CHAPTER XVI.

MARY HARRISON: SHADOW OF DEATH.

The valley of the shadow of death.—Ps. xxiii. 4.

Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit, in darkness, in the deeps. Thy wrath lieth hard upon me, and thou hast afflicted me with all thy waves.-Ps. lxxxviii. 6, 7.

Mine iniquities are gone over mine head: as a heavy burden they are too heavy for me.-Ps. xxxviii. 4.

I am troubled; I am bowed down greatly; I go mourning all the day long.-Ps. xxxviii. 6.

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"IT was not long before I gave her another visit, and then found her under dreadful consternation of mind through the violent assaults of Satan, who as a roaring lion was seeking to swallow up this distressed damsel by the multitude of vain, wicked, yea, blasphemous thoughts he cast into her, whereof she complained in a lamentable and heart-rending accent. Oh, Sir,' says she, with dismal black clouds in the horizon of her countenance, 'you little think what a prodigious, vile, wicked, and abominable wretch I am. My heart is full of most horrid blasphemous thoughts against God. My mind is running upon nothing but what is evil, and that of the deepest dye. Surely there is none, there can be no such grossly wicked person as I in the world. As there is no sorrow, so there is no wickedness like mine.'

"To which I replied: Mrs. Mary, as for the

thoughts you complain of with so much bitterness of heart, they are not yours, neither are you chargeable with them. God will not impute them to you. They are thrown into you by the evil one, who is doing you all the spite he can: and therefore I would have you—and oh, that you would hearken unto me!-to cast Satan's brats, with a holy scorn, at his own door, bidding defiance to him and all his cursed suggestions. For I tell you, as from the Lord, what is your grief or burden now will not be charged upon you as your sin hereafter.

"Though your trembling heart does indeed condemn you, yet God, who is greater than your heart and knows all things (1 John iii. 20), well knows the source and spring from whence these abominable evil thoughts flow, and the power by which they are injected into you. And though you are laying yourself as low as hell, abhorring yourself in dust and ashes, and condemning yourself so grievously for them, this righteous, this all-seeing, this all-knowing God, is so far from condemning you that He is pitying you in this great distress and anguish you are in.

"But whatsoever I said of this nature took no hold upon her, so as to administer any comfort or satisfaction to her, for the ephah of her sorrow was not yet filled up. No, she was to be plunged yet deeper in the furnace of tribulation. She was yet to pass through hotter and more scorching fiery trials. She was yet to drink a much larger draught of that bitter cup her Redeemer drank of before her, and in a more dolorous manner to be baptized with that baptism He was baptized with. She was yet to be more dreadfully and terribly shaken, and to be emptied from vessel to vessel that she might at last know the righteousness of the Lord.

"And, therefore, after a little more conference with her, and going to the throne of grace for her, I again took leave with an aching heart and yearning bowels towards her.

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By this time her fame began to spread abroad, and she was talked of far and near, the general subject of most people's discourse. And their discourse about her was according to their various apprehensions and inclinations. The vain and carnal ones thought she was in love, and upon that theme the spicket of their tongues was loosened to vent the froth of their hearts. Indeed, their thoughts about love were not amiss, only they were miserably mistaken both in the nature and in the object of it. The bias of her affections ran towards an unseen Jesus whom the world never knew.

"But the people of God in these parts who had passed through the pangs of the new birth themselves very well knew the nature of her distemper, and the inexpressibleness of her woe, and heartily sympathised with her in her spiritual dolours, and they arose every one from his own place, like Job's friends, and came to bemoan her and to comfort her, for they saw the grief of her soul was very great.

"And, indeed, she had a very large room in the hearts and affections of the best saints amongst us, abundantly manifested in their frequent visiting her and inviting her to their houses, taking no small pains with her to strengthen her feeble knees, to support her fainting spirits, and to refresh her wearied soul, by communicating their experience of God's working upon their hearts in the day of his first appearing to them, when He opened their eyes and turned them from darkness unto light, and from the power of Satan unto God.

"Yet it had little or no effect upon her. She

remained in a very distressed and disconsolate state even mourning as one without hope. Her watery eyes, her ghastly countenance, her trembling joints, the great disorder and confusion of her outward and inward man mournfully spoke in a silent yet pathetical dialect what Job spoke with his lips: Have pity upon me, O ye my friends, for the hand of God hath touched me.'

"Truly, it would have melted a heart of stone to have heard her daily bemoanings and nightly lamentations. She did grievously speak in the anguish of her spirit, and lamentably complain in the bitterness of her soul.

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"How often would she cry out there was none in the world so bad as she. My heart is harder than anybody can conceive. I do not, I cannot love Christ, or have any desire after him. I am as dry as a stick, as sapless as a stone. I cannot believe. I cannot repent. I cannot pray. I have not one good thought, and therefore it cannot otherwise be but I must perish for ever.'

"In these dolorous bemoanings she wasted and pined away. She refused to be comforted. She mourned as one that had no hope, and that continually. Her chamber was a perfect Rama, where no other voice but that of woe, lamentation, and bitter bewailing was day and night to be heard. Insomuch that she was a heart-breaking grief to her friends, a burden to herself, and an amazing spectacle of astonishment to all who looked upon her. Never did I see such a mournful sight, never did I hear such a doleful sound.

"I prayed for her, I prayed with her. I cried day and night to the mighty God of Jacob on her behalf. I chose suitable subjects as I thought for her condition to preach upon in public, and did many

times apply what I delivered particularly to her. She sat just against me in the next pew to the pulpit. Her eyes were continually fixed on me, but with so ghastly and pitiful a look that I could scarce restrain tears.

"She always repaired after evening sermon to the repetition lecture in the middle of the town, carried on by a godly zealous brother of our church, who never failed to pour out his soul in prayer to God for her, and that in a most affectionate, melting manner. I was many times there myself, and when all was over I used to take her by the hand and smilingly ask her: Come, dear Mrs. Mary, how is it with you? Has God spoken anything to your soul to-day? Have you relished and savoured anything you have heard?'

"Her answer was always the same: No, my heart is too hard. I have not been in the least sensible of anything you have delivered this day. You had as good have preached to a stone as to me.' And then pulling her hood over her eyes, to hide her tears, she would pensively go away; for she could never bear to be long in any company.

"This filled my heart with inexpressible sadness; that no word how suitable soever would fasten on her, that one sabbath came successively after another, but she never the better, her soul not at all refreshed by any waters flowing from the sanctuary.

worse.

"In this deplorable state she continued many weeks without any sensible alteration except for the That she was in a lost undone condition, having a hard unbelieving heart, without any interest in Christ, or like to have any, was her continued uninterrupted dolorous complaint.'