by James Henley Thornwell
South Carolina College, September 19, 1842
My Dear Aunt Ann,
I need not say that the sore and bitter bereavement which you have recently sustained has filled me with the profoundest sympathy. As I know that you are not a stranger to the throne of grace, nor to the pleasures which flow from communion with God, I cannot but hope, that this solemn visitation will be improved to increase your intimacy with that ‘Friend who sticketh closer than a brother,’ who alone can dry up the tears of sorrow, and give us ‘beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.’ The gospel of God is particularly designed for the broken-hearted and afflicted; and if you mark the footsteps of the flock, you will find that they all lead through much tribulation to the kingdom of heaven. The house of mourning has been the familiar resort of all the saints. The great Redeemer Himself was a ‘man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief,’ and bedewed His path to glory with tears, and sweat, and blood. Think not, therefore, that some strange thing has happened to you; the like sufferings have been accomplished in all your brethren before you, and must be accomplished in all who would reign with Christ for ever.
Jacob wept for his beloved Rachel, and David mourned a rebellious son. How does your calamity compare with that of Aaron, who beheld his sons consumed with fire from the Lord, in the very act of audacious iniquity; and yet was forbidden to uncover his head, to rend his clothes, or give any visible sign of grief? ‘Son of man,’ says Jehovah to Ezekiel, ‘behold, I take away from thee the desire of thine eyes with a stroke; yet neither shalt thou mourn nor weep, neither shall thy tears run down;’ and at even his wife died, and he forebore to cry, and made no mourning for the dead. You are not alone, my sister, in the chamber of affliction. You are where Jesus was, where all His saints have been, where prophets, martyrs, and apostles have stood, and where, in the issue, you will find it a privilege to be. It is God that deals with you; stand still, and acknowledge His hand. He is your Father; and what He doeth, though you know not now, you shall know hereafter. Though clouds and darkness are around Him, His footsteps in the sea, and His paths in the great waters, righteousness and truth are the habitation of His throne, and He will finally speak peace to His children. He who reproved kings for their sakes will assuredly Himself do them no harm. Fear not,
therefore; the flame shall purify, but not hurt. Jesus can more than make up all your earthly losses. He can turn them into mercies; and, therefore, though the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vine, yet, like the prophet, rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the God of your salvation. Only believe; and as He said to the weeping sisters of Lazarus, so He says to you, ‘Thou shalt see the glory of the Lord.’
Perhaps, my sister, your greatest distress arises from uncertainty concerning the salvation of your beloved son. You feel that you could be comforted, if you knew that he was safe; but that you can never know. The destinies of men are in the hands of God; and it is enough for us to know, that He is righteous in all His ways, and holy in all His works. When your mind shall be more enlarged, and your heart expanded in love, you would not choose to alter a single arrangement of the Lord. If you could see the end from the beginning, you would say all is right. Oh! then, trust God in the dark. All opposition to His government is sin, and ‘every wish to alter the appointments of His wisdom is folly.’ Your business, therefore, in this and every other dispensation, is to put your hand upon your mouth, and keep silence before Him. ‘Be still,’ is His language, ‘and know that I am God.’ Others have encountered more trying afflictions than yours. You are only uncertain; but Eli had no ground to hope that his sons were saved, but every ground to believe that they were lost; and yet the good man submitted: ‘It is the Lord; let Him do what seemeth Him good.’ Absalom was slain in the very act of atrocious rebellion; and Nadab and Abihu were consumed by the immediate vengeance of God. What ingredient of bitterness in your calamity can be found answerable to their’s? And yet Eli, David and Aaron were the special friends of God. Take courage, then, and be not like Rachel, weeping for your children, and refusing to be comforted, because they are not. Take courage, and do your duty to the living, and prepare to follow the dead. Trim your lamp, gird up your loins, and stand ready to welcome the midnight cry, Behold, the bridegroom cometh! Let the conviction of your own mortality settle upon your mind; look away from earth; look up to Heaven; deposit your treasures where neither moth nor rust can corrupt, nor thieves break through and steal.
Here we have no continuing city. ‘All ranks and conditions of men are but so many troops of pilgrims, in different garbs, toiling through the same vale of tears, distinguished only by different degrees of wretchedness.’ The patriarchs and prophets all confessed that they were strangers on earth; here they had no home; but they sought a better country; they looked by faith to that building of God, that house not made with hands,
eternal in the heavens, and there they expected to rest. Let us follow their faith and patience, and we shall receive the same glorious reward. ‘But this, I say, brethren, the time is short; it remaineth that both they that have wives, be as though they had none; and they that weep, as though they wept not; and they that rejoice, as though they rejoiced not; and they that buy, as though they possessed not; and they that use this world, as not abusing it; for the fashion of this world passeth away.’ ‘I am,’ says David, ‘a stranger with thee, and a sojourner, as all my fathers were.’ Then, what our hands find to do, let us do it with our might; we shall soon go hence, never to return. A Christian is one who looks for the second coming of his Lord. He waits for it, and desires it, because then his sorrows shall be over, his days of mourning ended, and his soul at rest for ever. Then, my sister, be heavenly-minded; live for God, for immortality, for eternity; and your light afflictions, which are but for a moment, shall work out for you a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.
I would earnestly impress upon your mind, that the bitterest of all calamities is an unsanctified affliction. In His providences, God is teaching us; and it hardens the heart, and darkens the understanding, when His solemn instructions are unheeded. When, therefore, He lifts the rod, and takes away, with a stroke, the desire of our eyes, instead of dwelling upon the circumstances of our bereavement, and tearing open our wounds afresh, by calling to mind the endearing associations connected with the departed, we should at once look to the hand that smites, and inquire what lessons a merciful Father designs to convey. Our great anxiety should be improvement. God is speaking; and our chief business should be, to open our ears, and hear. You will find yourself greatly tempted to think of your son, as you have seen him in infancy, in boyhood, in youth; to call to mind his proofs of affection, his interesting sayings, his promising actions, and all the endearments which silently, secretly, irresistably bind a mother to her child; and every recollection will send a pang to your heart. These reminiscences, which we are so prone to cherish, are the cruel devices of a self-torturing heart. Turn away from them to God, and humbly ask your Father why He has smitten, and bow your head and worship. Receive His instructions with an humble spirit, and He will soon bind up your wounds, and send you away, though ‘sorrowful, yet rejoicing.’
If you have been conscious of any neglect of duty towards the departed, repent; but with that Godly sorrow which flows from a full conviction that God will freely pardon. Repair the mistake by greater
diligence to the living; but let nothing keep you from the pure consolations of the gospel of Jesus. In your present situation, religion proposes to you her sweetest cordials. You can understand the gospel now. Affliction has revealed to you the vanity of man, the deceitfulness of life, the certainty of death, the instability of all sublunary good; and in striking contrast presents the unchanging state, and the glories which await the child of faith. You can now almost advance by strides towards the heavenly kingdom. And if earth is rendered less pleasant, Jesus more charming, and heaven more desirable, by the dark providences which has called you to mourning, you will bless God through all eternity for His chastising rod.
This melancholy event, let it be remembered, speaks not only to you, but to all your household. It says to each and every one of your family, whether bond or free. You, too, must die; prepare to meet your God! When you least expect it, when you are dreaming of many days, and pleasing your fancies with brilliant prospects, your hopes may at once be crushed, your sun go down at noon, and your golden visions wrapped in the funeral pall and shroud. Oh! that the warning may reach the hearts of the living. Oh! that they may be wise, understand this, and consider their latter end.
I have thus, my much valued friend, endeavoured to direct your mind, now softened by grief, and capable of receiving permanent impressions, to such meditations as I thought would be most conducive to your good. It will be my greatest joy, if God should give you grace to adorn the gospel, as you walk in deep waters of sorrow. It is only in affliction that the real greatness of Christianity is seen. It imparts then a moral grandeur to the character, which philosophy cannot compass, and which the world never can understand. It sustains, elevates, ennobles the soul. It teaches it ‘the heavenly science of gaining by losses, and rising by depressions.’ The saints are a wonder in the earth, a wonder to angels, and a wonder to themselves. They are God’s chosen portion, the lot of His inheritance; and this is enough to make them hold up their heads, though all their earthly comforts should be stripped from them. Their main portion — their Father in heaven, their glorious Redeemer — must remain for ever. Let this, my sister, be your consolation. Death has robbed you of nothing you shall want in eternity. Your real inheritance is safe. And now, that the God of all grace may sanctify you wholly, and do exceedingly abundantly for you above all that you are able to ask or think, is the sincere, fervent, and heartfelt prayer of
Your friend and fellow Christian,
J. H. Thornwell.