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being a time of sore conflict and trial, having to labor with much bodily pain, about noon she prayed fervently that she might be resigned, saying > "What is all this to be compared with what my Redeemer suffered." In' the evening several friends being present, after a time of silence she broke forth thus: "Let the Lord arise in all our hearts, that our enemies may be scattered and the clouds dispersed."
The following day our friend James Thornton, who was preparing for a religious visit to Europe, came to see her, when she desired him to give her love to some particular friends in London, and inform them she was gone to rest.
In the afternoon the doctor came who formerly attended her, she having not required his assistance, apprehending it unnecessary for some time, and partly laid aside all medicine.
After a time in silence, she expressed herself thus: "Doctor, the time is drawing near when all pains and complaints shall cease; nevertheless I acknowledge thy kindness." A few hours after, William Savery, a ministering friend, came into the room, and taking her by the hand, she said: "The Lord liveth with me every day and every hour." Some days after, having had a time of severe pain she expressed herself thus: "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, I feel his rod, but his staff comforts me. At another time, being in much bodily pain, but in a sweet frame of mind, she weightily uttered these words: "I tell him I will endeavor to bear more for his sake." Two days after, sitting by her and being much affected, she pressed my hands within hers, and said: "The God of love be my support and thy support, for he is all love." The next day some friends being present, she spoke thus: "I am weak, the Lord is strong, which is my comfort: I see nothing in my way, nothing but love to my friends and the outcasts."
A few days after, feeling the renewing income of the (Lord's presence, sHe said: "Blessed be the name of the Lord, for he hath refreshed my body and soul. In the afternoon she took me by the hand and desired me to stay with her from meeting, saying her time was short, and crying out: "glory to God in the highest, and peace and good will to men," adding, a little after: "Comfort ye my people, saith the Lord, i comforted me. Open, ye everlasting doors! and let the King of Glory come in." At another time, holding mo by the hand after being urged to take a very efficacious medicine, she spoke thus: "My Redeemer is a God of glory and might! and shall I defeat his purposes?" Several days after she sent for me to sit by her, and expressed herself thus: "I lay, as it were, in my Saviour's arms, and I tell him I will be nothing, and he shall be all." The next day she desired that I would give some of her apparel to the person who nursed her, and
added : "I have nothing more to say, but 'Grave where is thy victory; death, thy sting!' My bed is a bed of pleasure, a river of pleasure." At another time she spoke thus to a sober person of a different persuasion f "lam resigned, I am only waiting for my final change; I would not stay for any thing here." Some days after, being very weak, and attended with a difficulty of breathing, she expressed herself thus: "I am ready and resigned when the Lord pleases to call." A few days after, a particular friend sitting beside her, she said, in a low voice: "I have this day been drinking of the still waters of the brook of Shiloh." About this time she requested an intimate friend to burn some needle-work, but the same friend requesting two of those pieces which were jnteuded for the fire, for herself, she made this reply: "Do not desire it, my dear, they have been my idols, and I am afraid thou wilt make them thine." The next morning the same friend came to see her, she queried: "hast thou utterly consumed those pieces I gave thee yesterday?" Being answered they were, she took some pieces from under her pillow, which she sent for home, and said: "Take and consume these likewise," which was fully complied with. Some days after, she sent for me into the room, and desired me to take down two pieces that were in frames. After they were taken down, and a pause made, I enquired the reason; she answered with great firmness: "They were idols." The next day she desired me to go and bring an intimate friend; when she came, I not being present, she expressed herself thus: "I desire thee to call my husband to unite with thee to consume those pieces of needle-work that are in frames." Some hours after, she expressed herself in the following manner: "I have no peace while 1 hear the lowing of the oxen and the bleating of the sheep, for 1 here is yet a reserve. Take those things out of the drawers, and consume them all," (which was a considerable quantity of curious needle-work.) Her request was fully complied with. She steadily bore her testimony against this branch of education, particularly spriging, and refused many advantageous offers on that account, in the way of her school; she also desireU me to procure a particular person to take the necessary care of her remains, and likewise some serious person to sit up with her corpse; she further requested a near friend to examine her dress, saying: "Whatever is added, let it be plain, and at the time of my departure, let the room be quiet and still." The morning before her close, after a season of great inward poverty and conflict, she said: "Now I feel the spring of the Lord's love to arise in my heart, to my great comfort." The morning following, she beckoned to a friend whose spirit she often felt near, and spoke thus: "Now I see the city; it hath twelve gates, and of a truth there is no need of the sun, for the Lord God is, the light of it." Then she inquired if it was almost four o'clock, and being answered that it was about eleven, said she thought it was later. "Am I to continue till four? for about four I shall be going to that city." During this interval, she was, as it were, wholly given up, frequently crying: "Come, Lord Jesus, come, Lord Jesus," with many more weighty expressions, which could not be distinctly heard, her voice being low and much impaired. About four in the afternoon of said day she changed, and appeared in fervent prayer; then asking an intimate friend to turn her, she said: "This would be the last," which accordingly proved so, for a few minutes after, she broke forth thus: "Come Lord, I am thy sheen,; come Lord, I am thy sheep," and with the third sentence sweetly departed, having breathed her last without the least uneasy sensation, and I have no doubt, hath entered into that, rest where sighing ceases, and sorrow hath an end. She was deep and inward in spirit, and bore her sickness and pain with great patience, manifesting a sweet disposition, and evinced throughout a mind much redeemed from the world, being preserved sensible to the lust.
She was interred in Friends' burying ground, in Philadelphia, attended by a number of Friends and others of different denominations.
THE LIFE OF GOD IN THE SOUL OF MAN.
"Infinite and eternal-Majesty, author and fountain of being and blessedness, how little do we poor sinful creatures know of thee, or the way to serve and please thee! We talk of religion, and pretend unto it; but, alas! how few are there who know and consider what it means! How easily do we mistake the affections of our nature, and the issues of self-love, for those divine graces which alone can render us acceptable in thy sight! It may justly grieve me to consider that 1 should have wandered so long, and contented myself so often with vain shadows, and false images of piety and religion: yet I cannot but acknowledge and adore thy goodness, who hast been pleased in some measure to open mine eyes, and let me see what it is at which I ought to aim. I rejoice to consider what mighty improvements my nature is capable of, and what a divine temper of spirit doth shine in those whom thou art pleased to choose, andcausest to approach unto thee. Blessed be thy infinite mercy, who sentest thine own son to dwell among men, and to instruct them by his example as well as by his laws, giving them a perfect pattern of what they ought to be. O that the holy life of the blessed Jesus may be always in my thoughts, and before mine eyes, till I receive a deep sense and
impression of those excellent graces that shone so eminently in him; and let me never cease my endeavors, till that new and divine nature prevails in my soul, and Christ be formed within me."
The excellency and advantage of Religion.
And now, my dear friend, having discovered the nature of true religion, before I proceed any further, it will not, perhaps, be unfit to fix our meditations a little on the excellency and advantages of it, that we may be excited to the more vigorous and diligent prosecution of those methods whereby we may-attain so great a felicity. But alas! what words shall we find to express that inward satisfaction, those hidden pleasures, which can never be rightly understood, but by those holy souls who feel them !" a stranger intermeddleth not with their joy." (Prov. xiv. 10.) Holiness is the right temper, the vigorous and healthful constitution of the soul: its faculties had formerly been enfeebled and disordered, so that they could not exercise their natural functions: it had wearied itself with endless tossings and rollings, and was never able to find any rest: now that distemper being removed, it feels itself well, there is a due harmony in its faculties, and a sprightly vigor possesseth every part. The understanding can discern what is good, and the will can cleave unto it; the affections are not tied to the motions of sense, and the influeacc of external objects, but they are stirred by more divine impressions, are touched by a sense of invisible things.
The Excellency of Divine Love.
Let us descend, if you please, into a nearer and more particular view of religion, in those several branches of it which were named before; let us consider that love and affection wherewith holy souls are united to God, that we may see what excellency and felicity is involved in it. Love is that powerful and prevalent passion, by which all the faculties and inclinations of the soul are determined, and on which both its perfection and happiness depend. The worth and excellency of a soul is to be measured by the object of its love: he who loveth mean and sordid things, doth thereby become base and vile; but a noble and well-placed affection doth advance and improve the spirit into a conformity with the perfections which it loves. The images of these do frequently present themselves unto the mind, and by a secret force and energy insinuate into the very constitution of the soul, and mould and fashion it unto their own likeness. Hence we may see how easily lovers or friends do slide into the imitation of the persons whom they regard; how, even before they are aware, they begin to resemble them, not only in the more considerable instances of their deportment, but also in their voice and gesture, and that which we call their mien and air; and certainly we should as well transcribe the virtues and inward beauties of the soul, if they were the object and motive of our love. But now, as all the creatures we converse with have their mixture and alloy, we are always in hazard to be sullied and corrupted by placing our affections on them. Passion doth easily blind our eyes, so that we first approve and then imitate the things that are blameable in them; the true way to improve and ennoble our souls, is by fixing our love on the divine perfections, that we may have them always before us, and derive an impression of them on ourselves; and " beholding with an open face, as in a glass, the glory of the Lord, we may be changed into the same image from glory to glory." He who with a generous and holy ambition hath raised his eyes towards that uncreated beauty and goodness, and fixed his affection there, is quite of another spirit, of a more excellent and heroic temper, than the rest of the world, and cannot but infinitely disdain all mean and unworthy things; he will not entertain any low or base thoughts, which might disparage his high and noble pretensions. Love is the greatest and most excellent thing we are masters of, and therefore it is folly and baseness to bestow it unworthily; it is indeed the only thing we can call our own; other things may be taken from us by violence, but none can ravish our love. If any thing else be counted ours, by giving our love, we give all, so far as we make over our hearts and wills, by which we possess our other enjoyments. It is not possible to refuse him any thing to whom by love we had given ourselves; nay, since it is the privilege of gifts to receive their value from the mind of the giver, and not be measured by the event, but by the desire; he who loveth, may, in some sense, be said not only to bestow all that he hath, but all the things else which may make the beloved person happy, since he doth heartily wish them, and would readily give them, if they were in his power; in which sense it is that one makes bold to say, that " divine love doth in a manner give God unto himself, by the complacency it takes in the happiness and perfection of his nature." But though this may seem too strained in expression, certainly love is the worthiest present W«j can offer unto God, and it is extremely debased when we bestow it another way.
When this affection is misplaced, it doth often vent itself in such expressions as point at its genuine and proper object and insinuato where it ought to be placed. The flattering and blasphemous terras of adoration, wherein men do sometimes express their passion, are the language of that affection which was made and designed for God: as he who is accustomed to speak to some great person, doth perhaps unawares accost another with those titles he was wont to give to; him. But certainly that passion which account-1
eth its object a deity, ought to be bestowed on him who really is so: those unlimited submissions, which would debase the soul if directed to another, will exalt and ennoble it, when placed here; those chains and cords of love, are infinitely more glorious than liberty itself; this slavery is more noble than all the empires in the world.
The Advantages of Divine Love.
Again, as divine love doth advance and elevate the soul, so it is that alone which can make it happy; the highest and most ravishing pleasures, the most solid and substantial delights that human nature is capable of, are those which arise from the endearments of a well-placed and successful affection. That which imbitters love, and makes it ordinarily a troublesome and hurtful passion, is the placing it on those who have not worth enough to deserve it, or affection and gratitude to require it, or whose absence may deprive us of the pleasure of their converse, or their miseries occasion our trouble. To all these evils are they exposed, whose chief and supreme affection is placed on creatures like themselves; but the love of God delivers us from them all.
The worth of the Object.
First, I say, love must needs be miserable, and full of trouble and disquietude, when there is not worth and excellency enough in the object to answer the vastness of its capacity; so eager and violent a passion cannot but fret and torment the spirit, when it finds not wherewith to satisfy its cravings. And, indeed, so large and unbounded is its nature, that it must be extremely pinched and straightened; when confined to any creature; nothing below an infinite good can afford it room to stretch itself, and exert its vigor and activity. What is a skin-deep beauty, or some small degrees of goodness, to match or satisfy a passion which was made for God; designed to embrace an infinite good? No wonder lovers do so hardly suffer any rival, and do not desire that others should approve their passion by imitating it; they know the scantiness and narrowness of the good which they love, that it cannot suffice two, being in effect too little for one. Hence love, " which is strong as death," occasioneth " jealousy, which is wicked as the grave;" the coals whereof are coals of fire, which hath a most violent flame.
But divine love hath no mixture of this gall; when once the soul is fixed on that supreme and all-sufficient good, it finds so much perfection and goodness, as doth not only answer and satisfy its affection, but master and overpower it too; it finds all its love to be too faint and languid for such a noble object, and is only sorry thatlt can command no more. It wisheth for the flames of a seraph, and longs for the time when it shall be wholly melted and dissolved into love: and because it can do so little itself, it desires the assistance of the whole creation, that angels and men would concur with it in the admiration and love of those infinite perfections.
The Certainty to be Beloved Again. Again, love is accompanied with trouhle, when it misseth a suitable return of affection. Love is the most valuable thing we can bestow, and by giving it, we do in effect give all that we have: and therefore it must needs be afflicting, to find so great a gift despised; that the present which one hath made of his whole heart, cannot prevail to obtain any return. Perfect love is a kind of self-dereliction, a wandering out of ourselves; it is a kind of voluntary death, wherein the lover dies to himself, and all his own interests, not thinking of them, nor caring for them any more, and minding nothing but how he may please and gratify the party whom he loves. Thus he is quite undone, unless he meets with reciprocal affection; he neglects himself, and the other hath no regard to him; but if he be beloved, he is revived, as it were, and liveth in the soul and care of the person whom he loves; and now he begins to mind his own concernments not so much because they are his, as because the beloved is pleased to own an interest in them: he becomes dear unto himself, because he is so unto the other.
But why should I enlarge on so known a matter? Nothing can be more clear, than that the happiness of love depends on the return it meets with: and herein the divine lover hath unspeakably the advantage, having placed his affection on him whose nature is love; whose goodness is as infinite as his being; whose mercy prevented us when we were his enemies, therefore cannot choose but embrace us when we are become his friends. It is utterly impossible that God should deny his love to a soul wholly devoted to him, and which desires nothing so much as to serve and please him; he cannot disdain his own image, nor the heart in which it is engraved; love is all the tribute which we can pay him, and it is the sacrifice which he will not despise.
The Presence of the Beloved Person. Another thing which disturbs the pleasure of love, and renders it a miserable and unquiet passion, is absence and separation from those we love. It is not without a sensible affliction that friends do part, though for some little time; it is sad to be deprived of that society which is so delightful; our life becomes tedious, being spent in an impatient expectation of the happy hour wherein we may meet again; but if death have made the separation, as some time or other it must, this occasions a grief scarce to be paralleled by all the misfortunes of human life, and wherein we pay dear enough for the comforts of our friendship. But, oh, how happy are those, who have placed their love on him who can never
be absent from them ! they need but open their eyes, and they shall everywhere behold the traces of his presence and glory, and converse with him whom their soul loveth: and this makes the darkest prison, or wildest desert, not only supportable, but delightful to them.
The Divine Love makes us partake of an infinite Happiness.
In fine, a lover is miserable if the person whom he loveth be so; they who have made an exchange of hearts by love, get thereby an interest in one another's happiness and misery; and this makes love a troublesome passion when placed on earth. The most fortunate person hath grief enough to mar the tranquillity of his friend, and it is hard to hold out, when we are attacked on all hands, and suffer not only in our own person but in another's. But if God were the object of our love, we should share an infinite happiness, without any mixture or possibility of diminution: we should rejoice to behold the glory of God, and receive comfort and pleasure from all the praises wherewith men and angels do extol him. It should delight us beyond all expression to consider that the beloved of our souls is infinitely happy in himself, and that all his enemies cannot shake or unsettle his throne: That our God is in the heavens, and doth whatsoever he pleaseth.
Behold 1 on what sure foundations his happiness is built, whose soul is possessed with divine love, whose will is transformed into the will of God, and whose greatest desire is, that his Maker should bo pleased. Oh the peace, the rest, the satisfaction that attendeth such a temper of mind!
(To be continued.)
It must, undoubtedly, be the design of our gracious God, that all this toil for the supply of our physical necessities—this incessant occupation amid the things that perish—shall be no obstruction, but rather a help, to our spiritual life. The weight of a clock seems a heavy drag on the delicate movements of its machinery; but, so far from arresting or impeding those movements, it is indispensable to their steadiness, balance, accuracy. There must be some analogous action of what seems the clog and drag-weight of worldly work on the finer movements of man's spiritual being. The planets in the heavens have a two-fold motion—in their orbits and on their axis; the one motion not interfering, but carried on simultaneously, and in perfect harmony with the other; so must it be that man's two-fold activities round the heavenly and the earthly centre disturb not, nor jar with each other. He who diligently discharges the duties of the earthly, may not less sedulously—nay, at the same moment—fulfil those of the heavenly sphere ; at once "diligent in business," and " fervent in spirit, serving the Lord."— Caird.
PHILADELPHIA, EIGHTH MONTH 15, 1857.
Died,—At her residence, at Little Creek Landing, Delaware, of pneumonia, on the 18th of 3rd mo., 1857, An* Emerson, (widow of Pennel Emerson, dec'd.) in her 67th year.
, At her residence in Camden, Delaware, of
pueumomia, on the 24th of 4th month, 1857, Mary Emeesuh, in her 58th year.
, At his residence on Yonge Street, Canada
West, on 2nd day the 27th of the 7th month 1857, William I. Philmts, of remitting fever, in the 65th year of his a»e. He was a moral, upright man, a useful citizen, an affectionate husband, a tender father, and diligent in the attendance of religious meetings. His hospitable mansion was always open to the reception of travelling Friends, whom he often essentially assisted in their progress. " In the midst of life we are in death."
For Friends1 intelligencer.
1 was silent before the Lord, as a child not yet weaned; He put words in my mouth, and I sang forth his praises with an audible voice.
I called UDto my God front the great deep; He put on bowels of mercy, and had compassion on me, because his love was infinite, and his power without measure.
He cailed for my life, and I offered it at his footstool, but he gave it me as a prey with unspeakable addition.
He called for my will, and I resigned it at his call; but he returned me his own in token of his love.
He called for the world, and I laid it at his feet, with the crowns thereof; I withheld them not at the beckoning of his hand.
But mark the benefit of exchange! for he gave me instead of earth, a kingdom of eternal peace; and in lieu of the crowns of vanity, a crown of glory.
My God called me from my father, and I went apace; he tailed me his son, and clothed me in his garments.
He called me from the wife of my youth, and I ran in haste; he espoused me to his son, and I became his near relation.
What moved thee to this, Oh! life of my aoul 1 0 ! glory of thy sainte! for I had become Tile with the blackness of Egypt.
Was it not thy infinite love and mercy, thine unalterable patience and wonderful condescension, that brought thee from thy throne below thy footstool, in the likeness of vanity, that thou mightest exalt me above the high Heavens in tby kingdom of eternal rest?
Thou hast hast made me bold before thee; thou
hast made me confident in thy sight; behold now I speak without restraint, because thy free will has made me free.
So, now thy election is a free election, and thy call without dispute.
* They gazed on me; they said I was mad, distracted, and become a fool; they lamented because my freedom came.
They whispered against me in the vanity of their imaginations; but I inclined, mine ear to the whisperings of the spirit of truth.
I said what am I, that I should receive such honor; but he removed the mountains out of my way, and by his secret workings pressed me forward.
He gave me a reward, and behold I had done no work; wages, and I had not wrought in his vineyard. ■*
When the Lord quickened me, I called for obedience; he was pleased with my desire, and granted my request in the might of his power.
My Lord called and I heard his voice, but knew him not, for the darkness of ignorance had caused unbelief. I answered, who art thou, Lord, and he informed me by the living word of his love and mercy.
He gave me living faith to lay hold on his voice; and saving knowftdge to avoid the voice of the serpent.
He gave me joy which no tongue can express, and peace which passeth understanding.
My heart was melted with the height of comfort; my soul was immersed in the depths of love; my eyes overflowed with tears of greatest pleasure.
The men of the earth looked as on a man forsaken of hope, given up to fear, and surrounded with shame.
They said, Behold a man foolish in his imaginations, seeking after vanity, and given over to believe lies: but I regarded not; for I had the jewel in prospect, the promised land in view.
I followed the voice of the Shepherd, who gave me food according to my strength, and found all things even as he said of old.
He gave me power to open my mouth concerning things to come, and a name by which I shall be saved.
I will call for perseverance in the ways of life ; for the hidden manna day by day received.
My comforter also taught me to pray in knowledge as in faith; I begged Himself, and he gave me All.
He gave me power to do wonders also; to keep his commandments through his holy spirit, and to walk in the paths of righteousness with joyful songs.
I will call upon him in the days of temptation; and when I am in the shadow of death the Lord shall be my strength.
*He subsequently remembered this paragraph with instruction and encouragement, when he found it his duty to join the Society of Friends.