In 1846 she became an earnest and zealous follower of the Lord, and united with the African Methodist Episcopal Church in Gouldtown, of which the Rev. (now Bishop) A. W. Wayman was then pastor. She was converted during a period of affliction, and I think the lines written in that year and bearing the inscription "written after a time of affliction," page 129, are intended to commemorate that event. The second and third verses seem to describe the state of a soul passing from death to life, through faith in the gospel. She joined the church in October of that year, and seems to have commenced her labors at once. In the Sunday-school she became a teacher and was successful in that capacity in bringing many souls to Christ. It was her object to secure the conversion of every scholar committed to her care, and she seldom failed. She also became teacher of an adult Bible class, which met weekly at her house or the house of one of the neighbors; she managed for some time a weekly prayer meeting, composed of the female members of the church, and subsequently became an active member of the church aid society. Yet, with all this activity, there was no ostentation, no public show, no noisy parade, no extravagant shouting. She was an uncompromising opponent to woman's preaching, and to all of those mutual aid societies bearing high sounding titles. I think nothing could have induced her to countenance in any way the numerous "orders" which prevail so largely among our people, and she wore no badge, or jewelry. No rings were on her fingers or in her ears, and yet she affected no plainness of dress. She repudiated extravagance of all sorts, and sought to avoid everything which might render her noticeable. After five years of Christian life and labor she came forward as a candidate for baptism; for on this subject she entertained peculiar scruples. She was baptised in 1851, and surely none could have been more worthy. This rite was performed by Rev. Shepherd Holcombe in the church of which she had been a member five years.
She seems to have consecrated herself most fully to the Lord, and although she repudiated the theory of the "second blessing," yet she doubtless enjoyed all that the strongest advocates of that theory claim. She says in a letter dated February 13th, 1876, (see page 33), that she had laid all upon the altar, even her children, and she did not dare take them off! She counted herself as nothing, not even "worth a sacrifice," and was certainly all the Lord's. What does she mean by this? Seven days before in a scrap book containing numerous clippings she had written the following: "On this 6th day of February, 1876, I consecrate myself and all I have anew to the Lord. Many years I have been His; but I renew my covenant. All I have,—all my affections, all my wealth (what I have), all my labors, as far as I can understand, are His, to be used for His glory."
Mark, she says: "I consecrate myself, anew." She had been the Lord's before, for many years, and she now makes no new covenant, but she renews the old covenant. This was in strict accord with all her previous life, and although she advanced far towards the heights of holiness, she always turned away from the theory of special sanctification, regarding it as an error in doctrine and an unreality in experience; and yet none could have gone farther in consecration than herself. Every word of this declaration is solemn and sincere, and this consecration is without reserve. Here then is what she means by having laid her children on the altar and not daring to take them off.
During her remaining days my oldest sister writes: "She seemed more devoted, more perfected to our Heavenly Father's will than ever." Notwithstanding her feebleness she regularly attended the church on Sabbath mornings, and met the Sunday-school teachers once a week, going over the lessons and giving much valuable instruction. After the dismission of the morning service on Sabbath, she regularly met her class, and my sister, whose seat was near hers, writes: "Every Sunday she would say, 'I am trying to live a Christian; I wish to die a Christian and see what the end of a Christian life will be.' On the last Sunday she met the class, which was just one week and four days before she died—she seemed if possible, more devoted than usual and her words impressed me much. I did not think then that I should never hear her speak in class again."
My mother had read the Scriptures with great care and was not fully persuaded that infant baptism was therein taught, and although a Methodist, she hesitated to give her children to God and the church in this ordinance. Of her six children not one was baptised in infancy, nor did she teach them to "say prayers." It required great faith to depart from so general a custom, but being taught of God, she dared to do it. The reader will observe in my brother's poem, which actually reproduces the scenes of our childhood, that there is no picture of a child with clasped hands kneeling down and lisping his evening prayer by his mother's knee. No such picture was common there. Early in the days of her life as a mother she abandoned the custom. Prayerless the six children went to bed, and prayerless they went to their daily tasks, and this not through negligence but through principle. She thought "saying prayers" a grave species of trifling; and, as father worked sometimes nights and sometimes days, regularity in family prayer, if desired, could not be had. I am not certain that it was desired. Religion, not even in its forms, was forced upon the children but on the contrary it was rendered so attractive, that the children of that household would crowd around that mother in the evening and tease her to tell them a story. The story would always be told just before bed-time and would be likely to end with a solemn appeal to our consciences, the reading of a chapter from the old family Bible, a prayer and then all the children were hurried to bed. This was not a nightly occurrence, but seemed wholly dependent upon our asking. The stories were always from the Bible and to our little minds were wonderfully well told; often filling us with such hatred toward bad men, that on seeing their pictures we would wish to destroy them, and making us cry over those that had suffered.
Such was the character of the religious training she gave her household. I wish it were possible to obtain one of those stories just as she told it. The nearest approach to anyone of them is the little story about "Self" told with her pen many years later, when writing was to her a great difficulty, to two of her grandchildren. While it may be interesting, I am sure it bears but a faint comparison to those that her own children heard in their childhood from her own lips.
I had thought to pass over this part of my mother's work for fear it might not be understood; or that others attempting to imitate her herein might suffer great loss in their families. Where the religious care of the children is left to the mother, and she is not specially gifted, it is perhaps better to teach by rote and by form; but where conditions are otherwise, it is better to teach the children directly the doctrines of religion and let them make their own forms.
Religion and reverence for God and sacred things, then becomes a part of their nature and is more likely to be sincere.
Looking upon this life, shall we ask what there is in it which has won so much Christian admiration and entitles it to so much praise. I answer, it is found in her sincerity, purity and unconquerable faith. She believed God and believed every word of God. It is found in her abundant Scriptural knowledge qualifying her to believe intelligently; in her knowledge of persons acquired by habits of close observation; her knowledge of history and the natural sciences, and her general acquaintance with literature. These accomplishments united to the most modest demeanor, rendered her a woman of note and a Christian for whom any community, church or age might have been grateful. It is not mine to estimate her worth or paint her character. The homage which I bear her makes all praise seem tame. No words of mine can portray the excellencies which I attribute her. I leave therefore, the work of determining her great moral and Christian worth to more competent and less partial judges. To be permitted to wreathe any name with such garlands as are brought by the learned, the eloquent and the honored whose names adorn this book, is sufficient privilege to me. Her earthly fame I entrust to their keeping and through them to posterity. She enjoyed the testimony while on earth that her works pleased God and to Him who was her solace and stay in life, and her rod and staff in death; who gave her those shining qualities of head and heart, and preserved her to a life of usefullness, I commend not in hopeless sorrow but in hope of a glorious reunion her immortal and unburdened soul.
My task is done. I lay the tribute humble as it is, and as I feel it is, upon the fresh grave of my departed mother. May her example, her words, her suffering, her triumph, serve as happy angels, calling us to a higher and holier life, and to that reward which awaits on the other side the gates. Hear her words when entering death's vale: "The gates are hard to open, but there's glory on the other side!" Glory on the other side! And hard as it may have seemed to open the gates when at some distance, I doubt not as she drew near them that they opened of their own accord!