

Transcribed from the 1841 L. & G. Seeley edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org

                                PRINTED BY
                 L. AND G. SEELEY, THAMES DITTON, SURREY.





                                   THE
                            PILOT’S DAUGHTER;


                              AN ACCOUNT OF
                          ELIZABETH CULLINGHAM,
                          WHO WAS BORN AND DIED
                                    IN
                         THE PARISH OF LOWESTOFT.

                                * * * * *

                                  BY THE
                      REV.  FRANCIS CUNNINGHAM, M.A.
                           VICAR OF LOWESTOFT.

                                * * * * *

                                 LONDON:
                   L. AND G. SEELEY, 169 FLEET STREET.
                     J. HATCHARD AND SON, PICCADILLY.
                       J. NESBIT, BERNER’S STREET.

                                * * * * *

                                  1841.




THE PILOT’S DAUGHTER.


The subject of this little memoir was so well known to her neighbours,
and to the many young persons with whom she associated, that I have felt
sure a short account of her would not be unacceptable to them.  They knew
her quiet, virtuous, consistent, pious walk, and they will, I am sure,
bear witness, that I do not over-state the blameless character which she
maintained.  This, as it was an example to others, so it must be a cause
of heartfelt rejoicing to her friends now that she has finished her
course, and entered into her rest.  To others, this little history may
have its use.  It is not the account of a person of unusual powers of
mind, or of attainment; nor of one placed in extraordinary circumstances,
although she was blessed with pious parents, who watchfully instructed
her in the truths of Religion, as well as taught her by their example.
She had only the advantages which many young persons in every village and
town possess, nor did she attain to any situation in life, which
multitudes may not aspire to.  But she gained a deep and well-grounded
feeling of Religion.  She learned the evil nature of her heart.  She
discovered and gained that treasure, which is revealed in the Lord Jesus
Christ.  She laid hold by faith on his merits.  She was taught of the
Holy Spirit; and the graces of the Spirit were in an eminent degree
manifested in her life.  She by the same power acquired the adorning of
the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the
ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of the Lord of
great price.  She followed in the simple training of the ministry of the
Church: neither seeking to wander from its pastures, nor exercising any
want of charity towards those who differed from her, one of whom,
attached to another denomination of Christians, her only surviving
sister, and nearest friend, was her constant companion; with her she
lived in perfect unity of Spirit.  Her circumstances then had nothing in
them out of the ordinary course of human life.  She had temptations
peculiar to her own character and disposition, and she met with the usual
trials, which belong to her situation in life.  She had her time of
health, and of sickness.  She was a daughter and a sister.  She was
engaged in a variety of pursuits both to gain her livelihood, and to do
good to others; but in every state,—without exhibiting any quality to
which her friends and neighbours might not aspire,—she may be truly said
to have walked after her measure in her Master’s footsteps, and to have
adorned her Christian profession.

The father of this young woman was James Cullingham.  He had for many
years been a Pilot.  He was a man of somewhat original character.
Throughout his life he had followed, without variation, the usual line of
his calling, and faithfully discharged the duties of his occupation.  The
business of a Pilot on this part of the coast, is to take ships coming
from the North to London.  Then to return home again, to wait perhaps a
few days till the opportunity occurs of another voyage.  This kind of
life is one of a good deal of temptation; but it did not prove more than
this to him, for he passed through it without reproach, although somewhat
unsuccessfully as to his own profit.  In the depth of the winter, when
the Northern Ports were frozen, his usual duties were suspended.  It was
in these intervals we had occasion to observe his valuable character.
His season of rest was employed chiefly at home, reading various books;
in his latter years, books of devotion; and he was rarely absent from the
House of God.  In the latter part of his life, he was in the habit, when
at home, of having stated prayer three times a day; and he read the
Scriptures in the order of the Calendar of the Prayer Book; at this
period he also gave up all watching for the coming in sight of ships on
the Sabbath day; always, however, being ready to go out to them, as his
profession called him to do, if there was any actual necessity.  On the
week days at the prayers, as well as on the Sunday, he constantly
attended the services of the Church.  I shall long remember, during the
last years of his life, (the only period when I knew him,) his
respectable appearance, his attentive demeanour and the animation with
which he made the responses out of a large prayer book, which was his
constant companion, altogether manifesting the fulness of heart, with
which he entered into the service of God.  He was a fine model of a man,
whose religion partook of the character of a former age.  He was deeply
serious, entirely practical, strict in his attachment to the Church; but
his religious feeling, although it led him sometimes to a fearless
reproach of sin in others, did not so much draw him to aim at the
conversion of his neighbours.  He owed very much of the expansion of his
religious mind to a social Prayer Meeting, at which he was a constant
attendant.  One of his family remembers the first deviation from that
remarkable firmness which belonged to his natural character, on which
occasion he came home from one of these Meetings, deeply affected, and
witnessed by his tears, the impression he had received.  He had one
remarkable deliverance from Shipwreck.  He had been called to take charge
of a ship in distress which in the course of ten minutes must have
perished, had it not pleased God to direct an instantaneous change of the
wind.  In this danger he felt himself calm and prepared for his end.  He
was, in after years, constantly sensible of this deliverance, and on two
sheets of paper, nailed up in his bed room, he wrote as a memorial in his
own large hand: “The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I
fear; the Lord is the strength of my life of whom shall I be afraid?”
And “The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart hath trusted in him,
and I am helped: therefore my heart danceth for joy, and in my song will
I praise him.”  Psalm xxviii. 8.  He was a man of undaunted courage,
considering, that in his station of life, it was his duty to run any
risks by which he might be faithful to his occupation, and acquit himself
of the responsibility entrusted to him.

Elizabeth’s Mother was a person of no common character.  She had been
left an orphan at sixteen years of age.  She had spent many years in
service, and at the conclusion of this time, had married.  Her character
was one of great decision, and warmth of feeling.  She was a person of
singular benevolence, and filled a valuable post amongst her afflicted
neighbours, and in our District Society.  Her great sympathy with others,
and her uncommon power of body and of mind, had led her to give up days
and nights to nursing her neighbours.  This labour eventually undermined,
and permanently injured her vigorous constitution.  Those only, who saw
her in her afflictions, can be aware of the deep feeling which dwelt in
her heart.  She was in the habit of reading a variety of common books
which fell in her way.  I remember some very curious questions, which she
once put to me on the family of an individual, which had figured in the
History of England.  Her piety was ardent.  It was her habit to retire
every afternoon to her chamber for prayer.  She had not, perhaps, as much
of adherence to the forms of the Church as her husband, although she was
zealously attached to it, and a constant frequenter of its services.  She
was very peculiarly observant of statements of doctrine, made in the
Public Ministry, giving the most marked preference to those which freely
offered the grace of God to all.  She had been led to very deep
seriousness of religious feeling by the ardent piety and interesting
death of her second daughter, who exemplified, during eleven weeks of
painful sickness, an attainment in religion, which afforded the fullest
assurance of her joyful entry into the everlasting kingdom of her Lord
and Saviour.  That daughter had taken a somewhat higher course of mental
pursuit, than any of her family.  She was accustomed to express her
devout feeling in verse, and a copy book has been put into my hands,
containing a variety of little poems, which at least shew her sweetness
of mind, and her knowledge of religion.  I cannot forbear quoting one of
them, not particularly for its excellence, but because it serves to
prove, in reply to the charge often made of ingratitude against the poor,
how frequently a deep feeling of thankfulness may exist, which
nevertheless gains no public expression.  These lines are on the death of
a venerable Clergyman, whom I myself knew to have been frequently
foremost in acts of benevolence, and often, if necessity required it,
willing to stand almost alone in deeds of enlarged charity.

                   ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. J. G. SPURGEON,
                              RECTOR OF OULTON.

    Hark! tis the loud knell which tolling so dreary,
    Announces to all, a frail mortal’s decease;
    That relieved from pain, at rest is the weary,
    A Christian has entered the mansions of peace.

    But it tells us a _friend of the poor_ is departed,
    A benevolent friend has resign’d his last breath,
    And the eye where the soft tear of pity has started,
    Is now closed, and sleeps in the silence of death.

    Yet while in deep sorrow, his loss we’re deploring,
    His spirit is mounting to Heaven above;
    To those regions of light he is rapidly soaring,
    To reap the reward of his labours of love.

    Peace to thine ashes! thy warfare is ended,
    Thou hast fought the good fight, and hast entered thy rest;
    Still a tear dims their eye, thou so kindly befriended,
    And thy memory is sweet to the poor and distress’d.

On her death bed, Susan Cullingham spoke of ‘passing the dark valley,
but,’ she added, ‘It is _light_,’ and she bade her friends go to the
grave, not to _weep_, but to look for her in heaven.

I think that I have rarely known in their rank of life, a finer specimen,
of what I might wish the whole population of my parish to be, than the
Father and Mother of Elizabeth Cullingham.  They lived most happily
together, and after death were not long separated.  Their death I shall
have occasion presently to record.

Elizabeth’s early life was such as might be expected in her station.  She
had exceedingly good health and spirits at this period.  She was fully on
par with all other girls in childish pursuits.  Her disposition was,
however, always careful.  She was considerate in all things, not wasteful
of any thing, a stayer at home, prudent and disposed to seriousness.  At
the age of sixteen, she went to fill a subordinate situation in a family
in London, in which a female relative was the housekeeper.  In this
situation she was exposed to no more temptation than belongs to a servant
in general.  She was permitted, indeed, to partake of the usual
amusements which are allowed to servants in London, but she was protected
from the evils which might have resulted from those amusements, by the
watchful attention of the relation under whose care she was placed, and
by the preventing grace of God.

During the three years of her residence in London nothing occurred to
mark her course.  She fulfilled her duties, and gained the character of a
good servant.  She returned to Lowestoft about the month of May, 1831, in
health and spirits.  Her return was the wish of her careful mother, who
feared to leave her daughter at a distance, without the protection of the
kind relative, who had now retired from service.  On her return,
Elizabeth resided in her own family, and followed the business she had
been taught; but her residence at home was under somewhat new
circumstances.  At this period certain means of instruction were offered
to the young people of the parish, which, under Divine help, were
peculiarly calculated to meet her opening mind.  These means were 1st, a
Bible Class, and 2nd, a meeting of women, belonging to the Church, for
the more especial object of Social Prayer.  Both of these she frequently
acknowledged to have been of great advantage to her.

In the Bible Class, the Scriptures were read, and generally explained,
whilst the object constantly kept in view was to fix the word on the
conscience of the young people.  Each one of these were invited to repeat
some portion of Scripture or a hymn, selected by themselves.  The meeting
of women was under the immediate. direction of the minister, but presided
over by Mrs. Cunningham: in it the word of God was read, and a review
taken of the sermons of the preceding Sunday.  Two or three of the
members were then at liberty to engage in prayer.  In the latter years of
her life, Elizabeth occasionally offered up prayer.  These meetings were
generally seasons of edification to her, and very much tended to
establish her religious mind: they had also the effect of uniting her
with those of our Church who were likeminded.  Their general result I
have found to be greatly beneficial to the Church itself.  It was
observed by her relations that from the time of Elizabeth’s first
attendance on these occasions, she devoted herself more entirely to the
service of God.  Her conduct was altered: she became more serious, and
she had more love for the Scriptures, and as the necessary consequence,
other books were laid aside: her natural fretfulness was also brought
under, and her character assumed that sweetness and quietness which it
retained till the end.  For two or three years she went on in this
course.  She was laborious in gaining her livelihood, and as her health
was never strong, after her return home she occupied herself at
needle-work, at which, however, through the indulgence of her parent, she
was not required to labour more than suited her health.

She was habitually, and by principle, industrious, feeling that it was
equally a Christian duty to be diligent in business, as to be fervent in
spirit, serving the Lord.  I do not remember any circumstances relating
to her history at this period which were of importance.  For two or three
years she pursued the even tenor of her way.  She was dutiful to her
parents, kind to all around her, serviceable to the Church, and in every
way an ornament to her Christian profession.  The work of conversion was
obviously going on in her soul.  The fulfilment of every duty, private
and public, gave full proof of it.

It was about the year 1833 that she had the offer made of a situation in
a gentleman’s family, of which the religious habits were particularly
suited to her.  Into this family she entered, and was absent for about
three years in a distant part of the kingdom.  During this time she had a
severe attack of illness, which resulted in her return home.  But as this
new state of servitude was somewhat of a trial to her, and it had its
peculiar burden in her weak state of health, and with her naturally
anxious habit of mind, so it was calculated to exhibit the strength of
principle which she had attained.  I am glad to be able to bring forward
a witness of her conduct as a servant during this period.  When she was
dead I wrote to her late master, to ask about her, and I subjoin a part
of his reply in his own words.

                                                    _Brighton_, _July_ 28.

    “MY DEAR FRIEND,

    “Though we cannot but lament the removal of such manifestly bright
    saints as E. C. from this our lower earth, yet every such removal is
    like a door opened in heaven; and one seems to hear her peaceful
    spirit saying to us, “Be followers of me, and of them who have
    inherited the promises.”  Blessed are such dead who die in the Lord.
    As long as E. C. was in my service, I always considered her as one of
    the most perfect characters I had ever seen.  She was with us, I
    should think, about three years.

    “She always seemed to me a model of Christian deportment as a
    servant, for I never saw one ruffle or ripple in the even stream of
    her temper; I never saw her upset or put out by any hasty order or
    word which I might have spoken.  She was evidently always at rest in
    Jesus—enjoying very unusually peace and joy in believing—and this was
    no doubt granted to a more simple and consistent _obedience_ than is
    generally seen in professors of our days.  The characteristic graces
    of her state appeared to me humility and quiet contentment in her
    situation of life.  She had no high sounding profession, but all was
    a meek, yet very firm, testimony to that blessed Master’s grace who
    had “wrought all her works in her.”

    “When _servants_ are really thus Christian, they do especially
    _adorn_ the Gospel of God their Saviour.  “Exhort servants to be
    obedient unto their own masters, and to please them well in all
    things, not answering again, not purloining, but shewing all good
    fidelity, that they may adorn the doctrines of God our Saviour in all
    things.”  Titus ii. 9.

    “She did this most eminently.  Of course I can say little more: the
    incidents in a servant’s life are generally so few.  Hers was a
    blessed constancy, an even flow of calm and established piety.”

                              * * * * * * * * *

The testimony of this letter to the character of Elizabeth, as a servant,
is remarkable.  ‘Not one ruffle or ripple in the even stream of her
temper,’ of this naturally anxious, and even fretful, girl.  ‘Never upset
or put out by any hasty order or word:’ ‘_consistent obedience_:’
‘humility and quiet contentment in her situation in life,’ marking all
her course.  How truly may we feel with her master that all this was a
strong testimony to the grace of that blessed Saviour, who had “wrought
all her works in her.”  Yet what encouragement does this case afford to
many others who are engaged in domestic service.  She fulfilled her duty
as unto the Lord, and of her Master in heaven she will doubtless receive
her reward.

Elizabeth now having returned home, took her place in the parish.  She
sought to be serviceable to others as well as to gain her livelihood: she
was a constant helper to the ministry, and a great comfort to her
parents, with whom she dwelt.  Her religious mind appeared to be
continually progressing.  At the close of the year 1836, she began a
private journal, which has been lent to me.  It contains chiefly notes of
sermons which she heard, and of the impression which they produced on her
mind.  How happy it is when the soul is brought so to hunger and thirst
after righteousness, that it feeds upon all the food which is presented
to it; when the means of grace are used not without profit, when sermons
are listened to, and applied to the heart, when the word of God is read,
and marked, and inwardly digested, so that the hope of everlasting life
is embraced, and held fast.  It was so with Elizabeth C.

No word seemed to be received without attention and application.  I wish
that her example may be followed in this matter, and with the same
blessing.  I will now make some extracts from her journal; they will
serve to shew the very inside of her mind.  It begins Dec. 18, 1836.
‘Mr. C. preached from Isaiah xl. 3, 5.  I felt my mind much impressed
with the sermon.  O that the Lord may remove every mountain that impedes
my way to Him.’  Saturday being the last day of the year she writes—‘When
I look back on the past year, how many short comings and backslidings,
how much coldness and lukewarmness have I to mourn over: O blessed Lord,
enable me to dedicate myself afresh to thy service, in entering upon
another year, and do thou pardon all that is passed.’  January 1.  ‘The
first text which caught my eye this morning was Isaiah i. 25.  “O blessed
Lord, purge away all my sins, and make me to walk humbly before thee.”
Mr. C. preached from Rom. xii. 1, 2.  How was my mind impressed when he
pointed out the necessity of giving the whole heart to God.  I was led to
pray earnestly that the Lord would enable me to do so for Jesus sake.
January 2.  Attended a Prayer Meeting at the Vicarage, to implore the
outpouring of the Spirit.  O Lord, hear the prayers which have this day
been offered up.  January 15.  Mr. C. preached from 1 Cor. ii. 9.  The
sermon was truly interesting and affecting, as he spoke to us of the
death of two individuals, Mrs. R., and Mrs. C., well known to us, who
died under very affecting circumstances.  Mr. C. pointed out what it was
to love the Lord, and what was prepared for them that love him.  We have
no doubt but our dear friends are now enjoying those things which are
prepared for the righteous.  O blessed Lord, prepare me for every change
and condition of life; but above all prepare me for death, that I may be
ready to meet thee with joy.’

I may be permitted to digress from my subject for a few moments, to
relate the history of the two individuals alluded to.  The elder of the
two died full of years, many of which had been spent in the Service of
God.  She was 91 years of age, and the Parent, in the fourth generation,
of a large number of our Congregation.  Although surrounded by many
witnesses at her death, she departed so quietly, that none could know
when she took her flight.  Of her it might be truly said, she had “fallen
asleep in Christ.”  The other individual was Mary Rackham.  She was the
Mother of a large family; she acted a prominent part in her husband’s
much frequented Butcher’s shop, and this brought her into the observation
of the whole Parish.  She was well known by her constant attention to
business, being inferior to none in the active pursuit of her daily
duties.  She was confessedly the woman in the parish, who appeared to me
to have the largest share of varied occupation.  She was however in the
midst of all her duties, distinguished for her obliging manners to all
about her.  In her family, the utmost good order and consistency were
observed.

She had lost one child, whom she trusted she had trained for God, and now
her longing anxiety was, that all the rest of her family should follow in
the same course.  How entirely her heart was set upon this I could well
judge, who was often led into conversation with her on that subject.  But
her labours and conflicts, and her victory in her own soul were still
more conspicuous.  She was naturally of an eager and sanguine
temperament, but that this had an entirely new and spiritual direction
was manifest to all.  Her disposition was not to entertain high notions
of herself; yet was she confident in her Saviour, and she never testified
any doubt as to her portion in Him.  Her zeal for the Service of God was
very great, and her attendance at his house, considering her
circumstances, was remarkable.  On Thursday Evening, as on Sunday, she
was always to be found in her place.  She was an attendant at the latest
Sacrament, and twice at the services on the last Sunday of her life.  But
her seasons of private devotion were as regularly maintained.  She was
watchful to secure her morning and evening retirement;—and in order to
keep up the Spirit of devotion, which she feared might flag through the
hurry of business; she constantly retired in the middle of the day, when
her business had a pause, for the purposes of reading and devotional
exercises.  She was a member, and a constant attendant, when she was
able, on the Society for Social prayer.  She died after her confinement;
and we had the opportunity of witnessing only an awful, but a calm and
cheerful delirium which filled up her latest hours.  But a more beautiful
and instructive example of holy devotedness to every duty, performed in
the faith of Christ, we could scarcely have had the opportunity of
witnessing, than that which she exhibited in her daily walk and
conversation.  She died at the age of 35 years, leaving five children
behind her.

The Journal of E. C. goes on.  ‘Thursday Evening, March 5.  Mr. Hogarth
preached from 2 Cor. v.  He described the body as a tent, which must soon
be dissolved, and the miseries of the wicked, who have no hope beyond
this life.  None said Mr. H., but the followers of Christ can take up the
language of the text.  Enable me, O Lord, thine unworthy servant,
experimentally to feel that I, even I, have a building of God, an house
not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.  March 8.  Mr. C. spoke of a
dear Christian friend, S. J. who was called to put off her earthly
tabernacle last Sabbath.  We feel assured she had a building of God, an
house prepared for her disembodied Spirit—to her, said Mr. C. may the
text be applied.  “Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into
the Joy of thy Lord.”  Give me grace, O Lord, to improve the talent
committed to me, that when thou callest me to give up my account, I may
be ready as thy servant was.’  Susan Jones, the person here alluded to,
was an individual of great interest.  She illustrated a valuable little
tract, entitled the “_Single talent well employed_.”  She was one of
three sisters, who lived together in Lowestoft.  She had resided with a
family in Scotland, whose testimony to her worth, as well as that of the
heads of the family in which she died, I shall venture to insert.  She
was one of the brightest ornaments of our little Christian Society, and
much beloved by all who knew her.  I will copy the account of her
inscribed in the memoranda of a friend.

    ‘This morning’s post brought me the tidings of dear Susan Jones’
    death, or rather of her being on the point of death, and a request
    that I would inform her sisters of it.  Another valued member of our
    Society, a true sister in the Lord—one much beloved by us and by many
    here is now departed!  The letter was from Mr. S. a Clergyman, with
    whom she had been staying at Woodbridge about three months, in order
    to nurse Mrs. S. in her confinement.’

The following is an extract of his letter.

    ‘Poor dear Susan was apparently well this morning, and engaged as
    usual, till about 11 o’clock; when upon her stooping down, she felt
    an acute pain; but as she was subject to this, we were not
    alarmed.—Finding, however, that the pain continued, we sent for our
    medical attendant.  The suffering for a short time became acute, and
    the symptoms so alarming, that it was soon evident there was no hope
    of her life.  It is considered that a vessel near the heart had given
    way, and that she is sinking from internal bleeding.  She is indeed
    as one fallen asleep.  Her mind is calm, and her heart is
    _fixed_;—her gratitude to God, her patience, love, _humility_,
    combined with simple trust, are all so conspicuous, that I cannot
    perceive which is the greatest.  She appears not to have a thought in
    the world, and has not said one word regarding it.  Her thoughts are
    all towards God, and the voice of praise and prayer to him, for
    spiritual blessings are her only theme.  “Thy will be done,” seems
    the first and uppermost feeling of her heart.  You may feel assured
    when you receive this, that her Spirit is in Heaven, with her beloved
    Saviour.  All her words are now either to, or of her God and Saviour,
    and she appears to have closed her senses to this trying scene.  Her
    bodily sufferings now are small.  I feel as though in parting from
    her, I was losing one of my best friends, and I only pray that the
    Almighty, in his mercy, may so help me, that I may see dear Susan in
    another and better world.  With every good wish and prayer,’

                                                               Believe me,
                                                         Yours faithfully,
                                                                 J. P. S.’

February 27th.  ‘Received this morning the account of dear Susan Jones’s
death.  The following is an extract from Mr. S’s. second letter.’

    ‘Poor dear Susan was called away a few hours sooner than we expected.
    She breathed her last a quarter before one o’clock this morning, when
    she exchanged a Sabbath day on earth, for an eternal Sabbath in
    heaven.  I feel as strong a confidence that she is now in glory, as I
    can feel of any person I ever knew.  The verse for the day in the
    Christian Almanack, 26th February, is, “There remaineth, therefore, a
    rest for the people of God,” as it were greeting me on my coming down
    stairs this morning, with a most welcome and appropriate assurance,
    and as it were in confirmation of my feelings.  All I can say of her
    in her life, and in her death, would come short of the reality, and I
    can only hope and pray that I may be kept from abusing the privilege
    I have had in her friendship; and that her image and example may, by
    God’s blessing, be the means of assisting my weakness, and helping me
    on to an _entrance_ into glory for ever and ever with her!’

May we seek to follow her humble and Christian course, blameless and
harmless as she was, loved by all, and loving all.  She was not quick to
discover, or speak of the faults of others, being too humbly alive to her
own.  I never remember to have left her after the fullest communications
with her, distressed or perplexed by histories of others, and their
faults and failings; over these she drew the curtain, and fixed her eye
_only upon her own_.  She introduced the subject of other people only to
speak kindly and affectionately of them: she appeared “without
partiality,” nor had she that selfishness which soon takes affront: I
never knew her vexed with any one for supposed unkindness or neglect: she
seemed always to think she received more than she deserved.  O may we all
have grace to follow her in this, and in many other of her Christian
virtues.

When thus suddenly seized, and with nothing but death before her, her
soul was found perfectly _staid_.  No distressing fears or conflicts
overwhelmed her; but she met the summons with perfect fortitude and
resignation.  When Mr. S. said to her, ‘Dear Susan, do you not feel
afraid?’  ‘O no, sir, I have no fear; I am leaning on the arm of Jesus,
He is my support—He is holding me behind and before.  God has laid his
hand upon me: His will be done; He will keep me, He will support me.’
The sting of death seemed entirely withdrawn, and the glorious hope of
being for ever with the Lord, swallowed up all pain in quitting this
valley of tears.  O the blessedness of living thus in preparation for
death!  May the instructive lesson sink deeply into all our hearts,
leading us to a watchful circumspect devotion to our God and Saviour;
that, when he shall please to call us, we may say with her, ‘_ready_,
_Lord_, _ready_.’

As it was my painful office to inform her dear sisters of the affecting
event of Susan’s seizure and probable departure at that moment, I went in
after the service on Sunday morning.  At the moment of my entry, Hannah
was reading a paper she held in her hand.  I asked them if they had heard
any thing of Susan.  ‘Not very lately; but we have just been reading a
paper of her’s we found in her Bible.’  These were the words:—‘O my dear
sisters, we have now began another year, O may we live it _fit to die_,
should we be called away before it is past.  This day I have been to hear
Mr. Salmon, and we had a most excellent sermon from Zechariah i. 5.
“Your fathers, where are they?” God bless you both.—Susan Jones.’

This seemed a merciful preparation for breaking to them the sorrowful
tidings, which I did, as carefully as possible, endeavouring to arm them
with Christian feeling of dependance upon God, and with sense of His
presence and love in this event.  They were not at first so overwhelmed
as I expected: they were deeply attached to each other, and nothing could
exceed the careful and affectionate manner in which Susan had nursed
Elizabeth in a long and painful illness.  Her watchful affection had
bound them still more closely together.

Elizabeth Jones has since died, and has left ample testimony to her faith
in the Lord Jesus Christ, and her meetness to appear in the presence of
God, through the merit of her Saviour.  We had most interesting and
satisfactory testimonies of Susan Jones’s character from others.  Lady H.
thus writes of her in a letter to Elizabeth.

    ‘You cannot doubt how great were my feelings of sorrow, when I heard
    of the decease of my faithful friend, your dear sister Susan; indeed
    I hardly think any such event, out of my own family, could have
    grieved us all so deeply.  Almost the last words I ever heard from
    her were, ‘if I am gone when you return to England, never sorrow for
    your poor old servant.’  But I do sorrow for her very deeply, and
    shall always think that I have lost a faithful friend, one who did me
    and my children good, and not evil, during all those days of her life
    which she spent with me, and I am very sure she has continued to do
    us good by the hearty prayers she addressed for us, to Him whose eyes
    are in every place.  Her unwearied kindness to my children, I never
    did, and never could, repay; I allude chiefly to the good principles
    she taught them, of love to God, love to their parents, to one
    another, and to all their brethren of mankind.  O happy mother shall
    I be, if my offspring depart not from the ways which their old nurse
    taught them.

    ‘When I was at the Lord’s table last Sunday, I thought of Susan, who
    had so often been there with her master and me.  I was prepared to
    remember her when we are directed to bless the Lord ‘for all his
    servants departed this life in His faith and fear,’ whose good
    example, whatever their station in this world may have been, we pray
    for grace to follow.’

But I will return to some portions of E. C’s. journal.  ‘March 12.
Attended the Prayer Meeting as usual in the morning.’  This meeting was
held on the Sabbath morning at 9 o’clock, and is composed of a few
persons who meet together to ask a blessing on the coming means of grace.

‘I felt my mind,’ she says, ‘much drawn out in prayer.  The meeting was
lively, and I trust the Lord was with us, though some of the weakest of
his creatures.  In the morning, Mr. C. preached from Hebrews ix. 13, 14,
the first part considering what it was to purge the conscience from dead
works.  He spoke not only of the dead works of the unconverted, but also
of the dead works of the Christian.  How often is he found hard-hearted,
and cold, and lukewarm, and too often bringing forth fruit to the
dishonour of God.  What then but the blood of Christ can cleanse him from
his dead works.  Lord, give me grace and faith to apply to that blood
continually.’  So did she speak of her own _deficiencies_.  Next she
speaks of her own _labours_ on the same day.  ‘Attended the school in the
afternoon.  O Lord, bless and own my poor labours.  Enable me to teach
for Thee, that thy name may be glorified.’  Passing over a portion of her
journal, she comes to ‘April 16.  Mr. Hoare preached from Hebrews ix.
14–16.  He beautifully described how Christ was the High Priest of his
people; how He atoned for their sins by shedding his own blood; and how
he entered into the Holiest of Holies, where he ever liveth to make
intercession for them.  He also spoke of the tenderness of Christ;
whereby he sympathized, and of his power, whereby He was able to save to
the uttermost all that come to God by Him.  He most earnestly entreated
the trembling believer to come boldly to One who was both able and
willing to save him.’  Her own reflections on this sermon may be gathered
from the expressions she has applied to it.

‘Mr. Swanison from Jer. xxxi. 18–20.  In the conduct of Ephraim teaching
us the nature of true repentance.  The prayer of Ephraim shews the change
in his mind.  He entreats God to turn him, feeling that he cannot turn
himself.  He feels and owns he has been a rebel, but he relies on the
Lord to turn him and to pardon all his sins.  Here we see the mercy and
the love of God displayed.  He does not receive the repentant sinner as a
servant, but he calls him his dear son.  Oh what encouragement to the
poor returning sinner, to know that God, whom he feels that he has
offended, earnestly remembers him still.’

I am glad to make extracts from the sermons of many of my dear fellow
helpers in the gospel, who have been working with me in this field of
labour, and who have each,—one planting, and another watering, but God
giving the increase;—been so honoured as to give suitable culture to a
plant of the Lord, whom they will one day meet in glory, in the heavenly
paradise.  I also make these extracts, that we may be enabled to trace
the means by which the mind of our departed friend, was furnished with
food convenient for its growth in grace and holiness.

‘May 21.  Attended the morning Prayer Meeting.  Felt rather dead in
prayer.  May the Lord quicken my affections and warm my cold heart.’
‘Mr. C. from Amos viii. 8, 9.  Sermon on the Jews.  He spoke much on the
fulfilment of prophecy; the Lord, in various places, threatening to
disperse and destroy this people, but not make a full end, &c. &c.  O
Blessed Lord, give me to live, that I neglect not this message, for if
thou spared not the natural branches, neither wilt thou spare me if I
neglect thy word.  Lord, give me thy Spirit, and guide me in all my ways,
for thy dear Son’s sake.’

Passing over other subjects, we may take the effect produced on her mind,
by one of the social meetings before alluded to.

‘Monday Evening, Sept. 1.  Attended Mrs. C.’s meeting.  Mrs. C. spoke
much of the Omnipresence of God.  I felt the subject very much, and I was
enabled to pour out my soul in prayer.  Surely the Lord’s presence was
with us at that time.  O blessed Lord, keep me humble; empty me entirely
of self, that my unworthy services may be acceptable in thy sight.’  It
is plain by this passage, that she had felt the approach of temptation,
but she met it in the spirit of watchfulness and prayer.

On another occasion, she says, ‘I attended the meeting.  I trust the Lord
was with our little party, and that he will hear and answer prayer.  I
feel my own weakness, and utter unworthiness in approaching thee, O Lord,
but look thou in mercy upon me; pardon my sins, forgive my iniquities,
and let not the imperfections of my prayers render them odious in thy
sight.  Thou Lord, knowest my weakness; O strengthen me that I may be
enabled to confess thee with more boldness; but O keep me humble.’

‘Oct. 15.  This Morning, the Rev. D. Hogarth preached from Malachi ii. 2,
3.  O Blessed Jesus, do thou purify and cleanse my soul from the dross of
sin, which I feel still hinders me from enjoying the light of thy
countenance.  O remove the veil from mine eyes, and sin from my heart,
that I may see and understand what thy will is; do thou enlighten and
guide me in thy way.’

An event now occurred in the family of Elizabeth Cullingham, of the
deepest interest and importance.  This was the death of her Father.  On
Monday, Jan. 8, 1838, about two o’clock in the afternoon, a foreign ship
came in sight, and hoisted a flag for a Pilot.  She was about ten miles
from the shore, but although the weather was threatening, and the evening
approaching, it seemed practicable to reach the ship; and as it was
suspected, that others might be in the offing, which would likewise
require assistance, two Pilots put off, with thirteen men in one yawl,
and one Pilot with twenty-one in another.  The dangers which might have
terrified ordinary men, did not prevent these brave seamen from
encountering the perils which threatened them in the way of duty.

It was a maxim of James Cullingham, that he ought, in his duty as a
Pilot, to fear no danger, and that whenever others would take him, he
should go.  The yawls carried their mainsails at first, and expected to
reach their object.  But the vessel, instead of keeping its first course
towards the boats, when they were five or six miles from the shore, stood
out to sea.  The yawls therefore, in their effort to reach the ship, were
carried far from land,—and daylight drew to a close before the men were
aware of their situation.

The wind meantime arose, and the snow drifted heavily.  The greatest
anxiety was soon felt by all on shore.  The scene which presents itself
on these occasions, may be conceived, but not described.  Fathers,
Mothers, Wives, Sisters, Brothers, and Children, are seen intently
watching every change in the sky and waves, eagerly gazing upon the
distance to catch a glimpse of the absent objects of their love: grasping
every phantom of hope which may present itself; but at length—convinced
by some undoubted sign, that they must hope no more.—Many are the vows
which are then made; many are the prayers which are then offered.  The
watching and suspense, however, were in this case, soon at an end.  At
seven o’clock one of the yawls through great danger, reached the shore,
and this left no doubt as to the loss of the other, in which was James
Cullingham, and another Pilot.  It is supposed this yawl, the ‘Peace,’ in
endeavouring to get into the gat-way, had missed the light, it being
thick with snow, that she got into broken water, and had gone down.  But
none were left to tell the tale of woe.  The boat itself, sometime
afterwards, was washed on shore, a complete wreck.  Very few of the
bodies were recovered: but amongst the number, that of James Cullingham
was found, very remarkably, eight months afterwards.  Twelve widows and
thirty two children, were in consequence of this disaster, left
destitute.  This was, indeed, a night of agony, to numbers on shore.
Still the possibility of escape presented itself to their minds, but it
was hoping against hope.  Yet was every one afraid of acknowledging to
the chief mourners, what in their own minds was their fixed opinion, that
no chance remained.  None would, at all events, be the first to declare
the awful truth to those broken hearted sufferers.

But there must have been a scene even more affecting than the one now
recorded.  In the boat were fifteen men, who were in the very jaws of
destruction.  One other heave of the impetuous sea, and their state was
fixed, fixed for ever.  Some of them, perhaps, had been drunkards, or
Sabbath breakers, or neglecters of Religion; but now they were called at
once to give account of what they had done, and what they had left
undone, and nothing could be left, to which they might look forward, but
the punishment which awaits the sinner.  It is impossible to conceive a
scene more really appalling, although outwardly its awfulness might be
concealed by the anxiety and efforts which it caused.  But to think of
the never-dying soul, hitherto uncared for, unprepared with all its sins
upon it, hurried in one moment into judgment, and to the wages of its
transgressions, is awful indeed!  What may have been the case of these
men, the day of Judgment will disclose.  “Blessed are the dead which die
in the _Lord_.”  That it was the portion of James Cullingham so to die,
we can have no doubt.  His faith, his converted heart, evidenced by his
life, afford a warrant of good hope as to his condition.  He lived to
Christ, and death was doubtless gain to him.  Whether at sea, or on his
bed, he might sink in peace, for a joyful inheritance would await him.

But what was the lot of the mourners in his own bereaved family on that
sad night?  James Cullingham had left his house in the morning, and that
he was gone, was probably not more noticed than at other times.  It was
expected that the yawl which took him out, would in due course return.

Soon however, alarm arose on the beach, and rapidly spread itself in the
town.  In the evening, it was naturally expected that some news would
come from the Pilots, for the boat which conveyed them to the vessels
must of necessity return.  But no news arrived.  Elizabeth had been sent
to bed by her Mother, who with her other daughter sat alone in the house
in the deepest anxiety.  The wind became very tempestuous.  The snow
drifted.  A solemn awe was spread over the cottage.  But there was
nothing to be done, but to wait, and pray, and to support the mind in
silence; still hoping that every moment would bring them tidings.

The eldest daughter at length went up stairs, leaving her Mother alone.
The three brothers had been on the beach; and soon apprehending the real
state of the case; they had scattered themselves on the coast, several
miles to the southward, hoping that the boat might be driven on shore in
that direction.  Meanwhile a universal apprehension was spread abroad,
and every one who knew how deeply the news would affect the family of
James Cullingham forbore to come to the house, lest they might be the
involuntary means of conveying the sad intelligence.  The Mother sat
alone till the morning, at this time a stranger unwittingly revealed the
extent of the calamity.  She was heard passing the road, when the anxious
wife went to the door to ask whether she had heard any thing of the yawl.
She replied, unconscious to whom she was speaking.  “_Nothing_.  _It will
never come back again_!”  The awful fact now broke in upon the mind of
Mrs. Cullingham.  At once she understood that all was lost; she received
the news however, without any outcry or lamentation.  But it sunk deeply
within.  Her expression to her daughter was, ‘your Father is gone, he is
safely arrived, I shall join him in Heaven.’  She never once was heard to
murmur.  But the blow was intensely severe, and the weight of sorrow
seemed to be borne alike, by the daughters and the Mother.  It may be
said to have been the death signal at a more remote period of Elizabeth,
as well as of her Mother.  Neither of them ever recovered their health.
To the Widow the loss was in all respects very great.  It might truly be
said of her and her husband, “they were pleasant in their lives, and in
their death they were not divided.”  In a very few months, she was called
to follow him.  A large subscription which was raised, chiefly at a
distance from home, together with the property of her husband, and the
assistance of her Children, left the Mother of Elizabeth in no want as to
her worldly circumstances.  But the suddenness, and the manner of her
husband’s death, and the haunting reflection that his body was yet
unburied, left a sort of wretchedness in her mind, which nothing but her
faith and hope could subdue.  Her mode of life was now some what altered.
She had more time to read the Scriptures, which she did every afternoon,
as well as morning and evening.  But in the month of March, she was
attacked with a paralytic stroke.  This was not violent, and it affected
her body more than her mind.  It was a time of deep heart searching to
her, and of preparation for her end.  Her mind might be said to dwell in
heavenly hope.  She was deeply earnest in her devotions.  I have entered
her room, and finding her intent in prayer, have retired unobserved.  Her
mind was not easily distracted when employed in communing with God.  But
her state was not happy; she was oppressed with the sensation of her
disorder, and she continued to feel intensely the circumstances of her
husband’s death, and to mourn over his undiscovered and unburied body.
At length however, it pleased God to relieve her from one of these causes
of grief, by a remarkable interposition of his favor.  By a very singular
accident, her husband’s body was washed on shore in the month of October,
many miles from the place where he was lost.  It had been lying nearly
nine months in the sea, and, on reaching the shore, had been found, and
buried.  Information having been given that a body had been so found, it
was disinterred, and identified by his children.  It was then brought
home to Lowestoft, where it now lies in our churchyard, among the remains
of different members of his family.  This was an occasion which
peculiarly called out the gratitude of his widow.  After this event, she
recovered the full powers of her mind.  During the remaining few weeks of
her life, she seemed to have gained clearer assurance of her own safety,
and a more joyful hope and anticipation of future blessedness.  Her state
of conflict was now changed to one of full assurance of hope.  One
remarkable scene of her last days, of which I was a witness, I will
relate in Elizabeth’s words, copied from her journal.  On the day of her
mother’s death she writes, ‘The Lord has been pleased to take my dear
mother out of this state of trial and suffering.  How calm, how patient
she was through her long and painful illness.  No murmuring, no repining
ever escaped her lips.  Her end was peace.  Mr. C. called to see her on
the Sunday evening: she was then able to speak only at intervals.  He
spoke to her of the joys of heaven.  She appeared to take no notice for
some moments, when suddenly reaching forth her hand to heaven, she
exclaimed, _Christ there_!  Then bringing it back, and laying it on her
heart, she said, _Christ here_!’  How expressive were these simple words
of her state of mind, and of her hope in her Redeemer.  On this day she
spoke to me of ‘going home,’ which was the view she entertained of her
departure.  On the last morning of her life she made sign to her daughter
to read to her: she read part of John xiv.  The mother then clasped her
hands in prayer.  This was nearly the last act of her life.  She seemed
now to be peculiarly alive to the reality of the presence of her Lord and
Saviour as the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and that by Him a heavenly
mansion had been prepared for her.  Her room had been a kind of shelter
from the bustle and confusion of the world around, and her daughters, who
in turn remained at home on the Sabbath day, and read the service of the
Church to her, testified of the comfort which those seasons of retirement
ministered to them.  These were, indeed, times of refreshment from the
Lord.  A friend of her’s thus describes an interview which she had with
her a short time before her death.  ‘I had delightful communication with
her just before I left home: I sat by her bed-side, and we talked much on
the eternal state.  She was entirely sensible, could look at the
approaching dissolution of her body with perfect peace.  We spoke of the
heavenly Jerusalem, and of the joyful prospect before her of entering
into rest: her faith was strong and clear.  She renounced every thing in
herself, and through the unmerited mercy of her dear Redeemer, she felt
assured that her sins were pardoned, and that an abundant entrance would
be ministered to her into the everlasting kingdom of her God and Saviour.
Her life of faith, and of active duty, and her death, so cheered by
confidence in the Good Shepherd, afforded the fullest warrant of this
blessed end of all her labours and her trials.’

I must now carry back this memoir to the beginning of the year.  A
funeral sermon was preached on the occasion of the death of James
Cullingham.  He was a communicant, and his character called for this
public notice.  Advantage was taken of the same occasion to speak of the
death of another individual, a friend of Elizabeth and her mother, and I
believe of most of the servants of God, who came within her reach in our
little flock.  This was Mary Smith.  Her husband’s shop in which she
served, made her well known in the parish, and enabled her to do much for
others, and thus brought into view most of the infirmities which belonged
to her nature.  She was a woman of very marked and zealous character,
well known to those about her, both in her natural and her renewed state.
In both she was industrious and kind-hearted, a good wife, mother, and
neighbour; but in her former state very clearly without that feeling of
religion which marked her latter years.  Indeed it may be said that she
had gone so far as to ‘persecute that way which she afterwards followed.’
She was a very marked instance of an entire change of heart, by the power
of the Holy Spirit.  The natural ardour of her mind was sanctified in her
converted state; it worked with the same power, but in another direction,
and under another influence: she traced the change in her mind to a
sermon which she heard on Phil. ii. 12.  She then set conscientiously
about working out her salvation, and she found her heavenly Father, ever
ready to work in her, both to will and to do of his good pleasure.  Her
sense of this marked interference of the divine power on her behalf was
never lost sight of; for the anniversary of the day when she first gave
heed to the message of salvation, she remembered with much feeling.  Of
her domestic character, those who have lived with her have spoken to me,
and have borne high testimony to her as a wife and a mother, and during
her employment in the business of her shop.  Her will became remarkably
subjected to the will of God in all things.  It may be truly said, that
she did her duties as “to the Lord.”  She had a very praiseworthy habit
of praying with her children, whenever she found them in fault.  Her
religious character was marked by a strict conformity to the doctrines of
the Church, of which she was a consistent, faithful, zealous member.  In
attendance on its services she had been brought to the knowledge of
salvation, and she continued to walk in the truest submission, and the
most lively attachment to its ministry.  In another point she has left us
an example.  She was ever particularly alive to watch for the souls of
others, to lead them forward, and to draw them to seek God.  There are
many now living who could bear witness to the earnestness, with which she
sought to warn the unconverted, to reclaim the wanderer, to recover the
backslider.

Her kindness to her poor neighbours was remarkable.  Her medical man
informed me, that he scarcely ever went into her house, without her first
asking him about some one who wanted relief, which relief she was always
eager to give according to her means, and many were the portions which
her provision-shop supplied.  Few ministers have had a more valuable
‘helper,’ in all respects.  I must add a short account of her, given to
me in writing by one in her own house, who, at the time when she, Mrs. S.
was opposed to spiritual religion, had chosen another fold than the
Church of England in which to seek the way of salvation.  This testimony
is therefore not given in ignorance of her real character, or in undue
partiality to her principles.

After speaking of the striking circumstances of her conversion, the paper
goes on to say, ‘The words of the Apostle were fulfilled in her.  “If any
man be in Christ he is a new creature.  Old things are passed away,
behold, all things are become new.”  Yes, I know the truth of this, for I
have seen it in her who is departed.  Indeed she has proved to all around
her, that she was a faithful follower of the Lord Jesus Christ; not one
who said, “Lord, Lord,” but in works denied him.

‘She showed her love to God by keeping His commandments.  I have known
her, many and many a time, sacrifice her own comforts to relieve her poor
neighbours.  I have known her take her clothes from her back, and her
shoes from her feet.  It was her delight to do her heavenly Father’s will
in all things.  She was determined, as far as she was able, to do good to
all, especially to those of the household of faith.  She was one who
visited the sick and afflicted, the fatherless and widow, and strove to
keep herself unspotted from the world.  Her views of herself were truly
humble: she took the word of God for her guide.  She did not shun to
reprove sin, but knowing the terror of the Lord, she sought to persuade
her fellow-sinners to be reconciled to God.  She sought after backsliders
with great care and perseverance, and aimed to encourage those that stood
fast in the Lord.  Her love of the means of grace, both public and
private, was very great, and witnessed by her regular attendance on them.
Her patience in her affliction, and resignation to the will of God, was
indeed striking.  Her sufferings and trials had been many in life, “but
not too many,” as she said on her dying bed.  The cup had been wisely
mixed by her heavenly Father.’

January 2.  She began to complain of her head, and the next day she was
wholly confined to her bed.  Two days after, she became so weak as to be
unable to help herself.  On Sunday the 7th she took but little notice.
She was then asked, whether she was happy.  She replied, ‘Oh, yes, very
happy, very happy: Christ very precious to me.’  At another time she was
asked, whether she could say, with the Apostle, that she was “ready to be
offered up?”  ‘Oh yes,’ she said.  On Monday, speaking of death as the
gate of life, she said, ‘O blessed gate—it is the gate of heaven to me:’
and at another time, ‘Christ is all in all to me.’  On the following
morning she had the power of attention, and answered to the prayer of
others in a fervent Amen.  So she departed in peace and blessedness.

                                * * * * *

I must now return to the history of Elizabeth Cullingham.  Deep and
constant was her grief at her father’s death.  She sympathized with her
family; but she had then the pleasing task of waiting on her mother
through her long affliction, and never was nursing more tenderly
ministered, or more kindly received than by these two sisters, and their
sinking parent.  If there was some variety in their form of worship,
their feelings were the same.  To gratify their mother’s wishes was next
to the love of God, the main object with her daughters.  With her

    ‘That constant flow of love, that knew no fall,
    Ne’er roughened by those cataracts and breaks,
    That humour interposed too often makes.’

Whilst they

    ‘The tender office now engage,
    To rock the cradle of reposing age,
    With lenient arts extend a mother’s breath,
    Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death;
    Explore the thought, explain the asking eye,
    And keep awhile _one_ parent from the sky!

But I must suffer Elizabeth again to speak for herself.

What follows was written at the close of the year of sorrow, through
which she had just past.  ‘Thou, O Lord, hast seen fit to take both my
parents from me, but thy word of promise is, “When father and mother
forsake thee, the Lord will take thee up.”  Enable me, O Lord, to follow
my dear parents, as they followed Christ; that when time with me shall be
no more, I may have a joyful entrance into thy kingdom, where parting
shall be no more known, and every tear shall be wiped from my now weeping
eyes.  I would desire, blessed Lord, to submit to thy will in these most
affecting bereavements.  O comfort me with the consolations of thy
Spirit, and bring me and my dear brothers and sisters near to thyself.
Amidst our many trials may we remember our many mercies.  May we be
enabled to thank Thee for all.  What a comfort not to sorrow as those
without hope: but to be assured that through the merits of Christ our
dear parents are translated from a body of sin and corruption, to a
glorious immortality.’

So Elizabeth wound up the history of the past eventful year.  Her
patience, meekness, and resignation, her thankfulness for the mercies she
received, and her joyous hope are alike an instructive lesson to us all.

I find another interesting record at the beginning of the year 1839.

‘I have now entered upon another year.  Oh how different do all things
now appear, to what they did at the commencement of the last.  I was then
blessed with my dear parents, and I looked forward for some years of
comfort and of guidance from them; but thy ways, O Lord, are not my ways,
neither are Thy thoughts my thoughts; Thou hast taken them from me that I
may look to thee alone for help and comfort.  O give me grace to seek all
I want from Thee.  Wean me, blessed Lord, from the world, and all its
treatments, and enable me to live entirely to Thee.  Thou knowest, Lord,
my weakness and proneness to start aside from my best Friend, but pardon
all Thou hast seen amiss in me, through the past year, and enable me now
to live more devotedly to Thy service.’

The method which she chose of quietly taking a review of the past, and
forecasting the circumstances of the new year, appeared to be peculiarly
profitable, and may afford a direction as to the mode of spending this
interesting season.

Elizabeth and her sister were now thrown on their own resources.  Their
father’s house was sold for the benefit of his family.  After their
removal, they kept a school.  This flourished, and it was a great
benefit, as far as it went, in the parish, being conducted with so much
good order and Christian feeling.  But after a time, the noise of the
children became unbearable to Elizabeth, and obliged her sister to give
it up, and to turn to other means of support.  Elizabeth’s mind, as
appears from her Journal, was all this time gradually growing in grace.
The habits of their little family were very regular.  The two sisters
read three or four verses, and prayed together every morning, in addition
to the usual family prayer with their brother, who lived with them.
Elizabeth’s chief infirmity was a proneness to be hurt by unkindness or
neglect; this she tried to conquer, and through Divine Grace, succeeded
to a great degree.  She had always been careful of her money, feeling how
needful it might be to her in her weakly state of health.  At the time of
her death she had a small sum in the savings bank; but she was alive to
the snare of covetousness.  She used to say, what shall we give?  She
subscribed to the Missionary and the Jewish Society, and originated a
little Bible Society collection: but she also felt the duty of denying
herself, that she might save something more for these works of charity.
She was constantly diligent, and during the last winter of her life she
read the Scriptures a great deal, and grew proportionally in grace.  She
was regular in her attendance at the different meetings, being generally
accompanied by a friend in somewhat similar circumstances of life, who
was attached to our communion.  But nothing more marked her character
than a holy, humble, simple, unpretending walk, carrying about with her,
I may truly say, the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit.  She repeatedly
wrote in her Journal during the last year of her life.  Her observations
were chiefly founded on sermons which she had heard, and which she
applied to herself.  There was not one observation in them of a carping
critical character.  But what she received she sought to turn to the best
profit, and to obtain from it growth in grace.  Speaking of the sermon of
a young Minister among us, she was struck with his appeal for decision in
religion, on the ground of the uncertainty of life.  ‘O,’ she adds, ‘how
he warned and exhorted the young to decide for God, that they might
obtain pardon and peace here, and happiness in the world to come.’  She
concludes her account of another sermon.  ‘Help me, O Lord, to watch
always, that I sin not against Thee, and help me so to pray, that the
enemy may flee before me:’ and again, ‘Help me, blessed Lord, to be daily
growing in holiness, humility, and love, that I may feel in every trial,
and temptation, thou art my Rock and Defence.’  As the summary of one
week, she says, ‘I have felt my soul decay in the last week.  The enemy
has been permitted to buffet and assault me very much, tempting me to
unbelief.  But O thou compassionate Saviour, who prayed for thy disciple
of old, that his faith might not fail, look upon me, and deliver me from
my strong foe.  O strengthen my faith, for it is weak.  Show me wherein I
have sinned; lift up the light of thy countenance upon me.’  Again, after
a sermon of Mr. Allen’s.  ‘What encouragement to the believer to know
that Jesus, his Saviour and Redeemer, has before trodden every painful
path, and endured every conflict, and has promised that as he overcame,
so shall we, through his merit.’

She heard a Sermon from a minister before alluded to, on growth in
religion, in which that subject was illustrated by a tree in the growth
of its roots, in its branches, and in its fruitfulness.  The subject
appears very much to have struck her.  She concludes it by saying, ‘Help
me, blessed Lord, to be daily growing in holiness, humility and love; and
may I feel in every trial and temptation, that thou art my Rock, and my
Defence.’  ‘Nov. 24.  I have felt much depressed to day by fretfulness
and coldness: O Lord, quicken me.’  ‘Heard Mr. R. this evening, from Luke
v. 31, 32.  Felt my mind much impressed by the Sermon.  Blessed Lord,
impress it on my heart, by thy Spirit.  Strip me of all
self-righteousness, make me feel more and more, my need of thee.’

The above extracts from her Journal, will shew the quiet working of the
Spirit of God in her heart, chiefly by means of the word of God.  Other
means are not so commonly and particularly alluded to by her, but she
always in life expressed her profit in all; in the Lord’s Supper, in the
social prayer meetings on Monday Evening, and Sunday Morning, and the
bible class, all of which she continued constantly to attend.  I add two
testimonials concerning her.  One of them was communicated to a friend at
a distance, who had been staying some time in Lowestoft, and who had been
made acquainted with Elizabeth.  It is written by a person who was in the
constant habit of seeing her, and who knew her well.  The other is
written by a very intimate friend.

                                              _Lowestoft_, _July_ 6. 1840.

    MY DEAR FRIEND,

    ‘I must indulge myself by writing a few lines to you, for my heart is
    full to-night.  We have lost our sweet young friend Elizabeth
    Cullingham, in whom you were so much interested.  Do not you remember
    her spiritual and interesting prayer, the first morning I went with
    you to the Sunday prayer meeting?  I recollect introducing her to
    you.  She was indeed a true christian.  I never recollect to have
    heard any one find the slightest fault with her, nor had I myself
    ever occasion to do so in all the intercourse I have had with her,
    during the last nine years.  Her’s was indeed a chaste conversation,
    coupled with fear.  It was not the outward adorning of wearing of
    gold, or of putting on of apparel, but the ornament of a meek and
    quiet Spirit, which shone most conspicuously in her.  Chastity,
    meekness, and modesty were her striking characteristics.  I am glad I
    introduced you so particularly to her, and I think you will not
    forget the sweet impression of those _visits_.  Her lovely subdued
    countenance, her neat appearance, the perfect consistency of her
    dress, for she was always beautifully neat.  I think—I may say I
    never knew her expend money on ribbon or other unnecessary article in
    dress.  I mention this as it is a rare quality, even amongst the
    sober and serious young people.  The love of dressing beyond their
    means and situation in life is so common a habit, and so great a
    temptation to young people in general, that her correct conduct in
    this respect, was one lovely fruit of having her affections set on
    things above.  O that our dear young people might see and feel the
    beauty of this line of conduct.  By her circumspect and careful
    conduct, she silenced every tongue that could rise up against her.
    The wandering and unsettled desire after pleasure, was quite subdued
    in her.  She was content to lead a quiet, sober, religious life.  She
    found it better to avoid the general society of young persons, and
    was sweetly content in the situation in which God had placed her;
    setting an example to other young women of the beauty of a retired
    and modest demeanour, avoiding from taste, as well as principle, all
    society that was not religious.  She felt that light and trifling
    intercourse with those whose hearts followed after vanity and
    pleasure, was unprofitable and hurtful.  O how blessed it is to see
    young persons turn away from following vanity!  To see as a fruit of
    religion, a separation from the world, from the manners, the
    appearance, and the spirit of it.  I saw all this in Elizabeth.  She
    had for many years been a member of our women’s meeting, and though
    one of the youngest, her ardent love of the ministry under which she
    lived, her Christian experience, and occasionally her prayers, were a
    help and comfort to our society, and she was most persevering, though
    often very ill.

    ‘I must also notice her example in the house of God.  There was no
    lightness, or carelessness in her demeanour, but her mind seemed to
    be filled with the sense of the divine presence, and to be thirsting
    after the knowledge of his truth; she gave the deepest attention to
    the preacher’s word.  No religious mind can shew lightness in the
    house of God.  How often have I enjoyed sweet sympathy with her, when
    sitting near her in her usual seat at St. Peter’s Chapel.  Have we
    not endeavoured to “pray with the Spirit, and to sing with the
    understanding also?”  I could weep from my heart to find her seat
    empty.  She met patiently her many trials, and meekly bowed her head
    to the will of God.  The awful death of her father in the yawl, had
    deeply afflicted her; indeed she never recovered the shock: but I may
    say, under every trial and bodily suffering, of which she had much, I
    never heard her complain, but with calm serenity she yielded herself
    unto the Lord.

    ‘I had the privilege of visiting her the day before her death, and
    found her sweetly serene and happy, full of confidence in her
    Saviour; delighting in prayer, and evidently finding it “sweet to lie
    passive in her Saviour’s hands,” and to know no will but his.  And
    the next day, a few hours before her end, can I ever forget the
    solemn impressive scene of our partaking of the body and blood of
    Christ together in the Holy Sacrament; her deep attention—her
    response to the words of the service—her fervent manner in taking the
    bread, as a sign or seal of her living upon Christ, who was to her
    soul the bread of life, and her drinking the wine as an emblem of
    that blood, that she had felt to be so _precious_?’

    ‘After this solemn communion together, we united in earnest prayer
    and thanksgiving on her account, that the works in her might be
    finished in righteousness, and that she might soon find herself in
    the glorious mansions prepared for her, by the beloved of her soul.
    She appeared perfectly sensible, and able to taste this spiritual and
    interesting communication with us.  I then arose and took my leave of
    her.’

The testimony of her friend is as follows:

    ‘During the ten years of my intercourse with her, I have found her
    conversation as becometh the gospel of Christ.  She has treated me at
    all times with a sisterly affection and respect; I have proved her a
    tried friend, one that would not forsake in time of trouble.  Though
    separated for three years, I always found her the same dear friend as
    ever.  I have often been cheered with her kind exhortation to me, to
    seek with earnestness the Lord, and attend at all times the means of
    grace, telling me they were indeed channels, through which the Lord
    bestowed his blessings to his faithful followers.  Though we were
    separated in body, we were not separated in our union with Christ.
    When I have needed reproof, she has given it to me, but in the
    meekest manner possible.  She was also very tender over the faults of
    others.  I never heard her speak unkindly of any one—“considering
    herself, lest she also should be tempted.”  She was most earnest for
    a revival in religion, both in our own Church, and for the spread of
    the gospel in distant lands.  This was evident, both in her prayers
    and her zeal in subscribing to different societies.  How sorry are we
    to lose her name from the number of those young people who are
    interested in the Jews, for we always found her most willing to aid
    in this delightful cause, and what she gave, seemed to be in the
    spirit of prayer.  How often I have heard her pour forth her heart in
    prayer, that the Jews might be brought into the fold of Christ; and
    truly we may say, concerning our Bible Association, which was formed
    amongst a few of us, that indeed our head is gone.  She was so deeply
    interested in it, and did so long for the Anniversary Meeting, that
    our subscription might be carried in, not to gain the praise of men,
    but with a desire to do something for the glory of God.  But she is
    gone, and her works do follow her.  May I always remember her
    christian walk and conversation, for in her I saw the fruits of the
    Spirit shine forth, for she was not desirous of vain glory, but in
    all points, she esteemed others better than herself.  Humbly do I
    hope, that the grace which made her to differ, may constrain me to
    walk in her steps.’

The commencement of the year 1840, the last year of Elizabeth’s life, is
noticed by her in her Journal, with her usual seriousness.

    ‘Through the mercy of God, I have been permitted to enter upon
    another year; and O how much have I to thank him for the mercies of
    the year that is passed.  I have had many little illnesses, but the
    Lord has in mercy spared me, while many that I know, have been
    summoned to give up their account.  O Lord what am I, that thou hast
    spared me a worthless worm of the earth?  O fill my heart with love
    and gratitude for all thy mercies to me, and if my life be spared,
    may it be entirely devoted to thy service.  Great God, enable me to
    live to thee.  O let me enjoy all that I have, as coming from thee,
    and whatever thou art pleased to take from me, take not away thy Holy
    Spirit.  O blessed Spirit, who art One with the Father, and the Son,
    enter into my poor sinful heart, and root out all my sinful and
    corrupt affections and reveal Jesus to me as all in all.’

As her time drew to a close, her conflicts do not seem to have been
lessened.

On March 24.  She says, ‘Being off my guard this morning, the enemy
gained an advantage over me in my temper.  Immediately I felt my sin, and
was led to cry out, “Against thee, thee only have I sinned.”  I was
almost driven to despair, but these precious promises were applied, “If
any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the
righteousness,” and “the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin.”  O my
God whom I have offended, let this be a warning to me to watch and pray,
that I enter not into temptation.’

On her birth-day she says, ‘I have passed another year of my life; but O
my God, how little to thy glory.  I have been very much tried in my soul
of late.  The enemy has been permitted to tempt me very much with
unbelief.  Sometimes I question whether I am a Christian at all, yet my
desire is to love and serve my God.  The conflict is sharp, yet do I
believe Jesus will deliver me.  I do feel willing to part with any thing,
if Jesus smile upon me.’

‘On Sunday, heard a sermon from Mr. R. on these words, “There shall not a
hair of your head perish.”  The sermon was delightfully encouraging.  I
have felt the comfort of it during the last week, having had some little
perplexing things to meet.  O how sweet to feel in the time of trial and
temptation, that nothing is unnoticed by our Heavenly Father.

‘Sunday, April 12.  I feel my health very poorly.  I know not what the
Lord is about to do with me.  Whether life or death, Lord make me thine.
I desire to glorify thy name upon earth, and find my way to heaven.’

Her usual industry and care in recording the sermons she heard, appears
this year as it did the last.  But I pass over all these records, and now
I come to the last entry of her Journal.  It is dated April 17.  Good
Friday.

    ‘I was informed divine service began half an hour later than it did.
    I was therefore very late at Chapel, which vexed me very much.  I
    could not enjoy the service.  My head is in a very bad state.  The
    enemy takes advantage of my bodily infirmities and sorely distresses
    me.  I was led this afternoon, earnestly to entreat the Lord to
    direct my mind to some portion of his word for comfort.  I prayed
    with the Bible before me, and opened on 2 Cor. xii. 9.  Satan then
    seemed to say, this is not for you; but my God tells me, “His grace
    is sufficient for me.”  Lord, enable me to trust in thee.’

It was a strong act of faith, performed with suitable solemnity, which
made this young woman believe that she should find in the Bible an answer
to her prayer.  But she did so in a remarkable manner, and having
received the direction to depend on the grace of God as sufficient for
her, how strikingly her faith led her to hold it fast, so that angel,
principality, or power could not separate her from it.  But how
instructive is her example in dealing with temptation.  She felt its
danger; she sought, as the weapon of defence, “the sword of the Spirit,
which is the word of God.”  The Lord was pleased to direct her to a
suitable text.  She received it in faith and obtained the victory.  Most
gladly, therefore, might she with the Apostle, “glory in her infirmities,
that the power of Christ might rest upon her,” and say with him, “When I
am weak then am I strong.”’

The last months of Elizabeth’s life afforded her the means of quietly
pursuing her course in preparation for her end.  She was unable to do
more than work at her needle.  This however afforded her the opportunity
of calm and continual meditation.  Her circumstances were entirely
favourable for her state of mind.  Her kind brother who resided with her
and her sister made every effort to afford her relief.  In the last ten
days of her life her symptoms became more decided: she laid aside her
work, and ceased to think of the things of the world.  She herself was
not at that time able to read, but she could still listen to others.  On
the Sunday evening the subject of heaven and reunion with those already
there, chiefly occupied her attention.  Her state was calm and suffering,
but neither she, nor any one, thought her end was so near; but I will
give the account of this from her sister and constant companion.

    ‘The health of my dear sister had been some time declining; her last
    illness was short and severe: she suffered much pain, but bore it
    with Christian patience and resignation.  Her weakness was extreme;
    she could speak but little, but when able to converse, she would
    freely tell me the state of her mind.  She was indeed building on the
    Rock of Ages, on the sure foundation; but she had humbling views of
    herself, although sweet and exalted views of the Saviour.  We did not
    think death so near; but the last morning of her life a sudden change
    took place, which was better perceived by those around her, than felt
    by herself.  As usual, in the morning we read and prayed together.
    She joined with peculiar earnestness: but when I had risen from my
    knees I could not refrain from weeping.  I saw her hands darkened in
    colour, which marked the alteration in her bodily state.  She asked
    me why I cried.  I said, I am sorry to see you so ill.  She answered,
    ‘I thought I was better this morning.’  With great anxiety I waited
    the arrival of her medical attendant, and soon found my fears
    respecting the near approach of death were not groundless.  Upon my
    again entering the room, she anxiously enquired the opinion of the
    doctor.  I told her as gently as the excited state of my feelings
    would permit.  I asked if she could rest her soul on Christ.  She
    said, “Yes, I feel peace; but O for a fuller assurance.”  I told her
    we had sent for Mr. C. and her brothers, at which she expressed great
    satisfaction, and said, “I feel drowsy, but do not let me sleep; I
    have no time for sleeping; I want to speak while I can.”’

When I arrived in her chamber, she said at once, ‘I think that I am
dying.’  I did not contradict her.  She then expressed herself as not
feeling all that joy in her departure which she had hoped might have been
her portion.  But the fact was, that a profound humility gave a tone to
all her feelings of herself.  She put me in mind of the expression of Mr.
Simeon on his dying bed.  ‘I think that if you should see me die, you
will not see me die triumphantly.  No! triumph will not suit me till I
get to heaven.  If I am admitted, as I hope to be there, then, if there
be one that will sing louder than the rest, I think I shall be that one;
but while here, I am a sinner, a redeemed sinner, and as such I would lie
here to the last, at the foot of the cross, looking unto Jesus, and go as
such into the presence of God.’  Elizabeth’s Journal shews this to have
been her feeling.  She then, however, declared her sense of the
possession of a true peace, founded on the atonement of her Saviour.  She
expressed a very earnest desire for the spiritual welfare of all about
her, especially of the young with whom she met in the Bible Class.  She
was dying.  She asked to receive the Sacrament.  I engaged to come in the
afternoon, and administer it.  In all this there was nothing of hurry, or
fearfulness, or mistrust, but the image of a soul fearing no evil, and
walking though the Valley of the Shadow of Death, with the comfort of her
Saviour’s rod and staff.  It left no doubt in my mind as to her state of
blessedness.  But I will now return to her sister’s narrative.  ‘On Mr.
C.’s arrival, he conversed and prayed with her; she then requested to
receive the Sacrament: he took his leave, promising soon to return.  She
now took an affectionate leave of her brothers and other relatives,
speaking to each with great kindness, respecting the salvation of their
never dying souls.  After settling some little affairs (this was the
distribution of her little property, and the gift of some money to the
societies to which she had subscribed) she looked at me, and said, I
think that is all.  ‘How long will Mr. C. be, I wish him to come now.’  I
said, ‘Dear, I will send for and hasten him.’  She said, ‘Do so, I wish
once more to commemorate the dying love of the Saviour on earth, then I
will lay me down and die in Jesus.’’

    Jesus can make a dying bed,
    Feel soft as downy pillows are.

The scene of this celebration of the Lord’s Supper I shall not readily
forget.  Herself, her sisters, the valued friends of her life, were
before me.  Her own countenance was so beautifully calm and heavenly.
She sat up, but she was sinking very fast, and I feared that she might
die during the service; but all the while she made the greatest effort to
give all her strength to this holy ordinance.  She followed me in the
responses, and at the conclusion I read over to her the blessing of the
‘Visitation of the Sick,’ ‘Unto God’s gracious mercy and protection we
commit thee.  The Lord bless thee, and keep thee; the Lord make his face
to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee.  The Lord lift up the
light of his countenance on thee, and give thee peace both now and
evermore.’  I do not expect again to see a face upon which the radiant
light of God’s countenance may shine more brightly and happily than upon
this dying saint.  The scene was most touching in every way.  After I had
done, a dear friend, one whom I have mentioned before, commended her soul
to God, in a solemn strain of spiritual blessing.  After a pause, at her
own request, I read her a hymn.  I then took my leave, desiring to give
up her dying moments to her own disposal, and feeling that there were
others in the house to whom she might wish to speak some last words of
admonition or of comfort.

‘After partaking of the Sacrament,’ her sister continues, ‘she appeared
sweetly composed, while Mr. C. commended her parting soul to God.  She
then looked round, as if looking for some one, and as I approached the
bed, she fixed her dying eyes upon me, and said, “Happy translation.”  I
said, “Dear, do you feel very happy now?”  She answered, “O yes, happy.”
{62}  Soon after this, her medical man, Mr. B., came in, and she
conversed with him on her approaching end.  She said she was sure he had
done all he could in a medical point of view.  She thanked him for his
attention during her illness, and then added, “Now, sir, pray with me.”
After prayer, she repeated the following lines:—

    ‘What is there here to court my stay,
    Or hold me back from home;
    While angels beckon me away,
    And Jesus bids me come.’

Some time after, she said, ‘now I must pray for patience to wait the
Lord’s time.  Come Lord Jesus!’  Soon after she said, ‘I would not come
back again, now I have got a glimpse of the heavenly kingdom.’  She made
use of similar expressions, till she gradually sunk in death, and her
Spirit took its flight to the paradise of God.

The funeral of Elizabeth Cullingham took place in the usual course.  It
was attended, as well by her own family, as by many of her christian
friends.  There was nothing in it to call for attention.  It was
consistent with her own simple unostentatious life.  A large party of the
attendants met at a neighbouring cottage, where the voice of thanksgiving
was raised for the mercies which had been granted to our departed friend,
and prayer was offered up for all who had been connected with her.  On
the ensuing Sunday Evening, a funeral Sermon was preached on her account.
The text was taken from Rev. iii. 12.  “Him that overcometh will I make a
pillar in the temple of my God, and he shall go no more out: and I will
write upon him the name of my God, which is new Jerusalem, which cometh
down out of heaven from my God: and I will write upon him my new name.”

The subjects dwelt upon in the Sermon were—The course of a christian’s
life; and the eternal reward which follows his death.  The victory over
the world, the flesh, and the devil was through divine grace, obtained by
our departed friend, and now she has her reward.  She is become a pillar
in the temple of her God, to shew forth his praises through eternity
amidst the redeemed in heaven; where “they hunger no more, neither thirst
any more: neither shall the sun light on them nor any heat.  For the lamb
which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them
unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from
their eyes.”

Her tomb stone in the church yard, bears a memorial to the truth of which
all who attended upon her in her last hours can bear witness.  They are
lines somewhat transposed from a beautiful little poem of Mr. Dale’s.

    ‘Triumphant in thy closing eye,
    The hope of glory shone;
    Joy breath’d in thy expiring sigh,
    To think the fight was won.

    ‘And thus shall faith’s consoling power,
    The tears of love restrain,
    O! who that saw thy parting hour,
    Could wish thee back again?’

                            SHE WAS AGED 28 YEARS.

In drawing this memorial to a conclusion, I wish to add a few words in
the way of encouragement to any young persons, who may read the account
which has been given.

In the first place I wish to repeat, what I have before stated, that the
subject of this history had nothing in her natural character or her
situation in life, which distinguished her case from that of thousands.
She was not particularly clever, or naturally very amiable, or very much
instructed, or a person of great leisure, or brought up under very
extraordinary circumstances.  She had a moderate portion of talents
committed to her—but she used what she had well.  I know how prone we all
are, to think that others around us have advantages which we have not,
and to take this for an excuse for not giving ourselves to God as others
do.

I wish to make the same remark about all the persons whose history has
been introduced into this memoir.  They were occupied in business, or
engaged in the common duties of life; they had no greater advantages than
belong to many of their neighbours, they were persons of like passions
with others.  There is nothing therefore in their case to make an excuse
for those who have not followed in their steps.  It must however be
admitted that some individuals are often situated in a more favourable
position than others for the cultivation of religious duties, and I am
willing to allow that Elizabeth Cullingham had every advantage of this
kind.  At the same time I say without hesitation, that I believe the
great mass of our young people possess the means, by which she gained her
highest advantages.  The preached word seems to have been her chief
outward help, and the ordinary instruction in the scriptures, and the
little meetings for prayer, were the means of grace which she followed.
Within her own mind, however, she at the same time laboured diligently,
she watched and prayed, she came out from worldly temptation, and she
sought to set her affections on things above.  But these efforts are
within the reach of all who will enter upon them.  Such is the liberty
given to young persons in this present day, that it seems to me, that in
almost any case, the excuse of not having the fullest opportunity of
obtaining religious instruction is groundless.  There may indeed be cases
where young persons are deprived of a liberty which they should always
have of attending at the House of God at stated times.  But these
instances are very few.  No! the fault is not with the husbandman.  ‘What
could I have done more,’ the divine master says, ‘that I have not done.’
It is with ourselves.  Our heavenly Father would gather us to himself,
but we will not.

But, I will shortly point out the chief rules of christian doctrine, by
which I think that Elizabeth advanced to that state, in which she became
so meet for her heavenly rest.

A chief failing which is constantly dwelt upon in her writings is that
_of her own sinfulness_.  I will not refer to any more passages of her
Journal, but we may gather this from those already cited.  This sense of
sinfulness, distinct from a mere regret at the inconvenience and disgrace
of sin, must form the foundation of a sound religious state; ‘against
thee, thee only have I sinned,’ was David’s feeling.  Thus it was with
Elizabeth Cullingham also.  Notwithstanding her meek and holy walk, and
the conscientious feeling which she had of the uprightness of her
motives, she felt the deceitfulness of her heart, and the sinfulness of
her state in the sight of God; and that she had within her a root of
bitterness, which continually brought condemnation, and which required
the constant renewal of the Holy Ghost to overcome.

But in this, ‘her fervent spirit laboured.  Here she fought, and here
obtained fresh triumphs o’er herself.’  Still the sinfulness of her
nature was a subject continually present in her mind.  She mourned over
it; she strove against it; and it was a constant burden, which only the
cross of Christ could enable her to bear.

But a second feeling which dwelt in her mind, and which produced the most
important practical consequences was, that _God is reconciled to sinners
through the Atonement of Jesus Christ_, _and received in the heart by
Faith_.  The doctrine conveyed by this view of religion was the
foundation stone on which her peace, and liberty in prayer, and holiness
rested.  “Ye,” says the Apostle, “who were far off, are made nigh by the
blood of Christ, for he is our peace,” and “being justified by faith, we
have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.”  Although constantly
cast down by the sense of her sinfulness, Elizabeth was enabled, as
constantly to look by faith to the Atonement; and if her sense of sin, by
reason of the assaults of Satan, became greater as she advanced in years,
yet with it, her hope of pardon increased, so that in the end, she felt
an assurance that an ‘entrance would be ministered unto her abundantly,
into the everlasting kingdom of her Lord and Saviour.’  On the doctrine
of the Atonement moreover was founded her _comfort in prayer_, for it was
only as she felt that God was willing to accept her as a returning child,
that she was enabled to ask with confidence.  But in this belief, she was
enabled to go to God, with the simplicity of a child.  She felt that he,
who as a Father had redeemed her, was now willing freely to give her all
things.  Moreover, this doctrine was the foundation of her _holiness_, as
she believed that she was _not_ pardoned by any work of her own, so she
was not tempted to measure her goodness towards God by a rule, or
standard which she judged might constitute his requirements; but her aim
was rather to serve Him in the measure in which she loved Him, with all
her heart, and mind, and soul, and strength.  If she had felt that she
had been justified by works, she would have sought only to have done
those works which might have secured her pardon; but now, being justified
by faith, its constant attendant, _constraining love_, was begotten in
the mind, and she felt that there was nothing she did not long to devote
to the service of her God and Saviour.

One other doctrine was a source of the greatest comfort and benefit to
her, it was a _belief in the converting_, _consoling power of the Holy
Ghost_.  Her dependence for growth in Christian graces, was alone on the
power of the Holy Spirit; the love of the Spirit seemed to dwell in her
heart, and she was most anxious not to lose this holy influence by sin,
or by doubts, or unwillingness to receive his Holy influences.

Her whole creed and course of conduct, may be said to have been very
simple.  It was that directed by the Church, to which she was greatly
attached, and which she followed with a holy, humble, obedient mind.  Her
aim was constantly to lead a serious, practical, quiet life, she meddled
very little with the world, she aimed to live above it.  Her chief desire
was to be a follower of Christ, according to the station in which she had
been placed.

But I now wish to add a word on the choice which she so deliberately made
of a life dedicated to religion, and the advantages which resulted to her
from it.

How many refuse to take the course of religious duty, thinking its
pursuits irksome, its reward in no wise tending to present, whatever they
may do to future, comfort.  But I may venture to assert, from the
constant demeanour of our departed friend, that although her course was
one of conflict and of trial, it was still one of substantial peace and
comfort; and if she had not the joys which the world esteems, she had
others which never left her, till she exchanged them for higher and purer
delights.  She early learned that young people, who fancy that
substantial enjoyment is only to be found in the ordinary pleasures of
life, make a great mistake.  There may be much of indulgence or of
excitement in worldly gratifications, and those who seek them may reap a
present pleasure from them, but substantial happiness is alone to be
found in religion.  For this is a happiness which does not depend on
external circumstances, it is the same in all states of life, and usually
it rises higher when the hour of trial and of sickness comes on, which
deadens the present enjoyments of life, and overwhelms the senses.  It
makes the cup run over even in the deepest desolations which the
Christian is called to pass through.

But O how incomparably more blessed is her state now, and will be in all
eternity, than if she had followed another course in life!  She now
regrets nothing she suffered, by which the work of God in her own soul
was carried on; she rejoices to have borne the cross, inasmuch as it hath
worked for her a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.  All the
seed of good which for years she was permitted to sow, she now reaps, and
the fruit of it shall all be gathered into the garner of God.

If then _she_ found the way of religion to be a way of pleasantness, and
a path of peace, and if now she is reaping a good reward for the
confession of Christ, we have the same way opened by which to return to
the Father, and the Holy Spirit is at hand to teach us, to enlighten, to
strengthen, to comfort, to direct us in prayer.  Let no one refuse the
offer which the Gospel makes of its blessings.  Let all, without delay,
hasten to give themselves up to the service of Christ, not doubting but
‘if they are stedfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the
Lord, their labour will not be in vain in the Lord.’

                                * * * * *

                                 THE END.

                                * * * * *

                                PRINTED BY
                 L. AND G. SEELEY, THAMES DITTON, SURREY.




Footnotes


{62}  I have subsequently to this event, found the same signal of faith
in a dying person recorded in one of Mr. Richmond’s tracts.—_Vide
Churchman’s Monthly Review_.  April 1841.




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