'Gladly would I flee away,
Loosed from earth, no longer stay.'
She has given up all, and is now patiently waiting her dismissal. It is a privilege to sit by the bedside of one thus fully prepared, and sanctified through the merits of Christ. 'Glory be to God,' she exclaimed, 'though it has cost me many tears for my unfaithfulness, the Lord has forgiven me: yet I believe it will lesson that eternal weight of glory I might have had.' Being asked if she had no wish for earth, she replied, 'O no, not one: I have but one wish, and that is, to be fully ripe for glory:' and added, 'I should like to talk to you of the preciousness of Jesus, but I cannot.' While we were alone, she stretched out her withered arms, and drew me to her side; then holding me fast, she said, 'Let me request of you, my dear cousin, that you will stay a little with my sisters when I am gone: it is my dying request.' I promised I would, if possible. Could I do less? She added, 'they have no one to comfort them, and, when they are low, they are very low indeed: it will relieve my mind if you will.' O Thou, whose I am, and whom I serve, direct my way. I have said, place me where Thou wilt, only let Thy providence guide my steps.—I left my William poorly, and am hoping soon to hear from home: meanwhile, I am encouraged while bringing them to the throne of grace. Thank God, for the privilege of casting my care upon Him! I feel He cares for me. Prayer by the side of my afflicted cousin has been a blessing to my soul. Surely I am privileged:—
'The chamber, where the good man meets his fate,
Is privileged beyond the common walk
Of virtuous life, quite on the verge of heaven.'
This morning, when asked how she was, she replied, 'This has been a precious night; the Lord has promised me, He will be with me to the end.' Her cough was very troublesome, but she said, 'I feel no disposition to murmur, but I cannot help moaning. The Lord is very precious.' Part of the day she lay greatly composed, with her hands clasped. On entering the room she accosted me with: 'I am hard toiling to make the blest shore. I have been much harassed by the enemy, who tells me I shall be cast away; but I rest on the blood and righteousness of Christ: I have nothing else to trust in.' After a severe fit of coughing she said, 'The toil of life will there be o'er:' and again, 'Thankful I take the cup from Thee,' &c. In the afternoon I visited old Martha H., whom I found in a happy, and thankful frame of mind; all her cry is, 'Bless the Lord! bless the Lord!' So, at both ends of the village, God is fitting up His jewels. I walked on to the churchyard, and there found as many of my old acquaintances, as are now living in the village. I felt the solemn influence of association with the dead.—Hearing of a poor afflicted sinner, I went to see him; he appeared to welcome my visit, but insensible to his condition. During the night I could not sleep, but got upon my knees, and earnestly besought the Lord to give me a clear witness of His sanctifying power. He blessed me with a humble, settled confidence, and sweet peace.—Cousin had a restless night; the enemy was again permitted to try her sorely; but during the day, she was enabled to tread him down under her feet. 'I'll trust Him with my all,' she said, 'I'll trust Him with my all.'—The poor man above-mentioned, sent for me, apparently in an agony for the salvation of his soul; but whether it is the fear of death and its consequences, or sorrow for his sin, how difficult to determine! I endeavoured to show him that he was a helpless, undone sinner; and that all his hope was in the merits of Christ: staid with him nearly two hours, during which he seemed earnestly seeking mercy. I saw him again in the afternoon, but he was not in such agony. He thinks the Lord will not cast him off. The thought of the dying thief, alone, gives me room to hope.
Oh! would'st Thou, Lord, the veil remove,
And manifest Thy pardoning love.
But how? Only through Christ, wilt Thou exalt the riches of Thy mercy by preparing this poor sinner's heart, and snatching him as a brand from the burning.—Visited the poor man again, and came home thankful, that I had the opportunity to do it. He now resolves on the side of virtue. Oh! that his decision may be sustained by the strength of the Lord!—Cousin was oppressed with sickness during the night, but her cry was; 'Help me to suffer as a Christian.'—When I asked how she was, she said, 'I have had a sweet night-so many precious promises brought to my mind. Praise the Lord; 'to them that believe, He is precious.'—Much worse, able to say little. In the evening she desired me to pray; it was truly a blessed season. When I rose, she exclaimed:
'We'll shout by turns the bursting joy,
And all eternity employ
In songs around the throne!'
'Glory be to God, cousin, we shall; yes, we shall.'—This morning I awoke a little before three, and got upon my knees. He, who slumbers not, was present to bless me. At ten I accompanied my friends to chapel: a blessed sermon! I was so much affected while Mr. C. was speaking of the Lord's ability to deliver us from our spiritual foes, that I could do nothing but weep for joy. My enemies seemed all vanquished, by the revelation which my faith realized of the power of God.
'Faith, mighty faith, the promise' saw.
O may I never doubt again. I feel all peace, and tranquility, but no particular joy: I perceive myself nothing; but through the blood of Jesus, I claim salvation. Elizabeth is increasingly weak, but enjoys great peace. She was unable to turn herself; but after an ineffectual attempt, upheld by the power of God, she exclaimed, 'Praise the Lord! I cannot praise Him enough: though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.' This evening I overheard, 'Precious God,' 'Salvation,' 'My Jesus.' Then turning her head, she said, 'Since I have been afflicted, the enemy has tried many ways to take away my shield; but the Lord has stood by me, and I believe I shall come off more than conqueror.'—About two o'clock we thought she was dying; she stretched out her hand to each of us, and drew us near, to kiss her; then shouted as loud as she could, 'Glory be to God! I am going to glory; glory be to God!' About five she revived again. One said, 'Jesus is near,' she responded, 'Glory, He is, He is'—I was with her from two in the morning; she was restless, and in much pain, until about nine o'clock; when she changed for death. Conscious that she was dying, she desired to be placed in a chair, and shouted with all the strength she had, indeed louder than we could have supposed her capable of, 'Glory be to God!' 'Glory be to God!' many times, until her strength was exhausted. She breathed till eleven, and then, without moving hand or foot; without a sigh or a groan; her happy spirit took its flight to the paradise of God. Thus died Elizabeth Stables, in the thirty-fifth year of her age. It had been for some time my prayer, that the Lord, if it pleased Him, would grant her an easy passage, and permit her to depart in the day-time. In this He has mercifully heard me. Before the crisis arrived, I felt a degree of timidity; and therefore, when I rose from my bed, I bowed myself before the Lord, before entering the room. He graciously dispersed my fears, and filled my heart with peace. To me the scene of dissolution was exceedingly solemn. May my last end be like hers!—I followed the remains of dear Elizabeth to the grave, to which we consigned them 'in sure and certain hope of a joyful resurrection.' Surely this hope has preserved me from yielding to useless tears, as on former occasions;—for I loved her. Henceforth may it be my constant study to be found ready, that, like her, I may triumph in the prospect of dissolution.—Visited two or three afflicted persons in the village, perhaps for the last time: may I find them all again in the day of eternity. Took tea with Mrs. B. and her daughter, whom I would gladly have persuaded to accept the offers of mercy; but the grace of God alone can affect the heart.—After an absence of six weeks I returned home: the day was fine. Truly mercy follows me. Through courtesy to a friend, I wounded my own soul by yielding to converse on subjects, which no way tended to promote fervency of spirit. I felt humbled in consequence, and as if I could not lift my heart to God; but before the close of the service, which I afterwards attended, the Lord graciously softened my hardness down—melting me into tears.—I close the year fully bent upon giving myself to God. While I write, I enjoy peace. O Thou that seest me, Thyself unseen, direct my pen, and guide me to Thyself. Here on my knees I surrender myself to Thee; if Thou discoverest any guile in me, reveal it to me, and make me wholly thine. Surrounded with Thy presence, O fill me with Thy love! From henceforth, may I dwell in the secret place of the most High, and abide under the shadow of the Almighty.