The Editor Gone to His Rest
OUR beloved friend and brother, Mr. J. J. Piper, of West Worthing, entered into his rest at seven o’clock on Monday morning, March 22nd, 1920. I have lost for awhile one whom I loved and esteemed very highly for his work’s sake. Quiet and unassuming, always willing to be hidden that his Master might be exalted, he had a great and loving soul in a worn and suffering body. It was only the power of God that enabled him to do the great work he did among the “lads,” all through the War. In how many trenches and dug-outs have his beautiful messages for Christ been read! And how often has his tender sympathy cheered the hearts of the widows and the fatherless. When my dear son was killed at La Coulette in April, 1917, he wrote me a most tender and beautiful letter. One thing he said was that all through a night he had been thinking of our sorrow, and wondering what message he could send us, and he could only think of one text. It was this: “A Man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.” This beautiful thought cheered us much, and it was so characteristic of his deep spirituality. He brought us to the “Man of sorrows,” who could comfort as no one on earth could; to Him who was acquainted with grief, and who carries our sorrows. It was all Christ for him. In one of the last letters I had from him shortly before he passed away, he wrote:—
“Have had rather a rough passage this last week or so, rheumatism, pain, and shortage of breath, but with ‘Christ in the vessel,’ I smile at the storm. ‘Jesus is a Rock in a weary land, a Shelter in the time of storm.’... God bless you every day, and all the way.”
In another letter he says:—
“I am unable to do but little, hut that little may be much if God is in it. May all be for His glory. Should love to see you again, hut my traveling days are over (by rail). Still we can sing:
‘Strangers here we seek no place,
Marching home together;
Every step we learn His grace,
Marching home together.’
I have not been out for months, but am able to sit by the fire and lie in bed, and praise the Lord for His goodness. May God graciously support and strengthen you in your efforts for His glory. Keep an eye on the end of the field, after taking a glance at Isa. 28:2424Doth the plowman plow all day to sow? doth he open and break the clods of his ground? (Isaiah 28:24). God bless you ever so much, and all the time.”
In his last letter to me he writes:—
“B/B. I send you two books (not again required), and should be glad to hear what you think of them. God bless you and use you more than ever for His glory. Our love to you all.”
And so, with blessings on his lips, we part on earth, to meet again in heaven.
The two books were “Spiritualism and the Christian Faith,” by G. W. Barnes, and “Social Ideals in India,” by William Paton.
One could not read his letters without feeling that he was all the time wanting you to realize the beauty of his Saviour. Every letter was a finger-post pointing to Christ. Nearly always suffering, he was always praising; as he wrote to me last year: “The Lord will command His loving-kindness in the daytime, and in the night His song (not mine) shall be with me. His song has constantly to be in the night of coughing and pain” (2 Cor. 13:99For we are glad, when we are weak, and ye are strong: and this also we wish, even your perfection. (2 Corinthians 13:9)). Again he writes: “Pleurisy rather bad, still in bed. Hope you keep going; you must be very careful, my dear doctor. Our love and many reminders of you and for you at the throne of grace. Inasmuch. Yours gladly in weariness oft.”
Now the weary warrior for Christ rests. He was constantly telling me how much he owed to the devoted care of his wife, whose loving service so freely given night and day was an inestimable gift to him. We pray God to comfort her in these days of sorrow and of loss. I am sure she will not mind my printing extracts from her letter to me telling me a little of his last days:—
2, Canterbury Road, West Worthing.
April 2nd, 1920.
Dear Dr. and Mrs. Wreford,
Thank you very much for your kind letters of sympathy in my sad trial. I hardly know how to speak of my precious husband; he had been so much better this last winter, and I had been busy getting his things ready and looking forward to the time when I should be taking him out again; but the Lord willed it otherwise. I had said to him several times, “How lovely it is to have you a little free from pain.” Only a few days before he went “Home” he asked Mr. G. (a friend) to send some Testaments to Constantinople, but he was very ill then. The “Home” call seemed to come rather suddenly at the last. He was rather poorly when March came in, and his cough was very trying, but he did not keep to his bed entirely, but used to sit in the chair. For about a week before he passed away he had very little sleep, and on the Friday afternoon, March 19th, I had to send for the doctors as he was much worse. When the doctor left he told me he did not think my husband would get better, as the heart was worn out; but even then I could not think he was going “Home.” But he gradually got weaker, and on the Saturday Mr. M. and Mr. T. called, and to Mr. T. he said: “I shall not die but live to declare the works of the Lord.” On Sunday evening, about seven, he became unconscious, and we watched him until seven Monday morning, when he passed away so peacefully without a struggle. “In His presence is fullness of joy,” and I love to think of my loved one there, but my loss, oh! it’s a terrible blank! His last days were full of praise. He said repeatedly, “Oh that men would praise the Lord for His goodness and His wonderful works to the children of men.”...