THE GRACE OF GOD MANIFESTED. MEMOIR OF MRS. DICKINSON. To the Editor of the Methodist Magazine. That an account of the late Mrs. DICKENSON, of Leeds, the subject of the following Memoir, should have been so long withheld from the publick, has been a source of serious regret to her numerous relatives and friends. Some of these have, since her death, been gathered home, and have doubtless heard from herself, in paradise, in a minute and authentic manner, those details of the goodness of God towards her, which they would gladly have perused, even in an imperfect form, before their removal hence. Nor has the anxiety of the survivors, especially of those among them who were most nearly related to Mrs. D. been diminished by a long delay, for which various reasons might be assigned, but which it is not necessary either to vindicate or to excuse. It is in compliance with the earnest solicitations of some of her children, for whom I have a fraternal esteem, that the following sketch is written. I lament that the duty has devolved upon one who is so inadequate to do justice to so excellent a person; for though Mrs. D. was personally known to myself for several years, yet it was principally at a time of life when the thoughtlessness of childhood, and the volatility of youth, precluded those observations which are requisite to the delineation of character, and the appreciation of worth. With all its defects, however, this short account of her experience, character, and death, is submitted to yourself, and, with your permission, to the publick, through the medium of your Magazine, with sincere prayers that it may be attended with the Divine blessing.-I am, Rev. and dear Sir, your's respectfully and affectionately, R. WOOD. The commencement of an existence which is to be perpetuated through endless duration, furnishes an interesting subject of meditation to a contemplative mind. When a stately vessel is launched into the bosom of the deep, conjectural thought is immediately carried forward, in an almost endless train, to the probable voyages it may make-the countries it may visit-the storms it may encounter-and the perils it may escape. But it is certain that ultimate destruction must await it; and that however long it may be continued to its successive owners, yet, in the issue, if it be neither ingulphed in the ocean, nor wrecked upon the shore, from the perishable materials of which it is constructed it must sink into irreparable decay. When a human being is launched upon the ocean of life, a similar train of fleeting images may pass through the mind; but with this difference,-an existence has commenced which shall never terminate-which shall never be wholly suspended for a moment. And when it is recollected, that the future state of such a being, his interminable bliss or wretchedness, is to be determined by the actions, comparatively speaking, of a few of his earliest hours, which constitute his probationary term, those actions assume an importance of which, otherwise, they would be altogether destitute. And as there is a continuity in human actions-as every cccurrence in life is a link in one extended chain-however the last may differ from the first in form, in strength, and in value, each transaction must have an important connection with that which immediately precedes, and that which immediately follows it. To enable us rightly to estimate the subject of any biographical sketch, therefore, it seems expedient that the dispositions manifested in childhood-the prominent bents of the mind-and the indicative actions of the life, should be faithfully recorded. It is but seldom, however, that this can be accomplished. Children themselves are > unaccustomed to make just observations; senior contemporaries are often as unobservant as they; and parents, when qualified for a task for which they possess the greatest facilities, and in the execution of which they are the most deeply interested, either not anticipating the future excellence of their offspring, however ardently they may desire it; or dying before their children reach the most interesting periods of their lives, too often leave it unperformed. This latter was the case with Robert and Ann Thornton, the parents of the subject of this Memotr, Their daughter Eleanor, afterwards Mrs. Dickinson, was born May 3, 1747, at Horsforth, near Leeds. The heaviest loss a female infant can sustain, she suffered in early life, her mother died when she was only three years old. In five years afterwards her father also was removed by death. And thus, before she reached the tender age of nine, she was left to feel all the inconveniences, and to taste all the bitterness of orphanage. "For her no father's bosom Throbb'd to soft sympathy and fond alarm; No mother's arm preserv'd her tender blossom, Or screen'd her weakness from life's gath'ring storm." But when her father and mother forsook her, then the Lord took her up. He, who kindly condescends to make the widows and the fatherless his special charge, encircled her with the arms of his compassionate care, and became her father and her God. : Habits are often acquired in youth which form the character in after life hence it has been poetically observed, that "the child is but the father of the man." Although but little is known of the early life of Mrs. D. yet, deducing our inferences according to the above rule, from her subsequent uniform piety, we should form the most favourable opinions concerning it. Nor would such inferential opinion be very remote from the truth, as her own statements have testified. Early in the day of life "the true light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world," beamed upon her heart. That Holy Spirit which is sent by the Saviour, to "convince the world of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment," seriously and deeply impressed upon her mind the dread concerns of an eternal world. By the death of her father she was incited to diligence in reading the Scriptures, and praying in private; and in these devotional exercises she experienced much pleasure. About this time, He who "in dreams, or visions of the night, sometimes openeth the ears of men, and sealeth instruction," thus visited her; and, by exhibiting to her terrified imagination the solemn pomp, the awful process, and the momentous decisions of the judgment day, made a deep and lasting impression upon her mind. Holy and resolute purposes to become a devoted servant of the Lord were formed in her heart; and it is probable, that, had her knowledge of her duty been equal to her desire to perform it, she would thenceforward have been a serious, steady character. But, being destitute of the advantages of religious instruction, and consequently ignorant of "the righteousness of God," she sought to establish a righteousnes of her own. She became very circumspect in her outward conduct, increasingly diligent in secret prayer and reading her Bible, and was regular and constant in her attendance upon the worship of God in the Established Church. In the punctual performance of these duties she flattered herself that she had now reached a state of safety. But her false peace was frequently disturbed by painful misgivings; she felt within herself strong propensities to pride and self-will. By these she was repeatedly overcome, and rendered very unhappy; and, from a consciousness that these alone were sufficient to unfit her for heaven, she was often led to call upon God, by prayer, for pardon. Such were the workings of Divine grace upon her heart while yet a child. When about 14 years of age she received confirmation by the imposition of Episcopal hands; and, by this ordinance, her mind was much affected. The confirmation service she perused with great attention; and, sensible of the increased responsibility she had taken upon herself, in publickly renewing her baptismal vow; and feeling herself bound, by the most sacred obligations, "to renounce the devil and all his works, the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, and all the sinful lusts of the flesh," she resolved thenceforward to live to God in such a manner as she had not done. For this purpose she committed to memory prayers adapted to every circumstance in which she thought it possible for her to be placed. These she regularly used as exigencies required, and thought herself very good. In this cloak of self-righteousness she closely wrapped herself up for several years; and, by her strict external observance of all moral and relative duties, commanded the respect, and insured the esteem, of those who witnessed her conduct. A little before she completed her 21st year, she was invited to attend the preaching of the gospel among the Methodists. To this, as the Methodists were then a despised and persecuted people, she felt a strong objection; but after a while consented, like Nicodemus, to go in an evening, when she thought she should be less observed than in the open day. Under the first sermon she ever heard from a Methodist Preacher, the late Mr. Hanby, she was powerfully convinced that, during her whole life, while busily engaged in establishing her own righteousness, she "had not submitted herself to the righteousness of God;" and that all her prayers, and supposed good deeds, were unavailable to her salvation. Of her it might now be truly said, "Behold, she prayeth." And it is somewhat singular, that from the hour in which her mind was enlightened, and in which she began to pray aright, she entirely lost all recollection of the forms of prayer she had used before, and never could remember them again. From this time she regularly attended upon a Methodist Ministry, and became increasingly athirst for God. That her repentance was genuine, she proved by bringing forth "fruits meet for repentance." Every impropriety in her conduct or appearance, as soon as she was made sensible of it, was immediately laid aside; and among these, fondness for dress, which had been her greatest besetment. A very simple circumstance helped to dissolve this potent charm. By staying, on one occasion, to adjust some part of her apparel that was not quite to her mind, she lost the opportunity of hearing a sermon. A friend, on her return from the chapel, said to her, "O what have you been doing? What a sermon you have missed!" Her conscience instantly smote her. She thought-the Lord knows what I have been doing. From that time all superfluity of dress was dropped, nor was she ever afterwards ensnared by this too common evil. As yet, however, she was a perfect stranger to "the knowledge of salvation by the remission of sins;" but the day of liberty drew near. The same friend by whom she had been brought under the word, invited her to attend a class-meeting. She went, feeling her heart, to use her own expression," as hard as the nether mill-stone." As she entered the room the leader was giving out the following verse "More hard than marble is my heart, And foul with sins of deepest stain, But thou the mighty Saviour art, Ah, soften, melt this rock, and may Thy blood wash all these stains away." By these lines, so exactly descriptive of her state, she was greatly affected, and strove to conceal her emotions by shrinking into the most obscure corner of the room. During the meeting her mind was most earnestly engaged in prayer; and before its conclusion she was enabled to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ with the heart unto righteousness, and to rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory. From that happy moment to her death she ever retained a sense of her acceptance with God. Although she met with some opposition and persecution from several of her former friends, who had thought her conduct sufficiently exemplary before she joined the Methodists, and who were now ready to pronounce her "righteous overmuch," yet she steadily and uniformly maintained her piety and her profession, alike unmoved by threatening or intreaty. Her conscience was remarkably tender; careful to regulate it by the Word of God, she never swerved from its dictates. The injunctions or prohibitions of this faithful monitor were, therefore, from a sense of duty, promptly obeyed. And thus, happy in the enjoyment of God, and conscientious in the discharge of the duties of her station, she continued "walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord, blameless," and without any peculiar or uncommon incidents, for six successive years. At the expiration of that period, in the year 1773, she exchanged the single for the married state. Following at once the dictates of prudence and the directions of God, she married "in the Lord;" uniting herself to Mr. Abraham Dickinson, of Leeds, a steady upright member of the Methodist society. Here we should follow Mrs. D. into the most active, and, doubtless, the most interesting part of her life, were we only more fully acquainted with it; but the remanks of our great moralist have been verified in this, as in a thousand other instances: "The incidents which give excellence to biography are of a volatile and evanescent kind, such as soon escape the memory, and are rarely transmitted by tradition. Lives can only be written from personal knowledge, which is growing every day less, and in a short time is lost for ever. What is known can seldom be immediately told; and when it might be told, it is no longer known. The delicate features of the mind, the nice discriminations of character, and the minute peculiarities of conduct, are soon obliterated." But, though the finer features may be irrecoverably lost, the general outline yet remains. Entering at once upon the busy scenes of a domestic life, and experiencing additional cares from the world, as well as from her family engagements, Mrs. D. soon found that a much larger measure of grace than that which she had obtained, was indispensably requisite to enable her to pass through all her various exercises, both of body and mind, with becoming fortitude and 2 * Johnson's Life of Addison. |