THE WIDOW
DIRECTED TO
TH E W I DO W'S  G O D;
BY
JOHN ANGELL JAMES
WITH AN INTRODUCTION.'I,ET THY WIDOWS TRUST IN ME."-JER. XLIX. 11
NEW  YORK:
IOBERT CARTER & BROTHERS.
531 BROADWA Y.
1858








INTRODUCTION.
It is a remarkable fact, that the present volume is
the only one devoted especially to the consolation of
the widow. This does not arise from any want of
feeling for the afflicted and sorrowing. Many works
of great value have been written for mourners: but
still the widow, in all her peculiar loneliness and
severity of grief, has been only incidentally noticed ini
these volumes, or grouped with the great multitude
of the bereaved. This certainly is not to be attributed
to any intentional neglect or want of sympathy for
those whom God hath made desolate. In christian
countries, such have a very strong hold upon the
affections of the community.  They also readily.*ommand the assistance of all men. We are convcious, that the mere sight of woman clad in the
wreeds of widowhood., sensibly affects the heart and
awakens emotions of instinctive sympathy. Still, the
widow, until now; could find no book, written spe.




IT             INTRODU' TION.
clally for her, and adapted to her pecunar condition,
which she could take with her into her solitude. It
is true, in the consolations which have been administered to the bereaved and sorrowing, there was much
which would apply to the general condition of the
widow. It is true, in the Bible were to be found
many rich and precious assurances of special interest
in the heart of God, and of protection for herself and
fatherless children.  But these lie scattered, and
seemed to be almost too great and glorious to be
meant for the poor sufferer, well nigh consumed by
the intensity of her agony. There is something so
sacred and touching in the sorrows of widowhood;something which so instinctively shrinks away from
the public gaze, and seeks retirement, where alone
and unwatched, the heart may pour out the freshness
of its grief, that I do not wonder that pious men have
forborne publicly to address the widowv, lest they
might only wound the deeper, when they merely
sought to sympathise and give direction to her sorrow.
It must be admitted, that few men could with much
hope of success, undertake a task so delicate. Properly to perform it, required not only a warm and
generous heart, a clear and discriminating intellect,
a practical acquaintance with the laws of the human
mind, but also personal experience in similar grief




INTRODUC rION.                 V
in all these respects, the gifted author of this volume
is eminently qualified. Those who are acquainted
with him through his writings-arid much more,
those who have enjoyed his personal friendship-are
pursuaded, that Mr. James has not only a mind at
once of simplicity and elegance, but possesses a
heart of unusual generosity-alive to every appeal of
sorrow. Besides this, the past dispensations of Providence have made him familiar with the realties of
bereavement. The wife of his youth was early taken
from him, and for a considerable period he knew the
deep solicitude and the pensive sorrow of him thai
mourneth apart. Nay, more than this, even whilst
preparing this volume of consolation, all the sorrows
of the past have been quickened into life, and new
fountains of grief opened in his heart. By letters
recently received, we learn that his present companion, a lady of peculiar excellence, both intellectual
and moral, is rapidly, though sweetly, passing to
the skies.  Thus has Providence most singularly
prepared this man of God to perform  the delicate
task of speaking to the w dow, and by anticipated
sorrows, mingling deep sympathy with her drear and
cheerless solitude. Whilst he hands forth the cup
of consolation, he assures the mourner that it has
virtue; for he has tasted it, and proved its power.
1*




VI              IN TROl) DU CTION.
With the poet he can say, and thus:each every
mourner to say" What though a cloud o'ershade my sight,
Big with affliction's tear;
Yet FAITH, amid the drops that fall,
Discerns a rainbow there."
It will not be thought strange, when the circumstances are considered under which this book was
prepared, that it is the most precious of all his works.
There is a subdued and tender spirit breathed into
every paragraph and sentence.  There is something
which seizes upon the best feelings of the mlan,
awakening a livelier interest in the daughters of
affliction.
There is so much of God in these pages, —the
milder and more lovely attributes of his nature are
made so delightfully prominent, that the voice of
murmuring must be hushed. The divine wisdom is
so clearly illustrated, carrying forward the purposes
of benevolence, even by the agency of death, that the
theart must confide in God and be contented.
" With patience, then, the course of duty run,
God nothing does, nor suffers to be done,
But you yourself would do, if you could see
The end of all events as well as He."
W. P.
New-York, May 1841.




PREFACE.
ONE of the e'rands on which the Son of God came
from heaven to earth, was to bind up the brolkenhearted, and to comfort all that nlourn: and during
his sojourn upon earth, the tenderest sympathy was
one of the virtues which adorned that holy nature, in
which dwelt, as in its temple, " all the fulness of the
Godhead bodily."
Like their Divine Master, the ministers of the
gospel ought to be sons of consolation, and to perform
the functions of a comforter, as well as those of an
instructor: for if pure and undefiled religion, as
regards the professors of christianity, consists, in part,
of visiting the widow and fatherless in their affliction,
how much more incumbent is it on its teachers, to
b herish and to manifest the same tenderness of spirit
towards this deeply suffering portion of the human
family. A group of children gathered round a widowed
mother, and sobbing out their sorrows, as she repeats
to them, amidst many tears, their father's loved and
honoured name, is one of those pictures of woe, on
which few can look with an unmoistened eye.
Is it not strange, then, that with claims upon our
sympathy, so strong and so generally aclknowledged,




such mourners should have engaged -no pious authot
to produce a separate treatise for their relief? That
while the department of hortatory theology is so rich
in its stores of consolation for the afflicted in general,
the widozw should have had no tribute of sympathy
specially prepared to meet her sad case? At least I
know of none. Popular treatises of inestimable value,
such as Cecil's "Friendly Visit to the tHouse of
Mourning;" Grosvenor's "M''ourner Comforted;" and
H-3ill's' Faith's estimate of Afflictive Dispensations,"
published by the Religious Tract Society, under the
title "It is Well;" are known by thousands to their
consolation, and are, of course, as appropriate to the
widow as to any other of the varieties of mournersbut she needs a special message of comfort from her
Lord; a voice which speaks to her case alone; a strain
of consolation which, in its descriptions and condolence, is appropriate, and exclusively so, to her. As
it is the peculiarity of our sorrows which often gives
them their depth and pungency, so it is the peculiarity
Af sympathy also which gives'o this cordial for a
&inting  spirit, its balmy and revilng power. Affliction, like bodily disease, has numerous varieties; and,
comfort, like medicine, derives its efficacy from its
suitableness to the case.
In Dr. Adam Thompson's i' Consolations for Christian Mourners,' there are two excellent sermons
addressed to widows; but these constitute no exception to the statement, that there is no separate work
ftr such mourners. May the present attempt, spe



PREFACE.                   ix
cially addressed to them, by one who knows, lihe
trusts, by experience, the value of the considerations
he submits to others; by one who has been called in
time past to weep, and is now trembling and weeping
again, be blessed by the God of all consolation, for
their comfort.
The following work is written with great simplicity, in sentiment and style: for it would be a mockery of woe to approach it with far fetched subjects;
recondite discussion; cold logic; or artificial rhetoricThe bruised heart loves the gentlest handling, and
the troubled spirit is soothed with the simplest music.
The soul has no inclination, at such times, and in
such circumstances, for any thing but the "sincere
milk of the word," leaving the strong meat for other
and healthier seasons.
J. A. J
Edgbaston, March 9th, 1841.




CONTENTS.
FIRST PART.
APPROPRIATE SUGGESTIONS TO WIDOWS.
C [ APTER.                                        PAGE
I. Sympathy.                                   11
I. Submission...           16
Ill. Instruction... -  - -  35
1 V. Consolation...   54
V. Confidence in God          -         -  -        79
Vt. Benefits of Affliction. -                 89
SECOND PART.
SCRIPTURE EXAMPLES OF WIDOWS.
I. NAOMI, RUTH, and ORPAH             -           101
II. The Widow of Zarephath           -   -.    116
111. The Widow of one of the Sons of the Prophets    128
I V. The Widow casting her two Mites into the Treasury 141
V. The Widow of Nain..   -        148
VI. ANNA the Prophetess.   -   --         157
THIRD PART.
LETTERS TO WIDOWS.
JOHN HOWE, to Lady RUSSELL          -   -   -        16'3
Mrs. LOVE'S Letters to her Husband    -   -          170
Mr. LovE's Reply.              -  172
LETTERS FROM WIDOWS.
Mrs. IIUNTINGTON'S Letter on the Death of her Husband 116
To a Friend who had lost a near Relation    -       1
To a Friend who had lost her Husband.   -.   185
Lady POWERSCOURT'S L.etter on the Death of her Husband 189
Letter VI. from ditto...          191
Letter vIIi. from ditto  -                          194
Letter Ix. from ditto.       196
Mrs. LEWIS' Ictter on the Death of her Husband       198
Conclusion..   o




FIRST PART.
APPROPRIATE SUGGESTIONS TO WIDOWS.
CHAPTER I.
SY IPATHY.
A WIDow! What a desoiate name! If there be
one amidst the crowd of mourners that tread the vale
of tears, who above all others, claims our sympathy,
and receives it, it is you who have laid down the
endearing appellation of Wife, to take up that of
Widow. It would be a mockery of your woe to say,
"W'Voman, why weepest thou?"  You may weep,
you must, you ought. You are placed by Providence
in the region of sorrow, and tears befit your condition.
Let them flow, and mine shall flow with them, for if it
be ever our duty to weep with those that weep, it is
when the Widow is before us. The death-bed scene
is still fresh in your recollection; the parting look, the




12               SYM PAT' HY
last embrace are still present to your imagination.
And oh! the sense of loss that presses like a deadl
weight upon your spirit, and converts this whole busy
world around you, into one vast wilderness. YoTl
have my tenderest condolence. The closest tie which
bound you to earth has been severed. It seems to
you as if there were nothing left for you to do upon
earth but to weep.' The husband's much loved image, if it hang not upon the wall, silent and motionless, is drawn upon the heart, for the imagination to
gaze upon, and to remind you of your desolation.
He whose absence but for a week or a day created
an uneasiness which nothing could relieve but his return, is gone not for a day, or a week, or a year, but
forever. He is never to come back, to gladden the
heart of his wife, and to bless his household.
It has been finely observed "that the loss of a
friend, (and much more the loss of a husband,) upon
whom the heart was fixed, to whom every wish and
endearment tended, is a state of dreary desolation,
on which the mind looks abroad impatient of itself,
and finds nothing but emptiness and horror. The
blameless life, the artless tenderness, the pious simplicity, the modest resignation, the patient sickness,
and the quiet death, are remembered only to add
value to the loss, to aggravate regret for what cannot be amended, to deepen sorrow for what cannot
be recalled.  Other evils, fortitude may repel, or
hope may mitigate, but irreparable privation leaves
nothing to exercise resolution, or flatter exrectation.




S Y M1 P A T H~ Y.          1 l
The dead cannot return, and nothing is left as here
but languishment and grief."*
But it is not merely the loss of such a friend you
have to mourn, but probably the means of your com
fortable sustenance. Your husband was your provider, and the supporter of your babes; When he
died all your prospects faded. The sun of your prosperity set upon his grave. Even when an ample for.tune is left, it is a poor substitute for that friend
whose decease covered the earth with sackcloth, and
spread a pall over every terrestrial scene; but whal
an aggravation of woe, what a dreariness is added tc
desolation, when' the spectres of poverty and want.
or even the dark portents of care and privation, rise
from a husband's grave. Perhaps even his labor,
and skill, and patient perseverance, were but just
sufficient to support the family; and what is the
widow, unused, perhaps, to business, and untrained
to hardship, to do alone? "It is," says Mr. Bruce,
"' the climax of human sorrow, when the wife of
youth is left to mourn the loss of an affectionate husband.at the time when his well-formed schemes were
advancing to maturity; so that, in addition to the
care of providing for her rising offspring, some of
whom never learned to lisp the name of father, she
has to struggle with difficulties which his sagacity
and perseverance might have overcome."
Nor is it only the want of support, afflicted woman
* Dr. Thomson's Consolations for Mourners, p. 119.
2




14              SYMIPATHY.
you dread for yourself and your children, but the
want of protection. You have seen enough of the
world to know, how selfishness prevails over benevolence, and how little disinterestedness is to be
expected from that multitude, in which are to be
found so many who oppress the weak, and so many
more that neglect the friendless. A thousand fears
of insult and injuries rise in your perturbed mind
and you feel as if the tear of the widow, and the cry
of the fatherless, will have little power to interest the
busy, and to melt the iron heart of the unjust. Already, perhaps, you think you have received significant hints, not to be mistaken, even from the friends
of your husband, that your expectations, even of
counsel and advice, much more of other kinds of
assistance, must be very limited. It is possible, however, that sorrow, solitude, and dependance, may
have produced a sensitiveness on this subject, which
makes you more suspicious and mistrustful, than you
have need to be, and that after all, there is a larger
portion of sympathy and generous intention, than you
may be led to suppose.
To the widow of the depatLed Christian, there is
another ingredient in the cup of her sorrow, another
aggravation of the loss she has sustained, and that'is, she is deprived of her own spiritual comforter and
companion; and if she be a mother, of the religious
instructor and guide of her children. He that was
at once the king, the prophet, and the priest of the
little domestic community, is removed. How ten



SYMPATHY.                 15
der]y did he solve her doubts, relieve her perplexities,
and comfort her in her sorrows. How sweet was it
to take counsel with him on the things of another
world, and to walk to the house of GoD in company
What sabbaths they spent, and what sacramentai
seasons they enjoyed together. And then his nightly
and morning sacrifice at the domestic altar; his fervent prayers, and his pious breathings for his family
but that tongue is now silent in the grave; those
holy hands are now no more lifted up to bless the
household; that mild sceptre of paternal rule has
dropped. Even he, good man, felt a dread and a
trembling that sometimes almost overcame his faith
and trust, as he lay upon his death bed, and anticipated the hour when he should leave his children
amidst the snares and temptations of this dangerous
world. I do not wonder that you, his sad survivor,
should feel your great responsibility, as you look
round on the bereaved circle, and remember that
these young immortals are left to your sole guidance
and guardianship. Often you say, as the tears roll
down your cheeks, "It is not merely, nor chiefly, the
the care of their bodies, nor the culture of their minds,
that makes me feel my sad privation, but the interests of their souls. I could eat my bread, if it were
only bread, and drink my cup of cold water, and deal
out bread and water to them with tolerable com
posure, if I could well discharge the duty I owe to
their souls, and see them following their sainted parent
to the skies: but oh! the thought that my boys have




16               sYMP ri THY.
lost a father to gui(.e them along the slippery pa,,ls
of youth, and form their character for time and eternity too; and that at a season when his instructive
example, and advice was most needed; tllis is the
wormwood and gall of a widow's cup."
Afflicted woman, if sympathy be a balm for the
wounds of your lacerated heart, you have it. Bad
as human nature is, it is not so entirely bereft of the
whatsoever things are lovely, as not to condole with
you. It is not yours to reproach, in the language of
holy writ, the insensibility of a whole generation,
and say, "Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by:
come see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow,
wherewith the Lord has afflicted me." This little
volume, at any rate, comes to you as a comforter
and a counsellor. One individual has thought upon
you; and as a minister of him, who wept at the
grave of Lazarus, and who restored to the widow of
Nain, her son, when she was following him with a
heart half broken to the grave, he comes with more
than human sympathy, and earthly consolation. It
is balm from heaven he brings, and a divine medicine for your sick and sorrowful heart. It is Christianity, in the person of one of its ministers that presents the cup of peace. 0 turn not away from it,
nor refuse to be comforted. Hush then, the clamor
of tumultuous thoughts; calm the perturbations of
your troubled spirit; for the voice of the Comfoxter
can be heard only in the silence of submission. Yes,
even your grief is susceptible of allev;ation.  I can



SYMPATHY.                  17
not bxeak open the tomb to undo the work of Death,
and re-animate and restore the dust which lies sleeping there: I cannot replace by your side the dear
companion that has been torn from it: but I can suggest topics, which, if you can sufficiently control your
feelings to ponder them, are of such a nature, so
soothing and sustaining, that they will pluck the
sting from your affliction, and enable you by God's
grace, to bear up with fortitude under a load, which
would otherwise crush you to the earth. I am anxious at once to possess you with the idea, that you
ought not to be, and need not be inconsolable. Tenderly as I. feel' for you, and anxious as I am not to
handle roughly the wounds which have been inflicted
upon your peace, still I must remind you that you
are not authorised to indulge yourself in an unlimited liberty of grief; nor to justify such an excess,
by affirming that you do well to be sorrowful even
unto death. I beseech you then to obtain leave of
vour agitated heart, to listen to the gracious words
of Him of whom it is so beautifully said, " He comfobrteth those that are cast down." In his name 1
speak to you; and I speak of that wnich I have
tasted, and felt of the Word of GoD. I too have
been afflicted likt yourself, and have known, pot by
observation merely, but by experience, what a desolation and blank one single death can make in the
garden of earthly joys: and where in that hour of
dreariness and woe, the lonely spirit may find a
refuge and a home.
2*




18-            SUBMiSS10N.
CHAPTER II.
SUBMIISSION.
"BE still, and know that I am GOD." Such is
the admonition which comes to you; and which
comes from heaven. It is GoD himself that has bereaved you, through whatever second causes he has
inflicted the blow. Not even a sparrow falleth to
the ground without his knowledge, much less a
rational and immortal creature. He has the keys
of death, and never for a moment trusts them out of
his hand: the door of the sepulchre is never unlocked but by himself. Though men die and drop
as unheeded by many as the fall of the autumnal
leaf in the pathless desert, they die not by chance.
Every instance of mortality, that for example which
has reduced you to your present sorrowful condition,
is a separate decision of infinite wisdom. Whether
therefore the death of your husband was slow or
sudden; at home or abroad; by accident or disease;
it was appointed, and all its circumstances arranged
by GoD. "Be still, therefore, and know that he is
GoD who doeth his will among the armies of heaven,
and the inhabitants of the earth, nor allows any one




SUBMISSION.                 19.0 say unto him, What doest thou?"  Bow down
before him  with unqualified submission, and find
relief in acquiescence.
But what is submission to God? It is not a stoical
apathy; a state of mind that scorns to feel; a proud
refusal to pay the tribute of a tear to nature's God,
when he demands it  No: chastened grief is allowed, is called for. Sorrow is one of the natural
affectiorrs of the soul, not to be uprooted, but culti.
vated. If we did not feel our losses, we should not
be the bcter for- them. Gentle and well directed
grief, softens our hard hearts, and prepares them for
the impression of divine truth, just as showers in
spring mollify the ground, and meeten it for the reception of the seed, and the process of germination.
But then you must repress inordinate grief. Submission to the will of God, while —it allows reasonable sorrow, forbids that which is excessive. Give
not yourselves up to sorrow. All passionate distress,
such as shuts out consolation and refuses to be comforted, is high rebellion against the will of heaven.
It is at once irreligious and unreasonable.  It is
more, it is destructive, for it is "the sorrow of the
world that worketh death." Your health is now
doubly precious, and your life doubly desirable, for
the sake of your children. You alone have now to
care for them, perhaps, to provide for them; and it
is immensely important not to waste that strength
and energy in consuming sorrow, which is necessary
for their welfare. Excessive grit.f will not oruy unfit




20               SUBMISSIC N.
you for exertion, but it will incapacitate you from
deriving any improvement from  the stroke.  The
voice and lessons of God's providence will be unheeded, yea, unheard, amidst the noise of your tumultuous sorrows. Restrain your feelings. Call in
reason, and especially religion, to your assistance.
Submission forbids all passionate invective; all
rebellious language; all bitter reflections on second
causes; and all questionings about the wisdom,
goodness, or equity of Providence. "I was dumb,"
said the Psalmist, " I opened not my mouth;" there
is submission-" because thou didst it;" there is the
ground of it. It is said of Aaron, when both his
sons were struck dead before the Lord, he "held
his peace." It was not the silence of stupor, or of
stubbornness, but of submission. How striking is
the commendation passed upon Job, when it is said,
in reference to his behavior under his complicated
losses," In all this Job sinned not, nor charged God
foolishly." He said nothing irreverend, or rebellious
against God. But it is equally incumbent upon you,
in order to the performance of this duty, that you
should not only suppress all murmuring and complaining language, but all thoughts and feelings of
this kind. If while the tongue is silent, the heart is
full of rebellion, there is no acquiescence. Many
wilo would be afraid, or ashamed to give uttJrance
to their feelings of insubcrdination, still continue to
indulge them. The abstinence from murmuring and
repining words, then, is not submission, unless the




SUBMISSION.                  21
heart be still. WVe must not contend with God, noi
fight against Providence within the breast, for " ne
searcheth the heart and trieth the reins of the children
of men."
Submission is that state of the soul under afflictive
dispensations of Providence, which produces an acquiescence in the will of God, as just, and wise, and
good. It expresses itself in some such manner as the
following; " I feel and deeply feel the heavy loss 1
have sustained, and nature mourns and weeps; but
as I am persuaded it is the Lord's doing; who has a
right to do as he pleases, and who is at the same
time too wise to mistake, and too benevolent to put
me to unnecessary pain, I endeavor to bow down tc
his will."
Such is submission; but how difficult! How hard
the duty to acquiesce in an event, which has reduced
you to such a state of desolation, that earth seems
to have lost its principal chirms. Difficult my afflicted friend it is, but not impossible. All things
are possible with God, and what you cannot do in
your own strength, you can in hlis. Multitudes have
submitted, whose loss was as great, whose prospects
were as gloomy as yours. I have heard the language; I have seen the conduct of submission in
widows' houses, and have admired the grace of God,
as manifested in such persons, and in such circumstances. That grace is sufficient for you. Do not
make up your mind that submision is impossible for
you; on the contrary be rersus. ed that it may, by




22                jBS JBISSiO N.
God's help, blecome your privilege, as it unquestionably is your duty, to exercise it. Pray for it, let this
be the burden of your supplication to God, but let i!
be presented in faith;
0 Lord my best desires fulfil,
And help me to resign,
Life, health, and husband, to thy will,
And make Thy pleasure mine.
In bringing you and others to this state of mind,
God employs motives; he places certain truths and
sentiments before the mind of the afflicted and enables them to contemplate these principles with such
fixed attention, as to admit their reasonableness and
force, and under their..oothing and powerful influence, to suppress the murmur, and hush every complaint to silence. Some of these I now present to
your notice.
i. Consider God's indubitable and unlimited right
to take from you the dear companion of your life.
Are we not all his creatures, over whom he has
an absolute, and irresponsible control? Has he acted
the part of a ruthless invader of your domicile, and
committed an aggression, which he can as little justify, as you could. resist? Is it an unauthorised spoliation? No. Painful as it is to you, it was not an
unrighteous act in him. Shall he not do as he will
with his own? You recei-ed your/husband,iif you
received him with right views, rather as a loan, than
an absolute gift; as a favor lent to be recalled at any




SUBMISSION.                 23
time, when the donor thought proper to lo so. And
new he has demanded it back again. Hearken te
kis expostulation; "Woman, I do you ixo wrong, in
asking for what belongs to me. Have I deceived
you? Did I ever renounce my right, cr promise to
forego my claim; or even intimate that I would not
urge it, till you had arrived at extreme old age? Be
still, and know that I.am God." Do not then contend with God. Yield to his sovereign will. Submit
to his disposal.
2. But this perhaps will be thought by some like
vinegar to a festering wound; and it will be felt as a
harsh and feeble motive to submission, to tell a
mourning widow that God had a right to take from
her the desire of her eyes. "Oh!" she is ready to
exclaim, " is this all you can say to me?" No: but it
is the basis of every thing else: and even this is said
rather to awe the rebellious thoughts, to keep in
check the turbulent feelings, in order that silence and
calmness being obtained, softer and sweeter accents
may be listened to. Think then of his unerring wisdom. He cannot mistake. He does nothing at random, nothing in haste, nothing in ignorance. "He is
wise in heart:" and his understanding is infinite.
IIe worketh all things after the ciunsel of his will.
He fills every thing with the product of his all-wise
mind; yes, even your bitter cup of sorrow. " Verily
he is a God that hideth himself," but it is in the
secret place of his infallible wisdom.  "His judgments are a great deep," but it is a depth of un.




24              SUTJBMISSION.
fatnomable knowledge. There is some wise end to
be answered; some object worthy of himself to be
accomplished in your bereavement. He may not,
and will not, perhaps, reveal it to you now, for reasons
which he can justify: but if it were proper or possible for you to know it, you would exclaim, "Oh
the depth of the riches both of his wisdom and knowledge! How unsearchable are his judgments, and
his ways past finding. out." If you could see the
wisdom of his plans, and it were then left to your
choice to take back your husband again from the
grave, you would not dare to do it, on account of the
disarrangement and disorder which'you would see
must ensue. Have you not sometimes abstracted
something from your children, without assigning any
reason, or explaining to them what it would be improper for them to know, or impossible for them to
comprehend, and required them to confide in your
known prudence? Is it too much for God to expect
this confidence from you? He is wise: confide in
his wisdom. The moment your thoughts are rising
into rebellion, or sinking into despondency, repeat the
short, the simple, but the potent sentiment, " God
has done it, and God is wise."
3. Nor is this all: for God is good. His name is
Love. His wisdom is employed to fulfil the purposes of benevolence. He is concerned for the happiness of his creatures. " He does not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men." He takes no
pleasure in the tears aid groans of his offspring, ant




SUBDIISSION.               25
more than ea thly parents do, but like them, he often
sees it necessary to call for their tears. Did you never
exercise your kindness in taking from the hand of a
child, that which the babe would not surrender
without weeping?  Divine goodness, when it is
clearly understood in all its schemes and motives,
will be as clearly demonstrated in what it takes, as
in what it gives. Add these two ideas together, infinite' goodness, and infinite wisdom. Apply them
both to God: believe that they really belong to him,
and that they were both concerned in your affliction,
and then murmur if you can. Did we really believe
m the doctrine of Providence, and that he who superintends its administration, unites to an arm of omnipotence, a mind of infinite knowledge, and a heart
of boundless love, submission would be easy. Is the
sepulchre of a husband the only place where his wisdom and love may be doubted? Are these glorious
attributes dead and buried in the grave of that beloved man whom you have lost? It is nothing that
you cannot understand how your present melancholy
circumstances can comport with love; your children'often found it as difficult to harmonise your conduct
with love; but now they are arrived at manhood,
they clearly comprehend it, and admire the rich displays of judicious kindness with which your treatment of them was replete. The time of weeping
and suffering, and with it the time of ignorance, has
passed away, and now your paternal character stands
justified before them. So sha  it be with you, when
3




26               3UB3TIlSSIO N.
you have reacned your maturity in.eaven, you will
see the goodness c(f God which was contained even
in these painful dispensations of providence, under
which you now so bitterly suffer. Yes, God is good,
do not doubt it. Every attribute of God's nature is
a motive to submission; every view we can take of
that nature, and our relations to him, is a reason why
we should acquiesce in what he does. It is only
when out of sight of him, that we can indulge in a
rebellious murmuring, and a refractory resistance of
his will; the momarnt we come back into his awful
presence, and realise him as near, we feel subdued.
4. But the foundation of this state of mind is laid,
not only in considering what God is, but what WE
are. Murmuring and complaining have their origin
irt ignorance or forgetfulness of our sinful condition.
None can truly submit to affliction which they. do
not feel they have deserved. The heroine, a widow,
of what has been called one of the purest of our
tragedies, is made to say, in the bitterness and pressure of her griefs, "Gracious heaven, what have I
done, to merit such afflictions') As long as you have
such an opinion of yourself, there is, there can be, no
submission. The very idea that we do not deserve't, is rebellion against the will of heaven, and will
inevitably lead to the most unholy and unchastised
sorrow. It is only when we enter into the words
of the Psalmist that we shall give up our mur.
murings and repinings. " He hath not dealt with us
after our sins, nor rewarded us according to out




SUBMISSION.                27
iniquities.' How meekly does the prophet sLbmit
to the chastening hand of God, under the subduing
power of this one thought, " I will bear the indignation of the Lord, because I have sinned against
him." " Wherefore should a man complain, a living
man for the punishment of his sins." Oh sufferer, take
this view of your case, and consider yourself a sinner.
Call to recollection what sin is, an infinite evil, and deserving of an infinite punishment; an evil that might
have lon- since consigned you to the abodes of interminable misery. Dwll upon the number, the aggra
vations, and the repetitions of your sins. Among other
sins, perhaps, you may mention your ingratitude for,
and mnisimprovement of the mercy you have lost.
You made your husband your god, inasmuch as you
loved lhim more than God: and can you wonder that
he is removed? " It is of the Lord's mercies that
you are not consumed, because his compassions fail
not." Dare you murmur, since you have only the
rod, when you might have had the curse? Does the
language of complaint become those lips, which
might have been pouring forth the petition for a drop
of water to cool your parched tongue? I deny not
the reality or the weight of your affliction: I do not
insult your griefs by affirming that their is no cause
for them. I admit you may justly go mourning all
your days; but then T contend it is a powerful motive
to submit, to consider that you might have been torInented through all eternity: and that nothing has a
more powerful tendency to check the excess of sor



28               S TT rB I  s s I So N.
row, than the consideration, that your sins have justly
merited all you have suffered, ever wvill, or ever can,
suffer on earth.
5. But I may also mention that one of the great
ends of Providence in sending the affliction, is to
brine you into a'state of submission. Perhaps you
have never yielded your heart to God. Gcd spake
to you in your prosperity, and you would not hear.
You have tried to be independent of God. You have
lived for yourself and not for God. You have never
yet taken his yoke upon you. In the days of your
fullness you yielded not your heart to him; and now
he is calling you to yield to him in the time of your
straits. As you would not submit to him amidst the
joys of the married state, he has placed you in widowhood, and calls for submission there. "Surely she
will resign herself to me now," is perhaps his declaration and expectation. How much is lie set on producing this state of mind in you, when lie takes such
methods to accomplish it. Shall his end be defeated?
Will you resist now? Will you carry on the conflict in your weeds?' What, not yield now, broken,
disappointed, forlorn, as you are? Will you be rebellious, not only in sight of the flowing fountain,
)ut amidst the wreck and fragments of the broken
cisterns; and contend against God, like Jonah, not,nly beneath the shade of the green and flourishing
cgourd, but before the naked stem of the blighted and
withered one? Oh woman, submit to God, it is fol:his he has driven thee into the wilderness, like Ha



suBMISSION.                  29
GAR of old, and mayest thou, like her, cease the conflict there, and say, "Thou God seest me. Here
also have I looked after him who seeth me.
6. Among the motives to submission, should be
placed, a due regard to your own comfort. It has
been beautifully said, that the wild bird, yet untamed
and unaccustomed to confinement, beats itself almost
to death against the wires of its cage, while the tame
prisoner, quietly acquiesces, and relieves its solitude
ny a song. An apt illustration of the soothing influence of submission. No possible relief, but a certain
and immense addition to the calamity is gained by
mourning and repining. It is a vain and useless
thing, as well as a sinful one. It is of itself a deep
affliction, a sad discomposure of spirit, a fever of the
heart, a delirium of the soul, and is so much added
to the weight of the original trouble. But resignation to the dispensations of God's Providence, what
a blessed anodyne is this to the soul; what a sabbath
from all those sinful disturbances which discompose
our spirits; it is a lower heaven; a green and sunny
spot in a region of gloom, and desolation: for as in
the state of glory there is an unchangeable agreement
between the will of the Creator and of the creature,
so according to the same measure wherein we conform
our wills to God's now, we proportionably enjoy the
holiness and blessedness of that state. Daughter of
sorrow, since you can no longer enjoy the pleasure of
possession, seek the comfort of submission. Extract
by resignation, the few drops of cordial, which even
3*




30              SUBMISSION.
your wormnwood and gall contain. Forbidden any
longer to enjoy the sweetness of gratitude for the retention of the boon, open your heart to the tran.
quillising comfort of surrendering it to God. Mollify the wounds of your lacerated heart with the
balm of acquiescence, and do not inflame them with
the uncontroled grief of a rebellious spirit. Try the
effect of these sweet words, "Father! not my will,
but thine be done." They will be like the voice of
Christ, to the winds and waves of the stormy lake:
or like heavenly music to the troubled mind. There
is no relief but in unqualified submission, and there
is relief in that.
7. Perhaps you are a professor of religion, and
ought to find in that another and a powerful motive
to this frame of mind. You profess to believe in God
through Christ, and to consider him as the author or
all our trials, as well as of all our comforts; to view
hiin as your Father; to be assured that he loves you
too well to do you any harm; to be confident that
he is making all things work together for your good.
Now then let us see the blessed influence of your
faith. Let us behold in you the tranquillising power
of your principles. Should you sorrow as do others?
Should you appear as uncontrolable in your grief as
those who know not God  A day or two sirice I
visited a widow, whose husband had been killed by
the overthrow of a carriage. I found her as might
be expected deeply afflicted; but it was grief kept
within du ~ bounds by the controling power of emin



SUB MISSION.                31
ent piety, as dignified as it was deep, and there were
circumstances too, eminently calculated to produce a
complicated sorrow. Her calm, though affecting distress attracted the attention of a lady whose brother
had died awfully sudden. " Ah," she exclaimed, to
my bereaved friend, "how differently did my sisterin-law act to what you have done. But your composure is the effect of religion. I see now the power
of religion." Be it your study to exhibit the same
power, and to draw forth the same testimony.
Glorify God in the fires. Let it be your prayer that
your religion may shine forth in all its lustre, and
manifest itself in all its glory. Let it be one of your
consolations to be enabled to do honor to the truth
and grace of God in your support. Think what an
effect a contrary spirit will have upon those who observe it. How many widows making a.profession
of religion, have by the violence of their grief
astonished the observer of their conduct. It was not
a scene or a season in which to utter the language
of reproach, but who could help saying to themselves, though delicacy kept them from saying to the
sufferer, " Where in all this tumult of soul, and excessive grief, is their religion. Is there no help for
them in God? We expected a calmer sorrow, from
a christian. She does not much commend religion
to us."
8. Some of you may contrast your circumstances
with those of others around you. Wrap not your
weeds upon you, and say, " Is there any sorrow like




312              S SUB ZU ISSION.
unto my sorrow?" Is there? Yes; an5i lr greater.
You have lost a good husband; but perhaps you
have a comfortable support for yourself and your
children,-there goes the poor widow who has lost
her support, as well as her husband. You are left
with fatherless children, but they are kind and dutiful,-there is a widow whose heart bruised by her
loss, is well nigh broken by the unkindness of an tundutiful son. Your children are all in health,-there
is a widow who pours her daily tears over a crippled
son, or a consumptive daughter. You are surrounded by a wide circle of sympathising friends,-there
is a widow, forlorn, alone, and a stranger in this
busy world. Oh it is well sometimes to compare
our sorrows with those of others. What widow that
shall read these pages can speak of grief like the
following?" A poor woman, fiom the north of England, went
with her family to seek employment in the parish
of St. Mary-le-bone, London. The husband, through
fatigue, was attacked with a bilious fever; the disorder soon assumed a very malignant, putrid character, of which he died. Two of the children caught
the infection, and died also.  The widow was reduced, with her surviving children, to the most deplorable poverty, and seemed on the point of starving. In this situation she was visited by a christian,
who observed an old Bible, with a large print, lying
on her table. He said,'I perceive you can read, and
have got the best of books by you.' She replied,




SUBMISSION.                 33
Oh, sir, what should I have done without it? It is
not my own. My eyes are, with illness, anxiety,
and tears, too weak for a small print: I borrowed
this Bible of a neighbour. It has been food to my
b)ody as well as to my soul.. nave often passed
many hours without any nourishment, but I have
read this blessed book, till I have forgotten my'huiger.' Sometime after this the poor woman died,
literally worn down and exhausted with want and
anxiety; but the night before she expired, the consolations of the holy Scriptures shone in her countenance. She spoke of her dissolution with a smile
of sacred triumph; enumerated her pious ancestors
and acquaintance, with whom she trusted shortly to
unite in joy and felicity; and seemed, as it were, to
feel the saying brought to pass, which is written,'Death is swallowed up in victory."'
Read this, and be still. Read this, and learn that
there is no weight of sorrow under which genuine
faith in God's word, cannot sustain you.
9. Make another comparison, I mean between
your losses and trials, as a woman, and your mer-,es and gains as a christian. Here, say you, is the
grave of my dear husband,-there, I say, is the cross,
the grave, the throne of your Redeemer. Here, say
you, is his vacant seat at my table, his vacant place
at my side, his vacant chair at my hearth-there is
God, with his smiling countenance, his heart of love,
his covenant of grace, his all-sufficient resources, to'
fill the vacuum. Here, say you, is the weight of




U3tw            SUEDiISUB MSSION.
woe and care Ipfessing upon my heart, like a dead
unsupportable load-but there is not the burden oi
unpardoned sin, sinking down your soul to the bottomless pit. Here, say you, is now my gloonly house
-there is the house of your God, always inhabited
by his gracious presence. Here, say you. I am a forlorn creature upon earth, having lost all that rendered the world delightful-there is heaven glowing
like a brilliant firmament over your head. into which
your departed husband has entered, and where you
will soon join him in glory everlasting. Think how
many widows there are, who have no covenant God
to go to; no consolations of the Spirit to sustain
them; no pleasure in the Bible or in prayer to. soothe
them. You, even you, ought to rejoice in a present
Saviour and a future heaven. All the attributes of
God, all the offices of Christ, all the consolations
of the Spirit, all the promises of scripture, all the
blessings of grace, all the prospects of glory remain
to be set over against your loss: and is not this
enough? 




ASTfRtVCTION. N
CHAP TE!R II1
INSTRUCTION.
GOD is the best and only infallible teacher. "None
teacheth like him."  He delivereth his lessons in
various ways, and through different mediums. The
Scriptures, of course, contain the fullest and clearest
revelation of his will; but these are corroborated and
illustrated by the works of nature, and the dispensations of Providence.  Events are pregnant with
nstruction. "Hence," saith the prophet, " the Lord's
voice cometh unto the city: hear ye the rod, and who
hath appointed it." Yes, every rod, as well as every
word, has a voice; and it becomes us to listen to it.
Afflicted woman, read the lessons which Providence
has inscribed in dark characters on the tomb of your
husband. It may be that God is saying to you, "I
spake unto thee in thy prosperity, but thou saidst I
will not hear; this hath been thy manner from youth
that thou obeyedst not my voice." Jer. xxii. 21.
Taken up with the -enjoyment of the dear objects to
be found in a quiet and comfortable home, you withheld your heart from God. You neither loved, served.
enjoyed, nor glorified him as the end of vonurkexistence.




ISTR UCTION.
Your husband was your idol, the stay and prop of
your mind: and now God, who is a jealous God, and
will not endure a rival, has removed the object of
that supreme attachment, which ought to have been
placed on him; and in language which derives additional weight and solemnity from being uttered over
the sepulchre, saith "I am God, and there is none
else. Thou shalt have none other God besides me;
and thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy
mind, and heart, and soul, and strength." This is
his demand now, and it always was. It is not only
what he says, now in the wilderness into which he
has driven you,. but what he said when you walked
in the Eden of your earthly delight, and felt that
your husband was to you as the tree of life in the
midst of the garden. Now then open your ear, and
hear the voice of his Providence. Open your eye and
read the lessons which, as I have said, are inscribed
on that tomb, which contains all that was dearest to
you on earth. Desire to learn; be willing to learn;
and much is needed to be learnt from the sorrowful
scenes through which you have been, and still are
called to pass. When God takes such methods to
teach, surely you should be willing to learn; and it
may be that it is his intention to make up to you by
spiritual instruction and consolation, if you will recoive it, the loss he has called you to sustain of temporal comfort.
1. Are you nol most impressively reminded of the
evil of sin?




INSTRUC rION.                37
What could more affectingly illustrate this, than
the deep sorrow which has fallen upon you? If the
magnitude of an evil may be ascertained by the
magnitude of its effects, what must sin be, which
nas produced such consequences, as those you have
witnessed. What agonies it has inflicted, what ties
it has rent asunder, what desolation it has made,
what scenes it has produced, that widowed mother,
those helpless, perhaps portionless babes, that gloomy
house, those flowing tears too well proclaim! And
what is the cause?  Sin. "Sin entered into the
world, and death by sin: so death has passed upon
all men, fobr that all have sinned." Yes; death with
all its consequences, are the bitter fruits of sin. Had
not man sinned he had been immortal.  Every
instance of death is the infliction of a penalty; for
" the wages oI sin is death." Think of what sin has
robbed you. Calculate the mischief-which it has
wrought in your desolate abode. What has made
you a widow? Sin. What has made your children
fatherless? Sin. And think of the millions who are
at this moment, in similar sad and melancholy circumstances. God is benevolent, and doth not afflict
willingly, nor grieve the children of men; and yet he
is perpetually multiplying widows and orphans by
the ravages of death. How evil must sin be in his
sight, when he takes this method of sh6wing his abhorrence of it; when he has fixed this penalty to it.
And then this is only the first death, a mere type and
symbol of that more painful " second death," which,
4




38               INSTRUCTION.
falleth upon the wicked in another world. Consider
then the evil of sin. Take deep, large, views of it.
Recollect you are a sinner: not vicious indeed, but
virtuous; not profligate, but moral; but still a sinner
in the sight of God. " For all have sinned and come
short of the glory of God." Oh have you thought of
this?  Have you been convinced of sin by the Spirit
of God? Have you seen your sinfulness, as well as
heard of it? Felt it, as well as known it? Many
have thought of their sins, for the first time in their
life, with any seriousness, in their afflictions; and
have said with the poet:Father! I bless thy gentle hand;
How kind was thy chastising rod,
That brought my conscience to a stand,
And brought my wandering soul to God.
Foolish and vain I went astray,
E're I had felt thy scourges, Lord;
I lost my guide and lost my way:
But now I love and keep thy word.'Tis good to me to wear the yolce,
For pride is apt to rise and swell;'Tis good to bear my Father's stroke,
That I might learn his statutes well.
If you have thought but little of sin till now, may
you begin to think upon it in your affliction.  You
have lost your husband, but how much greater a
calamity would be the loss of your soul; and lost it
must be, if you have no just sense of sin. There can
be no salvation without pardon; and no pardon with



INSTRUCTION.                 39
out repentance towards God, and faith in our Lord
Jesus Christ; and no repentance and faith, withtuut the knowledge of sin. Oh! what ar. unutterable
blessing will it prove; what a cause for adoring
wonder and gratitude through all time and eternity
too, if such affliction should prove to be the means of
your eternal salvation; and if the death of the dear
companion of your life should be overruled for the
salvation of your immortal soul. Happy will it be,
if led by this event to think of the sinfulness of your
heart and conduct in the sight of God, you should be
brought, in the character of a true penitent, and real
believer, to the foot of the cross. How will a sense
of divine pardon sooth your sorrows! How will God's
forgiving love comfort your soul! How sweetly will
you sing even while the tear of widowhood is glittering in your eye, and its sable costume is spread over
you, "It was good for me that I was afflicted."
2. Another lesson to be learnt by widowhood is
the vanity of the world, and its insufficiency to make
us happy. " Vanity of vanity, said the preacher; all
is vanity, and vexation of spirit." And you have
found it to be so. You have proved that the world,
if not an unsatisfying, is at any rate, an uncertain
portion. How joyous, till lately, were your circumstances. The purest happiness of an earthly nature
is that which springs up in a comfortable nome,
where there is a cordial union of hearts, as well as a
legal union of hands, between man and wife. The
tender sympathy, the delicate affection, the minute




40             INSTRUC T1. N.
attentions, the watchful solicitude, mle ceaseless
offices of conjugal love, are the sweetest ingredient in
the cup of life, and contribute a thousand times more
to terrestrial enjoyment, than all the possessions of
wealth, and all the blandishments of rank, station, and
fashion. "With the affection, and health, and company of my husband," exclaims the fond and devoted
wife, "I feel nothing wanting to my comfort, and can
easily dispense with many things that others consider
essential to their enjoyment." Such, perhaps, my
mourning reader, was once your happy lot, for such a
sharer of your domicile had you. Little cause had
you to envy the gay or the great; as little to sigh
for their access to the party or the rout. To welcome
at eventide, when the heat and burden of the day
were over, the good man of the house, to his own
fireside, and to your society, and to feel the honest
pride and satisfaction of a wife, that he needed no
other society to make him happy, this was your
nightly joy, for years that flew too fast. Perhaps you
thought too much had been said about the vanity of
the world, for it was a pleasant world to you, and
you were ready to blame the preacher, and call him
ascetic and misanthropic, and reproach him for disturbing the happiness of others by the wailings of his
ofi disappointed heart. But, ah! you too, have at
*ith returned an echo of that sad cry, and said in
lhe bitterness of your spirit, "All is vanity."  Yes,
tie lovely vision of your domestic bliss has vanished.
Death has intruded, and changid the scene.  No




INSTRUCTION.                41
more returns at the accustomed hour, the joy of your
heart and the light of your eyes. His chair is vacant. His place at the fire-side, which knew him
once, knows him no.more. He is not on a journey.
No: he is in the grave, and with him died the world
to you. Every thing is now changed; and you too
exclaim, "Oh, vain world, thou hast deceived me.
Are all thy flattering smiles, and ample promises,
come to this? In one hour I have fallen from the
heights of happiness, ito all the depths of woe.
And am I a widow? Yes, and a widow indeed."
Such then is the world: such all it can do to make
you happy. Hearken to the language of God, by the
prophet, "My people have committed two evils, they
have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, and
hewed them out cisterns, broken cisterns, that can
hold no water." There are the fragments of the
broken cisterns; there the spilled water; there the
memorials of fragile comfort, and disappointed hope;
-and there, hard by, let me add, the blessed contrast, the full and flowing fountain, sending out its
never failing streams of pure and living waters. The
world has deceived and forsaken you. Now turn
to God.'You cannot restore the broken cisterns nor
gather up the wasted contents: now turn to'the
fountain. You have settled your heart upon the
creature, and it has proved a quicksand; now settle'
it on God, "the rock of ages." You have leaned
upon an arm of flesh, and it has failed you; now
trust t) the arms of the Omnipotent Spirit. How
4*




42             JINSTR UC TOI O.
many, when the first shock of their disappointment
was over, and their faculties have recovered from the
stunning influence of their loss, have seen the folly
as well as sin, of trusting for happiness to mortal
man, and have turned their weeping, lonlging, and
imploring eye to the eternal God.
And even those who have been convinced before,
of the vanity of the world, at least by profession,
and have been taught to set their hearts on God,
have perhaps forgotten too much their principles and
their profession, and trusted for a larger share of theii
happiness than they ought to have done, to the
things that are seen and temporal. Yes, you who
are called the people of' God, and are such, we hope,
even you have trusted far more to the world, to the
life of your husband, and to your other possessions
for your soul's portion, than was your duty. An
earthly-mindedness has cre;;t over you and damped
the ardour of your religious affections. You have
sought the day-light of your soul from the smile of a
creature, instead of the light of God's countenance;
and now the lesser luminary is extinguished, and
you are in darkness.  Still, however, the greater
light remains; the Sun of Righteousness is shining
in all ifs splendour and noon-tide glory; go forth from
your gloomy and disconsolate situation into the brightness and warmth of his heart cheering radiance, and
sun yourself in the ardour of his beams.
3. What a lesson does widowhood teach of the
power and value of true religion: and that in two




INSTRU C TION.               43
ways. First by the influence of it, where it is possessed, in supporting the mind and consoling it,
amidst sorrows which from any other source, knows
not consolation's name. I appeal to devout and holy
women, who have been enabled in the hour of their
extremity to cast themselves by faith, and prayer,
and submission upon God, and to still the tumult of
their thoughts, and keep down the rising tide of their
grief, by the potency of his grace, whether the value
of piety ever rose so high in their esteem, as in that
moment when they first answered to the name of
widow, and they felt that they could do it without
fainting at the sound. Friends gathered round them
in all the tenderness of sympathy, and there was a
balm in their words, and looks, and actions; but at
the same time, each new comer seemed in other
respects to open their wounds afresh, and to be a
new remembrancer of the loss sustained. It was
only when the mourner could get to her Bible, and
to her God, in all the power of faith and prayer,. that
she felt she could be sustained; and then she did
feel it. Astonished at her own calmness; at her
tranquillity amidst such a wreck, she at first questioned whether it was indifference, stupefaction, or
religion. It could not be the first, for she was as
sure of her love, as she was sure of her existence;
nor the second, for she reasoned, reflected, and anticipated; it must therefore, she said, be the last; it
must be faith laying hold of the promise, and staying
itself in darkness upon the name of God. It must be




44            INSTRUCTION.
the power of God perfecting its might in weakness
the flowing in of grace into a soul, wh Ich grace has
first made willing and able to receive it. How wondrous must the faith of Abraham have appeared to
himself, when he came to reflect on what he had
done, or rather what the grace of God had wrought
in him, in his willingness to offer up Isaac. Inferior
to this, of course, but analogous to it, has been the
surprise of many an afflicted widow at the submission. and confidence with which she laid the ashes of
her husband in the sepulchre. What else could have
so sustained her, bereft as she was of what gave to
earth its chief interest? Let that religion still support
you. What it has done, it can do. It has proved to
yrou its reality and its power: still trust it as the
anchor of your soul, sure and stedfast. If it prevented
you from sinking, when the shock came first upon
you, it can do the same through every future stage of
your solitary journeying, and every future scene of
vour now unshared sorrow.
But perhaps your present situation demonstrates
the excellency of religion, by another medium of
proof, I mean by the want of it. You have not
religion to support you, and you have therefore literally nothing. The storm has come, and you are
without a shelter. The.cup of wormwood and gall
is put into your hand, and you have nothing with
which to sweeten it. Well then now, when erery
thing else fails, turn to this one and only refuge -hat
remains. It opens to you now. You feel that noth



INSTRUCTION.                 45
mg else is of any avail. It is not too late. God
waits to be gracious. Oh let me now sound in your
ears the music of our Lord's comfortable word.s
" Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy
laden, and I will give you rest.'  Oh mark that, the
heavy laden. No matter what may be the burden
whether of sin, or of care, or of sorrow, there is rest
from it in Christ. If you look to him by faith to take
away the burden of.your sin, he will lighten every
other load that presses upon your spirit. Jesus
Christ, the Saviour of the lost, is the comforter of the
distressed. He meets the natural cry of misery, and
goes out to wipe away the tears of sorrow, by the
hand of his redeeming mercy. He came to bind up
the broken-hearted, and to comfort those that mourn:
but it is in his own way. Many have come to him,
led as it seemed by the mere instinctive longing after
happiness, and have tried faith in the gospel as a last
and almost hopeless experiment, after the failure of
every other attempt to obtain consolation. And oh!
what an unlooked for discovery have they made;
they who had found no resting place in the world,
and who had wandered through it in quest of some
object however insignificant, that might divert them
firom their sorrows, and for a moment at least remove
the sense of that hopeless grief which lay dead upon
th'e heart, found now an object which the widest
desires of their soul could not grasp, and of such
irresistible power as to turn the current of their feelings, I mean the salvation which is in Christ Jesus,




46              INSTRUCTION.
with eternal glory. They who had been ready to
abandon life, as having no charm, and to embrace
death as having no greater terror than their present
affliction, now see that even in the absence of that
which once threw over their existence its deepest
interest, they can find something worth living for, in
the pursuit of an eternal joy. While in sorrow and
in desolation they went to Jesus for comfort, the
Spirit, whose secret, but unknown influence guided
their steps, opened the eyes of their understanding to
discern the path of life, and by the aid of a hope full
of immortality, to rise above the ravages of death, and
the spoliations of the grave. Thus while like Mary
Magdalene, they were lingering round the sepulchre,
the Saviour revealed himself to them, and they dried
up their tears in the presence of their Lord. May it
be so with those who shall read these pages. May
you in your affliction turn to religion, that grand
catholicon, and panacea, for the sorrows of life. You
do not know, even yet, how much you will need it,
in the future stages of your sad and solitary journey.
The friends whom the freshness of your grief has
gathered round you, may forget your loss much
sooner than you will; and the force of their sympathy
may have spent itself, long before the tide of your
grief has ceased to flow. Few, very few, are the
faithful friends whose tender interest is as long lived
and as deep as our tribulation. Sympathy wears out
long before that which calls it into existence: and
then, what can comfort you but religion? Venture




INST3UCTION                  47
not forward, without decided and fervent piety. Let
your next step be from the tomb of a husband, to the
cross of a Saviour.
Take the following instance as at once a direction
and an encouragement:
In the course of my pastoral walks among my
flock, I one day called upon a young widow, who
has become a member of the church under my care
since the death of her husband. I found her at her
mangle, by which, and by letting a room or two to
lodgers, she earns a scanty and precarious support
for herself and child. I found her somewhat indisposed, exhausted by labor, and depressed, though
not desponding, in consequence of her lodgings being
unoccupied, and her work rather short. I entered
into conversation with her on her necessitous and
afflictive circumstances, when she expressed her
strong confidence in God, and her expectation she
should be provided for. She soon reverted to her
husband, who had been a consistent member of my
flock. H-Ter eulogy upon his memory was in strong
and tender language. She described him as having
been one of the kindest and most indulgent of husbands, and implied that she had of course been a
happy wife:-" But," said she, " I can thank the Lord
for his death, for in conseTuence of that sad event, 1,row hope to be associated with him, in the presence o0
Christ in heaven."  The fact is, the death of hei
husband was the painful means, in the hands of the
Spirit, of her saving conversion to God  In this you




48             INSTRUCTION
see one instance among many in v hich widowhood
has been the furnace of affliction, where God has
chosen some of his people, and called them to pass
through the fiery trial to bring them to himself.
The female whose case I am now narrating, by the
piety she then obtained, and by the sweet hope of
meeting her deceased husband in the land where
there shall be no more death, endures with a sorrowful cheerfulness the desolation of widowhood and the
rigours of poverty.
What lessons does this little incident teach! What
a potency and a heavenly balm are there in true religion; what present and what future advantages
does it yield, when it can enable a poot widow, to
bow with her fatherless child at the grave of her departed husband, or in the dreary abode once made
happy by his presence and his love, and give God
thanks for his removal, because of the eternal felicity
that would result to both in heaven, from their early
separation upon earth!  What an admonition to
those who like this poor woman have lost pious
husbands, while they themselves are not yet partakers of true experimental piety. Let them consider the reasoning which is implied in her gratitude,
-" Had my husband lived, I should have been conte:lt with my happiness as a wife, and have sough
none from a higher source, and perhaps have lived
and died a stranger to true religion. Thus after en
joying his society a few years upon earth, I should
have been banished not only from his company but




INSTRUCTI )N.                49
from the presence of the Lord for ever: but now
since his death was sanctified for my conversion to
God, I have lost him for a season, to be with him for
ever in glory." 0 widow, whose husband has left
you as did hers, in an unconverted state, let it be
your desire, your prayer, your resolution to turn this
deep affliction to your soul's advantage. You have
lost his life; lose not only his death. He bends to
you from the skies, and with accents of faithful love,
says to you, " Follow me to heaven. Let us be not
s(eparated for ever.  Let faith, prayer, and submission, heal the wound of separation. 0 let us
meet in the blessed world of life and joy." Comply
with the admonition, and then you too will be able
to comprehend the thanksgiving of this poor woman
for the decease of a loving husband.
And now take the testimony of another widow
who related in the following language her sad, yet in
another view of it, her happy experience, to a minister who visited her:"My husband died, and then disease seized on my
children, and they were taken one by one. In the
course of a few years, I had lain those in whom my
heart was bound up, in the grave. Oh! they were
many, many bitter tears that I shed. The world
was dark. The very voice of consolation was a pain.
I could sit by the side of my friend, but could not
hear him speak of my departed ones. My affliction
was too deep to be shared. It seemed as if God
himself had deserted me. I was alone. The places
5




SO             INSTRUCTION.
at the table and the fire-side remained —but thev
who filled them were gone. Oh the loneliness, as ii
had been a tomb, of my chamber. How blessed was
sleep! For then the dead lived again. They were
all around me. My youngest child and last, sat on
my knee-she leaped up in my arms, she uttered
my name with infant joyousness; and that sweet
tone Was as if an angel had spoken to my sad soul.
But the dream vanished, and the dreary morning
broke, and I waked, and prayed, and I sought forgiveness, even while I uttered it for my unholy prayerprayed that God would let me lie down in the grave
side by side with my children and husband.
"But better thoughts came. In my grief I remembered that though my loved ones were separated
from me, the same Father-the same Infinite Love,
watched over them as when they were by my fireside. We were divided, but only for a season. And
by degrees, my grief grew calmer. But since then,
my thoughts have been more in that world, where
they have gone, than in this. I do not remember
less, but I look forward and upward more. I learned the worth of prayer and reliance. Would that I
could express to every mourner how the sting is
taken away from the grief of one, who with a true
and full heart puts her trust in God. I can never
again go into the gay world. The pleasures of this
world are 1no longer pleasures to me. But I have
trust, and hope, and confidence. I know that mN
Redeemer liveth. I know that God ever watches




INSTRUCTION.                  51
over his children And in my desolation, tnis faith
of heart has long enabled me to feel a different kind
of pleasure indeed, but a far deeper, though more
sober joy, than the pleasures of this world ever gave
me even when youth, and health, and friends all conspired to give them their keenest relish.
"' You have learned in your own heart,' I said,'that all trials are not evils.'
" It was with eyes up-turned to heaven, and gushing over with tears, not tears of sorrow, but gratitude, and with a radiant countenance, that she answered, in a tone so mild, so wrapt, as if her heart
were speaking to her God,-' It has been good for
me that I have been afflicted."'
4. What an impressive view does your affliction
give you of the solemnity of death, and the necessity
of being prepared for it. You have now not only
heard of the awful visitor, or read of him, but you
have seen him: and though his icy hand has not
been laid on you, it has taken from your side the
companion of your life. It is not a book, a sermon,
a preacher, but death himself that has spoken to you,
who, as he bore away the dear object of your affection, looked back unpityingly, and sternly said, "I
come for you soon." He will. Listen aiso to the
voice of one who with milder accents than those of
the last enemy, says to you, "Be ye also ready, for
at such an hour as ye think not, the Son of Man
cometh." Can you ever forget the scene? The
dread reality? The harbingers, the concomitants.




52             INSTRUCTION.
the consequences of dissolution?  The pain, the
sickness, the restlessness, the delirium, the torpor
-and then the mortal stillness which ten thousand thunders could not disturb? Oh what a change
is death! Is that the time, that the scene, those the
circumstances, to which it is wise and safe to defer
the business of religion, the concerns of the soul, the
pursuit of salvation? You saw how all but insupportable were the last woes of expiring nature; or
how sudden was the stroke; or how shattered was
the reason; and how impossible it was then to meditate on matters which require the concentrated attention, the calm undisturbed possession of all the
faculties of the soul. Learn then a lesson from that
scene never to be forgotten, and instantly to be practiced, of being prepared at once, and completely, for
the great change. You saw how valueless in death
is every thing but salvation, and how all but imnpossible it is to commence the momentous concern
then. Be wise then, and consider your own latter
end. Preparation for death is living work. A life
o~f faith, holiness, and devotion is the only preparation for a death-bed. Be this one of the beneficial
results of losing an object so dear. On his tomb,
devote yourself to the pursuit of salvation, as the
business of life, and the only suitable meetness for
death.
It is said with equal power and beauty by a well
known and des. rvedly admired living writer, "I consider the scenm  of death, as being to the interested




INSTR UCTII 5N.               53
Dartles, who witness it, a kind of saurantcrt, inconzeivably solemn, at which they are summoned by:he voice of heaven to pledge themselves in vows of
irreversible decision. Here then, as at the high altar
of eternity, you have been called to pronounce, if I
may so express it, the inviolable oath, to keep for
ever in view, the momentous value of life, and to aim
at its worthiest use, its sublime end-to spurn, with
lasting disdain, those foolish trifles, those frivolous
vanities, which so generally wither in our sight, and
consume life as the locusts did Egypt; and to devote
yourself with the ardour of passion, to attain the
most divine improvement of the human soul; and in
short, to hold yourself in preparation to make that
interesting transition to another life, whenever you
shall be clained by the Lord of the world."




54              CONSOLATION.
CHAPTER IV.
CONSOL ATIO N.
YES! consolation.. Yours, even yours is not a case
that excludes all comfort. There is balm for the
wounds of a widow's heart.
1. It may seem a strange and unlikely method of
comforting you, to remind you of happiness for ever
qed, and scenes of enjoyment that have vanished like
some bright vision; but is it not a comfort to retrace
the history of your union, and to remember that you
loved and were beloved; that you lived in harmony
and peace with your departed husband; that you had
his confidence and his heart, and he yours; that you
travelled pleasantly together in this desert world, and
made the journey a delightful one while it lasted?
You have nothing but holy and happy reminiscences.
Is not this better than the retrospect of an ill-assorted
match, and the scenes of discord and strife which
such unions bring with them? His picture, his chair,
his dear name, if they form the most sorrowful, yet,
at the same time, do they awaken the most sacred
associations. His image, as it rises in the region of
imagination, is no sullen spectre, cold, frowning, and




CONSOLATION.                 55
perturbed, and that looks upon you as if to upbraid
you for the past; but it is a blessed shade, smiling,
complacent, and calm, that still beams with the same
affection with which it was wont to do: and you feel
as if you had nothing to offer in the way of apology
or atonement, for the purpose of propitiating and
tranquillizing it. You still feel in mysterious and
happy fellowship, though separated by the wide deep
gulph of the grave. Extract comfort, then, from your
very tears, for love has left a drop even in tMlem. You
were happy, and that should prevent you being
-retched now: you were his comfort on earth, and
assisted him on his pilgrimage to heaven; awhere,
perhaps, he is now think'ing of you before the throne,
and finding a place for your name in the song of his
e6atitude before the fountain of mercy.
2. Perhaps you were permitted to be with him in
his mortal sickness, and to minister to his comfort, as
long as he needed it and was capable of understandingyour mrniistrations. " I am glad I am not a kingt,"
said a dying ilusband to an affectionate and devoted
wrife, who never left him night or day, till his spirit
forsook its clay: " for then," continued he, " I should
not be waited upon by you."  How tender and how
soothing are the attentions of a wife at all times; but
oh what are they not in the chamber of' sickness and
death. Men who set little value on the kind offices
of their wifes in the time of health and activity, have
)een glad to have them at their I. ed-side, in the season) of disease, and at the last hour but how doubly




56              CONSOLATION.
precious are such offices in death, to those who loved
their wives, and prized their attentions in life. Such,
afflicted woman, was, perhaps, your case. You were
his constant attendant. You waited, watched and
latloured, to the uttermost of your strength, to smooth
the pillow of sickness, and the bed of death. The
food, and the medicine were always most welcome
from vour gentle hand; he forgot his pains in your
presence; and it was some mitigation of her sorrows,
while as his ministering angel you occupied the post
of observation, darker every hour, that you saw how
much you contributed to his comfort. You heard the
words of love and gratitude that fell from the sufferer's lips; you saw the looks and tears which spoke
what words were too weak to utter; and taxed your
energies almost boyond what nature could supply, to
meet the necessities of one whose flickering lamp
seemed to be kept from extinction, by your vigilance
and tenderness.
Well, it is all over now. Affection has done its
last, as well as its best, and its uttermost. Is it not
consoling to you to think of all this?-Especially if
you were enabled to minister to the comfort of the
soul, as well as to the body, and by words of scripture
promise, to drive away the gloomy thoughts and
disturbing fears which lighted upon his spirit as he
approached the dark valley. Perhaps it was reserved
for that solemn hour, for your dying husband to
disclose to you the state of his soul. and to express to
your more entire satisfaction. than you had felt before,




CONSOLATi N.                  57
his sense of sn, his faith in Christ, and his hope of
glory. HIow beautifully is this described in the life
of Mrs. Graham, of New York. "iHe brought me,
and my idol," says that excellent woman, "out of a
barren land, placed us under the brcath of prayer,
among a dear liitle society of methodists; he laid us
upon their spirits, and when the messenger, death,
was sent for my beloved, the breath of prayer ascended from his bedside, from their little meeting; and I
believe from their families and closets. The God of
mercy prepared their hearts to pray, and his ear to
hear, and the answers did not tarry.  Behold, my
hnsband prayeth; confesses sin; applies to the
Saviour; pleads for forgiveness for his sake; receives
comfort; blesses God for Jesus Christ, and dies with
these words upon his tongue,'I hold fast by the
Saviour.' Behold another wonder! the idolatress in
an ecstasy of joy. She who never could realise a
separation for one single minute during his life, now
resigns her heart's treasure, with praise and thanks.
giving.  0 the joy of that hour! its savour remains
in my heart to this moment. For five days and
nights, I had been little off my knees, it was my
ordinary posture at his bed-side, and in all that time,
I had but once requested his life. The Spirit helped
mly infirmities with groanings that could not be
uttered, leading me to pray for that which God had
determined to bestow; making intercession for my
husband according to the will of God.'
3. And this is intimately connected with anotlhe




58             CONSOLATION.
source of cons Ilation, I mean the consideration of the
happiness of your departed sainted husband, where
indeed there is satisfactory ground to believe he died
in the Lord. "l How does the reflection," says Mrs.
Huntingdon, after she became a widow, "that our
departed friends have reached the point which we
mnust reach before we can be happy, sweeten and
soothe the anguish of separation! Let us contemplate
them in every supposable view, and the prospect is
full of consolation.  We cannot think of them as
what they were, or what they are, without pleasure.
They are the highly fhvoured of the Lord, who,
having finished all that they had to do in this vale of
tears, are admitted to the higher services of the upper
temple. True, when we look at our loss, nature will
feel."  Be it so, that you are sorrowful, it is not, as
regards your husband, a sorrow without hope. You
have no grief on his account. Time was when you
wept for lim: you saw him burdened with care;
exhausted by labour; perplexed with difficulties;
sometimes humbled by a sense of his imperfections;
and in his closing scenes, pale with sickness, racked
with pain, till the tears glistened in his eye, and the
groan escaped his breast; but he will suffer no more;
the days of his mourning are ended; and he is floating
on a fullness of joy in God's presence, and surrounded
with pleasures for evermore at his right hand. Strive
then so far to rise above your grief, as to rejoice with
him, though he cannot weep with you You loved
and tried to make him I appy upon earth, and smilet.




CONSOLA rION                   59
when you in any measure succEedec, take some
comfort in the thought that God has made him happy
in heaven. Think L'him not as in the grave, but as
iln glory. Say in the language of that beautiful
epitaph,
Forgive, blest shade! the tributary tear,
That Inourns thy exit from a world like this,
Forgive the wish, that would have kept thee here,
And stayed thy progress to the seats of bliss.
No more confin'd to grovelling scenes of night,
No more a tenant pent in mortal clay)
Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight,
And trace thy journey to the realms of day.
But perhaps. in all this, I do but lacerate some
widows' heart iren-ady wounded, by the fear, their
husbands' spirits aie not in heaven. Then turn from
the subject in deep and silent submission. Confide
in the equity of God. Rely upon his unerring wisdom.
If you cannot reflect with comfort, and hope, endeavour not to reflect at all. Say, " shall not the judge
of all the earth do right?" If this source of consolation be closed, turn to the others, and they are many.
4. Recollect that God lives.  "He lives, said the
Psalmist, " and blessed be my rock, and let the God
of my salvation be exalted." God lives! What a
compass of thought and of consolation is there in that
one expression: and akin to it is the language of
Christ, to the beloved apostle in the isle of Patmos,
"Behold, I am alive for evermore." Die who will,
Christ lives.  How often is he called in scripture,




60              CONSOLATION.
" the living God;" it is one of his most frequently
repeated titles; and dwelling as we do, amidst the
tombs, it is one of his most comforting, as well as
one of his most sublime and impressive ones, especially to those who have been called to sustain the
loss of friends by death. Thus we find there is a title,
and attribute, and view, and operation of God, suited
to all the varieties of our circumstances, our wants,
our woes, and our fears. There is bounty for our
wants; mercy for our sins and miseries; patience for
our provocations; power for our weakness; truth for
our fears; wisdom  for our ignorance; immutability
for our vicissitudes; and because our friends are
dying, and we also are following them to the grave,
he is presented to us as the living God. And as he
lives, all that belongs to him lives with him. His
attributes neither change nor die. Just look at one
view of his nature and conduct as given by the apostle: " The God of all comfort."-2 Cor. i. 3." Beautiful representation! And akin to it is that other,
" God that comforteth those that are cast down."2 Cor. vii. 7. What ideas are contained in these two
aspects of God. They seem to tell us that not only
is all comfort in him, and from him, and for all people who are willing to be comforted; not only that
his consolations are such as by way of eminence and
excellence, deserve to be called comfort, almost
exclusively; but also that he is in his nature all
comfort to his people, and in his dealings always
comforting them His nature is one vast fountain of




CONSOLATION.                 61
consolation, and his operations, so many streams
flowing from it. Now this God lives; lives to comfort you. Your earthly comforter is gone; but your
heavenly one remains. Is there not enough in his
power to protect and support you; in his wisdom to
guide you; in his all sufficiency to provide for you;
in his goodness to pity you; in his love to supply
you; in his presence to cheer you? In your troubled
and broken condition of mind, you need subjects of
consolation which are not only sufficient in themselves, but which can be simply expressed and easily
apprehended, without any long train of thought, or
elaboration of argument. Here then is one, containing all comforts in one, " God lives." Seize the simple yet wondrous conception; take it home to your
afflicted bosom; apply it to your forlorn and desolate
spirit; repeat it to yourself; and by the power of it
drive away unbelief, distrust, and all the crowd of
dark, desponding thoughts, which hover like foul
birds of night over the desolate heart, there to nestle,
and utter their moaning voices. Learn from a little
child who seeing her widowed mother in weeds and
in tears, asked the question, " Is God Almighty dead,
mamma?"
5. The Lord Jesus Christ in all his mediatorial
offices, all his redeeming grace, all his tender sympathy, and all the blessings of his salvation, still remains. "Fear not," said he to John, in language already quoted, "I am the first and the last. I am he
that liveth, and was dead; and behold I am alive
6




52             CONSOLATION.
for evermore, and have the keys of hell, (the unseen
world) and of death."-Rev. i. 19.  Oh there is
enough in these sublime words to support and comfort all the widows that are at this moment, or ever
will be upon earth. Here they are not only told,
that the Redeemer has exclusive dominion over death
and the invisible world, so that none ever turns, or
holds the key but himself, but also that he lives in
all the plenitude of his power and grace to comfort
those who survive. All that there is in the incarnation and death of Christ as the Saviour of a lost
and ruined world; in his resurrection from the grave;
in his ascension into heaven, and intercession at the
right hand of the Father; in his universal government of the world; in the promise, the purpose, and
the hope of his second coming; in the assurance that
he is now in the midst of his chu-rch, and will never
leave it; in the distant prospect of the millennial days
when his glory shall cover all lands; —all this remains to console the hearts of his mourning people
in their sorrows upon earth, and connected with all
this, are the blessings that result from his mediatorial work, the pardon of all our sins, the justification of our persons, the sanctification of our nature,
adoption, perseverance; —in short a perfect salvation.
And is there one who can think so little of these
things as to find in them no adequate consolation in
the hour and scene of her woe! Oh believer, is
there not enough in all this, to save you from faint.
ing?  Bereaved woman, shall your sorrows at the




CONSOLATION.                  63
grave of the most affectionate husband that a wife
ever had, or ever lost, weigh down the cross, the
atonement, the righteousness, the sympathy, the
grace of Christ? He is still the same as to compassion, as he was when upon earth. Those eyes
hat wept at the grave of Lazurus, look on you;
that bosom that groaned over the sorrows of Martha
and Mary, cherishes you. He that pitied the widow
of Nain, pities you. "In all your affliction, he is
afflicted, and the angel of his presence is with you.'
In all his unsearchable riches of grace, in his promises
of truth, and in his invitations he is with you, and
has said, "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.
Not a promise died, when your husband did; not a
fruit of grace, or an earnest of glory wllithered when
he departed. Not a single gospel consolation lies
entombed in his sepulchre. The cup of your earthly
prosperity may be emptied, but not a drop is lost
from the cup of salvation. Death has deprived you
of your temporal enjoyment, but your eternal salvation in Christ still relains. You are called to
bear your cross, but look up, there is Christ bearing,
and borne by, his also. In one sense your husband
sleeps in the tomb of Jesus; for we " are dead and
buried with him." Wherefore comfort yourself with
these thoughts.
5. God has in a most especial manner interested himself on behalf of widows, and their fatherless children.
Just see how he has literally crowded the page of
inspiration, with declarations concerning them. He




64             CONSOLATION.
has revealed himself in a very especia. manner as
the widow's God.
Observe how he has fenced in their interests and
protected them from injury. " Ye shall not afflict
any widow  or fatherelss child."-Exod. xxii. 22.
"Thou shalt not take the widow's garment to
plede."-Deut. xxiv. 17. " Cursed be he that perverteth the judgment of the fatherless and the widow."
-Deut. xxix. 19. "Judge the fatherless, plead for
the widow."-Isaiah i. 17. " If ye oppress the fatherless and the widow, then will I cause you to dwell
in this place."-Jer. iii. 6. " Oppress not the widow,
nor the fatherless."-Zech. vii. 10.'"In this have
they vexed the widow."-Ezek. xxii. 7.
Observe next the injunctions delivered not even to
neglect the widow. "And the fatherless and the
widow which are within thy gates, shall come, and
shall eat, and shall be satisfied, that the Lord thy
God may bless thee in all the work of thy hand, that
thou doest."-Deut. xiv. 29.  "When thou hast
made an end of tithing all the tithes of thine increase
the third year, which is the year of tithing, and hast
given it unto the Levite, the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow, that they may eat within thy
gates, and be filled; then thou shalt say before the
Lord thy God, I have brought away the hallowed
things out of mine house, and also have given them
into the Levite, and unto the stranger, to the fatherless, and to the widow, according to all the cominandments whicl thou hast commanded me: I have




CONSOLATION.                 65
not transgressed thy commandments, neither have I
forgotten them." —reut. xxvi. 12, 13.
Then dwell upon those passages in which kind.
ness to widows is spoken of by men, or by God himself. "I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy."
-Job xxvi. 13. In opposition to which he gives it
as the mark of the wicked; " They drive away the
ass of the fatherless, and take the widow's ox for a
pledge."-Job xxiv. 3. "The Lord will establish
the border of the widow."-Prov. xv. 25. " A judge
of the fatherless and widows is God in his holy
habitation."-Psalm lxix. 5. "Leave thy fatherless
children, I will preserve them alive, and let thy
widows trust in me." —Jer. xlix. 11. "' Pure religion
and undefiled before God and the Father is this,-tc
visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction."James i. 27.
What widow is there who in casting her eye over
such passages as these, but must be comforted in
thus witnessing the deep interest God takes in her
forlorn condition, when he has not only promised her
what he will do himself, but commanded in every
variety of form and expression all others to sympathise with her, and actually to befriend her. She
may surely say:Poor though I am, despised, forgot,
Yet God, my God! forsakes me not.
Whoever is passed over by Jehovah, the widow re,
ceives his special notice.
60




66             CONSOLATION,
6. Perhaps 3ycu have still many friends left; foi
It is rarely the case that a widow has none, either
on her own side, or on that of her late husband.
There is something in your case that calls forth
sympathy. Your very dress with silent but expressive signs, seems to say, "M By husband is in his
grave, pity me." Hearts not easily moved have relented, and eyes unaccustomed to weep have shed
tears, at the recital of your loss. Low as human
nature has sunk by our apostacy from God, it has
not lost all that is kind and amiable towards our
fellow-creatures, and in the exercise of this kindness, many are predisposed to be the friends of the
widow. Do not refuise their friendship. Open your
hearts and let them pour in the balm of sympathy.
Do not discourage them in their efforts to interest
or please, nor undervalue them. The sun of your
bright day has set, and it is night: but do not
despise the lunar beams, nor even the twinkling of
a few scattered stars: even this is better than ravless gloom. Some, I admit there are, who in losing
husband, lose almost every friend they have on
earth. Let them think of the friend, who is all
friends in one, I mean, the widow's God.
7. Is there not upon record such an assurance as
this, "All things work together for good to them that
love God, to them that are the called according to
his promise." —Rom. viii. 2S. The consolation I
know is limited to a particular class of persons,' to
them that love God and are called according to his




CONSO ATION.                  67
purpose," and none have a right to appropriate the
the comfort, but they who answer to the character.
To none else call good come out of evil: for none else
is God preparing a happy result of all their troubles;
for none else are his mighty and glorious attributes
of wisdom and power weaving the dark threads of
their history into a texture of felicity, and a garment
of praise. But then all are invited, and may instantly
accept the invitation, to come within the comprehension of this circle of good, by coming through faith
into the love of God. To those who are already
there, how inexpressibly consoling, if they have faith
to receive it, is the assurance, that there is good to
be extracted for the widow, from her tears. Observe
it is good, not ease: concealed, not apparent good;
future, not present good. What an illustration of
this passage of scripture is the history of the patriarch
Joseph. Sorrow upon sorrow settled on the heart of
his venerable father, as one bad report of his children
after another fell upon his ear, till in the agony of
his spirit he exclaimed, " All these things are against
me." And judging by appearances, he was right.
Appearances, however were fallacious. Jacob could
not see to the end, and he who cannot, should not
pronounce what the end will be. All things were at
the time working together for good, though it was
impossible for him to conjecture in what way. Equally
impossible is it for you to see, or even to imagine, nor
do I pretend to foretel, in what way good can rise to
you from  a husband's grave. All your brightest




68              CONSOLATION.
prospects have vanished; all your springs of earthly
consolation are dried up; your support and that of
your children, is cut off; in such an event,reason can
see nothing but unmixed evil for the present, and
portents of woe for the future; and it really seems
like a mockery of your woe to tell you, it will work
for your good. But is it not promised? If so, it must
be fulfilled, though in a way unknown to us. Suppose any one had gone to the venerable patriarch
when he was weeping, first for Joseph, and then for
Benjamin, and uttered this astonishing language in
his hearing, "All is working for your good;" would
he not have looked up, and with a reproving voice,
said, "Do you come to mock me?" Yet he lived to
see that it was so. If God says it is good, it must be
so, for he can make it good. It may not be good for
your temporal comfort, but it may be for your eternal
welfare; and if not for yours, it may be for your
children's; if not for theirs, it may have been for your
husband's. You may never see how it is for good in
this world. Many go all their lives without having
the mystic characters of the event decyphered, and
the secret workings of God's love laid open; they die
in ignorance of his plans, though not of his purposes.
So it may be with you. The right side of the embroidery may never be turned to you here, and looking only at the tangled threads and dark colours of
the back part, all now appears confusion; but when
the front view shall be seen, and the design of tile
divine artist, and all the connexions of the piece shall




CONSOLATION.                69
be pointed out, and the colouring shall be shown in
the light of heaven, with what adoring wonder,
delight, and gratitude will you exclaim, as the whole
bursts upon your sight, " O the depth of the riches of
the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out.
All things have worked together for my good."
8. Recollect the admonition of the apostle; " This
I say, brethren, the time is short: it remaineth, that
both they that have wives, be as though they had
none; and they that weep, as though they wept not;
and they that rejoice, as though they rejoiced not;
and they that use the world, as not abusing it; for
the fashion of this world passeth away."-1 Cor. vii.
29-31. Time is short.  Solemn expression! The
death of the worldling's joy; but the solace of the
christian's sorrows. Widow, you cannot weep long,
even though you go weeping to your grave. The
days of your mourning are numbered, and must end
soon. The vale of tears is not interminable. Yot
are passing through it; and will soon pass out of it.
Be patient, the coming of the Lord draweth nigh.
Eternity is at hand, through the everlasting ages of
which you will weep no more, for God shall wipe
away all tears from the eyes of his people. In hell
sinners -weep for ever; in heaven saints never weep.
9. And then what felicity awaits you on that
blessed shore, on which your departed husband
stands looking back wonderingly on the dark waters
of the river he has passed, and beckoning you away




70               CONS OLATION.
to the realms of immortality.  You will soon foillow
to the regions of which it is said, " there will be un
nore death."  Heaven is a world of life, eternal life,
never to be interrupted by the entrance, or even the
fear of death; and this is before you. They who are
united by the bonds of christian, as well as conjugal
love, do not lose one another in the dark valley never
to meet in the world of immortals.  They drop the
fleshly bond in the grave, and all that appertained to
it, but not the spiritual tie that makes them one in
Christ. United in the honors and felicities of that
blessed world, where all are blessed perfectly, and
for ever, you shall receive together the answer of
those prayers you presented upon earth; realise the
anticipations you indulged while travelling across the
desert of mortality; trace together the providential
events of your earthly history; learn why you were
united, and why separated; see the wisdom and
goodness of those events, which once appeared so
dark, and drew so many tears from your eyes; indulge
in reminiscences, all of which will furnish new occasions of wonder, new motives to praise, and new
sources of delight; point one another to the vista of
everlasting ages opening before you, through which
an endless succession of joys are advancing to meet
you; and then, filled with a pure, unearthly love for
each other, fall down before the throne of the Lamb,
and feel every other affection absorbed in supreme,
adoring love to him. Such a scene is before you;
and if it be, then bear your sorrows, afflicted woman,




CONSOLATION.                  71
for in what felicities are they to issue, and how
soon!
But, perhap j, I should help to comfort the mourner,
if, in addition to those gracious promises and directions which are specially appropriate to the case of
widows, and which have been already presented to
your notice, I lay before you a selection of passages
of scripture, which are applicable to all persons in
trouble. What words may be expected to have such
power over the sorrowful heart, as those of God.
Many of these have been already quoted, but there
may be an advantage in bringing them all together in
one view before the mind.
GOD'S END IN AFFLICTING.
For thou, oh God, hast proved us: thou hast tried
us, as silver is tried.-Psalm lxvi. 10.
Furthermore we have had fathers of our flesh
which corrected us, and we gave them reverence:
shall we not much rather be in subjection unto the
Father of spirits, and live? For they verily for a few
days chastened us after their own. pleasure; but he'or our profit, that we might be partakers of his
holiness.-Heb. xii. 9, 10.
GODIS JUSTICE AND FAITHFULNESS IN OUR TRIALS.
Righteous art thou, 0 Lord, when I plead with
thee.-Jer. xii. 1.
He hath not dealt with us after our sins, nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.-Psalm ciii. 10.




72              C ONSOLAT ION.
It is of the Lord's mercies we are not consumed.Lam. iii. 22.
Wherefore doth a living man complain, a man for
the punishment of his sins?-Lam. iii. 39.
I will bear the indignation of the Lord, because I
have sinned against him.-Micah vii. 9.
I know, 0 Lord, that in faithfulness thou hast
afflicted me. Psalm cxix. 75.
GODrS LOVE IN AFFLICTING US.
My son, despise not thou the chastening of the
Lord; neither be weary of his correction: for whom
the Lord loveth he correcteth, even as a father doth
the son, in whom he delighteth. —Prov. iii. 11, 12.
For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and
scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. —Heb.
xii. 6.
As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten.-Rev. iii.
19.
GOD A COMFORTER.
The God of all comfort, who comforteth us in all
our tribulation.-2 Cor. i. 3.
God that comforteth those that are cast down.-2
Cor vii. 6.
GOD A REFUGE.
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help
in time of trouble. The Lord of Hosts is with us. the
God of Jacob is our refuge.- Psalm xlvi. 1.




CONSOLA TION.                73
GOD'S PRESENCE WITH US IN THE DEEPEST TRIBULATION.
When thou passest through the waters I will be
w.th thee; and through the rivers they shall not
overflow thee; when thou walkest through the fire,
thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the flame
kindle upon thee. —Isaiah xliii. 2.
GOD'S EYE UPON HIS PEOPLE IN SORROW.
He knoweth the way that I take, when he has
tried me I shall come forth as gold.-Job xxiii. 10.
GOD CANNOT FORGET ItIS PEOPLE.
Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she
should not have compassion on the son of her womb?
Yea, she may forget, yet will I not forget thee. —
Isaiah xlix. 15.
TRUST IN GOD ENJOINED, ENCOURAGED, AND EXEMPLIFIED.
And they that know thy name, will put their trust
in thee, for thou hast not forsaken them that seek
thee. -Psalm ix. 10.
And now Lord, what wait I for, my hope is m
thee.-Psalm xxxix. 7.
Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind
is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee. Trust
ye in the Lord for ever; for in the Lord Jehovah is
everlasting strength.-Isaiah xxvi. 3-4.
Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.Job) Xiii. 15.
7l




74             CONSOLATION.
CONSC-ATORY ASSURANCES.
Afflictlon cometh not forth of the dust, neithe'
doth trouble spring out of the ground.-Job v. 6.
They that seek the Lord shall not want any good
thing. —Psalm xxxiv. 10.
Trust in the Lord and do good, so shalt thou
dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.Psalm xxxvii. 3.
I have been young, and now am  olc. yet have I
not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging
bread.-Psalm xxxvii. 25.
I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. —Heb.
xiii.. 
Therefore take no thought for the morrow; for
the morrow shall take thought for itself: sufficient'ulto the day is the evil thereof.-Mat. vi. 34.
In all their afflictions he is afflicted. -Isaiah
Ixiii. 9.
In that he himself hath suffered, being tempted,
he is able to succour them  that are tempted.HIeb. ii. 18.
THIE SHORT DURATION OF OUR TRIALS.
Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh
in the morning. —Psalm xxx. 5.
They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. —
Psalm cxxvi. 5.
Wherein ye greatly rejoice though now for a




CONSOLATION.                 75
season, if need be, ye are in heaviness, through
manifold temptations.-1 Peter i. 6.
But this I say, the time is short-let those that
weep be as though they wept not.-1 Cor. vii. 30.
The sufferings of this present time are not worthy
to be compared with the glory to be revealed in
us.-Romans viii. 18.
Our light affliction which is but for a moment,
worketh out for us a far more exceeding and eternal
weight of glory.-2 Cor. iv. 17.
ENCOURAGEMENTS TO CAST OURSELVES AND OUR BURDENS
UPON THE LORD.
Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver
thee, and thou shalt glorify me.-Psalm 1. 15.
Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee: he shall never suffer the righteous to be
moved.-Psalm lv. 22.
DIRECTIONS AND EXAMPLFS HOW TO BEHAVE IN TROUBLE.
And Aaron held his pleace.-Lev. x. 3.
It is the Lord: let him  do what seemeth him
good.-1 Sam. iii. 18.
In all this Job sinned not, nor charged God foolishly.-Job i. 22.
What! shall we receive good at the hand of God,
and not receive evil?-Job ii. 10.
Surely it is meet to say unto God, I have borne
chastisement, I will not offend any more. - Job
xxxiv. 31.




76             CONSQLATION.
I was du nb, I opened not my mouth, because
Thou didst it.-Psalm xxxix. 9.
Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from
me: nevertheless, not my will but thine be done.Luke xxii. 42.
My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into
divers temptations. Let patience have her perfect
work.-James i. 3, 4.
BENEFICIAL RESULT OF AFFLICTION.
It is good for me that I have been afflicted: before I was afflicted I went astray; but now I have
kept thy word.-Psalm cxix. 67, 71.
And I will bring the third part through the fire
and will refine them as silver is refined, and will
try them as gold is tried; they shall call on my
name, and I will hear them: I will say it is my
people: and they shall say, the Lord is my God.Zech. xiii. 9.
We glory in tribulation also; knowing that tribulation worketh patience, and patience, experience;
and experience, hope; and hope maketh not ashamed, because the love of God is shed abroad in out
hearts, by the Holy Ghost which is given us. —
Rom. v. 3-5.
END OF ALL OUR AFFLICTIONS.
There are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them




c ONSOLATION.                77
white in the'blood of the Lamb. Therefore are
they before they throne of God, and serve him day
and night in his temple: and he that sltteth on the
throne shall dwell among them. They shall hunger
no more, aeither thirst any more; neither shall the
sun light on them nor any heat.' For the Lamb
that 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 eves.
-Rev. vii. 14 -17.
In thy presence is fullness of joy; at thy right
hand are pleasures for evermore.-Psalm xvi. 11.
Daughter of sorrow, these are the words of God:
and they are tried words. Millions now in glory,
and myriads more on the way to it, have tried them
in the dark hour of their affliction, and have found
them  a cordial to their fainting spirits.  "Unless
thy word had supported me," they have each said,
"I had perished in my affliction."  That word did
support them, and though the torrent was roaring
and rushing furiously, kept them buoyant upon its
surface, when they otherwise must have sunk. A
single text has in some instances saved the despairing soul from destruction. Read this selected list;
what variety of representation, what kindness and
compassion of sentiment, what tenderness of language, what beauty in the figures, what force in the
allusions, what appropriateness in the epithets,
what comprehension in the descriptions! Whose
case is omitted? Whose circumstances are un
70




78             CONSOLATION.
touched? Whose sorrows are unnoticed?  Remember, I say again, this is the consolation of
God. It is Jehovah coming to you, and saying to
you, "Woman, why weepest thou? Is not all thi"
enough to comfort you?  Close not thine heart
against such consolations as these. Be still, ana
know that I am God."




CONFIDENCE   N GOD.                9
CHAPTER V.
CONFIDENCE  IN  GOD.
PERHAPS, as I have already supposed, in addition
to the deep affliction of ycilr being left a widow,
you are left also in circumstances every way calculated to aggravate this already heavy woe. To
lose your husband is of itself a cup of sorrow requiring nothing to fill it to overflowing, and embitter it with wormwood, except to have a young
dependent family, and no provision for their support,
or their settlement in the world. 0! for that woman to be plunged into all the anxieties of business,
all the fear of destitution, who never knew a care.
or tasted of solicitude; for such an one, unskilled in
trade, unused to labour, to have own maintenance
and that of her children to earn! To sit day after
day, amidst her little fatherless circle, and witness
their unconsciousness of their loss; to hear them
ask why she weeps; to' have her heart lacerated
by questions about their father; to sit in silent solitary grief when their voices are all hushed at night,
except that which issues from the cradle; to be followed t a sleepless pillow, and to be kept waking




80          CONFII ENCE IN GOD.
tnrough the live-long night, by recollections of de
parted joys, and fears of future want! Alh my
afflicted friend, I pity you. May God support and
comfort you.
Permit me to whisper in your ear, and direct to
your troubled spirit,:he passage I have already
quoted, "LET THY WIDOWs TRUSI IN DIE; for a
judge. of the fatherless and the widow is God in
his holy habitation."  Do consider who it is that says
this. It is the omnipotent, all-sufficient God. It is
he who has afflicted you, who says this. He authorises, he invites, he enjoins your confidence.. But
what do I mean by confidence? An expectation
that he will provide for you: an expectation,
which if it does not bring you to strong consolation,
is sufficient, at any rate, to controul the violence
of your grief, to check the hopelessness of your sorrows, and save you from despair: an expectation
which shall prevent all your energies from being
paralysed, and keep you from sitting down amidst
your little helpless family, and abandoning all for
lost; an expectation which leads you to say, " I do
not see how or whence help is to come, but I believe
it will come. I am utterly at a loss to conceive how
I shall be able to work my way, or provide for these
fatherless children, but God has encouraged me to
confide in him, and he is omnipotent. I know not
whence to look for friends, but the hearts of all
men are in his hands, and he can turn some towards me in acts of kindness."  This is confidence;




CONFIDENCE IN GOD.              81
thls is trust in God. Is it necessary for me here to
mention the grounds of trust? They are at hand
in great number and force.
1. Dwell upon the innumerable exhortations to
this duty, as appertaining to all states of sorrow
and difficulty, which are to be found in the Word of
God. Scarcely one word occurs more frequently in
the Old Testament than the word, " TRUST; nor one
in the New, more frequently than "FAITH," They
stand intimately related for indeed, if not identical
in meaning, they are nearly so. Trust in the God
of providence means faith in him; and faith in
Christ, means trust in him.  How  sweetly does
one sacred writer after another catch up the word
"TRUsT," and roll it in innumerable echoes along the
whole line of revelation. How repeatedly does the.ound come from the lips of God himself " TRUST"
an me. How often do we hear the troubled and
destitute saint reply, "In thee do I put my trust."
How often do the inspired penmen, after disclosing
the glories of the divine character, and the infinite
attributes of Jehovah, finish their description by such
an admonition as this, "] Yut your trust in the Lord.'
Dwell on the power of God, and cannot he sustain
vou and your children?  In casting yourselves on
his boundless sufficiency, his infinite and inexhaustible resources, you do not obtrude or presume upon
him; he invites, yea, commands your confidence.
You do not lay down your burden on his arm unauthorised; he stretches o It his arm and says,




82          CONF DE XCE IN GOD.
"Roll thy burden here, and I will sustain it. He
asks, he promises to take care of you. Trust him
then. But you have nothing, you think, but his bare
promise. Not a friend to whom you can look; not
an index to point out in what way even his assistance is to come. Then you have the more need,
and I was almost going to add, more warrant to
trust hini.  Then is the.time for faith in God's
word, when you have nothing to look for from man:
then is the time to trust in the promise, when you
have nothing else but the promise to trust to. It is
not possible to conceive of one act of the human
mind that more honours God, or more pleases him,
than that simple trust which is exercised in the absence of every thing else, as a ground of confidence,
but the word of God. A widow, with a little circle
of dependent children, with no present provision,
and no assured prospect of provision, who yet exercises confidence in God, and believes she shall in
some way or other be taken care of, is in a stateof
mind, certainly, as acceptable to God, as any in
which a human being can be founed, and perhaps
even more so.
2. Meditate much upon the special promises and
gracious intimations which are made to your own
particular and afflictive case. Go over the passages
which I have already quoted: turn back to them
again: read them repeatedly, till you are enabled
to feel their full force. They are God's own words
to widows: the language of the divine infinite Comn



CONFIDENCE IN GOD.              83
forter, to the most afflicted class in all the school of
sorrow; and ought they not to be received as such.
with all the faith and trust that are due to an infallible being?  Can he have invited the widow's
saddened heart to words of consolation, only to mock
its sadness? Can he have attracted her confidence
by language specially addressed to her, only to leave
her forsaken and abandoned?  This would not be
human mercy, much less diriine. Difficult, then, as
it may be, and must be, amidst broken cisterns, failing springs,' exhausted resources, and with no prospect, or even indication, big as a man's hand of the
coming blessing on the distant horizon, to trust in
God, endeavour, dejected woman, to do so. Like
Hagar in the wilderness, you may be near the deliverer, when you know it not. An invisible comforter is near, and the provider may be coming, though
unseen. Trust, 0 trust, and be not afraid. Endeavoun to hush thy fears to rest, under the music and the
charm of that one word, " Trust in the Lord, so shalt
thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed."
3. Another encouragement to trust, is the testimony of those who have observed the ways of
Providence, and the care which it has exercised over
widows. It has grown into a kind of current adage,
"Thatwhomsoever may seem to be overlooked by
Providence, God takes especial care of widows and
orphans." Who has not heard this expression, and
who has not seen its verification in instances that
have come under his own observation? Who could




84          CONFIDENCE IN GOD.
not mention the names of some whom ue has seen
extraordinarily provided for in their necessitous and
seemingly helpless, hopeless widowhood?  It has
so often been my lot to see this gracious interposition
of Providence, that I scarcely ever despond over the
case of a widow; and the more necessitous and
hopeless, so far as human succour is concerned, the
more confident do I feel of divine interference.
Thus true it is, that he who removes the armnn of
flesh that sustained the wife, lends his own arm of
spirit and power to sustain the widow. "Your
maker is your husband," says the prophet; an expression which represents Jehovah as taking under
his care all the widows in existence.
4. Perhaps your own experience may come in advantageously to encourage your confidence.  You
have been supported hitherto. You sustained the
shock of separation, which, at one time, when anticipated, you thought must crush your frame. You
have perhaps got through the first difficulties of
your afflicted condition: you have not been suffered
to sink hitherto. Remember God is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. He neither grows tired
of helping, nor unwilling to help. He that has
carried you through the first season of your widowhood, can with equal ease, sustain you through any
succeeding one.
5. Direct your attention to the language of Christ.
"Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not,
neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet yow




CONI IDENCE IN GOD.               85
heavenly Father fe(deth them. Are ye not much
better than they?-Matt. vi. 26. And this is but a
repetition of a similar sentiment in Psalm cxlvii. 9.:
"He giveth to the beast his food, and to the young
ravens which cry." Does he take care of ravens, and
sparrows, and will he not take care of you? Will he
feed his birds, and starve his babes? Think of the
millions of millions of the animal world, that rise
every morning dependent for their sustenance upon
the omnipresent and all-sufficient Feeder of his creatures; yet how few of them ever perish for want!
This consideration may not, perhaps, have struck you
before, but it is one which our Lord suggested for the
comfort of his disciples, and one, therefore, which
with great propriety and force, may be submitted to
you.
6. Consider how all creatures, rational and irrational, are under the direction and controul of God.
"He has prepared his throne in the heavens, and his
kingdom ruleth over all."  All orders of beings, from
the highest seral' in glory, down to the meanest
reptile that crawls in the dust, are his servants, and
can be made to do his will, execute his plans, and
fulfil the purposes of his benevolence towards his
people. All hearts are at -is disposal, and he can
make even the covetous liberal, the hard-hearted
sympathetic, and the hostile friendly. In a thousand
instances he has made men act contrary to their
nature, and brought as it were the waters of mercy
our of the rocky heart, to refresh the weary and faint
S




86          CONFIDENCE IN GOD.
Help has often come from quarters, whence it was to
be least expected: and instruments have been employed which, to the eye of reason, were of all the
most unlikely.
The following fact,'extracted from an American
religious newspaper, is an illustrat on of this.
"It was a cold and bleak evening, in a most
severe winter. The snow, driven by the furious
north wind, was piled into broad and deep banks
along our streets. Few dared or were willing to
venture abroad. It was a night which the poor will
not soon forget.
"In a most miserable and shattered tenement,
somewhat remote from any other habitation, there
then resided an aged widow, all alone, and yet not
alone. During the weary day, in her excessive
weakness, she had been unable to step beyond her
door stone, or to communicate her wants to any
friend. Her last morsel of bread had been long since
consumed, and none heeded her destitution. She sat
at evening by her small fire, half famished with
hun.ger,-from exhaustion unable to sleep-preparing
to meet the dreadful fate from which she knew not
how she should be spared. She had prayed that
morning, in full faith,' Give me this day my daily
bread,' but the shadows of evening had descended
upon her, and her faithful prayer had not been
answered.  While such thoughts were passing
through her weary mind, she heard the door suddenly
vpien, and as suddenly shut again, and found deposited




CONFIDqNCE IN GOD.             87
m her entry, by an unknown hand, a basket crowded
with all those articles of comfortable food, which had
all the sweetness of manna to her. What were her
feelings on that night, God only knows! but they
were such as arise up to Him-the great deliverer
and provider-from ten thousand hearts every day.
Many days elapsed before the widow learnt through
what messenger God had sent to her that timely aid,
It was at the impulse of a little child, who on that
dismal night, seated at the cheerful fiueside of her
home, was led to express the generous wish, that
that poor widow, whom she had sometimes visited,
could have some of her numerous comforts and good
cheer.  The parents followed out the benevolent
suggestion: and a servant was soon despatched to
her mean abode with a plentiful supply.
"What a beautiful glimpse of the chain of causes,
all fastened at the throne of God! An angel, with
noiseless wing, came down and stirred the peaceful
breast of a pure-hearted child, and with no pomp or
circumstance of the outward miracle, the widow's
prayer was answered."
Of course when I recommend confidence in God, it
is implied that all suitable exert'ons be made to
obtain the means of support. If you allow grief,
despondency, and indolence to paralyse your efforts,
you have ro encouragement to trust in God. His
grace is to be exercised in connexion with the employment of all those energies which yet remain:
and every widow, instead of sitting down to indulge




88          CONFIDENCE IN GOD.
in hopeless sorrow, should, in humble dependence
on divine grace, immediately apply herself in such
way as her talents and her circumstances allow, to
some occupation, for the support of herself and her
children.




IENEFITS OF AF LIlTION.            89
CHAPTER VI.
BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION
IT may not be amiss to introduce here t few of the
benefits, which afflictions in general are intended and
calculated to produce. God does not afflict willingly,
ior grieve the children of men. He takes no delight
in seeing our tears, or hearing our groans; but he
does take delight in doing us good, making us holy,
conforming us to his own image, and fitting us to
dwell in his own presence. He treats us as the
sculptor does the marble under his hand, which from
a rough unsightly mass he intends to carve into a
splendid statue, a glorious work of art. Every application of the chisel, every blow of the mallet, is to
strike off some bit of the stone, which must be removed to bring out tl se figure in perfection, which he
designs to form. In mur case how much is necessary
to be struck off froln our corrupt nature, and from
what appertains to us, oefore we can be brought into.hat form and beauty which it is the intention of the
divine artificer we should bear, especially as it is his
plan to mould us into his own image. How much
of pride and vanity; of carnality and worldly-minded.
8*




90      BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION.
ness; ofself-sufficiency and independence; ofcreatute
love and earthly dependence; must be displaced by
one blow of the mallet, end one application of the
chisel after another, before the beauties of holiness,
humility, meekness, and heavenly mindedness; and
all the graceful proportions and features of the divine
nature can be exhibited.
Various authors have represented the benefits
derived from affliction. TIoi does it quicken devotion.
Our prayers are too often only said in prosperity, now
they are prayed; then they do but drop, now they
are poured out, and flow like a stream, or rise like a
cloud of incense, in almost uninterrupted exercise, till
the thoughts and feelings seem  to follow without
intermission in one continued prayer. Ah! how
many can look back to the place of affliction, and
say, " There it was my soul poured out many prayers
to the Lord. I had grown negligent of the duty, and
careless in its performance; but then I prayed indeed:
then I had communion with God; then I sought the
Lord, and he heard me and delivered me from all my
fears." Nearness to God is the happiness of the
renewed soul. Affliction is but one of God's servants
to bring us into his presence, and the enjoyment of
this privilege. God delights to hear from us often,
as the kind parent loves to hear from his child when
at a distance from  home.  Affliction comes and
knocks at the door, enters into our habitation, asks us
if we have not forgotten our father, and expresses a
willingness to conduct us to him. Many have foun4d




BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION.              91
In trial, the lost spirit of prayer, and have experienced
in that one benefit, more than a compensation for all
they have suffered.  Many a woman has been
recalled, as a widow, to the closet of devotion, which
as a wife, she had forsaken.
Affliction discloses, mnortifies, and prevents szn. It.
is a season of remembrance. The sin of Joseph's
brethren was forgotten till they were in prison; then
it came to their recollection, and they exclaimed,
"We are verily guilty concerning our brother." The
poor widow of Zarephath, when her child lay dead;n the house, thus addressed the prophet, "'What,.ave I to do with thee, 0 thou man of God? Art
thou come unto me to call my sin to remembran e,
and to slay my son?"-1 Kings xvii. 18. Perhaps at.sat moment, the guilt of all her past life, for which
she had not sufficiently humbled herself before God,
came before her perturbed mind. Sin appears but
small, and presses but lightly on the conscience in
the days of prosperity, but its awful form seems
terrific in the night season of trial. Our sorrows look
then as the shadows of sins, and address us as with a
kind of spectral voice. We go back through our
lives; we follow ourselves through every scene; we
look at our cvnduct with an inquisitive and jealous
eye; we examine our motives, and weigh our spirits;
and oh what humbling disclosures are the result!
Many have gamed more self-lknowledge by a month's
learning in the school of sorrow, than by all their
previous life. As t discloses sin, so it mortifies it




92       BENEFIES OF AFFLICTION.
As wise and salutary discipline weakens evil habits
and strengthens the moral virtues; as the frosts of
winter kill, in fallow ground, the noxious insects, and
the rank and poisonous weeds; as the knife prunes
the tree of its dead and superfluous branches; and as
the fire purifies the precious metals, so that they lose
nothing by its action, but their dross; so trials purge.
the soul of its corruptions, by weakening the love of
sin, giving an experimental proof of its malignity,
awakening strenuous efforts to resist its influence,
and teaching the necessity of renewed acts of faith
on the atoning blood of the Saviour, and dependence
on the power and grace of the Holy Spirit. "Every
branch in me that beareth fruit, he pruneth it that it
may bear more fruit." —-John xv. 2. "By this, therefore, shall the iniquity of Jacob be purged; and this
is all the fruit to take away his sin."
When Mr. Cecil was walking in the Botanical
Gardens of Oxford, his attention was arrested by a
fine pomegranate tree, cut almost through the stem
near the root. On asking the gardener the reason ot
this, "Sir," said he, "this tree used to shoot so strong,
that it bore nothing but leaves. I was therefore
obliged to cut it in this manner; and when it was
almost cut through, then it began to bear plenty of
truit."  The reply afforded this inquisitive student a
general practical lesson, which was of considerable
use to him  in after life, when severely exercised by
personal and domestic afflictions. Alas! In many
cases, it is not enough tbat the useless branches of




BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION.              93
the tree be lopped off, but the stock itself must be
cut-and cut nearly through,-before it can become
extensively fruitful. And sometimes the finer the
tree, and the more luxuriant its growth, the deeper
must be the incision."
Nor is affliction without its benefit in preventing
sin. We never know how near we are to danger.
We are like blind men wandering near the edge of a
precipice, the mouth of a well, or the margin of a
deep pit; and then God by a severe wrench, it may
be, and a violent jerk that puts us to some pain, and
gives us a severe shock, plucks us from the ruin that
we saw not. Oh what hair-breath escapes from
destruction, effected perhaps by some distressing
visitation, shall we in eternity be made to understand,
we experienced on earth. We now  often stand
amazed at some sore trial; we cannot conjecture
why it was sent; we see no purpose it was to serve,
no end it was to accomplish,-but there was an
omniscient eye that saw what we did not, and could
not see, and he sent forth this event to pluck oui feet
from the net which had been spread for them. How
we shall adore God in heaven for these preventing
mercies, that came in the form  of some dark and
a:explicable event, which filled us at the time with
lamentation and woe! Oh woman, even thy hus"" Sympathy,"'p. 154, by the Rev. JOHN BRUCE, Minister
of the Necropolis, Liverpool. This is a tender and inestimable volume for the afflicted in general, anl especially for
those who have suffered the loss of friends.




94       BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION.
band's grave, was to prevent perhaps a calamity,still deeper and heavier than his death.
Affliction tends to exercise, improve and quicken our
graces. In the present state these are all imperfect,
and our conformity to the divine purity is only like
the resemblance of the sun in a watery cloud, our
imperfections envelope and obscure our excellencies
wherefore God sends the stormy wind of his providential and painful visitations, to sweep away the
clouds and cause the hidden luminary to shine forthHlow is faith tried, revealed and strengthened by
tribulation! Abraham hhd not known the strength of
his faith, had he not been called to sacrifice Isaac;
nor Peter his, had he not been called by Christ to
tread the waves. How many have gone with a
weak and faltering belief to the river-side, and yet
when there, have had their confidence in God so
strengthened, that they plunged into the flood, and
have emerged, wondering at the grace which carried
them in safety through. Resignation has kept pace
with their call for it. There are some graces, which,
like the stars, can be seen only in the dark, and this
is one of them. As they came *to the trial, these
afflicted ones saw that their only hope was in submission, and they sent one piercing cry to heaven,
"Lord, save or I perish.  Help me to bow down
with unresisting acquiescence." It was given them;
and they kissed the rod, exclaiming, "Even so,
Father, for so it,seemeth good in thy sight." Their
trust and confidence have equalled their faith and




BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION.              95
submission.  At one time they trembled  at the
shaking of a leaf; to their surprise they now find
they can brave storms, or face lions: then it did not
seem as if they could trust God for any thing, now
tl.ey can confide every thing to him. They have
been taught lessons of affiance, whiclh in seasons of
unmolested ease, seemed as much beyond their comprehension as their attainment. "' Tribulation worketh patience," and if it does not accomplish this in
perfection, it produces it in large measures. Oh
what a blessing is patience. It is beautifully said by
Bishop Hopkins, " If God confirms and augments thy
patience under sufferings, sufferings are mercies;
afflictions are favours. He blesseth thee by chastisements, and cros.cth thee with glory, even while he
seems to crown thee with thorns. A perfect patience
stoops to the heaviest burdens, and carries them as
long as God shall please, without murmuring and
repining; and if that be to the grave, it knows that
what is now a load, shall then be f6und to be a
treasure, A christian doth but carry his own wealth,
his crown, and his sceptre; which though here they
ne burdensome, shall hereafter be eternally glorious."
The following is an extract from a letter of Oberlin to a lady who had suffered man) bereavements.
"I have before me two stones, which are in imitation of precious stones. They are both perfectly
alike in colour, they are both of the same water,



96       BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION.
clear, pure, and clean: yet there is a marked difference between them, as to their lustre and brilliancy.
One has a dazzling brightness, while the other is dull,
so that the eye passes over it, and derives no pleasure
from the sight. What can the reason of this difference be? It is this; the one is cut but in few facets;
the other has ten times as many. These facets are
produced by at very violent operation. It is requisite
to cut, to smooth, and polish. Had these stones been
endued with life, so as to have been capable of feeling what they underwent, the one which has received
eighty facets would have thought itself very unhappy,
and would have envied the fate of the other, which,
having received but eight, has undergone but a tenth
part of its sufferings. Nevertheless, the operations
being over, it is done for ever: the difference between
the two stones always remains strongly marked.
That which has suffered but little, is entirely eclipsed
by the other, which alone is held in estimation, and
attracts attention. May not this serve to explain the
saying of our Saviour, whose words always bear
some reference to eternity:'Plessed are they that
mourn, for they shall be comforted,'-blessed whether
we contemplate them apart, or in comparison with
those who have not passed through so many trials.
O that we were always able to cast ourselves
into his arms, like little children,-to draw near him
like helpless lambs,-and ever to ask of him patience,
resignation, an entire surrender to his will, faith,
trust, and a heartfelt obedience to the commands




BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION,             97
which he gives to those who are willing to be his
disciples!' The Lord God will wipe away tears
from off all faces.'"
How does affliction tend to wean us from the world,
and to fir our affections on things above. We arO
all too worldly. We gravitate too much to earth.
We have not attained to that conquest of the world
by faith, which is our duty to seek, and would be
our privilege to obtain. Our feet stick in the mire,
and we do not soar aloft on the wings of faith and
hope into the regions above us, as we ought. We
are as moles, when we should be as eagles: mere
earthly men, when we should be as the angels of
God. With such a revelation as we possess of the
eternal world; with such a rent as is made in the
clouds of mortality by the discoveries of the New
Testament and such a vista as is opened into the
realms of immortality, how easy a thing ought it to
be, to overcome the world. With the holy mount
so near, and so accessible to our faith, how is it that
we grovel'as we do here? How is it that heaven is
opening to present its sights to our eyes, and its
sounds to our ears, and that we will neither look at
the one, nor listen to the other? "A christian ought
to be," says Lady Powerscourt,' "1Not one who looks
up from earth to heaven, but one who looks down frorn
heaven to earth." Yet the multitude do neither.
Instead of dwelling in heaven, they do not visit it
instead of abiding in it, in the state of their affeetions, they do not look at it  Hence the need, and
9




98       BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION.
the benefit too, of afflictions. They cover the earth
with the shades of night, the pall of darkness, so
that if there be any light at all, it must come from
the firmament. IHow differently things look when
seen from the chamber of sickness, or the grave of a
friend!  Honour. wealth and pleasure, lose their
charms then, and present no beauty, that we. should
desire them. We seem to regard the world as an
impostor that has deceived us, and turn from it with
disgust. The loss of a friend, and especially such a
friend as a husband, does more to prove the truth of
Solomon's description of the vanity of every thing
beneath the sun, than all the sermons we.have ever
heard, and all the volumes we have ever read.
Such are a few of the benefits to be derived, and
which by many have been derived from affliction.
"Take care, christian,' said the late Mr. Cecil,
"whatever you'meet with in your way, that you
forget not your Father! When the proud and
wealthy rush by in triumph, while you are poor and
in sorrow, listen and hear your Father saying to you,'My son, had I loved them, I should have corrected
them too. I give them up to the way of their own
hearts; but to my children, if I give sorrow, it is
that I may lead them to a crown of glory that fadeth
not away.'"
The excellent Joseph Williams, of Kidderminster,
one of the best men of modern times, does but give
the testimony of all God's chosen and tried people
where in his diary he says, "I find afflictions to be




BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION.                 39
good for me. I have ever found them so. rhey
are happy means in the hands of the Holy Spirit to
mortify my corruptions, to subdue my pride, my
passion, my inordinate love to the creature. They
soften my hard heart, bring me on my knees, exercise and increase faith, love, humility, and self-denial.
They make me poor in spirit, and.nothing i my
own eyes. Welcome the cross! Welcome deep
adversity! Welcome stripping Providences."
Humbled in the lowest deep,
Thee I for my suffering bless;
Think of all thy love, and weep
For my own unfaithfulness:
I have most rebellious been,
Thou hast laid thy hand on me,
Kindly visited my sin,
Scourged the wanderer back to thee.
Taught obedience to my God
By the things I have endured,
Meekly now I kiss the rod,
Wounded by the rod and cured;
Good for me the grief and pa.n,
Let me but thy grace adore,
Keep the pardon I regain,
Stand in awe and sin no more.
CIIARLES WESLEY.








PART SECOND.
SCRIPTURE EXAMPLES OF WIDOWS
CHAPTER I.
NAOMI, R U TH, AND ORPAH.
The fullness and appropriateness of scripture are
as delightful as they are wonderful. In that precious volume is to be found something suited to
everv character, every case, and every vicissitude
of life. Promises, precepts, and prospects of every
variety, present themselves to all who are desirous
of being directed, sanctified, and comforted. But
if any one should think there is nothing which
meets the specialities of her case, it cannot be the
widow. This living form of human woe is found
m very diversified circumstances in the Word of
God. And to these I now direct the attentioI: of
the reader.
9.




102              SCRIPTURE
The first example which I present is the little
group of widows, consisting of Naomi, and her two
daughters-in-law.
The book of Ruth where this touching story is
to be found, was written probably by Samuel, as an
introduction to the historical portion of scripture
which immediately follows it; or else it may be regarded as a beautiful episode of the inspired narrative, containing the account of a family, which as
it stands in the line of David's ancestry, and therefore in that of the Messiah, is for this reason as
important as its short annals are tender and interesting.
We are informed by the sacred writer of this
book, that a famine having arisen in the land of
Judea, Elimelech, a Jew of some note among his
countrymen, fled with his wife Naomi, and his two
sons, Mahlon and Chilion, into the land of Moab, to
which the scarcity had not extended. How far he
was justified in such a step, by which he left all the
public ordinances of true religion, to sojourn in a land
of idolaters, we cannot decide. If, indeed, there
were no other means of preserving life, it would be
wrong to'condemn him; but if it were only with a
view to obtain a comfortable.subsistence, more
easily, cheaply, and abundantly, than he could do in
Judea, he was to be censured; and some have considered the afflictions which befel him in the land
of Moab, as an expression of the divine displeasure
for resorting to' it. Let us never for any temporal




EXAMPLES.                 103
advantages give up such as are spiritual; for worldly
ease and prosperity, purchased at the expence of religion, are dearly bought: and at the same time, let
us be cautious how we pretend to interpret the
affairs of Providence, and to declare that event to be
a work of divine displeasure, which is only one of the
zommon occurrences of l:-e.
One false step is often productive of a long tram
of consequences, which extend far beyond the inJividual by whom the error is committed, and involves others in danger, or distress; this is especially true in the case of a parent. Elimelech, as we
have already said, had two sons, Mahlon and Chilion, who having arrived at manhood, and being removed from all intercourse with Jewish females,
married two of the women of the idolatrous land in
which. they now dwelt. This being contrary to the
Mosaic law, which forbad the Jews to intermarry
with strangers, was unquestionably wrong. But what
could their father expect, who had exposed them to
the peril? Religious parents should neither form
associations, nor contract friendships with gay worldly people, nor choose a residence for the sake of their
society; for by doing this, they are almost sure to
unite their children in marriage with the ungodly.
The family was now settled in Moab, and Judea
seemed, if not forgotten, yet forsaken. Alas! how
soon and how suddenly was the domestic circle in this
case, as in many others, invaded and broken up, and
all the gay visions of earthly bliss dissipated like the




104              SCRIPTURE
images of a dream. If the famine followed not this
household across the Jordan, death did, for Elimelech, who sought a portion for them, found a grave
far from  the sepulchre of his fathers, for himself,
Who feels not for Naomi? There she is a widow.
and a stranger in a strange land, distant from the
house of her God, the means of grace, the ministers
of religion, the communion of the faithful; —and surrounded only by heathens, atid their abominable
idolatries! Still her sons are with her, and also
their wives, who had, it seems, embraced the religion of their husbands.  Here then was a little
circle of relatives, and the worshippers of the true
God around her, who endeavoured to hush the sorrows of her heart, and wipe away the tears from her
eyes. But her cup of sorrow was now to be filled to
the brim, for first one son followed his father to the
grave, and then the other. Oh widows, think of
her situation, bereft by this thrice repeated blow,
of every relative by blood that was near, and left
with two widowed daughters-in-law, and they of
pagan origin, in a land of idols!
Observe now the conduct of this forlorn and desolate woman. Did she look round on her gloomy
solitude and faint at the dreary prospect? No: she
was evidently a woman of strong mind, and of
stronger faith. She had not, pc.rhaps, consented,
but only submitted to the removal from the' Holy
Land. She felt in her extremity, that though fai
from the house and people of God, she was not far




EX A I PLES.               105
from his presence; and convinced of his all-mightiness, as well as of his all-sufficiency, she turned to
his promise for comfort, and leaned upon his power
for support. Recollecting her situation, she gathered up her thoughts, and these led her to Judea.
Moab was now a land of none but melancholy associations, containing as it did, besides the wickedness of its inhabitants, the sepulchre of her husband,
and of her two sons. We wonder not that she
thought of her native country, and determined to return. One only attraction made her linger, Hocould she quit that grave, and dwell so far from it,
which contained so much that was still precious to
affection, and to memory. This one feeling overcome, she prepared for her sorrowful journey homewards. She had become endeared to Ruth and Orpah, who resolved not to quit her, and chose rather
to abandon their own relatives, than the mother of
their departed hushands. The three widows set
forth together, a melancholy group. Thinking it
right to put their sincerity to the' test, Naomi addressed them in an early stage of the journey, in
language, the pathos of which will be felt by every
childless widow to the end of time. Orpah yielded
to her entreaties, embraced her and returned; but
no persuasions could induce Ruth, the chosen of the
Lord, to separate from her, and she expressed the
resolution of her piety and affection in language of
exquisite 4mplicity, beauty, and tenderness;-" Entreat me  t. to leave the, or to return from follow.




106             SCRIPTURE
ing after thee: for whither thou goest I will go;
and where thou lodgest I will lodge; thy people
shall be my people, and'thy God my God. Where
thou diest I will die, and there will I be buried.
The Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but
death part thee and me."  Such love was not to be
refused, nor such a purpose to be shaken; and they
travelled on together towards the land of Judea.
On their approach to Bethlehem, the city of
Naomi, a fine testimony was afformcd i    tie oF-ols
Jewess, of the estimation in which she was held by
her' neighbours and friends, for the whole city went
forth to meet her, and welcome her back. The very
language of their congratulations, however gratifying
to her heart, as it was in one respect, pierced it as
with a barbed arrow, by reminding her, in the very
repetition of her name, which signifies happy, of the
altered circumstances in which she returned to them.
"Is this Naomi'?" they exclaimed, "Is this she
whom we knew so rich, so prosperous, so happy,
as the wife of Elimelech? How changed, how
broken, how desolate! Thy widow's weeds tell us
what is become of thy husband: but where are thy
two sons, and who is this younger widow that accompanies thee?  "Alas, alas," she replies, "it is
Naomi's self, but not now answering to her name:
Jehovah in his righteous judgments, has deprived me
of every thing that entitled me to the blissful designation that once belonged to me, as a joyful wife.
and happy mother; call me Marah, a name more




EXA.IPT ES.                107
befitting me as a poor childless widow." Amidst all,
she acknowledged the hand of God in her bereave.
ments, and while she gave utterance to her sorrows,
did not darken the tale with the language of complaint. Four times, in the compass of her short
reply, did she trace up her losses to the divine hand.
"The Lord hath afflicted me," was her declaration.
Hlow much is included in that expression!
Naomi gave not herself up to the indulgence of
indolent and consuming grief, but immediately employed her thoughts in providing for the faithful and
devoted Ruth, whose stedfast attachment towards
God and herself, had been so convincingly manifested.
Her conduct in this business was not that of an artful
and scheming woman, busy and dexterous in contrivances for bringing about an advantageous marriage
for her daughter-in-law; but of one who was well
skilled in the provisions of the code of Moses, and,who knew that if a man died without issue, the next
of kin unmarried, should marry his widow, and thus
raise up seed to preserve and transmit the patrimonial inheritance in a right line. All her conduct, in
bringing about the union of Ruth-with Boaz, however
different from the habits, and opposed to the feelings
of modern times, was directed with strict regard to
the Levitical arrangetntnts.
Three different classes of widows may be instructed
oy this narrative.
1. Those who are called to this sorrowful condition
in a strange land; and such sometimes occur: such




108              SCRIPTURE
I have known, of whose sorrows I have been the
distressed and sympathising spectator. I shall not
soon forget the melancholy scene I witnessed when
an American lady was deprived of her husband by
death in my own vicinity, and left with five small
children, three thousand miles from any relative she
had on earth. Her husband occupied a spacious
phouse, and extensive grounds, of which every room,
and every tree, as her eye rolled listlessly round on
what had once pleased her, reminded her of her utter
and gloomy solitude. Others there are who are like
her, for whom  I cherish a sympathy, which no
language can express. Your case, as a widow, even
if surrounded by all the scenes of a home in your
native land, and all its friends and dear relations, is
sad enough; but to be away from all these; to wear
your sad costume, and pour forth your tears among
those who have no tie to you, and no interest in you,
but what your sorrows create, and what common
humanity inclines them to yield to the stranger in
distress-this is affliction, and is to be, a "widow
indeed." Let me, however, remind you of topics
thal have, or ought to have, power to soothe even
your lone heart. Recollect, that God is everywhere.
Like wretched Hagar in the wilderness, you may lift
your eye to heaven and say, " Thou God seest me."
Yes, God with all his infinite attributes of power,
wisdom, and love, is with you. Between you and
earthly friends continents may lie, and oceans roll,
but all places are equally occupied b) your divine




EXAMPLES.                 1)9
friend, and are equally near to your heavenly home.
Even though you had been alone in the midst of an
African wilderness, or an American ibrest, or an
Asiatic heathen city, when you were called to surrender your husband; though you had been called to
dig his grave, and lay him there yourself God could
sustain you, for he is omnipotent, and all-sufficient.
Lean upon his arm; yea, trust him, though it seem
in your case to be a kind of experiment, a sort of
proof to test him, and try under how weighty a load
of care and grief he can support you. If it be a kind
of uttermost, that you are inviting him to, he will
accept, with wondrous condescension, the invitation,
and come in the plenitude of his power and grace to
your help. Only believe that God can and will
sustain you, and you will be sustained. The power
of God is not weakened by your distance from the
scenes of your nativity, the circle of your friends, or
the comforts of your home.
2. In the conduct and character of Orpah we find
a type of those young widows who having been
brought to a profession of religion during the life of a
pious husband, relapse at his death into their former
worldly-mindedness, and indifference to spiritual
subjects. This, perhaps, is not an uncommon case.
A female marries a pious man, and through his
example and persuasions her mind is impressed with
the great concern of salvation, and she becomes a
professor of religion; renounces the world; confobrms
to the orders and observances of domestict worship
10




110               SCRIPTURE
accompanies her husband to the house of God and
the sacramental table; and seems in earnest about
eternal salvation. In the course of Providence, her
husband and spiritual guide is remloved by death.
During the first months of her widowhood, while her
grief is fresh and deep, she still keeps up an attendarnce on all her religious duties, and repairs to them
as almost her only comfort. But as the pungency of
sorrow abates, she becomes less and less dependen,
on religion for her comfort. The world smiles on her
and she begins to return its smiles. She insensibly
loses her interest in religion, and feels a reviving love
to occupations and amusements, which during the
life of her husband, she had seemed to abjure; till at
length, her heart, after a little hesitation, goes back
to its own country, and its idols. This is a melancholy occurrence, where the loss of the husband is
followed with the loss of the soul, and she parts from
him in the dark valley of the shadow of death never
again to meet him; no not in heaven.  He left her
with the hope of meeting her at the right hand of
the judge, and impressed his last kiss upon her cheek
in the pleasing anticipation of embracing her as a
glorified spirit in the world of glory; but she will not
be there, for she has forsaken God, and returned to
the world. What bitter emotions will the remembrance of his holy love, and faithful care of her
spiritual Interest furnish in that dark world, to which
her spirit will be consigned.  0 wommi, once wife
o'the pious, go not back. Let not the piety happily




EXAMPLES.                 111
commenced amidst the joys of connutial life, be
dispersed by the sorrows of your widowed state! Let
the seeds of religion sown in your soul by a husband's
hand, be watered by his widow's tears, and watched
by her vigilant and assiduous care. Would you be
separated from him in eternity, and by a gulph so
wide and so impassable as that which divides hell
from heaven? Oh, pray, and seek, and labour, that
his death may be the means of perpetuating the faith
which his life commenced. Keep up the recollection
of his example, his prayers, his solicitude for your spiritual welfare. Let his blest shade, wearing the smile
of piety and look of love, and with his finger pointing
you to the skies, be ever before your imagination, as
your guardian spirit, ministering to your salvation.
Perhaps you have children, and never can forget
with what holy anxiety he endeavoured to train them
op for God and heaven. His prayers for their salvation still sound in your ears; his tears over their
interests still drop before your eyes; his last charge,
as he consigned them into your hands on his dying
bed, to bring them up in wisdom's ways, yet thrills
through your soul. Oh! and shall these consecrated
pledges of your affection; these living monuments of
his dear self, these offerings made so solemnly to God
be carried back by you to the world? Will you undo
all that you saw him do with such pious labour?
Will you take from the altar of God, those whom he
had conducted to it, and offer them at the shrine of
Nammon?




112              SCRIPTURE
3. But turn to Ruth, and see there a: emae
brought by her marriage to the knowledge and worship of the true God, and still retaining in her
widowhood her devotedness to him. I again refer
you to that exquisite burst of filial love, and genuine
piety, "Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return
from followiug after thee; for whither thou goest I
will go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge; thy
people shall be my people, and thy God my God."
No; she would not go back to her country and to her
gods, but determined to go into Judea, and serve the
God of Chilion, her husband: and she did. Happy
woman, and rich was her reward! What can so
gently sooth the sorrows of widowhood, so mollify its
wounds, so raise its fallen hopes, and sweeten its
biktter cup, as retaining the power of that religion,
which sanctifies and strengthens the marriage bond.
True it is that when a wife has found in a'husband
the instrument of her conversion, and many have
found it, it seems an additional aggravation to her
loss, to be thus deprived of her earthly companion
and heavenly guide; but when she holds fast the
faith that she learnt from him, she is by this means
prepared to bow with submission to the loss, and to
feel her solitude more tolerable. How sacred and
how tender are her recollections, if she retains her
sted.astness. Nothing but what is pleasant comes
from the past into her mind. No remorse of conscience smites her, as it must do the widow who
departs from the religion she had professed in he]




EXAMPLES.                  113
marriage state. She never in her dreams, or in her
waking hours sees her husband's frowning image
looking with reproachful eye upon her. Maintaining
with unbroken consistency her profession, she is
soothed and comforted still, by all the holy assiduities
of those of her pious friends whom his religion
brought around her, and whom her own, now retains.
Her heart is dead to the world, and no distance of
time from his decease seems to revive it. In communion with God, that God to whom he led her, and
to whom they so frequently approached together, she
finds her consolation. The seasons of their joint
devotion still please and edify in recollection. The
books they read together are re-perused-the place
which he occupied in the sanctuary, and in the scene
of domestic piety, still present him to her memory,
and stimulate her devotion —the spot where they
kneeled and poured out together their cares and joys
in prayer and thanksgiving to God, rekindles from
time to time the flame of piety in her soul.
Then her children, if she.has any, are still the
objects of her solicitude and care. She feels a sweet
and sacred obligation upon her conscience, to carry
on that system of education which she commenced
under the directioa and with the help of her most
dear husband.
She knows it to be at once her duty and her privilege to train up for God, those whom she had so often
heard him commend with. such earnestness to their
heavenly father. Often as she talks of their sainted.0




114               SCR1!'TURE
parent till her tears and sobs almost choke hlr utter.
ance, she reminds them that if they follow his faith
and patience, they shall soon all meet in the presence
of Christ to part no more.
Widow of the departed christian, forsake not then
the God of your husband, and your own God too:
follow him in his piety, and follow him to glory, and
let it be the solace of your widowhood to remember,
that
The saints on eartl! and all the dead,
But one communion make;
All join in Christ their living head,
And of his grace partake.
And in order to cleave to your husband's God, cleave
to his pious relatives. Imitate Ruth in this. It may
be that like her, you have been called out of a circle
in which true piety had neither place nor countenance.
Your own relatives are of the earth, earthly, and
holding lax views and sentiments with regard to
religion, they are likely, if much associated with, to
divert your thoughts, and turn the current of your
affections away from things unseen and eternal, to
things seen and temporal. They will, perhaps, wish
to recover you back to your former indifference to
these important matters, and propose means to
recreate your spirits very alien from all your present
convictions and tastes. It will be their especial
effort, probably to draw you out of the circle of your
husband's religious friends, and bring you back to the




EXAMPLES.                  115
gay circle you have left. Such effor s must be judiciously and kindly, but, at the same time, firmly
resisted. Without alienating yourself from your own
worldly friends, you must not allow yourself to be
separated from his pious ones. In their society you
will find, not only the most precious and sacred
consolations, but the most likely means to establish
you in the faith and hope of the gospel, and to perpetuate your enjoyment of its rich privileges.
This is important on account of your children also.
You are desirous of bringing them up in the fear of
God, and the love of Christ, according to the plan
and design of their departed father: and to accomplish this, it is necessary to keep them as much as
possible from such associations as would defeat your
hopes, and to place them in the way of others, whose
example and influence would conduce to their accomplishment. Character is formed in a great measure by imitation, and if we place the young and
susceptible mind in the way of such examples as are
altogether worldly, even though they may not be
vicious, we are exposing them to great hazard, and
are putting in jeopardy their eternal salvation.




116             SCRIPTURE
CHAPTER II.
THE WTDOW OF ZAIREPHATH.-1 Kings, xvil.
Ain example of trust and kindness to such widou s as
are poor.
THE prophet Elijah, after having been miraculously
fed during a long famine, by ravens at the brook
Cherith, found it necessary to quit his retreat in
consequence of the failure of the stream which -had
nitherto supplied him with water. There is a mysterious sovereignty running through all the ways of
God, extending also to his miraculous operations. He
works no more wonders, and gives no more signs,
than the exigency of the case needs. He that sent
flesh by a bird of prey, could have caused the brook
still to resist the exhausting power of the drought, or
have brought water out of the stones which lay in
its dry bed: but he did not see fit to do so. When
the brook fails, however, God has a Zarephath for




EXAMrPLEs.                117
his servant; and a widow, instead of ravens, shall
now feed him; for all creatures are equally God's
servants, and he is never at a loss for instruments
either of power to destroy his enemies, or of love to
succour and help his friends: what he does not find
he can make, and here, therefore, is a firm grornd of
our confidence in him: " They that know his name
will put their trust in him."  "Arise," said God to
the prophet, " get thee to Zarephath, which belongeth
to Zidon, and dwell there: behold, I have commanded
a widow woman to sustain thee there." E4try
thing in the injunction must have been confounding
to reason. "What! go to Zarephath! a city out of
the boundaries of the land of promise! the native
country of Jezebel, my bitterest foe! Go to such a
distance in a time of famine! What am I to do, and
how am I to be fed on my long and toilsome journey?
And when I shall have arrived there, am I to be
dependant on a woman, and she a widow?" Did
Elijah reason, and question, and cavil thus? Nothing
of the sort, for what is difficult to reason, is easy to
faith. God had commanded, and his commands
imply promises. It was enough, " Go, for God sends
thee;" and he went nothing doubting, nothing asking,
nothing fearing.
Arrived at the vicinity of the place about eventide,
and looking round, of course, for the female hand
that was at once to guide him to a home, and feed
him too, Elijah saw a poor woman gathering a few
sticks, which the long drought had scattered in




118             SCRIrTURE.
abunldance. I{-Tr occupation, as well as hbr appearance, proclaimed her poverty. He saw no one else;
"Can that be my benefactress?" we can fancy him
asking himself. Remembering, however, the ravens
who had been his purveyors for a whole year, he
knew that help could come by the hand of even that
feeble instrument. An impression, such as those
who had been accustomed to receive revelations from
God well understood, assured him that his deliverer
was before him. "Fetch me," said he, "a little
water in a vessel that I may drink." Such a request was asking for more than gold. Yet awed by
the prophet's appearance, and influenced by the
prophet's God, she set out immediately in quest of
the precious liquid, but was stopped to hear another
request: " Bring me a morsel of bread in thy hand."
This second request drew from the poor woman one
of the most affecting statements that even poverty's
self ever made: "As the Lord thy God liveth, I
have not a cake, but a handful of meal in a barrel.
and a little oil in a cruse, and behold I am gathering
two sticks that I may go in and dress for me and
my son, that we may eat it and die." Alas! poor
mother, thy condition is sad indeed, thou art, in
thine own apprehension, about to make thy last
meal, with thy fatherless child, and then with him
to yield yourselves to death. It was time for the
prophet to visit this widow, to whom he was
evidently sent, more on her account than his own.
How little could she have imagined when she ut



EXAMIPLES.                 119
ered that sorrowful confession of destitution, that
help was at hand, and a rich supply at her very
door. IHow opportunely does God provide succours
for our distresses. It is his glory to begin to help,
when hope seems to end, and to send assistance in
his own way, when ours all fail, that our relief may
be so much the more welcome and precious, by how
much the less it is expected, and thus be to his own
praise, as much as it is for our comfort. Elijah full
of prophetic impulse, as well as urged by hunger,
said to her, "Fear not; go, and do as thou hast
said; but make me thereof a little cake first, and
bring it unto me, and afterwards make for thee and
for thy son: for thus saith the Lord God of Israel,
The barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the
cruse of oil fail, until the day that the Lord sendeth
rain upon the earth. What answer to this would
he have received from  many, yea, from all who
were not as full of faith as this poor widow! She
might have said, " Charity begins at home. IMy
child has claims upon me, and I have a claim upon
and for myself, which it is iimpossible to forego or
forget for any other; and I am surprised at a request which would take the last morsel from us
both to feed a otranger." And do I not hesitate to
say, that her compliance with the injunction, can be
justified only on the ground of her faith in the promise. That she did believe the promise is evident,
and equally so, that this faith was the gift of God to
her soul. This was faith, and of no ordinary strength;




120              SCRIPTURE.
it made her willing " to spend upon one she had
never seen before a part of the little she had, in
hope of more; to part with the means of present
support, which she saw, in confidence of future supplies, which she could not see; and thus oppose her
senses and her reason to exercise her belief in God's
word."*  She went and did according to the saying
of Elijah. And now, we ask, was she deceived by
the failure, or rewarded by the fulfilment, of the
promise?  When  did  one word  that God had
spoken fall to the ground?  Thus stands the record: "She and her son did eat many days. And
the barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse
of oil fail, according to the word of the Lord, which
he spake by Elijah."
" Behold then," says the author of Elijah the Tishbite, "this man of God cheerfully sitting down in
her solitary cottage.  Surely'the voice of rejoicing
and salvation is in the tabernacles of the righteous;'
for' the right hand of the Lord,' on their behalf,'doeth valiantly.' — Psalm cxviii. 15. They rejoice together, not only on account of temporal blessings, but mucn more on account of those which are
spiritual. Israel had lost Elijah, and a poor widow
in a heathen land has found him. Thus often does
it fare with a people, who, though they have been
privileged with the most faithful preaching of the
gospel, will not turn unto the Lord, with all their
See the 5eautiful Contemplations of Bishop Hall.




EX AMIPLES.                121
near,: anl walk uprightly before him. They are
cursed with a famine of the Word of God; the
children's bread is taken from them., and imparted to
others whoml they account no better than dogs, who
however'will receive it,' and are languishing for it.
Indeed our Lord himself thus applies this part of
sacred history to the case of the people of Nazareth,
who refused to receive his ministry:'I tell you of a
truth, many widows were in Israel in the days of
Elias, when the heaven was shut up three years and
six months, when great famine was throughout all
the land; but unto none of them was Elias sent,
save unto Sarepta, a city of Sidon, unto a woman
that was a widow.' —Luke iv. 25, 26. Here then
the prophet dwells quite happy under the widow's
roof. All distress has disappeared. The meal is
not diminished in the barrel, nor fails the oil in the
cruse, according to the word of the Lord, which he
spake by Elijah. Neither does their spiritual sustenance fail. Well mighllt this poor widow rejoice in
the privilege of sitting daily at the feet of this man
of God, for ia.struction in divine things!  Can we
doubt for a moment that the prophet most gladly
opened his mouth in divine wisdom, to impart it to
the soul of this simple believing sister?  Can we
doubt that they prayed together, that they read together out of Moses and the prophets, that they conversed together of the day of Christ, which Abraham
saw with gladness? And would they not, think
you, occasionally raise a spiritual song to the honour
11




122              SCRIPTURE
ot their Lord and Saviour?  How swiftly and how
pleasantly must the hours have passed with them;
and well might the angels of God have rejoiced, as
no doubt they did, over this little church in the wilderness! Behold here then, my brethren, the bright
egress and happy termination of a path, which commenced in such thick darkness!  Only let all the
children of God implicitly follow his guidance, and he
will assuredly conduct them to a glorious end."
The trials of this poor widow, however, consisted
not of her poverty alone. The child miraculously
snatched from the jaws of famine was still mortal,
as the event proved, for he sickened and died. In
her behaviour under this new trial, we see that her
faith, as a believer, was sadly mixed with her infirmity as a woman; and that it did not shine with
the same lustre in this new trial, as it did in the
former one.  What poor changeable creatures we
are, and how insufficient is past grace for present
duties and afflictions. Perhaps, we are sometimes
as apt to presume upon past experience, as we are,
at other seasons, to forget it. " What have I to do
with thee thou man of God?  Art thou come to
call my sin to remembrance, and to slay my son?"
This was the language of ignorance and passioD:
which we should hardly have expected from  one
who had seen the miracle of the barrel of meal, and
cruse of oil; and shows how sorrow is apt to becloud the judgment and to exasperate the feelings,
an' at the same time, how affliction is;apt to re



EXAMPLES.                 123
vive the recollections of past and even pardoned sin.
Elijah, with a touching gentleness, which instructs
us how to bear with the petulant complaints of deep
grief, bore with her expostulation, and restored the
child to life, and to the arms of his joyful and grateful mother. Her faith and confidence, a little shaken
by the trial, returned with her son's life, and she
lived, with him, to praise and glorify God.
And now let those to whom this beautful narrative
is especially applicable, take it to themselves, and
apply it to their own sad and sorrowful hearts?
And who are they? The widows that are left in
circumstances of deep poverty, who have only a
handful of meal, as. it were, in the barrel, and a little
oil in the cruse; and who after eating this last supply, are preparing to yield themselves to want or
death. Afflicted woman, my heart bleeds for you.
The provider for your own comfort and that of your
children is gone; the hand of the diligent that once
made you, if not rich, yet comfortable, has forgotten
its cunning, and it is your bitter lot to see the little
which he left you, continually consuming, without
your knowing, or even being able to conjecture, from
whence the empty barrel is to be replenished. It
is for such as you, to remember the words of
Jehovah, "And let thy widows trust in me." You
have no other trust, and none are so much encouraged to trust in God, as they whose sole confidence, the Lord is. Then, above all times, is tne
time to look up with hope to God, when we have




124              SCRIPTURE
no other to look up to. What promises are upon
record for your consolation.  Having already laid
them before you, I will only refer to a few of them.
What sweet language is that in Psalm xxxiv. 1-10,
and Psalm xxxvii. Turn to your Bible, and read
those comforting portions of Holy Scripture. Then
how cheering to the believer is the prophet's assurance, "HI-e shall dwell on high: his place of defence shall be the munitions of rocks: bread shall
be given; his water shall be sure."-Isaiah xxxiii.
16. Can any thing be more encouraging than the
apostle's application to the individual believer, of
the promise made to Joshua? So that we may
boldly say, we Christians, yes, every one of us individually, The Lord is my helper. Be content
with such things as ye have, then, for he hath said,
"I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee."  The
force of this passage in the original, exceeds the
power of translation: it contains five negative particles within the compass of these few words, so
that literally rendered it would be, "No, I will not
leave thee; no, no, I will not forsake thee." It is
one of the most emphatical and beautiful examples
of the force of a negative declaration, in all the
scripture. God seems to start back with dread and
abhorrence at the thought of forsaking his people.
Trust him. Not that I mean to insinuate that you
are authorised to expect miraculous supplies. Your
garments will not be rendered undecaying like those
of the Israelites in the wilderness, nor your pro



EXAMPLES.                  125
visions inexhaustible, like those of the widow before us; but the God of providence can find you
means and instruments of assistance, as effectual as
if the laws of nature were suspended in your behalf.
All hearts are in his hands; all events are at his disposal; all contingencies are in his knowledge and
under his direction. What is wanting on your part
is FAITH. Only believe, and perhaps you are really
shut up to this; you can scarcely do any thing else.
Not that I mean to discourage effort. On this
subject I have dwelt in a former part of the volume:
you must, in proper season and manner, exert yourself in your own slipport, and that of your children;
but what I mean is, that when after every disposition, and fixed determination, and collected energy,
to do this, you do not see through what channel,
and to what object, your efforts are to be directed;
you are to believe that God will, in ways unknown
and unthought of by you, afford you his assistance.
This is your faith.  In ten thousand times, ten
thousand instances, as we have already remarked,
he has helped poor dependent widows as effectually
without a miracle, as he did the woman of Zarephath by one. The barrel of meal, and cruse of oil
has been replenished as truly, though not as mysteriously, as in the case before us. And why is this
case recorded, but to encourage you to trust in God.
It was a miracle it is true, and like other miracles
had the high design of confirming the revelation of
God by his prophet; but it was a miracle of supply
11*




126              SCRIPTURE
to one in want, intended visibly to typify and illustrate God's ordinary providence in supplying the
wants of his people, and to encourage through all
ages, the exercise of pious confidence in him. Read
it with this view of it; and when the last supply is
exhausted, from time to time, read it again and
again, to raise the hope of a future communication
from him, who heareth the young ravens when they
cry. You do not know when or how it will come,
but believe that it will come. 0 what a God-honouring grace is faith! and as this honours Him, so
ne delighteth to honour it. All things are possible,
and all things are promised, to him that believeth.
As no miracle could be wrought, in the time when
these wondrous operations were common, without
faith in the subject of it; so now, in cases of providential interposition, no manifestation of God's power and grace is to be looked for, but in answer to
faith. I would not encourage enthusiasm, but I be-.ieve that God saith to his dependent and destitute
people, "1Be it unto you according to your faith."
Do not, then, look only to see the barrel of meal
gradually sinking lower and lower, but look up
unto God who can replenish it, and with much in
the former to generate doubt and fear, feel also that
there is as much in the latter to encourage faith
and hope.
But there is another lesson to be learnt by the
conduct of the widow of Sarepta, and that is, not to
let yow own grief and comparative destitution. steel




EXAMPLES.                 127
your hearts against the wants of others, and close
your hands to their necessities. She shared with
Elijah the last meal she was preparing for herself
and her son. Grief is apt to make us selfish, and
limited circumstances to produce an indisposedness
to communicate. Take heed against such a state
of mind as this. Exhaust not all your tears upon
yourself. There are many as destitute as you are,
perhaps some far more so. You are prepared by experience to sympathise with them, and will find in
sympathy a relief for your own sorrows. Nothing
tends more to relieve that overwhelming sense of
wretchedness, with which the heart of the sufferer
is sometimes oppressed, than a generous Fity Ibr a
fellow weeper.




128               SCRIPTURE
CHAPTER Ii.
THE WIDOW OF ONE OF THE SONS OF THE
PROPHETS.
Addressed to the Widows of Ministers left in
destitute circumstances.
Now there cried a certain woman of the wives of the sons
of the prophets unto Elisha, saying, Thy servant my hus.
band is dead; and thou knowest that thy servant did fear
the Lord: and the creditor is come to take unto him my
two sons to be bondmen. And Elisha said unto her, What
shall I do for thee? tell ime, what hast thou in the house 1?
And she said, Thine handmaid hath not any thing in the
house, save a pot of oil. Then he said, Go, borrow thee
vessels abroad of all thy neighbours, even empty vessels;
borrow not a few. And when thou art come in, thou
shalt shut the door upon thee and upon thy sons, and shalt
pour out into all those vessels, and thou shalt set aside
that which is full. So she went from him, and shut the
door upon her and upon her sons, who brought the vessels
to her; and she poured out. And it came to pass, when




EXAMIPLES.                  129
the vessels were full, that she said unto her son, Bring me
yet a vessel. And he said unto her, There is not a vessel
more. And the oil stayed. Then she came and told the
man of God. And he said, Go, sell the oil, and pay thy
debt, and live thou and thy children of the rest." —2 Kings,
iv. 1-7.
BY the sons of the prophets we are to understand
those who were collected into a kind of colleges,
where persons, called of God to the prophetic office,
were trained for their future duties, under the superintendance of inspired men. Samuel, Elijah, Elisha,
and probably some others, were appointed to this
high and responsible station. Among the disciples
of these great teachers were some married men.
One of these, the scripture above quoted, tells us
died, leaving a widow involved in debt contracted
by her husband, and with two children to support.
She was sued for payment, and as the law allowed
a claim for personal service, in default of any other
means of discharging the debt, a claim which extended, according to the interpretation of the Jews,
to a man's children, her creditors were about to seize
her two sons. Denied mercy by the claimant, she
applied in her extremity to Elisha, with the hope
probably of obtaining his interposition with the chief
creditor, or with some other persons able to befriend
her. She reminds the prophet of the godly character of her husband; of his own acquaintance with
him; and of his knowledge of the truth of her testimony to his blameless conduct. From this it seems




130              SCRIPTURE
fair to conclude, that his debts had not been contracted by prodigality, luxury, or imprudence. Elisha listened to the widow's tale of woe, and then
by an impulse from God, relieved her wants by the
performance of a miracle. Still it was a miracle
that required some exertion on her part after the
means of supply were provided. Upon enquiring
into what articles of value or support she had left in
the house, it was found that all which poverty had
left her, was a small pot of oil, which, as is well
known, was then used both for diet and as an
unguent. This she was directed to produce, and
at the same time, to go and borrow all the vessels
which she could well get together in a short time,
and in a small room. These having been procured,
she was directed to pour the oil into them. She
complied with the orders, and the oil continued to
flow and to fill the vessels, till there was enough,
upon its being sold, to pay her husband's debts, and
save her sons from servitude.
Here again was an instance of faith. She knew
the word of the prophet was the word of God, and
she believed it, confidently expecting the relief
which she needed. Elisha, it is true, had not in
so many words promised to grant a supply of oil,
but she understood his command to berrow the vessels, in this light, and therefore collected them, both
large and numerous ones. AnC( the oil continued
flowing as long as she had any empty vessels to receive it, and had her faith been greater, her supply




XAr PLES.                 131
had been raised in proportion to it. We are never
straitened in God, in his power, or grace, but in ourselves. It is our faith that stops, or fails, and not hi,
promise. He is able to do exceeding abundantly
above all that we ask or think. "And if this pot
of oil was not exhausted as long as there were vessels to receive it, shall we fear lest the'golden oil'
(of divine grace) which flows from the very root and
fatness of the good olive tree, should fail, as long as
there are any lamps to be supplied from  it?"Zech. iv. 12. How well and deservedly is faith
called precious. How many has it sanctified, comforted, and saved. Why the prophet relieved her
in this way, we know not, except it were to bring
out her faith, ht:,: industry, and her honesty, all in
one view, and in beautiful harmony. Certain it is
that all these were exhibited; her faith in receiving
the promise; her industry in collecting and selling
the oil; and her honesty in paying the debts with
the produce.
"Your fathers where are they, and the prophets
do they live for ever?" All flesh is as grass, and all
the glory of man as the flower of grass.  The grass
withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away: but
the word of the Lord endureth for ever. And this is
the word, which by the gospel is preached unto
you." — Peter i. 24, 25. Yes, the word is immortal, but the preacher of it is mortal. Ministers die
like other men. Life worketh in their hearers, but
death in them. They not only die in their work,




132              SCRIPTURE
but often by it. They sink to the grave worn out
by labour, and usually leave their widows and children ill provided with the riches of this world. Here
and there an individual attains, by the bounty of
Providence, to comparative wealth, but these are
the exceptions: the general rule of ministerial circumstances is, if not poverty, an approach to it. To
them it is given to say, with the great apostle of the
Gentiles, "poor, yet making many rich." Blessed
with talents, which, in other occupations, would
be sufficient to procure competence, if not wealth,
they give themselves in most cases, wholly to the
things of the Lord. The consequence of this is,
that with the most rigid economy, they are with
difficulty able to obtain support, much less to amass
property. Considering their acquirements, mental
capacity, and rank in life, they are the worst paid
public functionaries in existence. But they look not
for their reward from men, or upon earth. They
serve a master infinitely rich, and infinitely generous, and amidst much ingratitude and injustice
from their flocks, they can leave their services and
their reward with him. It is vain, however, to
deny that it costs them many an anxious hour,
when breaking down under their exertions, to contemplate the moment of their removal from this
world. Not that they have any thing to fear for
themselves; for them it will be better to depart and
to be with Christ. They are going to rest from all
their labours, ar I all their cares-but the prospect




EXAMP L ES.               133
of leaving a widow and fatherless children, to the
generosity of a congregation which was never over
liberal while they lived, and is likely soon to forget
them in affection for their successor, requires strong
confidence indeed to suppress the fear, ard even the
groan of painful anxiety.
The dying fears, the last he will ever know, of the
good man, oftentimes prove but too prophetic, as you
nis forlorn and desolate widow, too well know. You
are inde.ed to be pitied. He who, in relation to you,
united the husband and pastor, is removed; he
whose love in your own house was your solace as a
wife, and whose sermons in the house of God, were
your comfort as a christian, is gone for ever. You
are the centre of that grief of which the congregation
are the wide circle. It is pain enough to see that
pulpit occupied by another, which he once and so
long filled; and to hear another voice than his sound
forth the message of life: but other woes aggravate
this already heavy one. They loved him and valued
his ministry, perhaps, while he lived, and it seemed
as if he had prepared for himself an imperishable
monument in every heart, and would be long and
gratefully remembered by those, on whose hallowed
recollections he had strong claims; and who, it might
have been expected, would love to demonstrate and
perpetuate their gratitude, in sympathy for his
widow, and beneficence to his children. But you
have proved how little reliance is to be placed upon
posthumous affection. You were prepared, or ought
12




134              SCRIPTURE
to have been, to witness a transfer of that respect
and affection which had been cherished for the former
pastor, to his successor; it is right and proper it
should be so; and you ought to rejoice and feel
thankful that the church, for which your husband
laboured so hard, prayed so fervently, and which
pressed so heavily on his spirit, in his last and suffering hours, is so comfortably settled. with one to
follow in his footsteps, and to carry on his usefulness:
-but you were not prepared, how could you be? to
see him so soon forgotten, and to hear comparisons
unkindly made, and indelicately conveyed to you,
between him and his successor, and to his disparagement. You were not prepared, how could you be?
to find his widow neglected, his children forsaken:
to feel so soon that you were left, though surrounded
with numerous friends, that once were competitors for
your friendship, to mourn apart and unpitied. You
were not prepared, to learn how much of former attention was paid you for your husband's sake, and how
soon you would find this out when he was removed.
Nor is this the last or the lowest step in the descending scale of your sorrows. \When your husband
died, the means of your support died with hin, and
you are now cast with your children, upon Providence for support. You expected a little more generous and practical sympathy, from a church in whose
spiritual welfare your husband wore out his strength,
and are bitterly disappointed that all those professlons of attachment, which it was your privilege, at




EXAnDIPLES.                135
one time, to hear so profusely lavished on h:m, have
ended, in results, so far as you are concerned, so
miserably disproportionate.
Should all this really he the case with any whose
sorrowful eye shall read these pages, I recommend
to them the consideration, that provided their faith
and trust be equal to the emergency, the less they
receive from man, the more they may expect from
God.  Bear this heavy trial with meekness and a
quiet spirit. Do not show resentment; and endeavour
to feel none. Bring no accusation and utter no conmplaint, much less reviling. Silent and patient submission is most likely to draw attention upon your
circumstances. Many a widow in your situation,
has injured her own cause by reproachful reflections
upon the people of her late husband's charge. A
modest but not servile appeal, laid in confidence
before somie of your friends, on behalf of his necessitous children, may be properly made, and ought to
be attended to; and in order to engage those friends,
take care that your children be well trained. It
must be confessed, that in many instances, the want
of interest and sympathy for the widow and children
of a minister of religion, is to be traced, not so much
to the want of kind feeling on the part of the people,
as to her want of good sense and good temper, and
their destitution of good training, and good conduct.
If she be unreasonable in her expectations, and petulant and disrespectful in the event of their not being
fulfilled; or if the children be rude, refractory, and




136              SCRIPTURE
unlovely through deficiency of maternal rest'tart; it
requires much stronger generosity or affection, than
is usually met with even among professing christians,
to overcome so much that is repulsive, and to be kind
to the living, only for the sake of the dead. Amidst
the deficiencies or the scantinesses of human sympathy, look for it from a source where it never fails.
God observes your situation, and beholds you as the
relic of one whom he delighted to honour. You can
go to Him with boldness and say, " Thy servant is
dead who feared thee; look in pity on those whom
he has left in poverty and difficulty."  If such a plea
prevailed with the prophet, will it not with God?
He is no debtor to you, or to your late husband; but
he is a generous master to his servants, and rewards
them in a way of grace, in a manner that is often
surprising. If he takes care of widows and fatherless
children in general, how  confidently may those
expect his kind interposition, who belonged to his
own servants? Go then with humble boldness to the
Lord Jesus, carry your children in the arms of your
faith, place them in his presence, and say with all
reverence and humility, but with all confidence,
" Behold the childen of thy departed servant."
Remember that more is expected from you than
from others. The widow of a minister should be
an example to all widows. Col. Hutchinson, when
taking. leave of his wife, admonished her not to forget
her standing, and to mourn as a woman of no ordinary character How suitable is this to the widow




EXAMPLES.                  137
of a teacher of religion; and how much does it
become her to show, by the manner in which she
bears his death, how well she had profited by the
instructions of his life. His sermons on submission
to the will of God, should all appear embodied in her
meek and pious resignation.
If there are sources of pain, peculiar to the widow
of a minister, there are also sources of comfort. The
memory of such a man is blessed. You were the
companion of one who wore out life, not in amassing
wealth, but in winning souls to God: not in enriching himself with filthy lucre, but in conferring upon
others, imperishable wealth. Look back upon his
holy and useful career. Call to recollection his labours
for Christ: his trials and discouragements; his joys
and successes. Think how he served his master, and
how his master honoured him; with what untiring
zeal, amidst what self-denial, and with what result,
he pursued his holy calling. Dwell upon his blameless character, his spotless reputation, and the esteem
in which he was held by the churches of Christ.
Remember how often he prayed rather to die than
be permitted to live and sin. He was faithful unto
death, and laid down his office, only with his life.
None blush for him, but all weep for themselves,
before his monument. Even the tongue of slander
is silent at that hallowed spot, and dares not utter in
whisper a single insinuation. Oh this is a balm to a
widow's heart. And then look at the fruits of his
ministry. Some have preceded him to glory, and are
12*




138             SCRIPTURE.
his joy and crown of rejoicing in the presence of
Christ, while others are following him on to add new
gems to his diadem, and new delights to him that is
to wear it. Dwell not only on what he was, and"
what he is, but on what you were to him: how you
aided him in his ministry; not indeed by writing oi
preaching his sermons, but by sustaining that noble
heart, which dictated all his labours, and by the
impulses and energies of which all were sustained.
Call to recollection, how he reposed in your faithful
bosom the cares of office, and asked your counsels
amidst its intricacies; how when he came home
agitated and perplexed, you calmed the perturbations
of his spirit; how when discouraged, you cheered
him; how you suggested to him subjects for his
pulpit ministrations, which had occurred to you in
your own meditations, and which thus became the
means in his lips of saving souls from death; how
you-aided him in his visitations and ministrations to
the sick, the poor, and distressed; and how by your
earn'est prayers, you brought down upon his labours
the dew of heaven; and thus, by all these means,
were a help meet for him in his high embassy to a
revolted world. These efforts, it is sadly true, are
all suspended by his death, but to have made them
is a precious remembrance. Such recollections fall
not to the lot of ordinary women, and ought to be a
balm for your wounded heart.
If you are happy amidst the people to whom your
husband ministered, remain where you are; linger




EXAMPLES.                139
still at the pulpit in which he laboured, and at the
grave where he sleeps: if they love his memory, and
are kind to you and your children for your own
sakes, as well as for his, where can you be more
happy on earth, than in the scene of nis living exertions and in the vicinity of his tomb. Where will
his precious name be so frequently and so respectfully
mentioned, and where will sympathy be so fully felt
and so tenderly expressed, as among the people of his
charge. But, then, let wisdom and circumspection
characterise your conduct. A minister's widow has
sometimes aided, not a little, to disquiet the mind of
his successor, and to trouble the circle of his friends.
Excite no suspicions, awaken no jealousies, institute
no comparisons. Do not wish for influence; be not
the centre of a party; attempt not to guide the
opinions of others; and avoid all private interference
and meddling with church affairs. The importance
of this, is in exact proportion to the esteem in which
you are held. There are few women so weak, as to
have no power to do mischief, for it is surprising and
grievous to find what insignificance, when combined
with restlessness, and a meddling propensity, may be
a source of annoyance, and a cause of disquiet, especially in small communities. In some cases where
for instance, there may not be the best understanding,
nor much good feeling, between the widow and the
flock; or where a part only of that flock might
happen to be attached to her, and not equally attached to the new pastlr and his wife; prudence and




140             SCRIPTURE
propriety combine to make it her duty, if not prevented by circumstances, to retire. It is a deep blot
on the christian reputation of any minister's widow
to remain in a church, only to be a nucleus of
dissatisfaction and discontent, and to aid in disturbing, perhaps, dividing the society, whose peace, was
one great object of her husband's life.
After all, however, it must be confessed, that
where the widow and family of a minister, meet with
neglect, from the congregation, in which he laboured,
and some such cases do occur, both in the Church of
England, and amongst the Dissenters, the fault is, in
many cases, to be traced up to a want of generosity
on the part of the people.




'Ex  AIMPLES.                141
CHAPTER IV.
THE WIDOW  CASTING IN HER TWO  MIITES INTO THE
TREASURY.
Illustrating  the character of the poor but liberal
widow.
"And Jesus sat over against the treasury, and beheld how
the people cast money into the treasury: and many that
were rich cast in much. And there came a certain poor
widow and she threw in two mites, which make a farthing.
And he called unto him his disciples, and saith unto them,
Verily I say unto you, that this poor widow hath cast
more.:1, than all they which have cast into the treasury:
for all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her
want did cast in all that she had, even all her living."Mark xii. 41-44.
THE treasury here spoken of, we should suppose,
was a large chest fixed near the entrance to the
temple and divided into different compartments, for




il42             CHRISTIAN
receiving the offerings of the people. These were
appropriated to the purpose for which the donor
presented them; some for the repairs of the building;
others for the expences of public worship; and some,
perhaps for the relief of the poor. The chest was
well placed. Piety and liberality should be always
associated. Piety should stimulate charity; charity
should be the fruit of piety. On one occasion, Christ
placed himself opposite this receptacle of benevolence,
to watch the offerings of the people. The affluent
passed on and deposited their wealth; for " they cast
in mauch."  This is so far to their credit; they who
possess much, should give much. God expects it,
yea, demands it. Among the richer worshippers
came one who united in her circumstances the double
affliction of poverty and widowhood. She, of course,
will offer nothing. She needs to receive, rather than
to impart. All she has to bestow, it may be presumed, is her good wishes. But, no; her hand is
not empty. She drops two mites-a farthing. Perhaps the smallness of the sum excited a smile of
contempt from some proud proprietor, as he followed
her, and magnified, by contrast, the amount of his
own contribution. But there was another eye that
watched the widow's offering, and another mind that
drew a contrast. And Christ called his disciples
unto him and said, "Verily I say unto you, that this
poor widow hath cast more in, than all they which
have cast into the treasury." Yes, there is the scale
on which the Saviour estimates the amount of our




EX A.IPLES.               143
zontribut;o is to the cause of religion and humanity;
not. abstractly by the sum given, but by the sum
given in proportion to the wealth possessed. A mite
from one, is vastly, incalculably more, than a pound
from another. Much and little, are relative terms.
That would be munificence in one, which would be
niggardliness in another. No commendation had been
pronounced on the gifts of the wealthy; for they
had, perhaps, after all, given little compared with
what they retained; but this widow's offering has
irnmortalised her. She gave all she had. We do
not stay to enquire about the prudence of her contribution, whether it was proper to bestow her last
farthing; doubtless there were some circumstances
in her case which justified the act, and with which
the Saviour was acquainted. There were, perhaps,
no needy children, whose wants should have reminded her that charity begins at home: perhaps it was
a thank-offering for some special mercy received;
some gracious support in one of those troubles, which
widows, and especially poor widows, only' know. At
any rate, the gift and its principle, attracted the notice, and drew forth the eulogy of the Saviour. It
was but a farthing, but that farthing was as much a
manifestation of her disposition, as David's almost
countless amount of gold, was of his.
Our Lord Jesus Christ still holds his seat opposite
the treasury of the temple, and watches from his
throne in heaven, the offerings of those who give to
the cause of religion aDd humanity. His celestial




~144             SCRIPTURE
glory has diminished nothing of his condescending
regard to the beneficence of his people. It should
be our aim in all the good we do, to approve ourselves to his all-seeing eye, both by the purity of our
motives, and the amount of our donations. Alas,
what are we the better for the notice of those
perishing and impotent eyes, which can only view
the outside of our actions; or for that word of applause which vanisheth on the lips of the speaker?
Thine eye, 0 Lord, is piercing and retributive. As
to see thee, is perfect happiness, so to be seen of
thee, is true contentment and glory.
It may be fairly inferred from this passage, that
the Lord Jesus, while he beholds with favour the
gifts of all, receives with special acceptance the
offerings of the poor widow. It. is often the sorrow
of such, in this age of christian missions, that they
cannot share in the glorious undertaking of converting the world to Christ. In happier times, when
the canale of the Lord shone in their tabernacle, and
the light of prosperity irradiated their path, they too
had something to give, and delighted to give it, to
pour the blessings of salvation on this dark earth:
but now they feel shut out from the feast of benevolence, and denied all fellowship in the great work
of evangelising the nations; for they have nothing
to give. Nothing? "Nothing," you reply, "worth
my giving, or any society's receiving!" Is that the
language of pride, despondency, or parsimony? Can
you no' then, stoop to give a penny, after you have




EXAMPLES.                  145
nad the privilege of giving a pound? Do you blush
to offer the copper, after the silver and gold have
glittered in your hand, as you approached the treasury?  0 woman, cast away that feeling, and carry
your two mites, and if given "with a glad heart
and free," that little offering will draw upon it a
more benignant smile from the Lord of all, than
ever he bestowed upon your costlier gifts in the
days of your prosperity. If you'are ashamed to
give it, he is not ashamed to receive it, nor backward to reward it. Ashamed of your little! Why
it is relatively more than the hundreds of the rich.
It is all self-denal, and sacrifice, and generous zeal.
" In the obscurity of retirement, amid the squalid
poverty, and thb, revolting privations of a cottage, it
has often been my lot to witness scenes of magnanimity and self denial, as much beyond the belief, as
the practice of the great; an heroism borrowing no
support, either from the gaze of the many, or the
admiration of the few, yet, flourishing amidst ruins,
and on the confines of the grave; a spectacle. as
stupendouq in the moral world, as the falls of the
Missouri,. in the natural; and like that mighty cataract, doomed to display its grandeur, only where
there Pre no eyes to apprehend its magnificence."
Yes, there is an eye that looks on both, but with
more admiration -on the little offering of benevolence
that drops unheeded and unheard by man, into the
receptacle of mercy, than on the river that falls with
the roar of thunder into the basin of its mighty,




146               SCRIPTURE
waters.  Think  of aged widows sacrificing the
sugar of their tea, and poor men giving up the small
portion of their beverage at dinner, to save a mite
or two for the missionary cause: 0 how little are
the offerings of the rich, though the announcement
of their hundreds from the platform makes the
building to shake with applause, compared wNith the
penny of such self-denying friends to the cause as
these, but whose contributions find their way in
silence, to the mighty agregate of funds. Ashamed,
my friends! Your mites are the richest trophies
of your cause; and if it were possible to divide the
results of our success, and apportion so much usefulness to each particular contribution of property,
we should find, peAhaps, the richest allotment assigned to the widow's farthing.
Is there a less worthy motive, that holds back
your slender offering? Is there a feeling of grudging? A reasoning in this strain,-" Surely they cannot take the poor widow's penny for the cause of
missions." Certainly not, unless she feels it to be
one of poverty's deepest woes, to have nothing to
give to such an object, and would esteem herself
unhappy, if her little contributions were despised.
Have you nothzng then to give for widows poorer
than yourself?  "Poorer than myself," you exclaim, in a tone of indignant surprise, "who can be
poorer than I am?" I answer, the Pagan woman,
left forlorn and desolate, without a Bible, a sabbath,
oera minister, to direct her to the widow's God: and




EXAMPLES.                 147
there are millions of such. You have the g.Aspel,
which abolishes death, and brings life and immortality to light. You can look beyond the grave, and
see the orb of celestial day rising in majesty before
the eye of Christian hope, and gilding with his
glorious effulgence, the dark clouds which collect
over the valley of the shadow of death. You hear
voices of joy, and sounds of life, floating like heavenly music, over the still chambers of mortality. In
pity, then, to those who clasp the urn in silent
despair, give a little, even of your little, to send them
the gospel, which keeps you from sorrowing as
others which have no hope. Have compassion on
the widows that sit down by the grave of a husband, who has gone away in the darkness of paganism, or who still, in some parts of India, are
doomed to mingle their ashes with his, in that funeral pile, the flame of which is kindled by the hand
of a first-born son. Is there not, then, a widow far
more wretched than yourself, for vhom the scant
penny of poverty, or the two mitper ct all but absolute Jeslltution, should be consecr.?''" God.




148                SCRIPTUILR
CHAPTER V.
WIDOW OF NAIN.
Addressed to Widows who are called to lose thae
Children also.
And it came to pass the day after, that he went into a city
called Nain; and many of. his disciples went with him,
and much people. Now when he came nigh to the gate of
the city, behold there was a dead man carried out, the
only son of his mother, and she was a widow: and much
people of the city was with her. And when the Lord saw
her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep
not. And he came and touched the bier; and they that
bore him stood still. And he said, Young man, I say
unto thee, arise. And he that was dead sat up, and began
to speak. And he delivered him to his mother."-Luke,
vii. 11-15.
TEIE mercy of Christ, as it never wanted objects
t this sorrowful world, so it was never wearied in
relieving them. One day he healed the servant of




EXAMPLES.                  149
*he centur-on, upon being earnestly solicited to do it,
to show what efficacy there is in the prayer of faith;
the next, he restored to life the son of a widow,
without being asked, to demonstrate his sovereignty
in the bestowment of his favours. One act of beneficence seemed only to make him more ready and
more willing to perform another; in this also he is
an example to his people, who are not to satisfy
themselves with any measure of good works.
But let us attend to the present instance of his
miraculous kindness. As he drew near to a small
town called Nain, a funeral procession was coming
out at the gate, and was slowly moving towards the
place of sepultuie, which, with the Jews, was always without the walls of their cities. It was not
accidental that the Saviour came up just at that
time, but was ordered for the glory of God. Here
was a spectacle to move a harder heart than that
of Christ. The victirri of death was in this instance, a young man, cut off in the flower of his
age, and on that account, a loss to society, but a still
heavier loss to that venerable form, which, with the
attire of a widow, as well as the low moans of a bereaved mother, is following the corpse to its last
home.  It is a short, but simply touching narrative, which the historian gives, "Behold, there
was a dead man carried out, the only son of his
mother, and she was a widow." When the scripture would conevy the most impressive idea of the
depth of human sorrow, it uses this form of speech,
13*




150              SCRIPTURE
"As one that is in bitterness for an ony son."
There it is before us, in that forlorn widow. It is
afflictive to see a loving couple following an only
child to the grave; but then, they consider, as with
tearful eyes they look upon each, that there might
have been a grief still harder to be borne, than even
this. "Thank God," they exclaim, "we are spared
to each other," and thus they find, even at the
opening grave of an only child, a supporting thought
in the presence of each other. But here is a case in
which there is no one to share the grief, and support the fainting heart of this sorrowful woman:
her husband is already in the grave, and her son,
her only son, is about to be laid on the coffin of his
father. At this juncture the Son of God drew
nigh:
His heart is made of tenderness,
His bowels melt with love.
The widow's sorrows touched that heart: and he
said to her, "Woman, weep not."  Oh if she was
not too much absorbed in grief to him, what must
she have thought of such an injunction: " Who has
cause to weep if it is not I. If tears are ever in
season, they are now. Stranger cease to taunt me
with such an exhortation, unless you can restore to
my widowed arms, the child  that lies sleeping
there in death." She knew not who it was that
spoke to her, but she shall soon know to her unutterable joy. As the Lord of life and death he




EXAirP LES.,51
arrests the coffin, and frees the prisoner.' Young
man, I say unto thee, arise."  That is the v;.lce that
shall one day burst every tomb, call up our vanished
bodies, from those elements into which they are resolved, and raise them out of their beds of dust, to
glory, honour, and immortality. The grave shall
restore all it receives, whether that grave be in the
sea, in the dry land, in the forest, the wilderness,
or in the crowded cemetery. "Why should it be
thought a thing incredible that God shall raise the
dead?"  It is no harder for the Almighty word,
which gave being unto all things, to say, "Let
them be restored," then "let them be made." The
sleeping youth obeyed the mandate, rose upon the
bier, cast off his grave clothes, descended, and threw
himself into the arms of his astonished, enraptured,
and overwhelmed mother. Blessed type of that
wondrous scene just alluded to, when at the sound
of the last trumpet, this mortal shall put on immortality, and this corruptible shall put on incorruption, and death shall be swallowed up in victory.
I attempt not, for who could succeed in the effort,
to pourtray the mother's joy, and her renewed iritercourse with her lost child: all she could find composure enough to say, was "Rojoice with me, for
this my son was dead, and is alive again!"
I now turn to those who are appointed to bear like
sorrows, without the immediate prospect, or the hope'of her relief; I mean those widows, and such there
are, who have been called to part from an only child




152              SC RIPT JRE.
Forlorn, indeed, is your situation-desolate your
house —bereaved your heart of its last earthly hope.
Not to sympathise with you, not to concede the
greatness of your calamity, would be the most cruel
insensibility, such as I pray God to preserve me from.
But stop, is all dead? Your husband is dead, your
parents are dead, your children are dead-but is not
God alive-is not Christ alive-is not the bible alive?
Has the tomb swallowed up all? No. Be this your
exultation, "He lives and blessed be my rock, and
let the God of my salvation be exalted." True, you
cannot expect that the power of Christ will be
exerted, at leastj till the resurrection, to call your only
child from the grave: but the same heart that pitied
the widow of Nain, pities you. Jesus sees you as
certainly, and compassionates you as tenderly as he
did her, although his compassion may not be exerted
in precisely the same manner.
Perhaps that only son was the last thing that stood
between you and the Saviour to detain your heart
from him. You had not been weaned from the world
till he was taken. You still sought your happiness
on earth. Your whole soul was bound up in that
child. Even for God and Christ, you had no supreme
love, while he lived: and as there was a purpose o!
eternal mercy to be fulfilled, by the death of that
child, it pleased God to remove him. You would
not come to Christ while that obstacle was in the
way, and therefore God displaced it: now, the way
to the cross is all clear. The Saviour has come to




EXAMrLES.                 153
the widow, not indeed to raise her son, but to save
het soul: not to say to him, " Arise young man;" but
to say to you, "Arise, and be saved."  If by the loss
6f your only son, you should gain the salvation of
your immortal soul, you will find a present solace for
your sorrows, and an eternal source of gratitude that
they were sent.
But what are you to do without him? Let God
answer that question; "I will never leave thee, nor
forsake thee." Your child was.your comforter. Be
it so: but is there not a divine comforter, who frequently reserves his choicest consolations, for the
most disconsolate seasons.  Your son was your
support. This, I admit, is trying to faith and confidence in God. A dependant widow, to lose the only
child on whom she leaned Pfr support, seems the last
extremity of human destitution. It is in such extremities God loves to put forth his power. He often
brings us into a very wilderness, to show us his own
all-sufficiency. He strips us of the last comfort, and
then says to us, " Now trust in me for every thing."
There are other considerations which should
induce submission even to your melancholy lot.
Heavy trials are sometimes sent to prevent heavier
ones still. There are calamities, worse than death;
either our own death, or the death of our nearest
friends. It is better to die in honour, than to live in
sin and disgrace. How many widows are'there
whose only sons are breaking their mother's hearts
by their misconduct? Is not many a mother at this




154              SCRIPTURE
moment exclaiming thus, in her solitude, "0 my
child, would God the grave had covered thee, whilst
thou wert yet in reputation, and comparative innocence! Alas! that thou shouldest have lived to diisgrace thyself, and bring down thy widowed mother's
grey hairs in sorrow to the grave!"
I remember to have read, or heard somewhere, the
following anecdote. A widowed mother had an only
son, who while yet a youth, was seized with an
alarming illness. Her heart was in the greatest
tumult of grief at the prospect of his removal. She
sent for her minister to pray for her child's recovery.
It was his preservation from death that was to be
the subject of the minister's petitions, rather than the
mother's submission to the will of God. Like a
faithful pastor, he begged her to controul her excessive grief and solicitude, and resign her son to God's
disposal: but to no avail: it seemed as if she neither
could nor would give him up. Prayer was to pluck
him from the borders of the grave, whether God
were willing to spare him or not. H-ler son lived:
the mother with ecstatic joy, received him back, as
from the borders of the tomb. He grew to adult age;
but it was to die in circumstances ten thousand times
more afflictive to the mother's heart, than his earlier
removal would have been. As he came to manhood
he turned out profligate, extravagant, dishonest. His
crimes became capital; he was detected, tried, convicted, and sentenced to be hanged: and seven years
frorn the day when that minister prayed for his life,




EX A MPILES.              155
he had to visit this wretched mother, to De with her,
and comfort her, if, indeed, her heart could receive
consolation, on the day of his execution. Oh! widow
is there not a heavier calamity than the death, in
ordinary circumstances, of an only son? I would not
for a moment suggest that it is probable your son
would have come to this: but it is possible: or if not
to this, yet to something that would have embittered
all your future days. Would not this distressed
woman, look with envy upon others whose children
had died in honour and reputation, and think their
affliction not worthy of the name, compared with
hers? Would she not look back with deep compunction upon her own rebellious grief and unwillingness
to give up her child at the will of God?
Before I close this chapter, I would suggest, that
as the death of an only child removes from your
widowed heart, the last hope or object of a terrestrial
nature, that seemed to give interest to earth, or occupation upon it, you should look for objects of another
kind: even such as are spiritual, heavenly, and
divine. Seek, then, not only for a richer enjoyment
of personal religion, as the chief source of consolation, but cherish a warmer zeal for its diffusion, as
the bes: and happiest occupation that can employ
your faculties, or your time. Now that God has
taken from you your son, adopt the cause of his Son.
Consecrate yourself afresh to the interests of evangelical piety. What have you now to do on earth;
what is letf- for you to do; what can you find to do;




156              SCRIPTURE
but diffuse by your property, if you possess much,
and by your personal labours, if you are in health, the
benefits of the gospel, the blessings of salvation, to
those who are destitute of them? Live, now, wholly
for God, and the salvation of the human race. Soften
the weight of your cross, ky making known the glory
of the cross of Christ. Instead of retiring into seclusion, to nourish woe, to leave your sorrow to prey
upon your heart, or to let life fret itself away amidst
the indolence of grief, rouse your spirit for holy
action. Let your loss be the gain of others, by your
employing your leisure for their benefit. Freed from
every tie that bound your soul to personal or relative
objects, feel at liberty for doing good to others.
Active benevolence is the best balm for such wounds
as yours. Allow yourself no leisure for dark and
melancholy thoughts to collect, or for busy memory
to torment you with distressing recollections. Your
departed child wants not your property; give it to
God; nor your time, nor your solicitude; give them
to God. In pitying the sorrows of others, you will
find a sweet solace for your own. Occupy your lone
heart, and hours as lonely as your heart, with schemes
of mercy, and purposes of beneficence. If your affliction shall lead to such a result, you may then say of
active benevolence, that it is one ofThe best reliefs that mourners have,
And makes their sorrows blest.




EXAMPLES.                     157
CHAPTER VI
ANNA  THE PROPIIETESS.
A pattern for aged widows.
And there was one Anna, a prophetess, the daughter of
Phanuel, of the tribe of Aser: she was of a great age, and
had lived with an husband seven years from her virginity;
and she was a widow of about fourscore and four years,
which departed not from the temple, but served God with
fastings and prayers night and day. And she coming in
that instant, gave thanks likewise unto the Lord, and
spake of him to all them that looked for redemption in
Jerusalem. Andl when they had performed all things
according to the law of the Lord, they returned into Galilee,
to their own city Nazareth.  And the child grew, and
waxed strong in spirit, filled with wisdom; and the grace
of God was upon him. Now his parents went to Jerusalem
every year at the feast of the Passover.'-Luke ii. 36-41.
THE Holy Spirit of God, while he passes over in
silence the names of mighty kings and potentates,
14




158              SCRIPTURE
with all their civil and military achievements, their
battles and their victories, writes the life, and pronounces the eulogy of a poor and pious aged widow
of whom  the world knew little and cared less, t'
preserve her memory to the end of time, and to show
how grateful to him such a kind of life is. Anna was
one among the few who, in that dark degenerate age,
preserved the light of true piety from being quite
extinct, and who waited for the consolation of Israel.
Having lost her husband, after a short union of seven
years, she continued a widow ever afterwards; and
was eighty-four years of age at the time of our Lord's
birth. Gifted with the spirit of prophecy, she delivered the messages of God to the few who were
disposed to receive them, and spake of Him that was
to come, who should bring deliverance for his people.
Her abode was in one of the dwellings which surrounded the temple, and her sole employment devotion. She had long been dead to the world, and the
world to her; and, with her heart in heaven, she had
neither interest nor hope upon earth. It was her
privilege, as it was of good old Simeon, before she
closed her eyes on things terrestrial, to see Him of
whom  the prophets'spake.  Ilaving uttered her
gratitude that the light had not departed from her
eyes, till she had seen the Lord, she confessed him
before others, and commended him to their regards.
Happy saint, to see this new-born Saviour as the star
of thy evening; thou hast lived to good purpose, in
thus having thy existence prolonged, to welcome to




EXAMPLES.                 159
our world, him who came to be ts Rcdeemer: and
now what can induce, wish to remain longer from
thy Father's house? Thou mayest be willing to lay
down thy tabernacle and thy widowhood, and go to
that world, where thou shall flourish in the vigour of
immortal youth.
And now, leaving Anna, I turn to the aged widow,
who has little to do but to wait and watch for the
coming of her Lord. Mother in Israel, I address you
with sentiments of reverent respect, while I. call
upon you to indulge the reflections, and perform the
duties, appropriate to your circumstances.  Your
age, connected with your widowhood, renders you
an object of deep interest. You have outlived, not
only the husband, but the friends, of your youth. As
regards those who started with you in life, you are
alone in the world; and you sometimes feel a sadness
come over you, because there are none who can talk
with you of the scenes of your childhood and youth,
which are as a tale written only in your own memory.
Spend the evening of your days, in adoring the God
that has kept you thus long, and in admiring the
varied displays of his attributes, and the rich and
seasonable communications of his grace, which it has
been your privilege to enjoy. From what dangers
he has rescued you-amidst what temptations he
has succored you-through what difficulties he has
conducted you-under what trials he has supported
you-and what mercies he has showered upon you,
during a widowhood of thirty, forty, or fifty years!




160              SCRIPTURE
How much of his power, wisdom, patience, faithfulness, and love, have you seen in all these varied
scenes, through which you have been called to pass
Let it be the employment and delight of your soul,
in the long evening of your life, to retrace, with
gratitude and admiration, the wondrous course and
journey of your existence. When by infirmity of
body, you are shut out from the public ordinances of
religion, and the communion of the saints; when
through failing sight you can no longer read the
Word of God, and you can only think upon its contents, dwell upon the past with thanksgiving and love.
When you became a widow, perhaps early in life, you
trembled, and asked, "How am I to be sustained?"
and lo! there you are, a widow of three-score years
and ten, or fourscore, acknowledging to the glory of
God, that he has never left you, nor forsaken you.
And now, during the remainder of your days, and
of your widowhood, withdraw your regards from this
world, and prepare for that glory, on the verge of
which you are now living. Almost every tie to
earth is cut, or hangs very loose about your heart.
Heaven has been accumulating its treasures, and
multiplying its attractions for many years, and earth
growing poorer and poorer, till one should suppose it
has scarcely any thing now left to imake you, as you
retire from it, cast one lingering longing look behind.
Let it b)e seen. that you are dwelling on the border
land, waiting and longing to pass over. Let it not
distress you, if you cannot be so vigorous in ths




EXAiMP LES.               161
service of God, as you once were. Do not be cast
down, if you cannot hear with the same attentionpray with the same.length, fixedness of thought, and
fervour of emotion; or that you cannot remember
with tihe same power and accuracy, as you once did.
It is the decay of nature, rather than the decline of
grace, and your divine Lord, will make the same
kind excuse for you, which he once did for his slumbering disciples, and say, "The spirit indeed is
willing, but the flesh is weak."  Be it your aim, in a
peculiar sense, to live by faith. You must have been
long since weaned, or ought to have been, from
living upon frames and feelings. Your frames and
feelings have far less of liveliness than they once had,
and you must be brought to a simpler and firmer
reliance upon the faithfulness and unchangeableness
of God. You must rest upon the simple promise, and
rely upon the pure and unmixed word. Aged saint,
believe, believe: hold on to the end by faith. By
faith lay hold of God's strength, to support your
faltering steps, and sustain you to the end.
Be as cheerful as you can, for the smiles of an
aged christian, happy in the Lord, are as beautiful as
the oblique rays of the setting sun, of a midsummer's
day. Yes, though an aged widow, apparently forlorn
and desolate, send forth notes of cheerful praise.
Like good old Anna, who when she came in and saw
the Lord, gave thanks, and spake of Christ to those
around; so do you. Encourage the younger widows
to put their trust in God. Tell them how he has ap.
14*




162             SCRIPTURE
peared for you. Bear testimony for him, and remind
them he is the same yesterday, to-day and for ever.
Let it appear to all who come round you, that
though God sees fit to detain you upon earth, your
affections have gone on before you into heaven;
that your heart is dead, though your body lives;
that though you are willing to wait all the days of
your appointed time, till your change comes, that
still the coming of the change will be a joyful
moment.  It is an unseemly sight, to behold an
aged widow clinging to earth, even when its attractions, one should think, are gone; and loving
the world, when its charms are all faded, and it is
but the skeleton of what it was.
But, at the same time, let there be no impatience
to be gone. Your husband is dead; perhaps your
children also, and there be few in whom' your heart
takes a deep interest. You can see no reason why
you should linger and. loiter another hour in the
world, which is one vast sepulchre, where all that
was dear to you lies buried, and why, therefore,
should such a tomb be your dwelling-place? Just
because it is God's will to keep you here.  Let
there be no peevish wishes after death-no querulous
complaints of life.  It may be you are dependent,
and are afraid you are burden to your friends; and
this adds to your impatience to be gone-but strive
against it. God loves his children too well to keep
them one moment longer from his house and home
above, than is best for his glory and their happiness,




THIRD PART.
LETTERS TO AND FROM WIDOWS.
LETTERS TO WIDOWS.
THE first v:hich I shall introduce is an extract of
a letter from the Rev. John Howe, to Lady Rachel
Russell, shortly after the execution of her husband.
The whole letter is too long for insertion, but is
well worthy of perusal, being one of the noblest and
most pathetic pieces of epistolary composition in our
language.
" MADAM,
*  * *  "It is, then, upon the whole, most
manifest, that no temporary affliction whatsoever,
upon one who stands in special relation to God, as
a reconciled (and which is consequent an adopted)
person, though attended with the most aggravating
circumstances, can justify such a sorrow, so deep or
so continued, as shall prevail against, and shut opt
a religious holy joy, or hinder it from being the




164             LETTERS TO
vailing principle in such a one. What can make
that sorrow allowable or innocent, what event of
Providence, (that can, whatever it is, be no other
than an accident to our Christian state,) that shall
resist the most natural design and end of christianity
itself? that shall deprave and debase the truly
Christian temper, and disobey and violate most express Christian precepts? subvert the constitution
of Christ's kingdom among men, and turn this earth
(the place of God's treaty with the inhabitants of
it, in order to their reconciliation to himself, and to
the reconciled, the portal and gate of heaven; yea,
and where the state of the very worst and most
miserable has some mixture of good in it, that
makes the evil of it less than that of hell) into a
mere hell to themselves, of sorrow without mixture, and wherein shall be nothing but weeping and
wailing.
The cause of your sorrow, madam, is exceeding
great. The causes of your joy are inexpressibly
greater. You have infinitely more left than you
have lost. Doth it need to be disputed whether
God be better and greater than man? or more to
be valued, loved, and delighted in? and whether
an eternal relation be more considerable than a temporary one? Was it not your constant sense in your
beat outward state?' Whom have I in heaven but
thee, 0 God; and whom can I desire on earth in
comparison of thee!' Herein the state of your ladyship's ease is still the same, (if,ou cannot rathei




WIDOWS.                   165
with greater clearness, and with less hesitation pronounce those latter words). The principal causes
of your joy are immutable, such as no supervening
thing can altar. You have lost a most pleasant,
delectable earthly relative. Doth the blessed God
hereby cease to be the best and most excellent good?
Is his nature changed? his everlasting covenant reversed and annulled? which' is ordered in all things
and sure,' and is to be all your salvation and all your
desire,'whether he make your house on earth to
grow or not to grow.' That sorrow which exceeds
the proportion of its cause, compared with the remaining true and real causes of rejoicing, is, in that
excess, causeless; that is, that excess of it wants a
cause such as can justify or afford defence unto it.
"Such as he hath pardoned, accepted, and prepared for himself, are to serve and glorify him in an
higher and more excellent capacity, than they ever
could in this wretched world of ours, and wherein they have themselves the highest satisfaction.
When the blessed God is pleased in having attained
and accomplished the end and intendments of his
own boundless love, too great to be satisfied with
the conferring, of only temporary favours in this imperfect state, and they are pleased in partaking the
full effects of that love; who are we, that we should
be displeased? or that we should oppose our satis.
faction to that of the glorious God, and his glorified
creature? Therefore, madam, whereas you cannot




166              LETTERS TO
avoid to think much on this subject, and to have the
removal of that imcomparable person, for a great
theme of your thoughts, I do only propose most
humbly to your honour, that you would not confine
them  to the sadder and darker part of that theme.
It Lath also a bright side; and it equally belongs to
it, to consider whither he is gone, and to whom, as
whence and from whom.  Let, I beseech you, your
nind be more exercised in contemplating the glories
of that state your blessed consort is translated unto,
which will mingle pleasure and sweetness with the
bitterness of your afflicting loss, by giving you a
daily intellectual participation, through the exercise
of faith and hope, in his enjoyments. He cannot descend to share with you in your sorrows; you may
thus every day ascend and partake with him in his
joys. He is a pleasant subject to consider. A prepared spirit made meet for an inheritance with them
that are sanctified, and with the saints in light, now
entered into a state so con-natural, and wherein it
finds every thing most agreeable to itself. How
highly grateful is it to be united with the true centre, and to come home to the Father of spirits! To
consider how pleasant a welcome, how joyful an
entertainment he hath met with above! How delighted an associate he is with the general assembly, the innumerable company of angels, and the
spirits of just men made perfect! How joyful an
homage he continually I'ays to the throne of the
celestial King




WIDOWS.                 167
"Will your ladyship think that an hard saying
of our departing Lord to his mournful disciples,' If
ye loved me, ye would rejoice, that I said I go to
the Father; for my Father is greater than I?' As
if he had said, he sits enthroned in higher glory than
you tan frame any conception of, by beholding me
in so mean a condition on earth. We are as remote, and as much short in, our thoughts as to the
conceiving the glory of the supreme King, as a peasant, who never saw any thing'better than his own
cottage, from conceiving the splendour of the most
glorious prince's court. But if that faith, which is
the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence
of things not seen, be much accustomed to its proper
work and busin:css-the daily delightful visiting and
viewing the glorious invisible regions; if it be often
conversant in those vast and spacious tracts of pure
and brightest light, and amongst the holy inhabitants
that replenish them; if it frequently employs itself
in contemplating their comely order, perfect harmony, sublime wisdom, unspotted purity, most fervent mutual love, delicious conversation with one
another, and perpetual pleasant consent in their
adoration and observance of their eternal King! who
is there to whom it would not be a solace to think I
have such and such friends and relatives, some, perhaps, as dear as my own life, perfectly well pleased,
and happy'among them!  How can your love,
madam-so generous a love towards so deserving
an object! —how can it but more fervently sparkle




168             LETTERS O70
in joy, for his sake, than dissolve in tears for your
own?
" Nor should such thoughts -excite over-hasty impatient desires of following presently into heaven,
but to the endeavours of serving God more cheerfully on earth for our appointed time: which I
earnestly desire your ladyship would apply yourself
to, as you would not displease God, who is your
only hope, nor be cruel to yourself, nor dishonour
the religion of Christians, as if they had no other
consolations than this earth can give, and earthly
power take from them. Your ladyship (if any one)
would be loth to do any thing unworthy of your
family and parentage. Your highest alliance is to
that Father and family above, whose dignity and
honour are, I doubt not, of highest account with
you.
"I multiply words, being loth to lose my design;
and shall only add that consideration which cannot
but be valuable with you upon his first proposal,
who had all the advantages imaginable to give it
its full weight; I mean that of those dear pledges
left behind. My own heart even bleeds to think of
the case of those sweet babes, should they be bereaved of their other parent too. And even your
continued visible dejection would be their unspeakable disadvantage. You will always naturally create
in themn a reverence of you: and I cannot but apprehend how the constant mien, aspect, and deportment of such a parent will insensibly influence the




WIDO WS.                169
temper of dutiful children; and, if that be sad and
despondent, depress their spirits, blunt and take off the
edge and quickness upon which their future usefulness
and comfort will much depend. Were it possible
their now glorious father should visit and inspect
you, would you not be troubled to behold a frown in
that bright serene face? You are to please a more
penetrating eye, which you will best do by putting
on a temper and deportment suitable to your weighty
charge and duty; and to the great purposes for which
God continues you in the world, by giving over unnecessary solitude and retirement, which, though it
pleases, doth really prejudice you, and is more than
you can bear. Nor can any rules of decency require
more. Nothing that is necessary and truly Christain, ought to be reckoned unbecoming. David's
example is of too great authority to be counted a
pattern of indecency. The God of heaven lift up
the light of his countenance upon you, and thereby
put.gladness into your heart; and give you to apprehend him saying to you, "Arise and walk in the
light of the Lord.'"
I shall next introduce two of the most extraordinary letters to be found in the page of history,
both of which evince such a triumph of faith over
the feelings of humanity, as to be admirably adapted
to instruct and comfort all that mourn.
The Rev. Christopher Love, was a Presbyterian
minister during the Commonwealth, a member of
15




170             LETTERS TO
the Westminster Assembly of Divines, and one of
the London ministers who united in a protest against
the death of Charles the First. He was afterwards
engaged, with mary others, in a scheme. to forward
the return of Charles the Second to England. Al;
correspondence with the exiled monarch, having been
declared treason by the Act of Parliament, Mr. Love,
upon the detection of the plot, was tried, convicted,
and condemned as a traitor. In his conduct, whatever might be thought of it by others, he was
influenced by conscientious motives, fbr all accounts
concur, in bearing testimony to his character as an
eminent christian. Great intercessions were made
to the Parliament for the preservation of his life.
These all failed, and he was beheaded on Tower Hill.
On the day before his death, his wife addressed to
him the following letter:-*
"' My heavenly dear,
" I call thee so, because God hath put
heaven into thee before he hath taken thee to heaven.
Thou now beholdest God, Christ, and glory, as in a
glass; but to-morrow heaven's gates will be opened,
and thou shalt be in the full enjoyment of all. those
glories which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,
neither can the heart of man understand. God hath
now swallowed up thy heart in the thoughts of
*Lives o the Puritans, by Rev. B. Brook, vol. iii. p. 129-.'Qa2.




WIDOWS.                  171
heaven; but ere long thou shalt be swallowed up in
the enjoyment of heaven! And no marvel there
should be such quietness and calmness in thy spirit,
whilst thou art sailing in this tempestuous sea,
because thou perceivest by the eye of faith, a haven
f rest, where thou shalt be richly laden with all'the
glories of heaven! O, lift up thy heart with joy, when
thou layest thy dear'head on the block, in the
thoughts of this, that thou art laying thy head to rest
in thy Father's bosom; which, when thou dost
awake, shall be crowned, not with an earthly, fading
crown, but with an heavenly, eternal crown of glory!
Be not troubled when thou shalt see a guard of
soldiers triumphing with their trumpets about thee;
but lift up thy head, and thou shalt behold God with
a guard of holy angels triumphing to receive thee to
glory! Be not dismayed at the scoffs and reproaches
thou mayest meet with in thy short way to heaven;
for, be assured, God will not only glorify thy body
and soul in heaven, but he will also make the memory
of thee to be glorious on earth!
" 0, let not one troubled thought for thy wife and
babes rise within thee! thy God will be our God and
our portion. He will be a husband to thy widow,
and a father to thy children: the grace of thy God
will be sufficient for us.
" Now, my dear, I desire willingly and cheerfully
to resign my right in thee to thy Father and my
Father, who hath the greatest interest in thee: and
confidant I am, though men have separated us for a




172             LETTERS TO
time, yet God will ere long bring us together again,
where we shall eternally enjoy one another, never to
part more!
" O, let me hear how God bears up thy heart, and
let me taste of those comforts which support thee,
that they'may be as pillars of marble to bear up my
sinking spirit! I can write no more. Farewell,
farewell, my dear, till we meet where we shall never
bid farewell more; till which time I leave thee in
the bosom of a loving, tender-hearted Father; and so
I rest,' Till I shall for ever rest in heaven,
"MARY LOVE."
"This excellent letter discovers the same triumph
over the world in Mrs. Love, which her husband so
happily experienced. She was not only surrounded
by their three children, but with child of a fourth
yet she passed over this circumstance in silence; and
though formerly weak in grace, yet she now enjoyed
strong confidence and great comfort, and animated
her husband by the most encouraging considerations.
Thus,'by faith, out of weakness, she was made
strong.' The next morning, being the day on which
he suffered, Mr. Love returned ier the following
farewell epistle:" My most gracious beloved,
"I am now going from a prison to a
palace. I hay  finished my work; I am now t,




VIDOWS.                  173
receive my wages. I am going to ieaven, where
there are two of my children; and Heaving thee on
earth, where there are three of my babes: those two
above need not any care; but the three below need
thine. It comforts me to think two of my children
are in the bosom of Abraham, and three of them will
be in the arms and care of so tender and godly a
mother! I know thou art a woman of a sorrowful
spirit, yet be comforted. Though thy sorrows be
great for thy husband's going out of the world, yet
thy pains shall be the less in bringing thy child into
the world: thou shalt be a joyful mother, though
thou art a sad widow! God hath many mercies in
store for thee: the prayers of a dying husband will
not be lost. To my shame I speak it, I never prayed
so much for thee at liberty, as I have done in prison.
I cannot write more; but I have a few practical
counsels to leave with thee, viz."1. Keep under a sound, orthodox, and soul-searching ministry. O there are many deceivers gone out
into the world; but Christ's sheep know his voice,
and a stranger will they not follow. Attend on that
ministry which teaches the way of God in truth, and
Ibllow Solomon's advice: cease to hear the instruction that causeth to err from the wuy of knouledge.
"2. Bring up thy children in the knowledge and
admonition of the Lord. The mother ought to be
the teacher in the father's absence. The words
which his mother taught him. Timothy was instruct.
ed by his grand-mother Lois, and his mother Eunice.
1 FN




174              LETTERS TO
"3. Pray in thy family daily, that thy dwelling
may be in the number of the families that do call
upon God.
"4. Labour for a meek and quiet spirit, which is
in the. sight of God of great price.
"5. Pore not on the. comforts thou -vantest; but
on the mercies thou hast.
"6. Look.rather to God's end in afflicting, than at
the measure and degree of thy afflictions.
" 7. Labour to clear up thy evidences for heaven,
when God takes from thee the comforts of earth;
that, as thy sufferings do abound, so'thy consolations
in Christ may much more abound.
" 8. Though it is good to maintain a holy jealousy
o' the deceitfulness of thy heart, yet it is evil' for thee
to cherish fears and doubts about the truth of thy
graces. If ever I had confidence touching the graces
of another, I have confidence of grace in thee. I can
say of thee, as Peter did of Sylvanus, I am persuaded
that this is the grace of God wherein thou standest.
Oh, my dear soul, wherefore dost thou doubt, whose
heart hath been upright, whose walkings have been
holy! I could venture my soul in thy soul's stead.
Such confidence have I in thee!
" 9. When thou findest thy heart secure, presunmptuous, and proud, then pore upon corruption more
than upon grace: but when thou findest thy heart
doubting and unbelieving, then look on thy graces,
nt on thy infirmities.
"10. Study the covenant of grace and merits of




WIDOWS.                    175
Christ, and then be troubled if thou canst. Thou art
interested in such a covenant that accepts the righteousn6ss of another, viz. that of Jesus Christ, as if II
were our own. Oh my love, rest, rest then in the
love of God, in the bosom of Christ!
"11. Swallow up thy will in the will of God. It
is a bitter cup we are to drink, but it is the cup our
Father hath put into our hands. When Paul was to
go to suffer at Jerusalem, the christians could say,
The iwill of the Lord be done.  0 say thou, when I
go to Tower-hill, The will of the Lord be done.
"' 12. Rejoice in my joy. To mourn for me inordinately, argues that either thou ernviest or suspectest
my happiness. The joy of the Lord is my strength.
O, let it be thine also! Dear wife, farewell! I will
call thee wife no more: I shall see thy face no more;
yet I am not much troubled; for now I am going to
meet the bridegroom, the Lord Jesus Christ, to whom
I shall be eternally married!
"Thy dying,
" Yet most affectionate friend till death,
"CHRISTOPHER LOVE."
"From the Tower of London,
"August 22, 1651,
"The day of my glorification."
Widows, read this, and learn submission to the
will of God, and heroic fort:tude under his afflictive
hand.




176               LETTERS TO
LETTERS FROM WIDOWS.
From Mrs. Huntington, widow of an American Minister;
describing the scene of Mr. Huntington's death, and he}
own behaviour at the time: a bright proof of the power of
prayer. The three following letters of Mrs. Huntington,
were extracted by Mr. James, from the admirable memoirs
of that lady, by Rev. Dr. Wisner, and published by Crocker
and Brewster. We refer the reader to this volume lor
other letters of deep interest and great value.-American
Publishers.
"MR. HUNTINGTON was apprised, by the physician,
of my arrival. There was an increase of ten to the
number of his pulse upon this intelligence. When I
entered the room in which he lay, he was gasping
for breath; but his countenance glowed with an
expression of tenderness I shall never forget, as he
threw  open his arms, exclaiming,'My dear wife!'
and clasped me, for some moments, to his bosom. I
said, with perfect composure,'My blessed husband, 1
have come at last.' He replied,'Yes; and it is
infinite mercy to me.' I told him, all I regretted
was that I could not get to him sooner. He said




WIDO WS.                 37"
with a tender consideration for my health, which he
always valued more than his own,'I am glad you
could not; in your present. circumstances it might
have been too much for me.'
"From that time, owing to the insidious nature of
his disease, I had considerable hope. I had seen
him. I was with him. He was as sensible of my
love and of my attentions as ever; and I could not
realise the stroke that was impending. Never shall
I remember without gratitude the goodness of God in
giving me that last week of sweet, though sorrowful
intercourse with my beloved husband.
"The days and nights of solicitude drew near a
fatal close. I could not think of his death. At that
prospect nature revolted. I felt as if it would be
comparatively easy to die for him. But the day
before his death, when all spoke encouragement, I
felt we must part. In the bitterness of my soul.
vent into the garret. It was the only place I could
have without interruption. Never shall I forget tha:
hour. Whether in the body or out, I could scarcely
tell. I drew near to God. Such a view of the reality
and nearness of eternal things I had never had. It
seemed as if I was somewhere with God. I cast my
eye back on this life, it seemed a speck. I felt that
God was my God, and my husband's God; that this
was enough; that it was a mere point of difference
whether he should go to heaven first or I, seeing we
should both go so soon. My mind was filled with
satisfac, on with the government of God.'Be ye




178             LETTERS.TO
followers of them who, through faith an. patience,
inherit the promises,' seemed to be the exhortation:
given me upon coming back to this world. I do not
mean that there were any bodily or sensible appearances. But I seemed carried away in the spirit. I
pleaded for myself and children travelling through
this distant country. It seemed as if I gave them,
myself, and husband up entirely; and it was made
sure to me that God would do what was best for
uS.
From that time, though nature would have her
struggles, I felt that God had an infinite right to do
what he pleased with his own; that he loved my
husband better than I did; that if he saw him ripe
for his rest, I had no objections to make. All the
night he was exercised with expiring sufferings, and
Tod was pouring into my soul one truth and promise
of the gospel after another. I felt it sweet for him
to govern. There was a solemn tranquillity filled
the chamber of death. It was an hour of extremity
to one whom Jesus loved. I felt that He was there,
that angels were there, that every agony was sweetened and mitigated by One, in whose sight the death
of his saints is precious. I felt as if I had gone with,the departing spirit to the very utmost boundary of
this land of mortals, and as if it would be easier for
me to drop the body wvhich confined my soul in its
approach towards heaven, than retrace all the way I
had gone. When the intelligence was brought to me
that the conflict was over, it was good news —




WIDOWS.                  179
kissed the clay, as pleasantly as I ever did when it
was animated by the now departed spirit. I was
glad he had got safely home, and that all the steps
of his departure were so gently ordered.
"It would be in vain for me to attempt a description of my feelings the next morning. I had never
seen such a sun rise before. It beheld me alone.
Were I the only created being in the universe, I
could not perhaps, have felt very differently. I went
into the chamber in which he died. There, on the
pillow was the print of his head. The bed of death
was just as' when it resigned for ever the body of
him who was all the world to me. His portmanteau,
comb, brush, et cet. lay in sight. God wonderfully
supported me.
" But why do I dwell on a description which even.low is almost too much for me?  How did God
sustain a creature who was weakness itself! How
mercifully he has carried me through all my successive trials! Truly it was the Lord's doing: and
it is marvellous in my eyes.
"And now, oh how is it now?  Not so much
comfort; labouring with sin; afraid almostr to live
in this wicked world; dreading a thousand evils in
my present lonely state. But all this is wrong.
God hath said,' Who shall harm you, if ye be foltowers of that which is good?' How kindly my beloved husband. used to remind of this text!"




180              LETTERS TO
TO A FRIEND WHO HAD LOST A NEAR RELATION.
"Your long and confidential letter gave me great
pleasure.  There is a sympathy in the feeling of
persons who have been recently afflicted, which cannot be expected to be found in others; a mutual
chord, which, touched, vibrates with a kindred
sound. We have not suffered exactly alike; but
we have suffered; and that circumstance has made
is love each other better than we did before..*  *  *  *. *,*  *  *  *  * *  *
"When I view myself, riven asunder, root and
branch, not the limbs torn away, but the very body
of the tree sundered from top to bottom, nature must
feel the parting agonies, must at times, be ready
to sink under the consciousness of her dissolution.
All this must be to those who have interests to be
smitten, friendships to be broken, and hearts to feel.
Yes, dear E —, our hearts have bled.  The
wound inflicted has been deep. We have felt that
the stroke was full of anguish, that it went to our
very souls. We will not deny that this is all true.
We will not please ourselves with the delusion that
the deep, deep wound which the hand of God has
inflicted, can ever cease to bleed. But, 0 my friend!'is there not balm in Gilead? is there not a phy.
sician there?' Is not that physician our Saviour:
wise to discern, prudent to manage, strong to save 
Has not the kind hand which smote so deeply, accompanied the stroke with many softening, mitigat



WIDOWS.                    181
mg circumnstances? Oh yes; I trust we both feel
that it is so. It is God who hath afflicted us, the
infinitely wise, compassionate, and faithful Jehovah,
the Lord our God. And does it not argue great want
of confidence in him, if we sink into despondency
when ie chastises us? Does it not show, either that
we think we could manage things better than he can,
or that there is something which we have not cordially submitted to his disposal?
" And now, O God, thou art the potter, and we
the clay. 0 how this quells the murmurings of selfwill; how it settles the restlessness of the troubled
spirit; how it plucks the sting from the rod of affliction! God knows best. Precious truth! It is an
anchor to the soul, sure and steadfast, which keeps
it from shipwreck, amidst all the storms and tempests
of the troubled sea of life. Oh, for a firm, unwavering faith! This is all that is wanting. With this
we may say,
Cheerful I tread the desert through.
With this we may rejoice when our beloved friends
are taken from  the stormy ocean to the peaceful
port, from the weary wilderness to the happy home,
from the field of conflict to the crowi of victory,
and trace with holy courage, our way through the
same difficulties to the same glorious recompense of
reward. But, ah! this, a firm  unwavering faith, is
too often wanting. We miss our temporal comforts.
The heart which sympathised in all our pleasures
16




182              LETTErLS  TO
and plains, has ceased to beat; the ear which was
always open to listen to our complaints and wishes,
is closed; the kind voice of affection and disinterested love, is hushed; the arm which supported us,
is withdrawn. It is a chilling thought.  Cherished
alone. we feel its freezing, benumbing influence fastening upon all the springs of comfort and hope, and
turning every stream of joy into one waste of cold
and motionless despair.
" But, my dear friend, we must not view our trials
thus. We must think much and often of the blessedness of those whose removal we lament, of the
perfection of the divine government, of the certainty
of the promise, that' all things shall work together
for good to them that love God,' of tile rapid approach of that hour which will unite us eternally to
those in Christ whom we love, of the danger of
creature-comforts, and of the suffering life on earth
of our glorious High-priest and head, and his assurance that it is through much tribulation we must
enter the kingdom. Oh, my dear E —-, if we are
Christians, there is a glorious prospect before us-as
much of the good things of this life as an infinitely
wise and kind Father sees to be best for us, and hereafter an eternity of unmingled and ineffable bliss!"
TO A SISTER-IN-LAWV.
"Boston, Sept. 22, 1819.
"I rece ved your kind letter, my dear sister, this
forenoon.  I arm. appy to say I have passed the




WIDJWS.                  183
time, since you left me, much more comfortably than
I expected. God is very gracious to me. He gives
me such a measure of sweet quietness, as composes
and tranquillises my spirits.'Blessed is the man
who trusteth in the Lord, and whose hope the Lord
is: for he shall be as a tree planted by the waters,
and that spreadeth out her roots by the river, and
shall not see when heat cometh, but her leaf shall
be green; and shall not be careful in the year ot
drought, neither shall cease from yielding fruit.'
Sometimes I have fears that the preciouis promises
of God's Word cannot belong to one so vile and rebellious. But I am generally able to flee to the blood
of' sprinkling-to trust in Him  in whom  all the
promises of God are yea and amen, and to say,'Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knolvest that
I love thee.' Yes, my dear sister, on God's part all
is mercy, mercy! The world has changed with
me. But the memory of the blessed saint is pleasant, though mournful to the soul. The prospect of
heaven makes the dark shades of my picture orighter.
"September 25. The desolating stroke my soul
was dreading, when I last wrote in this journal has
fallen upon me. Yes, it has fallen upon me-and I
live! What shall I my? The right hand of the
Lord doeth valiantly, or I should now have dwelt
in silence. Wonderful grace! He that hath loved
me bore me through. His everlasting arm was under me. He taught and enabled me tc say,'Thv




184              LETTERS TO
will be done.' To him be glory. The being I loved
be';er than myself has left me in this wilderness,
He on whom I leaned has gone over the Jordan.
But another arm, mightier than his, sustains me. I
can say, I humbly believe, with truth,' Nevertheless
I am nct alone, for God is with me.' And I must
again cry, Grace! grace! I am a wonder to myself.
Oh the infinite grace of God! A worm is in the
furnace and is not consumed! And must I not lovt
this'strong Deliverer' better than all? Shall I not
cheerfully give up my comforts at his command?
"October 3. When I can, I intend writing some
of the particulars of my blessed husband's departure,.
for future satisfaction, should I live. When I look
at my ioss only, I sink. What I lost in that holy
man of God, that amiable companion, that faithful
friend, that prudent counsellor, that devoted husband, God knows! What the church has lost, in
his eminent consecration of himself to his work,
his love to the poor, his compassion to the afflicted,
his meekness and humility, his zeal and disinterestedness, his fervent prayers, his lovely and almost
spotless example, God knows! Oh it is pleasant
for memory to dwell on the recollection of what he
was!'Tis a beautiful picture, on which I must ever
fasten the eye of my fond remembrance with satis.
faction. But that light is removed: put out, I do
not say. Oh no! He lives to die no more. And I
am permitted to hope I shall, ere long, go to him,
an dwell with him for ever in heaven! God is car



x': r IDO W S.           185
rying on an infinitely perfect plan of government.
The removal of my beloved husband, in the midst
of his usefulness, is a part of that plan. Shall I not
lay my hand on my mouth, and say,'Thy will be
done.'"
TO A FRIEND WHO HAD LOST HER HUSBAND,
"Boston, January 25th, 1820.
" My dear Friend and Sister,
" Ever since that sorrowful event which numbered me among those who can more emphatically
than other classes of mourners, say,' Lover and friend
hast thou put far from me, and mine acquaintance
into darkness," I have felt desirous of writing to you.
Not because I expected to offer any consolation to
your mind, with which it is not already much better
acquainted than mine, but from that natural feeling
of sympathy, which is excited towards those whose
trials are similar to our own. And now that I have
taken up my pen, the reflection that my time might
be better occupied than in obtruding myself upon
you, and thus opening anew the fountains of your
grief (if, indeed, they have ever been closed in'any
measure,) by the recital of my own sufferings, almost
induces me to lay it down again. However, I do not
mean to pain you, and agonize myself, in this way.
Profitable as it may be for cornmon mourners, to
dwell often and long upon the circumstances of their
bereavements, in order to cherish the impressions
whitch such dispensations may have made on their
16,




86              LETTERS TO
earts, it is not profitable for us. Such sorrow as
jurs is in no danger of being suddenly diverted. The
danger is on the other side, of its pressing so constantly and heavily on the spirit, as to crush the
feeble body to the grave. And would it not have
been so with us, my dear friend, were it not that the
hand of the Lord has been upon us for good?
"I have wished, and still wish, to know how you
do, what are your circumstances, and how  your
mind hlas been exercised under its heavy afflictions.
I, you know, have had accumulated ones. But have
we not both found that precious promise verified,'As thy days, so shall thy strength be?' Has the
Lord ever been a' wilderness' to us? And may we
not safely trust him for the future? Does he not
know exactly, what measure of sorrow we can bear,
as well as what kind we need?
And now, my friend, what remains for us to do in
this world?  Not to live for the temporal enjoyments of life, certainly; for how can any comfort be
received, any delight enjoyed, which will not, as
long as we live, be embittered by the recollection of
those, dearer to us than our own lives, who once
sympathised in all our joys, and whose sympathy
with us was a principal source of our satisfaction?
Yes, this bitter, bitter thought will press itself upon
our remembrance, when we lie down, and when we
rise up, in the house, and by the way. And, vieving our loss only in this manner, the world looks like
a waste, a desert, a weary monotonous desert, strip



WI DO WS.               187
ped of all that.once enlivened it. But we must not
view it so. What did Christ live for? What did
Paul live for? Alas! if we could find our happiness
here in that in which the Saviour found his, we
might yet see many good days in the land of the
living. And this is what we must labour after. If
we have little left us to enjoy, lave we nothirtg left
us to do? And the happiness of our souls ought to
result, the happiness of a holy soul will result, from
doing and being just what God pleases. The mind
which feels that it has no sympathies to be exercised, no object upon which to repose its affections,
no business to employ its faculties, must sink into a
state of hopeless and dreadful despondency.  But
the Christian should never feel thus. Though our
precious husbands have left us, have we nothing to
feel or do for their children; nothing to do for Christ,
and for the church which he hath purchased with
his own blood? And may we not yet be happy in
doing diligently the work which he has given us to
do? My dear friend, we shall never be happy just
as we have been. Oh, no, never. The smile of
tenderness will wait for us no more when returning
to our sorrowful habitations.  The voice of un.i
mingled love will greet us no more in our afflictions.
The counsellors, advisers, supporters, and prophets,
upon whom we leaned, who sanctioned by their
influence the expressions of maternal authority,
who bore us constantly and earnestly before God,
are gone! Nature shudders, as she casts her eye




188              LETTERS TO
forward, and thinks of this long, long, long sefaration.
" But why have I suffered myself to fall into this
sorrowful strain? I did it unintentionally, unconsciously. Forgive me. I have pained you, and 1
have pained myself. I was going to say, we must
find our happiness in a different way-in girding up
the loins of our mind in a more diligent performance
of duty; in putting on, as good soldiers of the cross,
the whole armour of God; in setting our faces as a
flint against every thing which can discourage, intimidate, or wound us; in remembering the example
of our devoted, our suffering Saviour, in leaning on
his arm, confiding in his wisdom, and trusting in his
grace and strength, and in sending forward our hearts
to that happy, happy home, which we hope one day
to reach and whither our beloved friends have gone
before us. Let our expectations of earthly rest be
moderate, except of that sweet rest which results
from simple trust in God.
"I have written thus far, and have not yet mentioned what I had most in view when I began. 1
think we may derive benefit from remembering each
other's children in our prayers. Can we not devote
ten minutes every Saturday evening, at nine o'clock,
to special prayer for each other, that we may have
grace, wisdom, coulrage, and patience to do our duty;
and for our children, that their affections may be
sanctified, our instructions blessed, they brought into
the covenant early, et. cet? Will you write, and let




W iDOWS.                  189
me know what you think of it?  My little boy
wakes, and I must bid you adieu."
wRO0I LADY POWERSCOUI1T, WHO LOST HER HUSBAND
ABOUT A YEAR AFTER THEIR MIARRIAGE.*
LETTER V.
"Dear Mr.        I should have answered your
kind letter before this, had I any thing to tell you
that could have given you any gratification. But
alas! I have been as desolate within, as without.
My earthly husband hid from me, my heavenly one
I cannot find; and Satan hard at work tempting me
to say, what is this black thing I have done, which
makes my Father so very angry with me? But
oh, my dear Lord, let him not rule within: quench
his fiery darts: show me that I deserve far worse
even all the wrath of an offended God. But Jesus
has' borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.
These trials are only blessings, to fill up that which
is behind of his afflictions. I am also tempted to
think, that I cannot be his, for I feel none of that
comfort his children always feel, and I used to find
in the hour of trial...    Jonah, doest thou
well to be angry? I will bear the indignation of the
* The letters and papers of this eminent Christian, and
strong minded woman, as published by the Rev. Robert
Daly, are a preciols volume, full of irstructioa, consolation
and reproof.




190             LET TERS TO
Lord, because I have sinned grievously against him.
Oh, dear Mr., you do not know what it is to
lose one so dear, so very dear; I can only compare
it to the tearing asunder all the strings of the heart.
Then such a gloomy prospect here the rest of one's
life. After watching him day and night with so
much anxiety, anticipating the joy of being allowed
again to be with him; all at once so unexpectedlyr
to have my hopes dashed from me, was what I did
not think for some days I could have borne, because
I forgot that as my day so should my strength be.
In any other loss I have had, I never could pray for
the bodily life of my friend, but in this, to which no
other loss can be compared, night and day I could
not help entreating the Lord to spare me that heavy
blow. I really did think he meant to answer me,
and hoped against hope, till the last breath left tha.
dear body.              But I know, 0 Lord, that
thy judgments are right, and that in very faithfulness thou hast afflicted me —I must wtit to know
and see why it is, till I know as I am known. That
it is unspeakable love, I have no doubt, be.luse he
who hath sent it is no new friend, but a tried and
precious one; and when it is good for me he will
allow me to see, that this God is Love. But oh, I
tremble when I look at my rebellion, and ingratitude,
throughout it all. I have had much to show me
myself this last year-to dig up the mud hid under
the smooth surface. How will it astonish youastonish angels, when the book of my sins is opened




WIDOWS.                   191
except they are so blotted out with blood as to make
them illegible.
" I do not suppose, there could be a stronger lesson
of the vanity of every thing earthly, than to look at
me, last year and this. The prospects of happiness I
seemed to set out with! And now, where are they?
A living monument that man in his best estate is
altogether vanity-and see how my heart, without
my knowing it was on earth. I could not have
thought, one who professes to believe in the joys of
heaven, and had tasted the realisation of them by
faith, could so mourn, as one without hope-could so
willingly call him back again. But I shall say no
more, for these complaints only grieve my God, and
annoy you. But, indeed, I am. at times greatly
oppressed, and feel this evening as if there were a
parcel of devils within, tearing me different ways,
and refusing me any rest. I beseech you pray for
me, and write to me,
"Your unalterably affectionate
"And gra' eful friend,
"T. A. POW-ERSCOURT."
LETTER VI.
*  *      "I-How I shall long to join you all above.
I fear I need patience, and find it hard to reconcile
my mind to the possibility of my living three times
as long as I have lived yet. When I look back upon
a few months, and remember the happiness I used




192              LETTERS TO
to feel when I expected my dearest love, and, to spend the evening at.... and to have a
little reading, I can hardly persuade myself that I am
the same person. Two now in possession of what
they then, blessed be God, enjoyed by faith, and I
left alone.-But I forgot-I determined never to
murmur again. It needs a great stretch of faith
sometimes, when the enemy comes in like a flood, to
believe that God is as much at peace with me
through Christ, as with those already above; that
Abraham now in glory is not safer than I am. Is
that presumption do you think? What a precious
name, a strong tower, into which, if we run, we shall
be safe! Were I left to myself I should run from it.
I would not trust myself to His word, but seek to
save myself from danger. But almighty love arrests
me, Iulls me in; and then rewards me for coming.
How much in those words,'are safe,'-to.think we
are safe from every thing! No evil shall ever touch
us, evil at the end, or evil on the way. All paved
with love;' all things shall work together for good.'
I have got the promise of all others I want-' let thy
widows trust in me.' I once wished there was a
richer, a sweeter promise to widows; but I believe
it requires to be brought into different circumstances,
in order to feel the force of different promises. For
the Lord knew that none so suited widows, as these
few words.  In looking round the wide w-,rld, so
filled with wickedness, and seeing one has to pass
through it alone, one would fear, every step one took




'WIDOWS..                 193
so unprotected and forlorn, only for this promise.
With this'when I am weak, then am I strong.' It
ts not like Him to invite us to trust in him, and then
let any evil come nigh us. If His everlasting arms
are underneath, I' shall dwell in safety alone.' Let
there be rebellions, revolutions, persecutions, earthquakes, any thing, every thing,' let thy widows trust
in me,' should be enough. I know my tabernacle
shall be in peace. Sweet to think that the eye of
the Lord is upon us, to deliver our souls from death.
It seems to me, as a nurse keeps her eye upon her
child lest it should destroy itself, or as a keeper keeps
his eye upon his poor lunatic,' the Lord is thy keeper.'
Then unbelief jumps up and says, how do you know
all this is for you? Then I do not know what to say,
but'my Master told me so.' His Spirit witnesses
with my spirit. He has given me the earnest of the
Spirit. To those who believe, he is precious, and I
think he is precious to me —'a bundle of myrrh is
my well-beloved unto me.' Oh that I could keep
close to him; I want to be fixed on the rock. My
grief is, that the waves of sin and the world, give me
so many shoves off it. Will you not pray for me,. for
I greatly need it; and, will you not write to me, and
exhort me with purpose of heart to cleave unto the
Lord; and tell me if you thiik me presumptuous, or
going wrong in any way. That old serpent is so.
cunning. Will you forgive me for speaking so much,
of myself, but speaking of what He can do for ms,,
magnifies the power of his grace, more than if I was
17




194              LETTERS TO
to speak of it with regard tc any one else upon earth.
"Yours, with christian affection,
" T. A. POWERSCOURT.'
LETTER VIII., * "I have to thank you for your other kind
long letter. There is a certain drawing out of heart
towards those who care enough for us, as to point
out in what way we may be grieving our Lord.
Your accusations, I fear, are quite just; and I hope I
may have your prayers, that I may be enabled to
walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing. I think
it is in lhe Lord we are told to rejoice, a joy which
can be felt while sorrowing, a good cheer in tribulation. i sometimes sit in astonishment, why my cup
should run over with this blessing, and I have more
whea the heart is brought low to receive it, than
when it is (which is often the case) intoxicated. I
own I feel sometimes cast down and desolate, but
not unhappy. I have had a deep, a very deep wound;
the trial has been very severe; but how should I
have known tHim  as a brother born for adversity
without it? How should I prize him as my strength
if I am not sometimes left to feel my perfect weakness? The heart is too selfish not to drop a tear
sometimes, but I hope no longer a rebellious one.
The wound is closed, but very little bursts it open.
The marble must be allowed to melt a little, but
orly enough to serl to that good physician, who




WIDoWS.                   19M
maket!i sore, and bindeth up; he woundeth, an, his
hands make whole. I understand these lines,
" Cry and groan beneath afiflictions,
Yet to dread the thoughts of ease."
However, if it is more to his glc ry, that I should take
pleasure in the many blessings left in this world,
dreary as it may seem through the glass of affliction,'behold I am here, Lord;'-if to be kept low, even
so. May I only be able to, lay this soul as helpless
on the great' I AIt.' And I can assure you, however
appearances may contradict it, I have much joy and
peace in believing, and find life a flux and reflux of
love; Jesus is precious to me. I find his banner of
love extended over Edinburgh: his promises here
also are as honey dropping from the comb. There
is not one on earth I desire but him; he is all my
hope and all my salvation; and I can go on with
confidence, knowing he can never deny himself, or
say,'ILnever knew you,' for he testifies not only that
he knows me, but that he loves me, by enabling me
to say,' thou knowest all things, thou knowest that
I love thee."
"' Sometimes we appear such insignificant grasshoppers, that it is hard to conceive that he can think
of us and our foolish concerns; at other times one
feels of such immense importance, that one wonders
that Christians can live like other people, such as
when we read of the bursts of joy from the heavenly
host, and find this the sign that their Loid whom




196              LEO ZERS TO
they adore has become a despised babe, and all, be.
cause peace is brought to earth, and good-will to
maal. Peace seems just what we want here, purchased by his blood, eft as his legacy. What simplicity there seemed to be in his words after his
resurrection. ile seemed to enjoy the travail of his
soul, when distributing his peace. May he impart
largely of it to your soul, and while recommending
the inexpressible treasure of his word to others, may
you be enabled yourself to feed on it, by faith with
thanksgiving. May he empty of his fulness into all
our bosoms, and enable us by using, to show we
value the privilege of drawing near to him, to tell
him of fear the world cannot allay, of wants -the
world cannot satisfy, of blessings the world knows
nothing of.
"Your affectionate
" T. A. PowEmscoustT."
LETTER IX.
~ *   *    "Is your happy soul still lifted up? able
in his light to walk through darkness? I know the
dreary waste that lies before you. How his dear,
dear company is missed-how tasteless and insipid
every thing appears-how you want that affection
which entered into every trifle which concerned you
-how want an adviser, a protector, such a companion
-one to weep -'Len you weep-to rejoice when you
rejoice. I know we i what it is to lie d vwn a night




wis ows.                 17
and say, where is he? —to awake in the morning, and
find him gone-to hear the hour strike day after day,
at which you once expected his daily return home to
his too happy fire-side-and  find nothing but a
remenmbrance that embitters all the future here. Oh
my poor, poor... -. if I cannot feel for you,
who can?-who so often partook of your happiness?
-sweet, precious time I have been allowed to enjoy
with you both, but past. However it is well that
you have another to feel for you.  If I know the
meaning of the word sorrow, I also know of a joy a
stranger intermeddleth not with. Howtenderly our
compassionate Lord speaks of the widow! as a
parent who feels the punishment more than the
chastened child. He seems intent to fill up every
gap love has been forced to make: one of his errands
from heaven was to bind up the broken-hearted. He
has an answer for every complaint yot may ever be,
tempted to make. Do you say you have none now
to follow, to walk with, to lean on? He will follow
you and invite you to come up from the wilderness
leaning on him as your beloved. Is it that you want
one to be interested in all vour concerns? Cast all
your cares upon him, for he careth for you. A
protector? Let thy widows trust in me. An adviser?
Wonderful Counsellor' Companion? I will not leave
you comfortless; I will come unto you; I will never
leave you, nor forsake you; I have not called you
servants but friends; behold I stand at the door and
knock, if any man hear my vc;,.e, and open the door,
17*




1938             LETTERS TO
I will corle in unto him, and sup with aim, and he
with me. One to weep with you? In all their
affliction he was afflicted; Jesus wept. When you
lie down-safe under the shadow of his wings, under
the banner of his love.  When you awake-still
about your path and about your bead. It is worth
being afflicted to become intimately acquainted, and
to learn to make use of, the chief of ten thousand —
the altogether lovely-the brother born for adversity
-the friend that sticketh closer than a brother —the
friend of sinners. Pray write often to your poor
sister; tell me of every thing that interests you; do
not let the children forget me.'
From Mrs. Lewis, widow of the Rev. Michael Lewis,
Missionary to the Negroes, Demarara, to her
widowed mother.
"My dear and honoured mother,
"Surely I am  bereaved! 0 yes, I am
bereaved! But of what-of whom am I bereaved?
Of a dear, a tender, an affectionate husband; of a
mother, a friend, a brother. All these relations in
him I found combined, but he is gone! My soul be
still and know that all is well; rejoice that he who
first gave thee such a treasure, has seen fit to recall
him. 0, I would not for one moment repine. It is
true, I had fondly hoped to have had him spared to
me for a few more years. Two short years and
eleven days had just expired since we together left
our dear widowed mother for a far distant land,




WlDOWS.                   199
when my dear husband was welcomed.o the skies.
My dearest Saviour, thou didst call hiln, and he is
gone to receive that crown which fadeth not, the
assurance of which cheers my very heart, because he
wil. weep no more. Sorrow and sighing are for ever
flown from  him. I know too that my Redeemer
liveth, and that soon the same voice that sweetly
called the darling of my heart from this vale of tears,
to mansions in the upper and better world, will say
to her that is left to mourn her loss,'Weep no more,
but come up hither and enter into the joy of your
Lord.' Pray, pray, for your Rebecca.
"I would fain attempt to describe the death-bed
scene of my dearest earthly love; but I find it
impossible to do so. The joy, the bliss indeed was
great. This line was constantly in my mind, " 0 the
pain, the bliss of dying.' Yes; it deserved the name
of bliss, for it was bliss supremely treat. Not one
cloud was permitted to veil his sky; enough to
silence every rising painful thought; and through
mercy I can assure you, my dearest mother, it has.
The Lord made good his promise to me when my
heart was nearly overwhelmed in prospect of a
separation taking place between us ahe was pleased
to make my dearest husband the medium through
which to afford consolation, and to impart submission.
Yes, two days before his happy spirit took its flight,
on seeing me rather cast down and very anxious,
accompanied with the trickling tear which stole
down my face, he said to me, with looks indicating




200              LETTERS TO
marked affection, and with a soft tone of voice, ready
to join his voice with mine,-' 0 naughty, naughty,you know, my dear, if this is the time the Lord is
about to separate us from each other, we should try
to feel quite submissive to his righteous will, for he
does all things well.' I felt reproved, and retired to
bless the I,ord for his great kindness in giving my
dearest husband such sweet submission to his holy
will; and to entreat that the same blessing might be
bestowed upon myself; nor did the hearer and
answerer of prayer turn a deaf ear to the voice of my
supplication, for while I was yet speaking he answered me; and after this, it mattered not who tried
to persuade me that the Lord would still spare him
to me, for I had quite given him up to his entire and
gracious disposal.   *    *    *    *
"As I was withdrawing from his bed-side, he said
in a low tone of voice, not intending I should hear
him,'Ah, [ am  sorry for thee, my dear.' I was
determined he should not see me weeping, lest he
should think I was sorrowing, and spoke to him as
firmly as possible. About seven o'clock he said,' My
love, I hope your tears are tears of gratitude.' I
answered' Yes, they are tears of gratitude.''0 that
is quite right, quite right,' and seemed to say,'Weep
on then.'-This was no small mercy to me, as weeping seemed to relieve me of such a burden.
"' I shall be with you in spirit,' he said,'though
absent in body.'' Yes, my dear,' I replied, you are




WIDOWS.                   201
about to leave us and go to that blessed Jesus to
receive the early crown you have been speaking to
us about so often lately.' X    *    *    *    *
"I observed'you seem longing to clap your glad
wings and fly away to seats prepared above.'  I am,
I am! my dear; tell them to sing —' Praise ye the Lord, our hearts shall join,
In work so pleasant so divine,
Now while the flesh is my abode,
And when my soul ascends to God.'
When we came to the sixth verseHe helps the stranger in distress,
The widow and the fatherless;'
It was almost too much for all, but his dear self.
"He remained silent for a little time-then rny
ears caught the sound'Come Lord Jesus, come.'
The people gradually returned into the room again,
he said'Sing, Salvation, 0 the joyful sound;' we
sang it-he then sweetly addressed us from the word
salvation, and said it would probably be the last time
he should do so. The address was pathetic indeed,
it was about half an hour long. To sergeant Adams
he said,'Pray, pray,' he knelt and prayed in a very
affecting manner. My dearest Lewis kept adding
his amen to the petition. As we arose from  our
knees he exclaimed,' Stng, sing,-' Salvation, 0 he




'202             LETTERS TO
joyful sound,' again, with the choru.-  At the end
of each verse we sang the chorus, it waa ts follows, —' Glory, honour, praise and power,
Be unto the Lamb for ever!
Jesus Christ is our Redeemer,
Hallelujah! Praise the Lord.'
" As  we -were singing the chorus the Jast time, he
began to sing the word Hallelujah, on earth,-but
went to heaven to finish it! but I finished it and
added,' Praise ye the Lord.' I felt my life ought to
be a life of praise. Thus the dear departed breathed
his last, without a long-fetched breath —his end was
peace. With mine own hand I closed his eyes on
the twenty-second of January, exactly at twelve
o'clock in the day, (the Sabbath.) Dear man of God,
much as I loved and still love thee, I rejoice that
thou hast entered into thy rest.
"My dear mother, weep not because Rebecca is
left a widow in a strange land; rather rejoice that
my heart has something like a loadstone drawing it
towards heaven; for there my best friends and kindred dwell, there God my Saviour reigns."
And now, in conclusion, what can I add for your
instruction or comfort, except it be a few words on
that blessed, though mysterious union, which exists
between Christ and his believing people. Looking
sorrowfully, as you now do, on the broken bonds of
that close and tender union, which was once the
source of your chief earthly hapKnless, and he disso



IDOWS.                   203
hition of which has left you a lonely pilgrim, in this
world's great wilderness, comfort yourself with the
thought, that if joined unto the Lord by faith, and
made one spirit with him, there is at least one unicn
which even death cannot dissolve, and one tie which
nothing can weaken or rupture. How tender and
how beautiful is the representation, which sets forth
Chris, as the husband of his church. You can feel
this now, as you never felt it before  I-Ie not only.
loves you with an affection, to whicl even that of
your husband was cold, but will ever live to manifest
his affection.  Death has severed you from  your
earthly husband, but it can never take from you this
heavenly bridegroom.  Standing at the'grave of all
that was most dear to you on earth, and reading in
mournful silence, and with many tears, that simple
record of mortality upon his tomb, which contains
the history and the date of your sorrows, take up the
triumphant exultation of the apostle, and exclaim,
"Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors, through him  that hath loved us; for I am
persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, not
principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor
things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other
creature, shall be able to separate us from the love
of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.-Rom. viii.
37-39. Nor is this the language of vain boasting, but
of well founded confidence. No, nothing-shall burst
the bond, which unites the redeemed soul lto its
redeeming Saviour. This Divine Head will hold ir




204              LETTERS TO
close, vital, and inseparable union, every member
that is incorporated into him by faith. And as you
cannot be severed by death from Christ, so neither is
your departed husband, if he were a true believer.
The righteous sleep in Jesus.  In death they are
still one with him. The spirit has been disunited
from its mortal and corruptible body, but not from
its immortal and incorruptible head. All the rights
and privileges which belong to believers, in virtue of
their union with Christ, remain with them in and
after death undiminished, unimpaired.  Dead they
are, but they are dead in Christ: they are as much
comprehended in his covenant; summed up in him
as their head; represented by him as their advocate,
as they possibly could be, while here on earth.
Whatever is meant by their being in Christ, is meant
of them now they are dead, and shall be made good
to them at his appearing. Wherefore you are one
with him you have lost still: you meet in Christ's
spiritual body, and are bound by a mystical tie in the
same sacred fellowship.
What is.to follow? The heavenly bridegroom will
take home his bride to the mansions of glory, which
lie is gone to prepare for the object of his love. How
tender, yet how sacred and how solemn is the adjuration of the apostle, where he says, "Now  we
beseech you, brethren, by the coming of our Lord
Jesus Christ, and by our gathering together unto him."
-2 Thess. i' 1. There is now a scattering, but then
there is to be a gathering. His chosen, redeemed,




WIDOWS.                   20O
regenerated, sanctified  church, now  severed fron
each other, though still united in him, shall be then
collected into his presence, and gathered round his
throne; not one of its members shall be missing, but
the spiritual body will be complete with its Divine
Ilead.  Mortality will be swallowed up of life.
THeaven will be a region of vitality; a living world, a
world of life. The widow's God shall be there, but
not the widow, as a widow.  Her tears will he
wiped away; her loss will be repaired; her sorrows
will be turned into joy, for she will be associated.againl eihl the companion of her pilgrimage; not
indeed in the bonds of a fleshly union, but in the ties
(,f a spirrualt. fellowship; for they shall be as the
anglels of God, and shall dwell together for ever in
that glorious state, of which it is said, there, SHALL
BE NO MORE DEATH.
THE END,.