In preparing a funeral sermon for this evening, I pulled this out of John Newton’s letters.
It reminds us, busy – healthy – forgetful – living people that we are, of the important reality of death.
Letter IV.–Testimony of dying Christians to the reality of gospel truth.
March 10, 1774.
My Lord–For about six weeks past, I have had occasion to spend several hours of almost every day with the sick and the dying. These scenes are to a minister–like walking the hospitals to a young surgeon. The various cases which occur–exemplify, illustrate, and explain, with a commanding energy, many truths, which may be learned indeed at home–but cannot be so well understood, or their force so sensibly felt, without the advantage of experience and observation.
Though the grand evidence of those truths upon which our hopes are built arises from the authority of God speaking them in his Word, and revealing them by his Spirit, to the awakened heart, (for until the heart is awakened, it is incapable of receiving this evidence,) yet some of these truths are so mysterious, so utterly repugnant to the judgment of depraved nature–that, through the remaining influence of unbelief and vain reasoning, the temptations of Satan, and the subtle arguments with which some men reputed wise attack the foundations of our faith–the minds even of believers are sometimes capable of being shaken.
I know no better corroborating evidence for the relief of the mind under such assaults–than the testimony of dying people, especially of such as have lived out of the noise of controversy, and who perhaps never heard a syllable of what has been started in these evil days, against the deity of Christ, his atonement, and other important articles.
Permit me, my lord, to relate, upon this occasion, some things which exceedingly struck me in the conversation I had with a young woman whom I visited in her last illness about two years ago. She was a sober, prudent person, of plain sense, could read her Bible–but had read little besides. Her knowledge of the world was nearly confined to the parish; for I suppose she was seldom, if ever, twelve miles from home in her life. She had known the gospel about seven years before the Lord visited her with a lingering consumption, which at length removed her to a better world. A few days before her death, I had been praying by her bed-side, and in my prayer I thanked the Lord that he gave her now to see that she had not followed cunningly-devised fables.
When I had finished, she repeated that word, “No,” she said, “not cunningly-devised fables; these are realities indeed; I feel their truth, I feel their comfort. Oh! tell my friends, tell my acquaintances, tell inquiring souls, tell poor sinners, tell all the daughters of Jerusalem, (alluding to Solomon’s Song, 5:16, from which she had just before asked me to preach at her funeral,)–what Jesus has done for my soul! Tell them, that now in the time of need I find him my beloved and my friend, and as such, I commend him to them.”
She then fixed her eyes steadfastly upon me, and proceeded, as well as I can recollect, as follows: “Sir, you are highly favored in being called to preach the gospel. I have often heard you with pleasure; but give me permission to tell you, that I now see all you have said, or can say, is comparatively but little. Nor, until you come into my situation, and have death and eternity fully in your view–will it be possible for you to conceive the vast weight and importance of the truths you declare. Oh! Sir, it is a serious thing to die! No words can express what is needful to support the soul in the solemnity of a dying hour.”
I believe it was the next day when I visited her again. After some discourse as usual, she said, with a remarkable vehemence of speech, “Are you sure I cannot be mistaken?” I answered without hesitation, “Yes, I am sure; I am not afraid to say–my soul for yours, that you are right.” She paused a little, and then replied, “You say true; I know I am right. I feel that my hope is fixed upon the Rock of ages; I know whom I have believed. Yet if you could see with my eyes–you would not wonder at my question. But the approach of death presents a prospect, which is until then hidden from us, and which cannot be described.”
She said much more to the same purpose; and in all she spoke, there was a dignity, weight, and evidence, which I suppose few professors of divinity, when lecturing from the chair–have at any time equaled. We may well say with Elihu, Who teaches like him?
Many instances of the like kind I have met with here. I have a poor girl near me who looks like an idiot, and her natural capacity is indeed very small; but the Lord has been pleased to make her acquainted alternately with great temptations, and proportionably great discoveries of his love and truth. Sometimes, when her heart is enlarged, I listen to her with astonishment. I think no books, nor ministers I ever met with have given me such an impression and understanding of what the apostle styles “The deep things of God” as I have upon some occasions received from her conversation…