RELIGION IN EARNEST.
A MEMORIAL OF MRS. MARY LYTH, OF YORK.
BY HER SON JOHN LYTH.
1861.
DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED SISTER ELIZA HILL, WHOSE RARE
AND UNOSTENTATIOUS VIRTUES SHED FRAGRANCE ON EARTH, BUT ARE ONLY
RECORDED IN HEAVEN.
PREFACE.
In compiling the following sheets, the Author has discharged what he
felt to be an act, not merely of filial affection, but of Christian
duty. To his deceased and venerated Mother he owes more than words
can express;--a Mother whose consistent example, earnest piety and
frequent effectual prayers, perhaps even more than her oft-repeated
counsels, produced upon his mind, while yet a child, the settled
conviction that religion is the one business of life. But be believes
it also due to the cause of Christ, that an example of "Religion in
Earnest," so pre-eminent, should not pass unrecorded and unimproved.
Those who think the charm of biography consists in startling incident;
or who seek for material to gratify a literary taste, will discover
here little to meet their respective views. We have only to offer them
a simple record of one, whose history possessed no romantic interest,
and who made no pretension to intellectual attainments. But such as
love to trace the development of Divine grace in the human heart,
and to see its power uniformly exemplified in the several phases of
every-day life;--who are willing to learn how much may be accomplished
by decision, simplicity of purpose, and undeviating consistency;--in a
word, how every Christian even in private life, may become a centre of
happiness, life and power, are in this volume presented with no common
illustration.
The method of arrangement which the writer has adopted has been
determined, partly by his materials, and partly by the desire to
render his subject practical as well as interesting. How far he has
succeeded must be decided by the impression made upon the mind of the
reader. He now commends his work to God, who alone can give success to
every good purpose, earnestly praying that Christ, who was magnified
in the life of his now sainted mother, may be yet more abundantly
magnified in her death.
J.L.
Stetten, O.A. Cannstatt, Württemberg.
December 27th, 1860.
CONTENTS.
CHAP.
I.--ANTECEDENTS
II.--EARLY DAWN
III.--GOLDEN OPPORTUNITIES
IV.--THE HOLY ESTATE
V.--SHOWER AND SUNSHINE
VI.--GROWTH IN GRACE
VII.--TEMPLE SERVICE
VIII.--PASSING CLOUDS
IX.--MID-DAY TOIL
X.--WORKS OF MERCY
XI.--A DYING SCENE
XII.--COUNTRY LIFE
XIII.--THE REDEMPTION OF THE PROMISE
XIV.--POWER WITH GOD
XV.--THE RETURN
XVI.--THE SACRIFICE
XVII.--THE MOTHER IN ISRAEL
XVIII.--LIGHT IN DARKNESS
XIX.--THE INWARD MONITOR
XX.--THE STORM
XXI.--THE WIDOW
XXII.--THE LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF EVENING
XXIII.--SLEEP IN JESUS
XXIV.--PLEASANT MEMORIES
I.
ANTECEDENTS.
"A GOOD MAN LEAVETH AN INHERITANCE TO HIS CHILDREN'S
CHILDREN." Prov. xiii. 22.
Within the grounds attached to the mansion of the Earl of Harewood,
in the West Riding of Yorkshire, is a substantial and well-built farm
house, furnished with suitable outbuildings, and surrounded by a fine
cluster of fruit-trees. It stands on the side of a hill, which slopes
gently down to the river Wharfe, and commands a prospect, which,
though not extensive, is singularly picturesque. In front, a little
to the right, the ruined fortress of Harewood peeps out of a scattered
wood, which crowns the summit of the hill, and shelters one of the
neatest and trimmest villages in England. On the left flows the
beautiful Wharfe but soon loses itself among the adjacent heights.
Behind, towers the logan of Arlmes cliff, an interesting relic of
druidical skill and superstition; while Riffa wood and Ottley Shevin
complete the beauty of the landscape. A row of trees, protected by a
lofty wall, effectually conceals the house we have mentioned, from
the highroad, which for some distance runs at the foot of the hill and
almost parallel to the river. Formerly there was only a sandy lane,
which passed immediately in front of the house, and winding up the
hill, entered the village between the castle and the church. From this
circumstance the adjoining farm was called Sandygate, but with
the changes that have taken place, the appellation is now almost
forgotten, although the house still retains the name of its original
occupant, and is known in the neighbourhood as 'Stables House.'
Just a hundred years ago, this house was built for the accommodation
of Wm. Stables, a wealthy yeoman, who resided at Heatherwick (now
Stanke), about a mile from Harewood; and who, successful in the
cultivation of his paternal acres, sought to extend his interests by
renting the farm of Sandygate. His removal was however unpropitious to
his domestic happiness; for entering the new house before it was fully
fit for occupation, his wife, already in a delicate state of health,
took cold and died; leaving him with four children, the eldest of whom
was six years old, and the youngest but an infant. Mr. S. is said to
have been a shrewd and sensible man, of strict morals and unbending
integrity; but withal stern and inflexible in disposition, pharisaic,
and a bigoted churchman. His punctuality in the performance of outward
religious duties, and the regular payment of his dues, with now and
then a fat sheep given to the poor, secured him among his neighbours
the reputation of being a good Christian. As might be supposed,
his children were trained with great severity, and educated in the
straitest sect of their religion. Collect and catechism were duly
committed to memory, prayers regularly read in the family, the Sabbath
rigorously observed, a stiff and precise order reigned through
the whole household; but it wanted the charm and life of spiritual
feeling. As the children grew up to maturity, this state of things
was destined to be changed by the introduction of a new and unwelcome
element, which seriously disturbed the never too profound tranquillity
of the old man. Mary, the youngest child, whose mind had gradually
opened to the truth, although so defectively communicated, became
deeply convinced of sin under the ministry of Mr. Jackson, the parish
clergyman; and so painful and vivid were her views of her miserable
condition, that she cried aloud for mercy in the church. Her father
was deeply concerned for her, but, as he was ignorant of spiritual
religion, he was utterly at a loss to understand her feelings. As a
last resource he sent for the minister, but with no better result,
for he too, frankly confessed that he did not understand the sorrow
of which he had been the unwitting occasion. A specimen of this
gentleman's ability to administer spiritual counsel and direction
is recorded in the characteristic autobiography of Richard Burdsall.
"Visiting Mr. Stables in his last illness Mr. Jackson asked him how he
did. Mr. S. replied, 'Sir, I am a miserable sinner.' 'Do not say you
are a miserable sinner,' replied the Reverend gentleman, 'for you
are a good man.' Mr. S. answered, 'O, Mr. Jackson, I am a miserable
sinner.' To this the parson replied, 'if you will be a miserable
sinner you are like to be a miserable sinner,' and so came no more."
Mary was thus left to seek relief and comfort where she could; and
having heard of the Methodists, who held a meeting every Sabbath in
a house about a mile distant from Harewood, she secretly resolved to
attend, if possibly, she might find the hidden peace, which she had
hitherto sought in vain. Here she met with a few humble but sincere
persons, who could sympathise with her state of mind; and from whom
she received such instruction and encouragement, that, not long after
while pleading with God in the secrecy of her chamber, she obtained
'redemption through the blood of Christ, even the forgiveness of
sins.' Much to the chagrin of her father, she now became an avowed
Methodist; and was subjected to the petty persecution, which usually
awaits the first in a family that embraces vital godliness. On one
occasion, her father locked her out of the house; and, on another,
threatened to shoot her, but she remained firm to her profession;
until at length, her consistent and steady deportment was rewarded by
the conversion of her two brothers, John and William, and also of two
of the servants. The increased displeasure of the old gentleman was
signally exhibited. Afraid lest Elizabeth his eldest daughter should
also become a Methodist, he resolved at once to free his house from
all possibility of infection. The two servants were dismissed without
ceremony; and the three delinquents banished to a farm, which he had
purchased, at Kirkby Overblow, a few miles distant. These precautions
were useless. The removal of her sister and brothers, together with
the occasion of their banishment, so much affected Elizabeth, that
in fact it contributed to the result it was intended to prevent. So
foolish and vain are the thoughts of men when they attempt to arrest
the operations of the Spirit of God. Isolated and freed from control,
the young converts were now left to obey the dictates of conscience
without further opposition. In their new home they were thrown
more directly in contact with the Methodists, and especially formed
acquaintance with Richard Burdsall, with whose class they at once
connected themselves.
Richard Burdsall was one of those bold and distinctive characters,
whose sterling piety and ardent zeal shining forth from under a rude
exterior, gave such peculiar lustre to the age of early Methodism; and
indicated an agency, specially raised by God, to break up the fallow
ground and clear away the thorns, that the incorruptible seed of
truth might find a soil congenial to its germination and growth. His
conversion, which occurred at the age of twenty, was accompanied by
indubitable proofs of its reality; and instantly followed up by entire
consecration to God. The path of usefulness soon opened out before
him; and in spite of 'fightings without and fears within,' he pursued
it with undeviating integrity to the close of a protracted life. His
shrewdness and originality of thought, quaint and pointed method of
expression, combined with such an intimate acquaintance with the word
of God, that some said he had the scriptures at his fingers' ends, and
others nicknamed him 'old chapter and verse;' and above all, his
known integrity and uncompromising zeal for the glory of God, amply
compensated for the want of cultivation, and rendered him as a lay
preacher so exceedingly popular and useful, that he was repeatedly
solicited to enter a higher sphere, and devote himself to the work
of the ministry. He was twice appointed by Mr. Wesley to the York
circuit, in which he was resident; and in six different instances,
invited to take charge of independent congregations; but, although he
so far yielded to the request of the former as to make the experiment
for nine months, he voluntarily retired, under the conviction that
he was called to occupy an humbler but not less useful sphere. His
labours, which were extended over a considerable part of Yorkshire and
Lincolnshire, were blessed by God to the salvation of thousands. By
day toiling at the vice or the anvil, and by night preaching the glad
tidings of the Gospel, his life was spent,
"'Twixt the mount and multitude
Doing and receiving good"
until, within a fortnight of his death, at the advanced age of
eighty-eight, he delivered his last discourse, and died shouting
"Victory, Victory," through the blood of the Lamb.
At the period of oar narrative Mr. B. resided at Kearby, about a mile
from the Kirkby farm, where he soon became a frequent and welcome
visitor; and by his counsels and example, contributed much to confirm
the faith and piety of its inmates. The two brothers became useful
local preachers, and remained faithful unto death; and with Mary
commenced an intimacy, which, notwithstanding considerable difference
of age and circumstances, was ultimately consummated in marriage. The
story of the courtship is amusing and characteristic. Mary was fair
to look upon, and having moreover the prospect of a handsome fortune,
commanded many admirers. One day when several of these aspirants for
her hand were present, Mr. B. stepped in, and, perceiving how matters
were going, quietly slipped behind her and whispered, 'I mean to have
thee myself'. This abrupt avowal had the desired effect. The blooming
damsel preferred the widower with four children, though twice her own
age, to younger but not more worthy suitors; a decision she never had
occasion to regret.
The engagement thus strangely brought to a crisis, was not entered
into without much serious forethought and prayer. The path of
Providence was distinctly indicated, and there remained but one
obstacle in the way of the proposed union, and that was to secure the
consent of Mr. Stables; which, to quote Mr. Burdsall's own words,
"'to me appeared like asking him for his life'. I was however
providentially helped out of this difficulty; for as I was returning
from preaching one morning, I met him in a narrow lane at some
distance from his own house. When he saw me, he turned round as though
he would not meet me. The lane being strait, he took hold of my mare
and said, 'What are you a riding preacher now'? I answered, 'To be
sure I am, for you see I am upon my mare'. He then said, 'Are my sons
right, think you, when they can go to a public house and drink with
people and pay nothing'? I replied, 'You are not to give credit to
what the world says of us Methodists, or of your sons. I believe your
sons fear the Lord, and are wishful to do what is right'. He said,
'Well, he that endureth to the end the same shall be saved'. I
replied, 'That is God's word, but it will not suit every one'. He then
wished to know whom it would not suit. I answered, 'It will not suit
the unregenerate, for were I to tell sinners, that if they endured
to the end in their sins they should be saved, I should lie; for they
cannot be saved if they do: neither will it suit the self-righteous,
for the word of God says, 'Except your righteousness exceed the
righteousness of the scribes and pharisees, ye shall in no case enter
into the kingdom of heaven'. What I said, seemed to carry conviction
to his mind. He said, 'They say you are a good preacher, I shall come
and hear you'. 'I should be glad to see you', replied I, 'but I fear
your master will not let you come'. We then proceeded towards his
house in friendly conversation, and when we were just going to part
he said, 'They say you are going to marry my daughter.' I answered,
'I doubt they grieve you with, it.' He said, 'Nay, not at all, for
my daughter shall marry whom she likes.' 'You speak very honourably,'
said I, 'if you only stand to your word.' To this he replied, 'I will,
she shall marry whom she likes.' I said to him, 'I will make you
this promise, that I will not marry your daughter for the sake of her
fortune, for I do not believe you will give me any with her. If I can
be assured that it is of the Lord, I will marry her though you turn
her into the street destitute; and, without this persuasion, I would
not marry her though you were to give her your whole estate to do
so: therefore do not blame me.' He said, 'I cannot,' and we parted."
Notwithstanding this plain conversation, Mr. Stables was highly
displeased with the match, and offered to give his daughter an
additional portion on condition that she would not prosecute it;
adding, "If you do, I'll give you sixpence a-week, and you may go
about singing Methodist songs."
On their marriage, which took place shortly after, Mr. and Mrs.
Burdsall removed to York. The offended father, true to his word, sent
his daughter forth literally destitute; not even permitting her to
take her personal apparel. It was not until twelve months had elapsed,
that any further communication took place. The interview is thus
related by Mr. Burdsall in his own quaint style. "I happened to be
passing near his house as he was going from it; on my calling to him,
he asked what I wanted with him. I said, 'I want to know what place
you mean me to have in heaven?' He smiled, and asked, 'Do you mean to
go there?' 'I hope so,' said I. He then asked me why I had married his
daughter. I told him, because I loved her and thought she would make
me a good wife. I added, 'You know, sir, that I told you before I
married her, that I would not marry her for the sake of her fortune;
neither have I, I do not expect any, the Lord blesses us without any,
and he will still continue to bless us.' He acknowledged the truth of
what I said, and we parted." The fire of wrath was still smouldering
in the heart of the old man, and awakened in the mind of Mrs. Burdsall
feelings of painful anxiety, especially, as it was apparent, that life
was ebbing fast to its close. Mr. B. therefore, a short time after,
addressed a kind but faithful letter to him on the great subject of
salvation, and concluded with these remarkable and expressive words,
"I have no other reason for writing to you, that I know of, than this,
that the sun is going down." This produced no immediate effect, only,
whenever they met, Mr. Stables would say, "You write parables to
me." The allusion however so appositely and wisely put, like an
arrow directed to the mark, had fastened upon his conscience, and was
secretly undermining the strength of long and obstinately-cherished
resentment. The marksman was skilful, but still better, a man of
"fervent effectual prayer." "As a Prince he had power with God and
with men, and prevailed," for "when a man's ways please the Lord He
maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him." So it turned out.
Mr. Burdsall says, "One time, as I was returning home from preaching
at a distant place in a very wet cold and hungry state, and as night
was coming on, having to pass his residence, I thought I would call
and see if he would receive me. I knocked at the door, and he himself
opened it. Seeing me he called his eldest daughter and said, 'Here is
thy brother, come and take his horse.' I alighted and went in. He then
accosted me as he had done once before, asking, 'What are you a riding
preacher now?' I answered, 'To be sure I am; for I have ridden from
York to Seacroft, and from thence to your house.' 'Well,' said he, 'I
know you live well.' I replied, 'We do; but I have not lived so well
to day as I might have done; for I feel rather hungry.' He smiled,
and bid his daughter put on the tea kettle. We then entered into
conversation, in which he said, 'You write parables to me, for you
told me the sun was going down.' I answered, 'I did so, and my reason
for it was, I knew I had stirred up your wrath in marrying your
daughter against your mind, and was fearful lest the sun should go
down upon it.' He burst into a flood of tears, and was so melted down,
that for three hours, I was prompted both by his feelings and my own
to speak of the love of Christ to poor sinners. * * * This was a night
to be remembered as my reconciliation with Mr. Stables was at this
time effected." The understanding thus happily brought about was never
after interrupted; and Mr. Stables practically evinced the sincerity
of his feelings by securing to his daughter an annuity for life. In his
last illness, which occurred a few years later, Mr. Burdsall, by his
own request, frequently visited him, and ministered to his spiritual
wants. He died in peace on the 13th of June, 1787.
The first fruits of the union of Richard Burdsall and Mary Stables,
was Mary, the subject of the present memoir--the step-sister of the
Rev. John Burdsall, who still survives. She was born at York, without
Bootham bar, June 19th, 1782. The house which no longer exists, stood
just under the shadow of the old gateway, nearly opposite the modern
crescent, known as St. Leonard's Place.
The foregoing facts, which to some may appear superfluous, are here
introduced not merely with the view of making the reader acquainted
with the antecedents of my honoured mother; but the much higher object
of illustrating the sovereign mercy of God, and tracing the growth of
the religious element in the family. Many a page deeply interesting
and instructive might be written which would unfold the grace of God
in the history of particular families, flowing as a stream of light
from generation to generation, or diffusing itself in the collateral
branches; here swelling as "broad rivers and streams," and there
narrowed down to a single channel. The causes of such alternations
might be profitably investigated, and recorded. The inquiry into one's
ancestry would thus answer a nobler purpose than the gratification of
human vanity, or the recovery of an alienated inheritance; it would
exhibit the influence of the past upon the present, afford important
lessons of encouragement or admonition, and discover our claim
perhaps, to something better than gold or silver "for the good man"
even though he is poor, "leaveth an inheritance to his children's
children." How far the moral character as well as the physical
constitution of a parent may affect the happiness and control the
destiny of his children, is a question, which may be incapable of an
exact and satisfactory solution; but the general fact, notwithstanding
some strange exceptions, (which however may not be altogether
incapable of explanation,) is sufficiently established, that examples
of singular excellence, or notorious profligacy may usually he traced
to seeds sown in a former generation. They are not therefore to be
altogether regarded in the light of isolated phenomena, but as the
result of causes, which may be more or less accurately determined.
At all events, God reveals himself as "a jealous God, visiting the
iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth
generation of them that hate him, and SHEWING MERCY UNTO THOUSANDS OF
THEM THAT LOVE HIM AND KEEP HIS COMMANDMENTS."
II.
EARLY DAWN.
"THOU HAST HID THESE THINGS FROM THE WISE AND PRUDENT
AND HAST REVEALED THEM UNTO BABES." Matt. xi. 25.
What solemn interest surrounds the dawn of immortal existence,--that
precious portion of human life, the first four or five years, which
may be termed the perceptive period, too often treated as a mere
blank, in which nothing is to be attempted; when the soul is all
eye, all ear, continually storing up in an almost faultless memory,
impressions, which go far to mould the future character, and which
reason, so soon as it is able, will certainly use as part of the
material out of which it must form its conclusions! How much of the
future depends upon the kind of influence to which the infant mind is
subjected! Happily for Mary Burdsall these early years were carefully
watched and guarded. The bold and uncompromising character of
her father, and the gentle piety of her mother, secured to her a
combination of influences particularly favourable to the development
of moral and religious feeling. Lessons of truth and love, as yet
beyond the comprehension of the child, were effectively taught by
means of bright and living examples; and hence grace began to operate
with the first unfoldings of reason.
Her earliest recollections were associated with the farm at Sandygate.
When about four years old, her grandfather Stables, now reconciled to
his daughter, proposed to undertake the charge of Mary's training and
education. This arrangement was overruled, providentially as it would
seem; for Mr. S., although strictly moral and religious in his way,
was a stranger to experimental godliness, and only obtained the
knowledge of the truth in his last moments. The occasion of her return
to her parents was probably his increasing age and infirmity, as
the only impression she retained of him in after life was that of
a somewhat crusty and ill-tempered old man, with a huge bobwig,
who always laid in bed. His last words to her, which were vividly
impressed upon her mind, were, that it was a pity she should go home
to be spoiled by Methodism. The few months she spent at Sandygate
were not however without some good and permanent result. Her aunt
Elizabeth, who was scripturally enlightened, and in a great measure
free from other engagements, solicitously occupied herself in
endeavouring to impress her tender heart with divine truth. From
her lips she learned to lisp the Lord's prayer, the Apostles' creed,
several of Watts' divine songs, and in particular the hymn commencing
"How vain are all things here below."
With reference to this period she says in her journal:--"The spirit
of God strove with me when but a little child. One time, I remember,
while repeating my prayers to my aunt, the grace of God shone so
sweetly upon me, I was melted down into tenderness before the Lord;
and it seemed as if the glory of the Lord shone round about me, while
I repeated the well-known hymn
'Glory to Thee, my God, this night.'
At another time, the Spirit of prayer was so poured upon me my sleep
for a season fled. Thus the Lord brooded upon my infant mind. Glory be
to his adorable name!"
Shortly after her return to York she heard the venerable founder of
Methodism preach in Peaseholm Green Chapel; and though at that early
age incompetent to retain any recollection of the sermon, his saintly
appearance made on her imagination a vivid impression, which was
perpetuated through life, and often mentioned in the family circle
with the liveliest feelings of pleasure. On this occasion, the last on
which he preached in York, Mr. Wesley appears to have been in one of
his happiest moods, as he remarks in his journal, "The word was as
fire, and all that heard it seemed to feel the power thereof;" a
circumstance which no doubt greatly contributed to fix the memory of
his features upon the mind of a child so young. And still more so, as
the venerable man, on descending from the pulpit, placed his hand upon
her head, and gave her his blessing. The Rev. J. Burdsall, who
was also present, once communicated to the writer an amusing and
interesting incident, that happened in course of the service, which
illustrates Mr. Wesley's love of harmony, even when, he had lost the
power to create it. It is well known that he delighted to hear the men
and women each take their proper part in congregational singing; but
it seems in this instance, the men in the warmth of their feelings had
transgressed the limits assigned them. Mr. W., whose ear was offended
by the slightest discord, somewhat sharply rebuked them. As this
failed to produce the desired amendment, he stopped again, and said,
"Listen to brother Masterman," who was at that time the leading
singer. Still dissatisfied, he stopped a third time, and said, "Listen
to me," at the same time taking up the strain, but as his voice was
cracked, and broken with age, it afforded such a miserable example as
to excite a general titter.
As a child Mary was distinguished by unusual vivacity of disposition,
and her fondness for fun and frolic often betrayed her into trouble.
At times she was wilful and passionate,--a spirit wisely checked by
her mother, whose discipline was equally strict and judicious. Such
ebullitions were transient, and invariably followed by feelings of
regret and sorrow. Adverting to this subject in after life she said
with deep gratitude, "I had a good mother and father to keep me in,
and restraining grace." On several occasions her life was placed in
imminent peril, and, but for that merciful providence, which specially
watches over the "little ones," she must have fallen a victim to her
thoughtlessness. One of these occurred when she was at school; where,
by some means her dress caught fire; happily the smoke and smell
of burning attracted the attention of her teacher who rushed to her
rescue, and succeeded in extinguishing the flames, but not until
her outer garments were completely consumed. Her education was
very slender, being confined to the simplest rudiments of human
knowledge,--a circumstance she often regretted, although in after
life the disadvantage was in a great measure overcome by diligent and
select reading.
When about eight years of age, the development of her early religious
feelings received a partial check through the pernicious influence
of a servant girl, who perceiving her love for singing, taught her,
without the knowledge of her parents, a number of foolish songs. Two
years later she gave decided indications of serious thought. She began
to take pleasure in being alone, and acquired a remarkable love of
solitude, which characterized her through life,--a feeling which
was strengthened by reading an article in one of the early "Arminian
Magazines." Sometimes she would steal off to the cottage of a pious
old churchwoman of the name of Halifax, who lived at a short distance
from her father's house; and listened with delight, while the good old
lady read to her out of the Psalms, and talked about heavenly things.
On one of these occasions she was so deeply affected by a sense of her
sinfulness and accountability, that pointing to the cat which lay by
the fireside, she exclaimed, "I wish I was that cat;" and when asked
why, replied, "Because it has not a soul to save." The old lady
gently rebuked the foolish thought, and, shewing her its wickedness,
endeavoured to lead her to Him, who said, "Suffer the little children
to come unto me." Not long after she began to meet in her father's
class, and received her first ticket at the hands of the Rev. Francis
Wrigley, at that time Superintendent of the York circuit. By weekly
intercourse with the people of God, her aspirations after divine
sources of happiness gradually strengthened until she was twelve years
old, when they assumed a more definite form; although, in consequence
of her tender age, her views of evangelical truth were necessarily
crude and defective; for she still "spake as a child, understood as a
child, _reasoned_ as a child," It was during a few days' visit to her
aunt Elizabeth, who now resided in the suburbs of York, having married
Mr. J. Hawkins of that city shortly after her father's death, that she
became so unhappy on account of her sinful and miserable condition,
that she could not refrain from much weeping. The thought of entering
eternity without a change of heart filled her with alarm. Every
looming cloud had a voice which spoke of the judgment to come; every
unpropitious event awakened painful forebodings. Her fears, which were
the genuine fruits of divine influence, were further aggravated by
the popular excitement of the times. France was threatening war
with England, and the prevailing apprehensions of the multitude
communicated themselves with double force to the heart of the
sorrowing child. "What," thought she, "if they should come now, and I
should be killed in my sins." Indeed her trouble increased to such
a degree that her aunt was grieved, imagining that her mother would
think she had been unkindly treated. She therefore resolved to take
her home. On the way a number of circumstances occurred which
to Mary's childish imagination were pregnant with evil, and
prognosticated nothing less than the day of general doom. The city was
in a state of unusual commotion, a report had gained ground that
the invader was at hand, some foolish person had caused the massive
portcullis of the city gate to be let down, several recruiting parties
were parading the streets, two of these she met, and the shrill blasts
of a few mounted trumpeters, together with a dense and portentous
cloud, which just at the moment spread itself upon the horizon,
completed her dismay. She reached home in tears. Her mother, whose
solicitude was awakened, inquired the cause. She replied, "Mother,
I can't tell you, but nothing in this world will make me happy."
Suspecting the real state of her feelings, her mother conversed kindly
with her, and administered suitable consolation, but in vain. After
committing herself to God in earnest prayer, she retired to rest with
the conviction, that she was the greatest sinner in the world; but the
next morning, which was the holy Sabbath, broke upon her with healing
in its wings. She awoke with the words in her mind,
"What a blessing to know that my Jesus is mine."
Her soul was immediately filled with a calm sweet joy, which she was
unable to describe. She arose from her bed, and went to the house of
God, her heart still glowing with these newly awakened emotions; and
while on her way thought within herself, "O that I had a voice that
would reach to all the world, I would tell them how happy I am."
This occurred on the 12th of February, 1795. But the transport of her
feelings, after enduring for a season, at length subsided; yet
not without leaving a permanent though perhaps not easily defined
impression. It may be asked was this conversion? was it genuine? and
in a child so young? We answer it would be very difficult to prove
that it was not. One thing is certain, that from this time there was a
settled purpose to serve the Lord, which spite of fluctuating feeling
and periods of wintry coldness was steadily kept in view; ever and
anon gathering strength until it ripened into maturity. The sapling,
because it bends to the breeze is not therefore destitute of life;
unless it be torn up by the roots, or scorched and withered by the
noon-day sun, or absolutely frozen by the winter's cold, it will
gradually wax and grow until its massive trunk is able to bid defiance
to the storm. Conversing on this subject with one of her children at
a late period in life, when her judgment was matured, and her views
of divine truth rendered more clear by her approximation to a better
world, she said, "I lost my peace because I grieved the Lord by a
trifling disposition, but the Lord did not leave me;" then, employing
the language of the lamented David Stoner, she added, "I have been
converted a hundred times." To another of her children, after using
similar language she said with peculiar, emphasis, "I have been aiming
to please God all my life, _I can say that_." Her conviction was that
the work was real, but that at the time, she did not understand the
nature of it; and hence from causes clearly ascertainable, it was as
in many similar cases, soon overshadowed by circumstances of doubt.
The truth is, children are just as capable of _experiencing_ the
grace of God as persons of riper years; but they are not capable of
_defining_ their feelings, or of _understanding_ the great doctrines
of salvation,--and for this very reason, they are more liable to be
subjected to fluctuations both of feeling and purpose. It would be
well if some older people, who do not take the pains to obtain a clear
and intelligent view of the religion they profess, were not equally
unstable and from the same cause; if there was no occasion for the
apostolic admonition, "Be not _children_ in _understanding_; howbeit
in malice be ye children, but in understanding be men." The feelings
of children, when employed about the great subjects of religion and
eternity, are not lightly to be discouraged, even when mixed up with
much that a maturer judgment must condemn; they should be fostered
with solicitous care. The tender plant requires gentle culture; touch
it not too rudely lest you check its development; watch it carefully;
support its weak and fragile stem; tenderly remove what is injurious;
and give it plenty of scope, that it may put forth its young fresh
leaves; and it will bloom by and by with all the richer fragrance and
beauty. "Forbid them not," cries the Saviour. Let them come with their
first fruits, and lay the offering of their childhood unsullied by
unholy communion with the world at the Master's feet. Let them come
with their cherry lips, and sparkling eyes, and loving hearts. Let
them come before age has curdled their blood, and the pleasures of
life have blunted the keenness of their susceptibilities. Let
them come, let them come. The Saviour welcomes their approach. The
fragrance of the sacrifice they bring is precious in his sight, and
while he folds the little ones in his arms, he lifts his eyes to
heaven, and "rejoicing in spirit, says, I thank thee O Father, Lord
of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and
prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes, even so Father, for so it
seemed good in thy sight."
Providentially Mary Burdsall was under judicious direction, and
retained her religious purpose although she lost the sweetness of her
enjoyment. Her experience assumed that unsettled phase which often
characterises the earlier stages of youthful piety. Now miserable
from a consciousness of having grieved the Spirit of God, and again
hopeful, confident, and happy. Sometimes she was driven even to
despair, and admitted the thought that the day of grace was past for
ever. One day while in this state of feeling she overheard her father
conversing with a friend on the awful case of Francis Spira,[Footnote:
"Francis Spira an advocate of Padua, Ann. 1545, that being desperate,
by no counsell of learned men could be comforted; he felt, as he said,
the pains of hell in his soule, in all other things he discoursed
aright; but in this most mad. Frismelica, Bullovat, and some other
excellent physicians, could neither make him eat, drink or sleep; no
persuasion could ease him. Never pleaded any man so well for himself,
as this man did against himself; and so he desperately died. Springer,
a lawyer, hath written his life."--_Burton's Anatomy of Melancholie_.]
her mind was filled with great horror, and she was constrained to
seek refuge in prayer. While she was pleading with God the words were
applied, "Turn ye at my reproof," and the snare was broken. During
this period of mental conflict she steadfastly maintained her
connexion with the church; and thus escaped that total loss of
spiritual feeling, into which many, in similar circumstances, plunge
themselves by withdrawing from the circle of religious influence.
Her exceeding volatility of temper, which was the cause of her
instability, often occasioned her bitter reflections; and as it was a
source of trouble to herself, excited the anxiety of her mother, who
frequently said to her, "There's a wide world will tame thee." Her
own words in reference to this stage of her history were, "They never
turned me out of class, but from my thoughtlessness and giddiness,
I am sure, I was not a proper Methodist." Still the struggle between
grace and nature was secretly going on; and every new proof of her own
weakness but contributed to strengthen and establish her resolves.
About this time she became acquainted with Miss Barrett, afterwards
Mrs. Zech. Taft, from whose counsels and example she derived much
advantage. Her first introduction to this excellent woman occurred
while on a visit to her uncle Mr. Wm. Stables, who had succeeded
to his father's farm at Sandygate. It seems her uncle and aunt were
invited to meet Miss B. at a social party at Harewood, but being
otherwise engaged, it was agreed that Mary should go in their stead,
accompanied by her aunt's sister. As she left the house her uncle
said, "I hope they'll convert thee." On arriving at the place where
the party was assembled she found a room full of strangers, and
among them Miss B., to whom she was specially introduced as Richard
Burdsall's daughter.
This secured her a kind and hearty reception. After tea followed a
Prayer-meeting in which petitions were particularly offered on her
behalf. Her pride was wounded and she thought within herself, "If
they would but pray for themselves it would be all very well;" but
notwithstanding this revulsion of feeling the impression made by this
interview was not only salutary, but indelible. She felt and wept
much, and from this time gave herself more diligently to the study of
the word of God and prayer. Subsequently she had many opportunities
of meeting with Miss B. in York, and the spiritual benefit which she
derived from these interviews led to a permanent friendship.
III.
GOLDEN OPPORTUNITIES.
"IN THE MORNING SOW THY SEED." Eccles. xi. 6.
Have you ever witnessed a glorious sunrise? Have you ever seen the orb
of day go forth as a bridegroom to run his race, arrayed in robes of
crimson, and purple, and gold? Then nature has taught you the lesson
that early opportunities are the brightest and best. Golden are the
early hours of morning, when the mind is most vigorous, and the powers
of nature, refreshed by sleep, are in full play. Golden too are the
days of early youth, before the heart is saddened by vanity, and the
spirit pressed down by the accumulating cares and responsibilities of
life. Let them be diligently improved, and they cannot fail to bring a
rich and profitable return. Therefore "in the morning sow thy seed."
Mary Burdsall was not indifferent to these opportunities. In the
beginning of life she formed the habit of early rising. She rose with
the lark and sang as merrily. She cultivated a taste for reading and
reflection; and although the natural vivacity of her disposition was
a constant snare in her path, she never lost sight of the purpose
she had formed of living for God. In secret she communed with her
own heart, and, the better to secure her growth in grace, commenced
a diary, which, with two or three short intermissions, occasioned
by sickness, was continued until within a week of her death.
Unfortunately a considerable portion of these manuscripts, including
a period of several years just preceding and following her marriage,
were destroyed by her own hands. What remains, is however no small
proof of her diligence and perseverance, as they extend to twenty
quarto volumes containing about 5,000 pages. They contain, besides
the record of her inner and outer life, copious summaries of the
discourses she heard; numerous extracts from books, especially of
passages calculated to impress the heart or direct the life; and an
extraordinary amount of original verse; for from the first she appears
to have adopted the practice of putting her thoughts into rhyme,--a
practice which when unaccompanied by true genius is generally a
profitless waste of time; but which in her case was made a valuable
means of personal edification, as well as of administering counsel,
consolation or admonition to others. Few events of public or private
interest, in her own family or in the circle of her acquaintance,
could pass without provoking her ready pen. Subjects poetical and
unpoetical were alike constrained into measured lines; which, if
not always remarkable for rhythm, were at least rich in evangelical
sentiment, and pervaded by deep spirituality of thought. Some of these
productions are inserted in this volume, in the order in which they
occur in her diary, not because they possess any literary merit, but
as eminently characteristic of her habits of thought and feeling. In
fact they are transcripts of her own heart, and she seems often to
have preferred this method of expressing her fervid emotions to the
use of cooler prose.
A few examples of the entries made when she was fifteen will suffice
to show what were the aspirations of her early youth:--
"This is the last day of 1797. O may I this day put off the works of
darkness, and put on the armour of light: and begin a new life with
a new year,--Lord, help me this day to live to Thee. Let Thy love be
shed abroad in my heart. Inspire the spirit of prayer. Let my few days
be spent in praising Thee, the Giver of all good gifts. Loose my heart
from every earthly object, and let my affections be set upon Thee
and things above. Lord, pardon my coldness, and help me in future
to double my diligence to make my calling and election sure.--During
service my mind was very much troubled; but glory be to God, He gave
me, in a measure, a praying spirit; and I trust He will answer His
own. Spirit's prayer. Lord, speak the answer to my heart _now_.--Went
with Miss Barrett to the Poor-house. She exhorted from, 'I believe in
the communion of saints, and in the forgiveness of sins.' After that
I went with her to the select band; she then came home, and slept with
me. The Lord blessed my soul in her company.--My mind is troubled;
but do Thou, who in every temptation makest a way for Thy people to
escape, deliver my soul out of prison, that I may praise Thee.--I
went with Miss B. to see some sick people. One man was mourning for
redemption in the blood of the Lamb; but, before we came away, he
rejoiced in the God of his salvation.--Lord, keep me from the vanity
of this alluring world. May I love Thee supremely. The Lord blesses
my soul greatly. Blessed be His name, He reproves me; may I take the
reproof.--A gleam of love was let into my soul at the meeting; but
after, I felt very dull and stupid.--I think I am willing to be any
thing, or nothing, only give me to feel Thy love in my heart. Do,
Jesus, increase my faith, but let it be now. Help me, I pray Thee, to
live as in Thy sight all the day long.--Called to see Ann F. We went
up-stairs and prayed together.--I have had more of the presence of
God the last few days. The Lord be praised. I want to have my evidence
made very clear. O shine on my soul, and make the darkness light
before me; that I may greatly triumph in the God of my salvation.--I
heard Mr. Simeon at Belfrey Church; it was a gracious time of
refreshing from the presence of the Lord.--Miss Barrett spoke at
Clifton. The power of the Lord was evidently felt. As it was a very
wet night we went into a barn, but it filled so fast, we returned into
the open air. Miss B. prayed that God would stop the bottles of heaven
for a few minutes; and, glory be to His name, He answered her request.
The Prayer-meeting continued some time, and several souls were brought
into liberty.--I gave way to a light spirit, which has done me much
hurt.--Lord, pardon me for giving way to lightness of spirit; help me
in future to redeem the time, and to take due care to prepare myself
for the great day.--O, Jesus, rouse me from my sins, and give me to
wake up after Thy likeness. Do fill me with Thy love. Let it flow into
my poor disconsolate soul, that I may serve Thee with all my ransomed
powers.--O let not my heart be set on the creature more than Thee; but
let me give myself to Thee without reserve. I go to school; Lord, help
me to learn the lessons of Thy grace as well as arithmetic. Drive this
dulness, both of body and soul away; that I may learn with speed
and delight.--Thou knowest, Lord, that I have not lived adorning my
profession; let the time past suffice, and let me begin to glorify Thy
name. Lord, save me from flattery, for Christ's sake. Amen.--January,
1799. Began to meet in band with Sarah B. O Lord, give us one spirit
with Thyself. I want, O Lord, to love Thee supremely above all beside;
give me, I pray Thee, the victory over myself."
These extracts bear, no doubt, the impress of childish thought; yet
they indicate that she had already formed large views of the nature of
inward religion. In her estimation it was a blessed reality of which
she might have a "clear evidence," and which could only reach
its perfection in the "likeness of God." Its principle was love,
controlling the most secret motions of the heart, and regulating the
minutest details of daily practice. This religion she proposed to
herself as the purpose of life. For this she earnestly prayed, and to
help her resolutions, she sought and cultivated the society of such as
were excellent in the earth. The select character of the associations
she formed was, perhaps, one main cause which contributed to her after
proficiency. She once mentioned to the writer, as a matter of profound
gratitude to God, that she had always mingled among religious people,
and only remembered one week in her whole life which had been spent
among persons not professing godliness. She lived and breathed in the
pure atmosphere of prayer and love, where the Holy Spirit loves to
dwell, until she became one spirit with Him.