Chapter II: Part 2

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.