_Or, Religion Exemplified in the Life and Death of a Pious Indian
Woman._
The subject of the following narrative lived and died in a town in
the eastern part of Connecticut. We are well acquainted with the
writer, and we can assure our readers that the account here given
is true.--_Editor of the Religious Intelligencer._
It was a comfortless morning in the month of March, 1814, when I first
formed an acquaintance with the subject of the following sketch.
She called to solicit a few _crusts_, meekly saying she "deserved
nothing but the _crumbs_--they were enough for her poor old body, just
ready to crumble into dust." I had heard of _Sarah_, a pious Indian
woman, and I was therefore prepared to receive her with kindness. And
remembering the words of my Lord, who said, "Inasmuch as ye have done
it unto one of the _least_ of these my brethren, ye have done it unto
me," I was ready to impart a portion of my _little_ unto her (for
little, alas! was my store).
"And how," I asked her, "have you got along, this long, cold winter,
Sarah?" "O misse," she replied, "God better to Sarah than she fear.
When winter come on, Sarah was in great doubt. No husband, no child
here but one; she wicked, gone a great deal. What if great snow come?
What if fire go out? Nabor great way off. What if sick all 'lone? What
if I die? Nobody know it.
"While I think so, in my heart, then I cry: while I cryin', somethin'
speak in my mind, and say, 'Trust God, Sarah; He love His people, He
never leave them, He never forsake them; He never forsake Sarah, He
friend indeed. Go tell Jesus, Sarah; He love hear prayer; He often hear
Sarah pray.' So I wipe my eyes; don't cry any more; go out in bushes,
where nobody see, fall down on my old knees and pray. God give me great
many words; pray a great while. God make all my mind peace.
"When I get up, go in house, can't stop prayin' in my mind. All my
heart burn with love to God; willin' live cold, go hungry, be sick,
die all 'lone, if God be there. He know best; Sarah don't know. So I
feel happy; great many day go singin' hymn--
'Now I can trust the Lord for ever,
He can clothe, and He can feed,
He my rock, and He my Saviour,
Jesus is a friend indeed.'"
"Well, Sarah, have you been comfortably supplied?" "O yes," she
replied, "I never out corn meal once all winter." "But how do you cook
it, Sarah, so as to make it comfortable food?" "O, I make porridge,
misse. Sometimes I get out, like to-day, and I go get some crusts bread
and some salt put in it, then it is so nourishing to this poor old
body; but when can't get none, then make it good I can, and kneel down,
pray God to bless it to me; and I feel if God feed me, and be so happy
here"--(laying her hand on her heart).
Oh, what a lesson, thought I, for my repining heart! "But do you have
no meat or other necessaries, Sarah?" "Not often, misse; sometimes I
get so hungry for it, I begin feel wicked; then think how Jesus hungry
in the desert. But when Satan tempt Him to sin, to get food, He would
not. So I say, Sarah won't sin to get victuals. I no steal, no eat
stole food, though be hungry ever so long.
"Then God gives me small look of His self, His _Son_, and His glory;
and I think in my heart, they all be mine soon; then I no suffer
hunger any more--my Father have there many mansions." "Sarah," said
I, "you seem to have some knowledge of the Scriptures; can you read?"
"I can spell out a little; I can't read like you white folks; O, if I
could!" Here she burst into tears.
But after regaining her composure, she added, "This, misse, what I want
above all things, more than victuals or drink. Oh, how often I beg God
teach me to read, and He do teach me some. When I take Bible, kneel
down and pray, he show me great many words, and they be so sweet, I
want to know a great deal more. Oh, when I get home to heaven, then I
know all; no want to read any more."
In this strain of simple piety, she told me her first interesting
story. And when she departed, I felt a stronger evidence of her being
a true child of God, than I have acquired of some professors by a long
acquaintance. In one of the many visits she afterward made me, she gave
me, in substance, the following account of her conversion:--She lived,
according to her own account, until she became a wife and mother,
without hope and without God in the world, having been brought up in
extreme ignorance.
Her husband treating her with great severity, she became dejected and
sorrowful, and to use her own simple language, "I go sorrow, sorrow,
all day long. When the night come, husband come home angry, beat me so;
then I think, Oh, if Sarah had friend! Sarah no friend. I no want tell
nabor I got trouble, that make only worse. So I be quiet, tell nobody,
only cry all night and day for one good friend.
"One Sunday, good nabor come, and say, 'Come, Sarah, go Meetin'.' So I
call my children, tell 'em stay in house while I go to Meetin'. When
got there, minister tell all about Jesus; how He was born in stable,
go suffer all His life, die on great cross, bury, rise, and go up into
heaven, to be always sinners' friend. He say, too, if you got trouble,
go to the Lord Jesus. He best friend in sorrow, He cure all your
sorrow, He bring you out of trouble, He support you, make you willin'
suffer.
"So when I go home, think great deal what minister say; think this the
friend I want--this the friend I cry for so long. Poor ignorant Sarah
never heard so much about Jesus before. Then I try hard to tell Jesus
how I want such friend. But oh, my heart so hard, can't feel, can't
pray, can't love Jesus, though he so good. This make me sorrow more and
more.
"When Sunday come, want to go to Meetin' 'gain. Husband say, 'You
shan't go; I beat you if you go.' So I wait till he go off huntin',
then shut up children safe, and run to Meetin'; sit down in door, hear
minister tell how bad my heart is--no love to God, no love to Jesus, no
love to pray. So then I see why can't have Jesus for friend, 'cause got
so bad heart: then go prayin' all way home, Jesus make my heart better.
"When got home, find children safe, feel glad husband no come: only
feel sorry 'cause my wicked heart don't know how make it better. When
I go sleep, then dream I can read good book: dream I read there, Sarah
must be born 'gain. In mornin' keep thinkin' what that word mean. When
husband go work, run over my good nabor, ask her if Bible say so.
"Then she read me, where that great man go see Jesus by night, 'cause
'fraid go in day-time. I think he just like Sarah. She must go in
secret, to hear 'bout Jesus, else husband be angry, and beat her. Then
feel 'couraged in mind, determined to have Jesus for friend. So asked
nabor how get good heart. She tell me, 'Give your heart to Jesus,
He will give Holy Spirit, make it better. Sarah don't know what she
mean--never hear 'bout Holy Spirit.
"She say must go Meetin' next Sunday, she will tell minister 'bout
me--he tell me what to do. So Sarah go hear how must be born 'gain;
minister say, 'You must go fall down 'fore God; tell Him you grieved
'cause you sin--tell him you want better heart--tell him for Christ
Jesus' sake give Holy Spirit, make your heart new.' Then Sarah go home
light, 'cause she know the way.
"When get home, husband beat me 'cause I go Meetin'--don't stay home
work. I say, 'Sarah can't work any more on Sunday, 'cause sin 'gainst
God. I rather work night, when moon shine.' So he drive me hoe corn
that night, he so angry. I want to pray great deal, so go out hoe corn,
pray all the time. When come in house, husband sleep. Then I kneel down
and tell Jesus take my bad heart--can't bear bad heart; pray give me
Holy Spirit, make my heart soft, make it all new.
"So great many days Sarah go beg for a new heart. Go Meetin' all
Sundays; if husband beat me, never mind it; go hear good nabor read
Bible every day. So, after great while, God make all my mind peace. I
love Jesus; I love pray to Him; love tell Him all my sorrows. He take
away my sorrow, make all my soul joy; only sorrow 'cause can't read
Bible--learn how to be like Jesus; want to be like His dear people
Bible tell of.
"So I make great many brooms; go get Bible for 'em. When come home,
husband call me fool for it; say he burn it up. Then I go hide it; when
he gone, get it, kiss it many times, 'cause it Jesus' good Word. Then I
go ask nabor if she learn me read; she say, 'Yes.' Then I go many days
learn letters, pray God all the while help me learn read His Holy Word.
"So, misse, I learn read hymn; learn to spell out many good words in
Bible. So every day take Bible, tell my children that be God's words,
tell 'em how Jesus die on cross for sinner: then make 'em all kneel
down, I pray God give 'em new heart; pray for husband too, he so
wicked. Oh, how I sorry for him; fear his soul go in burnin' flame."
"Sarah," said I, "how long did your husband live?" "Oh, he live great
many year." "Did he repent and become a good man?" "No, misse, I 'fraid
not; he sin more and more. When he got sick, I in great trouble for
him; talk every day to him, but he no hear Sarah. I say, 'How can you
bear go in burnin' fire, where worm never die, where fire never go
out?' At last he get angry, bid me hold my tongue. So I don't say any
more, only mourn over him every day 'fore God.
"When he die, my heart say, 'Father, thy will be done--Jesus do all
things well. Sarah can't help him now, he be in God's hands; all is
well.' So then give my heart all away to Jesus; tell Him I be all His;
serve Him all my life; beg Holy Spirit come fill all my heart, make
it all clean and white like Jesus. Pray God help me learn more of His
sweet words.
"And now, Sarah live poor Indian widow great many long years; always
find Jesus friend, husband, brother, all. He make me willin' suffer;
willin' live great while in this bad world, if He see best. 'Bove all,
He give me great good hope of glory when I die. So now I wait patient
till my change comes."
While she was giving this narration, her countenance bore strong
testimony to the diversified emotions of her soul. I might greatly
swell the list of particulars; but I design only to give the outlines
of an example which would have done honor to the highest sphere in
life; and which, in my opinion, is not the less excellent, or the
less worthy of imitation, because shrouded in the veil of poverty and
sorrow. It was evident she meditated much on what little she knew of
divine things; and what she knew of the Bible was to her like honey and
the honeycomb.
She was in the habit of bringing bags of sand into the village, and
selling it to buy food. Sometimes she brought grapes and other kinds
of fruit. But as she walked by the way, she took little notice of
anything that passed (except children, whom she seldom passed without
an affectionate word of exhortation to be good, say their prayers,
learn to read the Bible, etc., accompanied with a bunch of grapes or an
apple--thus engaging the affection of many a little heart), but seemed
absorbed in meditation; and you might often have observed her hands
uplifted in the attitude of prayer.
One day, after having observed her as she came, I asked her how she
could bring so heavy loads, old as she was, and feeble. "Oh," said she,
"when I get great load, then I go pray God give me strength to carry
it. So I go on, thinkin' all the way how good God is give His only Son
die for poor sinner; think how good Jesus be, suffer so much for such
poor creature; how good Holy Spirit was, come into my bad heart, make
it all new: so these sweet thoughts make my mind so full joy, I never
think how heavy sand be on my old back."
"Here," said I to my heart, "learn how to make the heavy load of iron
cares easy." One day she passed with a bag of sand. On her return she
called on me. I inquired how much Mrs. ---- gave her for the sand.
She was unwilling to tell, and I feared she was unwilling lest I
should withhold my accustomed mite, on account of what she had already
received; I therefore insisted she should let me see.
She at length consented, and I drew from the bag a bone, not containing
meat enough for half a meal. "Is this all? Did that rich woman turn
you off so? How cruel, how hard-hearted!" I exclaimed. "Misse," she
replied, "this made me 'fraid let you see it; I 'fraid you would be
angry: I hope she have bigger heart next time, only she forget now that
Jesus promise to pay her all she give Sarah. Don't be angry, I pray God
to give her a great deal bigger heart."
The conviction, that she possessed, in an eminent degree, the Spirit
of Him who said, "Bless them that curse you," and prayed for His
murderers, rushed upon my mind with energy, and I could compare myself
in some measure to those who said, "Shall we command fire to come
down from heaven," etc. I think I never felt deeper self-abhorrence
and abasement; I left her for a moment, and from the few comforts I
possessed, gave her a considerable portion.
She received them with the most visible marks of gratitude--arose to
depart, went to the door, and then turned, looking me in the face with
evident concern. "Sarah," said I, "what would you have?" (supposing she
wanted something I had not thought of, and she feared to ask). "Oh, my
good misse!" said she, "nothing; only 'fraid your big heart feel some
proud 'cause you give more for nothing than Misse ---- for sand."
This faithfulness, added to her piety and gratitude, completed the
swell of feeling already rising in my soul; and bursting into tears, I
said, "O Sarah! when you pray that Mrs. ---- may have a bigger heart,
don't forget to pray that I may have an humbler one." "I will, misse, I
will," she exclaimed with joy, and hastened on her way.
Another excellence in her character, was, that she loved the habitation
of God's house, and often appeared there, when, from bad weather or
other causes, many a seat of affluence was empty. She was always early,
ever clean and whole in her apparel, though sometimes almost as much
diversified with patches as the shepherd's coat.
She was very old and quite feeble, yet she generally stood during
public service, with eyes riveted on the preacher. I have sometimes
overtaken her on the steps, after service, and tapping her on her
shoulder, would say, "Have you had a good day, Sarah?" "All good;
sweeter than honey," she would reply.
In the spring of 1818, it was observed by her friends that she did
not appear at Meeting as usual, and one of her particular female
benefactors asked her the reason; when she, with streaming eyes, told
her that her clothes had become so old and ragged that she could not
come with comfort or decency; but said she had been praying God to
provide for her in this respect, a great while, and telling Jesus how
much she wanted to go to His house of prayer, and expressed a strong
desire to be resigned and submissive to His will.
This was soon communicated to a few friends, who promptly obeyed
the call of Providence, and soon furnished this suffering member of
Christ with a very decent suit of clothes. This present was almost
overpowering to her grateful heart. She received them as from the hand
of her Heavenly Father and kind Redeemer, in answer to her special
prayer.
But this did not in the least diminish her gratitude to her
benefactors; but she said she would go on, tell Jesus how good His dear
people were to this poor old creature, and pray her good Father to give
them great reward. Two of the garments given her, she received with
every mark of joy. On being asked why she set so high a value on these,
she replied, "Oh, these just what I pray for so long, so as to lay out
my poor old body, clean and decent, like God's dear white people, when
I die."
These she requested a friend to keep for her, fearing to carry them
home, lest they should be taken from her. She was, however, persuaded
to wear one of them to Meeting, upon condition that if she injured
that, another should be provided; the other was preserved by her
friend, and made use of at her death.
Thus was this humble band of female friends honored, by anointing, as
it were, the body, beforehand, to the burial. And I doubt not that her
prayer was heard, and will be answered in their abundant reward. The
last visit I had from her was in the summer of 1818. She had attended a
funeral, and on returning, she called at my cottage. She complained of
great weariness, and pain in her limbs, and showed me her feet, which
were much swollen.
I inquired the cause. "Oh," said she, with a serene smile, "death comes
creeping on; I think in graveyard to-day, Sarah must lie here soon."
"Well, are you willing to die? do you feel ready?" "Oh, I hope, misse,
if my bad heart tell true, I willin' and ready to do just as Jesus bid
me. If He say, 'You must die,' I glad to go be with Him; if He say,
'Live, and suffer great deal more,' then I willin' do that; I think
Jesus know best.
"Sometime I get such look of heaven, I long to go see Jesus; see happy
angel; see holy saint; throw away my bad heart; lay down my old body;
and go where I no sin. Then I tell Jesus; He say, 'Sarah, I prepare a
place for you, then I come to take you to myself.' Then I be quite like
child, don't want to go till He call me."
Much more she said upon this interesting subject, which indicated a
soul ripe for heavenly glories. When we parted, I thought it very
doubtful whether we should ever meet again below. In the course of
three weeks I heard Sarah was dead.