There is something peculiarly comforting and edifying, we have often felt, in the memoir of an aged Christian. It is cheering to have the testimony of one who has long served God, and their own generation, that the Lord is a good and faithful master; and that, even when it is carried under advancing years, His yoke is easy and His burden light. The saint who has borne the burden and heat of the day must have many lessons to impart to his fellow-labourers, while those whose period of service has extended over only a short time have had no time or opportunity to learn. We read the history of such a life with deep interest; we close it with tranquil seriousness but without the painful regrets which the record of those taken away in the midst of their days so often awakens. It is all the difference between looking at the “flowers cut down in spring” and the ripe sheaf gathered into the garner. When we feel that our brother’s work on earth was done – that it was time for him to enter into the joy of his Lord – we are not tempted to grudge him his rest.
The volume from which we now give some extracts is Life in Jesus, or a Memoir of Mrs Mary Winslow2 (mother of the well-known author Octavius Winslow). Christian readers will find it valuable. It is the history of a long life spent in the service of God, and of communion with Christ. There is not much of striking incident, and less of the ebbs and flows of spiritual experience than we find in many other biographies; but this is probably calculated to make it more generally useful in a practical way. She was the only child of a family of Scottish extraction who settled in Bermuda, and was born there in 1774. She formed an early attachment to Captain Winslow, a young English officer, whose regiment was stationed in the island. Though their marriage was at first against the wishes of her parents, it proved a happy one. Some years afterwards, when with her husband in England, she was awakened to real spiritual anxiety, which terminated in her decided conversion. From this time we might choose as the motto of her lengthened pilgrimage, “The path of the just is as the shining light, which shineth more and more unto the perfect day”.
She was left a widow, under distressing circumstances, at New York, in 1816. But before his death, she had the comfort of believing that her husband had been brought to the same faith in Christ as herself. Bowing with resignation under the chastening of the Lord, she applied herself with Christian energy and devotedness to the fulfilment of her duties towards her large young family. She lived alternately in England and America, crossing the Atlantic seven times; but her closing years were spent at Leamington Spa, under the roof of her son, Octavius, a minister and the writer of her memoir. Here, beloved and lamented by a large circle of Christian friends and relatives, she fell asleep in Jesus on 3 October 1854. A more delightful picture of old age, of the pilgrim waiting in the land of Beulah for his summons to cross the river, can hardly be imagined than is contained in the closing chapters of this volume.
1An unsigned article, as edited, from The Christian Treasury for 1857.
2The volume has been reprinted by Reformation Heritage Books and is available from the Free Presbyterian Bookroom for £19.99.
Her conversion.
“My anxious mind could find no rest, but still I felt a ray of hope dawn upon my benighted soul and continued to hear the precious truth as one hungering and thirsting for divine knowledge. One night, watching alone beside a sick child, I took my Bible and searched the Scriptures. The question, how the sinner could be justified, pressed heavily on my mind. If I could be saved by faith in the righteousness of another, then I felt that there was hope for me; but if there was anything left for me to do towards meriting this salvation, I saw I must be for ever lost.
“I read first one Epistle and then another, when, as I read, the words were brought to my mind, “Ask, and ye shall receive”. I reasoned, “Who is it that says this? It is God. Can God lie? It is impossible. He must do what He has said. He has commanded, “Ask, and ye shall receive”. I will ask. I fell upon my knees and pleaded the promise. My petition was offered in the simple language of an untutored child. I knew nothing of Christian experience, had heard the gospel but a few times, and the only thing that had fastened itself upon my mind was the truth that a poor sinner could be saved. Thus I went to God and pleaded the promise, asking Him how such a wretched sinner as I was could be saved. I did not wrestle so much for my salvation as to know how I could be saved, as a helpless sinner that could do nothing.
“I arose from my knees, and again took my Bible. I read and compared scripture with scripture, but the one part appeared to contradict the other, and my mind was left in darkness and perplexity. Again I carried the promise to the throne of grace and again wrestled with the Lord. I returned to my Bible, but it was yet a sealed book. A third time I ventured near the Lord, still pleading this one gracious promise, “Ask, and ye shall receive”. In an instant, light broke in upon my soul.”
It was as if Jesus stood before her and spoke these words, “I am thy salvation” (Ps 35:3). “I hailed the glad tidings; my heart and soul responded; Jesus was with me . . . my soul was saved; my burden was gone; the grave-clothes in which I had been so long confined fell off; my spirit was free; and I seemed to soar towards heaven in the sweetest, richest enjoyment, my heart filled with a joy unspeakable. I rose from my knees to adore and praise and bless His holy name. O what a night that was – never, never to be forgotten! I had seen Jesus. It was no vision of the bodily senses that I saw; but I had no more doubt that I was a redeemed and pardoned sinner – that I had seen Christ, and held communion with Him who died that I might live – than I had of my own existence.
“It was with difficulty I could refrain from calling up the whole house to hear what the Lord had done for my soul. I thought all would believe and rejoice too, so ignorant was I. As soon as it was morning I informed my husband of what the Lord had done for me. He looked amazed at what I said and feared I should lose my senses. I was grieved that he did not believe and could not understand, and urged him, by every argument I could employ, to seek for the same blessing, which I was sure the Lord would give him.
“It has since been evident to myself that, when the Holy Ghost gave me the promise to plead, he also gave me a measure of faith to credit God for its fulfilment. And in answering the prayer of simple faith, Christ came into my soul with a full and free salvation. “I am thy salvation!” This was good news indeed, fresh from heaven. Christ was mine, heaven was mine. All care and sorrow had vanished, and I was as happy as I could be in the body. I had found what I had long sought. I had been in search of real happiness for years, and in one night I found it all in Jesus. God’s richest treasury had been thrown open to my view; and in Him I found all I wanted for time and eternity. In this happy frame I continued many weeks, imploring all I knew and loved to come to Christ; but none understood me. I began to think that no one knew Jesus Christ but Mr Sheppard3 and myself, and often felt that if I had met a chimney-sweep in the street that knew and loved Christ, I could embrace him as a brother.”
3Thomas Sheppard, Mary Winslow’s minister in London.
Such is the simple, glowing narrative of one upon whose soul the Sun of Righteousness had just risen. In the earnestness of religious feeling breathing through these genuine utterances of the heart, the reader may trace the leading characteristic of her subsequent Christian life. She always meekly acknowledged that at this early period of her new birth there was much holy zeal, as yet unaccompanied with deep Christian experience.
A widowed mother.
“She was now a widow, with a large family of sons dependent upon her for their training. ‘She that is a widow . . . and desolate, trusteth in God.’ Such was her present condition. The surges of grief now yielded to a calm, intelligent survey of her position. She threw herself upon God. The covenant she made with Him when a wife, she now and more solemnly renewed as a widow – that the Lord should be her God. It was at this important crisis of her history that the following touching incident in her experience occurred:
“I had sent one of my sons, a youth of ten years, accompanied by a servant, on a matter of business. The appointed time for his return arrived, but he did not appear. Hour after hour passed away and nightfall drew on, but he did not come. The last steamboat touched the pier, but he was not on board. I walked my room for hours in prayer, and in great agitation of mind. Keenly did I then feel my lonely, helpless widowhood. Again and again I sought the Lord. After passing hours in this state of mental anxiety, I sent a brother in search and, soon after, all made their appearance! He had missed his way. The Lord heard a mother’s prayer, and brought him in safety to me.
“After all had retired for the night, I was left alone with God. My mind and heart had been greatly exercised throughout the day. I felt deeply my helplessness and responsible situation. I thought, “How can I, a helpless woman, care for and train up these children to manhood?” I felt I should sink beneath the overwhelming conviction of my weakness and insufficiency. I paced my room in prayer, tried to take hold of a promise; but all was dark as midnight – the present and the future. It was late before I retired to rest. In vain I endeavoured to compose myself; sleep had forsaken me. Again I lifted up my heart in prayer. I tried to cease from thinking and to close my eyelids, but in vain. All night I continued in prayer, until just before the dawn of day these words were spoken to my ear and heart, as if an audible voice had uttered them: “I will be a Father to thy fatherless children”4 . . .
4The words possibly coming to her mind on the basis of Ps 10:14 or Jer 49:11.
“So powerful was it, I instantly replied aloud, “O Lord, be Thou the Father of my fatherless, O my God! “O the solemnity of that hour! I felt God was with me, and my soul was filled with joy and holy reverence. He had condescended to visit my lone room and fill it with His presence. He had come to comfort his widowed child, and I was comforted. My soul poured out its grateful acknowledgments. I could adore and praise and bless His holy name. A solemn, sacred influence pervaded the place. God was with me, of a truth.
“Fatigued with the anxieties of the day, and exhausted with the mental exercises through which I had passed that night, I composed myself to rest. The Lord withdrew, and my weary eyes were closed in refreshing sleep. Years have passed since then, and the Lord has not for one moment forgotten His promise. But I take the promise to extend beyond this poor dying world. Had the Lord given each of my children a world, and they should lose their souls, what would it profit them? I believe His purpose is to be their Father to all eternity, and that I shall meet all, all my children in heaven. How often have I gone and pleaded the promise before Him and have always found my faith increased! And still my faith holds out, “for He is faithful that promised”.
Her departure.
“It was on Tuesday evening, 3 October 1854, that she departed to her rest. At 6 o’clock in the morning of that day, she had sunk into a state of exhaustion so extreme as scarcely to betray any signs of life. Observing the alarm this produced, she rallied her feeble powers and indicated her perfect consciousness and recognition of all around her. One of her sons then took his position at the head of her bed and, as the Holy Spirit aided his memory, repeated for three hours such passages of Scripture as were appropriate to her solemn circumstances. There was nothing to which she was more responsive than this. The occasional lifting of her wasted hand, the glance of her dim eye toward heaven and the soft whisper of her faint voice, indicated she felt the preciousness of God’s Word and the support it was imparting to her soul, around which the deep waters were now swelling.
“Soon afterwards, while one of her sons was holding her hand, she raised them both, still retaining his, and fixing her eyes upon his face, with a look of the profoundest solemnity and tenderness, pointed upward. The act was too significant not to be understood. ‘Meet me in heaven!’ was her dying charge. And then, when her lips were thought for ever sealed – lips that had testified so long and so faithfully of Jesus – she exclaimed, with a voice of wondrous energy and power, ‘A cloudless death! A cloudless death! A cloudless death!’ So resplendent was the glory now surrounding her – so sacred and awestruck the feelings of all who gazed upon the scene – that the spot where the last conflict was being waged seemed more like the vestibule of heaven than the chamber of death. And now her oft-urged prayer was answered, her utmost wishes were fulfilled; Jesus, that same Jesus who once trod this earth, had come with the pale messenger, lightening the dreary valley with His presence, and manifesting Himself, as once He did to Stephen, as her own risen, living Saviour waiting to welcome her to her long-wished-for home.”