Part 2
Blessed be God for the gospel, and for its power and influence upon our hearts. This is the sweet evidence of our eternal election of God, for our gospel came not unto you in word only, but in power; in the Holy Ghost, and in much assurance. It is in this way, even a babe in Christ has stilled the enemy and the avenger. The people of the Most High are called babes; and little children, being born again, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, but of God—created anew in Christ Jesus, unto good works, which God hath before ordained, that we should walk in them. This new birth is produced by the almighty power of God, the holy making Spirit. It is an evidence of everlasting love, and of the soul’s interest in the blood and righteousness of Christ; and none have any right to consider themselves in Christ, who are strangers to the new birth. It is the gracious indwelling of the holy Spirit in his divine influences—forming a new man of grace—a new heart—a right spirit, infusing every holy principle, in conformity to the image, of Christ. When this work is begun in most of God’s children, it is hard to tell, but some blessed effects of it may be clearly seen. Such souls, may be long under the terror of the law, the bondage of their spirit, the fears of death, the dread of judgment, eternity and hell, yet the Lord hears their groans, sees their oppressions, tears, and fears, and will in due time, bring them out of prison. Some, indeed, are led on more smoothly, but none are left ignorant of their lost state by nature, their condemnation by the law, and the value of Christ, as the atonement and righteousness of his people. Such babes are humble, simple, sincere, and teachable; they desire the breast of consolation, from heart-felt misery; they desire the sincere milk of the word, not only the word, but the _milk_ of it, that they may grow thereby into a deeper knowledge of Christ, till their faith is grown up to full assurance, and their hope big with expectations; till a sense of divine love casts out all doubts and fears, which sadly torment their minds, and till they know the whole armour of God; and surely there can be no actual enjoyment with Christ, or entering into truth, or the privileges of the gospel, or into eternal glory, till this new birth takes place. There can be neither _seeing_ nor _entering_ the kingdom; there may be a superficial knowledge, and plenty of talk about truth; but it is a cordial reception of it in the heart, and digesting it in the mind, that will ever produce any good effect, either in the soul, or in the conversation. And except we become as little children, we can in no wise enter the kingdom; but having been blessed with this divine change in the heart, confession is to be made to the glory of God. This is the ordinance of Heaven: there is to be an acknowledgement of the truth, a declaration of what God has done for us to the church, to one another; and when prudent opportunity offers, before the world, by words, and by facts, open and visible, sincere and hearty, likewise in prayer; and praise, when the Lord is pleased to give us strength so to do, that others may be led to see that there is a reality in religion, and may be blessed with the strength of grace to seek the Lord, and glorify God in the day of their visitation: in so doing, you still the enemy, and by a God-glorifying conduct, put to silence the ignorance of foolish men, the enemies of God and truth. And where the conscience is made tender, every thing that is contrary to this, is a source of inconceivable grief. These babes are at times, also enabled to silence Satan himself, with all the accusations of a distressed and burdened conscience, when the atonement, obedience, love, person, offices and promises, invitations and faithfulness of the dear Redeemer is powerfully brought into the mind, by the holy Spirit, and strength given to baffle the enemy, with his satanic suggestions, as a young man did lately, upon his death bed, depending upon, and pleading the great work of Christ, for his acceptance with God, just going into eternity. The enemy plagued him with this question continually: ’Tis true Christ died for sinners! but how do you know he died for you? The young man had strength given him to answer the enemy as fast as he plagued him! But, Satan, how do you know he did not? Thus he gained the victory over the enemy, and died in sweet confidence. Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory, for out of the mouths of such babes he has ordained his own glory. It is also evident, that God is glorified by the displays of the riches, power, and freeness of grace, in the salvation of children. This must be favor indeed, as such can perform no act of demotion to recommend them to God! nor can their innocence do it, as they are conceived in sin, born, or shapen in iniquity, under the imputation of the guilt of Adam, and with the seeds of every sin in them that can be committed in this world, though guilty of no actual transgression, yet by nature they are sinners, destitute of the image of God, and under guilt. How great that grace which chose them—how infinitely dear that blood which redeemed them—and how condescending that holy Spirit that takes possession of them before their little souls leave their bodies: they are to be considered, passively, the capable subjects of converting grace—and who can tell what passes on the soul of a departing infant, under the operations of the spirit of God? Millions of infants are, doubtless, before the throne of God, and the Lamb, praising, adoring, and blessing that mercy that saved them so early, not on account of their natural purity, nor their religious descent—not because their parents were pious persons, for this can make no difference—nor because they were superstitiously baptized, as it is erroneously called, but because God has set his love upon them—because they are interested in the covenant of grace—because the Redeemer has died for them—his righteousness is imputed to them—and because the holy Spirit takes possession of their hearts—sanctifies them in a moment—and because God has ordained the glory of himself, in the everlasting salvation and happiness of those who are not able to save themselves. I acknowledge the salvation of all infants has been a subject of dispute, amongst many, and Satan has taken the advantage to distress many a parent upon the subject. But secret things belong to the Lord, our God, the things that are revealed belong to us. Here we want grace to rest, yet I am bold to affirm, that we have no one solid proof of the everlasting destruction of an infant. It is no where positively _asserted_ nor yet _implied_. I am now speaking of babes. Millions have been destroyed in public calamities, and died a corporeal death, but not punished with an everlasting death; nor can we find any infants amongst those of whom it is affirmed, that they suffer the vengeance of eternal fire. It was David’s consolation that his child was saved, though born under adulterous circumstances. I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me. This does not refer to the grave, for there could be but little pleasure in that thought, but to eternal rest. The pious Shunamite woman said of the death of her son, It is well. And the Lord promised that that son of Jereboam should go to his grave, because in that child there was found some good thing toward the Lord God of Israel. Thousands of dear children were massacred by order of Herod, with an intent to murder the Redeemer. These dear children were the first martyrs for Christ, and the Lord assures us of their salvation, (Jeremiah xxxi, 15, 16, 17.) to which I refer you. The _border_ there spoken of, is most undoubtedly the millennium, the heavenly country, where these precious stones would adorn the crown of the Redeemer, and be everlasting monuments of the wonders of his grace. These dear children will to eternity, acknowledge how infinitely indebted they are to the adorable trinity in unity, for so great a salvation.
And now they range the heavenly plains, And sing his love in melting strains; Or, overwhelm’d with rapture sweet, Sink down adoring at his feet.
I come now to speak of the closing scene of my much-loved son. On this subject I want much fortitude and power from on high, to sustain my deeply affected heart. None but God knows the strange mixture of my feelings, grief and gratitude, sorrow and wonder. I have not room here to enlarge on the subject of nature and affection, and the feelings these ties inspire in the loss of one so dear to my heart. Cruel memory recals to mind a thousand endearments, in such departed worth, but I fall at the footstool of divine mercy, and bless the God of all grace, that I am not sorrowing as one without hope. Many whom I am now addressing, knew him well, and all who knew him loved him. He was beloved of his God—blest from infancy with peculiar powers, which no doubt would have shown brightly in life, had he been spared. But though the subject of deep affliction, yet grace shone in his mind, and its radiance was sweetly emitted to an eminent manner, as his afflictions abounded. He was the last son of his dear mother, who is in glory; and being favored at his birth with a peculiar answer to prayer, I adopted the method of ancient believers, on extraordinary occasions, and called him Samuel, _heard of God_! and so he proved to be. About six years ago, he broke his leg, which afterwards produced great weakness through the fright; the pain, and long confinement. This had a serious effect upon his whole mass of blood, which afterwards shewed itself in several abscesses. These baffled all the skill of medicine, and though well attended by medical persons, and most tenderly and carefully nursed, and watched by day and by night, yet God had determined to bring him to glory, at nearly twelve years of age, nor can I wish him back again.
To be with dire afflictions tost and tore, The suffering little boy he was before!
But during the last months he was with his kind affectionate, attentive Aunt and Uncle, who have been long in the ways of God, and have had a most clear and blessed experience of grace and truth themselves, they were often highly delighted to see the work of grace so eminently displayed in their dear little suffering nephew. Many precious things he said to me, but as a father, perhaps it might be attributed to weakness, or an inordinate affection for a son, if I made any remarks. ’Tis however very pleasing to me that his dear Aunt was enabled to seize a few opportunities, secretly, to pen down some of those words which fell from him at times. A few only, can be asserted here, but which plainly indicates the work of grace upon his heart, by the confession of his lips, and sweetly proving, that out of the mouth of this dear child God had ordained his own glory.
The contents of the following letter, sent to me by his Aunt, I beg leave also to insert, without a single comment of my own.
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DEAR BROTHER,
Believing you would be desirous of knowing the dealings of the Lord with your dear child, I have endeavored to preserve a small part of what fell from his lips during the last weeks of his afflicted life. I say a small part, because the whole, had it not been for the necessary and close attention to his person, would have swelled a volume.
Previous to the time when he was confined to his bed, which was the latter end of December, when I had an opportunity to set with him, he would often talk on divine subjects, and appeared deeply interested in the things that pertained to his own salvation. He mentioned several sermons he had heard Dr. Andrews, of Walworth, preach, but particularly one, from, Oh my Dove, that art in the cleft of the rock. He ran through the several ideas that was advanced, with great correctness and interest. At another time when we were conversing about eternal things, he said, Aunt, I should not be afraid to die, if I was sure I had an interest in Christ! You know it is possible to be deceived, and many people are. I never said so much to any one as I have to you. I talked to my dear father, and he answered me much the same as you have.
About the middle of February, when helping him out of bed, very helpless, and in great pain, he said, Aunt, I seem to have a hope that I shall be saved! Do you not think that answer to prayer is some evidence? and I am sure that many of my poor simply prayers have been answered.
February 26.—He held a truly interesting conversation with his Uncle, expressing the strongest desire to know if he was truly drawn to Christ! On the evidences being given to him, he appeared much refreshed, and said, It may be when I am nearer to death that the Lord may give me a full assurance. He often said how good the Lord is; I have more to be thankful for than to complain of! Once he said, Well Aunt, who can tell but the Lord may cure me? and if he does not, he will do a great deal better for me!—But for want of time, I must omit many very blessed things, and relate what more particularly transpired towards the close. The few last days in February, and the first and second of March, he was in great pain, and there was an evident alteration for the worst. In the night of the second of March, he said, Oh! affliction! affliction! My poor body is quite worn out! Oh! I wish for more patience and resignation. Aunt, I had rather lay here, with all my pains, than be running about the streets, in health, like many boys I know, cursing and swearing, and sinning against God. In the same night, he said, Oh! I hope we shall meet in Heaven! On my expressing the same hope, he cried out, Ah! but I want more than hope! I want assurance! Oh! I hope the Lord will sanctify this affliction.
Lord’s day, March the third.—He asked me to read. After reading the word, and some hymns, he smiled, and said, How precious that is! I wish you had nothing else to do but to talk and read to me. In the evening of that day, he was in great pain. From twelve at night till three in the morning, his tongue was like the pen of a ready-writer. I said to him, My dear, have you long had serious thoughts about your soul? He answered, No, Aunt, not any thing particularly, till within a twelvemonth. How was it at the beginning with you? Why, I was very much alarmed for fear I should go to hell! I used to have such dark horror on my mind as I cannot describe! I used to cry till I fell asleep, and then I used to dream it was the day of judgment, and wake very much terrified! I dreamt this a great many times. I cannot tell you what I went through, with the dark horror at day, and the terrifying dreams at night. Did you not feel at times, hopes springing up, that the Lord would save you, through Christ Jesus? Yes, very often, when I have been hearing my father, and Dr. Andrews, but afterwards I have been much distressed, for fear they were not right hopes. I never talked about what I felt. I thought people might think as I was a child that I heard a great deal about religion, it was what I had picked up—then added, with a strong voice and great satisfaction, But I know that what I picked up _then_, does me good _now_! Aunt, the last time I sung that hymn, Ah! I shall soon be dying, I never sung so in my life! I sung and cried! I sung as if I had another voice besides my own—I was so full of joy.—I spoke to Him of the great love of God, in calling him to the knowledge of himself, and bringing him to Jesus, for life and salvation. He replied, Oh! it is a great love. I keep you awake, but my heart is so full that I cannot help talking. This is but a small part of what passed on that, to me, memorable night.
March the 4th.—A young man was saying, when he was about thirteen years of age, he was so ill that used to pray to die. Samuel remarked after he was gone, That he did not know what death was, nor what it was to have a hell in his heart, or else he would not talk so.—Aunt, what a very precious hymn that is: All the fitness he requireth, is to feel your need of Him.—Oh! I hope I shall be able to say, as dear Mrs. Lawson said, when near death, I know in whom I have believed.—I hope my father will not grieve when I die—why should he? He often said, O that my warfare was ended.
March the 5th.—Very comfortable all day. About eleven at night, he suffered much. He said, Oh! I am quite worn out! I hope I shall not be long. It seems as if I could leave all now—Aunt, I can leave you! I hope I shall not suffer much at last—do you think I shall? I do not think you will my dear, but in all your sufferings the Lord will support you; you are not without sweet support now, are you? Oh, no! I am greatly supported, What a mercy it is to have promises to rest on. Oh! I want to go—not so much to get rid of suffering, as to see Jesus, which is better. Adding, Aunt, this is a comfort to me, you will not be long after me, nor uncle neither.—Once, when holding him up in my arms, he feared I should let him fall and cried out, Hold me up, hold me up! After a short pause, in a very expressive manner, said, Hold thou me up, and I shall be safe; and then to me, As thy day is, so shall thy strength be.
One day, he said, I have longed when I have seen people go down into the water to be baptized, to go too. He was answered, That there was no salvation in water. He replied, Oh! I know that, but you know it is so sweet to follow the Lord! At another time, he said, Aunt, I have a secret hope, that if I was to recover, the Lord would never let me forget his goodness to me; these afflictions would be useful to me through life. Once, when in great pain, he said, Its only weaning—I want a great deal of weaning. Oh what a mercy to be reconciled to the will of the Lord. The Lord is very good.
The following Saturday, when lifting him into bed, he said, Oh! Aunt, may the Lord give me patience, and you strength. I answered, I believe he will. And though we could mot see the end of the Lord, in thus afflicting him, yet if not before, we should in the light of glory. He answered, What a mercy to know we are going there. I hope my dear you know for yourself, you are going there? He replied with great firmness, Yes, I can say I believe I am.—And last night (alluding to some hours of great pain and agony) he said, If I could have spoken, though my poor body was so much afflicted, and my patience almost gone, I could have said, I know I am going to glory! He added, If I am not deceived, I hope I am not. Oh! what a great thing to be reconciled to the will God. Oh! pray for me, that I may have more patience to hold out.
March 26.—For several hours in great extremity of pain, but declared himself happy in soul.—Something having been said about faith, he answered, Ah! it is easy enough to talk about faith, but to be afflicted as I am, then we see how little faith we have got. Oh! Aunt, pray for me? Ask the Lord, Oh! do, do! Observe, this latter expression, Ask the Lord, was continually his request. I once said to him, then you believe the Lord heareth prayer? He answered with great quickness, Yes, and answering too. Being encouraged not to fear, he said, But sometimes I have fears! But why art thou cast down, Oh my soul? This day, when much distressed in body, he said, But why should I complain? What did the Lord suffer?
He sunk beneath our heavy woes To raise us to a throne; There’s not a gift his hand bestows, But cost his heart a groan!
March 28.—He said, Aunt, I am not desirous to live, but I hope I shall not go off in agony. Oh! Oh! let me be the subject of your prayers, continually! Oh! spend all your time in wrestling for me.
Lord’s day, March 31.—In the afternoon a few friends came to see him, and a few hours he was cheerful, and free from pain. About ten, his pains became intolerable. It was a time of great distress. Between eleven and twelve, he became more easy, and a sweet colour appeared in his countenance. He said, Aunt, when I am in glory I shall sing as loud as any one, The crowned Lord of all. Oh! I long to go—I long to be singing hallelujah! He then sung Hallelujah, hallelujah! He then repeated the whole of the hymn, Grace, ’tis a charming theme; laying a particular emphasis on the words, Wrote my name—repeating (_My name_). Oh! I long to be singing. Crown him Lord of all! Calling to his Uncle in the next room, to come, Crown him Lord of all! On its being complied with, he joined with the sweetest voice. On our retiring to the next room, he sung alone, in a soft voice, a great part of the hymn, called Gethsemane. He then called, Uncle; come and sing again? On his replying, My dear; I am very low, he said, never mind, I will help you! He then sweetly joined in, Grace, ’tis a charming sound. At the conclusion, he said, It is all of grace. Oh! I long to Crown him Lord of all! He requested his Uncle to go to prayer? When concluded, he shook him by the hand, saying, I thank you, I thank you.—Monday.—Extremely low all day. On turning him in bed, he said, Oh! what should I do without you? but instantly added, in a louder voice, What should I do without the Lord?
Tuesday, April 2nd.—A day full of pain and distress indeed. About noon, he said, I shall not be long here! I expressed a hope of meeting him in glory. He answered, Yes, I do not fear that. I replied, yes, for He is able to save to the uttermost. He replied, If he has not saved you, he never will—adding, Saved from the beginning of the world! What a mercy Aunt, to be in Christ?—Wednesday.—Very low all day. Several times in the day he expressed a desire to depart, and be with Christ. He cried out, Oh! this poor sinful body—a body of sin and death!—Late at night, he sighed, and said, Lord, what is man!—Thursday.—Suffered much all day. About noon, he said, To-morrow is Good Friday—Ah! what did the Lord suffer for us? And in a very emphatic manner, said, Oh Gethsemane!—Friday.—Evidently much worse. About noon he was very restless. I said, My dear, who can place your pillow easy? He replied, Only one God—must be my physician. About noon, he said, Oh! pray to the Lord to take me very soon? Then you are willing to go to him? He replied, Yes, before tea time, if it was the Lord’s will! Oh that I could fall asleep in his arms. Oh! wrestle Aunt, Oh! wrestle! On uttering a few short petitions in his behalf, he affectionately thanked me, saying, Oh that our united prayers may be answered. About three o’clock, he said, Oh! why doth he tarry so long? Oh that _his chariot_ was waiting for me! On assuring him that was the case—that the holy angels were surrounding him, to convey him before the throne of God and the Lamb, he cried, Oh that he would come quickly! Oh! to hear the sound of his chariot wheels! Why doth he tarry so long? When about to fall asleep in his arms, he whispered:
Cease fond nature, cease thy strife, Let me languish into life.
The remainder of the evening spent in great pain, but fervent expressions after the coming of the Lord, often crying, Oh! ask the Lord why is his chariot so long in coming! About three in the morning, he fell into a sleep, and without pain or groan, sweetly fell asleep in Jesus.
Thus terminated the life of this believer in Jesus. May you, and I, and all his dear friends, be partakers of the like precious faith. Amen.
Your’s, most affectionately,
_E. Bonner_.
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Farewell, my dear son—and while I embalm thy memory with tears, a Gospel hope points me to a time when I shall meet you again, in the sacred blissful presence of a reigning Saviour, and a smiling God. Amen.
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FINIS.