(Continued from page 344.)
CONVERSATIONS WITH BETSY LINDSAY.
“Your condition took hold of my mind this day in church very forcibly.” “How so, sir?”
“The approaching Sabbath being a day for commemorating the death of the Lamb of God throughout the city, and you one whom I believe has been rescued from eternal death by that glorious death, and how much you would like to commemorate that death, and so meet with the Lord Jesus, whom you love, at His table, and yet to be laid upon a bed of sickness. These ideas made me feel keenly; but I had relief and resignation by the consideration that the Lord is not confined to this ordinance—valuable as it is as a medium of communion with Him—but that He can give His broken body and shed blood in a promise, and make it a communion to the soul as well as in this holy ordinance, when one, in the arrangement of His providential government, is prevented from it. I then could only pray that He would graciously make a sick-bed a little sanctuary to you on a Communion Sabbath, and give you the marrow of the wheat, and the old wine on the lees well refined, through His Word, and He Himself, who is Minister of the Upper Sanctuary, be the administrator to your soul.”
“Well, sir, that has often been in my own mind, and it is a cause of praise that the Lord is not confined to a tabernacle made with hands, nor to one species of means, though His stated ordinances of His own appointment be His ordinary means, and in which all His people are enjoined to wait upon Him. Before I became concerned for my salvation, though I was professing to be concerned—yet there was nothing real in that profession, as I have since seen—I was asked if I would like to go to the Lord’s table; I so stoutly said, No. I said this from a conviction of unworthiness, yet it distressed me afterwards, as if I was so stoutly rejecting the Lord Jesus by refusing to go to His table and commemorate His dying love. This distress, however, I believe to have been a temptation from the devil, because if I had then gone to the Lord’s table I would have done it unworthily, and that would have been dishonouring the Lord and eating and drinking damnation to my own soul; because I was ignorant of the Lord, and could not therefore discern the Lord’s body in the ordinance, nor the germ of the ordinance; neither could I go beyond bread and wine—the external and mere ceremony of keeping a religious ordinance. When light came into my mind, I came to see that ordinance is not like the other means of grace appointed purposely for conversion, but for the comfort and strengthening and building up of the people of God already converted, and with which strangers ought not to intermeddle. Though, indeed, the Lord’s Supper has been a time and the occasion of the conversion of sinners—which I believe it has been in many instances, and which I myself know—yet I speak of the specific object of the appointment of the holy ordinance of the Supper. I was thus relieved of my distress for then refusing to go to the table of the Lord. Then afterwards, I recollect, in the month of October, before I became confined, I was thinking for the coming Communion occasion in November, and joying at its approach, when I promised myself the satisfaction of sitting with a different mind at the table of the Lord, made dear to me, and whom I loved. This was constantly in my mind. But, sir, it pleased the Lord in September to lay me down on a bed of languishing. When the time of Communion last November came, I felt such thirsting of soul after it that I began to fear it amounted to murmuring at the dispensation of the Lord in disappointing me in my anticipated happiness; and just as the people were going up to the house of God, where I would joy to go with them, that precious word came into my mind and quieted me—‘Thine eyes shall see the King in his beauty; they shall behold the land that is very far off.’—Isaiah xxxiii. 17. In that blessed word I had a happy Communion Sabbath. The return of the Communion occasion always brings new thirsting to my mind, and I am afraid of murmuring against God, for I would have no will of my own, but in all things my will run into His will.”
“Consider the thirsting of David, which he compares to the thirsting of the hart for the water-brooks, according to some, when on a hot summer day and in the chase; and according to others, when the young serpents, which he swallows in the grass, gripes and bites him sorely, he gets frantic with thirst for the water-brooks, and sets off with all his strength, roaring as he goes, until he drowns his thirst and the serpents in the pure water-brooks. How mighty must the thirsting of David have been when he could get no other comparison to it. There are bounds for your thirsting?”
“Yes, sir; but being under the afflicting hand of God, who is full of mercy and makes my bed of sickness so comfortable to me, I am in danger of murmuring if I entertain a desire of being any otherwise situated than I am; and this makes me fear that my thirsting for the Communion table amounts to a murmuring against the doing of the Lord, who doeth all things with infinite wisdom. But, sir, every return of a Communion Sabbath, though I am withheld from the Lord’s table in His sanctuary, brings new refreshment to me, and I am happy.”
“I fear I have exhausted your strength too much?” “Well, sir, I do feel extremely weak—scarce able to give utterance to my thoughts.”
“Then I shall retire, wishing you the presence and communion of the Lord on a Communion Sabbath.”
“I wish you, sir, a feast of fat things, full of marrow.”
10th May.
“How are you to-day, Betsy?” “Just, sir, as you have often seen me before—weak and painful.”
“Where do you feel most pain?” “Oh, sir, I am pained all over, but my head and breast have most pain.”
“Is every part of my body pained?” “Yes, sir; I have constant and sharp pain in every part of my body. And formerly I used to think that I could not bear the pain I have when least pained without crying out, but grace enables me to bear most pain without crying out.”
“Grace—how wonderful a thing it is.” “Yes, sir, it is wonderful.”
“How is your sight?” “Some times of the day, on Friday, I could discern the bodily appearance of a person being near me, and the same only sometimes to-day. But, sir, have you had much to-day of the good things of God in His sanctuary?” “I have heard much and I have seen much. The action sermon was upon these words: ‘For ye were as sheep going astray, but are now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls.'”
“That is in the second chapter of the first Epistle of Peter.”
“Yes; you seem acquainted with it.” “Yes, but not so much as I might nor so much as I ought.”
“Now, since you have catechised me, I wish to be catechist next. How has the day passed with you?” “I have been sitting under His shadow with great delight, and His fruit has been sweet unto my taste. I have had a good day, sir. The Scripture which came to my mind in November, when the people were going to meet with the Lord at His table, came to me here on a bed of affliction, to tell me ‘Thine eyes shall see the King in his beauty; they shall behold the land that is very far off.’ This kept me up in the forenoon, and in the afternoon the twelfth of Isaiah, 1-3, came into my mind, which kept me meditating. I have been all day richly drawing out of the wells of His blessed promises.”
“What day is that specified?” “The day of conversion and reconciliation with God.”
“And what wells are those wells of salvation?” “The promises of the Gospel, filled with the fulness of Christ.”
“And what water is that water clear as crystal? What is its clearness?” “Its holiness.”
“And what is its quality?” “It is the water of life.”
“Yes, of the river of life, clear as crystal, proceeding from the throne of God and of the Lamb. Though the merits of His death be the fountain opened in the house of David, I would rather say that His divinity, covenant, manhood, offices, death, resurrection, ascension, and intercession, are the wells of salvation; and His promises the golden pipes from the wells, any one of which, when the soul gets into the mouth of faith in his heart, then he draws from these wells the water of life freely.”
12th May.
Found her writing.
15th.
Found her jaws had locked in the morning, about four o’clock.
19th.
Came home, and found her able to tell me that her jaws had opened about ten o’clock in the forenoon. Four days and six hours had they been shut.
“Well, Betsy, how have you been on this occasion?” “I cannot describe to you my burning pain, but grace was made sufficient for me. Though my bodily pain was so great, my joy in God—from His gracious presence and fellowship—was equally great, yea greater, and how then could I murmur or complain? I did not think I was to return any more to the world; and how I longed to be away and be with Christ, yet willing to remain and submit, if it should be God’s pleasure. A mustard blister was applied to my head, but had no other effect than to give burning pain, confuse, and derange my head. On Saturday leeches were applied to my breast, which made me so weak, and being deranged with the mustard blister so much, that part of the time I was insensible, and thought the hour was come, which all others also thought. A rumbling came into my throat, which could not get out, my jaws being bound in each other, when a neighbour who stood near me thought the time was now come. I came round, however, and the leeches were again applied on Sabbath and this blister under my chin. My jaws opened this forenoon, but the means used have not removed the pain in my head as usual, nor did they do so these few last times I have had a locked jaw.”
“What was your support in the approach of death?” “When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee.”
“That, indeed, was sufficient. Well, how were your joys occasioned? Were they by contemplation—thoughts of God, of Christ, of glory, heaven, and of being there, arising of themselves in your mind; or were they by a portion of the divine Word coming into my mind?” “It was by some portion of the Word of God coming into my mind, and not without the Word.”
19th June.
“Well, Betsy, how are you to-day?” “I have been lower, sir.”
“What news have you for me since I saw you last?” “I have had a locked jaw three different times since you went away—once for twenty-four hours, another for forty-eight hours, and that last time for fifty hours. This day three weeks, in the forenoon, I lost the strength of my left side from my shoulder, where it commenced, down to my toes; and this day fortnight I lost the strength of my right side from my waist downward. I felt a dart of sharp pain in the top of my left shoulder, suddenly followed by a shock which shook my whole body, as if it were to throw me out of the bed. As the shock subsided I felt my whole left side falling down dead. At the commencement of the shock that passage came hastily into my mind—‘Thy shoes shall be iron and brass; and as thy days, so shall thy strength be’ (Deut. xxxiii. 25), which both strengthened and reconciled me to what was coming, and made me to say—‘It is well; let him do what seemeth unto him good.’ The next shock not only took away my strength but also affected my mind—my memory particularly—and partly my speech. I thought that the Lord thus was giving me warning; sent thus death upon part of my body, as a fore-runner of the death that is to terminate my life here below, and I began to say, ‘Oh, that my heart were more dead to the things of time, and my affections more elevated and set upon things in heaven.’”
I touched her left arm, and asked if she felt me touching her. “No, sir, I do not; every part of my body, except my right arm, the right side of my waist, and my head, is quite insensible and powerless.”
“Your arm is very tight.” “Yes, sir, because it is so much swollen. When in spring it was measured above the elbow—just where your hand is—it measured thirteen inches round.”
22nd June.
I took occasion to intimate to Betsy that I had taken down so much of her verbal communication, of which she was not aware. When I showed this book to her she said, “Ah, sir, when did I speak all that?”
“Will you allow me to read the whole to you, and then you shall know when and whether you have spoken all or not?”
“Well, sir, I have no objections that you should read it.”
After having done so, I asked, “Do you now recollect and own to have spoken not only all, but do you recognise your own words?” “Oh, yes, sir.”
“Is there any word you would alter or amend?” “Only two, sir.”
“Are you displeased that I took this method of preserving this small portion of your communications?” “Oh, no, sir, provided you keep it secret, particularly while I am here.”
“I shall do so. Well, Betsy, I particularly wish for more of the working of your mind after your deliverance from bondage. You know, we broke off that suddenly and did not recur to it again.” “Well, sir, I have no objections to give you that, but at present I am so exhausted that I cannot do it. In the turn of the evening I always get so feverish. Only feel the heat in my hand and the quickness of my pulse, by what they were when you came in.”
“Well, I shall not continue longer to-day; but shall I come to-morrow?” “If you please, sir.”
“Then I shall put off leaving town till the two or four o’clock coach. The Lord be with you.”
(To be Continued.)