I am glad to make extracts from the sermons of many of my dear fellow helpers in the gospel, who have been working with me in this field of labour, and who have each,—one planting, and another watering, but God giving the increase;—been so honoured as to give suitable culture to a plant of the Lord, whom they will one day meet in glory, in the heavenly paradise. I also make these extracts, that we may be enabled to trace the means by which the mind of our departed friend, was furnished with food convenient for its growth in grace and holiness.
‘May 21. Attended the morning Prayer Meeting. Felt rather dead in prayer. May the Lord quicken my affections and warm my cold heart.’ ‘Mr. C. from Amos viii. 8, 9. Sermon on the Jews. He spoke much on the fulfilment of prophecy; the Lord, in various places, threatening to disperse and destroy this people, but not make a full end, &c. &c. O Blessed Lord, give me to live, that I neglect not this message, for if thou spared not the natural branches, neither wilt thou spare me if I neglect thy word. Lord, give me thy Spirit, and guide me in all my ways, for thy dear Son’s sake.’
Passing over other subjects, we may take the effect produced on her mind, by one of the social meetings before alluded to.
‘Monday Evening, Sept. 1. Attended Mrs. C.’s meeting. Mrs. C. spoke much of the Omnipresence of God. I felt the subject very much, and I was enabled to pour out my soul in prayer. Surely the Lord’s presence was with us at that time. O blessed Lord, keep me humble; empty me entirely of self, that my unworthy services may be acceptable in thy sight.’ It is plain by this passage, that she had felt the approach of temptation, but she met it in the spirit of watchfulness and prayer.
On another occasion, she says, ‘I attended the meeting. I trust the Lord was with our little party, and that he will hear and answer prayer. I feel my own weakness, and utter unworthiness in approaching thee, O Lord, but look thou in mercy upon me; pardon my sins, forgive my iniquities, and let not the imperfections of my prayers render them odious in thy sight. Thou Lord, knowest my weakness; O strengthen me that I may be enabled to confess thee with more boldness; but O keep me humble.’
‘Oct. 15. This Morning, the Rev. D. Hogarth preached from Malachi ii. 2, 3. O Blessed Jesus, do thou purify and cleanse my soul from the dross of sin, which I feel still hinders me from enjoying the light of thy countenance. O remove the veil from mine eyes, and sin from my heart, that I may see and understand what thy will is; do thou enlighten and guide me in thy way.’
An event now occurred in the family of Elizabeth Cullingham, of the deepest interest and importance. This was the death of her Father. On Monday, Jan. 8, 1838, about two o’clock in the afternoon, a foreign ship came in sight, and hoisted a flag for a Pilot. She was about ten miles from the shore, but although the weather was threatening, and the evening approaching, it seemed practicable to reach the ship; and as it was suspected, that others might be in the offing, which would likewise require assistance, two Pilots put off, with thirteen men in one yawl, and one Pilot with twenty-one in another. The dangers which might have terrified ordinary men, did not prevent these brave seamen from encountering the perils which threatened them in the way of duty.
It was a maxim of James Cullingham, that he ought, in his duty as a Pilot, to fear no danger, and that whenever others would take him, he should go. The yawls carried their mainsails at first, and expected to reach their object. But the vessel, instead of keeping its first course towards the boats, when they were five or six miles from the shore, stood out to sea. The yawls therefore, in their effort to reach the ship, were carried far from land,—and daylight drew to a close before the men were aware of their situation.
The wind meantime arose, and the snow drifted heavily. The greatest anxiety was soon felt by all on shore. The scene which presents itself on these occasions, may be conceived, but not described. Fathers, Mothers, Wives, Sisters, Brothers, and Children, are seen intently watching every change in the sky and waves, eagerly gazing upon the distance to catch a glimpse of the absent objects of their love: grasping every phantom of hope which may present itself; but at length—convinced by some undoubted sign, that they must hope no more.—Many are the vows which are then made; many are the prayers which are then offered. The watching and suspense, however, were in this case, soon at an end. At seven o’clock one of the yawls through great danger, reached the shore, and this left no doubt as to the loss of the other, in which was James Cullingham, and another Pilot. It is supposed this yawl, the ‘Peace,’ in endeavouring to get into the gat-way, had missed the light, it being thick with snow, that she got into broken water, and had gone down. But none were left to tell the tale of woe. The boat itself, sometime afterwards, was washed on shore, a complete wreck. Very few of the bodies were recovered: but amongst the number, that of James Cullingham was found, very remarkably, eight months afterwards. Twelve widows and thirty two children, were in consequence of this disaster, left destitute. This was, indeed, a night of agony, to numbers on shore. Still the possibility of escape presented itself to their minds, but it was hoping against hope. Yet was every one afraid of acknowledging to the chief mourners, what in their own minds was their fixed opinion, that no chance remained. None would, at all events, be the first to declare the awful truth to those broken hearted sufferers.
But there must have been a scene even more affecting than the one now recorded. In the boat were fifteen men, who were in the very jaws of destruction. One other heave of the impetuous sea, and their state was fixed, fixed for ever. Some of them, perhaps, had been drunkards, or Sabbath breakers, or neglecters of Religion; but now they were called at once to give account of what they had done, and what they had left undone, and nothing could be left, to which they might look forward, but the punishment which awaits the sinner. It is impossible to conceive a scene more really appalling, although outwardly its awfulness might be concealed by the anxiety and efforts which it caused. But to think of the never-dying soul, hitherto uncared for, unprepared with all its sins upon it, hurried in one moment into judgment, and to the wages of its transgressions, is awful indeed! What may have been the case of these men, the day of Judgment will disclose. “Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord.” That it was the portion of James Cullingham so to die, we can have no doubt. His faith, his converted heart, evidenced by his life, afford a warrant of good hope as to his condition. He lived to Christ, and death was doubtless gain to him. Whether at sea, or on his bed, he might sink in peace, for a joyful inheritance would await him.