The hill country of Judea, which furnished a home for the virgin
mother of our Lord, is not the only rural region from whence have come
women endowed with intelligence and integrity, philanthropy and
religion, who by pen and tongue have brightened and blest the hearts
and homes of thousands. Nurtured amidst the wilds of nature, instead
of the bustle and bewildering attractions of city life, they have
grown strong to do battle for the right and to bear testimony to the
truth as it is in Jesus. Of this class is the one whose life and
labors we are now to consider.
Memphremagog is an enchanting lake, two-thirds of which lie in the
Eastern Townships of Canada, in the Province of Quebec, and the upper
third in Vermont. Its extreme length from north to south is about
thirty miles, its breadth varying from one to three miles. It is
semi-circular in form and bestudded with islands; while on its western
shore rise mountains of no ordinary attractions, among them Owl's
Head, which towers about 2,500 feet above the surface of the lake,
affording from its summit a panoramic view of surpassing loveliness.
It was at "The Outlet" of this lake there was born, Oct. 27, 1834,
Helen Mar, the youngest daughter of Abel B. and Polly JOHNSON; and
there she spent--with the exception of the time devoted to attending
or teaching school--almost her entire life. Of cities she knew nothing
by experience; but as her reading was extensive she knew much of the
world by mental surveys. The book of Nature was her delight. Its
illustrations of stones and streams, lakes and rivers, mountains and
forests, birds and flowers, were ever attractive to her. At an early
age she began to exhibit rare poetic talent. Of "a number of short
pieces, written between the ages of twelve and fifteen years," the
following, entitled "The Forest," has been preserved. It appeared in
the _Stanstead Journal_--a paper to which she afterwards frequently
contributed. It was probably the first article she ever had printed.
"Let others seek sweet friendship's voice
When grief the spirit bends,
Let them find solace in the tones
Of their beloved friends;
But oh! when sorrow o'er me broods,
Give me the dark, the dark green woods."
"When pleasure lights the sparkling eye,
And swells with rapture proud,
Let others spend their joyous mirth
Within the giddy crowd;
But when o'er me no clouds are seen,
Give me the forest, dark and green."
"When pure devotion fills the heart,
And breathes a yearning prayer,
Let others wander to the church
And pay their tribute there;
But if o'er me such feelings steal,
In the dark forest let me kneel."
"When death comes o'er the pallid brow
To number with the dead,
Let others choose some lovely grave,
Where tears will oft be shed;
But let me, let me find a tomb
Deep in the forest's darkening gloom."
Her life was not one of thrilling adventure, hairbreadth escapes, and
deeds securing worldly applause, but quiet, unobtrusive and useful.
Her constitution was naturally weak--her brain too active for her
body, and as a consequence much mental and physical suffering was her
portion. To her studies--French, Latin and drawing, besides the
English branches--she was very devoted. Nothing pleased her better
than to be alone with books, pen and pencil, or to wander forth in
garden or field. Being of a very bashful and retiring disposition she
felt alone even in company. Her diary leaves give evidence of this.
Under date of June 19,1852, for example, she writes:
"How lonely I feel to-day! and my rebellious heart will repeat the
question, Why was I created thus? I stand alone, and why? I know it is
my own self that makes me so; but how can I make myself otherwise? I
have tried very, _very_ hard to overcome my--what shall I call it?
bashfulness? It seems as though it could not be wholly that. I
have seen those the world called _bashful_, but they were not at
all like myself. Oh, no; I am wretched at times on account of this
----. When I see myself all alone--different from those around me--I
cannot stay the burning tear though I would gladly repress it. I
cannot soothe the anguish that fills my heart, and yet I feel that
this is wrong,--that it ought not to be thus. Why should I feel so
keenly that I am _alone_? that I am strange? Earthly scenes will soon
be over, and if I am only a Christian I shall never feel alone in
heaven. Oh, glorious thought! there will be no strange being there. O
God, prepare me for that blissful world and I will no longer complain
of my loneliness on earth--no longer sigh that I am not like others."
At this time Miss JOHNSON was not a professed Christian. Her parents
had endeavored to bring her up in the fear of the Lord and a belief of
the gospel, and to attend the services of the sanctuary. Her life had
been one of strict morality. She believed in God but had not taken
Christ as _her own personal Saviour_ and confessed him before men
as she felt she should. Her conviction of sin however was deep and
pungent. On another day in the same month, she says:--
"O Earth, thou art a lovely place, and some of thy inhabitants are as
lovely and happy as thyself. See that beautiful bird, with shining
plumage and brilliant crest, and hear the melodious notes that arise
from its silvery throat! Its form proclaims beauty, and its song
happiness. See those snow-white lambs skipping over the verdant
grass,--now nestling sportively beside their bleating mothers, then
springing forward, bounding from knoll to knoll, and filling the air
with strains of joy and delight! See yonder butterfly weighing itself
upon that brilliant flower: his gorgeous wings are expanded and
glittering in the sun like sparkling gems! See those bright-eyed
children! their glowing cheeks, their beaming eyes, and above all
their clear and merry laugh proclaiming happiness pure and unbounded.
Earth is truly lovely, but its inhabitants are not all happy. Oh no,
not _all_, for one who loves the beauties of earth, rejoices in the
loveliness of nature, and finds her chief pleasures in the spreading
grove, by the babbling brook, among the brilliant flowers, is sad and
unhappy. And why? Because she has learned too soon that there is no
such thing as [real and abiding] happiness on earth, that the fairest
plants wither, that pleasure is a deceitful phantom-false and
fleeting. Truly she has learned all this, and will she _never_ learn
to raise her eyes to that bright world where true happiness only
resides, and to trust meekly in Him who is the only Dispenser of peace
and joy?"
Later we have another entry in which, after again referring to the
beauties of nature, she exclaims:
"O life, life! I fain would read thy mysteries: I fain would draw
aside every vail and behold for what purpose I was created. Was it to
be an heir of sorrow? was it to live for myself alone, and then pass
away and let my memory perish with me? No, I was born for a better--a
higher and more holy purpose. I was not born to pass a few moments on
the stage of life and then disappear forever.... With a shudder I turn
away and would gladly forget to think. O thought, thought! thou wilt
distract me,--thou hast almost hurled reason from her throne. Thou
bitter tormentor! depart, if but for a moment, and let me once more
find peace. But no; the more I seek to elude still nearer the demon
pursues. O thought, thought! it rushes forth from my soul like the
wild outpourings of the volcanic mountains and overwhelms me with its
burning tide till body, mind and soul--all, all are exhausted and lie
like a straw upon the roaring bosom of the deep. Oh, that I could
arise, mingle with the gay, and forget my own deep and overpowering
thoughts. But no; such thoughts, like the soul which gave them birth,
can never die. O thought, what art thou? A blessing to angels, a curse
to me. Distracted soul, sink into repose: others are happy, and wast
thou born to be more wretched than they? Truly thou wast, and why?
Because thou livest only in the regions of thought--_thought_ which is
burning my brain and piercing my lacerated heart. And yet a thought
freighted with light beams through the dark clouds which its darker
sisters have thrown around me, and the only inscription which it bears
is, _'Live for others.'_ And another thought follows in rapid
succession,--like a far-off echo it repeats the words of its
predecessor, 'Live for others,' and then adds (while a vivid flash of
the lightning of truth lights up the darkness of error), 'Live for God
and for heaven.' A loud crash follows. Peals of thunder shake the
atmosphere of my soul! _Self_ has fallen: _I will live for others, for
God and for heaven._"
This was a grand resolve; but not yet was the soul to be out of
prison, the pilgrim to be freed from the Slough of Despond. Once more
she has to write:--
"Everything is beautiful, and all nature is glad and rejoicing. Arise,
my soul, and be thou glad likewise. Cast off thy gloomy fears. The God
who made all the beautiful things by which thou art surrounded is not
unmindful of thee. Oh, wondrous condescension! God is not forgetful of
_me_. He gazes upon me with an eye of compassion; he pities my
distress and my weakness. Amazing love! Oh, that I were more worthy of
it; Oh, that I loved him as fervently as I ought! But my heart is
callous, and I am nothing but a poor, cold, vile and helpless sinner:
nothing but sin _dwells_ hi my heart. It is the seat of every vice,
every evil thought, and every depraved passion. [Jer. 17:9, 10;
Mark 7:21-23]. Dark and gloomy clouds envelope my soul. A weight of
sorrow presses upon my heart, and I vainly strive to free myself from
its influence. Everything looks dark. 'My God, my God, why hast thou
forsaken me? why art thou so far from helping me?' 'How long wilt thou
forget me, O Lord? forever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me?'
'Mine iniquities are gone over my head: as a heavy burden they are too
heavy for me. Lord, all my desire is before thee; and my groaning is
not hid from thee. Make haste to help me.' 'My soul fainteth for thy
salvation, but I hope in thy word.' O my God, hear my cry, and answer
my petition."
"_Tuesday_, _June_ 29, 1852. The sultry fires of the day have yielded
to the cool breezes of evening. A misty cloud hangs over the once
azure sky, and the deep, heavy roar of thunder shakes the quiet air.
Nearer and nearer still it rolls its deep-toned voice, and all nature
seems to reply. The vivid lightnings flash. The fountains on high are
opened, and the rain pours down in torrents. Wilder grows the storm:
the winds are released from their 'prison-cave,' and armed with fury
they rush madly forth; brighter the lightnings glare, louder the
thunders roar. The whole fabric of nature seems in commotion! Oh, who
can gaze upon such a scene without emotions of awe, wonder and
admiration? Surely such an one must possess a stony heart and a cold
nature. There is beauty for me in the lightning's glare--there is
music in the thunder's peal! God grant that there may be beauty and
glory for me in the day when the thundering notes of the last trumpet
shall shake the heavens and awaken the sleeping dead,--when 'the
elements shall melt with fervent heat,' and every soul of every tribe,
and tongue and nation shall stand before the judgment-seat to receive
their final doom! O grant that the Judge may be my friend, and that I--the
poorest, the lowest, the vilest of sinners--may find a seat at
his right hand; and the vaults of heaven shall forever ring with the
praises of a redeemed sinner, saved only through the grace and blood
of the crucified Saviour."
But the hour was at hand when there was to come such relief to the
troubled soul as it had never before experienced,--when the divine
Comforter was to take of the things of Christ and reveal them to the
longing heart,--and this maiden avow herself before the world a
disciple of Christ. How was this to be effected?
Sunday, July 25, I had an appointment to preach in Magog, and after
the forenoon service expected to baptize a young lady who had been a
schoolmate of Miss JOHNSON. In view of that arrangement I urged that
they should both go together in the ordinance, but could get no
encouragement that it would be so. We went to the church, where I
preached from Col. 3:1-4, and after sermon announced the hymn,--
"Gracious Lord, incline thine ear,
My request vouchsafe to hear;
Burdened with my sins, I cry,
Give me Christ, or else I die.
* * * * *
Father, thou hast given thy Son,
Bruised for sins--that I have done;
To that refuge now I fly;
Christ is mine--I shall not die."
The effect and what followed I will allow her to relate in her own
words:--
"Oh, the _agony_ and the _perfect peace_ that I have this day enjoyed!
The agony in the morning was almost insupportable. It seemed then
utterly impossible for me to take up so heavy a cross as to follow my
Saviour in the ordinance of baptism. The very thought was dreadful,
and yet I knew that it was my duty. I felt that the anger of God would
be kindled against me,--that his Holy Spirit would not always strive
with me. I threw myself upon my knees; but could find no peace there
as long as I continued proudly obstinate. I started from my knees and
seized 'the holy Book of God'; but there was nothing there to comfort
me. I paced the room hurriedly, at every step exclaiming, 'What shall
I do?' and yet I knew what to do, but would not do it. Thus the
morning passed away, and trembling with emotion I entered the house of
God. The sermon seemed designed expressly for me. At its close I grew
more agitated. The last hymn was read, and after singing we were to
repair to the water, where one happy being was to follow her blessed
Saviour into a watery grave. Oh, I shall never forget that hymn,--
never, no never. The closing line of each verse seemed as an echo from
my own heart, 'Give me Christ or else I die'; but as the last line of
the last verse fell upon my ear--_'Christ is mine. I shall not die_,"
--I think that then I did truly feel determined to come boldly forth
and claim the precious promises of God _as my own_.
"We sought the water's side, when Josephine asked me in a trembling
voice if I would be baptized. I thought she expected an answer in the
negative--at least I knew that she might reasonably expect it, for I
had told her plainly in the morning that I could not. My heart was too
full to speak: I only bowed my head in token of assent. I shall never
forget the look of joy that beamed in her countenance, nor the
emotions that filled my own bosom. I saw Eliza enter the water. Oh,
glorious sight! I never saw, never imagined so beautiful a scene.
Every fear vanished, every cloud withdrew from my soul, and I
_longed_ to enter the waving flood. O my Saviour! I did not enter
it alone. Surely it was nothing short of the almighty arm of God that
supported me then. I never in all my life had so little fear of man: I
had _no fear_ then. Truly it was a foretaste of heaven. Oh, happy,
thrice happy moment! it was worth a whole lifetime of sorrow. If I
could always feel as I did then my heart would never again be bowed
down with grief: but that very afternoon Satan began to whisper: 'You
will not live up to your profession; you have deceived yourself and
others; you are still a wicked creature; you are not a Christian'; and
yet by the grace of God I was able, in some degree at least, to resist
him.
"When I partook of the Lord's supper I felt a repetition of the
happiness I had while obeying the command of my Saviour and following
him into a watery grave. How vividly the last supper which Christ
partook of with his disciples presented itself to my mind! and then I
looked forward with joyful hope to the day when all the saints of God
shall eat bread in his glorious kingdom,--when all of every age and
clime shall be gathered around the table, and Jesus Christ himself be
in their midst. It was a soul-inspiring thought, and for all the
wealth of a thousand worlds like this I would not have been absent
from that communion--from which I had so often absented myself. Yes; I
had never before partaken of the Lord's supper; and it was my own
wicked heart which had kept me away, for God had called loudly upon
me, and his Holy Spirit had again and again striven with me. Oh, what
a sinner I have been, and what a longsuffering God! I wonder that he
did not cast me off forever. Oh, what mercy I 'Bless the Lord, O my
soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O
my soul, and forget not all his benefits.' And now, have I forsaken
all for Christ? Have I thrown myself--body, soul, and spirit--upon the
altar? I do want to sacrifice everything for Christ, and _by the
grace of God_ I will perform the following:--
"1. When my duty appears plain I will do it, whatever may be the
consequences.
"2. I will never be ashamed to confess Christ before the world.
"3. I will consecrate my talents entirely to the Lord.
"4. I will never employ my pen in writing anything which I might
regret at the bar of God.
"5. I will never permit any one of my compositions to be printed
unless I can in sincerity ask the blessing of God to attend it.
"6. As I shall be brought into judgment for every idle word I say, I
will endeavor never to engage in trifling conversation, but on every
proper occasion to speak of the wondrous grace of God.
"7. I will, whenever a good opportunity occurs, warn my young
companions to flee from the wrath to come.
"8. I will strive to set my affections on things above, not on things
on the earth.
"9. By the assistance of the Holy Spirit I will endeavor to keep evil
thoughts out of my heart, and to meditate upon the law of God.
"10. I will never pass a day without seeking some secret place at
least twice a day, and pouring out my soul in prayer to God.
"11. I will study the Holy Scriptures, and endeavor to understand what
I read.
"12. I will try to do all I can.
"O God, assist me to perform what I have written in thy fear and to
thy glory. I am perfect weakness: but 'thou knowest my frame, thou
rememberest that I am dust.' I know thou art merciful; Oh, give me a
more exalted faith. Help me to come boldly forward and claim thy
promises as mine. Humble my pride; keep me at thy feet; let not the
temptations of Satan overcome me, but may I trust myself in thine
arms. May I love thee fervently, above everything else--better, far
than my own life. I can do nothing unless thou dost assist me. Oh,
support me, and save me at last in thy kingdom, for Christ's sake."
In the evening of that ever memorable Sabbath she offered aloud a few
words of prayer at the family altar, and next day (as she was then
teaching) had prayer in her school: thus she "confessed with the mouth
the Lord Jesus" while in her heart she believed that God had raised
him from the dead (Rom. 10:9). Immediately after the Son of God
himself was baptized, he was in the wilderness "tempted of the devil";
it need not be thought strange therefore if his followers soon after
their baptism are also grievously assaulted by the same adversary.
This young Christian did not escape him entirely; yet from that day
until her death, though conscious of much weakness and imperfection,
having many dark days and great sufferings, she never renounced her
allegiance to the King of kings, who had bought her with his blood. A
few more selections from her diary will show the working of her mind
about this time.
"_Aug. 7._ A calm and quiet morning. A soothing calm steals over
my soul. Faith, with triumphant wing, rises far above, the scenes of
earth and points to that glorious world where Christ pleads for me
before the throne of his Father. The doubts which have so long filled
my heart are sinful and dishonoring to God, and I will no longer give
place to them: I will look away from myself--from my sins--to the
holy Lamb of God. I will trust wholly in him and in his merits alone
for acceptance."
"_Sunday, Aug. 8._ What I have done to-day would once have seemed
impossible, the cross that I have taken up would have seemed almost
insupportable. I could not have believed the last time I attended the
prayer-meeting that at the next one I should stand up as a witness for
Christ. But thank God! my proud heart has in some degree been humbled,
and the dearest hope I now cherish is, that Christ may not be ashamed
to confess me before his Father and all the holy angels."
"_Aug. 22._ While standing this evening by the grave of one
dearly beloved in life, and cherished more fondly now that death has
taken her from my embrace, I could not stay the soaring flight of
fancy, which would portray to my mind in vivid colors our meeting at
the great Resurrection morn; and the thought that that meeting was so
near--that in a very little while the grave should lose its power and
that she would come forth robed in immortal beauty, filled my soul
with transport and almost brought to my lips the yearning cry, 'Come,
Lord Jesus, and come quickly.'"
On the 27th of August Miss JOHNSON closed her school, and after
spending a few weeks at home went to the academy at Derby Centre, Vt.
Under date of "Wednesday, Oct. 26," we have this entry in her
journal:--
"Attended the exercises to-night and read a composition. They could
not have liked it, for it was upon a subject which must be
disagreeable to the world; and yet it is the subject nearest my
heart--one that I love to dwell upon and to hear about: the coming of
my blessed Saviour. When will the glorious morn appear! Loud and
repeated cheers were given when Miss ---- read her composition. Well,
it was good; such as would suit the world, but not _me_--strange
being that I am. But I shall not always be so: in heaven I shall not
be a stranger. There I can converse with the saints dearly-beloved:
for their conversation will be on the things of God; and my Saviour
himself will deign to address me there! Why should I not then long,
aye _long_ to obtain that blissful state? And yet I sometimes
fear that I shall fall far short of it, for I am so vile and
polluted."
The "composition" referred to we do not find among her papers; but
much that she has written shows that she was indeed deeply interested
in "that blessed hope" (Tit. 2:13). She was a decided pre-
millennialist,
and stood identified in her church-membership with the Evangelical
Adventists. On completing her eighteenth year (Oct. 27, 1852), she
said:--
"This evening, while looking back through all the events of my life,
what is there that rejoices me most? It is one that the past year has
brought forth,--one that will ever be remembered with deep and
powerful emotions: the day that consecrated me to the Lord, when I
breathed forth with a fervent heart, 'Give me Christ, or else I die,'
and I was enabled to take up my cross and follow my Saviour in
baptism."
Here there is no regret expressed for the step she had taken, nor did
she ever feel any, though she greatly deplored her weakness and
unprofitableness in the Lord's service. And why not? Listen to her,
under date of June 13, 1853:--
"How sweet, when the soul has no earthly support, to fly to the Rock
of Ages! The Saviour is precious to the heart of the pardoned sinner.
There is nothing like the love of Jesus. He is not like other friends
--oftentimes wearied by our complaints and the repetition of our
sorrows, but is always longsuffering and delighting to hear and answer
every cry of the burdened spirit; smiling ever in the darkest of
afflictions, and forever dropping the balm of consolation into the
distracted breast. Oh, what a privilege to have such a friend--such a
sure and steadfast friend--such a wise and omnipotent friend. And he
is _my_ friend? Yes; he is '_the sinner's_ FRIEND,' and therefore
mine: for surely nothing but wondrous _love_ could have led him to die
a cruel and ignominious death for me, polluted as I am. O Jesus, thou
art my friend and I will be thy friend; thou didst love me first and I
do love thee, but not as fervently as I should, nor so much as I
desire. O God, give me more of thy Holy Spirit; may it consume every
unhallowed passion, tear every idol from my heart, and consecrate that
heart entirely to thee."
The only journal notes of considerable length which Miss JOHNSON seems
to have made were for the years 1852 and 1853. Those for 1855 and 1860
were entered in a "daily miniature diary." We find none for other
years, though she always kept her pen and pencil busy in some way as
long as she had strength to write. The diary for 1855 is in rhyme--
usually six lines being allotted to each day. While some of the verses
are playful and witty, most of them are religious and plaintive. The
following are given as specimens:
"Arose at six o'clock today:
How swift the moments sped away
Engaged in household duties;
Then Virgil claimed awhile my care,
And Pope of time a larger share,
With all his sweets and beauties."
"Mr. Goodenough and wife
Came here yesterday;
Through the changing scenes of life
Onward be their way;
And never may their path be rough
So long as they are Good-enough."
"Received of Robinson to-day
For my 'Address' a little pay:
The first of cash I ever had
For writing verses, good or bad.
O Lord, whate'er my gains may be
The tenth I dedicate to thee."
"I would not seek the haunts of mirth,
For in the gayest scenes of earth
Are hovering grief and care;
But oft I find a soothing power,
At twilight's calm and peaceful hour,
In secret prayer."
"Jesus, oh, precious name!
How sweet it sounds to me;
Come want, come grief, come death or shame
I'll cling, my Lord, to thee."
"I'd rather be distressed with doubts
And find no sweet release,
Than be content to settle down
In false repose and peace;
But, ah! I wish I knew my name
In the Lamb's book a place could claim."
"While here distressed I lie,
What joy my heart doth thrill
At the enchanting thought,
That Jesus loves me still!"
"Sweet Sabbath morn! to me it brings,
As if on angel's airy wings,
Visions of peace and rest:
I seem to stand upon the plains
Where an eternal Sabbath reigns,
And dwell the pure and blest.
"I wept--when lo, my heart to cheer
J---- sobbing whispered in my ear:
'Don't cry, for I will serve the Lord;'
How sweet the sound! what great reward."
[_Psa_. 126:5,6].
"How little comfort have I known
In this dark vale of tears!
For Sorrow marked me for her own
In childhood's early years.
And ever since, by night and day,
Has hovered round my lonely way."
"'Twas nearly two--but sleep had fled
My pillow for the night;
I rose--but all was dark around,
And I could find no light:
And then I knelt and prayed for those
Who, like me, found no sweet repose."
"Sick, sick, sick,
And gloomy all the day;
Sick, sick, sick,
Thus life wears away."
"Murmur not, my troubled soul,
At thy Father's dealings;
Wild the billows round thee roll:
Yield not to the feelings
Of despair that gather round:
Troubles rise not from the ground."
[_Job_ 5:6-8].
"How many souls around the throne
Once suffered here like me,--
Like me discouraged, tempted, tried,
But now for ever free:
They shout their griefs and trials o'er;
Then let me fear and doubt no more."
"At home all day; I cannot pray,
Can neither read nor think:
O God, I cry; the waves roll high,
Support me or I sink."
"Did I murmur that the rod
Was so heavy, O my God?
I forgot the cursed tree,
I forgot Gethsemane,
I forgot the grief and pain--
May I ne'er forget again."
"Unworthy, wretched as I am
I hope for mercy through the Lamb:
His name, his glorious name prevails
When every other passport fails;
It opens Heaven's eternal gate;
Then, doubting soul, why longer wait?"
"Sabbath after Sabbath comes;
When will dawn the endless day?
Swiftly roll the wheels of time,
Swiftly pass the hours away;
Brighter and brighter from afar
View we now 'the Morning Star.'"
"And we, alas! are called to part:
'Farewell' is said, with aching heart;
But God will watch o'er thee I ween,
And guide thee through each trying scene,
My dearest sister Josephine!"
"The glorious sun--
His race has run,
And sweetly sought repose:
O that for me
This life might be
As bright--as calm its close!"
"What an awful peal of thunder!
O my soul, be still and wonder;
Yet another, and another--
Each one louder than the other;
God of heaven, I _see_ thy power,
May I _feel_ it hour by hour."
"A thousand twinkling stars to-night
Look down with soft and silvery light
And tell the majesty divine
Of Him who gives them leave to shine.
Oh, what an atom must I be,
And yet He loves and cares for me!"
"The wheels of Time-how swift they roll!
Dost thou consider, O my soul,
That it shall soon be said to thee:
'Time was, but time no more shall be'?
Then seize upon the present hour;
Improve it to thy utmost power."
In the fall of 1856 Miss JOHNSON was prostrated by disease, and nearly
all the time afterwards confined to the house. So numerous and
complicated were her difficulties as to baffle the skill of all the
physicians who saw her, and no one knows the amount of suffering she
endured. Her mind however was active and vigorous, and though there
were seasons--sometimes quite protracted--when to her the heavens
above seemed as brass and the earth iron, yet God did not forsake
her: the sunshine succeeded the storm, and the peace that Jesus
gives--was poured into her wounded heart. Referring to her afflictions
in 1858 and the two following years she writes:--
"Those were days and nights of anguish, but I now look back to them
with feelings of regret, for my feet had only touched the dark waters
and my lips had only tasted the cup from which I was to drink the very
dregs. Early in the spring of 1858 I was seized with fever and acute
inflammation of the stomach, which brought me to the verge of the
grave. I could feel the warm tears of beloved ones upon my cheeks, as
they bent tenderly over me; I could see the dark vale just ahead
(though there was a light amid the darkness), but my sufferings were
not to be so soon terminated. Gradually my disease assumed a chronic
form, and physicians said there was no hope. The little nourishment I
could take distressed me so, terribly that the very thought of eating
made me shudder, and my stomach became so sore that I could not be
moved from one side of the bed to the other without uttering a cry of
pain. Winter, spring, summer and autumn in turn visited the earth, and
with each I thought, aye, longed to depart; but the great Refiner had
his own purpose to accomplish,--there was a little fine gold but the
dross rendered it useless. The ordeal through which I am passing is
indeed a terrible one, but I know where peace and consolation are to
be found, and there are times when I can say in sincerity, 'Thy will
be done.'"