BROUGHT TO THE FOLD.
Louisa Ann Jeeves, of Pewsey, Wilts, died on March 24th, 1888, aged twenty-four years. She sat under the truth until she was about twenty, when she left the place for a short time. But, when taken seriously ill, it appears that the Lord laid the weight of her sins upon her, and she felt that she had slighted the means of truth, which was a trouble to her. The clergyman called, and wished to administer the Sacrament to her, but she refused, and told him she dare not, for she had not felt the pardon of her sins. From this time she sank very low, and felt her sins to be a heavy burden. She now eagerly read her Bible, in which she marked many portions. Her bodily sufferings were very great, but she bore them without a murmur. Her sins, and the state of her soul before God, seemed always uppermost.
I had known her from a child, and hoped there was some good thing in her; but when she left the place of truth, I was afraid my hope was vain.
I visited her often after my return to Pewsey, and found her in great concern about her soul. She said she knew that nothing but an application of the blood of Christ could suffice for her great sins, and this she longed to feel. She asked me to read and pray with her, which I was enabled to do, believing the Lord had given her true conviction of sin. Each time I called she was greatly distressed, and seemed without hope; and this went on until the last week of her life, when she begged me to stay with her altogether, and whenever we were alone she wished me to read and pray. She would cry out in agony, "Oh, what shall I do if I don't get to heaven?"
On the Tuesday, when she had been greatly tried, this word was brought with comfort to her mind, "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." I said, "If the Lord has given you those words, He will, in His own time, bless you with pardon and peace"; and, as she was drawing near her end, I said, "When He comes, if you are unable to speak, raise your hand." But the next day the Lord was pleased to bless her soul with joy and peace. She called for her mother, and when she came, she said, her face at the time beaming with joy, "Oh, mother, I am so happy! I am going home to be with Jesus! He has put away all my sins by His own precious blood, and you will come, too." She would have us sing some hymns, herself joining in while able—among others, "How sweet the name of Jesus sounds," and "Rock of Ages." When we had finished one she named another, and said, "Beautiful! beautiful!"
She gradually sank, but the fear of death was taken away. She was quite conscious to the last, and turned her head to look at the clock several times. The enemy of souls was not permitted to harass her in her last hours, and just before she breathed her last, she raised her arms and clapped her hands three times, evidently remembering what I had said to her. It may be truly said, she died in peace. She was a constant reader of the Little Gleaner.
C. G.
To lay the salve of our services upon the wound of our sins is as if a man who is stung by a wasp should wipe his face with a nettle.