ON the writer’s visiting an aged member of Brushgrove Congregation (New South Wales), then nearing the close of his earthly pilgrimage, the conversation turned on the preparation needed for eternity. He was a widower, and in his loneliness felt the frailty of his condition and a greater isolation from the world. He brightened up, however, in speaking of spiritual things. When able, he had been a regular attendant on the means of grace, along with his partner and her sisters (Skye ladies), whom, for many years, he was accustomed to drive some miles to the place of worship at Woodford Dale. Now, in comparison, he felt that for him the years had no pleasure in them. He longed the more, therefore, for private fellowship, and he always had the Bible ready when we entered. He himself dwelt much in his exercise on the eighth chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, and he loved to speak of the Christian warfare. On the occasion referred to he was much affected. He evidently felt that his time was short; and whilst recognising the solemnity of death and eternity—reference to which would bring tears to his eyes—yet he had that hope within him by which he was manifestly enabled to stay himself on God as his trust. As we conversed together alone on the nature of that hope, he was led, in his own simple, unaffected way, briefly to recount the manner of his conversion, and the changed life which it had meant to him in subsequent years. This he did to the following effect:—
“I came from Bury St. Edmund’s, in the county of Suffolk, England. My surroundings there would do me no good. The preaching in the Church of England was dead. It was not a sermon, therefore, that first impressed me. God cried to me in His providence. A neighbouring man, returning from market with his cart, suddenly fell dead. I had known the man well, and the question came to my mind—Had it been myself, where would I have gone? Seeing, as the Bible tells us, ‘God turns the wicked into hell, and all the nations that forget God,’ I became greatly concerned. The commandment came to me wherein it is said, ‘Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind.’ But I felt that I did not love God at all. I tried to improve myself in every way I could, by a more careful and serious life. But all was in vain. The law of God condemned me as a transgressor. It stung me to the quick. It continued thus with me for some time. I was then in great darkness and misery, and cried to God for help. At last I was led to come to Jesus, and to look to the fountain opened in His blood for the cleansing away of my sin; and I rejoiced, believing in God. I now thought that I was done with sin. But I soon found my mistake. The corruptions of my heart discovered themselves, and I began to think that I was still lost, and had never really come to Christ. This greatly exercised me, until I was driven to look away from myself to Christ for righteousness as well as pardon. I was made to see that I had no righteousness of my own—that it was not by works of righteousness of mine, but according to His mercy, that He saved me. And thus I was brought to look to Christ’s righteousness as a perfect and spotless righteousness, provided for me in Him. “THAT HAS BEEN MY HOPE SINCE.” He spoke with great feeling. After a pause he referred to Christ as “the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever,” and added, “therefore He is a suitable Saviour for me, who am so changeful and inconstant. In my times of darkness I am enabled to hope in His Word. It is a lamp to my feet.” “Thy word hath quickened me.” (Psalm cxix. 50.)
The only book which he specially mentioned on this occasion as helpful to him was M’Cheyne’s “Memoirs.”
Such was the testimony of Mr. Josiah Carter, spontaneously given when tottering on the border of the grave. His wife, Margaret Matheson, who had sat under the Rev. Roderick M’Leod of Snizort, in early life, had been a true helpmeet for him; and they were both loyal and devoted communicants in the Free Presbyterian Church on the Clarence River. For some time Mr. Carter presided over Lower Southgate Mission Sabbath School in connection with the Congregation, and the simplicity and earnestness of his prayers at the opening and closing exercise were remarked upon at the time. He was latterly elected an elder, but age and failing health obviated against his acceptance of the office. He, however, took time prayerfully to consider his duty, and communicated his decision in a kindly note to his pastor. The above interview took place on 27th September, 1902: Mr. Carter died soon after. After his burial in Grafton Cemetery it was found that, amongst many other bequests, he had left a small property (value about £100) for the benefit of Woodford Dale Church, where he had so often worshipped. A man of comparatively few words, the deceased spoke deliberately, with an earnest gaze on the party addressed. This added to the impressiveness of his dying testimony. We took it as illustrative of that lively oracle—”The righteous hath hope in his death.” (Proverbs xiv. 32.) Clarence River readers will be interested in this remembrance of one who so long went in and out amongst them. May it appeal to surviving relatives and others yet unawakened! W. S.