THE health of Mr. Ebenezer Erskine had, for some time past, been in a declining state. His originally vigorous constitution had been gradually yielding to the increasing infirmities of age. For a short while before his death, he had become unfit to sustain the accumulated load of official duty connected with the public situation which he occupied as a minister of the gospel. His affectionate people, in order to relieve him from the active duties of his office, invited his nephew, Mr. James Erskine, to take part with him in the work of the ministry; and this amiable youth was ordained to be the colleague and successor of his uncle on the 22nd of January, 1752. Only a short interval elapsed after the death of his brother Ralph, when Ebenezer was called upon to put off the earthly house of his tabernacle. When he heard of his brother’s death, he exclaimed, “And is Ralph gone? He has twice got the start of me; he was first in Christ, and now he is first in glory.” In a letter written to a friend soon after this event, he says, “According to the course of nature, it was my turn to have gone off before him. But the will of the good and sovereign God has determined otherwise, and that I should tarry behind for a while in this weary wilderness. It seems I am not yet made meet to be a partaker of the inheritance of the saints in light, but need to be more beaten in the wilderness with the hammer of affliction, before I come to the upper temple and sanctuary. But good is the will of the Lord.”
Though he was at this time in a very debilitated state, through the severity of his trouble, yet at the earnest request of his people, who were desirous to see and hear him once more before his departure from them, he went from his bed to the pulpit, and preached for half an hour from these words, “I know that my Redeemer liveth;” he then returned from the pulpit to his bed. This discourse was one which had been composed by him with a view to the improvement of the death of his brother. “His last sermon (his biographer informs us) was literally preached from his bed to a company assembled in his room, where he baptized a child, after discoursing on a text with which he had particularly wished to finish his ministry, viz., Psalm xlviij. 14, ‘This God is our God for ever and ever; he will be our guide even unto death.'”
The following account of the holy exercise of this eminent minister, in his last illness, and of the concluding scene of his life, extracted from Dr. Fraser’s interesting memoir, is deserving of a place in this record.
“His private conversation with relatives and other kind inquirers, during his last illness, was at once cheerful and edifying. He often expressed himself in language to this effect: ‘I have always found my times of severe affliction my best times. Many blasts I have endured through life; but I had this comfort under them, a good God, a good conscience, a good cause.’ When one of his elders thus accosted him, ‘Sir, you have given us many good advices, may I ask what you are now doing with your own soul?’ ‘I am just doing with it,’ he replied, ‘what I did forty years ago; I am resting on that word, “I am the Lord thy God.” Another friend, surprised at the serenity and cheerfulness he possessed in the immediate view of death and eternity, put the question, ‘Sir, are you not afraid of your sins?’ ‘Indeed no,’ was his answer, ‘ever since I knew Christ, I have never thought highly of my frames and duties, nor am I slavishly afraid of my sins.’
“To several friends who were conversing with him one afternoon, he expressed his assurance of perfect bliss in the following memorable words:—’O, sirs, my body is now become a very disagreeable habitation for my soul; but when my soul goes out of my body, it will as naturally fly into the bosom of Jesus, as a stone will fall to the centre.’ Or, as others relate the anecdote, he said, what is entirely to the same effect, and what probably he also uttered, either then or about the same time; ‘I know that when my soul forsakes this tabernacle of clay, it will fly as naturally to my Saviour’s bosom as the bird to its beloved nest.’ To a relative he one day said, ‘While age and infirmities are increasing, I desire to wait all the days of my appointed time till my change come, looking out for the everlasting day of the immediate enjoyment of the Lord, when sighing and sinning shall have an everlasting end.’ To another of his relations who came to see him, and began to comfort him thus, ‘I hope you get now and then a blink to bear up your spirit under your affliction,’ he promptly returned this spirited reply ‘I know more of words than of blinks. Though he slay me, yet I will trust in him. The covenant is my charter; and if it had not been for that blessed word, my hope and strength had perished from the Lord.’ To his beloved children he unbosomed himself in the most endearing manner, mingling consolation with his dying counsels: ‘Though I die, the Lord liveth. I have known more of God since I came to this bed, than through all my life.’
“During the night on which he finished his earthly career, Mrs. Fisher having come from Glasgow to visit her dying father, was sitting in the apartment where he lay, and engaged in reading. Awakening from a slumber, he said, ‘What book is that, my dear, you are reading?’ ‘It is your sermon, father,’ she replied, ‘on that text, “I am the Lord thy God.”‘” ‘O woman,’ said he then, ‘that is the best sermon ever I preached.’ The discourse had proved very refreshing to himself, as well as to many of his hearers. A few minutes after that expression had fallen from his lips, he requested his daughter to bring the table and candle near the bed; and having shut his eyes, and laid his hand under his cheek, he quietly breathed out his soul into the hands of his Redeemer, on the 2nd of June, 1754. Had he lived twenty-four days longer, he would have finished the seventy-fourth year of his age; and had he been spared three months more, he would have completed the fifty-first of his ministry, having resided twenty-eight years at Portmoak, and nearly twenty-three at Stirling.”—Mackerron’s History of the Secession.