So far as I know this is the last letter she ever wrote. On the 11th of May, Mrs. Felts went home and took charge of her work, while she gave her time fully to the care of the sick. Every day and every night she would visit one or the other, often going from one directly to the other, taking but very little rest. One day she remarked to Mrs.
Felts: "Alice, this is the only time since your marriage that I have ever wanted you back; when I gave you up, I did so freely and have never regretted it, and this is the first time I have ever really needed you since, and now the Lord has arranged it for you to be here."
On the 16th of May, "Aunt Tamson" (Mrs. Tamson Cuff, her oldest sister) passed away from earth. At the time of her death mother was absent; coming to look upon her lifeless form, she talked pleasantly with those around of the reality and glory of heaven, and came home singing:
"I know not the hour when my Lord shall come, To take me away to His own dear home, But I know that His presence will lighten my gloom; And that will be glory for me."
Taking off her bonnet, she said: "Alice, attend to the work, I must indulge myself a little now"; and lying down on the sofa, she wept freely for some time. She lay there till evening and then rousing herself, passed the evening in conversation with the daughters of the deceased. On the next day, May 17th, she worked very hard intending to spend all the next day with her mother. About 5 o'clock that afternoon word was brought that _her mother was dead_. Throwing up both hands, she uttered a wail of horror, such as none had ever heard from her before, saying quickly: "Oh! My mother gone; and I so selfish as to be about my work and not with her!" We replied: "But mother you were preparing to spend to-morrow with her." She added immediately: "I could have gone to day. It was my selfishness. Mother said she would die on the 18th and I intended to be with her on that day; but I ought not to have left her, I ought not to have left her," she repeated.
As quickly as possible she was at her mother's bedside and to her inexpressible joy found her _still alive_. She had sunk so low that life was thought extinct, but the Lord had revived her again and she still lived, and recognized her daughter. She lived through the night and waited until the sun had sent his first beams to bless the earth on the 18th, when her happy spirit fled to its eternal home. She had known it would appear for some days, the day and very hour when she should go away. It was the same day of the month and the same hour at which her husband died. Side by side their ashes sleep in the old family graveyard at Gouldtown, awaiting the clarion call of the resurrection trump.
My mother turned not away from the corpse of her mother until she had seen it all prepared for the grave. It was a work, she said, she could leave no stranger to do, and made the same request for herself. "Never allow my body to pass into the hands of strangers," was her request.
On Saturday, the 19th of May, 1877, her sister, Mrs. Cuff, was buried, and Monday following, (May 21st,) her mother's corpse was laid in the grave. After the funeral of the mother, at her suggestion, all the remaining members of the family went back to the old homestead and ate dinner together, she saying it would perhaps be their last time. From these sad days she went direct into hard work, and when gently remonstrated with and fears were expressed that she would get sick, she replied: "Oh! I will get over it, I guess; and if I do not, it is in the end life everlasting."
On the 28th of the month she was taken seriously ill and medical aid was summoned. From the first she expressed but little hope, saying: "I never was sick this way before." She talked freely with her children and would not be satisfied until she had made them say that they had forgiven her for persisting to work against their wish.
During the last Sabbath she spent on earth, she fell into a gentle doze when suddenly waking, she said: "What do you think I saw?" and then musingly she added: "It might have been a dream; I think it was, but I saw the Lord holding Theoph and Cethe, in his arms, and I know He is going to keep them safe."
That night being taken worse, the family watched with her and she remarked: "Ah, children, I shall not be here in the morning." Morning came, however, and she was still spared. In conversation that day she said: "I thought I was dying, but I felt comfortable in mind and had no fear." As her daughter, Mrs. Felts, was obliged to leave, she urged her to watch with great care over her little girl, saying: "As you mould her so will she grow. I never could think my children were only for my pleasure, I did not dare make playthings of them, I thought the training of my children was part of the work God gave me to do."
"I may get well," said she, "but anyhow my life is hid with Christ in God and to be where there is no more pain, where all tears are wiped away,--Ah, you need not wonder that I do not care to stay here. I have been sick so much--and in that land no one says 'I am sick,' I have thought with 'Aunt Tamson' and 'Grandmother' that it was hard to open the gates, but then there's glory on the other side."
The next day (Monday) she appeared better, but during the night was again worse. On Thursday, Father becoming alarmed, despatched for the absent ones; she knew this and objected, saying it would produce needless alarm. That night she had sinking spells. Recovering from one of them, she exclaimed: "Oh, can't you catch the glory of heaven all around me!" Father burst into tears and she immediately added: "Oh, I did not mean to distress you!" Although we knew she was dying, we said but little. Who could talk? Her last audible words were: "Though I walk through the valley and shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me," and taking the hand of her sister, added: "I am deep down in the valley now"--"deep down in the valley, but glory to God," she could say "Thou art with me!"
Just three weeks after her mother's death, viz: Friday, June 8th, 1877, she passed away and there are now three fresh graves in that old burial ground.
THE FUNERAL.
On Monday, June 11th, 1877, a large concourse of people met in Trinity A. M. E. Church, Gouldtown, to pay their last acknowledgements to this modest and excellent woman. The corpse was neatly dressed and in the coffin lay quite a profusion of freshly blown roses. The services at the church were conducted by Rev. Redman Faucett and Dr. B. T. Tanner; those at the grave by Revs. E. J. Hammet, G. W. Boyer and Dr. H. M.
Turner. All spoke eloquently of the virtues of the deceased. After the coffin was lowered down in the grave and solemnly committed to dust, a large basket of white roses were distributed among the weeping relatives and friends, and each threw a handful of sweet flowers on the dust of her whom all had learned to love.
And thus ends the earthly life of a noble woman. Ends did I say? May I not rather say, begins! That life so illustrative of golden virtues and heroic principles, it is to be hoped will go down through the present and succeeding generations, lived over by those whom she loved, and she being dead, may yet speak words of comfort and love to many struggling ones among God's children.
CHAPTER V.
RETROSPECTION.
Shall we not now pause a moment by the side of this fresh grave, and look back over the pathway trod by the modest woman, whose form lies sleeping here, embalmed in flowers, and call to mind anew the virtues she possessed.
We have seen her in the midst of a large family, performing the duties of wife and mother. Shall we not for a moment regard her in that larger sphere of Christian labor, which she filled in the church and in her community.
In 1846 she became an earnest and zealous follower of the Lord, and united with the African Methodist Episcopal Church in Gouldtown, of which the Rev. (now Bishop) A. W. Wayman was then pastor. She was converted during a period of affliction, and I think the lines written in that year and bearing the inscription "written after a time of affliction," page 129, are intended to commemorate that event. The second and third verses seem to describe the state of a soul passing from death to life, through faith in the gospel. She joined the church in October of that year, and seems to have commenced her labors at once. In the Sunday-school she became a teacher and was successful in that capacity in bringing many souls to Christ. It was her object to secure the conversion of every scholar committed to her care, and she seldom failed. She also became teacher of an adult Bible class, which met weekly at her house or the house of one of the neighbors; she managed for some time a weekly prayer meeting, composed of the female members of the church, and subsequently became an active member of the church aid society. Yet, with all this activity, there was no ostentation, no public show, no noisy parade, no extravagant shouting.
She was an uncompromising opponent to woman's preaching, and to all of those mutual aid societies bearing high sounding titles. I think nothing could have induced her to countenance in any way the numerous "orders" which prevail so largely among our people, and she wore no badge, or jewelry. No rings were on her fingers or in her ears, and yet she affected no plainness of dress. She repudiated extravagance of all sorts, and sought to avoid everything which might render her noticeable. After five years of Christian life and labor she came forward as a candidate for baptism; for on this subject she entertained peculiar scruples. She was baptised in 1851, and surely none could have been more worthy. This rite was performed by Rev.
Shepherd Holcombe in the church of which she had been a member five years.
She seems to have consecrated herself most fully to the Lord, and although she repudiated the theory of the "second blessing," yet she doubtless enjoyed all that the strongest advocates of that theory claim. She says in a letter dated February 13th, 1876, (see page 33), that she had laid all upon the altar, even her children, and she did not dare take them off! She counted herself as nothing, not even "worth a sacrifice," and was certainly all the Lord's. What does she mean by this? Seven days before in a scrap book containing numerous clippings she had written the following: "On this 6th day of February, 1876, I consecrate myself and all I have anew to the Lord. Many years I have been His; but I renew my covenant. All I have,--all my affections, all my wealth (what I have), all my labors, as far as I can understand, are His, to be used for His glory."
Mark, she says: "I consecrate myself, _anew_." She had been the Lord's before, for many years, and she now makes no new covenant, but she _renews_ the old covenant. This was in strict accord with all her previous life, and although she advanced far towards the heights of holiness, she always turned away from the theory of special sanctification, regarding it as an error in doctrine and an unreality in experience; and yet none could have gone farther in consecration than herself. Every word of this declaration is solemn and sincere, and this consecration is without reserve. Here then is what she means by having laid her children on the altar and not daring to take them off.
During her remaining days my oldest sister writes: "She seemed more devoted, more perfected to our Heavenly Father's will than ever."
Notwithstanding her feebleness she regularly attended the church on Sabbath mornings, and met the Sunday-school teachers once a week, going over the lessons and giving much valuable instruction. After the dismission of the morning service on Sabbath, she regularly met her class, and my sister, whose seat was near hers, writes: "Every Sunday she would say, 'I am trying to _live_ a Christian; I wish to die a Christian and see what the end of a Christian life will be.' On the last Sunday she met the class, which was just one week and four days before she died--she seemed if possible, more devoted than usual and her words impressed me much. I did not think then that I should never hear her speak in class again."
My mother had read the Scriptures with great care and was not fully persuaded that infant baptism was therein taught, and although a Methodist, she hesitated to give her children to God and the church in this ordinance. Of her six children not one was baptised in infancy, nor did she teach them to "say prayers." It required great faith to depart from so general a custom, but being taught of God, she dared to do it. The reader will observe in my brother's poem, which actually reproduces the scenes of our childhood, that there is no picture of a child with clasped hands kneeling down and lisping his evening prayer by his mother's knee. No such picture was common there. Early in the days of her life as a mother she abandoned the custom. Prayerless the six children went to bed, and prayerless they went to their daily tasks, and this not through negligence but through principle. She thought "saying prayers" a grave species of trifling; and, as father worked sometimes nights and sometimes days, regularity in family prayer, if desired, could not be had. I am not certain that _it was desired_. Religion, not even in its forms, was forced upon the children but on the contrary it was rendered so attractive, that the children of that household would crowd around that mother in the evening and tease her to tell them a story. The story would always be told just before bed-time and would be likely to end with a solemn appeal to our consciences, the reading of a chapter from the old family Bible, a prayer and then all the children were hurried to bed.
This was not a nightly occurrence, but seemed wholly dependent upon our asking. The stories were always from the Bible and to our little minds were wonderfully well told; often filling us with such hatred toward bad men, that on seeing their pictures we would wish to destroy them, and making us cry over those that had suffered.
Such was the character of the religious training she gave her household. I wish it were possible to obtain one of those stories just as she told it. The nearest approach to anyone of them is the little story about "SELF" told with her pen many years later, when writing was to her a great difficulty, to two of her grandchildren. While it may be interesting, I am sure it bears but a faint comparison to those that her own children heard in their childhood from her own lips.
I had thought to pass over this part of my mother's work for fear it might not be understood; or that others attempting to imitate her herein might suffer great loss in their families. Where the religious care of the children is left to the mother, and she is not specially gifted, it is perhaps better to teach by rote and by form; but where conditions are otherwise, it is better to teach the children directly the doctrines of religion and let them make their own forms.
Religion and reverence for God and sacred things, then becomes a part of their nature and is more likely to be sincere.
Looking upon this life, shall we ask what there is in it which has won so much Christian admiration and entitles it to so much praise. I answer, it is found in her sincerity, purity and unconquerable faith.
She believed God and believed every word of God. It is found in her abundant Scriptural knowledge qualifying her to believe intelligently; in her knowledge of persons acquired by habits of close observation; her knowledge of history and the natural sciences, and her general acquaintance with literature. These accomplishments united to the most modest demeanor, rendered her a woman of note and a Christian for whom any community, church or age might have been grateful. It is not mine to estimate her worth or paint her character. The homage which I bear her makes all praise seem tame. No words of mine can portray the excellencies which I attribute her. I leave therefore, the work of determining her great moral and Christian worth to more competent and less partial judges. To be permitted to wreathe any name with such garlands as are brought by the learned, the eloquent and the honored whose names adorn this book, is sufficient privilege to me. Her earthly fame I entrust to their keeping and through them to posterity.
She enjoyed the testimony while on earth that her works pleased God and to Him who was her solace and stay in life, and her rod and staff in death; who gave her those shining qualities of head and heart, and preserved her to a life of usefullness, I commend not in hopeless sorrow but in hope of a glorious reunion her immortal and unburdened soul.
My task is done. I lay the tribute humble as it is, and as I feel it is, upon the fresh grave of my departed mother. May her example, her words, her suffering, her triumph, serve as happy angels, calling us to a higher and holier life, and to that reward which awaits on the other side the gates. Hear her words when entering death's vale: "The gates are hard to open, but there's _glory on the other side_!" Glory on the other side! And hard as it may have seemed to open the gates when at some distance, I doubt not as she drew near them that they opened of their own accord!
REMINISCENCE OF THE LIFE AND DEATH OF Mrs. Rebecca Steward,
BY BISHOP JABEZ P. CAMPBELL, D. D.
MRS. REBECCA STEWARD, wife of James Steward, was the daughter of Benjamin and Phoebe Gould, of Bridgeton, Cumberland County, N. J. She was born May 2d, 1820. Her father, Benjamin Gould, was the son of Abijah Gould, whose father's name was Benjamin, who was either the son or grandson of Elizabeth, a granddaughter of Sir John Fenwick, one of the proprietors of New Jersey in its early colonial times.
Rebecca, the subject of this sketch, was married to James Steward in 1838, by the Rev. Vansant, of the M. E. Church.
The fruit of this marriage were six children; a boy and a girl alternately, all of whom are now living.
The early educational advantages of Mrs. Steward were those afforded by the township school. Here she became a good English scholar, and supplemented the instruction, thus received, by extensive reading; so that she became proficient, both as a writer and a conversationalist.
She was converted and joined the A. M. E. Church, at Gouldtown, in 1846.
In 1869 commenced her physical suffering, which, at times was so acute, as to carry her to the very portal of the grave. What she said upon religious subjects was of the most earnest character. When her children were even very young, it was her usual custom to read to them from the Bible such portions as would impress upon their minds the divine lessons of this Holy Book; and instil into their plastic hearts, "line upon line, and precept upon precept;" and, after thus reading and explaining, she would kneel with them and plead with God to guide them by His heavenly Light!
One evening, in the midst of these devout exercises, and while asking God for His guidance, her husband entered the room, and then and there, for the first time, bowed in prayer with his family.
But a short time after this occurrence, her husband and Mr. Abel Lee, the father of President Lee, of Wilberforce University, were both converted and united with the Church.
Lamartine relates in his opening chapter of his "Voyage to the Holy Land," that the desire, to make the journey, was awakened in his mind by his mother's Bible lessons. He stated that his reward for a good lesson, was to be permitted to see the pictures of an illustrated Bible, and hear from his good mother's lips the history and explanations of these pictures. Is it necessary to be said, that we can see the effect of Rebecca Steward's Bible lessons upon the minds of her children, in giving them an impulse to seek for things divine?
From 1869 to 1872, two of her sons were in the South, one in Georgia and the other in Florida, viz.: William and Theophilus (Rev. T. G.