Annual Monitor for 1851
p. 21Thomas Dunbabbin, Chorlton-on-Medlock. 68 3mo.
29 1850
Charlotte Edmundson, Kingstown,
Dublin. Widow of Joshua Edmundson. 76 10mo. 18 1849
Jane Eustace, Hampstead, Dublin.
56 12mo. 10 1849
Robert Farr, Birmingham. Died at
Worcester. 36 3mo. 10 1850
Anne Fayle, Enniscorthy. Widow of
Josiah Fayle. 54 1mo. 18 1850
Eleanor Fell, Uxbridge. Wife of John
Fell. 41 10mo. 15 1849
Susannah Fern, Rochdale. Widow of
Joseph Fern. 76 7mo. 24 1850
Susanna Finch, Reading. 78 12mo. 6
1849
Susannah Fincher, Evesham. Widow of
John Fincher. 78 12mo. 16 1849
Sarah Maria Fisher, Newport,
Tipperary. Daughter of Benjamin C. and Mary Fisher. 18 4mo.
16 1850
Sarah Fowler, Higher Broughton,
Manchester. Widow of William Fowler. 87 6mo. 28 1850
p. 22Catherine Fox, Rushmere, Ipswich. An
Elder. Wife of Thomas Fox. 62 10mo. 6 1849
Elizabeth Freelove, London. Wife of
James Freelove. 40 12mo. 17 1849
Lucy Freeth, Birmingham. 53 1mo. 19
1850
Ann Fuller, Yarmouth. Widow of John
Fuller. 77 5mo. 20 1850
Anne Gale, Racketstown, Ballynakill,
Ireland. Widow. 73 6mo. 10 1850
John Gauntley, Bakewell. 72 7mo. 28
1850
Mary Cooke Geldart, Norwich. Wife of
Joseph Geldart. 55 5mo. 24 1850
Robert Goswell Giles, Oldford,
Middlesex. An Elder. 80 8mo. 23 1849
Joseph Gillett, Banbury. Son of Joseph
A. and Martha Gillett. 21 3mo. 2 1850
Thomas Goodyear, Adderbury. 75 8mo. 14
1850
Benjamin Goouch, Greenville, county
Kilkenny. 84 5mo. 2 1850
Isabella Grace, Bristol. Daughter of
Josiah and Mary Grace. 9 9mo. 28 1850
Elizabeth Green, Trummery,
Ballinderry. Widow of Thomas Green. 96 4mo. 8 1850
p. 23Ellen Green, Gildersome, Yorkshire. Widow
of David Green. 70 4mo. 25 1850
Mary Greenwood, Stones,
Todmorden. 72 11mo. 12 1849
James Greenwood, Plaistow. 79 5mo. 9
1850
Thomas Grimes, Chelsea. 52 5mo. 20
1850
Abraham Grubb, Merlin, Clonmel.
73 11mo. 7 1849
John Gulson, Leicester. 89 5mo. 26
1850
Thomas Hagger, Hoddesdon. 85 7mo. 11
1850
Rachel Hall, Greysouthen,
Cumberland. 69 1mo. 30 1850
Mary Harker, Bristol. Widow of John
Harker. 81 11mo. 5 1849
Adam Harker, Darlington. 76 4mo. 3
1850
Margaret Harker, Cowgill, Dent,
Yorkshire. Wife of Thomas Harker. 63 2mo. 23 1850
Mary Harris, Peckham Rye. Wife of John
Harris. 61 10mo. 7 1849
John Harrison, Poole, Dorset.
Son of Samuel and Sarah Harrison. 3 9mo. 29 1849
Elizabeth Harrison, Southgate,
Middlesex. 60 3mo. 26 1850
p. 24Mary Hartas, Sinnington Grange, near Kirby,
Yorkshire. A Minister. Widow of Thomas Hartas. 74 3mo.
2 1850
John Hartas, Westerdale, Castleton,
Yorkshire. 49 9mo. 26 1850
William Hartley, Dunfermline, near
Edinburgh. 43 4mo. 23 1850
John Haslem, Rosenalis,
Mountmelick. 81 1mo. 5 1850
Mary Hawksworth, Thorne. Wife of John
Hawksworth. 64 1mo. 5 1850
Ellen Haworth, Todmorden. Wife of
William Haworth. 57 12mo. 10 1849
Benjamin Hayllar, Dorking. 83 10mo. 6
1849
Hannah Hayton, Penrith. 70 3mo. 24
1850
Mary Ann Head, Ipswich. 33 4mo. 18
1850
Ann Herbert, Tottenham. 72 9mo. 24
1849
Isaac Hewitson, Penrith. 82 8mo. 28
1850
Elizabeth Hill, Hillsborough,
Ireland. 87 9mo. 18 1849
Richard Ivey Hocking, Truro. 49 10mo. 5
1849
Mary Hodgkin, Shipston-on-Stour. 78
12mo. 8 1849
p. 25James Hogg, Portadown Grange, Ireland. 51
1mo. 2 1850
Ann Holmes, Huddersfield. 31 5mo. 21
1850
Sarah Hoowe, Edenderry. 67 8mo. 30
1850
Martha Horne, Tottenham. An
Elder. 85 9mo. 2 1850
Elizabeth Horsfall, Leeds. 50 1mo. 17
1850
Richard Horsnaill, Dover. 48 7mo. 23
1850
In endeavouring to pursue faithfully the path of manifested duty, we believe
it was peculiarly the aim of this dear friend, "to do justly, to love mercy, and
to walk humbly with his God." He was of a very diffident disposition, and
cautious in giving expression to his religious feelings, lest he should thereby
make a profession beyond what he thought his attainments warranted.
For many years he laboured under a disease, which was attended with much
suffering; but this proved a means of weaning him from the world and its
pursuits, and of inducing him more earnestly to "seek first the kingdom of God
and his righteousness," with the unshaken belief that all things necessary would
be added.
He manifested a deep interest in the prosperity of our religious Society, and
according to his p.
26measure, especially in the latter part of his life, willingly devoted
himself to its service. He likewise took great delight in promoting the
best interests of the juvenile portion of the population in the neighbourhood in
which he resided; and the counsel he gave to those of this class, often gained
their good will and respectful attention. He also exhibited a very humane
disposition toward the animal creation, and rarely allowed a case of
ill-treatment or oppression to pass without attempting to redress the wrongs
inflicted. For some years, he took great interest in supplying the crews
of foreign vessels, resorting to the port of Dover, with copies of the holy
Scriptures and religious tracts; and from his kind and unassuming manners, his
efforts were almost universally well received.
His last illness, of four months’ duration, was attended with extreme bodily
suffering; but the nature of his complaint being very obscure, he entertained a
hope that he might be restored to his former state of health, and expressed some
anxiety for length of days, in order that he might be more useful to his
fellow-creatures. But as his strength declined, this desire gave way to
quiet submission p.
27to the will of his God; and it was evident, that his soul was anchored
upon that Rock, which alone can support in the hour of trial.
Soon after he was taken ill, he remarked in allusion to his business, that he
had thought it right in one instance, to decline the execution of an order,
where more display of taste was required, than he could feel satisfied with; and
this sacrifice, with some others of a similar kind, had afforded him peace:
adding, "I do want to come clean out of Babylon." He said, the language
had been much upon his mind: "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash
me, and I shall be whiter than snow:" and also the words of our Saviour,—"If I
wash thee not, thou hast no part with me."
Being in great pain, he said,—"You must pray for me, that my patience may
hold out; I have indeed need of your prayers, for my sufferings are very great;
but, bye and bye, perhaps I may be able to say, I have not had one pang too
many." At another time, he supplicated thus: "Merciful Father, be pleased
to grant me a little ease, O! Thou that makest the storm a calm, and sayest to
the waves, Peace be still." Soon after p. 28which he lay quiet; and whilst
tears of gratitude flowed down his cheeks, he said, "Do not disturb me; all is
stillness,—what a mercy!"
On one occasion, when feeling exceedingly depressed, he remarked, that the
vessels he had visited, and the poor sailors were brought mentally to view, one
after another, with much sweetness, and whilst he took no merit to himself, he
desired to encourage others to do what they could for the good of the
poor. At another time, after giving instructions to one of his sisters, to
make some selection of tracts for the sailors on board a German vessel, then
lying in the harbour, he observed: "Oh, what a field of labour there is! how I
do wish that some one would take this up, for I feel as though I should be able
to do very little more in it."
His mind, during his illness, seemed filled with love and gratitude. He
remarked, "I never felt so much love before, both to my family and friends; I do
believe this illness will bind us more closely together than ever." And
again: "Oh, how kind you are to wait upon me so; the Lord will reward
you!" At another time, he said, "I had not thought to have been taken p. 29at this time
of my life, but I am in such a critical state, that life hangs on a thread;—the
pains of the body are what I seem most to dread."
On inquiring one day, where that line was to be found, "At ease in his
possessions," he remarked, "I do not think I have been at ease in mine, I have
endeavoured to live loose to them." A hope being expressed that his
illness would be sanctified to him, he quickly replied, "Yes, and not to me
only, but to all of you." He gave some directions, in the event of his
death, with much composure, observing: "It seems an awful thing for me to say
thus much, but a great favour to be so free from anxiety." In the night he
was heard to say: "No merit of mine, it is all of mercy, free unmerited
mercy!" On a young man in his employment coming to assist him, previous to
going to his own place of worship, when about to leave the room, he thus
addressed him: "Mind and make a good use of the time, and do not be afraid of
looking into thy own heart, but suffer the witness to come in and speak, whether
it be in the language of encouragement or reproof. Many persons go to
their places of worship, where much of the time is spent in singing and in
music, which p.
30please the outward ear, but this is not religion! It is when we
are brought to see ourselves as we really are, sinners in the sight of a holy
God, that we are led to seek a Saviour, and to cry, in sincerity, ‘A Saviour, or
I die! A Redeemer, or I perish for ever!’"
On its being remarked to him, that it was consolingly believed, he was one of
those who had endeavoured to occupy with his talent, which, if only one, it was
hoped, had gained an increase, he replied,—"That will only be known at the great
day of account, when weighed in the balance."
On Seventh-day evening preceding his decease, he remarked to a beloved
relative, that it seemed the safest for him to say but little in regard to his
own attainments, adding,—"My desire is, for a continuance of kind
preservation." And on the day before his death, he remarked with
gratitude, that his intellects had been preserved clear throughout his
illness. During the night, he was much engaged in prayer; his bodily
powers were fast sinking, but his mind appeared preserved in peaceful
serenity. In the morning, he expressed a desire that his sister would
remain by him, affectionately p. 31inquired for his father, and soon after, we reverently
believe, exchanged a state of suffering for one of never-ending rest and joy, in
the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
Albert George Horsnaill, Rochester. Son
of George and Maria Horsnaill. 4 5mo. 22 1850
James Hotham, Leeds. 44 2mo. 7 1850
John Hull, Ramsgate. Died at
Cheltenham. 55 6mo. 3 1850
Mary Hunt, Almondsbury. A
Minister. Widow of James Hunt. 79 12mo. 7 1849
David Hurst, West Houghton,
Lancashire. 35 2mo. 19 1850
Hannah Irwin, Deptford. Wife of Thomas
Irwin. 55 2mo. 9 1850
John Clark Isaac, Studminster, Newton,
Marnhull. 67 2mo. 12 1850
Elizabeth Pim Jacob, Newlands,
Dublin. Daughter of the late Joseph Jacob. 17 10mo. 30
1849
Elizabeth Jacobs, Folkstone. Widow of
Jacob Jacobs. 76 6mo. 9 1850
Caroline Jacobs, Maidstone. Daughter of
Jacob and Lydia Jacobs. 6 8mo. 15 1850
p. 32Mary Ann Jefferies, Melksham. Daughter of Thomas
and Martha Jefferies. 38 12mo. 14 1849
Emma Jeffrey, Folkstone. Daughter of
the late John and Eliza Jeffrey. 11 10mo. 6 1849
Sarah Jephcott, Coventry. Wife of Enoch
Jephcott. 72 3mo. 26 1850
Samuel Jones, Hoxton. 39 5mo. 10
1850
Sarah Jones, Hereford. Daughter of
Joseph Jones. 22 7mo. 17 1850
Judith King, Castle Donington. 86 8mo.
11 1850
John Leslie, Wells, Norfolk. 66
10mo. 14 1849
Charles Lidbetter, Croydon. Son of
Martin and Elizabeth Lidbetter. 2 2mo. 9 1850
John Little, Alston. 78 3mo. 27
1850
Richard Lynes, Chelsea. 85 1mo. 3
1850
William Lythall, Baddesley,
Warwickshire. 68 3mo. 13 1850
Ann Malcomson, Milton, Ireland.
Widow of Thomas Malcomson. 79 7mo. 2 1850
William Mally, Preston. 77 7mo. 23
1850
Joseph Marriage, Chelmsford. 76 12mo. 8
1849
p. 33William Marsh, Ashton, Lancashire. 50
10mo. 1 1849
Rebecca Marsh, Dorking. Wife of William
Marsh. 49 10mo. 27 1849
Alfred Marsh, Luton. Son of Robert and
Maria Marsh. 4 8mo. 14 1850
David Marshall, Sheffield. 61 12mo. 9
1849
Jane Mason, Leeds. Wife of George
Mason. 45 10mo. 9 1849
Mary Miles, Peckham. Wife of Edward
Miles. 36 4mo. 1 1850
Susanna Moore, Waterford. 80 8mo. 12
1850
Priscilla Nash, London. Daughter of
William and Rebecca Nash. 17 3mo. 13 1850
Edward Philip Nash, Holt,
Norfolk. Son of Thomas W. and Sarah Nash. 2 4mo. 1 1850
Hannah Neale, Mountmelick. Daughter of
William Neale. 33 3mo. 29 1850
Hannah Neale had an extensive circle of acquaintance, by whom she was much
beloved and esteemed, as being one of a very innocent and blameless life.
Some of the circumstances relating to her, are of a very affecting and
interesting character, and speak loudly the uncertainty of all earthly
prospects. In the summer of last year, she entered p. 34into an engagement of marriage
with a friend residing in England. Having considered the subject with
earnest and sincere desires to act in accordance with best wisdom, she looked
forward to the completion of the prospect with a pleasing and hopeful
confidence, yet even at an early period of the engagement, there was something
that seemed to whisper to her, the uncertainty of its completion.
At this time she appeared in her usual health and full of spirits; but whilst
on a visit to her aunt, at Kingstown, her health became affected, and from this
time, symptoms exhibited themselves, which baffled all medical skill. She
was still, however, hopeful respecting her own recovery, and very often
expressed in her correspondence, how much she was pained by the thought of being
the cause of so much anxiety to others,—that her own sufferings were trifling,
and the comforts surrounding her so numerous, she felt that she had every thing
to be thankful for. It was, however, evident to those around her, that
there was little ground for hope, and a dear friend intimated to her, that her
medical advisers considered her end might possibly be very near. This
intelligence p.
35greatly startled her, but she afterward expressed, how thankful she
felt that she had been honestly apprized of her danger.
The solemn impression then made on her mind, never left her, and her constant
desire was, that she might, through divine mercy, be made meet for the kingdom
of heaven, repeating emphatically, "I have much to do."
She often expressed her great sorrow, that she had not yielded to the serious
impressions with which she had been favoured, saving, "They were soon
scattered;" and regretted much that she had not lived a more devoted life.
She felt herself to be a great sinner, needing a Saviour’s gracious pardon; and
for a long time feared she never should obtain that forgiveness, she so
earnestly longed for. But though her faith was feeble, she endeavoured to
lay hold of encouragement from the mercy extended to the Prodigal Son, and to
the Thief upon the cross, hoping that the same mercy might be extended to
herself; but for a long time, her poor tossed and tried mind "could find nothing
to lean upon." She remarked, she could not feel that she had sinned
against her fellow-creatures, but that she could p. 36adopt the words of the Psalmist:
"Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned," saying, "I feel that I have nothing to
build upon, and that I want every thing; I am not prepared to die, I want all my
sins to be forgiven; I hope I shall not be taken till the work be fully
accomplished." The whole of the 51st Psalm, she said, seemed to suit her
case, and with solemnity repeated, "‘Create in me a clean heart, oh God! and
renew a right spirit within me.’ If I am saved, it will indeed be at the
eleventh hour, I have been such a sinner."
Thus did the Spirit of Truth search all things, and bring this beloved friend
sensibly to feel, as she weightily expressed, "that at such a solemn hour, it
will not do to build upon having led a spotless and innocent life, something
more is then wanted to lean upon." She often observed, how well it was for
those who had given up their hearts to serve their Saviour in the time of
health,—that had she done so, she should not now, in the hour of trial, have had
to feel such deep sorrow of heart,—that she could only hope for mercy and
forgiveness, adding, "If I perish, let it be at Thy footstool."
p. 37As her
bodily weakness increased, she remarked, "I often feel unable to read, or even
to think; but I can cling; this is about as much as I am able to do."
Though this beloved friend took these low views of her own state, her company
was deeply instructive and edifying to those around her, and a heavenly
sweetness marked her deportment. Her heart was often filled with gratitude
to her heavenly Father for the extension of his love and mercy, and she remarked
many times, "I have indeed been mercifully dealt with."
The dear sufferer rapidly declined; yet her mind continued bright, and she
was preserved in a patient, waiting state, fully conscious of the approach of
death, she queried how long it was thought likely she might live? praying,—"Oh!
dear Saviour, may it please thee not to take me till the work be fully
accomplished." She often said, "It is a solemn thing to die;" and the
evening preceding her death, when her friends were watching around her, she
remarked that, believing her end was near, "It felt very, very solemn to
her." At this deeply interesting season, He who is indeed Love,
condescended p.
38in great mercy to draw near, so that she seemed lifted above
terrestrial things, and permitted a foretaste of those joys, of which we
consolingly believe, she now fully participates. Under this precious
influence, her countenance beamed with sweetness, and she emphatically repeated
many times,—"Divine compassion! mighty love!" and raising her hand, exclaimed,
"Oh such love!—such love!—and to me such a sinner; is it not marvellous?"
adding, "a weary burdened soul, oh Lord, am I, but the blood of Jesus can wash
the guilty sinner clean.—Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of
death, I will fear no evil.—Oh how wonderful! hard things have been made easy,
and bitter things sweet."
She remarked that, at such a solemn hour, the world had no relish, "oh no!"
she said, "it is not worth a thought:
‘The world recedes, it disappears,
Heaven opens on my eyes, my
ears.’"
To a young friend whom she tenderly loved, she said, "Oh if we should all
meet in heaven, will it not be delightful? oh! dear ---, we must all come to
this, and nothing will do for any of us but the blood of the Lamb."
p. 39She
continued for some time addressing those around her in this strain; and to the
question of her brother, whether she was happy? she replied, "Yes, indeed, I am
happy." Thus her dying lips seemed to testify, that she was mercifully
brought to see the salvation of God, and that he is able to save to the
uttermost all those who come unto him, through faith in Christ Jesus our
Lord.
Henry Neild, Over Whitley,
Cheshire. An Elder. 59 10mo. 4 1849
In the removal of this beloved friend, we have another instance of the
uncertainty of time, and another call to prepare for the life to come.
Henry Neild left home on the 12th of 9th month, 1849, for the purpose of
attending his Monthly and Quarterly Meetings, at Nantwich; but he was taken ill
in the former meeting, and though relieved by medical aid, it failed to remove
disease, which continued daily to waste his frame, and in little more than three
weeks terminated his earthly pilgrimage; and we thankfully believe, through
redeeming mercy, translated the immortal spirit to "an inheritance
incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away."
p. 40He had long
been a very useful and willing helper in the small Quarterly Meeting, of which
he was a member; and a true sympathizer with the afflicted, taking heed to the
apostolic injunction, "Bear ye one anothers burdens, and so fulfil the law of
Christ." Deep and fervent were his desires for the welfare of our Society,
for the maintenance of all our religious testimonies, and that its members might
be redeemed from the influence and spirit of the world.
In the early part of his illness, he remarked that "it was surprising to
himself, how entirely he could leave all earthly things; he had desired to leave
all to Him who doeth all things well; and to commit himself into the hands of
his dear Saviour."
At another time, he said, "I am very gently and mercifully dealt with, I feel
that I am a poor unfaithful creature, but I consider it a favour to be made
sensible of this, for it is only of divine mercy that we can rightly feel our
need." Thus kept in humble reliance upon the mercy of God, in Christ Jesus
his Saviour, he was permitted to repose on that "Anchor to the soul which is
sure and steadfast," and to cast all his care upon our compassionate and ever
present Redeemer.
p. 41He died at
Nantwich, at the house of Croudson Tunstall, whose own death took place little
more than a month afterwards.
William Newsom, Limerick. 62 6mo. 18
1850
In affixing a few lines to this name, the desire is simply to arrest the
attention of any reader, who may be too closely engaged in temporal things;
giving their strength to that which cannot profit, and not sufficiently
pondering the passing nature of all terrestrial things.
William Newsom had been extensively engaged in commerce through great part of
his life, and there was reason to fear he was unduly absorbed by its cares and
allurements: for the last year or more, he appeared to be becoming more sensible
that disappointment was stamped upon his pursuits; his bodily health heretofore
unbroken, began also to decline, and it was comfortingly believed by his
friends, that this and other revolving circumstances, were tending to turn the
energies of his mind from perishable, to imperishable objects. A few
months before his decease, it became still more evident, that the hand of his
heavenly Father was laid upon him in mercy; and on one occasion, he remarked,
"that he saw p.
42nothing in the world worth living for, it abounded in trouble and
disappointment, all outward things were stained in his eyes, there was nothing
but religion that could be of any avail for any of us; and it mattered not when
we were taken—young, old, or middle aged—if we were but ready, that was the
great point!" His experience, however, during the last few days of his
life shewed, that although the ground might have been prepared, the work was by
no means effected; deep and sore conflict was then his portion, and oh! with
what fervency did he call upon his Saviour, beseeching him in his mercy to be
pleased to look down upon his poor unworthy creature, for he alone could help in
that awful hour. Once he exclaimed, "what could all the world do for me
now?" His wife, under great exercise of spirit, replied, "Nothing! the
best, when laid upon such a bed as thou art, have nothing to look to or depend
upon, but the mercy of the Saviour;" the poor sufferer earnestly pleaded that
that mercy might be extended to him, remarking, "He has all power in heaven and
in earth." He then fervently prayed that the Lord would save his never
dying soul. It is believed, that whilst his many p. 43sins of omission and commission
were brought vividly before his view, by the unflattering witness, he was made
very fully sensible that the great work of salvation rests between the soul of
man and his Creator, and that "no man can redeem his brother, or give to God a
ransom for him." Through the night, he was mostly engaged in prayer, with
uplifted hands invoking for mercy and forgiveness.
Some time before his death, the great conflict of mind he had been under,
appeared to subside, and to be succeeded by a sweet calm, and he intimated to
his wife, that he felt comfortable and satisfied. Till within half an hour
of the close, prayer continued flowing from his lips, the last audible sounds
being an appeal to the Lord; and but a few minutes before he ceased to breathe,
a conscious look at his dear wife, seemed to say, "all is peace;" and it was
granted to her exercised spirit to believe, that the unshackled soul when
released, was received into a mansion of rest, through the mercy and merits of
his Lord and Saviour. In reference to that impressive hour this dear
relative writes,—"Oh! how many times that solemn night, did I long that all the
world could feel the great necessity, whilst in p. 44health and strength, so to live,
as to be prepared for that awful hour, which sooner or later must come upon us
all; it is a very dangerous thing to put off the work of the soul’s salvation to
a deathbed, or to depend upon mercy being extended as at the eleventh hour, for
it may not then be found." Let us then be concerned to work whilst it is
called to-day, and be ready to meet the awful summons,—"Steward give up thy
stewardship, for thou mayest be no longer steward."
Susannah Nickalls, Ashford,
Folkstone. Wife of Thomas Nickalls. 65 6mo. 1 1850
Mary Nicholson, Liverpool. 78 12mo. 14
1849
Mary Ostle, Newtown, Beckfoot,
Cumberland. Widow of Thomas Ostle. 83 12mo. 18 1849
Hannah Palmer, Radway. Widow of William
Palmer. 71 10mo. 17 1849
John Percy, Ballinagore,
Ireland. Son of John and Anna Perry. 3 2mo. 1 1850
Richard Patching, Brighton. 70 2mo. 15
1850
Rachel Pattinson, Felling, near
Newcastle-on-Tyne. Widow of Thomas Pattinson. 59 1mo. 5 1850
p. 45Sophia Gulielma Payne, Lambeth Walk,
Surrey. Daughter of James and Ann Payne. 1 6mo. 7 1850
Elizabeth Pearson, Preston. Daughter of
Daniel and Ann Pearson. 1 7mo. 6 1850
John Pegler, Mangersbury, near Stow,
Warwickshire. 74 7mo. 6 1850
Isabella Peile, Carlisle. Wife of
Thomas Peile. 45 8mo. 1 1850
Francis Edward Penney, Dorking. Died at
Brighton. Son of the late Richard Penney. 22 7mo. 27 1850
Elizabeth Hall Pickard, Bushcliffe House,
Wakefield. Wife of David Pickard. 35 10mo. 30 1849
Hartas Pickard, Bushcliffe House,
Wakefield. Son of David and Elizabeth H. Pickard. 1 11mo. 26
1849
Elizabeth Pierson, Dublin. Daughter of
Joseph Pierson. 25 2mo. 3 1850
Sarah Lydia N. Pike, Derryvale. 6 7mo.
27 1850
Hannah Lecky Pike, Derryvale. Children
of the late James Nicholson and Sarah Pike. 3 9mo. 7 1850
p. 46Elizabeth Pim, Richmond Hill, Dublin. An
Elder. Widow of Jonathan Pim. 63 2mo. 22 1850
Emily Pim, Mountmelick. 4 4mo. 5
1850
Frederick Pim, Mountmelick. Children of
Samuel and Susanna Pim. 1 7mo. 31 1850
Elizabeth Plumley, Tottenham. 72 1mo.
10 1850
Sarah Preston, Earith, Hunts. An
Elder. Widow of Samuel Preston. 79 4mo. 22 1850
John Prichard, Leominster. 86 5mo. 24
1850
Esther Prideaux, Plymouth. Widow of
Philip C. Prideaux. 71 1mo. 8 1850
Jane Prideaux, Kingsbridge.
The decease of this friend is recorded in the Annual Monitor of last
year. We have since been furnished with the following notice of her.
Our beloved friend, Jane Prideaux, died the 26th of the Second month, 1849,
aged 87 years: for many years before her decease, she filled very acceptably the
station of Elder, and therein approved herself a lowly follower of her Lord and
Master. Very precious to her surviving friends, is the remembrance of her
innocent, circumspect walk, holding out as it does in an impressive manner, p. 47the
invitation, "Follow me as I have followed Christ." During the latter years
of her lengthened life, the fruits of her faith became increasingly prominent,
and she was endeared to her friends and neighbours around her in no common
degree. But it was during the last two months of her life, when under
great bodily suffering, that her tongue was more fully set at liberty to declare
the lovingkindness of the Lord, who in this season of trial was graciously
pleased to lift up the light of his countenance upon her, and to grant a full
evidence of acceptance with himself, enabling her to rejoice in the assurance
that when her earthly house of this tabernacle should be dissolved, there would
be granted to her "a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in
the heavens."
Her patient, cheerful endurance of bodily pain was striking and instructive;
and in some seasons of closest conflict, her faith was strong, and her
acknowledgment of the supporting power of God, full and fervent. She often
said, the Lord was able to save and to deliver to the uttermost, and would
deliver her, when patience had had its perfect work. Very
impressive were her short petitions to the p. 48Father of mercies, for his
support and deliverance, accompanied as they constantly were with the addition,
"if consistent with thy will." She remarked, "I am in the hands of an
unerring Creator, He cannot err. We must not look to ourselves, but
to our Saviour, who loved us and gave himself for us—even for me, the
most unworthy of his creatures. He healeth all my diseases, and I have
many, but my mercies outweigh them all." Love and interest for her friends
seemed often to dwell in her heart beyond the power of expression.
Speaking of those who were members of the meeting to which she belonged, she
sent messages to each, and made appropriate remarks respecting them
individually, dwelling with especial comfort on the remembrance of those among
them who were bearing the burden of the day, and labouring to promote their
great Master’s cause. She afterwards said, whilst tears of tenderness
flowed, "Oh! how many comfortable meetings I have had in that little
meeting-house, how have I loved to go and sit there! It was not a little
illness that kept me away: and how has it rejoiced my heart to see individuals
come in, who have been as the anointed and sent!" On being
p. 49told one
morning that Friends were going to meeting, she said, "May they know the Sun of
righteousness to arise as with healing in his wings;" emphatically adding, "I
think they will."
At another time she sent messages of love to many of the members of her
Monthly Meeting, adding with an expression of feeling, to which those around
could not be insensible. "But I cannot name all; my love is universal; God
is love."
One night, when in great pain, she acknowledged in grateful terms, the
kindness of her attendants, and her belief that a blessing with a full
recompense would be given them; and addressing one of them, she continued, "I
love thee tenderly, and feel thee near in the best life—in the truth that is
blessed for ever." Afterwards, she broke forth with an audible voice thus:
"Bless the Lord, oh my soul! and praise him for all his benefits. What can
I do! how shall I praise him enough!" And then, as with melody of soul,
she added,—
"Heavenly blessings without number,
Gently falling on my
head."
After taking an affectionate farewell of those p. 50around her, and addressing them
in an instructive and encouraging manner, she added, "I can heartily say, that
death is robbed of its sting, and the grave of its victory. Thanks be unto
God who giveth the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." And again,
"Praise and magnify the Lord! Oh if I could sing, I would sing his
praise!"
To some beloved relatives, from a distance, who came to see her, she
testified of her faith, hope, and confidence,—acknowledged, that although frail
in body, she was strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might; and
expressed her desire, that they might all meet where partings are not known,
adding, "goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life; and there
is a promise for the poor in spirit that will be fulfilled, ‘When the poor and
needy seek water and there is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst, I the
Lord will hear them, I the God of Israel will not forsake them.’"
She was permitted to pass quietly away without any apparent pain, and is now,
we reverently and thankfully believe, an inhabitant of that city "which hath no
need of the sun, neither of the p. 51moon to shine in it; for the glory of God doth lighten
it, and the Lamb is the light thereof."
David Priestman, Gorton,
Manchester. Son of Henry and Mary Priestman. 3 8mo. 1
1850
Rachel Proud, Scarborough. A
Minister. 77 5mo. 4 1850
William Puckrin, near Whitby. 87 11mo.
27 1849
Ann Pugh, Tyddyn-y-gareg, North
Wales. 90 6mo. 24 1850
Ann Pumphrey, Worcester. 84 4mo. 22
1850
Sarah Racey, Norwich. Widow of Thomas
Racey. 72 11mo. 25 1850
James Ransome, Rushmere,
Ipswich. 67 11mo. 22 1849
Anne Rawlinson, Newton-in-Cartmel. 45
12mo. 12 1849
Deborah Reynolds, Rochester. 76 5mo. 4
1850
Sarah Reynolds, Liverpool. 68 5mo. 19
1850
Susanna Reynolds, Oldswenford,
Stourbridge. Wife of John Reynolds. 45 12mo. 28 1849
William Richards, Wellington. 73 12mo.
19 1849
p. 52Josiah Richardson, Peckham. 84 1mo. 8 1850
Helena Richardson, Belfast. Wife of
John G. Richardson. 30 12mo. 7 1849
Hannah Rickerby, Burgh, near
Carlisle. 50 7mo. 13 1850
Joseph Robinson, Stoke Newington Road,
London. 72 7mo. 6 1850
William Robinson, Bellevile, near
Dublin. 62 10mo. 26 1849
Frederick Robinson, Dublin. Son of
Samuel S. and Charlotte Robinson. 16 12mo. 16 1849
Mary Robinson, Fleetwood. Widow of
Isaac Robinson. 77 2mo. 8 1850
Jane Robinson, Whinfell Hall,
Pardshaw. Wife of Wilson Robinson. 84 7mo. 15 1850
Rebecca Robinson, Tottenham. Wife of
James Robinson. 56 10mo. 11 1849
Anne Robson, Sunderland. Wife of Thomas
Robson. 65 3mo. 20 1850
Henry Robson, Huddersfield. Son of
Thomas Robson. 51 8mo. 12 1850
Joseph Russell, Cork. 61 1mo. 14
1850
James Sansom, Tideford. An Elder.
73 10mo. 10 1849
p. 53Maria Scales, Nottingham. Daughter of Lydia
Scales. 32 4mo. 16 1850
It often pleases our heavenly Father to carry forward the work of divine
grace, in the hearts of his children, by means, and through dispensations,
altogether unfathomable to the finite comprehension of men; but the humble
believer, looking beyond the changing rugged path of this life, with filial love
and confidence can repose on the mercy and goodness of the Lord, and believingly
apply the language of our Saviour, "What I do thou knowest not now, but thou
shalt know hereafter."
In very early life, the subject of the present brief notice was made sensible
of the contriting influence of divine grace on her heart, so that many of her
earliest recollections were fraught with love to her Saviour.
For many years, she was subject to attacks of illness of a very trying
character, in connection with which, she was brought as into the very furnace of
affliction, and earnest were her prayers, that ‘patience might have her perfect
work,’ and that through faith in the wisdom of her heavenly Father, she might
become fully resigned p.
54to his holy will; and a sense of his supporting power and presence,
were often mercifully granted to her, in times of severest suffering.
Her last illness was short: two days previous to her decease, she remarked,
"I have had an awful night," but added, "my mind is calm and peaceful, I can now
quite say, ‘Thy will be done;’" and to the remark, "His grace is
sufficient for thee," she replied, "Oh yes! and without that, we can do nothing;
I cast all upon Him, and can say, I fully trust in His will, and in His
power."
Joseph Sefton, Liverpool. 66 12mo. 15
1849
Sarah Sewell, Wereham, Norfolk.
85 11mo. 4 1849
George Shaw, Clonmel. 68 12mo. 22
1849
Susanna Sheppard, Mile End Road,
Middlesex. 97 4mo. 16 1850
Betty Shipley, Derby. Widow of John
Shipley, of Uttoxeter. 86 2mo. 3 1850
Margaret Sikes, Ashburton,
Ireland. Wife of William Sikes. 48 5mo. 4 1850
Alice Sill, Kendal. 82 6mo. 1 1850
George Simpson, Birkenhead. 58 7mo. 5
1850
p. 55Susanna Smith, Drynah, Mountmelick. Widow
of Humphry Smith. 80 11mo. 19 1849
Mary Smith, Darlington. 77 3mo. 2
1850
Abigail Smith, Preston. 70 5mo. 12
1850
Hannah Smith, Walton, Liverpool.
Wife of Henry H. Smith. 58 1mo. 23 1850
Cassandra Smith, Birmingham. Died at
Dover. 49 9mo. 27 1849
John Smith, Winchmorehill. 77 7mo. 11
1850
Elizabeth Snowden, Bradford. Daughter
of John and Ann Snowden. 21 7mo. 21 1850
Mary Ann Sparkes, Exeter. 41 2mo. 3
1850
Eliza Cole Sparkes, Exeter. Daughter of
Thomas and Esther Maria Sparkes. 1 4mo. 29 1850
Joseph Spence, York. An Elder. 75
9mo. 26 1850
Charles Spence, Darlington. Son of
Charles and Hannah Spence. 6 12mo. 8 1849
Mary Spencer, South Lodge, Cockermouth.
69 6mo. 30 1850
William Squire, Stoke Newington. 59
3mo. 24 1850
Dorcas Squire, King’s Langley,
Hempstead, Herts. 67 1mo. 9 1850
p. 56Catherine Dyke Stade, Aberavon,
Glamorgan. Daughter of J. and R. D. Stade. 6 11mo. 26
1849
Susanna Staniland, Hull. 78 8mo. 26
1850
James Steevens, Basingstoke. 59 2mo. 25
1850
Mary Stretch, Nantwich. Widow of
Richard Stretch. 80 3mo. 25 1850
Elizabeth Stretch, Finedon. Widow of
Samuel Stretch, of Hortherton, Cheshire. 75 2mo. 27 1850
Sarah Tackaberry, Ballygunner,
Waterford. Widow. 88 5mo. 12 1850
George North Tatham, Headingley,
Leeds. 78 5mo. 19 1850
James Taylor, Heston, near
Brentford. 79 2mo. 7 1850
Benjamin Thompson, Spring Hill,
Lurgan. 77 3mo. 19 1850
Thomas Thomson, Dublin. Son of Benjamin
and Sarah Thomson. 23 11mo. 21 1849
Philip H. L. Thornton, Sidcot. Son of
William and Catherine Thornton. 22 6mo. 5 1850
The subject of this memoir was a native of Kingsbridge, Devonshire; and was
educated p. 57among
Friends. He was not by birth a member of our Society, but was received
into membership a short time previous to his death. Having been adopted by
his uncle, he was taken to Ireland, when about fourteen years of age, as an
apprentice to one of the Provincial Schools, of which his uncle was the
superintendent.
Endowed with natural abilities well adapted for the acquisition of knowledge,
and possessing a taste for various branches of literature and science,—gifted,
too, with engaging manners and affability of disposition, he became, as he grew
up, a general favourite amongst those with whom he associated, and his immediate
relatives indulged in fond hopes of his becoming an honourable and useful
charter. His best friends, however, were sometimes anxious on his account,
lest the caresses of the world should turn aside his feet from the path of
safety, and prevent that entire surrender of heart and life to the requirements
of the gospel, which alone consists with true Christian discipleship, and
affords a well-grounded expectation of real usefulness and permanent
well-being. But he was open to receive the admonitions of his friends, and
there is reason to believe that the voice of Christian counsel was instrumental
to his good.
p. 58He was
never very robust; and his application to study, in addition to his stated
duties, was, perhaps, not favourable to bodily vigour. Before the
expiration of his apprenticeship, he became so enfeebled, as to cause his
relations much anxiety; and as his uncle and aunt had withdrawn from the
Institution, the Committee of the School kindly acceded to their proposal to
remove him to their own house. Here he soon rallied; and in the summer, of
1848, applied for the situation of teacher of Sidcot School. He entered
upon the duties of the station with earnestness and zeal; and the notice and
encouragement which he there received, tended both to render his occupation a
delight, and to draw forth the more hidden depths of his character. His
heart was in his work, and the field of labour particularly congenial to his
taste.
A few months, however, sufficed to bring on a return of delicacy, and
rendered it advisable that he should retire for a while from active duty; but
the following year, apparently with renovated powers, he again resumed his
post. For a while, he appeared to think that his health was becoming
confirmed; but about the commencement of another p. 59year, he was rapidly brought
low, and nearly disqualified for the performance of his school duties. He
was however retained in his office, with delicate attention to his known wishes,
until in the 4th month, 1850, he was obliged to withdraw, and again make his
uncle’s house at Mountmelick his home. The following extracts from letters
and memoranda written previous to his leaving Sidcot, show the state of his mind
at that period.
2nd mo. 10th. "I often feel,—oftener than ever, that the thread of life
is in me weak,—very weak; and, oh! I am sometimes almost overwhelmed with the
retrospects, and prospects, this feeling opens to my view. I feel that I
have been pursuing false jewels, sometimes those which have no appearance even
of external brilliance, and the Pearl has escaped my notice. I
have, I believe, earnestly desired that I may be enabled to see the true and
real beauty of the Pearl, and its inestimable value, in such a light, that
nothing may again warp my attention from it."
2nd mo. 23rd, 1850. "My weakness of body, and frequent illnesses, have
brought before my mind the great uncertainty of my continuing long p. 60in this scene
of probation. I feel that I have lived hitherto ‘without God in the
world,’ plunged in sin and darkness; that my sins are a greater burden than I
can bear; and unless my all merciful God and Father, through his dear Son,
forgive them, and relieve me from them, I fear they will draw me with them to
the lowest grave."
"I believe my heart’s desire is, to walk in the narrow way,—to be the Lord’s
on his own terms, and to be humbled even in the dust. The evil one
suggests, that I can never be forgiven, and fills my soul with doubts and fears;
but, oh Lord! thou hast said, ‘He that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast
out.’"
2nd mo. 24th. "Strong desires are in my heart, that I may be favoured
with an assurance of forgiveness; but, oh! I fear that my repentance is not
sincere, that the pride of the world still holds place in my heart. Oh
Lord! I pray thee that thou wilt use thy sharp threshing instrument, and
break in pieces all that is at variance with thy holy will."
"This is First-day. Be pleased to keep the door of my lips, Oh Father!
and reign absolutely in my thoughts; grant that meeting may be a
p. 61time of favour
and visitation, and that I may be enabled to wait patiently for thee. Oh!
that I could keep the world from pouring on me as a flood, at such times: Thou,
gracious Father, canst enable me to do this."
3rd mo. 1st. "Struggles seem to be my portion, in which the world, the
flesh, and the devil often seem likely to get the victory. Lord, grant
through the blessed Saviour, that if I have found the good part, nothing may be
permitted to take it from me. I greatly desire an increase of faith.
Alas! I feel the little I have fail sometimes."
6th. "Oh! that none of the Lord’s intentions respecting me, may be
frustrated by my disobedience and unwatchfulness. Oh! I feel that I am
indolent and very lukewarm, if not cold altogether, in attending to my soul’s
salvation, and in doing all for the Lord’s glory. Thou knowest, oh Lord!
that I am very weak in body; but, oh! grant that I may not make that a cover for
indolence and lukewarmness. Thou hast known my peculiar trials, and I
thank thee that thou hast, through the dear Lamb, granted me strength to bear
them."
After his return to Mountmelick, this dear p. 62youth lived seven weeks, and
during this time his company was most sweet and instructive; the tenor of his
conduct and conversation being beautifully regulated by the influence of the
divine Spirit, bringing, in great measure, as there was reason to believe, every
thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ; and the composure and
serenity of his countenance, clearly indicated the sweet peace which pervaded
his mind.
About the end of Fifth Month, it became evident that the final change was
drawing near. This he was enabled to look to without dismay; saying, when
a fear was expressed that he could not continue long: "I cannot say that I have
any fear."
On the night of the 2nd of 6th Month, he said: "I wish I could feel a
stronger assurance of acceptance with the Almighty;" and afterwards he requested
to have the 23rd Psalm read to him.
The next morning, sitting up in his bed, he remarked: "There remaineth a rest
for the people of God;" and, after a pause, "I want more of that faith, of which
I fear I possess so little; and yet, when I have asked for what was proper and
needful for me, it has not been denied. I desire to be enabled to pass
through the valley p.
63of humiliation, without much conflict; and then comes the valley of the
shadow of death:—only a shadow! the finger of God will guide safe through, all
those who put their trust in him: ‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the
shadow of death, I will fear no evil; thy rod and thy staff they comfort
me.’ The rod to chasten, the staff to support! Oh! all that is of
the world, and all that is in it, are worthless in my sight. If the Lord
has any work for me to do on earth, I trust I am willing to do it; but if not, I
have no wish to stay."
In the afternoon, the beloved invalid broke forth with the following
expressions: "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want;" emphatically adding,
"What a very precious promise!" and, after a short pause,—"Come now, and let us
reason together, saith the Lord, though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be
white as snow, though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool,"
remarking, "and this was under the old dispensation. Oh! I hope my
sins are gone beforehand to judgment; but there seem to be so many fresh sins, I
have so much time that I do not improve as I ought; but the poor weak body p. 64and this weak
mind too!" On its being remarked, that we did not serve a hard master, he
seemed comforted, and continued, "Oh! that I could see the pearl gates; but I
fear I have not faith enough, nor love enough to love Him perfectly who first
loved me, and died for me, yes! even for me! Oh! I desire to throw
myself at his feet; how I wish I could love him better, and serve him more."
The whole of Fourth-day he seemed fast sinking, and calmly spoke of death as
very near. He craved for patience, again and again, making use of many
sweet expressions as his end drew near. "O Jesus! sweet Jesus, come!" and
placing his hands together, supplicated thus: "Oh, dear Lord! if it be thy will,
be pleased to take me, for the sake of thy dear Son." And, again, "Thy
will be done." He remarked, "I believe I am passing through the dark
valley of the shadow of death;" and on the hope being expressed that he would be
supported through, he responded, "Through mercy!" Soon after this, he sank
into a quiet sleep, which lasted some hours; and, shortly after waking, the
unfettered spirit took its flight so gently, as scarcely to be perceptible to
those around.
