Sad, sad, are the recollections of the years from 1899 to 1904. I was taxed to my utmost for the enlargement of the Kingdom of Grace in my attempts to keep the young men and women from the sharks or pirates, who would have dragged them down to hell. Their great sin was that of Sabbath breaking. This led them to licentious living and almost every other crime of immorality. At the same time the hand of affliction was laid heavily upon me. And had it not been for the grace of God I should have sunken beneath the waves of affliction.
My daughter, Ada Augusta Newton Cooper, the wife of Rev. A. B. Cooper, died September 18th, 1899. She was thirty-eight years old. She was a devoted, loving daughter and faithful wife. She passed away at Orange, N. J., where she was engaged in her Christian activities. She was a consecrated worker, a proficient teacher, authoress, and a most valuable assistant to me for many years. She knew as well as I that my education was sadly deficient, that I had come out of the briars of slavery and all its curses, and in a very practical manner, she was my education. For I had spared no means to have her thoroughly educated. And always afterward she was conscious of the advantages that I had given her and was constantly trying to pay off this great debt of gratitude. But the time came when the Lord called her to a higher service. He had need of her in another part of His Kingdom and called her away. It is indeed one of the heavy crosses that we are called upon to bear, when the Lord calls away from us the children whom He has given us. Only those parents who have passed through these said afflictions know anything of the pains and suffering. I cried out, “Oh, Lord. I sink into the deep mire where no solid foundation is found. I have come into the deep waters where the floods overflow me. Save me, O, God, for the waters are overflowing my soul.”
On December 3, 1902, my devoted and loving son passed away. He had lived a consecrated Christian life. He died at the age of twenty-one years. He had taken a thorough course of training at Lincoln University, Pa., and had entered the ministry of the A. M. E. Denomination. He united with the Conference at Atlantic City and had been assigned to the charge at Sea Bright, N. J., by Bishop A. Grant. He was a loving son, fine scholar, strong preacher, and was beginning life with all the prospects of a great usefulness. But the frost of death rested on him and he went to sleep from the labors of the earth. But we are sure that he awakened in that bright and happy land where there is no death and that now he is engaged in a much larger and better service than any that he could have rendered here below. I shall see him again. We will soon meet to part no more. We will soon talk together again and thank God, with the assurance, that father and son will never be parted.
On February 8, 1904, my dear mother was called to the other home. This was the woman who had done more for me than all on the earth besides. She died at the age of ninety-two years. This, added to my other afflictions and to the weight of my labors, seemed more than I could stand. I had never realized what it was to be without a mother. Although at the age of sixty I was still a son. I had never forgotten that the law of my life was that of obedience. That it was my duty to honor my father and my mother. So that my years had nothing to do with the intensity of my filial love and devotion. I shall never forget her looks when dying, with her eyes fixed on me, she said, “Do the work of the ministry as becomes a minister of the Lord Jesus. See to it, that no disgrace is brought on the cause which you represent by your unworthiness.” To my brother Henry she said, “My work is done. Neither of you can do me any good. Be earnest and true to your trust, and meet me in the morning where parting is no more.” Then she sang with us:
“Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah,
Pilgrim through this barren land;
I am weak but Thou art mighty,
Hold me with Thy powerful hand.
Bread of Heaven!
Feed me till I want no more.”
“When I tread the verge of Jordan,
Bid my anxious fears subside.
Death of death and Hell’s destruction,—
Land me safe on Canaan’s side.
Songs of Praises,
I will give Thee evermore.”
Then she left us. And from that day until the day when I promised to meet her, I will be lonely without her.
On September 29, 1905, my youngest and last daughter fell asleep in the arms of Jesus. On the morning she left us I came to her bedside. Mrs. Jennie Wise Johnston, wife of the editor, Dr. H. T. Johnson, was sitting by her bedside holding her hand. She was rubbing her hands as if she could rub the warmth of life into them. The poor child cried out, “Papa, Oh, papa!” These were her last words, she could say no more. Oh those words, how they have rung in my ears and how the echoes have come to me out of eternity, “Papa, Oh, papa!” Her mother had stepped into another room to weep. I could not stand to see her die. The cares and toils and sacrifices which I had made for her, the love that had bound her to me, the joys which she had brought into my life,—and now that Grim Death should be choking her—was more than I could bear. I bowed my head and prayed and took the train for my appointment in Jersey City. When I arrived I was handed a telegram announcing that she had left us. I took the next train and came home. This daughter at the early age of twelve years, like my other children, had become a devoted Christian. Her early piety was marked and deep. She lived until she was twenty-seven years of age. She had been a teacher in the public school, Mt. Vernon St., Camden, for seven years, a skilled musician and a competent Sunday School worker.
In passing through all these afflictions, I learned that it was a great deal easier for one to say what he would do under such circumstances than it was to do what one ought to do. I had often said to many under the hand of affliction:
“Cast thy burden on the Lord, for He careth for you.”
I had never learned what that little word, “cast” meant. I found that it was no easy thing to cast my burden on the Lord. It was no easy thing to really say, “Thy will be done, not mine.” I would take these burdens to the Lord, but when I came away I would bring them with me. Ah! There is the point, I would bring them away with me! This I should not have done, but thank God, I am becoming able to leave my burdens with Him. I am too old to carry them now. And my dear reader, if you in early life can learn to leave your burdens with the Lord, you will have won the victory of victories. I know that these dear ones cannot come to me but I can go to them and it will not be long until I go.