Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

"November 15th.-Deeply exercised; nevertheless my soul has looked up and longed after God, and I have been favoured with some sweet smiles from on high. Above all, I have panted to live a life of sacrifice. My soul has daily been engaged in saying, Let me suffer, do, and enjoy the will of God."

During the years spent at Luton, the congregations were favoured with showers of holy influence, and a considerable number of hopeful converts were added to the church. The town-chapel had long been too small for the congregation, and now the difficulty of obtaining accommodation increased. Large sums were raised towards the erection of that spacious and noble edifice in which the Wesleyans of Luton now worship. But the sojourn here was destined to be one of suffering, as well as of toil. Toward the close of the year 1850, Mr. Stephenson had a stroke, nearly approaching to apoplexy, which for a while laid him quite prostrate, and from the effects of which he never wholly recovered. Under his affliction, he was sustained by the consolations of Divine grace; yet the first Sabbaths spent in a sick room seemed very sad: the servant of Christ longed to be in the adoring assembly, and again to proclaim the word of life. With trembling hand, and all his powers enfeebled, he tried to pen down some notes for a sermon on "I am Thine, save me;" and sighed for strength to deliver it. After a while, he entered the pulpit again, and strove to publish to others those doctrines from which he had himself derived unspeakable comfort and succour. "If it be the will of God," he wrote in June, 1851, "that I should still preach, I intend my most constant themes to be perfect love, and that future blessedness for which love prepares. These subjects are the most congenial to my feelings; and I indulge the hope that dwelling upon them may conduce to the restoration of my health and spirits. But I think it will be almost a miracle if ever I recover from my depression and forgetfulness."

Health somewhat improving, he thought he might venture to continue another year in the full work of the ministry; and he was accordingly appointed to Tadcaster. From the Newcastle Conference he wrote: "August 1st, 1851.- My earnest prayer is, that, if sent, I may be holy and useful. May He who called and sent me forth to preach His word support and guide my faltering steps, and crown me with living fire!" For a while he struggled on at Tadcaster against increasing debility; sometimes favoured (as he said) "with marvellous power and liberty, and enjoying the work more than ever;" but on other occasions feeling himself altogether unequal to the solemn task. It soon became imperative to call in the help of a junior Preacher. "I am ashamed to dishonour my work," wrote the disabled soldier of Christ, "by efforts to go on longer. If the Lord be pleased to send me into a quiet corner, or to ordain that I must soon leave the work and go to the 'long-sought rest,' I wish to acquiesce. It is the Lord: let Him dispose of me as He pleases."

The Stations for 1352, on which he appeared as one retiring from the regular ministry, he received while on a visit at Coventry.

"They tell," he says, "that I am a Supernumerary. I am afflicted by the rod of Providence, and I must endeavour to bear the affliction with patience. It is intended either to wean from the world, and to sanctify my soul, or in some way to work out the scheme of Providence. Have I not yielded my soul and body to Him, to do or to suffer His will? and shall I now find fault? Surely it does not become me to repine as though any part of Heaven's plan were confounded or thwarted: that cannot be. The counsels of God stand fast for ever. Ofttimes, it is true, He has wonderful ways of accomplishing His plans; and surely this is one." - He chose Rochdale as the place of his retirement. Here he delighted to visit old Christian friends, and was refreshed by evidences of their affection. It was, doubtless, a severe trial to feel that he could no longer take part in conducting the services of the sanctuary; yet he loved to be present there, and to the last he prayed occasionally at the family-altar with much fervour. Under date of January 25th, 1853, he writes: "I am brought very low; but I can give myself unto prayer. We have just now special services in our chapel: I am not able to take part in them, but have come home to pray to our heavenly Father, who seeth in secret, and who has promised to reward us openly." A deep humiliation before God, which had characterized Mr. Stephenson when in health, became yet more impressively apparent in the time of feebleness; and that strong faith in Christ, the Refuge and Rest of contrite souls, which had supported him through life, became yet stronger as he drew near to the grave. Never for a moment was he troubled with doubt as to his interest in the great atonement: he sighed only for power to love and praise his Redeemer more. He delighted much in religious conversation; and to speak to him about the conversion of a sinner, or the triumphant death of a believer, was at once to arouse and cheer him. The tender love he bore to his family was most touchingly manifested amid all his sufferings. At the close of one of his last Sabbaths on earth, he had the privilege of uniting in holy communion with his dear wife and children, to commemorate the Redeemer's death, and to anticipate His glorious return. On the 26th of July, 1854, God called away the soul of His servant to a better world; and gladly that soul quitted its frail and shattered tabernacle, to be "carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom."

To indulge a strain of eulogy, which filial love would prompt, is needless. The obituary of Mr. Stephenson finds its place in the Minutes of Conference, 1854; and a few lines may be quoted from that official record :-" He was conscientious in the discharge of all his duties. He walked with God, and had the testimony that he pleased Him. He was a useful, practical, and pointed Preacher ; being anxious to approve himself to God. He was ever deeply concerned for the welfare of the flocks committed to his pastoral care, and so taught and laboured that he might present every man perfect in Christ Jesus."

:

679

THE DEATH OF SAINTS PRECIOUS TO GOD:

SUBSTANCE OF A SERMON PREACHED IN WILLIAM-STREET CHAPEL, WOOLWICH, JULY 13TH, 1856, ON OCCASION OF THE DEATH OF MARTHA, WIFE OF THE REV. JAMES SMITH:

BY THE REV. HUGH JONES.

"Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints." (Psalm cxvi. 15.)

God has His saints.-He has always had them. The faithful have sometimes been minished from among men, but their race has never been extinct. Some there have been, even in the most degenerate times, who feared God and wrought righteousness. And are we not warranted to believe that the number of such is greater to-day than at any former period?

They are God's saints, in a sense the most emphatic. He has Himself made them such. Their good is, confessedly, all Divine. "By grace" they have been "saved, through faith; and that not of" themselves : "it is the gift of God." They are "His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works." "According to His mercy He saved" them, "by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost." Having "come out from among the ungodly," and being "separate," they are received by Him who graciously says, "I will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be My sons and daughters." Toward them He cherishes a Father's love, and exercises a Father's liberality. They are His saints, inasmuch as they are "a people for His name," yielding to Him His largest revenue of praise. They are "a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar people," that they "should show forth the praises of Him who hath called" them "out of darkness into His marvellous light." The congregation of saints, perfected in character, and perfected in number, shall remain throughout eternity "a holy temple in the Lord," -a temple all radiant with His presence, and the noblest monument " unto the praise of the glory of His grace."

But God's saints are not exempted from the stroke of mortality. We are accustomed to speak of death as the "king of terrors;" and, apart from the views which Divine revelation opens, we could not speak otherwise. The teachings of the Bible pour light into the dark grave. The Psalmist joyously declares, "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints." The idea seems to be, that the eye of God is on His dying people, and He regards their exit with a profound interest. Two or three illustrative views may be adduced :

I. Their death is glorifying to Christ.

No language can express the complacency taken by the Father in the Saviour's honour. The plan of human redemption is altogether Divine in its conception. The pinion of the highest angel was too feeble to mount to such an altitude. May we not say, that this was from eternity the cherished idea of the uncreated Mind,-uppermost there while no star yet shone and no seraph adored? The actual gift of the Son, to dwell among us, and to "bear our sins in His own body on the tree," was a deed of love surpassing every other manifestation of grace. "God commendeth His love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." The obedience "unto death, even the death of the cross," was regarded with Divine and ineffable satisfaction: a satisfaction demonstrated by the exaltation of Jesus to the Father's own right hand, and His investiture with "all power in heaven and in earth.”

There must be, then, in the heart of God, an infinite delight in the Saviour's glory, and consequently in everything that ministers to that glory. Now Christ is indeed magnified in the death of saints. From the brink of the grave they look back upon their lives, and think of iniquities, countless and aggravated, which stained the days of their vanity. But not of these only: they dwell, too, upon the failures, the unfaithfulness, the imperfection, of their Christian life. And now do they feel, more deeply than ever, their need of that atonement in which they have been wont to trust. Its saving virtue stands out before their mental eye more clearly than ever. They confide in this alone for deliverance from "the wrath to come," and the gift of life everlasting. Their highest note is, "Victory through the blood of the Lamb!" Stephen, in the agonies of a martyrdom by stoning, kneeled down and prayed, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit:" an utterance this, not merely of desire, but of confidence in Him whom he had just seen "standing at the right hand of God," and whom he regarded as having been exalted "to give repentance and remission of sins," and the "eternal salvation" following in their train. "Paul the aged" writes to Timothy, "I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day." Wesley, dying, exclaimed, "There is no way into the holiest, but by the blood of Jesus." And again, after inquiring for the text, "Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, that ye through His poverty might be rich," -" That is the foundation-the only foundation: there is no other." -When friends spoke to the saintly Rutherford, in his last moments, about his zeal and faithfulness in God's service, he said, "I disclaim it all: the porch I would be in at, is redemption and forgiveness of sins through Christ's blood." Richard Winter Hamilton whispered, in his last hours, "Pardon, peace, acceptance-Christ the Depositary of it all." John Hunt, of Feejee memory, when asked in dying if he had a bright prospect before him, auswered, "I see nothing but Jesus."

Similar is the experience of all God's saints. More or less vigorously, they all thus confide in the precious atonement of Christ. They all build on this one foundation. They all derive from Christ peace in dying, strong consolation, or even rapturous joy.

II. The death of saints signally exhibits the power of Divine grace. Robert Hall speaks with impressiveness of truth, in the person of a Christian anticipating the final scene : - " I have been carried through many trials; I have surmounted many difficulties; I have triumphed over many powerful temptations: but the dying part remains. I have still a scene to pass through, in which I must be left alone; no friendly hand to guide or support me. I must engage singly with an enemy whom all men dread, and whose power no man comprehends, for it is invisible. He smites with an unseen hand. And, though millions have passed through the conflict, not one has returned to tell the secrets of his power, and to unveil his territory, which, after so many ages, remains, as to us, 'a land of darkness, as darkness itself." " Think of the separation of soul and body, hitherto "linked more close than wedded pair." The stroke which breaks the strong link is one from which humanity recoils. Think, too, of the dissolving of this material fabric, so fearfully and wonderfully made; the perishing of its beauty, the prostration of its strength, and its consignment to "corruption, earth, and worms." Think of the agonies of disease, which commonly precede death, and the pangs of the great change itself. Students of religious biography will call up the instances of Howe, Hall, Watson, and others. Add to this the separation of endeared friends,-hearts bleeding, breaking, as the ruthless hand snaps the fondest ties of earth. How loudly do these circumstances call for Divine succour and strength! But think, again, of that which is the most serious aspect of death; namely, that it ushers the soul, our proper self, into the presence of the "most worthy Judge eternal." The unclothed spirit "stands in its lot." It awaits the final, public judgment; but its character and doom are already and for ever fixed.

The dying hour needs dying grace. And what is needed is supplied. Myriads have testified, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me." Grace triumphs over nature; nerves the believer to meet with resignation, nay, with thankfulness, the inevitable hour; pours the healing oil into the lacerated heart; disarms the last enemy of his dart; strengthens the eye of faith to look through the gates into the city, and gaze with clearer vision than before on the forms of beauty that move in that world of joy; opens the mental ear to catch richer and sweeter music from the skies; draws the heart finally from earth, and kindles hopes more rapturous as the fruition is the nearer. Hence the triumphant songs: “I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God." "O grave, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting?" "Thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory!"

See such grace exemplified in the case of Janeway. "I tell you," said this saint of God, to surrounding friends, "I do so long to be with Christ, that I could be content to be cut in pieces, and to be

« AnteriorContinuar »