Part 17 (1/2)
I wonder what its scenes unfold,-- For not a thousandth part is told, Of those bright lands of love,
Not long-ere wonder shall expire, In sweet fruition lost; My spirit, borne on wings of fire, Shall mount, and revel, and admire, With all the heavenly host.
”1855.--A letter reached us from my beloved Richard, bringing tidings of health, both of body and soul, and of his intended removal to Auckland; but holding out little prospect of his return to England, by the words _'if ever.'_ Thus is long cherished hope cut off, when I thought it about to be realized.”
[About the beginning of this year she had a severe attack of bronchitis, and all hope of her recovery seemed cut off. Although able to say little, she maintained a calm and settled confidence in G.o.d, and was evidently longing after home. The morning after the crisis was past, the doctor said to her, 'Well, Mrs. Lyth, I have some hope of you.' She replied, 'So have I, but it is the other way.']
”After a sudden and severe attack of affliction, I would most gratefully acknowledge the merciful care of my heavenly Father, who has not left me, but comforted me by His word and Spirit. My friends also have not forgotten me; I have every comfort during this inclement season. The earth is covered with snow, the cold piercing, and the day gloomy; but mercy folds me in on every side, and my spirit rests on Jesus, my atoning Saviour. While I write, my heart warms and kindles at His love.--I am left alone this eighteenth of February, which, forty-five years ago, was so important. Well, it is written, 'Thy Maker is thy husband, the Lord of hosts is His name.' and to Him will I plight my vows. Alone, on my knees, I again surrender to Thee my poor heart, and again take the pledge of Thy love. From this time forth may I swerve from Thee no more, but walk my few remaining days with Thee; having the testimony that Enoch had, that I please G.o.d. And now I am Thine by solemn ties, in the solemn silence of Thy presence, all praise be unto Thee, who dost thus condescend to Thy dust.--Have just returned from a drive. The air is very sweet, and nature puts forth her loveliness. My soul was led out to Him who has prepared greater things than these for those that love Him. My spirit is revived. 'Bless the Lord, O my soul.'--Riding out yesterday, I called to see my dear friend Isaac, who, like myself, is waiting until her change come;--a touching little interview. She told me while she was praying for me in my affliction, it was impressed upon her mind, 'My power is unlimited.' O may it be exerted in my full preparation for eternal glory, to meet my dear friend there. I sometimes get transient glimpses of it. I feel myself a helpless worm, but the name of Jesus is sweet. There is none I desire in comparison of Him. Though I cannot get out I am able to read, and the word of truth is my constant companion.--A beautiful day: the sun s.h.i.+nes in splendour, but sin spoils all the beauty. While my eyes are cheered with what I see, my heart is saddened with what I hear. One has fallen into sin,--one I have highly esteemed in time past. What need to put on 'the whole armour of G.o.d,' and watch!--I felt more vigorous in my cla.s.ses to-day, and spoke very plainly, for I feel a great love for these souls.
”Thou art, O G.o.d, the life and light Of all this wondrous world we see; Its glow by day, its smile by night, Are but reflections caught from Thee; Where'er we turn Thy glories s.h.i.+ne, And all things fair and bright are Thine.”
”I feel decaying nature; but my soul does not lose its appet.i.te for divine things. In the midst of forgetfulness, and other infirmities, my only centre is in Christ.--As the day was fine, I walked to Heworth in search of an absent member, and after many inquiries, found out her abode; but she was not at home. I got some important information about her. My walk was a most impressive one,--on a lovely road, on either side overhung with foliage--but, being autumn, the way was strewed with withered leaves, while every breeze, though soft, wafted others to the ground in showers;--fit emblem of my own decay! I was much wearied.--The Rev. Robert Young, who has recently been on a deputation to the South Sea Missions, selected Fiji as the topic of his speech at the Missionary Meeting, and gave a very cheering account of my Richard, in the midst of cannibalism. I went into the vestry to speak with him; but was overwhelmed with my feelings. Have been laid aside by affliction; but the Lord has been intimately near. My faith has been strengthened, and I cling more closely to my best Friend.
Many blessed promises have been brought to remembrance, which have cheered me, and created sweet peace.--My faith wants to borrow the pinions of the eagle. Lord help me, I am Thine; I dare trust in Thee; unprofitable as I am, Thou art my G.o.d.--My thought before I rose this morning was:--
Down life's declivity, Borne by the surge, On to eternity, Swiftly I urge; Not without cheering hope, When I am gone, Jesus will bear me up, Straight to His throne.”
1856.--[A few lines written at the commencement of this year, contain the following reference to a circ.u.mstance, which, trivial as it was in itself, had nearly occasioned the loss of her sight.]
Time rushes on! Another scene appears!
In springtide thought, I stood upon the hearth; ”When in a moment, from the crackling flame A piece of burning ore flew in my eye, And suddenly eclipsed the light of day.
But He who opened blind men's eyes of old, Restored my sight. * * * *
”I am sensible of the want of grat.i.tude for the sight I have; though it is but imperfect, I can, by close attention, read my Bible, which at first was all I desired.--Visited two of my members, each of whom has had a fit, one being deprived of the left hand, and the other of the right;--humbling cause of grat.i.tude that I can use mine.
Youth with all its hopes is past, And middle life-with care; Now, in feeble age, I cast My all on G.o.d by prayer.
Exiled yet a little while, But guided by His eye; Happy I live beneath His smile, And happier still--shall die.”
”My meditations this morning have been sweet, on the words, 'Thou shalt also be a crown of glory in the hand of the Lord, and a royal diadem in the hand of thy G.o.d.' I cannot increase G.o.d's glory; but I--a worm--in the hand of my G.o.d, become crowned with glory.--My niece Caroline has departed this life. In a lucid moment, one asked, if Christ was precious; she answered, 'Yes' It was added, 'Just such a Saviour as you need?' 'Exactly,' was the reply.--I have given up my own house, and removed to my daughter Eliza's hoping the blessing of the Lord will attend the change. My mind has, beyond my expectation, been preserved in peace.--Came with my daughter to Haxby, for the benefit of a change. O that Thou wouldst bless my coming to _one_ soul!--Called upon Mrs. S., and was glad to find her desirous of knowing the truth, as also her daughter. I feel peculiarly drawn out in prayer, on behalf of the inhabitants of this village. Oh! that a glorious revival may break out here.--The means of grace are not so plentiful in Haxby as in the city; but here I enjoy the quiet of retirement, and breathe a purer atmosphere. Often the Spirit wafts me on to the better land, and I contemplate with pleasure my everlasting home.”
[Who can tell what shall be on the morrow? But a few weeks elapsed after this visit to Haxby, when her daughter Eliza, whose loving and gentle spirit endeared her to all who knew her, was taken away at a stroke. On the day on which the following entry is dated, she had exhibited an unusual degree of vivacity; and with great confidence borne testimony in the cla.s.s to the power of the grace of G.o.d.]
”A goodly number at the cla.s.s. In the evening Eliza read to Mrs. C.
and myself the interesting adieu of the French Protestant Minister, Adolphe Monod, introduced into the November number of the Methodist Magazine for 1856. We sat down to supper, and mournful to relate! she was seized with a fit of apoplexy, which lasted until nearly three in the morning, when her spirit calmly took its flight. How needful to be ready!--My dear daughter was carried to the cemetery, there to rest until the resurrection morn. While pa.s.sing through this painful dispensation, I have enjoyed the sweet consolations of the Spirit of G.o.d, and been able to recognize mercy mingled with judgment. The same evening my Eliza pa.s.sed into the skies, my son William was appointed to meet a few of the Lord's people.--The year heaves its last sigh, as I review the way in which G.o.d has led me. Very painful events have occurred. Scenes pleasant, and sad, have pa.s.sed before me; but around, and over all, mercy has spread a cloud of light; and here will I raise my heart, and say, 'Hitherto the Lord hath helped me.'”
XXII.
THE LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF EVENING.
”THE DAY GOETH AWAY, FOR THE SHADOWS OF EVENING ARE STRETCHED FORTH.”--Jer. vi. 4.
Have you ever observed the effect produced upon the eye by the rapid decrease of light, which takes place as night draws on, during that season of the year in which the twilight is shortest? For some minutes there appears a rapid succession of light and shade, each succeeding shadow deepening in gloom, until the night sets in. This phenomenon arises from the necessity which the pupil of the eye finds of adapting itself to the diminution of light; and it has hardly done so, before the increasing darkness requires a still further expansion of the visual aperture. Just so in human life, when its brightness has departed, and the night is at hand; there is often a rapid succession of painful occurrences, which fall like shadows upon the soul, and it has continually to adapt itself to its altered circ.u.mstances. The eye of faith can scarce keep pace with the demands made upon it, and the effect is a sense of occasional depression, which even the Christian cannot altogether resist. In the last two or three years of her life, Mrs. Lyth experienced what it was to be ”in heaviness through manifold temptations;” and although she wore the same happy smile, exhibited the same unwavering, and even triumphant confidence in G.o.d, and to all around her, it was evident she was fast ripening for her glorious reward; her diary shows that she was, in some of her solitary hours, subject to momentary depression; which, as she made no allowance for altered circ.u.mstances, and increasing infirmities, she was in danger of attributing to a wrong cause. It was not until after the death of her husband that there was any perceptible decline of her physical energies; the ”snow of age” fell lightly, so that she still continued for some time to discharge her accustomed duties in the church, until increasing weakness compelled her to relinquish, one by one, her visiting district for the Benevolent Society; her collecting books for various Inst.i.tutions; the Visitation of the school; the Treasurers.h.i.+p of the Poor Clothing Society; the Presidency of the Sewing meeting; and last, and to her the most painful of all--her Cla.s.s; for like her Lord, having loved her own, which were in the world, she loved them to the end. This unavoidable cessation from her ”more abundant” labours, and the life of pa.s.sive suffering she was now called to endure, perhaps more than anything else, was sometimes a source of painful reflection, and became an occasion of powerful temptation. She could not, however, be inactive; much of her time pa.s.sed in reading and prayer. Her pen and her knitting-needle were in constant requisition, and a fine day, or a little renewal of strength, often induced her, at the peril of her own health, to visit an unconverted neighbour, or an afflicted friend. The sudden removal of her daughter was acutely felt, and elicited several efforts of her muse, two of which are here given.
”1857.--Gone! gone! gone! The empty chair I see, But ah! no smile, as once, alights on me.
In what bright region doth thy spirit rest?
Since all are living, thou art surely blest.
I ask no more, the veil will soon remove, And I shall come to dwell with thee above.
”Just before I awoke, I dreamed I was reading; and it was written, 'He will receive thee to Himself, and give unto thee a kingdom.' It was repeated thrice.”
LONE MUSING.
Doth her spirit hover near!