Abner Jones - 08-The Death of My Brother

The Death of My Brother

After I had tarried at home a few days, I heard that my eldest brother was dead, who lived in Stillwater in the state of New-York, about an hundred miles from Bridgewater. This news struck me with an awful sense of the death of a sinner; for there was nothing in the news concerning the state of his mind, and I feared that he died as he lived; hating and despising religion. In a few days after this news I determined to go and see his family, and see if I could learn any thing of his situation. On the fourth of September I set off for Stillwater on horse back, and on the seventh, which was on Saturday; I arrived at Stillwater. When I came within about three miles of the place, I made some enquiry, and the people told me I might depend, that my brother was yet living, but that he was almost gone with the consumption, and when I came to the place I found it as it had been represented. This was a very affecting meeting indeed, even with a brother who was near by the ties of nature, and whom I really supposed had been dead for a number of weeks, but yet I saw him once more in the land of the living; although the very image of death seemed to set on his countenance. I shewed him my badge of mourning, and told him that I had once buried him, but that I yet saw him living. By the symptoms he appeared to be nigh his end, and yet he seemed entirely insensible of it, and thought he was getting better. He told me that he had been much lower than he was then. He told me he had been so low, that he had not the least thought of recovering, yea, he farther added and said, that he once thought that he was dying, and expected to be in the eternal world in a few moments more. I asked him if he had his senses at the time? he said he had perfectly so. I asked him if he at that time believed as he had done before, viz. in fatality and universalism? his answer was yes, pretty much the same. He added farther and said, that he viewed it a great thing to change worlds, but said he, I felt entirely resigned to the will of God. It was a common thing for him when he was well to say, that "he scorned the idea of not being preprared for death, I am prepared for it any moment." My brother continued in this situation until the second Lord’s day after my arrival. He used to try his strength every day, by getting up in the bed, so that he could set on the side of it without help, once in each. On Lord’s day morning he endeavoured to get up as usual, but found that he could not. He exerted himself to the utmost to get up, insomuch that he sweat like a man in the most violence exercise; but all to no purpose. When he fell back into the bed and gave up the point, he gave up the idea of getting well also, saying, I never shall get well. I asked him if he really believed he should die? he said he was confident that he should not get well. I perceived immediately a great alteration in him. Until this period he seemed to share almost the same sprightliness as when he enjoyed health; but now he seemed to be sunk into a gloom. On the latter part of the same day, when all were absent from his apartment but myself, I took occasion to ask him how he viewed his situation as to another world. He readily gave me the following answer, "I view my case to be deplorable; I have spent all my days in cursing and swearing, and chanting at the sound of the viol, and now I must die and be miserable. I then entered into conversation on the subject, and I think he was in as great distress concerning his soul, as any person that I ever saw, saying that his case was eternally fixed. I think his lamentation for mispent life exceeded every thing of the kind that I ever heard, I shall therefore add some few of the many heart-rending sentences which this dying man uttered. Said he,

"I am like Balaam, I want to die the death of the righteous, but I dare not offer a few of my last hours to God, when I have rebelled against him all my days. I dare not so much as lift my eyes to heaven to cry for mercy, for there is no mercy for me."

Yet he desired that I would pray for him. I asked him if it was his desire that I should pray for him then? he said it was. I asked him if I should wait till his wife came in? he said, no, pray now. I kneeled down by his bedside and prayed with and for him. His wife who knew nothing of the alteration, came in while I was at prayer, and greatly surprised to see me on my knees, praying for her dying companion, and he also a taking on in bitter lamentation. After I had done praying, he called his wife to his bedside, and taking her by the hand he thus addressed her.

"Sally, prepare for death, before it is too late; there is mercy for you, but as for me there is no mercy for me;" and with many other such words he addressed her, which seemed like barbed arrows darted by the force of lightning, piercing her through and through while the most bitter flood of weeping and mourning, flowed freely like torrents of mighty waters. He then began his sad lamentation to his wife. "I am like Balaam, I want to die the death of the righteous, but I dare not so much as lift my eyes to heaven for mercy; I dare not offer a few of my last hours to his service, when I have spent all my days in sinning against him. There is no mercy for me. Oh! how I have mis-improved all my privileges of going to meeting, and have despised the best of men. Now I would give all the world, if I had it, for one opportunity of attending such a meeting as I have before despised. O my brother, if I only had what you have got, it would be enough, but there is no mercy for me. Here I am in distress, I have lain here until my skin is worn off my body in a number of places. A few more hours will eternally close all my happiness, and I shall awake in hell. Who can dwell with devouring fire? who can inhabit everlasting burnings?" He often repeated the following stanzas.

Behold a man threescore and ten
Upon a dying bed,
Has run his race and got no grace,
An awful sight indeed.

Poor man he lies in sore surprise
And thus he doth complain,
No grace I’ve got, and I cannot
Recall my time again. This is the truth, I’ve spend my youth,
In carnal joys and mirth;
Put far away the evil day,
And scarcely thought on death. In middle age I did engage
In the affairs of life,
Some wealth to gain for to sustain
My children and my wife. My sins are all both great and small
Before my fixed eye,
And I must go to endless woe
To burn eternally.

Thus he continued to lament his awful case almost all the time. He warned everyone that came to see him, to prepare for death, and not do as he had done. His great distress of mind and body together, seemed to wear him away like the dew before the sun. This was truly an affecting scene, to see a dying man almost in despair, hastening with rapid strides to the grave, his dear wife almost in distraction to see her companion in such a deplorable situation, dissolving like smoke in the air. All my cry and desire was, that God would pardon his sins before he died, that he might leave some comfort behind to his surviving friends. My brother continued in this situation through the night and all the next day, with no alteration, excepting that he grew weaker very fast. He often observed to this purpose, that he viewed his condemnation entirely just, yet he could not be willing to suffer it. On Monday evening there was a religious friend came in to see him, and converse with him. My brother asked him to pray for him; he did, and I thought he wrestled with God for his soul like good old Jacob. While he was praying my brother lay entirely quiet and attentive, but as soon as he had done he began his usual lamentation, and continued it for a considerable time, but in the midst of it uttered these words, "but I think I can give up all," and his mind was calmed in a moment, when Christ said, peace be still. His language was also changed. Said he, "what is the matter, one minute ago I could not bear the thoughts of dying, now my fears of death and hell are all gone, and I am ready to die this moment. I never knew what happiness was before. I once thought I took pleasure in chanting at the sound of the viol, but one minute now produces more happiness than ever I enjoyed in all my life. Is this my house? continued he--yes, it must be, for I know I have not been moved, it appears entirely new. O my brother, I never loved you before, I thought I did. I never knew what happiness was before. Why do you not sing? I want you should sing." I took Dr. Watts’ Psalms, and opened on the 39th. "Teach me the measure of my days," &c. I began to sing it, my brother struck in and sung the bass with me clear through, nearly as well as used to do when he was well. Heaven seemed to set on his countenance. His senses were strong and bright; his soul was as calm as a summer’s morning, and thus he continued for the most part of the time until he died, which was about thirty eight hours. The tune in which we sung the above mentioned psalm in, he would frequently be breathing out between his teeth, so loud that one might plainly understand the tune. Thus he continued to do until about an hour and an half before his death. Thus on Wednesday morning, about nine o’clock, he expired in peace, with a smile on his countenance, Sept. 8, 1795. After his funeral was attended, I tarried several days, and then returned to Bridgewater.