‘I must indulge myself by writing a few lines to you, for my heart is
full to-night. We have lost our sweet young friend Elizabeth
Cullingham, in whom you were so much interested. Do not you remember
her spiritual and interesting prayer, the first morning I went with
you to the Sunday prayer meeting? I recollect introducing her to
you. She was indeed a true christian. I never recollect to have
heard any one find the slightest fault with her, nor had I myself
ever occasion to do so in all the intercourse I have had with her,
during the last nine years. Her’s was indeed a chaste conversation,
coupled with fear. It was not the outward adorning of wearing of
gold, or of putting on of apparel, but the ornament of a meek and
quiet Spirit, which shone most conspicuously in her. Chastity,
meekness, and modesty were her striking characteristics. I am glad I
introduced you so particularly to her, and I think you will not
forget the sweet impression of those _visits_. Her lovely subdued
countenance, her neat appearance, the perfect consistency of her
dress, for she was always beautifully neat. I think—I may say I
never knew her expend money on ribbon or other unnecessary article in
dress. I mention this as it is a rare quality, even amongst the
sober and serious young people. The love of dressing beyond their
means and situation in life is so common a habit, and so great a
temptation to young people in general, that her correct conduct in
this respect, was one lovely fruit of having her affections set on
things above. O that our dear young people might see and feel the
beauty of this line of conduct. By her circumspect and careful
conduct, she silenced every tongue that could rise up against her.
The wandering and unsettled desire after pleasure, was quite subdued
in her. She was content to lead a quiet, sober, religious life. She
found it better to avoid the general society of young persons, and
was sweetly content in the situation in which God had placed her;
setting an example to other young women of the beauty of a retired
and modest demeanour, avoiding from taste, as well as principle, all
society that was not religious. She felt that light and trifling
intercourse with those whose hearts followed after vanity and
pleasure, was unprofitable and hurtful. O how blessed it is to see
young persons turn away from following vanity! To see as a fruit of
religion, a separation from the world, from the manners, the
appearance, and the spirit of it. I saw all this in Elizabeth. She
had for many years been a member of our women’s meeting, and though
one of the youngest, her ardent love of the ministry under which she
lived, her Christian experience, and occasionally her prayers, were a
help and comfort to our society, and she was most persevering, though
often very ill.
‘I must also notice her example in the house of God. There was no
lightness, or carelessness in her demeanour, but her mind seemed to
be filled with the sense of the divine presence, and to be thirsting
after the knowledge of his truth; she gave the deepest attention to
the preacher’s word. No religious mind can shew lightness in the
house of God. How often have I enjoyed sweet sympathy with her, when
sitting near her in her usual seat at St. Peter’s Chapel. Have we
not endeavoured to “pray with the Spirit, and to sing with the
understanding also?” I could weep from my heart to find her seat
empty. She met patiently her many trials, and meekly bowed her head
to the will of God. The awful death of her father in the yawl, had
deeply afflicted her; indeed she never recovered the shock: but I may
say, under every trial and bodily suffering, of which she had much, I
never heard her complain, but with calm serenity she yielded herself
unto the Lord.
‘I had the privilege of visiting her the day before her death, and
found her sweetly serene and happy, full of confidence in her
Saviour; delighting in prayer, and evidently finding it “sweet to lie
passive in her Saviour’s hands,” and to know no will but his. And
the next day, a few hours before her end, can I ever forget the
solemn impressive scene of our partaking of the body and blood of
Christ together in the Holy Sacrament; her deep attention—her
response to the words of the service—her fervent manner in taking the
bread, as a sign or seal of her living upon Christ, who was to her
soul the bread of life, and her drinking the wine as an emblem of
that blood, that she had felt to be so _precious_?’
‘After this solemn communion together, we united in earnest prayer
and thanksgiving on her account, that the works in her might be
finished in righteousness, and that she might soon find herself in
the glorious mansions prepared for her, by the beloved of her soul.
She appeared perfectly sensible, and able to taste this spiritual and
interesting communication with us. I then arose and took my leave of
her.’
The testimony of her friend is as follows:
‘During the ten years of my intercourse with her, I have found her
conversation as becometh the gospel of Christ. She has treated me at
all times with a sisterly affection and respect; I have proved her a
tried friend, one that would not forsake in time of trouble. Though
separated for three years, I always found her the same dear friend as
ever. I have often been cheered with her kind exhortation to me, to
seek with earnestness the Lord, and attend at all times the means of
grace, telling me they were indeed channels, through which the Lord
bestowed his blessings to his faithful followers. Though we were
separated in body, we were not separated in our union with Christ.
When I have needed reproof, she has given it to me, but in the
meekest manner possible. She was also very tender over the faults of
others. I never heard her speak unkindly of any one—“considering
herself, lest she also should be tempted.” She was most earnest for
a revival in religion, both in our own Church, and for the spread of
the gospel in distant lands. This was evident, both in her prayers
and her zeal in subscribing to different societies. How sorry are we
to lose her name from the number of those young people who are
interested in the Jews, for we always found her most willing to aid
in this delightful cause, and what she gave, seemed to be in the
spirit of prayer. How often I have heard her pour forth her heart in
prayer, that the Jews might be brought into the fold of Christ; and
truly we may say, concerning our Bible Association, which was formed
amongst a few of us, that indeed our head is gone. She was so deeply
interested in it, and did so long for the Anniversary Meeting, that
our subscription might be carried in, not to gain the praise of men,
but with a desire to do something for the glory of God. But she is
gone, and her works do follow her. May I always remember her
christian walk and conversation, for in her I saw the fruits of the
Spirit shine forth, for she was not desirous of vain glory, but in
all points, she esteemed others better than herself. Humbly do I
hope, that the grace which made her to differ, may constrain me to
walk in her steps.’
The commencement of the year 1840, the last year of Elizabeth’s life, is
noticed by her in her Journal, with her usual seriousness.
‘Through the mercy of God, I have been permitted to enter upon
another year; and O how much have I to thank him for the mercies of
the year that is passed. I have had many little illnesses, but the
Lord has in mercy spared me, while many that I know, have been
summoned to give up their account. O Lord what am I, that thou hast
spared me a worthless worm of the earth? O fill my heart with love
and gratitude for all thy mercies to me, and if my life be spared,
may it be entirely devoted to thy service. Great God, enable me to
live to thee. O let me enjoy all that I have, as coming from thee,
and whatever thou art pleased to take from me, take not away thy Holy
Spirit. O blessed Spirit, who art One with the Father, and the Son,
enter into my poor sinful heart, and root out all my sinful and
corrupt affections and reveal Jesus to me as all in all.’
As her time drew to a close, her conflicts do not seem to have been
lessened.
On March 24. She says, ‘Being off my guard this morning, the enemy
gained an advantage over me in my temper. Immediately I felt my sin, and
was led to cry out, “Against thee, thee only have I sinned.” I was
almost driven to despair, but these precious promises were applied, “If
any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the
righteousness,” and “the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin.” O my
God whom I have offended, let this be a warning to me to watch and pray,
that I enter not into temptation.’
On her birth-day she says, ‘I have passed another year of my life; but O
my God, how little to thy glory. I have been very much tried in my soul
of late. The enemy has been permitted to tempt me very much with
unbelief. Sometimes I question whether I am a Christian at all, yet my
desire is to love and serve my God. The conflict is sharp, yet do I
believe Jesus will deliver me. I do feel willing to part with any thing,
if Jesus smile upon me.’
‘On Sunday, heard a sermon from Mr. R. on these words, “There shall not a
hair of your head perish.” The sermon was delightfully encouraging. I
have felt the comfort of it during the last week, having had some little
perplexing things to meet. O how sweet to feel in the time of trial and
temptation, that nothing is unnoticed by our Heavenly Father.
‘Sunday, April 12. I feel my health very poorly. I know not what the
Lord is about to do with me. Whether life or death, Lord make me thine.
I desire to glorify thy name upon earth, and find my way to heaven.’
Her usual industry and care in recording the sermons she heard, appears
this year as it did the last. But I pass over all these records, and now
I come to the last entry of her Journal. It is dated April 17. Good
Friday.
‘I was informed divine service began half an hour later than it did.
I was therefore very late at Chapel, which vexed me very much. I
could not enjoy the service. My head is in a very bad state. The
enemy takes advantage of my bodily infirmities and sorely distresses
me. I was led this afternoon, earnestly to entreat the Lord to
direct my mind to some portion of his word for comfort. I prayed
with the Bible before me, and opened on 2 Cor. xii. 9. Satan then
seemed to say, this is not for you; but my God tells me, “His grace
is sufficient for me.” Lord, enable me to trust in thee.’
It was a strong act of faith, performed with suitable solemnity, which
made this young woman believe that she should find in the Bible an answer
to her prayer. But she did so in a remarkable manner, and having
received the direction to depend on the grace of God as sufficient for
her, how strikingly her faith led her to hold it fast, so that angel,
principality, or power could not separate her from it. But how
instructive is her example in dealing with temptation. She felt its
danger; she sought, as the weapon of defence, “the sword of the Spirit,
which is the word of God.” The Lord was pleased to direct her to a
suitable text. She received it in faith and obtained the victory. Most
gladly, therefore, might she with the Apostle, “glory in her infirmities,
that the power of Christ might rest upon her,” and say with him, “When I
am weak then am I strong.”’
The last months of Elizabeth’s life afforded her the means of quietly
pursuing her course in preparation for her end. She was unable to do
more than work at her needle. This however afforded her the opportunity
of calm and continual meditation. Her circumstances were entirely
favourable for her state of mind. Her kind brother who resided with her
and her sister made every effort to afford her relief. In the last ten
days of her life her symptoms became more decided: she laid aside her
work, and ceased to think of the things of the world. She herself was
not at that time able to read, but she could still listen to others. On
the Sunday evening the subject of heaven and reunion with those already
there, chiefly occupied her attention. Her state was calm and suffering,
but neither she, nor any one, thought her end was so near; but I will
give the account of this from her sister and constant companion.
‘The health of my dear sister had been some time declining; her last
illness was short and severe: she suffered much pain, but bore it
with Christian patience and resignation. Her weakness was extreme;
she could speak but little, but when able to converse, she would
freely tell me the state of her mind. She was indeed building on the
Rock of Ages, on the sure foundation; but she had humbling views of
herself, although sweet and exalted views of the Saviour. We did not
think death so near; but the last morning of her life a sudden change
took place, which was better perceived by those around her, than felt
by herself. As usual, in the morning we read and prayed together.
She joined with peculiar earnestness: but when I had risen from my
knees I could not refrain from weeping. I saw her hands darkened in
colour, which marked the alteration in her bodily state. She asked
me why I cried. I said, I am sorry to see you so ill. She answered,
‘I thought I was better this morning.’ With great anxiety I waited
the arrival of her medical attendant, and soon found my fears
respecting the near approach of death were not groundless. Upon my
again entering the room, she anxiously enquired the opinion of the
doctor. I told her as gently as the excited state of my feelings
would permit. I asked if she could rest her soul on Christ. She
said, “Yes, I feel peace; but O for a fuller assurance.” I told her
we had sent for Mr. C. and her brothers, at which she expressed great
satisfaction, and said, “I feel drowsy, but do not let me sleep; I
have no time for sleeping; I want to speak while I can.”’
When I arrived in her chamber, she said at once, ‘I think that I am
dying.’ I did not contradict her. She then expressed herself as not
feeling all that joy in her departure which she had hoped might have been
her portion. But the fact was, that a profound humility gave a tone to
all her feelings of herself. She put me in mind of the expression of Mr.
Simeon on his dying bed. ‘I think that if you should see me die, you
will not see me die triumphantly. No! triumph will not suit me till I
get to heaven. If I am admitted, as I hope to be there, then, if there
be one that will sing louder than the rest, I think I shall be that one;
but while here, I am a sinner, a redeemed sinner, and as such I would lie
here to the last, at the foot of the cross, looking unto Jesus, and go as
such into the presence of God.’ Elizabeth’s Journal shews this to have
been her feeling. She then, however, declared her sense of the
possession of a true peace, founded on the atonement of her Saviour. She
expressed a very earnest desire for the spiritual welfare of all about
her, especially of the young with whom she met in the Bible Class. She
was dying. She asked to receive the Sacrament. I engaged to come in the
afternoon, and administer it. In all this there was nothing of hurry, or
fearfulness, or mistrust, but the image of a soul fearing no evil, and
walking though the Valley of the Shadow of Death, with the comfort of her
Saviour’s rod and staff. It left no doubt in my mind as to her state of
blessedness. But I will now return to her sister’s narrative. ‘On Mr.
C.’s arrival, he conversed and prayed with her; she then requested to
receive the Sacrament: he took his leave, promising soon to return. She
now took an affectionate leave of her brothers and other relatives,
speaking to each with great kindness, respecting the salvation of their
never dying souls. After settling some little affairs (this was the
distribution of her little property, and the gift of some money to the
societies to which she had subscribed) she looked at me, and said, I
think that is all. ‘How long will Mr. C. be, I wish him to come now.’ I
said, ‘Dear, I will send for and hasten him.’ She said, ‘Do so, I wish
once more to commemorate the dying love of the Saviour on earth, then I
will lay me down and die in Jesus.’’
Jesus can make a dying bed,
Feel soft as downy pillows are.
The scene of this celebration of the Lord’s Supper I shall not readily
forget. Herself, her sisters, the valued friends of her life, were
before me. Her own countenance was so beautifully calm and heavenly.
She sat up, but she was sinking very fast, and I feared that she might
die during the service; but all the while she made the greatest effort to
give all her strength to this holy ordinance. She followed me in the
responses, and at the conclusion I read over to her the blessing of the
‘Visitation of the Sick,’ ‘Unto God’s gracious mercy and protection we
commit thee. The Lord bless thee, and keep thee; the Lord make his face
to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up the
light of his countenance on thee, and give thee peace both now and
evermore.’ I do not expect again to see a face upon which the radiant
light of God’s countenance may shine more brightly and happily than upon
this dying saint. The scene was most touching in every way. After I had
done, a dear friend, one whom I have mentioned before, commended her soul
to God, in a solemn strain of spiritual blessing. After a pause, at her
own request, I read her a hymn. I then took my leave, desiring to give
up her dying moments to her own disposal, and feeling that there were
others in the house to whom she might wish to speak some last words of
admonition or of comfort.
‘After partaking of the Sacrament,’ her sister continues, ‘she appeared
sweetly composed, while Mr. C. commended her parting soul to God. She
then looked round, as if looking for some one, and as I approached the
bed, she fixed her dying eyes upon me, and said, “Happy translation.” I
said, “Dear, do you feel very happy now?” She answered, “O yes, happy.”
{62} Soon after this, her medical man, Mr. B., came in, and she
conversed with him on her approaching end. She said she was sure he had
done all he could in a medical point of view. She thanked him for his
attention during her illness, and then added, “Now, sir, pray with me.”
After prayer, she repeated the following lines:—
‘What is there here to court my stay,
Or hold me back from home;
While angels beckon me away,
And Jesus bids me come.’
Some time after, she said, ‘now I must pray for patience to wait the
Lord’s time. Come Lord Jesus!’ Soon after she said, ‘I would not come
back again, now I have got a glimpse of the heavenly kingdom.’ She made
use of similar expressions, till she gradually sunk in death, and her
Spirit took its flight to the paradise of God.
The funeral of Elizabeth Cullingham took place in the usual course. It
was attended, as well by her own family, as by many of her christian
friends. There was nothing in it to call for attention. It was
consistent with her own simple unostentatious life. A large party of the
attendants met at a neighbouring cottage, where the voice of thanksgiving
was raised for the mercies which had been granted to our departed friend,
and prayer was offered up for all who had been connected with her. On
the ensuing Sunday Evening, a funeral Sermon was preached on her account.
The text was taken from Rev. iii. 12. “Him that overcometh will I make a
pillar in the temple of my God, and he shall go no more out: and I will
write upon him the name of my God, which is new Jerusalem, which cometh
down out of heaven from my God: and I will write upon him my new name.”
The subjects dwelt upon in the Sermon were—The course of a christian’s
life; and the eternal reward which follows his death. The victory over
the world, the flesh, and the devil was through divine grace, obtained by
our departed friend, and now she has her reward. She is become a pillar
in the temple of her God, to shew forth his praises through eternity
amidst the redeemed in heaven; where “they hunger no more, neither thirst
any more: neither shall the sun light on them nor any heat. For the lamb
which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them
unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from
their eyes.”
Her tomb stone in the church yard, bears a memorial to the truth of which
all who attended upon her in her last hours can bear witness. They are
lines somewhat transposed from a beautiful little poem of Mr. Dale’s.
‘Triumphant in thy closing eye,
The hope of glory shone;
Joy breath’d in thy expiring sigh,
To think the fight was won.
‘And thus shall faith’s consoling power,
The tears of love restrain,
O! who that saw thy parting hour,
Could wish thee back again?’