The daughter of affliction. A memoir of the protracted sufferings and religious experience of Miss Mary Rankin

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THE

DAUGHTER OF AFFLICTION.

Introduction

The Memoie contained In the following pages, clear reader, is a history of the past life and religious experience of one who can justly appropriate to herself, in its fullest sense, the title that has been chosen for this volume :— THE DAUGHTER OF AFFLICTION.

Written, as it was, at her bedside, the narrative is told in plain, unassuming language, as it fell from her own lips. However marvelous some portions of- it may seem to be, rest assured that it is simply the truth untouched by the colorings of imagination. Indeed, from what is here written, you cannot form any thing more than a very limited idea of what the reality has been.

The only incentive that induces Miss Rankin to permit a memoir of her years of suffering to be presented to the public at this time, is a sense of duty which she feels that she owes to God; and to her fellow creatures, by making known to them

His all-sustaining power under the most trying and afflictive circumstances.

Some fifteen years ago, when herself and friends, as well as others, believed that she could not possibly survive much longer, many persons insisted upon her to have notes taken, so that a sketch of her life might be published after her death. The notes were accordingly written, but the manuscripts were afterwards lost as will be learned from the narrative.

When she had again recovered a reasonable degree of health, she was repeatedly urged by numerous friends, to have the notes re-written, but she would not consent, and afterwards endeavored to abandon entirely, the idea of ever allowing any thing of the kind to be published.

But when she was once more prostrated by the hand of affliction, and brought nigh, as she supposed, to the brink of the grave: — when the past, the present, and the future loomed up before her, the will of her Heavenly Father was made plain. She says, — "I saw my duty as I never had been able to do before. Jonahlike, I fain would have excused myself; but the waves of affliction were now beating against my bark. After much deliberation and earnest prayer, I was compelled from the fullness of mj soul to cry out, — J I am willing Lord,' to do, to be, or to suffer any thing, only so thy name be glorified." Thus she permits the work to go forth, believing that it is in accordance with His will.

The dread of censure from persons who would perhaps misconstrue her motives, and doubt the propriety of such a publication, has long been the cause of her unwillingness to have the history of her afflictions and religious experience written out, and submitted to the public during her life time. Should such unkind reflections be cast back upon her, she can now say to such uncharitable persons: " I have counted the cost in this respect also." "The satisfied ambition of my soul rejoices in the favor of (xod.' ? Should this memoir be published during my lifetime — which is now contemplated, I will trust in the all-sustaining grace of Him, who has enabled me to endure all things — to support me in bearing this cross also.

With her permission, a few selections have been made from her epistolary correspondence, among which are letters from several of her friends and acquaint-

8 INTKODUCTION.

ances. Many more might have been added that would have no doubt greatly increased the interest of the volume, but they must be withheld for the present. When health and strength would permit she has generally kept up a large correspondence, in which she has never been at a loss for participants. This kind of employment has always afforded her a great deal of pleasure and agreeable recreation, when her mind was wearied with the labors of more abstruse studies. A few of her own epistles are neces-

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sarily inserted, of which many others, on various subjects, and equally as interesting and instructive, might have been added ; but these will serve to show that the tenor of her mind — the sentiments of her heart, and the characteristics of her nature and disposition are the same in health as in sickness, — that her love to God — her interests in the cause of religion, and for the welfare of her fellow creatures is no less ardent when she is fanned by the balmy wing of the angel of health, than when the hand of affliction is laid upon her.

We would here remind the reader that these letters were not intended for publication at the time they were written.

The authors of some of them have since quit the scenes of time — others are in distant lands — a few, perhaps, will read their epistles in this volume. So that whether they be dead or alive ; present or absent, they still speak to us. Reader ! how careful should we be to consider well our thoughts — whether spoken or written, before we drop them upon the scroll of time, to be heard and read by

j and influence, — we know not whom,

nor how.

The passer-by will be wounded by the thorns, or regaled by the fragrance of flowers that will grow upon our graves ! So will our thoughts and actions live to influence for good or evil, the minds of those who will walk the earth "when our faces are turned to the roots of the daisies/'

Miss Rankin lays no claims to poetical genius, yet her poems will require no apology. They are but the silent meditations of her heart. Most of them were composed during long and wakeful nights of suffering, whilst all around her were enjoying the sweet repose of balmy sleep. Thus she has realized for herself, the truth of the significant words of Job,— * "My Maker giveth songs in the night,"

10 INTBODUCTXOX.

Some of these pieces were composed and entrusted to Iier memory for days, when her hand was too feeble to write, and her voice too weak to communicate them to be written down. Thus, reader, Ton mav form some idea of her vigorous mind, and the power of her memory; and her ability to control and exercise them under circumstances of the most intense suffering, and the greatest ph} r sical prostration.

With no desire to excite your incredulity, dear reader, but merely to present you with facts, I will here state that the greater portion of the narrative contained in the following pages, was communicated when she had not power to turn her hand, nor raise her head ; and when the tone of her voice was so feeble that the ear of the writer was required to be very near her pillow, so as to hear her words distinct! v enough to understand them, and the writing was required to be done with a pencil because her nervous sensibilities., for a considerable length of time, were so susceptible, that she could not comfortably endure the noise of a pen on paper so near iiei\ * Thus has her mind ever been active, eaim and composed. Even when the

INTE0DUCTI03T. 11

current of life had sunken to its lowest ebb; and when she scarcely possessed strength enough to give motion to her lips, her almost inaudable whispers told us that reason still occupied its throne. Several times have her physical powers become so completely relaxed, and remained inactive for such a length of time, that it was believed that the vital spark had quit its tenement of mortality, and the news of her death was spread abroad; and neighbors went to the house to inquire "when she would be buried, and where, &c; " which inquiries she overheard, but could not move a nerve or muscle to make known to those who wept around her, that she was still " present with them in the body."

After some time however she gradually revived. Her heart seemed to have ceased its feeble action for a time, as if to rest, that it might resume its work of impelling the life current in its wonted course with renewed vigor; which it did, for she again slowly recovered.

At another time when she was very low, and was suffering greatly, she frequently sank away, and for long intervals remained seemingly in a lifeless condition.

Each, temporary cessation of the vital functions was supposed to be the final, or closing scene of her life. But by continued efforts she was from time to time revived and supported by medicines.

On one occasion, an old lady, whose feelings of sympathy were peculiarly wrought, deemed it "cruel" — in view of the much affliction she had already endured, for any one to desire her to live longer, and she begged the physician and friends to "let Mary die in peace."

When another attempt was made to revive her from one of these sinking spells, the lady left the room, and went home, where she manifested her dissatisfaction by saying: — "Mary is ready to die and willing to die, and the doctor and her mother won't let her die."

Thus, she has oft times, for days, struggled in the icy hand of death. But the hour of her departure had not yet come. Death had not been summoned to anatomize the soul from the body, — to dissect the spirit from its substance.

She still lives to teach us lessons of patience, long-suffering and submission to the will of that "God, whose love is justice , and whose justice is love"

Some have dared to assert that He has dealt unjustly with her ; yet never has a murmur escaped her own lips against Hoi in whose hand is the rod which she has ever willingly kissed. Knowing that it is the hand of a Beneficent Parent that has laid it upon her, she is enabled to regard her afflictions as rich blessings wisely and justly be stowed by "The G-iyek of all good.""

The converted and unconverted — the believer and skeptic — and those who acknowledge, and those who deny the justice of God, have heard such sentiments as the following fall from her lips :

" Though he hath afflicted me more than falls to the common lot of mankind, since he hath not left me alone to suffer, should I repine, or think his dealings with me are hard?"

God, in the economy of nature generally choses to work by common or natural laws, which enable us, so far as we are capable of comprehending them, to reason from cause to effect. But when He for some wise purpose, unknown to us, sees proper to deviate from those laws, should we be found ready to exclaim, "What doest thou?" or, "Why hast thou thus formed me ?" " Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" " Shall not the laws of Nature be subs.er vient to Nature's God?"

When he has a purpose to perform can he not as easily act indpendent of those laws ?

Although "it is appointed unto all men to die," yet when he wills it, an Enoch is translated, and an Elijah is conveyed to Heaven without tasting death. So when he calls us to pass through "the furnace of affliction," or to remain passive therein even for years, "he sitteth by as a refiner of silver," and has promised that the flames shall not hurt us," and that "he will proportion his grace according to our trials." u " It is not that the suffering Christian's sensibilities are blunted : they feel the smarting of the rod as sorely as others, but have learned to look upon affliction as a Divine appointment, and as coming from a Father's hand, who is "too wise to err, and too just to be unkind," they can, therefore, cheerfully acquiesce to His will."

"This submission is the appointed channel through which all the comforts of grace are made to flow."

" Though affliction hath abounded," by endeavoring to bear it with a meek and submissive spirit, "grace hath much more abounded/'

Have I been patient? — this too is a gift of God, and it is our duty as well as our privilege to exercise it ; and like all other graces, if cultivated it is its own rewarder.

"Let patience have her perfect work, and in your patience possess ye your souls/' is the language of Him who was made perfect through suffering, and became obedient even unto death !

This grace not only gives peace, comfort and passiveness to the possessor, but affords an opportunity to recommend to others that " religion which is first pure, then peaceable, — gentle, long-suffering, and easily to be entreated."

Reader, with this declaration of willing resignation to the Divine will — this example of Christian submission before us, we may, in some degree at least, understand how this DAUGHTER OF AFFLICTION

has been enabled to "endure all things — to suffer all things, and to give thanks for all things" that her Heavenly Father has allotted unto her, and we should learn therefrom a lesson of patience and submission.

Though a helpless sufferer — secluded from the world, in her humble mountain home — confined to the prison house of pain, and deprived of almost every temporal privilege and enjoyment, for many long years, she assures us that she has not been left alone. Grod has been with her, and has given her kind friends and neighbors, whose pleasure, as well as privilege it is to administer to her comfort and happiness, and to share such gratitude as ever makes them feel that they are but debtors to her.

We have a pleasant reward in the satisfaction afforded us in being able to relieve the sufferings of our fellow creatures, even if nothing but stoical indifference is offered in return ; but when manifestations of soul-felt gratitude — such as she has ever evinced — fall upon the heart like gentle dews from Heaven, we receive the best and holiest reward that mortals can give; and which is worth more than all the trophies of honor and applause that the world can bestow. Of such gratitude we and many others have been the recipients, even when we felt that she owed us none. Under circumstances, too, that might reasonably have given rise to other feelings and emotions, she has still been grateful. "Gratitude to a Friend," (a poem in this volume) was composed during a night of pain and sleeplessness, she says, "to suppress feelings of impatience when her physician failed for several days to make his appointed visits." When the most severe and painful means were resorted to, with a hope of affording her some relief, but which often had no better effect than to increase her sufferings, she did not complain, nor cast unkind reflections upon those who employed them; but was grateful for the design with which they were used.

Under these, and all other circumstances, have we found her disposition the same — kind, amiable, and Christian-like. '•Xever have I noticed on her brow the cloud of desponding sorrow." Even when she struggled in the grasp of death, she was not harrassed by fears and doubtings; a calm, sweet peace had settled down upon her. Joyousness seemed to bloom in all her thoughts, and happiness was wreathed in her every sentiment.

"Joy like hers is not strewn in the bleak, broad road of sin, Its flowers are hung upon hedges that line the narrow way; And there the faint travelers of earth may wander and

gather for themselves, To soothe their wounded hearts, balm from the ama-

rai.tlio of Heaven." d. n a.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MARY RANKIN,

PAET FIKST.

Chapter I. Account Of My Parentage Amd Early History

I was born in Huntington county, Pa. ? A. D. 1821. My parents were humble but respectable. My father died when I was very youn%\ leaving a family of seyen children. Of my father, I scarcely remember any thing. I recollect the evening of his death because that sad occurrence made impressions upon my mind which time has not been able to efface. Although so young, yet when caressed by kind and sympathizing friends, and tenderly called a "poor little orphan/ 5 — there seemed to me to be something so sad and unpleasant in the title, that I wished, in my childish simplicity, that they would not call me by that name.

Shortly after my father's death, my mother and five of the children, (myself among the number,) took fever, of which my second sister died in less than a month. I was, in the mean time, taken by kind friends and cared for; and recovered from the attack much sooner than the rest of the family. From that time until I was about six years of age, nothing of importance transpired in my history, of which I have now an} 7 recollection ; excepting the following incident:— Being at a certain place, the lady with wdiom I lived sent me one evening on an errand some distance from the house : passing a peach tree laden ed with delicious fruit, I plucked some, and while eating one of the peaches, the seed accidently passed into my throat, entirely preventing respiration. My head grew dizzy, and all around became dark from the strangulation. I fell to the ground and thought I must die. The shock from the fall had the effect of dislodging the seed. When consciousness returned, I found myself prostrate on the ground with the seed in my mouth; and, Oh ! how thankful I felt, that an interposing providence had kindly spared my life.

When reflecting on this circumstance in after life, I have thought how much sorrow and suffering I would have escaped, had the Lord then taken me; but such, it appears, was not his will, and whilst my sufferings have been Ions; and severe, this scripture has been the source of sweet consolation : "Ail things work together for good to them that love God," &c.

I can date my first religious impressions back to about this time. The way in which these impressions were made was as follows : One Sabbath evening, my mother, as usual, was reading her family Bible; while a younger brother and I were playing. This was considered out of place by her, but as it was not her custom to inflict punishment hastily, she permitted the offense to remain unpunished until after she was done reading. She closed the Bible and reminded us that it was time to retire to bed. Although my mother was not, at this date, a professor of religion, she made us kneel on the evening of each Lord's clay while she heard us repeat our prayers. This evening she did not grant us this privilege, hut urged us to prepare for bed. While I was lingering in expectation of the observance of our usual custom, she asked why I did not obey her and retire; I replied, we have not yet said our prayers, — her answer was, as you have been disobedient children I will deprive you of that privilege this evening. I commenced weeping, and when again commanded to retire, I remarked, that I was afraid to go to bed without saying my prayers; for I reflected that if I had been too bad to pray, what would become of me were I to die that night. I continued weeping until at hist mother permitted me to say my prayers.

But the remorse of conscience which I felt that evening did not leave me. I then felt, for the first time, that I was a sinner and unfit for heaven. From that time I always had the fear of G-od before my eyes — always feared to offend Him, and felt a desire to love and serve him. From this time nothing of importance occured until I was in my eighth year. I now went to live in a family where I remained six years or more, The members of this family belonged to the Lutheran church; and I occasionally accompanied them to their place of worship. I also commenced attending a Sabbath school, which met some two miles from the place where I resided. In this nursery of the church, I not only received some very good instructions,- — but instructions that made deep and lasting impressions.

When about ten years of age, I was present at a communion season of the Presbvterian church, and heard the Rev. Mr. Wilson deliver a sermon on that subject. That which impressed me most permanently, was his address to the young communicants. Although so young, his words seemed to melt my very soul. I retired that evening before the rest of the family, and kneeling by my bedside, poured out my soul in fervent prayer to

God as a sinner. Having lain down, I still continued the voice of my supplications. Suddenly a change came over me > — light broke into my soul, and joy — unspeakable joy filled my heart.

Some may suppose that these ideas were Methodistical, and to this may be attributed those peculiar feelings and impressions of which I have just spoken. But to such I would say, that as yet, I had never heard a sermon preached by any of that denomination; nor had I ever been at any of their meetings; and, knew scarcely any thing about them, except the name.

But unfortunately for me, I lacked the advantages of those gracious means so indispensable to the spiritual nourishment of the babe in Christ; and I therefore partially, though never entirely, lost what I had experienced. Could I have at this time, opened my mind to some one experienced in these things, and who could have encouraged me, I might have continued to grow in grace, and in the knowledge of the Lord.

MARY EAXKIX. 25

True, a granddaughter of my kind protectoress, (now Mrs. B:,) being piously inclined, gave me much wholesome advice, Her dislike to works of fiction , caused me to regard them with disgust and horror, and but for the influence she exerted upon me, I might have acquired a taste for novel reading. When at school, it was to her I resorted for aid, If I encountered difficulties in my studies that I could not surmount. The bond of friendship then formed, has been lasting, and the recollection of her tender assiduities still excites within my bosom the sweetest emotions of gratitude and love.

In this connection allow me to relate one incident in reference to which her example and instructions had a very happy effect upon me. A number of our young associates having secretly erected a swing some distance from our dwellings when a Sabbath evening walk was proposed, we always repaired to. the place where the swing was erected for our evening's sport and recreation, At firsi some of us felt afraid to go on the swing; but after repeated assurances from our young friends that there was not the least danger, we all consented to take a ride upon it. But when alone once more, I paid dear for my Sabbath sport. Conscience, that divine monitor, smote me severely for having desecrated the Lord's day. At first I tried to console myself with the thought that I had done nothing more than my associates, and if not wrong in them, surely it could not be wrong in me. But it was a question on which I could not satisfy myself that any of us had clone right; and therefore, I sought relief by fervent prayer, and resolved that I would do so no more. But O! my resolution was evanescent as the early dew; for, a few Sabbaths after, when again solicited to join in their sport, I yielded once more. And now I went with "the multitude to do evil" in this way for some time, but not without compunction for my sins.

After some time, the friend before referred to, accompanied us to the place of

MARY RAXKIX. 27

our recreations, but would not participate with us, though repeatedly solicited to do so. I at length took a seat beside her, and in answer to my question, whyshe did not share our pleasures, she said, "she did not think it was right to swingon the Sabbath, — that we might fall from it and be killed." This reproof was enough for me ; it agreed with my own convictions, and I resolved never to return to the swing on Sabbath, and I never did. From this period until I was thirteen years of age, nothing of much interest transpired in my life. My desire to serve God, however, in the meantime, increased.

About this time I heard a sermon preached, recommending the propriety and utility of reading a portion of Scripture every dav, should it be onlv a verse. From this time scarcely a day passed, that I did not read a portion of the inspired pages. In this exercise I not only found pleasure but benefit ; and felt dis satisfied with myself if I omitted it.

Chapter II. An Account Of The Injury I Received

In June of 1838, I received an injury by running a white thorn in my foot, which, although it ruined my health, and resulted in the amputation of my limb, must be regarded as the external means of separating my heart fully from the world, and uniting it to Christ. But for this accident, I might have become vain and forgetful of God ; but this had the happy effect of showing me how frail we are at our best stete, and that the smallest circumstance may remove us into the presence of that awful Judge of quick and dead, where all must render a strict account for the deeds done in the body.

Ail the efforts of surgery and medical skill used in my case, to restore health, proved abortive. The thorn had penetrated the joint of the small toe, from which it seemed impossible to extract it. During this period of my afflic-

31ARY RANKIN. 29

tions, and until the latter part of the ensuing Auo'ust, I remained in the same family whel*e I had been residing ; after which I returned to my parental home, where I have ever since remained an invalid.

Shortly after I returned home, I attended, for the first time, a meeting held by the "United Brethren in Christ." Being of a religious turn of mind, my eldest sister became ouite anxious about

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me, lest, as she said, they might frighten me into their measures. We continued at the meeting that day and evening, and instead of keeping a watch over me, my sister was so wrought upon by the Spirit of God, that she presented herself at the altar of prayer, as a penitent; and although she did not embrace religion that evening, she came to me after the meeting closed, and told me that I should not be influenced in this matter by anything she had previously said ; that if I felt the need of grace, and was disposed to designate myself as a seeker of religion, I should do so.

30 AUTO-BIOGrEAPHY OF

But notwithstanding I was much pleased with their mode of worship, I did not feel like taking so important a step without a deeper sense of my sinful condition. During the progress of the meeting, my mother also attended and became deeply interested concerning the salvation of her soul. After we returned home, both she and my sister experienced the joy of pardoning love. Powerfully impressed by their conversion, I resolved to devote myself wholly to the Lord; and therefore, to carry out this one great, all-absorbing purpose of my soul, I sought, in the solitary grove, a sequestered spot, to which I frequently resorted to pour out my soul in fervent prayer to God. So intensely did I become affected, that I frequently repaired to my lonely retreat after the dark cartains of night had been thrown around it. In this state of mind I continued for sometime. But at length — -thanks be to His holy name — I felt that Grod for Christ's sake, had pardoned my sins, and graciously adopted me into His family.

Yet the change with me was so gradual, that, notwithstanding the Spirit of God bore witness with my spirit that I was born of G-od, I could hardly believe it. Others I thought, had received greater blessings than I, and enjoyed more ; and these thoughts led me to fear that perhaps I was deceiving myself. The desire that I had previously felt to connect mvself with some branch of the Christian church, now daily increased ; but still I feared that I was too young. About this time, however, I had a presentiment of some change about to take place, which I then supposed would be my death. This increased my desire to become a member of some branch of Grod's visible church . Shortly after this, I heard the Rev. E. Hoffman of the TJ. B. church preach. After the sermon, he gave an invitation to any who wished to connect themselves with the church, to give in their names. Without having previously made known my determination to any one, I arose voluntarily, and presented myself for membership; and to my great surprise and delight, my mother and my sister came forward also, and thus we all at the same time joined the church of the " United Brethren in Christ," of which I am still a member.

But scarcely had this been done, till the enemy suggested that I had pursued an improper course ; that I was quite too young to think of connecting myself with the church; and that, after having "run well for a season," I would, like many others, apostatize, and disgrace the cause. But by the help of grace, I overcame the temptation, i retired to a lonely spot, and there, In secret prayer, besought God to give me grace to endure to the end; and that I might be as Mary of old, who had " chosen that good part which should never be taken from her." I persevered in prayer until I was filled with light, and joy, and peace. I was then perfectly reconciled, believing that He who called me, could also keep me faithful to the end.