CITY-ROAD MAGAZINE. AUGUST, 1874. MEMORIAL SKETCH OF MARTHA FERN. BY THE REV. BENJAMIN SMITH. (Concluded from our last Number.) WHILE Martha was earnestly seeking the welfare of those living around her dwelling, she was not unmindful of those residing within that dwelling. Concerning her husband there was a frequent and exciting alternation between hope and fear through several years. Some of their children were removed by death in their youth, and, amid such grief as loving mothers thus bereaved can only feel, she rejoiced in anticipation of a reunion in a happier world. Of those spared there was but one who was the occasion of distress to his mother, James, their only surviving son. Possibly he may have inherited a liking for strong drink from his father, or may have been injured by the example of that father when he yielded to temptation. To Martha's indescribable grief, he became while young the slave of intemperance. The godly and loving mother employed her utmost efforts to restrain her lad from the downward course. By means of gentleness and firmness she long retained control over his waywardness when he was at home. She was accustomed to take him to her chamber that she might there, weeping, speak to him of his sin and danger, and pray that he might have strength to resist the tempter. These appeals and prayers he came greatly to dread. He would exclaim, "Mother, do anything at me, except talk to me in that way, and pray, and cry so. I can stand anything but that." The lad must however go forth to earn his share of the daily bread, and he formed intimate association with ungodly young men. It would scarcely be fair to them to assert that they led him wrong. No doubt they mutually hardened each other. But he was not one to be led. He had inherited great energy and considerable ability and was fitted to be a leader of men. Alas, that he became a ringleader of transgressors! At length he habitually came home in an intoxicated state, and would use the vilest and most provoking language to his parents. But the patience of his mother could not be overcome. She abhorred the evil of his doings, but she never ceased to love her child. Her charity could not be provoked. Often in the presence of that Christ-like meekness the furious young man would become gentle and even penitent and self-accusing. Mother," he VOL. IV. FIRST SERIES. 66 would say, "I cannot understand you. How is it that nothing I do or say drives you into a passion?" Alas! he would soon taste the strong liquor again and become maddened by it. nothing else she could pray. Often did she thus intercede When the distressed mother could do Daily did she plead for her unhappy son. when alone with God, and often with her daughter kneeling beside her. In agony would she cry, "O God, shall a child of mine live and die in sin, and perish everlastingly?" She seemed at length driven by her anguish to supplicate the Lord that He would use any means He might choose, so that He would save the miserable prodigal from sin and hell. was heard and answered. That cry The young man had been heedless of his health. Whether engaged in his daily task, often working as an excavator, or drinking to excess and seeking gratification in vice, he exercised no prudential restraint. His vigorous health gave way, and he lay in the home of his parents in utter feebleness and much pain. It soon became apparent that the sickness was likely to prove fatal, although it might be protracted. It was not probable, however long he might linger, that he would be able to resume his place in the tavern; or be permitted to enter the house of God which he had wilfully neglected. The stricken transgressor saw the sepulchre before him, and knew that when the body returned to the dust, the spirit would return to God Who gave it. He was appalled. After a time alarm and remorse led to a cry for help. He had felt as though it would be of no use to pray, but at length strove to ask for mercy. Ceaselessly did the loving mother now plead for her distressed son. Yet no answer of peace was given to his tortured heart. Day succeeded day, month followed month, a whole year had passed, and the sufferer, now evidently fast sinking, was miserable on account of his sin and danger, and crying for mercy. Some nights were spent almost without sleep by the mother who perceived that her child must speedily die and had no good hope. Each of these suppliants was tempted to give up the struggle, yet maintained it hour by hour. James was often on the verge of despair; there seemed no God to hear his cry. If, at times, while his mother was speaking of the dying love of Jesus, or he was trying to dwell on the promises made to the vilest of transgressors through the sacrifice of Christ, a ray of light did penetrate his mind, his sins would be at once so placed in array against him as to hide the Cross from his view, or the evil within would be so aroused that it appeared as though he was now irrevocably bound by the chain of his sins. Was it so that God had finally cast him off, and given him up to the hardness of his heart and to the perdition he had merited? James was repeatedly aroused from such paralysis of despair by the sight of his mother. If ready to give up effort and abide the consequences, he was stimulated by the spectacle of his mother's anxiety expressed in her features and in the cry, "Shall any one of my children be cast out? Lord save my poor lad!" Besides, the guilty one could not absolutely despair while one whom he regarded as so saintly had been spared to intercede on his behalf. The mother herself was greatly distressed. A full year had passed since James was stricken with disease, and yet he had not found his way to the Saviour. With all her large views of God's mercy to poor sinners through the atoning blood, and with the encouragement arising from repeated answers to prayer even in cases which appeared desperate, she at times was ready to despond. But, however sorrowful, she pressed near to the mercy-seat. Often did James declare to his sister and others: "Had it not been for my mother, I should have been in hell before this! God spared my life in answer to her prayers. Vile as I have been there has been some degree of restraint on me. I cannot give up while I see her, and hear her prayers for me." Sixteen months had passed since the boisterous pleasure-seeker had been arrested by strong disease. It was quite evident that he was rapidly sinking; indeed it was not likely that he could survive many days longer, and he had received no Divine assurance, satisfactory to his own heart, that his sins were forgiven. Must they strive to content themselves after his departure with a hopeful inference from the change they had seen? Would the Lord grant them more? Godly people who greatly respected Martha, and deeply sympathised with her in this anxiety, visited James, and joined the little family group in prayer. Intercession went up now from that cottage-home, almost without ceasing. Once again the morning dawned!-the last day that James was to witness on earth. The sufferer seems to have had some presentiment that such would be the case: indeed all could perceive that the end was at hand. The dying young man looked towards his mother with an expression of helpless grief on his face, and said, " O, mother, what shall I do? I dare not say that I am saved. I do not feel that the Lord has forgiven me. But I must die soon. O, mother, what must I do?" She could only reply, "Look to Jesus, my lad: He can save to the uttermost, and save just now! Do not depend on feelings, my lad, but look to Jesus, and believe on Him, and the Lord will save you." After a moment's thought she added, "Here is the hymn-book. Open it and read, looking to Jesus all the time. God has blessed me times without number while doing so. May He thus bless you, my lad, now." She gave the hymn-book to him, and went up stairs. A little time elapsed. Suddenly she heard the voice of her son calling aloud, "Mother! mother! mother!" Martha's heart throbbed with new hopefulness. That was not the tone in which her dying son had been accustomed to speak. There was a new ring in it, as though a strange life and joy had been imparted. Quickly did she reach his bed |