A BRAND PLUCKED OUT OF THE FIRE.
While occasionally serving a destitute Church, between three and four months ago, I was requested to visit a dying woman. I found her in the most distracting agony of bodily pain, but rejoicing at the same time in the consolations of the Gospel. My visits afforded me much pleasure and edification. Being informed that she had been once a most abandoned character, I solicited a friend to collect from her own mouth the history of her life, and since her death have been favoured with a very interesting and circumstantial account of this monument of mercy.
When young she was deprived of both father and mother, but by friends was introduced into a genteel family, where after some time she fell into shameful sin. Her friends abandoned her in her disgrace, but after she had endured much suffering, privation, and want, they were persuaded to receive her once more, and at length provided another eligible situation for her. Thus restored, she might have lived in respect, but a particular circumstance which should operate as a warning, especially to servants, led her into a more dreadful course of iniquity than ever she had been guilty of before.[12] On the Lord's Day, instead of going to any place of worship, she contracted the habit of spending those sacred hours at the house of an acquaintance. Here she formed her most fatal connections, and to this sin of Sabbath-breaking she especially attributed her ruin. A bad man persuaded her to accompany him to London. Here for some years she lived a most profligate life, the circumstances of which cannot be detailed here, further than that sin which brings its own reward found her deserted, and in the Lock Hospital. After a dreadful operation she somewhat recovered, and went out, but only to follow her old sinful course. She was scarcely known to be sober for six years together. Her wretched course of life was a continual burden to her. She often prayed, if such an one could be said to pray, that God would deliver her from it, and accompanied her prayers with resolves to forsake it; but all her resolutions were ineffectual till God's time of deliverance was come. At length she determined to return into the country again. She met with many distressing circumstances by the way, and upon her arrival, her friends would not receive her. She was therefore obliged to apply to the parish, being incapable of getting her living through her disordered state of body. The overseers provided her a room in a house with another woman, where, soon after she arrived, her complaint assumed an alarming nature, and threatened speedy dissolution. In the awful prospect of death she was seized with the most distracting horrors. Calling to the woman with whom she lived, she cried, "I shall soon be gone, and hell will be my doom!" The woman told her she was mad, but she replied, with earnestness, "I am not. I know it will, for I am not prepared to die"; and immediately asked her if she knew where any minister lived? She had heard some whom they called "Methodists" while in the hospital at London. Even then she could not laugh at them as many of her unfortunate companions did, but was often much affected by their prayers and sermons, and looked upon them as men living in the fear of God. The recollection of this suggested the eager inquiry after them now. But the woman said, "They cannot save your soul."
"SHE PROCURED A LODGING WITH A SERIOUS FEMALE." (See page 230.)
"I know they cannot," she replied, "but they can pray with me and for me to One who can. Go instantly and fetch one, for I am going to hell."
The woman still continued to laugh at her, and told the neighbours she was deranged. One of them, however, more compassionate than the rest, coming in, said she knew a good man who lived near. He was not a minister, but she would go and fetch him.
"Make him promise to come," said the poor creature, "before you leave him, and then, if he be a good man, he will come." While the person was gone, she cried to the Lord to send him.