A Godly Young Woman who passed through much tribulation, and died at Edinburgh in 1839.
BY THE LATE REV. FRANCIS M’BEAN, FREE CHURCH,
FORT-AUGUSTUS.
(Continued from vol. xv., page 462.)
CONVERSATIONS WITH BETSY LINDSAY.
ON the 20th of July I wrote her, of which the following is one paragraph:—
“You speak of a measure of insight you had into eternal love and the glories treasured up in Christ, on my using a certain expression in prayer, and that you could not well bear more. That insight was owing to the gentle leading of the Divine Spirit and the lively vigour of your own mind, more than to anything in me. You could not well bear more! Poor, weak, sickly lassie, I believe you. Wonder that you had discovered to you what you could bear. Oh, that I had such a measure of true saving fellowship with the Father and with His Son, Jesus Christ, as I could bear! But what if you were kept a twelvemonth upon the rack by such an insight and by such a discovery? Sure it is you would have a tale to tell! But oh, think of an eternity in the wonderful chambers of redeeming love, the chambers of the great covenant of grace, and the chambers of the merits of Emmanuel! Oh, what a prospect I see before a poor, bed-ridden lassie, in an upper corner in the back streets of Edinburgh, for whom the world would not give a groat! A faint, distant blink—the glimmerings of a twilight—was enough for you to bear, and it was a little heaven; but think of the throwing open of the gates of those treasures! Is it not a little heaven to be gently caught up in the contemplation of it? And what must it be to behold those treasures in their unveiled and glorious splendour? The leadings of the Divine Spirit to look through a Scripture as through a small window or crevice, and His unfolding and discovering to the faith and apprehension of the soul the treasures of redeeming love, swells the heart as big as that it would seem to take in a whole Christ to itself; and oh, how craving and greedy the soul gets then! Nothing will do but redeeming love, love, love, even on. Witness the spouse, ‘Stay me with flagons’ of more love; and Peter on the mount—that if the veil should not be drawn, the heart would well-nigh burst the cage. ‘Love is strong as death.’ If there be such strong craving and violence in a small measure of heavenly love shed abroad in the heart clogged with flesh, what will it be in heaven? Methinks I see John’s countless myriads, with their devouring cravings of strong love in the heart of each, and all set upon the Fountain, each like to swallow up the Fountain himself; and when I see them all together, with such devouring appetites and thirst of love, with which they set so greedily to the Fountain over and above them, I am like to say, ‘Surely they will have the Fountain run dry ere it be time for the sun to go down.’ Then, seeing the devouring appetite and thirst of love are so mighty—’a most vehement flame’—and nothing now to satisfy it, they will get frantic, heaven will become all confusion, and they will tear down its rafters with their vehement craving and loud and devouring crying for an infinite and full Fountain to quiet them. But what is that thou sayest, Betsy? ‘Stay, stay, sir, correct thyself. Run the Fountain dry? The Fountain is everlasting.’ Ah, Betsy, everlasting! Is it so? How know you that? Jehovah hath said, ‘I have loved thee with an everlasting love.’ What a word—everlasting love! What a full Bible of itself. Then seeing it is so, ye myriads, spare not the Fountain; whet your devouring appetites; no danger of scarcity. Rouse your affections to a devouring flame, and drown your flames in the Fountain. ‘Drink, yea, drink abundantly, oh beloved.’ Let your streamlets become rivers, and your rivers become oceans—infinity and everlasting lie before you. ‘Happy art thou, O Israel: who is like unto thee, O people saved by the Lord’—Deut. xxxiii. 29. Oh, sottish, giddy, gabby professors, who are strangers to this love, hide yourselves with shame in your closets until ye get your hearts on fire and your affections on flame with this love; then come out and take your places as professors under Christ’s glorious banner of love—a banner woven of love, dyed red in the blood of love, fastened to a flagstaff of love, waving in the wind of love, held up by the right arm of love, over a banqueting house of love, where all the wine is love, and all the joy is love.”
Three days before writing her, of which the above is one paragraph, I received the following letter from her, dated—
“17 DALRYMPLE PLACE, 6th July, 1836.
“REV. AND WORTHY SIR,—May grace, mercy, and peace be with you, from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ. Sir, since the last time I wrote to you, the thought that it has been miscarried, and will have exposed religion to scorn, has distressed me much, which has kept me longer from writing than I would have been. This is the first time I have put pen to paper since I wrote to you. Oh, that the Lord would come and take glory to Himself out of a poor nothing! I am afraid, in attempting to write, I only hurt His glorious and most sweet cause. I have such a deceitful heart that when I would do good evil is present with me, which leads me often to say, ‘Surely I am more brutish than any; I am as a beast before Him.’ And were it not that He has proclaimed His name, ‘I am the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering,’ I would long ere this time have been in the bottomless pit, even since I began to be a professor. But He is long-suffering and abundant in goodness and truth, and whom He loves once He loves unto the end, for he rests in His love. Oh, what a wonder that ever He should have manifested such love to me; but it’s just this—He loved me because He loved me; not for anything in me but according to His mercy He saved me by the washing of regeneration and renewing of His Holy Spirit. I think it will be part of the wonder in heaven that ever God should have condescended to make such sinful worms partakers of grace in time and glory in eternity. But it will be the wonder of wonders the way which He took to manifest that love, which was by giving up His only and well-beloved Son to the ignominious death of the Cross; and nothing less would do. Therefore it pleased the Father to bruise Him, and in Him the law was magnified and made honourable. Oh, for a spring tide of this to overflow the banks of corruptions which are in me and wash them quite away! Oh, sir, you could not believe the temptations and corruptions I have to fight against. Oh, to be altogether delivered from all legal and self-seeking, for often I find—as Marion Laird expresses it—self would dethrone Christ from my heart and rob Him of His crown. Oh, to be deeply and truly humbled in dust and ashes at the feet of Emmanuel! I find much, much, to learn. I feel such chambers of imagery as would more than realise Ezekiel’s vision. Oh, to be delivered from such a wicked heart! No wonder Job cried, ‘I loathe it, I would not live always here.’ Oh, to be altogether free from sin, to see Jesus as He is, and be made like unto Him! Oh, to be among that glorious and fair company, where they no more complain of cold hearts and icy affections, but where they all flame with love to the blessed Redeemer. I have often been much straitened in prayer this some time, so that I could not utter a word, but sigh and groan; but it’s in myself. Oh, how justly may the words be applied to me which Jesus said to His disciples, ‘O faithless and perverse generation, how long shall I be with you and suffer you?’
“Dear Sir, you will remember the account you gave me of the revivals that were at the Kirk of Shotts, Cambuslang, and Kilsyth, and how much I was cheered by it. I have been reading an account these some days the very same. I think the Lord has been pleased to bless it for the good of my soul in the way of stirring me up; for while I was reading it He laid a concern on my spirit both for Church and land, and I got liberty to plead with Him, and got the promise that He would yet return and build up Zion, and make the place of His feet glorious in these covenanted lands, although the covenants have long lain buried. And I was made to lay hold on that word by faith—’For the Lord will not cast off his people, neither will he forsake his inheritance. But judgment shall return unto righteousness, and all the upright in heart shall follow after it.’ Oh, sir, wrestle with the Lord, that He would return and pour out His Spirit upon His heritage, to refresh her now when she is very weary. Oh, for a revival of a covenanted work of reformation! Oh, shall ever Scotland see such days again? Yes, surely she shall, for the Lord is faithful to His word. He will return and have mercy upon her; He will remember His covenant. You will know nothing of deadness where you are in comparison to what it is here, for here there is nothing but deadness all around. Oh, for the outpouring of the Spirit! Oh, for God’s full flood! For until the Spirit be poured from on high nothing shall come up upon our hearts but briers and thorns. Oh, for the happy time when all shall know the Lord, when righteousness shall flow down our streets as a river, and iniquity as ashamed shall hide her face! Then shall the divisions of Zion be healed, and the Church shall be like unto Christ’s seamless garment—all in one.
“I have had another attack of the locked jaw, which lasted two days only, but I do not think I ever was brought so low in so short a time; yet I find every touch of the rod to be needful, and in covenant love. The Lord gave me sweet comfort from that word, ‘Fear not, it is I; be not afraid,’ with that word, ‘Unto you who believe, he is precious’; to which I had to say, ‘He is the chief among ten thousand, and altogether lovely’ to my soul. ‘This is my Beloved and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.’
“I had also a very sweet time at the Sacrament. On the Sabbath morning I was much weighed down on account of sin, but that word was brought with life and power to my soul—’Ye are complete in him,’ with that, ‘I am he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore. Amen.’ Oh, the beauty I saw in Him being set up from everlasting as the Surety of His people, which was a sweet meditation to me for some time; but He soon veiled His glory again, and left me to cry, ‘Whither is my Beloved gone? and whither is he turned aside?’—from which I saw that the Lord would have me live more by faith and not by sense. I am wearying very much to hear from you, sir. I feel the want of your visits very much, but I bless the Lord that I heard you preach before you went away. Let me know how your sister is; she has been much in my mind this some time, and I feel very anxious to know how she is. Oh, tell her to make sure work for eternity. What a word eternity is! Oh, to flee—to continue fleeing—to the refuge for lost souls! Do not forget to pray for me. And may He who walks in the midst of the golden candlesticks be with you, to support you in all your trials and difficulties; and may He reward you for your kindness to me.—From your unworthy servant, ELIZABETH LINDSAY.
“P.S.—Be pleased, sir, to favour me with a letter soon, and let me know if Margaret M’Kenzie be still in the wilderness, and also how Anne M’Leod is. I am able to lift my left arm now, and to move the rest of my body that I wanted the power of, and I think I am rather better than I was; but I find as my strength increases a little, the pain at my heart gets more vehement. Yet I have to say the Lord deals gently with me. I am glad, for your own sake, that you did not need to come here in May, although I should have been happy to have seen you.”
“17 DALRYMPLE PLACE,
EDINBURGH, 4th March, 1837.
“REV. AND WORTHY SIR,—I received your letter of the 20th July on the 2nd of August. I am glad you received my two letters, but had I known that it was to be so long before you arrived in Harris, I would not have troubled you with a letter so soon. It has often grieved me that I wrote that letter. Pray, sir, that I may not be left to dishonour God. I am exceedingly sorry that there should have been any mistake; but I thank you for mentioning it to me. You say that I said in my letter—’That night, after I was out of the church, although the 143rd Psalm was my chief song.’ Now, I thought that I had said—’Although the 103rd Psalm was my chief song, the 145th Psalm was also very sweet to me.’ And so it was, and it was brought particularly to my remembrance that night I was privileged to hear you preach, as well as many other things which I seemed to have almost forgot, so that I have to say the Holy Spirit brings things new and old out of His treasures. I have found much comfort from your letter, sir. It has been the means of quickening and reviving me. I have got much from these words: ‘But, oh, think of an eternity in the wonderful chambers of redeeming love, the chambers of the great covenant of grace, and the chambers of the merits of Emmanuel!’ What a prospect indeed! Oh, how glorious is the plan of redemption that secures glory and honour to the perfections of the Godhead, and yet can inspire a guilty, vile sinner like me with the hope of eternal life! What an unspeakable mercy that God found out a way whereby He could be just and yet the Justifier of the sinner, and that through this channel—a crucified Redeemer—He could reveal Himself a God of love and a God of light, for with Him there is no darkness at all. All His dispensations are light; however afflictive and dark they may appear at present, in due time they will appear so. ‘In thy light we shall see light’ clearly. By this time you cannot but think me very ungrateful. Your letter of the 24th November showed me that you were displeased at me for not answering your first letter. I would cheerfully have answered it, sir—it is my privilege to do so, a privilege of which I am not worthy—but I lost my eyesight a few days after receiving your letter, and it was six weeks before I again saw the light. As soon as ever I could see to write a word I began to write this letter, which was on the 10th of October, but from weakness and pain I was unable to finish it, and in the month of November I had to lay it aside, never expecting that I would write any more; but the Lord’s way is in the sea and His path in the great waters, and His footsteps are not known. He has said He will lead the blind by a way they know not, and He has often done so with me—a poor, short-sighted, blind sinner—and made me to walk in paths that I had not trod. How great is His goodness; how great is His mercy—mercy that lasts for aye! It was on the morning of the 15th December that I received your last letter, sir, but I was unable to read the contents of it. When my mother put it into my hand the exercise of trying to hold it made me faint. I had been seized on the 13th with violent convulsions, which continued nearly three weeks, day and night, almost constantly; and from their violence my eyes were so much started, that for six weeks they had to be kept bandaged down. My eyesight was quite gone, and many of my friends despaired of my ever getting it again even after the convulsions began to abate. But it never gave me one uneasy thought. I knew if it was good for me, or for the glory of God, I would get it again; and if not, I thought I could be willing to want it, so that the eyes of my understanding were but opened to behold wondrous things out of the law of God. And now it has pleased the Lord to restore my eyesight once more, and oh, that it may be for His glory! As I was not able to hold a book in my hand when I began to see, your letter was the first I read, and truly may I say, ‘As cold water is to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far country.’ I may well say your letter contained good news, when it told me of sinners being mightily convinced of sin, and brought from darkness unto light, and from the power of Satan unto God. May the Lord still work in them by His mighty power, and give you many souls for your hire. ‘Of Zion it shall be said, This and that man was born in her; and the Highest himself shall establish her.’ The account you gave me of the Sacrament, and what you said of those godly women whose hearts were so enlarged and so warmed with the love of Jesus, I enjoyed very much. You mentioned that you gave me this short account because you knew I take an interest in the prosperity of Zion, and because I know something of that love that influences the heart. Would that it were so! I think I have much reason to fear whether I have ever experienced this love at all, because of my cold indifference towards God and His dear people. But I think, if my heart deceive me not, I have no greater joy than to hear of the prosperity of Zion. ‘If thee, Jerusalem, I forget, Skill part from my right hand.’
Oh, for the time when the Redeemer’s kingdom shall be extended from sea to sea, from shore to shore, and from the river to the ends of the earth. May the Lord hasten it in His time.
ELIZABETH LINDSAY.”
(To be Continued.)
Death of Dr. Goodwin.—”Ah!” said Dr. Goodwin, in his last moments, “is this dying? How have I dreaded as an enemy this smiling friend!”