Her Removal to West Bromwich, and Death
How long, after the death of her husband, Mrs. Savage continued at Wrenbury Wood, is not certainly known; but on leaving that place, she sojourned, for a season, with her children and friends. It was not till the year 173G that she removed to West Bromwich, and it was her final abode. The change will be best expressed in her own words.
“Tuesday, September 7th. I take leave of Wem,* particularly of this closet, humbly desiring to leave a blessing behind mc on them and all theirs, entreating that all the prayers that have been, or shall be, offered up here may be graciously heard, and answered, for Christ’s sake. Next morning I set forward for Bromwich, not without some degree of fear and trembling, lest I should not be
* The residence of her daughter, Mrs. Holland, the wife of the Rev, Mr. Holland, a Dissenting Minister.
able for such a journey; yet, I bless God for some degree of courage, and cheerfulness. We slept at Newport. Next day came hither in safety. AH my bones shall say. Lord, who is like unto thee? I take this as an answer to prayer. And now 1 am here. Lord, what wilt thou have me to do? I am encouraged to find some good, praying people, with whom I hope to spend a happy eternity. I observe that when old Jacob w-ent down into Egypt, God told him that Joseph should close his eyes. So it may be that my child here* may do the last office for me. If so, I beg my precious soul may be safe; then, all is well.”
In this situation, freed from the cares of business, she spent the residue of her days in diligent preparation for heaven.
It pleased God, however, to prolong her earthly existence a considerable time.
While here, she was favoured with a visit, which she thus records.
“1737. May 23d, Monday night. We were surprised by the coming of an unexpected friend — Dr. Doddridge. I have been often pleased and edified by his books, but I never expected to have conversed personally with * Mrs. Witton. She died JXoveniber 3d, 1775, a;t. 74.
hiin. I now find such a happy mixture of piety, sweetness, and humility, as niucli atHects me.”
She often adverts to the advanced period to which her days had been lengthened, in terms 1 ike the following.
“1738. March 14. O that I may be some way useful even in old age! I am willing to continue here while God pleases, but my settled judgment is, to desire to depart, and be with Christ, which is far better. I see my children’s children, and peace upon Israel.”
“18th. Looking out at my window I see Bromwich church, where that excellent man Mr. Reynolds was buried. I have desired that my bones may be laid by his, especially that I may stand with him at Christ’s right hand in that day.”
“20th. Though alone, I am not lonely. I can delight in a pen and a book, and opportunity to devote myself to God. My best Friend sees in secret. I am comforted under decays of nature when I think of the future glory. This morning I was refreshed by remembering these particulars of a sermon of my dear brother’s. Characters of the true friends of Christ. They visit him — value hiin — and vindicate him; welcome him, wait for him, and walk with him: — they lay all iheir concerns at his feet — they love all his friends — they long for his second appearance in glory.’ This is my beloved and my friend.”
1742. April 10. My kind Master will not cast off a poor old servant. It is a good remark of Dr. Watts’s — that ’ to a pious person old age is but as a summer’s evening.’ O that mine may be so!”
“1742. April 15. Saturday night. I am desirous to prepare for the approaching Sabbath and sacrament. I find some comfort from that old verse,
“The Lord can tell, he knows full well The thoughts we entertain.”
“I would be better, and do better. A kind providence has followed me all my days, particularly, in bringing me to this place to finish life so comfortably — where I have so many advantages both for soul and body.”
The following memorial of the illness and death of a neighbour, though brief, is interesting.
“1741. January 20th. This day we had discouraging tidings of our friend John Hick-COX, fearing that he is wearing oiT. It is comfortable to think that I shall not stay long behind, but, especially that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. It pleased me to see in a small note from him lately that he styled himself ‘Your comforted, afflicted friend.’ Our God has cordials for his afflicted servants.”
“May 22. This morning our good friend J. II. — (whom we have so long prayed for) died. The precious soul received into those blessed mansions, which he has been so long expecting, and preparing for. We had hoped he should yet have been continued for usefulness here. But God said — No — And, therefore, it is fit we should submit.”
Nor is the grateful recollection of providential kindness to our nation less pleasing,
1743. November 5th. She writes, “My good God still renews his mercies to me, but, alas! how dull and cold am I in thankfulness. The mercies of this day to this nation, though so long since, should not be forgotten. We are still a Protestant people. Nothing was blown up but the treason. None were executed but the traitors. This was the Lord’s doing. Old mercies should be remembered with new thankfulness.”
A life spent in the fear of God, in the active exercise of those graces which dignify the Christian character, must terminate well. From the uttermost part of the earth have we heard songs, even glory to the righteous.
Mrs. Savage’s views of death were, in general, cheering, and she was commonly enabled, through her whole course, to regard the ’ last enemy’ as disarmed and conquered. On one occasion she thus expresses herself.” I was at home all day. I find going out will not agree with my present condition. Yet I would be very thankful that it is not with me as formerly in these circumstances. My good God grants me the use of my limbs. As to future events I humbly submit to his will. My times are in thy hand. My two last confinements were accompanied with mourning on account of the death of dear relations, and which of us death will next strike at we know not. But, blessed be God, it is a serpent without a sting. O death, where is thy sting? I trust I can cheerfully bid farewell to all that is dear to me on earth, knowing that my best Friend is in heaven, where he ever lives and reigns — and he has prayed that all his may be with him. Amen.
“O glorious hour I O blessed abode!
I shall be near, and like my God!
And flesh and sin no more control
The sacred pleasures of my soul!’”
Another lime thus. “Lord’s day spent in solitude. In tlic morning I was chastened with pain. I thought — what if it should increase and be a messenger of death. I did not fear it. I thought of that excellent translation of Psalm lxxiii.:
‘What if the springs of life were broke,
And flesh and heart should faint?
God is my soul’s eternal rock,
The strength of every saint I ’
Surely there is no reason to fear.”
In an illness wherein she expected to die, her faith and hope were strong; mentioning the particulars in her diary, she says, “I was not well. I apprehended symptoms of a fever, and I record it to the praise of God’s Grace, that I had but little fear of death. The next morning I was well again: my heavenly Father but shook his rod.” A little after she thus proceeds: “This week I thought sometimes of that passage in Daniel xii. 13. ‘But go thou thy way.’ A sweet Scripture. The prophet Daniel is dismissed, and promised a comfortable retreat. Mcthinks I should like this text for my funeral sermon. Death is a rest from our labours; my body shall rest in the grave; my soul in heaven.” In that illness being asked whether she wanted any thing, she replied, “I do not want peace of conscience and hopes of a better world.”
Her meditation on her latter end was frequent and familiar, and in reading good books she particularly noticed what was calculated to remove the ’ pain of dying.’ The following are a few instances.
“The Communion of Saints is an article of our creed, and a very desirable one in this imperfect state. It will be much more so in that state of perfection. And, indeed, the enjoyment of those in the other world whom I so dearly loved here, is that which, sometimes, in my serious thoughts, does a little sweeten the thought of death to me.”
“I read part of an old discourse of dear brother Henry’s concerning Sabbath sanctification. He had this argument: It would help to prepare for death to consider — If it be hard to get out of the world for one day, when we shall so soon return to it again, surely we shall find it hard to get out and not return. I endeavoured to meditate a little on death — It is the last enemy — but it is a conquered one.
It is but welcome death, and farewell death — for ever. Oh that I may experience the first resurrection, and then the second death sliull have no power.”
“Saturday morning I was weak and spiritless. In the afternoon I read some of my New England History; a book which often sw-eclly entertains me. To-day I was affected with a passage respecting Mr. James Noyse, p. 148. He said he felt the whole frame of nature giving way, which threatened his dissolution to be at hand. But, he thanked God, he was not amazed at it. Truly I cannot but often think the same of myself, yet I avoid speaking of it lest I should be thought fanciful. But I would make this use of my frequent infirmities. O that the blessed angels may be ready to meet my departing soul. ‘When his present state,’ observes Mr. Howe, ’ shall be considered by a saint in glory, what a change! What would I once have given for a steady, abiding frame in holiness: for a heart constantly bent, and biassed towards God; constantly serious, tender, lively, watchful, heavenly, spiritual, meek, humble, cheerful, self-denying. How have I cried and strove for this, to get such a heart. How oft have I spread this desire before the
Searcher of hearts — Turn me out of all my worldly comforts, so thou give me but such a heart. What indignation have I sometimes conceived against my own soul when I have found it wandering, and could not reduce it; hovering, and could not fix it; dead, and could not quicken it; low, and could not raise it. How earnestly have I expected this blessed day when all these distempers should be perfectly healed, and my soul recover a healthy, lively, spiritual frame.”
“Sabbath. This week I read part of a sermon by Mr. Grosvenor at the funeral of a Mrs. lludge, one of his society, an aged widow. He styles it ‘Precious Death.’ At p. 20, he has this excellent remark: ‘Since the steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, surely he will order this last, this most important step, the step from one world to another.’ It is a long step. Methinks 1 should be very thankful for this good soul-food. The Lord will not sutler the soul of the righteous to famish. Blessed be his name. Afterwards he proceeds. — ‘The death of a saint brings honour to Christ. I undertook for him (may the Redeemer say) and here he is. I have led him through the wilderness of this world, and I have now brought him to the gates of the grave. I will not leave him there, but will keep him company through the valley of the shadow of death. It is my business to see that he takes no harm.’ How comfortable is it to be able, on a death-bed, to say — Lord, I venture my all on the efficacy of thy grace, and the unfailing certainty of thy covenant. On this have I built all my hopes, and on the same bottom I will now venture my departing soul. I know whom I have trusted. It is no new, no unusual thing for me to give myself, body and soul, unto thee. It is what thou knowest I have often done. Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit. I know I cannot comfortably do it at death, if I do not sincerely do it now. The excellent saint, Mr. Grosvenor speaks of, had much comfort in her last hours, though in her life-time she leaned much to the doubtful side. The nearer she came to her end the more her assurance grew. At length these words dropped from her: ‘I thank God I have no clouds nor fears remaining.’ From that time, he observes, ’ we stood round the dying as curious spectators to see and observe, how heaven met the travelling soul on its way — to learn to die — to see religion in some of its grandeur — to see a mortal triumph over death, and, through faith and patience, more llian a conqueror. And, alter she had, with the majesty of an ancient patriarch, given the last admonitions and blessings to the several branches of her family, she waited, to use her own words, but a little while for ’ leave to die.’ When in her last sickness, the minister asked her what he should more particularly desire of God for her, she answered; ‘Pray for patience to bear the pains and troubles of sickness — for pardon of all sins — and the evidence of that pardon, acceptance with God in the beloved, our Lord Jesus Christ, and a welcome reception into his presence.”’
It was not needful, though had it been consistent with infinite wisdom, it would have been for edification, that Mrs. Savage should have left this world, enjoying those cheering manifestations which have shed a lustre upon some favoured believers. A sudden death does not admit of it. The words of a saint, whose soul is just ready to take flight to heaven, are peculiarly impressive, but they are not the test of our judgment. The life is the best evidence of ])iety. What Mrs. Savage’s was we have seen. Her hoary hairs were found in the way of righteousness, and her end, though not triumphant, was serene, and lia{)py. The event will be best related in the words of her niece, Miss Hannah Tylston, in a letter to a friend.
“My dear aunt Savage died, February 27th, 1752, and in a good old age (almost eighty-eight,) was gathered to her people. Her death was sudden. She dropped mortality without being herself sensible of the change, till she found herself in the world of light, among the number of spirits made perfect — the world to which she was allied, and formed to the temper and disposition of. She had lived a holy, cheerful life; made religion her business, her choice early; and she was an ornament to her profession, through all the different scenes and periods of it. She was useful, beloved, meek, humble, charitable. She is gone to receive her reward — joined by the society she loved. May I ever remember such examples as these, to quicken, animate, and encourage me in the Christian warfare, since I have by experience known how happy all thy servants are. May my soul be gathered with theirs.’’
Her mortal remains were deposited in the church-yard at West Bromwich, in sure and certain hope of ‘the resurrection to eternal life.’
The funeral sermon was preaciicd, March 15th, 1752, by the Rev. Mr. Howell, Dissenting Minister at West Bromwich, from Daniel xii. 13. “But go thou thy way, till the end be; for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days” — a text of her own choosing. The discourse was never printed.
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