(WRITTEN BY HER OWN HAND.)
(Continued from page 227.)
IT was also a very refreshful day to me in public, where we had a stranger minister on these words, “O love the Lord, ye his saints,” where he spoke of God’s love to His people, and that His people should, in gratitude, love Him again. My very heart went out with what was said, for I saw it my duty in a particular manner: but all this was nothing to what I met with. After sermons were over, when I came home, I retired to the fields, where the Lord Himself preached a sermon of love to my soul, both affectionately, convincingly, and distinctly, so that I was made both to see and hear the Lord’s voice as to these particulars:—First, What He hath done for my soul, and how many signal tokens of His love He hath bestowed on me, which many of His own dear children did not experience in such a measure. Secondly, How ungrateful I had proved in mismanaging all these, and had given my love unreservedly to other things. Thirdly, That He was yet willing to give me new proofs of His love for all that I had done. Then the 16th chapter of Ezekiel was presented to me, from the beginning to the end, which was my very picture drawn, for there was not one verse but was made application of to me, as many times it had been before. O but this was a sweet place to me! I having got such a lively discovery of the love of God in Christ to poor unworthy me. O then as I longed to be altogether with Him, where there would be no more parting, and where a body of sin and death would trouble me no more! For I found the motions and strong evils of a corrupt nature continuing with me; no mastery could I get of this, meet with what I could. I cannot pass this without wondering at, and admiring the Lord’s way with me. When I am under sad distempers of soul, and giving way to sinful thoughts and inclinations, then I think surely the Lord will come against me in some terrible manner in judgment, for I cannot pass without some remarkable stroke; but, glory to His holy name, His thoughts are not as my thoughts, neither His ways my ways, for His way with me is wholly love, and not terror. Now did the Lord’s candle shine for some short time on my tabernacle. I got leave to be sometimes exercising that sweet duty of meditation, but especially when in the fields.
There was a word that ran much with me on all occasions, both in trouble and when otherwise, “O that I had wings like a dove, for then would I fly away and be at rest! There were several things in a winged fowl that I, with my soul, longed for:—First, Birds—it is their element to be above. O when will it be so with me! I am so frequently wallowing in the mire of earthly thoughts that it is seldom—and for a wonder—that they are above. O that, when my soul is there, I had wings like a dove to fly and stay above! Secondly, Birds—though it be their element to live above, yet they must of necessity come down to the earth for food to themselves and their young; yet, I observe, that they do not dwell there as the beasts do, for, having got what is necessary, they mount up again. O if it were so with me, who must have a lawful employment for food and raiment; yet, “having these things, therewith to be content,” and not to dwell there as the men of the world do, but to mount up and dwell where Christ is! “O to have wings like a dove!” Thirdly, Birds—they are soon startled at the appearance of a snare, so that, ere ye come near them, they mount up with their wings and fly away. O then, to be so wise as to shun all appearance of evil, and at the apprehension of a snare to mount up to that strong shelter, Jesus Christ, where the enemy of our salvation could not follow! Fourthly, Birds are harmless creatures—do harm to none: we are called all to be harmless as doves, and to have a conscience void of offence toward God and man.
But, passing this, there is one thing I forgot to remark in its own proper place, it being before this time, in and about the month of June last. I being under some damps of spirit, that Sabbath the Sacrament was given at Lasswade, I went there only to hear, not designing to communicate. I was no sooner entered the kirk door, but that word ran much with me (Psalm lxxiii.), “Truly God is good to Israel.” But the word that was made most refreshful to me was Mr. James Hart on Cant. i. 4, “The King hath brought me into his chamber: let us be glad;” where he held forth the sweet fellowship Christ and believers have together, and what these chambers were he spoke sweetly to; and I was in a wonderful manner helped to make application, and durst not but acknowledge He had taken me into His chambers, and was helped to believe what He had done He would yet do. O but this was a soul-refreshing sermon to me.
Through the whole summer I had my ups and my downs very frequently, and though there was much of the goodness of God discovered to me at many different times, yet I was in sore distress with a very heavy body of sin and death, that I thought it was even inconsistent with the being of grace.
About the beginning of September the Sacrament was given at Leith. I had a great longing to be there, I was such a needy creature, and my very errand then was, that the Lord would make out some promises to me for my sanctification anent a particular predominant which stuck fast by me, notwithstanding I had gotten many sweet promises, “That I should get the victory, and that sin should not have the dominion over me.” During the time of this Communion I could observe no out-gate of this, but rather worse; only I was much refreshed with a word Mr. David Williamson said at the table, it suited my case so near: “O,” says he, “may be there is some poor body here that cannot trust promises any longer! they must have something in hand to trade with: they will not be satisfied with bonds, but present payment.” O but my heart cried, That is my name and surname. But this was not the Lord’s time to do it to me, for the motions of sin grew stronger and stronger, so that I was like to give over believing it would be better. My trouble came to a very great height, though it was not observable to any; it was kept secret between the Lord and my soul, otherwise I had been a reproach to religion.
A little time after this I was in such an extreme trouble that I could no longer get it borne within, but vent it must have, or then I must swalt, which I did with bitter cries and tears in the presence of some of the family, who pitied me very much; but none knew what the matter of my trouble was. For the providence of God so ordered it, that at this very time I took a sore throat which proved very dangerous and painful, so they thought it was this that troubled me, and all sorts of medicines were got and applied for my health and recovery. But O the terrible conflict that was on my spirit and mind made all other pains no more to me than the point of a pin in comparison to the other; only, I bless the Lord I had any trouble visible to complain of to cover my invisible trouble, which was nameless. In this case I kept my bed for some days. The medicine that was applied was made effectual to my throat, but none could apply medicine for my inward sores till He, Whose medicine is like Himself (the Lord Jesus Christ), sweet, easy, refreshful, and suitable, and that my soul knoweth right well.
On Sabbath I was very ill, so that night I could get no sleep, but tossed up and down till my weary body fainted, and I was like to give over altogether; then came that sweet word with life and power, “He from his temple heard my voice, to his ears came my cry” (Psalm xviii. 6); and then was He pleased to favour me with more than an ordinary measure of His presence, and these two scriptures came along with it (Exod. xv. 26), “I am the Lord that healeth thee;” (Psalm ciii.), “Who pardoneth all thy sins, who healeth all thy diseases.” The impression of this was so sweet that it put me to that refreshful duty of meditation on this sweet physician, Jesus, and wherein He excels all others. I have ground to say, indeed, He sent His word, and healed me, instrumentally; but Himself is the all in all to me. Then did I sensibly revive and recover. And the impressions of what I had met with continued with me for a considerable time; and though the body of death, the old man, continued in me, yet it did not reign and rage as formerly, which was a great mercy to me, known to none but myself. O that I were helped to glorify this condescending Lord who so wonderfully surprised me with unexpected mercy!
Sometime after this I fell under some damps again. And O but I find it difficult to believe in the dark when I want sense in hand! I compare myself sometimes to Peter. When I am under the sense of the Lord’s love, then I say, “Lord, bid me to do what thou wilt, and I will do it;” but when He bids me come to Him on the waters of cross providence and afflictions, then I begin to sink, and faith fails me.
I remember, upon the last Sabbath of December, I was very much cast down with the sense of indwelling corruption, and that day Mr. Thomas Paterson preached on these words, “If man thinketh himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself.” I was ill ere I came out, but, indeed, in the time of this sermon I grew worse and worse, and was tormented in the time of hearing, and I longed to be at home, where I might get my heart poured out before the Lord; and when I came home I retired to a secret place. I think I was never in a greater distress in my life; my very bowels were troubled within me. O the sore oppression that was on my spirit! crying out with bitter lamentation, “O thou that styleth Thyself the hearer of prayer! Thy people call on Thee as such. I myself once thought Thee to be so to me. O why then am I thus oppressed with the delay of the answer of prayer so as I cannot understand it? If it be not Thy will to answer this thing, then why is my desire so strong after it? Have I not given Thee my will to be ordered according to Thy will? Why then is my will and desire after what Thou wilt not? O Lord, answer me in this one thing.” But I was answered with silence. Thus did I end this old year in much grief and vexation.
1705.—In the beginning of the year 1705, the Lord was pleased to take off the vexing load and torment that I had on my spirit, so that I got duties gone about with much more calmness and quietness; yea, He was pleased to shine on me, and I believed an outgate was fast approaching, but still I was made to cry for counsel and direction. Upon the 29th of January, I got something like a sensible answer of this prayer, but whether in mercy or judgment I know not: and this word came along with it (Zech. xiv. 6, 7), “The day shall not be clear nor dark, but at even tide it shall be light:” so that I was, as before, entered again to grapple in the dark with this sore difficulty, yet the burden was taken off in a great measure; but, as one burden goes off another is laid on, and that a very weighty one, the like of which I never met with before in less or more, and that was the reproach of tongues. Now was that word made out to me, which I marked out:—”Report, say they, and we will report; come, let us smite him with the tongue.” There were some things in this trial that made it very bitter: First, It came from those that were professors of religion, for whom I had a very great esteem, and they deserved it. They also seemed to have the same respect for me; so that when these things were told me, I could not believe but that they were a misreport, till the event made it appear. There were others also, that I cannot say so much on their behalf, that joined in this matter to make my life uneasy with those in the family who reproached me, and this by whispering secretly, and that with several, till at last it was made known to me, to my grief and sorrow, I being altogether unacquainted with this way of entertainment. They marked my steps and words to find occasion against me. When I had gone to a secret place to pray, they would say it was for another end I went there! or, if I had been making merry among them, they would have caught my words, and made me an object of their laughter behind my back. When this was made known to me, it proved a very smarting difficulty, and turned me very melancholy, so that I became heartless and dull, and desired as little as possible to be among company, but mourning and lamenting, saying, with David, “Reproach hath broken my heart.” I took this case before the Lord, inquiring the cause of it, where I saw four reasons for it: First, to fulfil the Word I was warned of some time ago. Secondly, To show His sovereignty over me as His creature; might He not do with me as He pleases? Thirdly, To fill up my experience, and make me to sympathize and bear burden with those that are under this trial. Fourthly, That His power might be seen in bringing me safely through the trial, as He had done through others.
The Lord, at this time, was very gracious and condescending to me, and suffered me frequently to pour out my mind before Him, and my complaint to Him; and many sweet words I got to support me under this trial, considering that it was not a singular trial, for the Lord’s people, in all ages, have met with the like, both in the Old Testament and in the New, and many of the godly, in my own day, have experienced it; but above all, the sweet Lord Jesus Christ, that Lamb of God, who was innocent and pure in His nature, who never sinned, yet He met with it: doth it not then become me to bear it patiently and not to fret? But yet I found my proud heart could not away with it, neither could I any longer contain this within myself. There being a godly woman near to the place, with whom I had near correspondence, to her I told my complaint, who sympathized with me, and gave me her best advice. My life became very burdensome to me in this family, so I resolved to leave it. This place I left about the middle of May, and went to Jerviswood’s family in Edinburgh. But Providence so ordered it that I was sent to the country, which was at Melliston, in the south. This was unexpected, but yet I willingly complied with it. As we were in the way going there, about the middle of the day, I retired a little to the fields secretly, in which place the Lord gave me a blink and a sweet promise that He would be with me, and revive me as the corn and as the dew upon Israel, and I should grow as the lily and send forth branches as Lebanon. This encouraged me in my journey there, where I was kindly received and entertained.
Now, as for the Lord’s way with me in that place, I cannot but remark, some few days after I came there, the Sacrament was given at Stitchel, to which place I went, and on Saturday I met with very much sweetness in the sermons, for it was soul-comforting news I heard there. The first text was in Isaiah, on these words, “I will pour water upon him that is thirsty, and floods upon the dry ground,” where the very desire of my soul was spoken to, and I was made to apply it. The other text was, “To this man will I look, even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit.” This was also a blessed sermon to me, where I thought the Lord was giving me an invitation to come to His blessed table to-morrow; and accordingly I went, and blessed be God, He was not altogether a hiding God; but I got not what I would have been at. We were very much exhorted to watchfulness, and to be on our guard, which was very sweet to me in hearing; but, I may say it to my great shame, I had not so much delight in putting it in practice, for I soon let my heart wander on trifles of no value, so that I soon lost my good motions by my own neglect. But, what shall I say? My winter season was lengthened out in a great measure; sometimes a fair day and a warm blink, then presently a storm on the back of it from Satan, my own corruptions, and a wicked world. Sometimes light breaks in so as I could read the love of God in Christ Jesus to my poor soul, and that there shall be an accomplishment of these long delayed promises to my comfort; but then, ere ever I was aware, darkness came and overshadowed all, so that I was a prey to unbelief and discouragement. Through this summer season I had several occasions of Communions in that place, for which I bless the Lord, and also for our ordinary Sabbath Day’s sermons, which were very refreshful to me, yet I remained much in the dark.
There is another thing I cannot forbear to remark concerning my outward affairs in this family. I must acknowledge every one was more civil to me and kind than another, except a French woman who was in the family; she was one that was visibly void of religion, as also her outward behaviour was most unsavoury and unbecoming; notwithstanding of this, I put the best construction upon her I could because she was a stranger. This person seemed to have a very great esteem of me, and many times she would bless the Lord that ever she was in company with me, yet I never noticed any thing she said, knowing her to be a very great liar. But there was one day—being Sabbath morning—she coming down stairs singing to a little dog in her arms; at this I could not wink, but reprove her for so doing, at which she seemed to be displeased, and wist not what way to be avenged on me; but, to make amends for a fault, when we went to church she was wholly employed in mocking the minister, and shooting out her finger in time of sermon, so that a great many in the kirk took notice of her, and were mightily offended, and told me they wondered that such a person should be allowed to dwell in a family where better things were expected. I, considering that the heads of the family were from home, took it upon me to reprove her sharply; on the back of this she turned the most outrageous, mischievous spirit against me, that she contrived the most horrid lies which could be invented; but the Lord of His goodness turned her malice to her own shame, and nowise to my hurt, but rather to the contrary. Yet this trial was somewhat weighty to me considering this woman’s reproachful tongue; but I was helped up, first by the Lord, and then by all those among whom I dwelt, who, though they were strangers to me, yet their sympathy and concern was beyond expression.
I left this family in November, and returned back to the family out of which I came last, at the Inch, where I was received with very much kindness by all in it, and particularly by those who were my enemies before, in which I saw much of the wisdom and wise conduct of the Almighty, who does all things well: and this my soul knows to its experience, there being many things in my charge in this family that now were made more easy in many respects. O the deeps of His wisdom! I saw in this providence beyond what I can express: yet, even at this time, I wanted not a strong body of sin and death weighing me down, and making me cry out many times with bitterness of spirit, “O that I had wings like a dove; then would I fly away, and be at rest, from a tempting devil, a corrupt heart, a wicked world, and the sin that does so easily beset me.”
These inward griefs and vexations bred an unsupportable weight and burden on my spirit which was like to sink me; yet in the midst of these pressures I wanted not something now and then that was sweet and refreshing, which the world knew not of, that kept in the life of my soul. Frequently I got leave to pour out my heart before Him in my secret retirements, that He would deliver my soul from this unknown trial; in which place I got many sweet and comfortable promises that it should be as I desired from the 41st Psalm, which afforded many cordial meditations that warmed my heart when cold and frozen and half-distracted with unbelief. O how sweet was the lifting up of His countenance to me when I was in trouble! I saw so much joy, and felt so much delight in His presence, that it is beyond expression. I can say I never heard the most lively minister preach on what communion with God was as now I felt it; no, the one half was not told me of that intimacy and familiarity that is between Christ and believers when they are admitted to communion and fellowship with Him.
(To be Continued.)
The Wrong Kind of Weapons.—It was the observe of several solid tender Christians that Mr. Gordon and those with him (who latterly deserted the Covenanting cause) had always more of a fighting and contending spirit by swords, guns, and tongues than ever they had of a spirit of prayers and tears, which are the saints’ chief weapons.—Patrick Walker’s Life of Peden.