Religion in Earnest: A Memorial of Mrs. Mary Lyth, of York

by J. Lyth

XXI.

THE WIDOW.

"SHE THAT IS A WIDOW INDEED TRUSTETH IN GOD; AND CONTINUETH
IN SUPPLICATIONS, AND PRAYERS, NIGHT AND DAY."—1 Tim. v. 5.

How often does it happen, that when death first enters a family circle, and creates a breach; it is the signal of its speedy dissolution! one falls, then another, and another, until the central point of attraction is removed; and the individuals who are left, are by the force of circumstances, each made to feel themselves the centre of a new circle of interests, which in time will melt away as former ones have done. The occurrence of such an event is to those immediately concerned a season of solemn admonition. The question instinctively arises, who next will fall? and each may put it to his own heart, "Lord, is it I?" The death of Mr. Jackson was the first breach in a family, which by God's blessing had for many years enjoyed a happy, and undisturbed unity. Twelve months had just elapsed, when Mrs. Lyth was called to mourn the loss of a husband; and we a father, whose retiring and unostentatious worth, was best known within the sacred precincts of home. Their union, at first entered into in the fear of God, had been maintained through the chequered scenes of life in uninterrupted peace; years had only more strongly cemented the bonds, by which they were united, and for nearly half a century the vow, "Until death us do part" had been annually renewed. A year or two before death dissolved the contract, it was found necessary to purchase a new wedding ring; and the aged couple, with an affecting simplicity, solemnly repeated the marriage ceremony in token of their unchanged, and unabated attachment: but the hour of separation was at hand.

"1853.—During the last six weeks, many circumstances have occurred for the trial of our faith and patience; which, through grace, I recognize as the appointments of mercy for my benefit. They have led me to rest more simply on Christ by faith, which 'is the evidence of things not seen, and the substance of things hoped for.' My soul pants after God. He is my centre, my joy, my crown. Nevertheless, my own unprofitableness would discourage me; therefore, stripped of all, I hang upon Jesus, my Saviour and my all.—Our highly esteemed friend Mr. Whitehead has passed from earth to heaven. Twelve days ago he called upon us, and conversed and prayed sweetly with my husband. Little did I think it would be his farewell visit.—My husband and myself are both invalids. He has had several attacks upon his chest, and much difficulty of breathing. At these times however, his expressions of confidence in God are unwavering. For myself, I want no other refuge, I only want more faith. I would be all the Gospel requires;—willing to live, ready to die, but oh! I see much imperfection.—These words are often running in my mind,—

'Until he doth the cloud remove
He only chastens whom he loves.'"

"My dear husband is increasingly ill. He told the Rev. Gervase Smith, who called in to see him, that fifty years ago, these words were blessed to him, 'By grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God.' Mr. Bourne visited us in our affliction. My soul truly rejoiced in the Lord, while His servant spake of the things of God, and prayed with us. I am much comforted by my husband's state of mind. Although this is a painful ordeal, through which I am passing, God is with me, and His grace supports me.—My husband is no better. When Mr. Eastwood inquired the state of his mind, he answered,

'For ever here my rest shall be.
Close to Thy bleeding side;
This all my hope, and all my plea,
For me the Saviour died.'"

"He cast upon me an expressive look—I thought he wanted something, and inquired. He replied, 'Bless you, bless you.'—Suffered much from oppression on the chest. His medical adviser promised to send him something, which would give him relief. He seemed very desirous of its arrival. In the meantime, we bowed our knees to present our case before God, and to ask His blessing upon the expected remedy; when in a few minutes the oppression, in a great measure, ceased. This was the Lord's doing, and to Him we heartily ascribe the praise.—The medicine continued the relief.—The Lord wonderfully supports my feeble frame, and I have increasing power to claim the promises made to His people, and by faith discover in them a greater fulness than ever. My friend R. informs me she has seen J.H., who had sent to request me to visit her. She wished to tell me the Lord had blessed her soul. May she be made fully meet for glory.—My husband still continues very ill. Had a distressing night. The enemy assaulted him. My faith seems to have no wings.—Enabled to rise.—I asked him if Christ was precious? He replied, 'Yes.' He is apparently near death. Hitherto my mind has been graciously supported though sometimes painfully exercised. He rallied again, and slept calmly for awhile. After tea, the difficulty of breathing returned. The Rev. David Hay came in, and prayed with him; also Mr. Thompson, a little after. It was evident the hand of death was upon him. He could scarcely bear us to speak. Once he said 'Mary'—perfectly recollected. Mr. Hill asked him, 'Is Christ precious?' to which he replied in the affirmative, and shortly after inquired, 'What o'clock is it?' The answer was given 'About ten;' and at eleven the 'weary wheels of life stood still,' and my beloved husband left me to mourn his absence. I sorrow, but not without hope; and hear a whisper in my heart, 'Thy Maker is thy husband, the Lord of Hosts is His name.' My mind is comforted; my resolutions are quickened; but my sense of abasement is great, at the little improvement I have made of such lengthened privileges. 'Enter not into judgment with Thy servant, O Lord.'"

[Her feelings under this painful bereavement were deep,—too deep for expression; but she maintained under it a calm spirit of resignation, which some might have mistaken for indifference. The writer sees her yet, as she stood for some minutes, pale and motionless, leaning on the side of the coffin, just before it was closed; and gazing in the face of the dead. There was no tear; she did not even imprint a kiss on the inanimate clay, for it was but the image of him whom she had loved. Her thoughts were in heaven. At length stroking the face, now insensible to her touch, she said, "Poor John, I shall soon meet you again.">[

"My dear John was consigned to his bed of dust, to wait until the resurrection morn. Mr. Bourne came home with us. His conversation helped to cheer the gloom of parting for a little season. My mind was consoled with the joyful hope of being guided through the wilderness by Him, who so condescends to a worm of earth as to say, 'Thy Maker is thy Husband.' Amazing love! I was again permitted to tread the courts of the Lord's house. Visited J.H. in the afternoon, and spoke plainly to her husband.—Met the dear people, but was far from being satisfied with myself. I want a stronger faith, and more ardent love to the souls of those who are committed to my care. My precious husband has now been fourteen days in the eternal world."

And can I wish him back,
Again to suffer here?
No! following on the track,
I haste to meet him there.

"My soul goes out after Thee, O God. Thou art my treasure in this vale of tears—my friend, my husband, my God, and my all.—Able to meet both my classes, and felt energy of spirit while urging on the members the necessity of keeping up communion with God; I requested them to give a quarter of an hour every day, to pray for the prosperity of their class, and of their own souls."

In the midnight of my grief,
Up to Thee, I lift my eye;
Grant, O grant me sweet relief,
Let me feel Thy presence nigh;
Nothing else can succour bring,
Here alone I rest my hope;
To Thy bleeding cross I cling,
Lift the drooping sinner up.

"I changed my residence for one in St. Saviourgate, near the house of God; for this I desire to be thankful, and to dedicate myself to the Lord; having sincerely sought His counsel and direction, I feel satisfied.

"Easingwold. We were much led out in prayer, that the Lord would this day bring some one to seek Him. In the evening three persons came in, one evidently desirous of salvation; may this encourage the efforts of thy handmaid to seek the benefit of the people in this place.—I feel much the absence of my dear departed husband. His memory is dear. O Lord, help me to quicken my steps to meet him in heaven. My body is trembling and feeble; but my soul is vigorous. I have to-day resigned my office of Treasurer to the Clothing Society, which I have held nearly sixteen years.—Six months since my husband entered into rest. He is daily in my thoughts; but I see him not. I do not wish him back again; a little time will bring me to him, and I shall be as learned as he. Time hastens on!—At ten o'clock Mr. C. changed worlds. Solemn hour! All the morning, I know not why, he was strongly impressed upon my mind.—I am alone, all is still, my soul feels after God. This day feed me with the riches of Thy grace, that I may abide in Thee, breathe Thy Spirit, live in Thy smile, and, like Apollos, be 'approved in Christ.'

"1854.—I would here gratefully record the mercy of God to me. I have been brought low—very low, but the Lord helped me. I felt no condemnation, yet but little sensible comfort. Many promises were constantly passing through my mind. Thus the Lord has been leading me by a path I had not known.—I have not been to the Sanctuary yet, nor would I rest in the means; but I want a clearer manifestation. I see the scriptures hold forth more than I possess; I want to be closer knit to Jesus, that I may bring forth fruit. Have declined the presidency of the sewing meeting."

[On this resignation a letter, numerously signed by the ladies composing the meeting, was sent to her, acknowledging her services, and regretting that increasing age and infirmities had rendered it necessary. This document is not forthcoming, but the following is her own reply.]

"MY DEAR MRS. HOLGATE,—I sit down to acknowledge with gratitude the kind note you presented me with, signed by so many kind friends, in acknowledgment of my poor services in a cause which lies near my heart. Thankful I am, that from a small beginning in our parlour, about seventeen years ago, this effort for the glorious cause of missions has flourished to this day; and that now so many hearts and hands are engaged in its operations and success. I still feel interested in its prosperity, and if I have one desire above the rest, it is that every one who assists in this good work may not only have her hands employed in it, but her heart enriched by the blessed gospel she wishes to send to heathen lands, and that every effort may have God's approving smile. I am, &c."

"I think I never felt more free to leave the world than now; and yet quite willing to wait the Lord's time, that I may be fully prepared.

"Acomb. Mrs. R. took me to see some sick persons, also some wayside hearers; 'but who is sufficient for these things?' Speak Lord, and let them hear Thy voice!—At the prayer-meeting after the service, a backslider was restored to the favour of God; I was knelt by her side, and a holy calm pervaded my heart, when suddenly my soul, as by an electric shock, was filled with confidence in the willingness and power of God to save.—Went to see some of my absent members; and passing by Mrs. O.'s, whose husband died about a fortnight since, I called to inquire after her, and to my surprise and grief, found her in dying circumstances. She died the same evening. I fear for her; yet she used to weep, and for a time seemed in earnest. Have visited her many times in her afflictions.—Calling in at a neighbour's shop for a trifling article, I learned that the daughter was depressed in mind; I felt a desire to see her, and asked permission, which was granted. After saying what was given me, I prayed with her, feeling sweetly assisted: when we arose from our knees she unburthened her mind, and told me she had 'grieved the Spirit' and now, not feeling His strivings, she had ceased to pray, and had given, up all. O that the Lord may bring her out of this snare of the devil!"

Hark, how they strike their harps of gold
In yonder world above!
I wonder what its scenes unfold,—
For not a thousandth part is told,
Of those bright lands of love,

Not long-ere wonder shall expire,
In sweet fruition lost;
My spirit, borne on wings of fire,
Shall mount, and revel, and admire,
With all the heavenly host.

"1855.—A letter reached us from my beloved Richard, bringing tidings of health, both of body and soul, and of his intended removal to Auckland; but holding out little prospect of his return to England, by the words 'if ever.' Thus is long cherished hope cut off, when I thought it about to be realized."

[About the beginning of this year she had a severe attack of bronchitis, and all hope of her recovery seemed cut off. Although able to say little, she maintained a calm and settled confidence in God, and was evidently longing after home. The morning after the crisis was past, the doctor said to her, 'Well, Mrs. Lyth, I have some hope of you.' She replied, 'So have I, but it is the other way.']

"After a sudden and severe attack of affliction, I would most gratefully acknowledge the merciful care of my heavenly Father, who has not left me, but comforted me by His word and Spirit. My friends also have not forgotten me; I have every comfort during this inclement season. The earth is covered with snow, the cold piercing, and the day gloomy; but mercy folds me in on every side, and my spirit rests on Jesus, my atoning Saviour. While I write, my heart warms and kindles at His love.—I am left alone this eighteenth of February, which, forty-five years ago, was so important. Well, it is written, 'Thy Maker is thy husband, the Lord of hosts is His name.' and to Him will I plight my vows. Alone, on my knees, I again surrender to Thee my poor heart, and again take the pledge of Thy love. From this time forth may I swerve from Thee no more, but walk my few remaining days with Thee; having the testimony that Enoch had, that I please God. And now I am Thine by solemn ties, in the solemn silence of Thy presence, all praise be unto Thee, who dost thus condescend to Thy dust.—Have just returned from a drive. The air is very sweet, and nature puts forth her loveliness. My soul was led out to Him who has prepared greater things than these for those that love Him. My spirit is revived. 'Bless the Lord, O my soul.'—Riding out yesterday, I called to see my dear friend Isaac, who, like myself, is waiting until her change come;—a touching little interview. She told me while she was praying for me in my affliction, it was impressed upon her mind, 'My power is unlimited.' O may it be exerted in my full preparation for eternal glory, to meet my dear friend there. I sometimes get transient glimpses of it. I feel myself a helpless worm, but the name of Jesus is sweet. There is none I desire in comparison of Him. Though I cannot get out I am able to read, and the word of truth is my constant companion.—A beautiful day: the sun shines in splendour, but sin spoils all the beauty. While my eyes are cheered with what I see, my heart is saddened with what I hear. One has fallen into sin,—one I have highly esteemed in time past. What need to put on 'the whole armour of God,' and watch!—I felt more vigorous in my classes to-day, and spoke very plainly, for I feel a great love for these souls.

"Thou art, O God, the life and light
Of all this wondrous world we see;
Its glow by day, its smile by night,
Are but reflections caught from Thee;
Where'er we turn Thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are Thine."

"I feel decaying nature; but my soul does not lose its appetite for divine things. In the midst of forgetfulness, and other infirmities, my only centre is in Christ.—As the day was fine, I walked to Heworth in search of an absent member, and after many inquiries, found out her abode; but she was not at home. I got some important information about her. My walk was a most impressive one,—on a lovely road, on either side overhung with foliage—but, being autumn, the way was strewed with withered leaves, while every breeze, though soft, wafted others to the ground in showers;—fit emblem of my own decay! I was much wearied.—The Rev. Robert Young, who has recently been on a deputation to the South Sea Missions, selected Fiji as the topic of his speech at the Missionary Meeting, and gave a very cheering account of my Richard, in the midst of cannibalism. I went into the vestry to speak with him; but was overwhelmed with my feelings. Have been laid aside by affliction; but the Lord has been intimately near. My faith has been strengthened, and I cling more closely to my best Friend. Many blessed promises have been brought to remembrance, which have cheered me, and created sweet peace.—My faith wants to borrow the pinions of the eagle. Lord help me, I am Thine; I dare trust in Thee; unprofitable as I am, Thou art my God.—My thought before I rose this morning was:—

Down life's declivity,
Borne by the surge,
On to eternity,
Swiftly I urge;
Not without cheering hope,
When I am gone,
Jesus will bear me up,
Straight to His throne."

1856.—[A few lines written at the commencement of this year, contain the following reference to a circumstance, which, trivial as it was in itself, had nearly occasioned the loss of her sight.]

Time rushes on! Another scene appears!
In springtide thought, I stood upon the hearth;
"When in a moment, from the crackling flame
A piece of burning ore flew in my eye,
And suddenly eclipsed the light of day.
But He who opened blind men's eyes of old,
Restored my sight. * * * *

"I am sensible of the want of gratitude for the sight I have; though it is but imperfect, I can, by close attention, read my Bible, which at first was all I desired.—Visited two of my members, each of whom has had a fit, one being deprived of the left hand, and the other of the right;—humbling cause of gratitude that I can use mine.

Youth with all its hopes is past,
And middle life-with care;
Now, in feeble age, I cast
My all on God by prayer.
Exiled yet a little while,
But guided by His eye;
Happy I live beneath His smile,
And happier still—shall die."

"My meditations this morning have been sweet, on the words, 'Thou shalt also be a crown of glory in the hand of the Lord, and a royal diadem in the hand of thy God.' I cannot increase God's glory; but I—a worm—in the hand of my God, become crowned with glory.—My niece Caroline has departed this life. In a lucid moment, one asked, if Christ was precious; she answered, 'Yes' It was added, 'Just such a Saviour as you need?' 'Exactly,' was the reply.—I have given up my own house, and removed to my daughter Eliza's hoping the blessing of the Lord will attend the change. My mind has, beyond my expectation, been preserved in peace.—Came with my daughter to Haxby, for the benefit of a change. O that Thou wouldst bless my coming to one soul!—Called upon Mrs. S., and was glad to find her desirous of knowing the truth, as also her daughter. I feel peculiarly drawn out in prayer, on behalf of the inhabitants of this village. Oh! that a glorious revival may break out here.—The means of grace are not so plentiful in Haxby as in the city; but here I enjoy the quiet of retirement, and breathe a purer atmosphere. Often the Spirit wafts me on to the better land, and I contemplate with pleasure my everlasting home."

[Who can tell what shall be on the morrow? But a few weeks elapsed after this visit to Haxby, when her daughter Eliza, whose loving and gentle spirit endeared her to all who knew her, was taken away at a stroke. On the day on which the following entry is dated, she had exhibited an unusual degree of vivacity; and with great confidence borne testimony in the class to the power of the grace of God.]

"A goodly number at the class. In the evening Eliza read to Mrs. C. and myself the interesting adieu of the French Protestant Minister, Adolphe Monod, introduced into the November number of the Methodist Magazine for 1856. We sat down to supper, and mournful to relate! she was seized with a fit of apoplexy, which lasted until nearly three in the morning, when her spirit calmly took its flight. How needful to be ready!—My dear daughter was carried to the cemetery, there to rest until the resurrection morn. While passing through this painful dispensation, I have enjoyed the sweet consolations of the Spirit of God, and been able to recognize mercy mingled with judgment. The same evening my Eliza passed into the skies, my son William was appointed to meet a few of the Lord's people.—The year heaves its last sigh, as I review the way in which God has led me. Very painful events have occurred. Scenes pleasant, and sad, have passed before me; but around, and over all, mercy has spread a cloud of light; and here will I raise my heart, and say, 'Hitherto the Lord hath helped me.'"