared comfortable, but had several violent paroxysms after this, and the temptation again assailed her, and that powerfully.

On the Saturday night, or early on Sunday morning, she spake to the nurse who sat with her, and asked for something to moisten her mouth. She gave her some orange, which she sucked, and the nurse took the pulp from her mouth, for she was too weak to swallow it. She then asked her to lay her on her side. The nurse did so, and said, “Do you know me?” She said, “Yes.” The nurse said, “I am here to wait on you.” She replied, “Yes; I know you are.” The nurse said to her, “Do you lie comfortably?” “Yes,” she answered, “That will do.” After a little time she said, “I have had a great conflict, but I have gained the victory, and I shall wear the crown. I shall enter into my Father’s house with the crown on my head.” She lay quiet for some time, and then said, “Now, dear Lord, come and take me home from all my sin, and sorrow, and suffering.” These were the last words she was heard to speak.

I went into the room in the morning. She breathed with apparent difficulty, but her features were quite natural. I believe her mind was in peace. She appeared very weak, but as if she might be sleeping, and took no notice of anything I said. After breakfast I was called up again, and on entering the room I saw at once her end was near. I had no further hope of her life, although I had when I first saw her in the morning. I felt her wrist, but could not detect any pulsation. I laid my hand on her heart, but could not discern any motion. Her countenance was calm, serene, and unruffled. She was quite warm, but no perspiration on her countenance. As I anxiously looked at her, I saw her eyebrow fall and close; and I believe that was the moment when her spirit left the body and entered on her eternal Sabbath, to be for ever with the Lord. I was very desolate. I went down stairs and sat down. I had hoped and entreated the Lord that we might rejoice together in hope of the glory of God before she departed, but this was not realised. This scripture was Softly and gently suggested to my mind, “But now we see not yet all things put under him, but we see Jesus, who was made a little lower than the angels for the suffering of death, crowned with glory and honor, that he, by the grace of God, should taste death for every man;” and it instructed me thus: “You would have wished to see a triumphant departure, and to have rejoiced. You like to see the triumphs of the saints. Look to Jesus, the Lord of the saints. He tasted in the full extent of it. But see him now, crowned with glory and honor; as he is, so are they. Rejoice, therefore, in what he is, for all saints partake of his triumphs and his exaltation.” And I believe she does; and that then, absent from the body, she was present with the Lord. She died at about 20 minutes past 9, on Sunday morning, the 13th of March.

The physician called a few minutes after her death, and went up and felt her wrist, laid his ear to her heart, and drew back her eyelid. “Ah!” he said, “It is all past.” She lay as one asleep; no distortion of features, her face warm, and pliable to the touch as that of an infant. She was buried in the cemetery on the following Friday, where her dust awaits the general resurrection. “Peace be to her memory and my soul, till we meet in a brighter and a better world.”