Her Patience and Resignation under Affliction
It was in tribulation that Mrs. Savage most evidently manifested, by a heavenly dignity and composure, the influence of piety. In her afflictions we see the keenest sensibility regulated by faith, and in the deepest sorrow behold her yielding, by sincere resignation and fervent prayer, to the divine will. Her patience and humility, with a constellation of celestial graces, shone, in every melancholy gloom, with peculiar lustre. The brilliancy of the stars is best seen when the night is dark. “Oh that we could learn,” she remarks, “these four good lessons, which sickness should teach us — what a vain thins the world is — what a vile thing sin is — what a poor thing man is — what a precious thing an interest in Christ is. If we could thus make the house of affliction a school of instruction, how well were it.”
She thus notices the sudden illness of her beloved father, at a time when he was expected to preach at Wrenbury Wood: “1687, Dec. 2G, Monday. I went at night with my husband to Broad Oak, on foot, with a sad heart. Sometimes I could resign my father up to God; then, by-and-by, natural affection prevailed, then, grace again. I well remembered that when, at first, I entered into covenant with God (as well as often since), 1 gave my all to him, without excepting any of my dearest comforts, and now shall I draw back 1 No. I did heartily, as my tender affection would suffer, resign him up to God. We found him not so ill as I feared. Wednesday and Thursday his pain continued, yet still supported. Everlasting arms are under. An unseen hand making all his bed easy to him, and, in some degree, to us. Three things, he told us, are comfortable in aflliction, — “An affliction borne patiently; an enemy forgiven heartily; and a Sabbath sanctified uprightly.” Further, “Six things are a salve for every sore; Christ, a good conscience, the promises, patience, prayer, foretastes of heaven.” He had many more sweet expressions. Grace will appear in any condition. On Friday he began to amend. Let God have all the glory.”
It pleased God frequently to exercise her with sharp and long-continued trials of a more personal nature. “Many are the afflictions of the risfhteous.” “God had one Son,” said Augustine, “without sin, but none without affliction.” A few days after the birth of her first child she was called to the painful task of surrendering him to the tomb. The whole of her account of the affecting event is so interesting as to render any apology for its length unnecessary.
“1G88. About 5 at night, December 18th, he died: seemingly in little extremity; wherein God answered my prayers. Now I could not keep my passions in bounds. Strength of natural affection works, yet my judgment is quiet. I had not one repining thought against God, as if he dealt hardly with me. ‘It is the Lord, let him do as seemeth him good.’ Shall I refuse to drink of the cup that my
Father puts into my hand? If he had seen it good for mc I should have had this comfort spared; but, perhaps, he saw that my heart would too much have gone out after it. Therefore hath he dried up the cistern, to bring me nearer to the fountain. Oh that it may have that blessed eflect! As to the everlastins: state of the child, I have good hope concerning it; ’tis a very comfortable thing on this account to have an interest in God, because he hath said, * I will be a God to thee and to thy seed.’ It should seem that David had some hope of the eternal salvation of his child that died in infancy, because he says — I shall go to him. I am satisfied that it v.as taken into covenant with God. What though my house be not so M’ith God, he hath made with me an everlasting covenant, and this is all my salvation and all my desire. My good God hath been with me in six troubles, and in seven. Thrice this year in peril. What another year may bring forth I know not, neither am I solicitous to know, for this I know — All is working for my good. God is teaching me by his rod. Upon this rod I have found honey. How hath my soul sometimes gone out after God! I have had sweet communion with him, and communications from him upon my bed; particularly, on Sabbath-day, December 16th, when my dear mother read to me 1 Tim. i. Oh! how did my soul catch at that passage in the beginning — The Lord Jesus Christ, who is our hope. Who is my hope. As one said, This me, and my, and mine, is the life of religion. It is the life of my comfort when I read Romans viii. 1, to be able to say, there is no condemnation to me. Who would be without an interest in Christ? ‘Tis comfortable at all times, but surely sweetest of all, when under God’s atllicting hand, to be able to say — ’ the rod is in the hand of a Father — this bitter portion is designed for my good — though he slay me, yet ril trust him.’ — Shall I think much to be crossed who deserve to be crushed? My keeping of my chamber makes me, sometimes, sad and solitary, to think of the pleasure others in my circumstances enjoy, to whom God is pleased to spare their children; but hath he not made it up to me, in some measure, already, by sweet communion with himself? And oh! what comfort also have I in other relations — a yoke-fellow, kind and loving beyond expression — parents, brothers, and sisters — all joining with me in singing to God, both of mercy and judgment.”
“My strength r3turns pretty fast. Blessed be God. I desire to be ready for the next trial. He is training me by degrees. The honey that Jonathan tasted on the rod — 1 Sam. xiv. 27, did enlighten his eyes. O! that it may be so with me. Others can attend on public ordinances. I am confined. Psalm lxviii. was read by me one Sabbath morning. A sweet allusion from that passage, verse 12 — she that tarried at home divided the spoil. God can make my solitude profitable to me, yet I cannot but long to see the outgoings of my God, my King, as I have seen them in the sanctuary.”
Early in the year 1094, another infant son was removed from her embraces, soon after his birth. Her sentiments will be best expressed in her own language.
“Friday night, 12th January, about six o’clock, it pleased God to take him to himself I found it hard to quiet my s{)irit so as I should. My judgment is quiet; and tells me that from such a hand nothing can come amiss; but my affections are often rebelling. Nature is, sometimes, too strong for grace. I must not for the sake of this one cross throw away other comforts. I have other relations exceedingly tender and careful, especially he who is in the nearest relation, whom God might have taken from me instead of this infant. ]My dear mother was with me two nights, and sister Radford from Chester, staying till the child was taken, was very useful to nie. I have the prayers of dear father, brother, &c.; but, above all, that which most comforts me is — my covenant interest in God as mine, which gives me hope that he means me no hurt in his dispensations. He saw that I spent too many thoughts and cares about my children, and if this had been spared my cares would have been increased. I trust God hath taken him to heaven, and left me to serve him better on earth. Amen.”
The death of her only surviving son, in the twenty-second year of his age, gave fresh occasion for the exercise of Christian graces; and though her heart seems to have been, thereby, peculiarly agonized, she was enabled, through divine influence, thus to record the visitation.
“1721, February 15. My dear Philip was seized with the fatal distemper, the small-pox. Many, many, fervent prayers were put up for him, both in closets and congregations, but on Monday, February 27th, between one and two o’clock, he breathed his last — the blessed spirit took wing, I trust, to the world of everlasting rest and joy. Tiic desire of our eyes — concerning whom we were ready to say, This son shall comfort us. Once all our joy — now, all our tears. Near 22 years of age. O my dear Jonathan, thou art slain in the high places. He was just beginning to appear in public business — sober, and pious. A true lover of his friends, of whom he said on his death-bed, ‘I lay them down as I do my body, in hope to meet again every way better.’ To his father he said, ‘Farewell, my dear father, you won’t be long after me:’ — one of the last words we could understand was of that blessed choir — that triumphant choir, to which, I verily believe, he is joined. A sore breach this is to us. But, now God has done his work, let us go and do ours — patiently, and quietly lying down under the rod. It is the Lord, let him do as seemeth him good. I have no murmuring thoughts. Lord, thou shalt beat, and I will endeavour to bear. I do not think the worse of God, or of prayer, for this dispensation; yet, sometimes, I am much oppressed. I find that deceit lies in generals. IIow often have I in word, and in tongue, given up and d.cvoted my all — yoke-fellow, children, estate — and all without mental reservation. And now, when God comes to try me in but one dear comfort, with what difficulty can I part with him! O this wicked heart. Shall I think to keep back any thing when I have given all? By no means. Lord, I am thine, and all I have, and all I can do. Though thou shouldest strip me of all my children, and of ail my comforts here, yet if thou give me thyself, and clear up to me my interest in the everlasting covenant, it is enough. That blessed covenant has enough in it to gild the most gloomy dispensation of Providence. O, that we may hear the Lord’s controversy! He seems to speak in this providence as one that will be heard. Lord, give me the hearing ear. The man of wisdom will hear. What says my Lord unto his servant? — It is a great loss to lose any children, especially such an one as this. Lord, do me good by it, that I may keep the mean be-tween despising the chastening, and fainting under it. We have had a long series of health, peace, plenty — We have not been emptied from vessel to vessel. We have lived too easily, too happily, even to the envy of those about us — and now, God sends this sharp and heavy affliction. I would get good by it, and be brought nearer to himself. Alas! how weak is my heart, how hard to turn my tears into the right channel. We have many sy-mpathizing friends and letters, which to me are but as songs sung to a heavy heart.”
“March 5th. Sabbath-day. Mr. Tawdry preached the funeral sennon on Hcb. vi, 12. ‘That ye be not slothful, but followers of them, w’ho through faith and patience inherit the promises.’ He gave him a short, but just, character. I am comforted with hopes that I shall shortly follow him to that blessed rest. Lord, do us good by these providences. Bring me nearer to thee, and then ’ separate me from what thou wilt, and when thou wilt!’ I have condoling letters daily from my friends. Their words, indeed, do reach my case, but cannot reach my heart. Yet (I bless God) I am supported. Every one of our dear friends is sorry for us. But, what are they?”
“Friday, March 24. This was my dear Philip’s birth-day: if he had lived to it he would have been twenty-two. But, I trust, he is born into glory. ‘The pangs of death to a believer are but as the pains of a birth. Blessed be God, my dear child had no bands in his death. He said, ‘Death is not bitter.’ I must remember the mercy of his birth, and with this comfortable reflection — that neither of US were over desirous, or over foml, notwithstanding we had five daughters before. A good woman said to the prophet — Did I desire a son? I hope not inordinately. My dear mother, when some seemed much pleased that we had an heir, said, — ‘If they Iiave not a better inheritance than any we have for them, it were better they had never been born.’ I trust he is now possessed of a blessed inheritance — incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away.”
“Lord’s day, April 30th, I went to Nantwich. I had too many thoughts of my dear Philip, who used to ride before me. Yet, I hope, I do cheerfully acquiesce in the divine disposals. The text was Rom. vi. 13, Yield yourselves unto God. I trust I do this deliberately, sincerely, freely, for ever. I did it at the Lord’s table, and when I took the elements I had this thought — The particular grace I desire to get strengthened hero is — submission, and contentment with the blessed will of God in this severe dispensation. I have good ground to hope I am answered. My judgment is quiet and satisfied, but my aflcction sometimes breaks out. I have not had a dry day since. In heaven all tears shall be wiped away. O blessed state! Everlasting joy shall crown those blessed ones, and sorrow and sighing shall forever flee away.”
This heart breaking trial called forth the commiseration, and sympathy of friends, both near and distant. Many consolatory letters were addressed to her: part of her reply to one written by the Rev. Mr. Finch, of Norwich, is as follows:
“Rev. and dear sir, — “I do, as I w-ell may, esteem it a great favour that you would take so much time from your other weighty employments to write to me a mere stranger — but unacquaintedness with the face is no bar to the communion of saints — and for all your kind expressions of a tender sympathy, I return you a great many thanks. ‘Tis a demonstration that you are qualified, as a gospel minister should be, to bind up broken hearts, and to speak a word in season to them that need it. It has pleased our heavenly Father, in wisdom, to chastise us, by taking away the ’ desire of our eyes with a stroke,’ yet I desire to justify him in all his dealings. From his good hands nothing can come amiss. I can see by what you write that you can easily put your soul in my soul’s stead, and know, somewhat, of the heart of a sorrowful parent. I was ready to say — this same shall comfort us, and that he would be serving God on earth when we are silent in the dust; but infinite wisdom said otherwise. And shall folly dispute? We were ready to think our mountain stood strong; but alas! soon convinced of the contrary. I would now make it my greatest care to improve the providence. To lose such a dear child, and not be bettered by the affliction, doubles the loss. You well observe that of David — ‘I shall go to him’ — not only to him to the grave, but to him to heaven, to be joined to that blessed choir which he spoke of a few hours before his death. Though we are much at a loss as to the particular meaning of this providence, yet in general, we are sure it is well. I have now one less tie to draw me downward, and shall have so much less care in my dying moments.”
Afterwards she thus expresses herself: —” This week I found among some of my old collections a useful passage concerning afflictions. ‘If such things befal the Master, it is sulTicient for the servant to be as his Master, and as his Lord. And all to make him more humble, more awful of God, more careful to please him, more fearful to offend him, more conformable to, and contemplative of, Christ’s sufferings, and more compassionate to others. Afllictions render sin more bitter, Christ more sweet, the world more contemptible, death more desirable, heaven more delightful, and glorious grace more admirable in the saints. How good to be thus troubled on every side, but not distressed; cast down, but not destroyed; a bush burning, but not consumed; in a fiery furnace, yet receiving no hurt. Nay more, the fiery chariot of affliction shall be pressed for the service of carrying Christians to heaven. Their very tribulations are made the door for their entering into the kingdom of God. Therefore, the Scriptures count them haj)py that endure, and teach us to reckon it * all joy’ when we fall ’ into divers temptations.’ When I read or hear such things, my own heart ref)roaches me that I have not thus received correction, as I ought. Though my judgment is well satisfied, and submits to the sharpest strokes, yet my aflections are often stubborn, unwilling to be subjected. It was one of my dear Philip’s sayings, when on his death-bed — ‘I can bear any thing from
God’s immediate hand’ — Then why should not I?”
In the year 1729, the faith and patience of this heavenly traveller were again severely tried. Affliction met her with a still more terrible aspect, and the king of terrors removing by a sudden grasp, her aged husband, left her a mourning widow. How aflecling is the following statement!
“Saturday, Sept. 27th. A heavy stroke falls upon me, unexpectedly, by the sudden death of my dear yoke-fellow, with whom I have lived in great amity and affection, these forty-two years and six months. Lord, what is man 1 He seemed pretty well in the morning, but complaining of pain I persuaded him to go to bed, which he no sooner had done, but he expired without a sigh or groan. Alas! what — what is this that God hath done unto us? O, for wisdom and grace to improve this sad providence! He had almost completed his seventy-eighth year. I will endeavour to lay my hand on my mouth. I have often told my heavenly Father, that I will take nothing ill that he shall do with me. Since I have his eye, his ear, and blessing, why should I not submit to his rod?”
“Sabbath day, Sept. 28th. We kept a poor cold, and sorrowful sabbalh. I sit alone and keep silence.”
“Monday. I received condoling letters. One reminds me of that sweet promise — Thy maker is thine husband — I am a widow, but not desolate — none of those who trust in God shall be desolate.”
“I record it to the praise of my best Friend, that this evening (IMonday) I begin to be in a better frame; more composed — so that I slept well. How kind is my heavenly Father to a froward child! Lord, help me to behave myself well under this sharp dispensation. I own the mercy of God to me in outward things. I am not forsaken of my friends, but the contrary; every one is ready to help me. I am not loft in debt, and with children little. Surely all these mercies should make me thankful.”
“Tuesday, Sept. 30th. I am still desiring and endeavouring to improve this affliction. I would meditate on the happiness of separate spirits. He that was lately groaning (though that was seldom) is now, I trust, singing and rejoicing, and would not be again with us. O glorious hour! Blessed exchange!”
“Wednesday, Oct. 1st, We laid up the dear remains in comfortable hope of a glorious resurrection. The sadness of my spirit makes me almost stupid; yet, in reflection, I will say — all is well. We are parted tor a time; yet, I trust, we shall be together for ever. Our friends and neighbours mingle tears with us. He has long served his generation, and is now gone to rest. A flood of cares falls on me, but I cast all my care on my heavenly Father, who has cared for me hitherto, and I trust, will. I lack wisdom. I ask it. Lord, give — give liberally. Do not upbraid. No, not with my folly. For the liOrd God is a sun and shield: the Lord will give grace and glory: no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly. A promise worth a king’s ransom. God’s sovereignty should silence me, and his wisdom satisfy. It is well with my husband. It is well. All is well that God doth. My time after him is not likely to be long.”