22nd April.—“Betsy, how are you this evening?” “My head is very distressing, just as if I had a locked jaw. I think I shall have them locked before morning, but I do not feel discouraged in the least. I was telling this to my mother through the day, and she was shuddering and shivering. I was just smiling at the idea, neither shuddering nor shivering. Why should I, when the grace of God is made sufficient for me, and His strength made perfect in my weakness? If not, I would certainly be in terror. I got the forty-third chapter of Isaiah read to me to-day, and it was so refreshing to me. I had just such a revival and was made so happy, even though in the prospect of a locked jaw. The Lord was so gracious to me in former times that I cannot doubt Him again. But why do I say so when I distrusted Him so short a while ago, even after all He had before then done for me. It is just wonderful, sir.”
“It is easy,” said I, “to trust Him when He is seen within the vail, smiling with a reconciled countenance; but let the vail only fall, and though He remain unchanged, unbelief will reverse the whole at once. David said, ‘Lord, by thy favour thou hast made my mountain to stand strong; thou didst hide thy face, and I was troubled.’”—Psalm xxx. 7.
“Yes, sir; and oh, how wonderful now that the vail is rent from the top to the bottom, so that He may and can be seen; but blind and stupid unbelief puts up a curtain of its own making, covers the rent, and then persuades that the vail is yet all whole.”
23rd April.—Called, and found Betsy dumb and stone blind. Her mother told me her jaws had locked about two in the morning, just as she anticipated. While looking at her, though I sympathised with her, I felt not the feeling of pity so much as the feeling of envy. Though I saw her with a sightless eye and a tied tongue and sorely pained, yet believing, as I firmly did, that she held converse with a reconciled God, and feeling the sealing of her soul to the day of redemption, I could not but envy her condition, and would gladly exchange with her, though in wonted health and vigour. I left her, saying, “Though I leave you, the Friend that sticketh closer than a brother will remain with you and comfort you.”
She made a sign by moving her hand a little to a side, by which I understood her assenting to what I had said.
24th April.—Called in the forenoon, and found her head had been shaved, bathed in cold water, and a blister applied from ear to ear across the crown; extremely low, unable to hold my hand. The Lord uphold her soul!
9 o’clock p.m.—Found her extremely weak. I could scarcely observe her breathing. I took her by the hand, and asked her if she had strength to press my hand if her mind was happy. I just felt her gently pressing me.
25th April, 12 o’clock.—Still extremely low; pulse discernible only; blister no effect; leeches to be applied at two o’clock.
8 o’clock p.m.—Still breathing; paler than I had seen her at any time before; the pulse as before; the leeches drew no blood. I asked her to move up her eyelids if she were able. She attempted, but failed. I took her by the hand and said, “You will now be saying, ‘My heart and my flesh fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion for ever.'” Upon which she attempted to press my hand, as assenting.
After various observations on her apparent condition, as if approaching death, I said, “Perhaps you will be now saying, ‘Why tarry the wheels of his chariot?'” when she pressed my hand with greater effort than before, as if I had just hit upon the very thought in her mind.
26th April, 1 o’clock.—Her jaws opened at ten o’clock the previous night. Sixty-eight hours she had them locked, and suffering pain excruciating. She was so weak that I did not disturb her with even an observation. Thanks be to the Lord for again opening her lips, and for leaving her longer with her friends.
29th April.—Called, and found that her jaws had locked again the day before. Her head again shaved and a blister applied to the crown, as before.
30th April.—Called, and found her jaws had opened about eight o’clock in the morning, after having been locked fifty-six hours.
“I am happy, Betsy, that you have again had relief.” “Yes, sir, and it is more than I expected.”
“Well, you are brought back to get more refining in the oven of affliction.” “Yes, sir, I am a rough stone, and need much dressing before I am a fit corner stone, ‘polished after the similitude of a palace.'”—Psalm cxliv. 12.
“Well, the great Master Builder is hewing and polishing fast.” “Yes, sir, He is just doing well—doing all things well. I am as in a storm, and every wave and hard gale carrying me nearer to the haven of rest.”
“Oh, what a glorious prospect that haven of rest is, and though in a storm, the assurance that the barque will not swamp.” “Impossible, sir, when Christ is the Ark and when Christ is Master at the helm.”
“How was your mind at this time?” “Oh, quite happy, sir, though my body was racking with pain, fainting, and fading.”
“Well, as we were reading here yesterday, though the outward man is failing, the inward man is renewed day by day.” “Just so, sir.”
“Though I sympathised with you the other day I felt that I could exchange with you—my health with your sickness and happiness.” With a sweet smile she said, “But ah, sir, I would not exchange with you.”
I told her of a woman, of whom I lately had accounts of her awakening, who went to the other end of the house for meal, to bake it, and when in the door returning, was struck with conviction, laid the meal aside, and looked no more after baking it.
“Was that here?” “No, in the country.”
“I thought that, for we hear of no such thing as an awakening here at all. Oh, the deadness—the deadness—that is among us; no mighty work of God among us!”
3rd May.—”How are you to-day, Betsy?” “Sore pained, and weak as usual; but my mouth is opened—able to tell that.”
“Well, when it is so your friends will almost forget that you have any other trouble.” “They may almost think so, comparatively.”
Having mentioned an observation in the sermon—that when the soul prospered in the divine life, affliction, or a delicate diseased body, became nothing. Affliction, when sanctified, is a high blessing; and a bed of affliction, when the soul enjoys God, is a bed of roses—a bed of love. It is usual with God to be more bountiful with His people in a bed of sickness than when they are out of it.
“Well, I have told you the text from which I heard a sermon (Psalm xxxvii. 6). Tell me what have been your texts since I saw you?” “My text to-day is the same as last Sabbath—’My presence shall go with thee, and I will give thee rest.'”—Exodus xxxiii. 14.
She reminded me of something I had promised to tell in reference to some good people in the North and the work of the Lord. Forgetting what it was, I took occasion to tell her of a Communion day in the north of Ireland, when a thousand were brought to follow the Lamb, and adverted to the work of the Lord in our own land and in Bohemia. She regretted how little she read of the history of the Church of God, and His glorious work in the earth.
7th May.—Called, and found her seemingly asleep, and did not disturb her.
8th May.—”How are you to-day, Betsy?” “Very weak, sir, I am to-day. I was asleep yesterday when you were in. I did not know of it till my mother afterwards told me.”
“I was struck when your mother told me you had another attack of the locked jaw.” “Yes, sir, I had, and more painful
this time than usual, and I fancy that was owing to my great weakness. And had it not been grace—grace—I would have sunk under it.”
“When did they lock?” “About eleven o’clock on Sabbath night. A blister of mustard was applied to my head and another under my chin, and the leeches also, but without any effect until seven o’clock yesterday morning—seventy-one hours. I thought the pain of the mustard blister, together with the pain of the locked jaw, would have deprived me of my judgment, so excruciating was the pain. Yet, being a means applied to give relief, I made no sign to have it taken off before the time. When my jaws slackened a little I took a little jelly and water.”
“Well, how have you been supported under this sore trial?” “That promise (Isaiah xliii. 1), ‘Fear not; for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine’: and that which I often had—’When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. For I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour.’ ‘Fear not.’ Had it not been these, or one as strong, I would have sunk under a body of sin and death and my heavy affliction.”
After a pause she said, “Well, sir, what had you been getting yesterday?” “I heard a sermon from what Hagar said, ‘Thou God, seest me,’ and another from ‘Rejoice with trembling.’ That is a remarkable text—’Rejoice with trembling.’ Though there be only three words, how much they contain. And what a mercy that a believing sinner is called upon to rejoice at all, even with trembling. Why should a believing sinner rejoice?” “Oh, sir, rejoice at the hope of the glory of God.”
“And why should he tremble?” “That is very striking, sir. One would think that that is a contrast.”
“Why, for instance, should you yourself tremble amid your rejoicing?” “I must think a little.”
“Should you not tremble at the idea of offending the holiness of God by sin?” “I was just thinking to say that.”
“Should you not tremble at the greatness and glory of God, before whom angels veil their faces and fall down and worship Him?” “Oh, yes, sir.”
“Should you not tremble lest, a promise being left of entering into His rest, you should seem to come short of it?” “Some time ago that idea came forcibly into my mind, and I was troubled; but on the back of it that passage came into my mind, and quieted my fears: ‘Faithful is he that calleth you, who also will do it.’—1 Thess. v. 24.
Wise Appointments.—Settle it in your heart that there is need of all the humbling circumstances you are put in. This is truth.—1 Peter i. 6.—T. BOSTON.