Part 3
HANNAH IRWIN, _Deptford_. Wife of Thomas Irwin. 55 2mo. 9 1850
JOHN CLARK ISAAC, _Studminster_, _Newton_, _Marnhull_. 67 2mo. 12 1850
ELIZABETH PIM JACOB, _Newlands_, _Dublin_. Daughter of the late Joseph Jacob. 17 10mo. 30 1849
ELIZABETH JACOBS, _Folkstone_. Widow of Jacob Jacobs. 76 6mo. 9 1850
CAROLINE JACOBS, _Maidstone_. Daughter of Jacob and Lydia Jacobs. 6 8mo. 15 1850
MARY ANN JEFFERIES, _Melksham_. Daughter of Thomas and Martha Jefferies. 38 12mo. 14 1849
EMMA JEFFREY, _Folkstone_. Daughter of the late John and Eliza Jeffrey. 11 10mo. 6 1849
SARAH JEPHCOTT, _Coventry_. Wife of Enoch Jephcott. 72 3mo. 26 1850
SAMUEL JONES, _Hoxton_. 39 5mo. 10 1850
SARAH JONES, _Hereford_. Daughter of Joseph Jones. 22 7mo. 17 1850
JUDITH KING, _Castle Donington_. 86 8mo. 11 1850
JOHN LESLIE, _Wells_, _Norfolk_. 66 10mo. 14 1849
CHARLES LIDBETTER, _Croydon_. Son of Martin and Elizabeth Lidbetter. 2 2mo. 9 1850
JOHN LITTLE, _Alston_. 78 3mo. 27 1850
RICHARD LYNES, _Chelsea_. 85 1mo. 3 1850
WILLIAM LYTHALL, _Baddesley_, _Warwickshire_. 68 3mo. 13 1850
ANN MALCOMSON, _Milton_, _Ireland_. Widow of Thomas Malcomson. 79 7mo. 2 1850
WILLIAM MALLY, _Preston_. 77 7mo. 23 1850
JOSEPH MARRIAGE, _Chelmsford_. 76 12mo. 8 1849
WILLIAM MARSH, _Ashton_, _Lancashire_. 50 10mo. 1 1849
REBECCA MARSH, _Dorking_. Wife of William Marsh. 49 10mo. 27 1849
ALFRED MARSH, _Luton_. Son of Robert and Maria Marsh. 4 8mo. 14 1850
DAVID MARSHALL, _Sheffield_. 61 12mo. 9 1849
JANE MASON, _Leeds_. Wife of George Mason. 45 10mo. 9 1849
MARY MILES, _Peckham_. Wife of Edward Miles. 36 4mo. 1 1850
SUSANNA MOORE, _Waterford_. 80 8mo. 12 1850
PRISCILLA NASH, _London_. Daughter of William and Rebecca Nash. 17 3mo. 13 1850
EDWARD PHILIP NASH, _Holt_, _Norfolk_. Son of Thomas W. and Sarah Nash. 2 4mo. 1 1850
HANNAH NEALE, _Mountmelick_. Daughter of William Neale. 33 3mo. 29 1850
Hannah Neale had an extensive circle of acquaintance, by whom she was much beloved and esteemed, as being one of a very innocent and blameless life. Some of the circumstances relating to her, are of a very affecting and interesting character, and speak loudly the uncertainty of all earthly prospects. In the summer of last year, she entered into an engagement of marriage with a friend residing in England. Having considered the subject with earnest and sincere desires to act in accordance with best wisdom, she looked forward to the completion of the prospect with a pleasing and hopeful confidence, yet even at an early period of the engagement, there was something that seemed to whisper to her, the uncertainty of its completion.
At this time she appeared in her usual health and full of spirits; but whilst on a visit to her aunt, at Kingstown, her health became affected, and from this time, symptoms exhibited themselves, which baffled all medical skill. She was still, however, hopeful respecting her own recovery, and very often expressed in her correspondence, how much she was pained by the thought of being the cause of so much anxiety to others,--that her own sufferings were trifling, and the comforts surrounding her so numerous, she felt that she had every thing to be thankful for. It was, however, evident to those around her, that there was little ground for hope, and a dear friend intimated to her, that her medical advisers considered her end might possibly be very near. This intelligence greatly startled her, but she afterward expressed, how thankful she felt that she had been honestly apprized of her danger.
The solemn impression then made on her mind, never left her, and her constant desire was, that she might, through divine mercy, be made meet for the kingdom of heaven, repeating emphatically, "I have much to do."
She often expressed her great sorrow, that she had not yielded to the serious impressions with which she had been favoured, saving, "They were soon scattered;" and regretted much that she had not lived a more devoted life. She felt herself to be a great sinner, needing a Saviour's gracious pardon; and for a long time feared she never should obtain that forgiveness, she so earnestly longed for. But though her faith was feeble, she endeavoured to lay hold of encouragement from the mercy extended to the Prodigal Son, and to the Thief upon the cross, hoping that the same mercy might be extended to herself; but for a long time, her poor tossed and tried mind "could find nothing to lean upon." She remarked, she could not feel that she had sinned against her fellow-creatures, but that she could adopt the words of the Psalmist: "Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned," saying, "I feel that I have nothing to build upon, and that I want every thing; I am not prepared to die, I want all my sins to be forgiven; I hope I shall not be taken till the work be fully accomplished." The whole of the 51st Psalm, she said, seemed to suit her case, and with solemnity repeated, "'Create in me a clean heart, oh God! and renew a right spirit within me.' If I am saved, it will indeed be at the eleventh hour, I have been such a sinner."
Thus did the Spirit of Truth search all things, and bring this beloved friend sensibly to feel, as she weightily expressed, "that at such a solemn hour, it will not do to build upon having led a spotless and innocent life, something more is then wanted to lean upon." She often observed, how well it was for those who had given up their hearts to serve their Saviour in the time of health,--that had she done so, she should not now, in the hour of trial, have had to feel such deep sorrow of heart,--that she could only hope for mercy and forgiveness, adding, "If I perish, let it be at Thy footstool."
As her bodily weakness increased, she remarked, "I often feel unable to read, or even to think; but I can _cling_; this is about as much as I am able to do."
Though this beloved friend took these low views of her own state, her company was deeply instructive and edifying to those around her, and a heavenly sweetness marked her deportment. Her heart was often filled with gratitude to her heavenly Father for the extension of his love and mercy, and she remarked many times, "I have indeed been mercifully dealt with."
The dear sufferer rapidly declined; yet her mind continued bright, and she was preserved in a patient, waiting state, fully conscious of the approach of death, she queried how long it was thought likely she might live? praying,--"Oh! dear Saviour, may it please thee not to take me till the work be fully accomplished." She often said, "It is a solemn thing to die;" and the evening preceding her death, when her friends were watching around her, she remarked that, believing her end was near, "It felt very, very solemn to her." At this deeply interesting season, He who is indeed Love, condescended in great mercy to draw near, so that she seemed lifted above terrestrial things, and permitted a foretaste of those joys, of which we consolingly believe, she now fully participates. Under this precious influence, her countenance beamed with sweetness, and she emphatically repeated many times,--"Divine compassion! mighty love!" and raising her hand, exclaimed, "Oh such love!--such love!--and to me such a sinner; is it not marvellous?" adding, "a weary burdened soul, oh Lord, am I, but the blood of Jesus can wash the guilty sinner clean.--Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.--Oh how wonderful! hard things have been made easy, and bitter things sweet."
She remarked that, at such a solemn hour, the world had no relish, "oh no!" she said, "it is not worth a thought:
'The world recedes, it disappears, Heaven opens on my eyes, my ears.'"
To a young friend whom she tenderly loved, she said, "Oh if we should all meet in heaven, will it not be delightful? oh! dear ---, we must all come to this, and nothing will do for any of us but the blood of the Lamb."
She continued for some time addressing those around her in this strain; and to the question of her brother, whether she was happy? she replied, "Yes, indeed, I am happy." Thus her dying lips seemed to testify, that she was mercifully brought to see the salvation of God, and that he is able to save to the uttermost all those who come unto him, through faith in Christ Jesus our Lord.
HENRY NEILD, _Over Whitley_, _Cheshire_. An Elder. 59 10mo. 4 1849
In the removal of this beloved friend, we have another instance of the uncertainty of time, and another call to prepare for the life to come. Henry Neild left home on the 12th of 9th month, 1849, for the purpose of attending his Monthly and Quarterly Meetings, at Nantwich; but he was taken ill in the former meeting, and though relieved by medical aid, it failed to remove disease, which continued daily to waste his frame, and in little more than three weeks terminated his earthly pilgrimage; and we thankfully believe, through redeeming mercy, translated the immortal spirit to "an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away."
He had long been a very useful and willing helper in the small Quarterly Meeting, of which he was a member; and a true sympathizer with the afflicted, taking heed to the apostolic injunction, "Bear ye one anothers burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ." Deep and fervent were his desires for the welfare of our Society, for the maintenance of all our religious testimonies, and that its members might be redeemed from the influence and spirit of the world.
In the early part of his illness, he remarked that "it was surprising to himself, how entirely he could leave all earthly things; he had desired to leave all to Him who doeth all things well; and to commit himself into the hands of his dear Saviour."
At another time, he said, "I am very gently and mercifully dealt with, I feel that I am a poor unfaithful creature, but I consider it a favour to be made sensible of this, for it is only of divine mercy that we can rightly feel our need." Thus kept in humble reliance upon the mercy of God, in Christ Jesus his Saviour, he was permitted to repose on that "Anchor to the soul which is sure and steadfast," and to cast all his care upon our compassionate and ever present Redeemer.
He died at Nantwich, at the house of Croudson Tunstall, whose own death took place little more than a month afterwards.
WILLIAM NEWSOM, _Limerick_. 62 6mo. 18 1850
In affixing a few lines to this name, the desire is simply to arrest the attention of any reader, who may be too closely engaged in temporal things; giving their strength to that which cannot profit, and not sufficiently pondering the passing nature of all terrestrial things.
William Newsom had been extensively engaged in commerce through great part of his life, and there was reason to fear he was unduly absorbed by its cares and allurements: for the last year or more, he appeared to be becoming more sensible that disappointment was stamped upon his pursuits; his bodily health heretofore unbroken, began also to decline, and it was comfortingly believed by his friends, that this and other revolving circumstances, were tending to turn the energies of his mind from perishable, to imperishable objects. A few months before his decease, it became still more evident, that the hand of his heavenly Father was laid upon him in mercy; and on one occasion, he remarked, "that he saw nothing in the world worth living for, it abounded in trouble and disappointment, all outward things were stained in his eyes, there was nothing but religion that could be of any avail for any of us; and it mattered not when we were taken--young, old, or middle aged--if we were but ready, that was the great point!" His experience, however, during the last few days of his life shewed, that although the ground might have been prepared, the work was by no means effected; deep and sore conflict was then his portion, and oh! with what fervency did he call upon his Saviour, beseeching him in his mercy to be pleased to look down upon his poor unworthy creature, for he alone could help in that awful hour. Once he exclaimed, "what could all the world do for me now?" His wife, under great exercise of spirit, replied, "Nothing! the best, when laid upon such a bed as thou art, have nothing to look to or depend upon, but the mercy of the Saviour;" the poor sufferer earnestly pleaded that that mercy might be extended to him, remarking, "He has all power in heaven and in earth." He then fervently prayed that the Lord would save his never dying soul. It is believed, that whilst his many sins of omission and commission were brought vividly before his view, by the unflattering witness, he was made very fully sensible that the great work of salvation rests between the soul of man and his Creator, and that "no man can redeem his brother, or give to God a ransom for him." Through the night, he was mostly engaged in prayer, with uplifted hands invoking for mercy and forgiveness.
Some time before his death, the great conflict of mind he had been under, appeared to subside, and to be succeeded by a sweet calm, and he intimated to his wife, that he felt comfortable and satisfied. Till within half an hour of the close, prayer continued flowing from his lips, the last audible sounds being an appeal to the Lord; and but a few minutes before he ceased to breathe, a conscious look at his dear wife, seemed to say, "all is peace;" and it was granted to her exercised spirit to believe, that the unshackled soul when released, was received into a mansion of rest, through the mercy and merits of his Lord and Saviour. In reference to that impressive hour this dear relative writes,--"Oh! how many times that solemn night, did I long that all the world could feel the great necessity, whilst in health and strength, so to live, as to be prepared for that awful hour, which sooner or later must come upon us all; it is a very dangerous thing to put off the work of the soul's salvation to a deathbed, or to depend upon mercy being extended as at the eleventh hour, for it may not then be found." Let us then be concerned to work whilst it is called to-day, and be ready to meet the awful summons,--"Steward give up thy stewardship, for thou mayest be no longer steward."
SUSANNAH NICKALLS, _Ashford_, _Folkstone_. Wife of Thomas Nickalls. 65 6mo. 1 1850
MARY NICHOLSON, _Liverpool_. 78 12mo. 14 1849
MARY OSTLE, _Newtown_, _Beckfoot_, _Cumberland_. Widow of Thomas Ostle. 83 12mo. 18 1849
HANNAH PALMER, _Radway_. Widow of William Palmer. 71 10mo. 17 1849
JOHN PERCY, _Ballinagore_, _Ireland_. Son of John and Anna Perry. 3 2mo. 1 1850
RICHARD PATCHING, _Brighton_. 70 2mo. 15 1850
RACHEL PATTINSON, _Felling, near Newcastle-on-Tyne_. Widow of Thomas Pattinson. 59 1mo. 5 1850
SOPHIA GULIELMA PAYNE, _Lambeth Walk_, _Surrey_. Daughter of James and Ann Payne. 1 6mo. 7 1850
ELIZABETH PEARSON, _Preston_. Daughter of Daniel and Ann Pearson. 1 7mo. 6 1850
JOHN PEGLER, _Mangersbury_, _near Stow_, _Warwickshire_. 74 7mo. 6 1850
ISABELLA PEILE, _Carlisle_. Wife of Thomas Peile. 45 8mo. 1 1850
FRANCIS EDWARD PENNEY, _Dorking_. Died at Brighton. Son of the late Richard Penney. 22 7mo. 27 1850
ELIZABETH HALL PICKARD, _Bushcliffe House_, _Wakefield_. Wife of David Pickard. 35 10mo. 30 1849
HARTAS PICKARD, _Bushcliffe House_, _Wakefield_. Son of David and Elizabeth H. Pickard. 1 11mo. 26 1849
ELIZABETH PIERSON, _Dublin_. Daughter of Joseph Pierson. 25 2mo. 3 1850
SARAH LYDIA N. PIKE, _Derryvale_. 6 7mo. 27 1850
HANNAH LECKY PIKE, _Derryvale_. Children of the late James Nicholson and Sarah Pike. 3 9mo. 7 1850
ELIZABETH PIM, _Richmond Hill_, _Dublin_. An Elder. Widow of Jonathan Pim. 63 2mo. 22 1850
EMILY PIM, _Mountmelick_. 4 4mo. 5 1850
FREDERICK PIM, _Mountmelick_. Children of Samuel and Susanna Pim. 1 7mo. 31 1850
ELIZABETH PLUMLEY, _Tottenham_. 72 1mo. 10 1850
SARAH PRESTON, _Earith_, _Hunts_. An Elder. Widow of Samuel Preston. 79 4mo. 22 1850
JOHN PRICHARD, _Leominster_. 86 5mo. 24 1850
ESTHER PRIDEAUX, _Plymouth_. Widow of Philip C. Prideaux. 71 1mo. 8 1850
_Jane Prideaux_, _Kingsbridge_.
The decease of this friend is recorded in the Annual Monitor of last year. We have since been furnished with the following notice of her.
Our beloved friend, Jane Prideaux, died the 26th of the Second month, 1849, aged 87 years: for many years before her decease, she filled very acceptably the station of Elder, and therein approved herself a lowly follower of her Lord and Master. Very precious to her surviving friends, is the remembrance of her innocent, circumspect walk, holding out as it does in an impressive manner, the invitation, "Follow me as I have followed Christ." During the latter years of her lengthened life, the fruits of her faith became increasingly prominent, and she was endeared to her friends and neighbours around her in no common degree. But it was during the last two months of her life, when under great bodily suffering, that her tongue was more fully set at liberty to declare the lovingkindness of the Lord, who in this season of trial was graciously pleased to lift up the light of his countenance upon her, and to grant a full evidence of acceptance with himself, enabling her to rejoice in the assurance that when her earthly house of this tabernacle should be dissolved, there would be granted to her "a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens."
Her patient, cheerful endurance of bodily pain was striking and instructive; and in some seasons of closest conflict, her faith was strong, and her acknowledgment of the supporting power of God, full and fervent. She often said, the Lord was able to save and to deliver to the uttermost, and would deliver _her_, when patience had had its perfect work. Very impressive were her short petitions to the Father of mercies, for his support and deliverance, accompanied as they constantly were with the addition, "if consistent with thy will." She remarked, "I am in the hands of an unerring Creator, He _cannot_ err. We must not look to ourselves, but to our Saviour, who loved us and gave himself for us--even for _me_, the most unworthy of his creatures. He healeth all my diseases, and I have many, but my mercies outweigh them all." Love and interest for her friends seemed often to dwell in her heart beyond the power of expression. Speaking of those who were members of the meeting to which she belonged, she sent messages to each, and made appropriate remarks respecting them individually, dwelling with especial comfort on the remembrance of those among them who were bearing the burden of the day, and labouring to promote their great Master's cause. She afterwards said, whilst tears of tenderness flowed, "Oh! how many comfortable meetings I have had in that little meeting-house, how have I loved to go and sit there! It was not a little illness that kept me away: and how has it rejoiced my heart to see individuals come in, who have been as the anointed and sent!" On being told one morning that Friends were going to meeting, she said, "May they know the Sun of righteousness to arise as with healing in his wings;" emphatically adding, "I think they will."
At another time she sent messages of love to many of the members of her Monthly Meeting, adding with an expression of feeling, to which those around could not be insensible. "But I cannot name all; my love is universal; God is love."
One night, when in great pain, she acknowledged in grateful terms, the kindness of her attendants, and her belief that a blessing with a full recompense would be given them; and addressing one of them, she continued, "I love thee tenderly, and feel thee near in the best life--in the truth that is blessed for ever." Afterwards, she broke forth with an audible voice thus: "Bless the Lord, oh my soul! and praise him for all his benefits. What can I do! how shall I praise him enough!" And then, as with melody of soul, she added,--
"Heavenly blessings without number, Gently falling on my head."
After taking an affectionate farewell of those around her, and addressing them in an instructive and encouraging manner, she added, "I can heartily say, that death is robbed of its sting, and the grave of its victory. Thanks be unto God who giveth the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." And again, "Praise and magnify the Lord! Oh if I could sing, I would sing his praise!"
To some beloved relatives, from a distance, who came to see her, she testified of her faith, hope, and confidence,--acknowledged, that although frail in body, she was strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might; and expressed her desire, that they might all meet where partings are not known, adding, "goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life; and there is a promise for the poor in spirit that will be fulfilled, 'When the poor and needy seek water and there is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst, I the Lord will hear them, I the God of Israel will not forsake them.'"
She was permitted to pass quietly away without any apparent pain, and is now, we reverently and thankfully believe, an inhabitant of that city "which hath no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it; for the glory of God doth lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof."
DAVID PRIESTMAN, _Gorton_, _Manchester_. Son of Henry and Mary Priestman. 3 8mo. 1 1850
RACHEL PROUD, _Scarborough_. A Minister. 77 5mo. 4 1850
WILLIAM PUCKRIN, _near Whitby_. 87 11mo. 27 1849
ANN PUGH, _Tyddyn-y-gareg_, _North Wales_. 90 6mo. 24 1850
ANN PUMPHREY, _Worcester_. 84 4mo. 22 1850
SARAH RACEY, _Norwich_. Widow of Thomas Racey. 72 11mo. 25 1850
JAMES RANSOME, _Rushmere_, _Ipswich_. 67 11mo. 22 1849
ANNE RAWLINSON, _Newton-in-Cartmel_. 45 12mo. 12 1849
DEBORAH REYNOLDS, _Rochester_. 76 5mo. 4 1850
SARAH REYNOLDS, _Liverpool_. 68 5mo. 19 1850
SUSANNA REYNOLDS, _Oldswenford_, _Stourbridge_. Wife of John Reynolds. 45 12mo. 28 1849
WILLIAM RICHARDS, _Wellington_. 73 12mo. 19 1849
JOSIAH RICHARDSON, _Peckham_. 84 1mo. 8 1850
HELENA RICHARDSON, _Belfast_. Wife of John G. Richardson. 30 12mo. 7 1849
HANNAH RICKERBY, _Burgh_, _near Carlisle_. 50 7mo. 13 1850
JOSEPH ROBINSON, _Stoke Newington Road_, _London_. 72 7mo. 6 1850
WILLIAM ROBINSON, _Bellevile_, _near Dublin_. 62 10mo. 26 1849
FREDERICK ROBINSON, _Dublin_. Son of Samuel S. and Charlotte Robinson. 16 12mo. 16 1849
MARY ROBINSON, _Fleetwood_. Widow of Isaac Robinson. 77 2mo. 8 1850
JANE ROBINSON, _Whinfell Hall_, _Pardshaw_. Wife of Wilson Robinson. 84 7mo. 15 1850
REBECCA ROBINSON, _Tottenham_. Wife of James Robinson. 56 10mo. 11 1849
ANNE ROBSON, _Sunderland_. Wife of Thomas Robson. 65 3mo. 20 1850
HENRY ROBSON, _Huddersfield_. Son of Thomas Robson. 51 8mo. 12 1850
JOSEPH RUSSELL, _Cork_. 61 1mo. 14 1850
JAMES SANSOM, _Tideford_. An Elder. 73 10mo. 10 1849
MARIA SCALES, _Nottingham_. Daughter of Lydia Scales. 32 4mo. 16 1850
It often pleases our heavenly Father to carry forward the work of divine grace, in the hearts of his children, by means, and through dispensations, altogether unfathomable to the finite comprehension of men; but the humble believer, looking beyond the changing rugged path of this life, with filial love and confidence can repose on the mercy and goodness of the Lord, and believingly apply the language of our Saviour, "What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter."
In very early life, the subject of the present brief notice was made sensible of the contriting influence of divine grace on her heart, so that many of her earliest recollections were fraught with love to her Saviour.