The Life And Death Of George Keeble

Gospel Standard 1898:

Last Days And Hours Of George Keeble, Minister Of The Gospel, Lately Residing At Peterborough.

In writing a few lines, giving particulars of my dear father’s last days and hours on earth, it is with the sincere desire that under whose eye they may come, the same may be, in the Lord’s hand, an encouragement to those in the path of tribulation and trial. It is indeed a great and unspeakable mercy to have a father, a companion in the path of conflict, and one who was deeply taught in the things of the Spirit of God. However time may change, the one true religion stands firm, and this was our favoured lot to see in him to his latest breath. The last month of his life was very trying, as he was greatly afflicted, having about nine months previously gone under a severe operation, in having three stones removed from his bladder. Never after this did he seem to regain his strength, but gradually grew worse, until dropsy set in, which at first appeared in his feet. This was to him a sure sign that his time on earth was short; and from the first sign of the end, his cheerfulness was very marked. And when the doctor told him he had water on his lungs, he said, “Then, doctor, you and I must part; may God grant we may meet in heaven.” He had a great longing, at times, to depart, for his faith, for the most part, stood firm in the dear Christ of God, and his only trust was in his blood. A week before his end he repeated the lines below, and death then was plain enough to be seen on his face:

“On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand, 

And cast a wishful eye

To Canaan’s bright and happy land, 

Where all my treasures lie.”

He repeated the word “all” in a very solemn manner, which had a great impression on those that heard it; and a little later in the day he said, 

“They wrestled hard, as we do now, 

With sins, and doubts, and fears.”

He repeatedly reminded those around that his time on earth was short.

The next time we saw him, a week after, which would be May 2nd, we could see that a great change had taken place, and it really seemed that after a few more breaths the struggle would be over. But after this, in the afternoon, he seemed to rally, and so after staying with him until ten o’clock, left him for home, about 50 miles, by train, but returned the next morning, and found that at eight o’clock the family was called, and it seemed that he must be passing away. But he again rallied. We arrived at about twelve o’clock, and he said he quite thought he was going at about eight o’clock; that he felt such a blessed change come over his mind, and he was on the point of saying “Victory.” But a little longer the Lord had designed his stay with us, and much to the comfort of some who are left. At about three o’clock in the afternoon of May 3rd, we had been out in the garden a few minutes, and thinking over how well off my father was, having that which could face death with such calmness. We went in again to him; my elder brother was sitting with him. I said, “Father, you are well off.” He said, “Yes, I am; that is very strong language now, but it’s true.” How plain it was to see how firm his feet were on the blessed Rock! Some time later he spoke of how the enemy had tried to shake his blessed hope and faith. But no; “he shook me, it is true, but he has been unable to move my feet from the rock.” And then he repeated those lines:

“Jesus is precious, saith the Word; 

What comfort does this truth afford! 

And when in death I bow my head, 

He’s precious then, my dying Head.”

About 10.30 at night, May 3rd, my eldest brother called in, and we sat together with dear father, and he then seemed to have extra strength given to say a few words to my eldest brother, and they were these: “George, I have an inheritance to go to. My inheritance is God himself. All that God is, is mine. I inherit his love, his power, his strength, and his glory, and am a joint-heir with Christ to this great inheritance. Also, I have told you many times, you have all been like props to an old building as far as temporal things are concerned; and how true this is; words could not be found to utter the truth more correctly; but how willingly you have done it! How freely and ungrudgingly! but now the props will be no longer required.” His head then dropped down, and he seemed greatly exhausted, and had great difficulty in breathing. These were the last words my eldest brother heard him speak. I felt to have a strong impression that the Lord would soon take him, and said, “Father, I hope the Lord may come to-night and take you to himself.” He said, “He hoped he would.” We had arranged to stay up with him on the night of the 3rd, which was his last night on earth; and he several times said what a great comfort it was to him in having the writer with him that night. He spoke about many blessed things as the night wore away, and particularly what a hard fight of faith his had been, and how little grace he had felt to have in life; and now that death had come, it was still “strength enough, and none to spare.” But it was with great difficulty he spoke. My mother got up at about 2.30, and at 3 o’clock we went to have a little rest, but had only been gone about three-quarters of an hour before mother again came for us, and then it was plain enough that death was come. The cold perspiration stood on his dear face, and he could not speak, but looked calm and unmoved. So we said, “Father, we now believe you are about to cross the river. You have often said, when talking on the best things, you hope to die shouting. We know that you cannot now speak, but is it ‘victory’ now, father? If so, lift up your hand.” At once he raised his hand and arm, and then it was as cold as death. We could only say, “Blessed end, blessed end.” My dear mother said, “It is enough, Richard; it is enough;” my youngest brother also being present. This was near upon five o’clock on the morning of May 4th. He then gradually seemed to sink until about six o’clock. My youngest brother then asked him if he was quite happy. He then raised his dying hand again, and at about 6.15 he passed peacefully away, without a struggle or a groan, to be for ever with the Lord. My dear mother at once repeated the lines—

“We strive, but all our efforts fail 

To trace him in his flight;

No eye could pierce within the veil 

Which hides that world of light,”

Also,

“One gentle sigh his fetter broke; 

We scarce could say, ‘He’s gone,’

Before his happy spirit took

Its mansion near the throne.”

On Saturday following his mortal remains were interred at Peterborough Cemetery, by Mr. Bray, who he particularly wished should bury him (or Mr. Fox), having been life-long friends for the truth’s sake. Several friends from Kettering attended, and also from other distant places where my father had been in the habit of supplying. My dear mother has been wonderfully supported, and has been obliged to say, “She would not have one thing altered, well knowing that a kind husband and a loving father has been taken to his prepared mansion in the skies, and is now singing that blessed song, which many know was the theme of his soul on earth: “Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood…,to him be glory and dominion forever and ever.” How many times he has said, “Ours is a grand religion, for it is the power of God.”

It is possible that his own life, written by himself, of his call by grace and to the ministry, may be presented in a small book, as there are a great many of his bosom friends would like to have it. He stood on the walls of Zion twenty years. The verses on his funeral card came very comfortably to my mother after he had passed away a few hours, and it was his wish to have on his tombstone:—

“Whatever is, is best for me.”

R. L. Keeble

Nottingham