Memoir of Mrs. Sarah Louisa Taylor ...

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I THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, | J Princeton, N. J. %

Memoir of Mrs. Sarah Louisa Taylor

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Contents

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Chap. I Birth of Mrs. Taylor — Attachment to Books- Connexion with tiie Sunday School — Sudden Death of a former Schoolmaster — Filial Duty — Early Friendships — Religious Impressions, ...... 1

Chap. II. — Preparation for a new sphere — Journey to New York — Extract from her Journal — Pleasure in Teaching —

Chapter I

IJirth of Mrs. Taylor — Attachment to Books — Connexion with the Sunday School — Removal to Colchester — Member of Bacon Academy — Sudden Death of a former Schoolmate — Filial Duty — Early Friendships — Religious Impressions — Return to her Parental Home.

When we stand on the banks of a beautiful river, and behold its accumulated waters moving gently but with stately grandeur to the ocean, we would not repress the desire which naturally arises, to trace those waters to their distant source — to follow the rivulet as its winds along, avoiding obstructions, receiving its tributary streams, acquiring additional force, and sweeping away the strongest barriers of nature. What more dissimilar than the humble rill and the majestic stream ! yet we love to contemplate them together, to consider them as one and the same river, and to observe the successive gradations of its course.

With equal interest in the moral world, when we stand by the couch of the dying christian, and perceive the immortal spirit gathering strength for its upward flight — see it triumphing over the weakness and sufferings of this mortal frame, and rejoicing, yea, glorying in tribulation — we would learn by what process this wonderful achievement has been made, whence the agency that has been exerted, A 63 nnd liow the undying spirit in this house of clay may be transformed and prepared for the realms of glory.

An illustration of these particulars will be attempted in the followini,' memoir.

Mrs. Sarah Louisa Taylor, third daughter of William and Mary Ann Foote, was born at East Haddam, Connecticut, January 18th, 1809. The early years of her life were spent beneath the parental roof, in the enjoyment of that kindly intercourse by which members of the same family arc strongly endeared to each other. Here her habits were formed, and those affections called into exercise which constituted so powerful an attraction in subsequent years. While she was beloved by every member of the domestic circle, and was ever anxious to render herself useful, she evinced an ardent attachment to books. They had sufficient power over her to diminish her interest in childish amusements. She attended the district schools in the vicinity of her residence, and became familiar with the branches usually taught in them. In the tenth year of her .ige she was sent to a select school in Glastenhurv; uhere she commended herself, by close attention to ner studies, the propriety of her deportment, and ■specially the kindness of her feelings, to the favourable regard of all who knew her. Some of the intimacies here contracted were continued to the end of her days.

For several years, she attended the Sunday school of St. Luke's church in this town. — To those who kilt w her subsequently as the persevering and faith- I'll icacher, it will l)e interesting to think of her taking the first lessons in the capacity of a scholar. The truths then instilled into her mind were never forgotten. They were the germ which eventually produced much fruit.

Her earliest writings evince a playfulness of fancy, a lively and vigorous conception of the various peculiarities in the character and disposition of her associates ; while they breathe so affectionate a spirit that none could take offence. She selected from her favourite authors those passages with which she was most delijihted. It was her constant aim to turn her reading to some valuable account. That she often pursued a serious train of thought is evident from the reflections she made on various subjects. In March, 1821, she expresses herself in an interesting and affecting manner on the passage, " Thou God seest me." 'J he thought that the eye of God was continually upon her seems to have been in some degree realized, and to have awakened for the time deep emotions of awe and reverence. Yet we are not permitted to rank her amon^r the number of those who, in the very morn and freshness of their lives, made an entire surrender of themselves to the service of God, At this period no member of her father's family was connected with " the household of faith ;" and the opinions she was accustomed to hear advanced on religious subjects were materially different from those which she subsequently embraced.

In the winter of 1824. she became a member of Bacon Academy in the town of Colche5<ter. At this institution she enjoyed excellent advantages for improving her mind and regulating her affection-. None made greater proficiency in their stud'cs, or secured in a higher degree the esteem and confidence of their teachers and associates. She was prompt to every call of" duty, and so demeaned herself as to be recommended for an example to others. Though diligently employed during the week, she was far from being indolent on the Lord's day. By the laws of the Academy, all the pupils were required to attend public worship, and to hand to their instructors, on Monday morning, an abstract of the sermons they had heard. Many regarded this exercise as a task, and devised expedients to relieve themselves from it. She found in it much to interest, and considered the results so beneficial, that she continued the practice the greater part of her life. She joined a Bible class connected with the Sunday school, and afterwards became a teacher in the school; in each situation evincing an earnest desire to profit by her privileges, and to make them contribute to the most valuable purposes.

The dispensations of Providence always produced a powerful effect upon her. They induced her to recur to the truths of the Bible, and to realize the fleeting nature of all terrestrial objects. In the summer of this year one of her former schoolmates was called to make a sudden exchange of worlds. To the friend who conveyed the intelligence she thus writes : —

" Colchester, July 6, 1824-.

" My dear A., — Yours of the 1st inst. was received with pleasure, but its contents filled my heart with the deepest sorrow. Can it be possible, I was ready to exclaim, that our valued friend is no more .'' \\'hcnwe lastsawhershewasyoung, gay, and thoughtless, and probably put far off the evil clay ; but in an unexpected moment the ' fell destroyer' came, and triumphed over all that was lovely and amiable. How forcibly this event should impress us with a sense of the shortness of life, and the vanity of those things to which we are most attached. Every object to which we direct our thoughts affords striking proof that its duration is short. Its fluctuations and changes are often sudden. The transition from time to the untried scenes of eternity may take place in the most unexpected moment.

" Perhaps, while the individual is forming plans for future years, thoughtless of death and eternity, the summons comes — he is arrested in his course — his strong frame yields. No mortal arm can avert the impending stroke ; no power can rescue him from the embrace of death.

" If we look at the receptacle of the silent dead, will not our hearts acknowledge, that 'life's a dream* — a shadow that passeth quickly away? There we behold an end of all earthly distinctions. The young and the old, the rich and the poor, lie mouldering in the same native dust.

" Alluding to the dying scene of our friend, you say, ' death was indeed unexpected and unwelcome — an unlooked-for visitor.' Arc we not all liable to be called as suddenly ? Do we not act unwisely, to place our whole affections on the transitory objects of time ? We are young, and ardently desire to enjoy happiness ; but if we imagine that this world alone can afford us enjoyment, we shall be sorely disappointed. All the alluring forms of earth are deceptive ; they are airy phantoms, which will soon vanish.

Why do wc so eagerly <;rasp at tliesc, and Jcek not those pleasures which flow from God's rig.,t hand for evermore? We must pass through the dark valley, and, like those who have gone before us, lie down in silence. Our names will be buried in oblivion. New generations will arise, and fill the places we now occupy. These will be succeeded by others, till the trump of the archangel shaJl proclaim 'that time shall be no loufjer.'

" That we may both realize the uncertainty and vanity of earthly things, and the necessity of being prepared for death, is the sincere desire of your affectionate friend,

" Sarah ."

It is gratifying to perceive that, while she was the most completely engrossed by the various duties of the Academy, she was ever mindful of those to whom she was bound by the ties of nature and affection. Though separated from her immediate relatives, her interest was not diminished in any thing that pertained to them. In November we find her cnjraired in the delightful employment of comforting her mother in the midst of severe trials. There are few situations in which a daughter appears to more advantage than when attempting to pour the balm of consolation into a parent's heart. Her affectionate solicitude will naturally suggest such topics as most effectually withdraw the mind from the sources of its sorrow, and lead it to dwell upon brighter and more cheering views. This was the course pursued by Miss Foote. Though she could not speak, irom her own experience, of those joys which the Lord often grants to

I his chiltlrcn in seasons of tribulation, yet she ha- Ueved in their existence, and was fully persuaded, that the only substantial support which mortals can obtain in this vale of tears must be derived from the Eternal Jehovah. Hence she desired that her afflicted parent mij^ht rcniember, that all events are ordered in infinite wisdom — that trials and afflictions are necessary to wean us from an undue attachment to the world, and reminded her of the promise "As our day is so shall our strength be." " You have never been forsaken in the time of trouble. Relief is often imparted in the way we least expect it." Children never have reason to regret such manifestations ot filial regard. Were they more solicitous to be a comfort to those who watched over them in infancy, their path through life would be less rugged : they would be delivered from a frequent cause of anguish.

In the early part of 182.5, Miss Foote spent several months in teaching a class of young children in the Academy, and then resumed her situation as a pupil, and continued to the end of the year with the same industry and perseverance for which she had previously been distinguished. Her attainments were, in every point of view, highly creditable. Mr. Vose, at that time the Principal of the Academy, gave the most ample testimony to the excellence of her character, the solidity and extent of her acquirements, and her general qualifications to make herself useful as a teacher. With his amiable and accomplished lady, Mrs. Elizabeth Q. Vose, she enjoyed much profitable intercourse, and, after leaving Colchester, maintained a correspondence with her, fraught with sentiments of mutual attachment and affection, which was only interrupted by the tleatli of lier beloved preceptress. Here she formed many friendsliips, which were destined to survive the passing hour. The influence they exerted upon her, so far as it can be ascertained from her own writings, or the 1 iters of her correspondents, was salutary. The place itself was endeared to her by many powerful associations. She was comparatively free from care, deeply interested in whatever she engaged, alive to the comfort and happiness of others, greeted by the approving smile of her instructors, and a welcome companion in every circle.

It may be thought that, under such circumstances, she would be little inclined to reflect on the great purpose for which she was brought into the world — that the concerns of the immortal soul would be entirely banished from her mind. Such a conclusion respecting her would be unjust. She reflected much on religious subjects, and was solemnly impressed with the necessity of living to the glory of God. Advancing in divine knowledge, she gave the full assent of her understanding to those doctrines which arc the most humbling to human pride. She saw the truth, admired its beauty, was at times affected by it, but remained a stranger to its renovating power. Her writings show most clearly, that she renounced every foundation of human hope which the ingenuity of man has devised, and was convinced that salvation could only be obtained, by rich unmerited grace, through Jesus Christ. The Bible unfolded to her view that glorious plan by which the law of Jehovah could be ma<inified and command universal respect, while the penitent sinner could have access to the Mercy-scat, and, trusting in the Saviour's merits, receive a comforting evidence of the forgiveness of sins. Yet she dwelt with painful emotions on the condition of those who reject the overtures of mercy, and treasure up wrath against the day of wrath.

Having spoken of the inestimable value of the Bible, she recurs, under date of October 21, in a touching manner, to those who are unenlightened and unaflPected by its truths, " No voice from the sacred desk makes known to them the glad tidings of salvation. No humble heart-felt prayer ascends to Him who alone has power to forgive sin and to purify the heart. The blood of immortal beings marks the wheels of the car which bears alonji the terrific object before which thousands bow. Whose heart does not melt with compassion for such infatuated beings? — But will not the condemnation of those in christian lands be far more severe, who, with a knowledge of the way of salvation, pass heedlessly down to the grave ? Suppose an individual of this description on the verge of eternity. When his offences appear in their true light, would he not gladly recall the time he has spent, it may be, in reviling the very truths which now fill him with anguish. He is conscious that he must soon enter the presence of his God, and knows that he is unprepared. Where can he go for solace ? This blessed book does indeed proclaim pardon to the repenting sinner, rest to the weary, and eternal life to those who continue faithful unto the end. But does it not, with equal clearness, proclaim tribulation and anguish to all who grow bold in iniquity ? Has he time now to make A 2 his peace with an otfendccl God? W'lio can give him the assurance that the day ot" mercy is not for ever closed?"

December 2, 182"), she thus writes: " Howseldom do we reflect on our obli<^ations to love, reverence, and obey our Creator ! What blessing do we enjoy that wc have not received from him ? When we consider the future happiness in reserve for the righteous, and the inevitable misery of those who love not God, neither obey his commandments, how can wc refrain from yielding our hearts entirely to him ? Did wc realize the compassion of that Saviour who, ' when there was no eye to pity and no arm to save,' left the bosom of the Father, in the realms of glory, and submitted to the ignoniinious death of the cross, that he might make atonement for our sins, could we withhold from him our best affections ? Can we refuse to consecrate ourselves to his service without being guilty of the basest ingratitude, and incurring tile wrath of the Almighty, which abideth for ever."

With these convictions of truth and duty, in a few weeks from this time she took leave of her I'riends in Colchester, where she had spent two happy years, returned to the home of her childhood, and made arrangements for entering on anew sphere of action.

Chapter II

Prepiiratioii for a New Spliere — Journey to New York — DisiippoiiUment — Extracts from her Journal — Pleasures in Teaching— Sympatliy for the Afflicted — Sickness — Letter to Mrs. S. — Death of a Cousin — Correspondence — Letter from Miss. M. E. C. — Spiritual Condition — Obituary Notice of Mrs. Vose.

The period at which we have arrived in the life of Miss Footc is one of deep interest to the young, being a transition from pupilage to a condition in which it is necessary that they should act for themselves, form their own plans, rely upon their own judgment, and pursue a career of usefulness and respectability. They stand on a point from which thev look forward to the future with buoyant hopes and flattering expectations. The world is before them : and they often imagine that they have only to expiess the wish, and act accordingly, and every thing will transpire in conformity to that wish. Their intercourse having chiefly been, with those of their own age, devoted to similar pursuits, a new and to them untrodden path is to be entered. They find that the world, which their fancy had portrayed, is very different from that of real life. Their most confident expectations are frequently disappointed. They are constrained to take lessons in a school where they have never been disciplined — the school of experience. God in great mercy permits them to see the weakness of their own strength, the futility of many of their plans. He leads them in a way they have not known, by counsels they have never fathomed.

that he may prepare them for the stations they are hereafter to occupy. Happy are they who early choose liim for tlieir portion, and in the midst of these vicissitudes, have an anchor to their souls sure and steadfast.

Miss Foote had for some time contemplated devoting herself to the instruction of youth, an employment which she had regarded as affording peculiar facilities for doing good. She knew that success in acquiring knowledge is no sure evidence of an aptness to teach, and that obstacles might interfere, to prevent even an entrance on an employment fondly sought. Being prepared to make the trial, she left her father's house on the 3rd of May, 1826, with the intention of opening a school in the city of New York. Thus, at the age of seventeen, she was going into the world, uncertain who would seek her friendship, or with what intent. She seemed, on taking leave oi' her connexions, to be parting from them for life. Her mother accompanied her to Norwich, where she went on board a packet, and with a pleasant circle of friends, after a passage of three days through the Sound, " admiring the romantic and delightful scenery," arrived at New York. She went directly to the residence of her cousin, Mrs. M. A. T., who gave her a "cordial reception." On this occasion she made the following entry in her journal. " I shall not soon forget the adventures of the past week, nor tlie friends who have added to my enjoyment. We liave separated, it may be never to meet again on this side of eternity." In a few days she made herself familiar with the prominent objects of interest around her. Here was the licld of her future labours, the sphere of duty marked out by the providence of God. Here was her spiritual birth place, and here too, with the exception of an occasional absence of a few months, she passed the remainder of her days.

The various circumstances by which she was affected will claim our notice, so far as they develope the agency of that unseen power which controleth all events. Incidents comparatively trifling may have an important influence upon us, or indicate the prevailing state of our minds. The disappointments and afflictions of life are not vvithout their effect. We learn wisdom from experience, acquire a greater knowledge of ourselves, and become better qualified to perform aright our respective duties. The endeavours of Miss Foote to encaffo in her favourite pursuit were not crowned with immediate success. Weeks and months elapsed, seasons of doubt and apprehension, before the object she had so much at heart seemed in a train of accomplishment. The anxiety necessarily attending a state of suspense, together with the uncertainty of the future, revived her serious impressions, and led her to perceive, with increasing clearness, that she was relying too much upon her own strength. On the first of June she writes, " Another month is numbered, with the 'years beyond the flood.' Since the commencement of tlie last month, how many scenes I have passed through ! What hopes and fears have alternately filled my bosom ! Is it not sinful for me to devote my mind so exclusively to terrestrial objects, without duly considering those things which concern not only my present but eternal welfare ? How vain are all human exertions without the blessing of Heaven !"

Her conscience often reproved her for a neglect of duty, particularly for being deficient in a duo observance of the Lord's dav ; not that she allowed herself to abstain from public worship, but that her thouglits were not suitably employed in meditating upon divine truth. She speaks in her journal of the improper manner in which she had spent these hallowed hours, and of the little effect produced upon her by what she heard. On one occasion she observes, with apparent emotion, " Oft I frequent God's holy house and hear almost in vain." " How little do 1 know of my own heart — of its proncness to deceive, and of its evil desires !"

At times she would recur to past scenes, call to mind the beloved friends from whom she was separated, the many pleasant hours they had spent together, and give expression to the desire that she miffht have one friend to whom she could "confide her little griefs and cares," " who would double the joys and divide the woes of life." Nor was she insensible to the kindness of many with whom she had recently become acquainted. " I have found," she says, " kind and sincere friends ; but I cannot at once transfer to them that confidence I have reposed in those with whom I have been acquainted for a longer period." Giving vent to her feelings with reference to them in the silent hours of the night, she breaks forth, " May they be kept in safety under the protection of the Almighty, and may absent as well as present friends be alike the objects ot his care."

She resumed her journal, Aug. 31st, after having omitted to record any thin<f in it for several months.

Her illusions to the past convey a clear indication of the state of her mind, and the feelings she had cherished.—

" Many long days have passed away, and many sins have heen sealed up for the judgment, since my pen was last employed in this journal : Many hopes have tilled my bosom — hopes destined to end in disappointment. But mine is not a solitary case. Others, within the limited sphere of my observation, are subjected, in a similar manner, to disappointment and misfortune. Compared with the lot of thousands, I have peculiar cause for thankfulness. I want for nothing, but the thought of the future often obtrudes and embitters every enjoyment. Now I am surrounded bv friends ; soon I may be in far different circumstances : Now I have the prospect of a home, and of ultimately succeeding in a school; soon these, like all other earthly hopes, may be blasted. What may be in reserve for me I know not, for we are ignorant of the events which another hour may unfold. Whether prosperity or adversity be my portion, may I bear it with a right spirit, and ever consider who is the lluler of all things, and how great is my unworthiness ! — To-morrow is the commencement of a new n»onth; may its close, if I am in mercy permitted to see it, find me in possession of the blessings I now enjoy ! May my conduct evince my gratitude, and my heart bow to Him through whose goodness they were given and have been so long continued !"

" Sept. 1. Another busy day has past, and allth.e family have retired. After a day thus spent, I find relief in reading or writing, though it encroach upon the time usually devoted to rest. O that I could liear once more from Colchester, that dear spot, which contains so many of my best friends. It may be that they have forgotten nie or only think of me as a * passing stranger.' Be that as it may, 1 there hecame acquainted with a. few who will ever be remembered with affection, who gave such proofs of real regard for me, as to merit my highest and lasting esteem. May I not reasonably indulge the wish, to know what has transpired among them during our separation .'"'

" Sunday, Sept. 3. I have heard two excellent sermons from Mr. C. The text was 1 Cor. vi, 19, 20. ' Ye are not your own, for ye are bought with a price.' He commenced by showing the nature of sin — the way it was introduced into the world — the value of the atonement made by Christ — and concluded with an earnest and affecting exhortation to the impenitent, to come and he made free through the merits of a crucified Redeemer. Were all ministers of the Gospel equally active and zealous, were they excited by the same love for the souls of sinners by which he appears to be influenced, would not more good be done by the preaching of the word ?

" To-morrow, should nothing unforeseen prevent, I shall commence school. How much I need Divine assistance, and how earnestly I ought to implore it! Great will be my responsibility, and great my obligations. May I be guided by Infinite Wisdom, and keep in view my accountahihty, my frailty, and liability to err !"

Sept. 4 was to her a day of lively interest. She had anticipated it with pleasure, and could not enter on its duties without emotion. It seemed a consummation of all her desires, and opened before her a prospect of extensive and permanent usefulness. We can readily conceive, that when the little group who were to be guided by her counsels, and made the daily subjects of her exertions, assembled around her, she would think of all the way in which she had been led, of the mercies that liad attended her path, and mark, in a strong and indelible manner, the overruling hand of a watchful Parent.

On the 24th of September, she offered her service as a teacher in the Sunday school, and was thankfully received. From her readiness to engage in I this labour of love, it must not be inferred that she was a stranger to her own condition, or acted in a [j thoughtless manner. Her humiliating confession, recorded at the time, clearly expresses the state of i her mind : —

" I feel that I am unqualified to be a spiritual teacher, even to the most ignorant and benighted ; for I am myself in darkness, gross darkness. I trust however my motive is correct, though I cannot feel confident even of this, for my heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. When • I examine the principles that govern my actions, I am amazed at the discovery. How can a heart which is wholly engrossed by the world and self contain ought else than feelincrs the most selfish and motives the most unchristian ?

Oct. 2, she writes in her journal, " Dr. D. has just informed me of the death of a dear friend. My feelings at that moment I could not repress without difficulty. If such be ray feelings, what must be those of his young, affectionate, and devoted wife !

IS

Dear R,, my heart bleeds for her. I would write to her did I know in what manner to address her. Could I but hear that reason was spared to him, that his reelings were changed, and his hopes renewed, I should not mourn. But if" he died as when I last saw him, how doubly aggravated will be the affliction of his dear wife ! May she trust in the widow's God, and the Father of the fatherless. May his presence support her, and enable her to say, in perfect submission, The will of Heaven be done. Oh that her little babe may be spared to bless and comfort her, and supply, as far as possible, the loss she has sustained. ' 'Tis well — 'tis wise' — that we cannot pierce the veil which screens the events of futurity from our view ; for then we should be continually distressed by the prospect of approaching calamity. Short indeed was the time of their union. But he has gone, I trust, to enjoy the favour of God for ever. May his bereaved companion be enabled to look beyond the narrow space that separates them, and rpjoi<*e in the hope of soon meeting him, where friends .sh;ill part no more for ever."