Recollections of departed excellence are always pleasant, often deeply
interesting, and sometimes productive of the happiest effects. The
delight we feel in tracing the successive stages of that pilgrimage
by which the saints of the Most High have "passed into the skies," is
neither a faint nor fruitless emotion, but a healthful exercise of the
moral sympathies. It purifies, while it elicits; the affections of the
heart. As we trace the formation of their character, we are insensibly
forming our own; and the observation by which we mark the development of
their Christian virtues, is among the most efficient means by which we
are provoked to their imitation.
Hence the inspired volume is not more a book of doctrines than a
record of the piety of ancient believers. That Holy Spirit, under
whose inspiration it was written, knew how to touch the springs of
human conduct, and therefore incites us to the highest attainments of
character by the influence of example. The names of the righteous are
enrolled in its imperishable leaves, and their memory, after the lapse
of ages, is still fragrant as the breath of the morning.
After the example of the sacred writers, every age of the church has
preserved memorials of the wisdom and holiness of its own times. In
some instances a service has thus been performed of inestimable value.
Patterns of faith, of patience, of zeal, have been rescued from oblivion
to be a stimulus to Christians in all succeeding periods of time. And in
other instances benefits, though not equally extensive, yet substantial,
have resulted from recording, in a brief memoir, the characters and
actions of those who, not called to occupy prominent stations, have shed
a sweet influence of piety upon the more retired walks of ordinary life.
The following pages are intended to preserve some short account of a
Christian lady, who from youth to old age "walked in the truth;" and
having become at length alike venerable in years and in piety, departed
this present life with the glorious hope of a better.
Mrs. Peggy Waugh was born at Wallingford, A. D. 1747. At an early
period of life her mind was brought under a divine influence; not,
however, by the ordinary means of grace, nor by any solemn providence,
but in a manner illustrating the force of scripture, and the sovereignty
of that gracious Spirit by whom it was originally inspired, and is still
savingly applied. Being present at a party where the evening was spent
in festivity and worldly mirth, she was invited to join in the dance.
This she had often done, for she was of a lively disposition, and her
parents were gratified by her mixing in the gaieties of life; but in the
present instance she felt herself unable to maintain the hilarity of her
spirits. The cause of her dejection none imagined, and she was perhaps
ashamed to acknowledge. While all was merriment around her, she became
suddenly pensive. A passage of the word of God, pointedly in contrast
with the spirit of the scene, had come with irresistible power to her
recollection. It fastened upon her conscience:--it reached her heart.
The music and dancing lost their charms; she sat in solitariness, though
surrounded with company; the world's fascinations appeared in a light in
which she had never before seen them, and the salutary impressions of
that evening remained unerased from her mind through all her subsequent
life.
While she was yet young, her parents removed to Reading. Shortly after
they had fixed their residence in that town, she was taken by a friend
to the Baptist Meeting, where she heard the Rev. Mr. Davis. She was
much interested in his discourse, and sought for opportunities to
attend frequently on his ministry. Under the able instructions of that
excellent man, her religious views became clearer and more definite, her
principles more firm and decided, and it was evident that the spiritual
change which had already commenced in her soul, was rapidly advancing to
its completion.
It was now that her trials began. The determinate and consistent form
which her renewed character had assumed, was far from exciting any
complacent feelings in the minds of her parents; and it became the more
obnoxious to them from the preference she manifested for the preaching
of Mr. Davis. They had brought up their family to the established
church, and it distressed them exceedingly to see their daughter
becoming a dissenter. But she had counted the cost, and was prepared to
make any sacrifice, and to endure any hardship, rather than forego the
privileges she now enjoyed in the house of God. Hardships she had indeed
to endure: such was the severity with which she was treated, that it was
no uncommon thing, when she returned from the sanctuary, to find her
father's door locked against her; and often has she walked in the fields
without food during the intervals of public worship, rather than incur
the displeasure that awaited her at home. This was a season of trial,
and she came forth from it like refined gold. Her filial attentions were
not less respectful or affectionate than formerly; on the contrary,
she watched both her temper and her conduct with more than wonted
carefulness, and endeavoured to show them that she could bear with
meekness the wrongs she suffered in so good a cause. Nor did she wholly
withdraw herself from the established church. Reading was at that time
favoured with the ministry of the Rev. Mr. Talbot, the Hon. and Rev.
Mr. Cadogan, and the Rev. Mr. Eyre, his curate at St. Giles's. The
preaching of these faithful servants of the Lord was distinguished
by its truly evangelical character, and she found much benefit in
occasionally hearing them. At their Thursday evening lecture she was
a constant attendant, both at this period and after she had joined the
Baptist church. Her new principles had not contracted, but on the
contrary enlarged, her mind. Her views with regard to the ordinance of
baptism, and on some other subjects connected with those parts of divine
truth on which a difference of sentiment prevails, were conscientiously
embraced; but they were held in the spirit of Christian charity. As much
as she could, without a sacrifice of conscience, she endeavoured to
conciliate the prejudices of her parents; and at length her efforts
were blessed beyond her most sanguine hope.
It will a little anticipate the order of the narrative, but it may
properly be added here, that she had the satisfaction, at a subsequent
period, to know that her pious conversation and deportment had, under
God, been the principal means of producing a saving change in her
father, in her mother, and in two of her brothers. Her parents, at an
advanced age, departed in the faith, leaving no doubt on the minds of
surviving friends that they had fallen asleep in Jesus.
It was the happiness of Mrs. Waugh to be united in marriage with a
person of decided piety, whose sentiments on religious subjects were
similar to her own. Shortly after their marriage, they were both
baptized, and thus commenced together that public and good profession
which they ever afterwards maintained by the integrity, and adorned with
the graces, of the Christian life. On the morning of her baptism, a
passage from the prophecies of Isaiah, evidently suggested by the
difficulties which had environed her early religious course, forcibly
impressed her mind, and afforded her much encouragement: "I will go
before thee, and make the crooked places straight; I will break in
pieces the gates of brass, and cut in sunder the bars of iron." "These
words," she writes, "came sweetly to me, and my soul was on the wing for
heaven and heavenly things."
The duties of domestic life began now to demand her attention. In
the relations of a wife, a mother, and a mistress, the excellence of
those principles on which her character was formed, was habitually
exemplified. For her children, she was supremely anxious to bring them
in early life under the influence of divine truth, and to lead them into
the love of God. It is in their recollection still, with what maternal
affection she would take them into her chamber, and converse with them
on those subjects, and then present them, in the exercise of faith and
devotion, to the care of that tender Shepherd who "gathers the lambs in
his arms, and carries them in his bosom." Indeed her deep interest in
all young persons obliged her to press upon such as came within her
reach a care for their everlasting happiness; with several, the result
was most satisfactory, and they retain an affectionate remembrance of
her solicitude on their behalf. With her servants also she would seize
opportunities to speak of the value of their souls, and the improvement
of their religious advantages; and sometimes she used to pray in secret
with them. The afflictions which are inseparable from the lot of
humanity, and those which parents only know, she endured with a meek and
confiding resignation. Her cup had its bitter infusions, and some of her
trials were more than commonly severe; but under every mysterious and
painful dispensation, she stayed herself upon her God, and in patience
possessed her soul.
By those who enjoyed her friendship, her pious conversation and
correspondence were highly valued. She was no stranger in the habitation
of the widow and the fatherless, or beside the dying bed. Her sympathy
in such scenes was a mitigation of sorrow, and her offices of Christian
love endeared her in the hour of distress. She gratified the benevolence
of her heart by relieving the distresses of many; and some of her poor
neighbours were pensioners on her bounty as long as they lived. Her
attendance on public ordinances, it need scarcely be said, was regular
and devout; and by her consistent and blameless life, combined with her
affectionate and peaceful walk among her fellow-members, she was a
comfort to her pastor, and an honour to the church. Thus for many years
she moved in her orbit, as the celestial luminaries move in theirs; with
a regular, uniform, and constant progression; deriving all their
radiance from the sun, and reflecting his beams without noise or
ostentation.
But a severe trial awaited her. The conjugal relation was at length
broken. By the death of Mr. Waugh she was deprived of the staff of her
age, and left to travel alone through the last stages of her pilgrimage.
She had however the unspeakable satisfaction of reflecting that he had
walked with her in the ways of righteousness, and that although he had
outstripped her in the course, and arrived first at the sepulchre, she
should follow him into the world of reunion and eternal love. His
decease was also eminently happy. He was favoured during his illness
with much spirituality and elevation of mind, and departed in the "full
assurance of hope." On being asked by one of his daughters, whether, if
it were the will of God, he would like to return again into the world?
"What," he exclaimed, "when Christ bids me 'come up hither!'" It was the
privilege of his faithful wife (for such she deemed it) to be with him
through all his illness, and to witness the final scene. She would not
delegate to other hands the discharge of any duty which she could
perform herself; but the conflict being over, she retired from the
chamber of death, and was found some time after, by her children, who
had missed her, in her closet, and on her knees. The throne of grace was
her refuge. To that hiding-place she was accustomed to flee, in every
"cloudy and dark day;" and sweetly was the promise fulfilled in her
experience, "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed
on thee." She felt deeply the stroke which had made her a widow; but,
possessing an uncommon degree of self-command, it was a comfort to her
children to observe her great calmness of spirit, and to hear the
expressions of her confidence in God. Her natural fortitude was
sustained by divine grace, and her whole carriage under this
bereavement afforded an edifying instance of the manner in which a
Christian both bends before the storm, and rises above it.
About two years after this event, she left the neighbourhood of Reading,
to reside in the family of one of her daughters at Tottenham. By this
circumstance she was necessarily brought into new scenes both of
domestic and social life; and they served still further to elicit the
graces of her matured and now venerable character. For to the visitors,
of all ranks, she recommended the religion of the Bible; but with such
propriety, that she never gave offence; and most tenderly and intimately
did she participate in the diversified feelings of her grandchildren,
evincing her affection for them, by her earnest and ardently expressed
longing that Christ might be formed in their hearts, the hope of glory.
It was about this time, that the writer of this brief tribute to her
memory had the happiness to form her acquaintance; and he well remembers
the impression of respectful admiration which that first interview
produced on his mind. She was now "well stricken in years." Time had
mellowed the naturally sweet expression of her countenance, without much
impairing its vivacity. Her silvery locks shaded a brow imprinted with
the wrinkles of age, but intelligent and serene. Her eyes were yet
bright, and glanced upon her friends with benevolent complacency. Her
form was unbending and about the middle stature; her manners dignified,
yet free; her conversation cheerful, affectionate, and eminently
spiritual; her memory richly replenished with the word of God, and with
hymns, which she recited with much emphasis and appropriate application;
and her whole appearance and deportment that of a venerable Christian
lady.
Some time before this period she had become very deaf; but though she
felt it to be a great trial, it made scarcely any perceptible abatement
of her cheerfulness; nor did she allow it to prevent her attendance upon
the house of God. In proportion as she was shut out from the pleasures
of conversation, she seemed to find an increasing delight in secret
devotion. "Let us call those our golden hours," she says in a letter
to a friend, "that are spent with God. May we be found much in that
excellent duty of self-examination." And at a subsequent date she writes
in her diary, "My hearing is in some measure restored; of which I can
give no account from natural causes or medicinal art. O Lord, my healer,
thou canst do every thing. O the riches of immortal grace! If I outlive
my senses, I cannot outlive my graces. O how beautiful, how honourable,
how durable! I earnestly plead with God for his church and ministers, in
faith and hope, for what I am not likely to live to see. Dear Lord, let
me depart and join the holy society above. Amen!"
It is often observed, that as Christians draw near to heaven, their
desire increases to enter upon its holy joys. They present a delightful
contrast, in this respect, to those unhappy persons whose old age is
chilled with the infirmities of decaying nature, and never warmed
into the glow of celestial aspirations by the presages of a blessed
immortality. The natural desire of life is felt by both, and the
uneradicated remains of our ancient and inveterate depravity will
sometimes, even in aged Christians, repress the risings of the soul
towards her native skies. But the prevailing tendency of the desires
will be upwards. "To live is indeed Christ; but to die is gain." Hence
their conversation will take its complexion and character, rather from
the things which are eternal, than from the transactions or interests of
this present world. Such was eminently the case with the subject of this
memoir. She seemed to live much, in the secret exercises of her mind,
upon the invisible glories of that region of blessedness towards which
she was fast approaching. Never was her countenance lighted up with a
more cheerful beam of piety, than when, after she had been occupied
awhile in silent musings, she would break forth in the joyful
exclamation of the patriarch Job, "I know that my Redeemer liveth, and
that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: and though, after
my skin, worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God; whom
I shall see for myself, and my eyes behold, and not another; though my
reins be consumed within me." This was indeed a very favourite passage
with her, and was selected by herself for her funeral text. But "the
word of Christ dwelt in her richly;" and it was sometimes equally
astonishing and delightful to hear with what copiousness, accuracy, and
animated expression, at more than 80 years of age, she would pour forth,
like a sparkling stream, a long series of beautiful quotations, her
feelings at the same time kindling into celestial rapture, and the
whole perhaps finished with that ecstatic verse of Dr. Watts.
"Haste, my beloved, fetch my soul
Up to thy bless'd abode;
Fly, for my spirit longs to see
My Saviour and my God."
She had outlived nearly all her contemporaries. Most of her friends had
preceded her to their rest, and sometimes she would chide herself for
still lingering in her upward flight, among the chilling clouds of these
lower regions, when she thought her wings should have borne her more
rapidly onward to join the company of the blessed. Thus she expresses
herself in one of her memorandums: "O Lord, when I look around me, and
feel I am bereaved of human joys, and behold the ravages which thou hast
made among my dear, beloved friends and kindred in the flesh, I am
astonished at the strength of that depravity, which leads me still to
cling to this dying world. Why, oh, why do I not rest my weary soul on
the unchangeable realities of heaven? There shall I meet those very dear
ones who sleep in Jesus. Animating hope! Oh, then, let me march boldly
on, nor faint in the day of rebuke; but may I be enabled to yield up all
my earthly comforts when Jesus calls and demands, that I may find my all
in him."
It was her privilege often to climb to the summit of Pisgah; and when
she descended again into the plain, how delightfully would she talk,
and as in the very dialect of the country, of that land of fair and
beauteous prospect which lies beyond the Jordan. There were seasons when
no other subject seemed welcome to her thoughts. She would sit at such
times watching the countenances of her friends, and at a break in the
conversation, which she could not hear, drop a short sentence full of
the love and joy of heaven. She seemed to have an inward and divine
light which shone through her soul, and made it a region of pure and
celestial thoughts; no doubts were permitted to disturb the composure
of her mind, no temptation to trouble and overcast the serenity of her
cloudless sky. Her days moved on in tranquil succession, each renewing
and passing forward to the next, the sunshine of its predecessor. Only,
indeed, as her orb descended to the horizon, the light seemed more to
concentrate and to soften; just as the evening sun gathers back into
himself the radiance with which he had illuminated the world, and sets
amidst the chastened splendours of his own accumulated glory.
Her tabernacle, which had been often shaken, was at length taken down.
No fierce disease was commissioned to inflict the final stroke. Till the
last week she was permitted to continue in the society of her children.
Two of them reside at Camberwell; and they reflect, with grateful
pleasure, that some of her last days were spent with them. She left them
on the Monday, after having passed the whole of the preceding month in
their company. It was not then apprehended that her end was so near, but
her conversation was sweetly tinctured by a vein of ardent and elevated
devotion. Her mind was eminently spiritual; she seemed to be living in
an element of prayer and love. It was the happiness of the writer to
spend a short time with her during the last week; and in her pocket-book
she has noted the comfort she derived from the devotional exercises in
which they then engaged. The Sabbath day was a season of great delight.
She did not know that on the following her translation was to take
place; but had she foreseen it, scarcely could she have passed the day
in communications more fitted to her near approximation to eternal joy.
The next day she returned to Tottenham, not so well as she had been, yet
there seemed no cause for immediate alarm; but in her last words, as she
was taking leave of her daughters, there was something almost prophetic
of the event which was soon to take place. Clasping the hand of one of
them, as she was about to step into the carriage, she turned to her, and
said, "I shall soon mount on eagles' wings; I shall run and not be
weary, I shall walk and not faint." On Wednesday, her indisposition
considerably increased, and her strength began rapidly to decline. It
soon became impossible to hold any conversation with her beyond a few
short and detached sentences at intervals. In reply to inquiries, she
still expressed her faith in the Lamb of God, and spoke of his
preciousness to her soul. But the power of articulation failed, and
this circumstance, joined with her deafness, precluded the further
interchange of sentiment with the departing saint. She continued to
lodge on the banks of the Jordan a day or two longer, till about noon
on Lord's day, June 30, 1833; when she passed through the river with
a gentle and quiet motion, and was lost to the sight of surrounding
attendants, amidst the distant groves of Eden, on the opposite shore.
"No pain she suffered, nor expired with noise;
Her soul was whispered out with God's still voice:
So softly death succeeded life in her,
She did but dream of heaven, and she was there."
_Camberwell._ E. STEANE