My girlhood was spent without God. I had grown up to eighteen years of age or rather more, in utter carelessness about my soul, loving much the pleasures of the world, dress, company, and amusements. My father would, from time to time, enter a feeble protest against these things, and he sought to win us from them, by books and serials of an interesting and evangelical character; while my mother was more lenient to our follies.
About this time my father’s last illness came upon him. For six weeks he sat in his chair, night and day, unable to take a recumbent position, his heart being in a critical state. I took my turn in watching by him, but though I could see he needed comfort, I was unable to give it. Good men came to visit him, and read and prayed with him. I heard his confession of being a “sinner saved by grace,” with a touching reference to “the white robed multitude,” but I knew not what it meant.
One night I was awakened from my sleep by the nurse, who suddenly said, “Your father is dying; come directly.” I was in his room in a moment; others were there before me. My dear father was sitting in his chair by the fireside, his head resting on his hand, his elbow on the table. One glance at his face told me all was over; the nurse threw a handkerchief over his head, and I sank on my knees by the bedside.
Then and there the way of salvation through the crucified One passed before my eyes; in the very presence of death I saw life for the first time. I heeded not, and knew not what was going on around me, until roused by kind hands, I was told to dress and go downstairs with my mother. The sudden bereavement that brought loud weeping from others, brought none from me, at least not for a time. I was in a new world; peace filled my heart and mind, and I longed to know more of the mysterious treasure I felt I possessed. This the great enemy of souls perceived, I have no doubt, and laid his bait accordingly. I was ignorant of his devices, ignorant of everything. I may be said never to have heard a gospel sermon in my life, and thought not of turning to the Word, or I might possibly have been preserved.
The solemnity of the death scene came back, and with it a sense of my bereavement, and then almost immediately the orders for mourning and the funeral. I have ever since regarded the costumes and the parade common to these occasions as an especial wile of the devil to turn aside the soul from solemn thoughts, under the plea of proper respect for the dead.
My old tastes revived in planning deep and handsome mourning, and many hours were spent in this way, while my sweet peace was leaking away, and I knew it not.
The funeral over, I awoke as from a dream. A voice within, gentle at first, then louder, seemed to say, “What have you lost?” Yes, I felt I had lost something. What was it? I could not say, but my conscience was guilty, and I went into the world to drown its voice; but this would not do. Then my health gave way. I remember waking one night with the feeling that I was dropping into hell. It was forced upon me that I had surrendered Christ for the things of the world, for less than a mess of pottage to a fainting man—for dress, for vanity. I could well understand the dying lament of another, “I know where I missed it;” and this would also have been my lament but for His unspeakable love. “To the Lord our God belong mercies and forgivenesses, though we have rebelled against Him.”
God, the God I had feared, coming out of His place, reconciling, not imputing trespasses, beseeching sinners to be reconciled to Himself! My inmost soul bowed before Him. I said, “Abba Father,” with a lightened heart, and called Jesus my Saviour. I had accepted the reconciliation, and all was peace.
Soon after this, the Lord, in His tender care, led me for a while under the ministry of one of His most valued servants, where my heart became established in grace. I then parted company with my former companions. I no more suited them than they me. “God divided the light from the darkness.” I became a Sunday-school teacher—an employment not so popular then as now; I read the Scriptures frequently among the poor, in felt ignorance indeed. When visiting the place, a few years after, I was surprised to find how God had blessed His Word by my stammering tongue.
Now, I would say to my young friends in the words of another, “Next to losing your soul, fear losing your convictions.” I would warn and entreat of you, by all that is blessed in time and eternity, to withstand the first temptation that would occupy the heart to the exclusion of Christ. Be firm, be simple, be prayerful, so shall you prevail.
“His word a light before us spreads,
By which our path we see;
His love, a banner o’er our heads,
From harm preserves us free.”