Transcribed from the 1841 L. & G. Seeley edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org
PRINTED BY
L. AND G. SEELEY, THAMES DITTON, SURREY.
THE
PILOT’S DAUGHTER;
AN ACCOUNT OF
ELIZABETH CULLINGHAM,
WHO WAS BORN AND DIED
IN
THE PARISH OF LOWESTOFT.
* * * * *
BY THE
REV. FRANCIS CUNNINGHAM, M.A.
VICAR OF LOWESTOFT.
* * * * *
LONDON:
L. AND G. SEELEY, 169 FLEET STREET.
J. HATCHARD AND SON, PICCADILLY.
J. NESBIT, BERNER’S STREET.
* * * * *
1841.
THE PILOT’S DAUGHTER.
The subject of this little memoir was so well known to her neighbours,
and to the many young persons with whom she associated, that I have felt
sure a short account of her would not be unacceptable to them. They knew
her quiet, virtuous, consistent, pious walk, and they will, I am sure,
bear witness, that I do not over-state the blameless character which she
maintained. This, as it was an example to others, so it must be a cause
of heartfelt rejoicing to her friends now that she has finished her
course, and entered into her rest. To others, this little history may
have its use. It is not the account of a person of unusual powers of
mind, or of attainment; nor of one placed in extraordinary circumstances,
although she was blessed with pious parents, who watchfully instructed
her in the truths of Religion, as well as taught her by their example.
She had only the advantages which many young persons in every village and
town possess, nor did she attain to any situation in life, which
multitudes may not aspire to. But she gained a deep and well-grounded
feeling of Religion. She learned the evil nature of her heart. She
discovered and gained that treasure, which is revealed in the Lord Jesus
Christ. She laid hold by faith on his merits. She was taught of the
Holy Spirit; and the graces of the Spirit were in an eminent degree
manifested in her life. She by the same power acquired the adorning of
the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the
ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of the Lord of
great price. She followed in the simple training of the ministry of the
Church: neither seeking to wander from its pastures, nor exercising any
want of charity towards those who differed from her, one of whom,
attached to another denomination of Christians, her only surviving
sister, and nearest friend, was her constant companion; with her she
lived in perfect unity of Spirit. Her circumstances then had nothing in
them out of the ordinary course of human life. She had temptations
peculiar to her own character and disposition, and she met with the usual
trials, which belong to her situation in life. She had her time of
health, and of sickness. She was a daughter and a sister. She was
engaged in a variety of pursuits both to gain her livelihood, and to do
good to others; but in every state,—without exhibiting any quality to
which her friends and neighbours might not aspire,—she may be truly said
to have walked after her measure in her Master’s footsteps, and to have
adorned her Christian profession.
The father of this young woman was James Cullingham. He had for many
years been a Pilot. He was a man of somewhat original character.
Throughout his life he had followed, without variation, the usual line of
his calling, and faithfully discharged the duties of his occupation. The
business of a Pilot on this part of the coast, is to take ships coming
from the North to London. Then to return home again, to wait perhaps a
few days till the opportunity occurs of another voyage. This kind of
life is one of a good deal of temptation; but it did not prove more than
this to him, for he passed through it without reproach, although somewhat
unsuccessfully as to his own profit. In the depth of the winter, when
the Northern Ports were frozen, his usual duties were suspended. It was
in these intervals we had occasion to observe his valuable character.
His season of rest was employed chiefly at home, reading various books;
in his latter years, books of devotion; and he was rarely absent from the
House of God. In the latter part of his life, he was in the habit, when
at home, of having stated prayer three times a day; and he read the
Scriptures in the order of the Calendar of the Prayer Book; at this
period he also gave up all watching for the coming in sight of ships on
the Sabbath day; always, however, being ready to go out to them, as his
profession called him to do, if there was any actual necessity. On the
week days at the prayers, as well as on the Sunday, he constantly
attended the services of the Church. I shall long remember, during the
last years of his life, (the only period when I knew him,) his
respectable appearance, his attentive demeanour and the animation with
which he made the responses out of a large prayer book, which was his
constant companion, altogether manifesting the fulness of heart, with
which he entered into the service of God. He was a fine model of a man,
whose religion partook of the character of a former age. He was deeply
serious, entirely practical, strict in his attachment to the Church; but
his religious feeling, although it led him sometimes to a fearless
reproach of sin in others, did not so much draw him to aim at the
conversion of his neighbours. He owed very much of the expansion of his
religious mind to a social Prayer Meeting, at which he was a constant
attendant. One of his family remembers the first deviation from that
remarkable firmness which belonged to his natural character, on which
occasion he came home from one of these Meetings, deeply affected, and
witnessed by his tears, the impression he had received. He had one
remarkable deliverance from Shipwreck. He had been called to take charge
of a ship in distress which in the course of ten minutes must have
perished, had it not pleased God to direct an instantaneous change of the
wind. In this danger he felt himself calm and prepared for his end. He
was, in after years, constantly sensible of this deliverance, and on two
sheets of paper, nailed up in his bed room, he wrote as a memorial in his
own large hand: “The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I
fear; the Lord is the strength of my life of whom shall I be afraid?”
And “The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart hath trusted in him,
and I am helped: therefore my heart danceth for joy, and in my song will
I praise him.” Psalm xxviii. 8. He was a man of undaunted courage,
considering, that in his station of life, it was his duty to run any
risks by which he might be faithful to his occupation, and acquit himself
of the responsibility entrusted to him.
Elizabeth’s Mother was a person of no common character. She had been
left an orphan at sixteen years of age. She had spent many years in
service, and at the conclusion of this time, had married. Her character
was one of great decision, and warmth of feeling. She was a person of
singular benevolence, and filled a valuable post amongst her afflicted
neighbours, and in our District Society. Her great sympathy with others,
and her uncommon power of body and of mind, had led her to give up days
and nights to nursing her neighbours. This labour eventually undermined,
and permanently injured her vigorous constitution. Those only, who saw
her in her afflictions, can be aware of the deep feeling which dwelt in
her heart. She was in the habit of reading a variety of common books
which fell in her way. I remember some very curious questions, which she
once put to me on the family of an individual, which had figured in the
History of England. Her piety was ardent. It was her habit to retire
every afternoon to her chamber for prayer. She had not, perhaps, as much
of adherence to the forms of the Church as her husband, although she was
zealously attached to it, and a constant frequenter of its services. She
was very peculiarly observant of statements of doctrine, made in the
Public Ministry, giving the most marked preference to those which freely
offered the grace of God to all. She had been led to very deep
seriousness of religious feeling by the ardent piety and interesting
death of her second daughter, who exemplified, during eleven weeks of
painful sickness, an attainment in religion, which afforded the fullest
assurance of her joyful entry into the everlasting kingdom of her Lord
and Saviour. That daughter had taken a somewhat higher course of mental
pursuit, than any of her family. She was accustomed to express her
devout feeling in verse, and a copy book has been put into my hands,
containing a variety of little poems, which at least shew her sweetness
of mind, and her knowledge of religion. I cannot forbear quoting one of
them, not particularly for its excellence, but because it serves to
prove, in reply to the charge often made of ingratitude against the poor,
how frequently a deep feeling of thankfulness may exist, which
nevertheless gains no public expression. These lines are on the death of
a venerable Clergyman, whom I myself knew to have been frequently
foremost in acts of benevolence, and often, if necessity required it,
willing to stand almost alone in deeds of enlarged charity.
ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. J. G. SPURGEON,
RECTOR OF OULTON.
Hark! tis the loud knell which tolling so dreary,
Announces to all, a frail mortal’s decease;
That relieved from pain, at rest is the weary,
A Christian has entered the mansions of peace.
But it tells us a _friend of the poor_ is departed,
A benevolent friend has resign’d his last breath,
And the eye where the soft tear of pity has started,
Is now closed, and sleeps in the silence of death.
Yet while in deep sorrow, his loss we’re deploring,
His spirit is mounting to Heaven above;
To those regions of light he is rapidly soaring,
To reap the reward of his labours of love.
Peace to thine ashes! thy warfare is ended,
Thou hast fought the good fight, and hast entered thy rest;
Still a tear dims their eye, thou so kindly befriended,
And thy memory is sweet to the poor and distress’d.
On her death bed, Susan Cullingham spoke of ‘passing the dark valley,
but,’ she added, ‘It is _light_,’ and she bade her friends go to the
grave, not to _weep_, but to look for her in heaven.
I think that I have rarely known in their rank of life, a finer specimen,
of what I might wish the whole population of my parish to be, than the
Father and Mother of Elizabeth Cullingham. They lived most happily
together, and after death were not long separated. Their death I shall
have occasion presently to record.
Elizabeth’s early life was such as might be expected in her station. She
had exceedingly good health and spirits at this period. She was fully on
par with all other girls in childish pursuits. Her disposition was,
however, always careful. She was considerate in all things, not wasteful
of any thing, a stayer at home, prudent and disposed to seriousness. At
the age of sixteen, she went to fill a subordinate situation in a family
in London, in which a female relative was the housekeeper. In this
situation she was exposed to no more temptation than belongs to a servant
in general. She was permitted, indeed, to partake of the usual
amusements which are allowed to servants in London, but she was protected
from the evils which might have resulted from those amusements, by the
watchful attention of the relation under whose care she was placed, and
by the preventing grace of God.
During the three years of her residence in London nothing occurred to
mark her course. She fulfilled her duties, and gained the character of a
good servant. She returned to Lowestoft about the month of May, 1831, in
health and spirits. Her return was the wish of her careful mother, who
feared to leave her daughter at a distance, without the protection of the
kind relative, who had now retired from service. On her return,
Elizabeth resided in her own family, and followed the business she had
been taught; but her residence at home was under somewhat new
circumstances. At this period certain means of instruction were offered
to the young people of the parish, which, under Divine help, were
peculiarly calculated to meet her opening mind. These means were 1st, a
Bible Class, and 2nd, a meeting of women, belonging to the Church, for
the more especial object of Social Prayer. Both of these she frequently
acknowledged to have been of great advantage to her.
In the Bible Class, the Scriptures were read, and generally explained,
whilst the object constantly kept in view was to fix the word on the
conscience of the young people. Each one of these were invited to repeat
some portion of Scripture or a hymn, selected by themselves. The meeting
of women was under the immediate. direction of the minister, but presided
over by Mrs. Cunningham: in it the word of God was read, and a review
taken of the sermons of the preceding Sunday. Two or three of the
members were then at liberty to engage in prayer. In the latter years of
her life, Elizabeth occasionally offered up prayer. These meetings were
generally seasons of edification to her, and very much tended to
establish her religious mind: they had also the effect of uniting her
with those of our Church who were likeminded. Their general result I
have found to be greatly beneficial to the Church itself. It was
observed by her relations that from the time of Elizabeth’s first
attendance on these occasions, she devoted herself more entirely to the
service of God. Her conduct was altered: she became more serious, and
she had more love for the Scriptures, and as the necessary consequence,
other books were laid aside: her natural fretfulness was also brought
under, and her character assumed that sweetness and quietness which it
retained till the end. For two or three years she went on in this
course. She was laborious in gaining her livelihood, and as her health
was never strong, after her return home she occupied herself at
needle-work, at which, however, through the indulgence of her parent, she
was not required to labour more than suited her health.
She was habitually, and by principle, industrious, feeling that it was
equally a Christian duty to be diligent in business, as to be fervent in
spirit, serving the Lord. I do not remember any circumstances relating
to her history at this period which were of importance. For two or three
years she pursued the even tenor of her way. She was dutiful to her
parents, kind to all around her, serviceable to the Church, and in every
way an ornament to her Christian profession. The work of conversion was
obviously going on in her soul. The fulfilment of every duty, private
and public, gave full proof of it.
It was about the year 1833 that she had the offer made of a situation in
a gentleman’s family, of which the religious habits were particularly
suited to her. Into this family she entered, and was absent for about
three years in a distant part of the kingdom. During this time she had a
severe attack of illness, which resulted in her return home. But as this
new state of servitude was somewhat of a trial to her, and it had its
peculiar burden in her weak state of health, and with her naturally
anxious habit of mind, so it was calculated to exhibit the strength of
principle which she had attained. I am glad to be able to bring forward
a witness of her conduct as a servant during this period. When she was
dead I wrote to her late master, to ask about her, and I subjoin a part
of his reply in his own words.
_Brighton_, _July_ 28.
“MY DEAR FRIEND,
“Though we cannot but lament the removal of such manifestly bright
saints as E. C. from this our lower earth, yet every such removal is
like a door opened in heaven; and one seems to hear her peaceful
spirit saying to us, “Be followers of me, and of them who have
inherited the promises.” Blessed are such dead who die in the Lord.
As long as E. C. was in my service, I always considered her as one of
the most perfect characters I had ever seen. She was with us, I
should think, about three years.
“She always seemed to me a model of Christian deportment as a
servant, for I never saw one ruffle or ripple in the even stream of
her temper; I never saw her upset or put out by any hasty order or
word which I might have spoken. She was evidently always at rest in
Jesus—enjoying very unusually peace and joy in believing—and this was
no doubt granted to a more simple and consistent _obedience_ than is
generally seen in professors of our days. The characteristic graces
of her state appeared to me humility and quiet contentment in her
situation of life. She had no high sounding profession, but all was
a meek, yet very firm, testimony to that blessed Master’s grace who
had “wrought all her works in her.”
“When _servants_ are really thus Christian, they do especially
_adorn_ the Gospel of God their Saviour. “Exhort servants to be
obedient unto their own masters, and to please them well in all
things, not answering again, not purloining, but shewing all good
fidelity, that they may adorn the doctrines of God our Saviour in all
things.” Titus ii. 9.
“She did this most eminently. Of course I can say little more: the
incidents in a servant’s life are generally so few. Hers was a
blessed constancy, an even flow of calm and established piety.”
* * * * * * * * *
The testimony of this letter to the character of Elizabeth, as a servant,
is remarkable. ‘Not one ruffle or ripple in the even stream of her
temper,’ of this naturally anxious, and even fretful, girl. ‘Never upset
or put out by any hasty order or word:’ ‘_consistent obedience_:’
‘humility and quiet contentment in her situation in life,’ marking all
her course. How truly may we feel with her master that all this was a
strong testimony to the grace of that blessed Saviour, who had “wrought
all her works in her.” Yet what encouragement does this case afford to
many others who are engaged in domestic service. She fulfilled her duty
as unto the Lord, and of her Master in heaven she will doubtless receive
her reward.
Elizabeth now having returned home, took her place in the parish. She
sought to be serviceable to others as well as to gain her livelihood: she
was a constant helper to the ministry, and a great comfort to her
parents, with whom she dwelt. Her religious mind appeared to be
continually progressing. At the close of the year 1836, she began a
private journal, which has been lent to me. It contains chiefly notes of
sermons which she heard, and of the impression which they produced on her
mind. How happy it is when the soul is brought so to hunger and thirst
after righteousness, that it feeds upon all the food which is presented
to it; when the means of grace are used not without profit, when sermons
are listened to, and applied to the heart, when the word of God is read,
and marked, and inwardly digested, so that the hope of everlasting life
is embraced, and held fast. It was so with Elizabeth C.
No word seemed to be received without attention and application. I wish
that her example may be followed in this matter, and with the same
blessing. I will now make some extracts from her journal; they will
serve to shew the very inside of her mind. It begins Dec. 18, 1836.
‘Mr. C. preached from Isaiah xl. 3, 5. I felt my mind much impressed
with the sermon. O that the Lord may remove every mountain that impedes
my way to Him.’ Saturday being the last day of the year she writes—‘When
I look back on the past year, how many short comings and backslidings,
how much coldness and lukewarmness have I to mourn over: O blessed Lord,
enable me to dedicate myself afresh to thy service, in entering upon
another year, and do thou pardon all that is passed.’ January 1. ‘The
first text which caught my eye this morning was Isaiah i. 25. “O blessed
Lord, purge away all my sins, and make me to walk humbly before thee.”
Mr. C. preached from Rom. xii. 1, 2. How was my mind impressed when he
pointed out the necessity of giving the whole heart to God. I was led to
pray earnestly that the Lord would enable me to do so for Jesus sake.
January 2. Attended a Prayer Meeting at the Vicarage, to implore the
outpouring of the Spirit. O Lord, hear the prayers which have this day
been offered up. January 15. Mr. C. preached from 1 Cor. ii. 9. The
sermon was truly interesting and affecting, as he spoke to us of the
death of two individuals, Mrs. R., and Mrs. C., well known to us, who
died under very affecting circumstances. Mr. C. pointed out what it was
to love the Lord, and what was prepared for them that love him. We have
no doubt but our dear friends are now enjoying those things which are
prepared for the righteous. O blessed Lord, prepare me for every change
and condition of life; but above all prepare me for death, that I may be
ready to meet thee with joy.’
I may be permitted to digress from my subject for a few moments, to
relate the history of the two individuals alluded to. The elder of the
two died full of years, many of which had been spent in the Service of
God. She was 91 years of age, and the Parent, in the fourth generation,
of a large number of our Congregation. Although surrounded by many
witnesses at her death, she departed so quietly, that none could know
when she took her flight. Of her it might be truly said, she had “fallen
asleep in Christ.” The other individual was Mary Rackham. She was the
Mother of a large family; she acted a prominent part in her husband’s
much frequented Butcher’s shop, and this brought her into the observation
of the whole Parish. She was well known by her constant attention to
business, being inferior to none in the active pursuit of her daily
duties. She was confessedly the woman in the parish, who appeared to me
to have the largest share of varied occupation. She was however in the
midst of all her duties, distinguished for her obliging manners to all
about her. In her family, the utmost good order and consistency were
observed.
She had lost one child, whom she trusted she had trained for God, and now
her longing anxiety was, that all the rest of her family should follow in
the same course. How entirely her heart was set upon this I could well
judge, who was often led into conversation with her on that subject. But
her labours and conflicts, and her victory in her own soul were still
more conspicuous. She was naturally of an eager and sanguine
temperament, but that this had an entirely new and spiritual direction
was manifest to all. Her disposition was not to entertain high notions
of herself; yet was she confident in her Saviour, and she never testified
any doubt as to her portion in Him. Her zeal for the Service of God was
very great, and her attendance at his house, considering her
circumstances, was remarkable. On Thursday Evening, as on Sunday, she
was always to be found in her place. She was an attendant at the latest
Sacrament, and twice at the services on the last Sunday of her life. But
her seasons of private devotion were as regularly maintained. She was
watchful to secure her morning and evening retirement;—and in order to
keep up the Spirit of devotion, which she feared might flag through the
hurry of business; she constantly retired in the middle of the day, when
her business had a pause, for the purposes of reading and devotional
exercises. She was a member, and a constant attendant, when she was
able, on the Society for Social prayer. She died after her confinement;
and we had the opportunity of witnessing only an awful, but a calm and
cheerful delirium which filled up her latest hours. But a more beautiful
and instructive example of holy devotedness to every duty, performed in
the faith of Christ, we could scarcely have had the opportunity of
witnessing, than that which she exhibited in her daily walk and
conversation. She died at the age of 35 years, leaving five children
behind her.
The Journal of E. C. goes on. ‘Thursday Evening, March 5. Mr. Hogarth
preached from 2 Cor. v. He described the body as a tent, which must soon
be dissolved, and the miseries of the wicked, who have no hope beyond
this life. None said Mr. H., but the followers of Christ can take up the
language of the text. Enable me, O Lord, thine unworthy servant,
experimentally to feel that I, even I, have a building of God, an house
not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. March 8. Mr. C. spoke of a
dear Christian friend, S. J. who was called to put off her earthly
tabernacle last Sabbath. We feel assured she had a building of God, an
house prepared for her disembodied Spirit—to her, said Mr. C. may the
text be applied. “Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into
the Joy of thy Lord.” Give me grace, O Lord, to improve the talent
committed to me, that when thou callest me to give up my account, I may
be ready as thy servant was.’ Susan Jones, the person here alluded to,
was an individual of great interest. She illustrated a valuable little
tract, entitled the “_Single talent well employed_.” She was one of
three sisters, who lived together in Lowestoft. She had resided with a
family in Scotland, whose testimony to her worth, as well as that of the
heads of the family in which she died, I shall venture to insert. She
was one of the brightest ornaments of our little Christian Society, and
much beloved by all who knew her. I will copy the account of her
inscribed in the memoranda of a friend.
‘This morning’s post brought me the tidings of dear Susan Jones’
death, or rather of her being on the point of death, and a request
that I would inform her sisters of it. Another valued member of our
Society, a true sister in the Lord—one much beloved by us and by many
here is now departed! The letter was from Mr. S. a Clergyman, with
whom she had been staying at Woodbridge about three months, in order
to nurse Mrs. S. in her confinement.’
The following is an extract of his letter.
‘Poor dear Susan was apparently well this morning, and engaged as
usual, till about 11 o’clock; when upon her stooping down, she felt
an acute pain; but as she was subject to this, we were not
alarmed.—Finding, however, that the pain continued, we sent for our
medical attendant. The suffering for a short time became acute, and
the symptoms so alarming, that it was soon evident there was no hope
of her life. It is considered that a vessel near the heart had given
way, and that she is sinking from internal bleeding. She is indeed
as one fallen asleep. Her mind is calm, and her heart is
_fixed_;—her gratitude to God, her patience, love, _humility_,
combined with simple trust, are all so conspicuous, that I cannot
perceive which is the greatest. She appears not to have a thought in
the world, and has not said one word regarding it. Her thoughts are
all towards God, and the voice of praise and prayer to him, for
spiritual blessings are her only theme. “Thy will be done,” seems
the first and uppermost feeling of her heart. You may feel assured
when you receive this, that her Spirit is in Heaven, with her beloved
Saviour. All her words are now either to, or of her God and Saviour,
and she appears to have closed her senses to this trying scene. Her
bodily sufferings now are small. I feel as though in parting from
her, I was losing one of my best friends, and I only pray that the
Almighty, in his mercy, may so help me, that I may see dear Susan in
another and better world. With every good wish and prayer,’
Believe me,
Yours faithfully,
J. P. S.’
February 27th. ‘Received this morning the account of dear Susan Jones’s
death. The following is an extract from Mr. S’s. second letter.’
‘Poor dear Susan was called away a few hours sooner than we expected.
She breathed her last a quarter before one o’clock this morning, when
she exchanged a Sabbath day on earth, for an eternal Sabbath in
heaven. I feel as strong a confidence that she is now in glory, as I
can feel of any person I ever knew. The verse for the day in the
Christian Almanack, 26th February, is, “There remaineth, therefore, a
rest for the people of God,” as it were greeting me on my coming down
stairs this morning, with a most welcome and appropriate assurance,
and as it were in confirmation of my feelings. All I can say of her
in her life, and in her death, would come short of the reality, and I
can only hope and pray that I may be kept from abusing the privilege
I have had in her friendship; and that her image and example may, by
God’s blessing, be the means of assisting my weakness, and helping me
on to an _entrance_ into glory for ever and ever with her!’
May we seek to follow her humble and Christian course, blameless and
harmless as she was, loved by all, and loving all. She was not quick to
discover, or speak of the faults of others, being too humbly alive to her
own. I never remember to have left her after the fullest communications
with her, distressed or perplexed by histories of others, and their
faults and failings; over these she drew the curtain, and fixed her eye
_only upon her own_. She introduced the subject of other people only to
speak kindly and affectionately of them: she appeared “without
partiality,” nor had she that selfishness which soon takes affront: I
never knew her vexed with any one for supposed unkindness or neglect: she
seemed always to think she received more than she deserved. O may we all
have grace to follow her in this, and in many other of her Christian
virtues.
When thus suddenly seized, and with nothing but death before her, her
soul was found perfectly _staid_. No distressing fears or conflicts
overwhelmed her; but she met the summons with perfect fortitude and
resignation. When Mr. S. said to her, ‘Dear Susan, do you not feel
afraid?’ ‘O no, sir, I have no fear; I am leaning on the arm of Jesus,
He is my support—He is holding me behind and before. God has laid his
hand upon me: His will be done; He will keep me, He will support me.’
The sting of death seemed entirely withdrawn, and the glorious hope of
being for ever with the Lord, swallowed up all pain in quitting this
valley of tears. O the blessedness of living thus in preparation for
death! May the instructive lesson sink deeply into all our hearts,
leading us to a watchful circumspect devotion to our God and Saviour;
that, when he shall please to call us, we may say with her, ‘_ready_,
_Lord_, _ready_.’
As it was my painful office to inform her dear sisters of the affecting
event of Susan’s seizure and probable departure at that moment, I went in
after the service on Sunday morning. At the moment of my entry, Hannah
was reading a paper she held in her hand. I asked them if they had heard
any thing of Susan. ‘Not very lately; but we have just been reading a
paper of her’s we found in her Bible.’ These were the words:—‘O my dear
sisters, we have now began another year, O may we live it _fit to die_,
should we be called away before it is past. This day I have been to hear
Mr. Salmon, and we had a most excellent sermon from Zechariah i. 5.
“Your fathers, where are they?” God bless you both.—Susan Jones.’
This seemed a merciful preparation for breaking to them the sorrowful
tidings, which I did, as carefully as possible, endeavouring to arm them
with Christian feeling of dependance upon God, and with sense of His
presence and love in this event. They were not at first so overwhelmed
as I expected: they were deeply attached to each other, and nothing could
exceed the careful and affectionate manner in which Susan had nursed
Elizabeth in a long and painful illness. Her watchful affection had
bound them still more closely together.
Elizabeth Jones has since died, and has left ample testimony to her faith
in the Lord Jesus Christ, and her meetness to appear in the presence of
God, through the merit of her Saviour. We had most interesting and
satisfactory testimonies of Susan Jones’s character from others. Lady H.
thus writes of her in a letter to Elizabeth.
‘You cannot doubt how great were my feelings of sorrow, when I heard
of the decease of my faithful friend, your dear sister Susan; indeed
I hardly think any such event, out of my own family, could have
grieved us all so deeply. Almost the last words I ever heard from
her were, ‘if I am gone when you return to England, never sorrow for
your poor old servant.’ But I do sorrow for her very deeply, and
shall always think that I have lost a faithful friend, one who did me
and my children good, and not evil, during all those days of her life
which she spent with me, and I am very sure she has continued to do
us good by the hearty prayers she addressed for us, to Him whose eyes
are in every place. Her unwearied kindness to my children, I never
did, and never could, repay; I allude chiefly to the good principles
she taught them, of love to God, love to their parents, to one
another, and to all their brethren of mankind. O happy mother shall
I be, if my offspring depart not from the ways which their old nurse
taught them.
‘When I was at the Lord’s table last Sunday, I thought of Susan, who
had so often been there with her master and me. I was prepared to
remember her when we are directed to bless the Lord ‘for all his
servants departed this life in His faith and fear,’ whose good
example, whatever their station in this world may have been, we pray
for grace to follow.’
But I will return to some portions of E. C’s. journal. ‘March 12.
Attended the Prayer Meeting as usual in the morning.’ This meeting was
held on the Sabbath morning at 9 o’clock, and is composed of a few
persons who meet together to ask a blessing on the coming means of grace.
‘I felt my mind,’ she says, ‘much drawn out in prayer. The meeting was
lively, and I trust the Lord was with us, though some of the weakest of
his creatures. In the morning, Mr. C. preached from Hebrews ix. 13, 14,
the first part considering what it was to purge the conscience from dead
works. He spoke not only of the dead works of the unconverted, but also
of the dead works of the Christian. How often is he found hard-hearted,
and cold, and lukewarm, and too often bringing forth fruit to the
dishonour of God. What then but the blood of Christ can cleanse him from
his dead works. Lord, give me grace and faith to apply to that blood
continually.’ So did she speak of her own _deficiencies_. Next she
speaks of her own _labours_ on the same day. ‘Attended the school in the
afternoon. O Lord, bless and own my poor labours. Enable me to teach
for Thee, that thy name may be glorified.’ Passing over a portion of her
journal, she comes to ‘April 16. Mr. Hoare preached from Hebrews ix.
14–16. He beautifully described how Christ was the High Priest of his
people; how He atoned for their sins by shedding his own blood; and how
he entered into the Holiest of Holies, where he ever liveth to make
intercession for them. He also spoke of the tenderness of Christ;
whereby he sympathized, and of his power, whereby He was able to save to
the uttermost all that come to God by Him. He most earnestly entreated
the trembling believer to come boldly to One who was both able and
willing to save him.’ Her own reflections on this sermon may be gathered
from the expressions she has applied to it.
‘Mr. Swanison from Jer. xxxi. 18–20. In the conduct of Ephraim teaching
us the nature of true repentance. The prayer of Ephraim shews the change
in his mind. He entreats God to turn him, feeling that he cannot turn
himself. He feels and owns he has been a rebel, but he relies on the
Lord to turn him and to pardon all his sins. Here we see the mercy and
the love of God displayed. He does not receive the repentant sinner as a
servant, but he calls him his dear son. Oh what encouragement to the
poor returning sinner, to know that God, whom he feels that he has
offended, earnestly remembers him still.’
I am glad to make extracts from the sermons of many of my dear fellow
helpers in the gospel, who have been working with me in this field of
labour, and who have each,—one planting, and another watering, but God
giving the increase;—been so honoured as to give suitable culture to a
plant of the Lord, whom they will one day meet in glory, in the heavenly
paradise. I also make these extracts, that we may be enabled to trace
the means by which the mind of our departed friend, was furnished with
food convenient for its growth in grace and holiness.
‘May 21. Attended the morning Prayer Meeting. Felt rather dead in
prayer. May the Lord quicken my affections and warm my cold heart.’
‘Mr. C. from Amos viii. 8, 9. Sermon on the Jews. He spoke much on the
fulfilment of prophecy; the Lord, in various places, threatening to
disperse and destroy this people, but not make a full end, &c. &c. O
Blessed Lord, give me to live, that I neglect not this message, for if
thou spared not the natural branches, neither wilt thou spare me if I
neglect thy word. Lord, give me thy Spirit, and guide me in all my ways,
for thy dear Son’s sake.’
Passing over other subjects, we may take the effect produced on her mind,
by one of the social meetings before alluded to.
‘Monday Evening, Sept. 1. Attended Mrs. C.’s meeting. Mrs. C. spoke
much of the Omnipresence of God. I felt the subject very much, and I was
enabled to pour out my soul in prayer. Surely the Lord’s presence was
with us at that time. O blessed Lord, keep me humble; empty me entirely
of self, that my unworthy services may be acceptable in thy sight.’ It
is plain by this passage, that she had felt the approach of temptation,
but she met it in the spirit of watchfulness and prayer.
On another occasion, she says, ‘I attended the meeting. I trust the Lord
was with our little party, and that he will hear and answer prayer. I
feel my own weakness, and utter unworthiness in approaching thee, O Lord,
but look thou in mercy upon me; pardon my sins, forgive my iniquities,
and let not the imperfections of my prayers render them odious in thy
sight. Thou Lord, knowest my weakness; O strengthen me that I may be
enabled to confess thee with more boldness; but O keep me humble.’
‘Oct. 15. This Morning, the Rev. D. Hogarth preached from Malachi ii. 2,
3. O Blessed Jesus, do thou purify and cleanse my soul from the dross of
sin, which I feel still hinders me from enjoying the light of thy
countenance. O remove the veil from mine eyes, and sin from my heart,
that I may see and understand what thy will is; do thou enlighten and
guide me in thy way.’
An event now occurred in the family of Elizabeth Cullingham, of the
deepest interest and importance. This was the death of her Father. On
Monday, Jan. 8, 1838, about two o’clock in the afternoon, a foreign ship
came in sight, and hoisted a flag for a Pilot. She was about ten miles
from the shore, but although the weather was threatening, and the evening
approaching, it seemed practicable to reach the ship; and as it was
suspected, that others might be in the offing, which would likewise
require assistance, two Pilots put off, with thirteen men in one yawl,
and one Pilot with twenty-one in another. The dangers which might have
terrified ordinary men, did not prevent these brave seamen from
encountering the perils which threatened them in the way of duty.
It was a maxim of James Cullingham, that he ought, in his duty as a
Pilot, to fear no danger, and that whenever others would take him, he
should go. The yawls carried their mainsails at first, and expected to
reach their object. But the vessel, instead of keeping its first course
towards the boats, when they were five or six miles from the shore, stood
out to sea. The yawls therefore, in their effort to reach the ship, were
carried far from land,—and daylight drew to a close before the men were
aware of their situation.
The wind meantime arose, and the snow drifted heavily. The greatest
anxiety was soon felt by all on shore. The scene which presents itself
on these occasions, may be conceived, but not described. Fathers,
Mothers, Wives, Sisters, Brothers, and Children, are seen intently
watching every change in the sky and waves, eagerly gazing upon the
distance to catch a glimpse of the absent objects of their love: grasping
every phantom of hope which may present itself; but at length—convinced
by some undoubted sign, that they must hope no more.—Many are the vows
which are then made; many are the prayers which are then offered. The
watching and suspense, however, were in this case, soon at an end. At
seven o’clock one of the yawls through great danger, reached the shore,
and this left no doubt as to the loss of the other, in which was James
Cullingham, and another Pilot. It is supposed this yawl, the ‘Peace,’ in
endeavouring to get into the gat-way, had missed the light, it being
thick with snow, that she got into broken water, and had gone down. But
none were left to tell the tale of woe. The boat itself, sometime
afterwards, was washed on shore, a complete wreck. Very few of the
bodies were recovered: but amongst the number, that of James Cullingham
was found, very remarkably, eight months afterwards. Twelve widows and
thirty two children, were in consequence of this disaster, left
destitute. This was, indeed, a night of agony, to numbers on shore.
Still the possibility of escape presented itself to their minds, but it
was hoping against hope. Yet was every one afraid of acknowledging to
the chief mourners, what in their own minds was their fixed opinion, that
no chance remained. None would, at all events, be the first to declare
the awful truth to those broken hearted sufferers.
But there must have been a scene even more affecting than the one now
recorded. In the boat were fifteen men, who were in the very jaws of
destruction. One other heave of the impetuous sea, and their state was
fixed, fixed for ever. Some of them, perhaps, had been drunkards, or
Sabbath breakers, or neglecters of Religion; but now they were called at
once to give account of what they had done, and what they had left
undone, and nothing could be left, to which they might look forward, but
the punishment which awaits the sinner. It is impossible to conceive a
scene more really appalling, although outwardly its awfulness might be
concealed by the anxiety and efforts which it caused. But to think of
the never-dying soul, hitherto uncared for, unprepared with all its sins
upon it, hurried in one moment into judgment, and to the wages of its
transgressions, is awful indeed! What may have been the case of these
men, the day of Judgment will disclose. “Blessed are the dead which die
in the _Lord_.” That it was the portion of James Cullingham so to die,
we can have no doubt. His faith, his converted heart, evidenced by his
life, afford a warrant of good hope as to his condition. He lived to
Christ, and death was doubtless gain to him. Whether at sea, or on his
bed, he might sink in peace, for a joyful inheritance would await him.
But what was the lot of the mourners in his own bereaved family on that
sad night? James Cullingham had left his house in the morning, and that
he was gone, was probably not more noticed than at other times. It was
expected that the yawl which took him out, would in due course return.
Soon however, alarm arose on the beach, and rapidly spread itself in the
town. In the evening, it was naturally expected that some news would
come from the Pilots, for the boat which conveyed them to the vessels
must of necessity return. But no news arrived. Elizabeth had been sent
to bed by her Mother, who with her other daughter sat alone in the house
in the deepest anxiety. The wind became very tempestuous. The snow
drifted. A solemn awe was spread over the cottage. But there was
nothing to be done, but to wait, and pray, and to support the mind in
silence; still hoping that every moment would bring them tidings.
The eldest daughter at length went up stairs, leaving her Mother alone.
The three brothers had been on the beach; and soon apprehending the real
state of the case; they had scattered themselves on the coast, several
miles to the southward, hoping that the boat might be driven on shore in
that direction. Meanwhile a universal apprehension was spread abroad,
and every one who knew how deeply the news would affect the family of
James Cullingham forbore to come to the house, lest they might be the
involuntary means of conveying the sad intelligence. The Mother sat
alone till the morning, at this time a stranger unwittingly revealed the
extent of the calamity. She was heard passing the road, when the anxious
wife went to the door to ask whether she had heard any thing of the yawl.
She replied, unconscious to whom she was speaking. “_Nothing_. _It will
never come back again_!” The awful fact now broke in upon the mind of
Mrs. Cullingham. At once she understood that all was lost; she received
the news however, without any outcry or lamentation. But it sunk deeply
within. Her expression to her daughter was, ‘your Father is gone, he is
safely arrived, I shall join him in Heaven.’ She never once was heard to
murmur. But the blow was intensely severe, and the weight of sorrow
seemed to be borne alike, by the daughters and the Mother. It may be
said to have been the death signal at a more remote period of Elizabeth,
as well as of her Mother. Neither of them ever recovered their health.
To the Widow the loss was in all respects very great. It might truly be
said of her and her husband, “they were pleasant in their lives, and in
their death they were not divided.” In a very few months, she was called
to follow him. A large subscription which was raised, chiefly at a
distance from home, together with the property of her husband, and the
assistance of her Children, left the Mother of Elizabeth in no want as to
her worldly circumstances. But the suddenness, and the manner of her
husband’s death, and the haunting reflection that his body was yet
unburied, left a sort of wretchedness in her mind, which nothing but her
faith and hope could subdue. Her mode of life was now some what altered.
She had more time to read the Scriptures, which she did every afternoon,
as well as morning and evening. But in the month of March, she was
attacked with a paralytic stroke. This was not violent, and it affected
her body more than her mind. It was a time of deep heart searching to
her, and of preparation for her end. Her mind might be said to dwell in
heavenly hope. She was deeply earnest in her devotions. I have entered
her room, and finding her intent in prayer, have retired unobserved. Her
mind was not easily distracted when employed in communing with God. But
her state was not happy; she was oppressed with the sensation of her
disorder, and she continued to feel intensely the circumstances of her
husband’s death, and to mourn over his undiscovered and unburied body.
At length however, it pleased God to relieve her from one of these causes
of grief, by a remarkable interposition of his favor. By a very singular
accident, her husband’s body was washed on shore in the month of October,
many miles from the place where he was lost. It had been lying nearly
nine months in the sea, and, on reaching the shore, had been found, and
buried. Information having been given that a body had been so found, it
was disinterred, and identified by his children. It was then brought
home to Lowestoft, where it now lies in our churchyard, among the remains
of different members of his family. This was an occasion which
peculiarly called out the gratitude of his widow. After this event, she
recovered the full powers of her mind. During the remaining few weeks of
her life, she seemed to have gained clearer assurance of her own safety,
and a more joyful hope and anticipation of future blessedness. Her state
of conflict was now changed to one of full assurance of hope. One
remarkable scene of her last days, of which I was a witness, I will
relate in Elizabeth’s words, copied from her journal. On the day of her
mother’s death she writes, ‘The Lord has been pleased to take my dear
mother out of this state of trial and suffering. How calm, how patient
she was through her long and painful illness. No murmuring, no repining
ever escaped her lips. Her end was peace. Mr. C. called to see her on
the Sunday evening: she was then able to speak only at intervals. He
spoke to her of the joys of heaven. She appeared to take no notice for
some moments, when suddenly reaching forth her hand to heaven, she
exclaimed, _Christ there_! Then bringing it back, and laying it on her
heart, she said, _Christ here_!’ How expressive were these simple words
of her state of mind, and of her hope in her Redeemer. On this day she
spoke to me of ‘going home,’ which was the view she entertained of her
departure. On the last morning of her life she made sign to her daughter
to read to her: she read part of John xiv. The mother then clasped her
hands in prayer. This was nearly the last act of her life. She seemed
now to be peculiarly alive to the reality of the presence of her Lord and
Saviour as the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and that by Him a heavenly
mansion had been prepared for her. Her room had been a kind of shelter
from the bustle and confusion of the world around, and her daughters, who
in turn remained at home on the Sabbath day, and read the service of the
Church to her, testified of the comfort which those seasons of retirement
ministered to them. These were, indeed, times of refreshment from the
Lord. A friend of her’s thus describes an interview which she had with
her a short time before her death. ‘I had delightful communication with
her just before I left home: I sat by her bed-side, and we talked much on
the eternal state. She was entirely sensible, could look at the
approaching dissolution of her body with perfect peace. We spoke of the
heavenly Jerusalem, and of the joyful prospect before her of entering
into rest: her faith was strong and clear. She renounced every thing in
herself, and through the unmerited mercy of her dear Redeemer, she felt
assured that her sins were pardoned, and that an abundant entrance would
be ministered to her into the everlasting kingdom of her God and Saviour.
Her life of faith, and of active duty, and her death, so cheered by
confidence in the Good Shepherd, afforded the fullest warrant of this
blessed end of all her labours and her trials.’
I must now carry back this memoir to the beginning of the year. A
funeral sermon was preached on the occasion of the death of James
Cullingham. He was a communicant, and his character called for this
public notice. Advantage was taken of the same occasion to speak of the
death of another individual, a friend of Elizabeth and her mother, and I
believe of most of the servants of God, who came within her reach in our
little flock. This was Mary Smith. Her husband’s shop in which she
served, made her well known in the parish, and enabled her to do much for
others, and thus brought into view most of the infirmities which belonged
to her nature. She was a woman of very marked and zealous character,
well known to those about her, both in her natural and her renewed state.
In both she was industrious and kind-hearted, a good wife, mother, and
neighbour; but in her former state very clearly without that feeling of
religion which marked her latter years. Indeed it may be said that she
had gone so far as to ‘persecute that way which she afterwards followed.’
She was a very marked instance of an entire change of heart, by the power
of the Holy Spirit. The natural ardour of her mind was sanctified in her
converted state; it worked with the same power, but in another direction,
and under another influence: she traced the change in her mind to a
sermon which she heard on Phil. ii. 12. She then set conscientiously
about working out her salvation, and she found her heavenly Father, ever
ready to work in her, both to will and to do of his good pleasure. Her
sense of this marked interference of the divine power on her behalf was
never lost sight of; for the anniversary of the day when she first gave
heed to the message of salvation, she remembered with much feeling. Of
her domestic character, those who have lived with her have spoken to me,
and have borne high testimony to her as a wife and a mother, and during
her employment in the business of her shop. Her will became remarkably
subjected to the will of God in all things. It may be truly said, that
she did her duties as “to the Lord.” She had a very praiseworthy habit
of praying with her children, whenever she found them in fault. Her
religious character was marked by a strict conformity to the doctrines of
the Church, of which she was a consistent, faithful, zealous member. In
attendance on its services she had been brought to the knowledge of
salvation, and she continued to walk in the truest submission, and the
most lively attachment to its ministry. In another point she has left us
an example. She was ever particularly alive to watch for the souls of
others, to lead them forward, and to draw them to seek God. There are
many now living who could bear witness to the earnestness, with which she
sought to warn the unconverted, to reclaim the wanderer, to recover the
backslider.
Her kindness to her poor neighbours was remarkable. Her medical man
informed me, that he scarcely ever went into her house, without her first
asking him about some one who wanted relief, which relief she was always
eager to give according to her means, and many were the portions which
her provision-shop supplied. Few ministers have had a more valuable
‘helper,’ in all respects. I must add a short account of her, given to
me in writing by one in her own house, who, at the time when she, Mrs. S.
was opposed to spiritual religion, had chosen another fold than the
Church of England in which to seek the way of salvation. This testimony
is therefore not given in ignorance of her real character, or in undue
partiality to her principles.
After speaking of the striking circumstances of her conversion, the paper
goes on to say, ‘The words of the Apostle were fulfilled in her. “If any
man be in Christ he is a new creature. Old things are passed away,
behold, all things are become new.” Yes, I know the truth of this, for I
have seen it in her who is departed. Indeed she has proved to all around
her, that she was a faithful follower of the Lord Jesus Christ; not one
who said, “Lord, Lord,” but in works denied him.
‘She showed her love to God by keeping His commandments. I have known
her, many and many a time, sacrifice her own comforts to relieve her poor
neighbours. I have known her take her clothes from her back, and her
shoes from her feet. It was her delight to do her heavenly Father’s will
in all things. She was determined, as far as she was able, to do good to
all, especially to those of the household of faith. She was one who
visited the sick and afflicted, the fatherless and widow, and strove to
keep herself unspotted from the world. Her views of herself were truly
humble: she took the word of God for her guide. She did not shun to
reprove sin, but knowing the terror of the Lord, she sought to persuade
her fellow-sinners to be reconciled to God. She sought after backsliders
with great care and perseverance, and aimed to encourage those that stood
fast in the Lord. Her love of the means of grace, both public and
private, was very great, and witnessed by her regular attendance on them.
Her patience in her affliction, and resignation to the will of God, was
indeed striking. Her sufferings and trials had been many in life, “but
not too many,” as she said on her dying bed. The cup had been wisely
mixed by her heavenly Father.’
January 2. She began to complain of her head, and the next day she was
wholly confined to her bed. Two days after, she became so weak as to be
unable to help herself. On Sunday the 7th she took but little notice.
She was then asked, whether she was happy. She replied, ‘Oh, yes, very
happy, very happy: Christ very precious to me.’ At another time she was
asked, whether she could say, with the Apostle, that she was “ready to be
offered up?” ‘Oh yes,’ she said. On Monday, speaking of death as the
gate of life, she said, ‘O blessed gate—it is the gate of heaven to me:’
and at another time, ‘Christ is all in all to me.’ On the following
morning she had the power of attention, and answered to the prayer of
others in a fervent Amen. So she departed in peace and blessedness.
* * * * *
I must now return to the history of Elizabeth Cullingham. Deep and
constant was her grief at her father’s death. She sympathized with her
family; but she had then the pleasing task of waiting on her mother
through her long affliction, and never was nursing more tenderly
ministered, or more kindly received than by these two sisters, and their
sinking parent. If there was some variety in their form of worship,
their feelings were the same. To gratify their mother’s wishes was next
to the love of God, the main object with her daughters. With her
‘That constant flow of love, that knew no fall,
Ne’er roughened by those cataracts and breaks,
That humour interposed too often makes.’