The Life And Testimony Of Mary Gadsby

Gospel Standard 1872:

Mary Susannah Gadsby. 

Death. On Dec. 25th, 1871, Mary Susannah Gadsby, born Jan. 23rd, 1810.

She was a granddaughter of the late Mr. Lavell, who was one of Mr. Huntington’s people, and one of the principal and first supporters of Gower Street chapel. Her father was a member of the Establishment, and in her earlier years she generally attended church with the rest of the family, though she sometimes went to Gower Street with her grandfather and her aunt, the former Mrs. Clowes. She always spoke in the highest terms of Mr. Fowler, who was the first stated minister at Gower Street.

It may be saying a great deal; but I firmly believe that few persons ever less violated openly the commands of the Old Testament or the precepts of the New; yet she had a deep sense of her state as a sinner in the sight of God, of her utter unworthiness of the Lord’s favour, and of her need of Christ as a Saviour. So deep indeed was this sense of her unworthiness, and so afraid was she of taking, if I may use the term, what all her friends could see clearly belonged to her, that though often blessed with a good hope and though she often had cheering passages of scripture applied to her heart and sermons suited to her case, she went on timidly fearing to the last.

The first passage which was ever applied to her heart was Ps. 46:1; of which I shall speak presently. But she received her first great relief when hearing my father, one Tuesday night, at Manchester. She went home, sobbing all the way from chapel.

It is well known that for years she had to endure intense suffering, and almost perpetual vomitings, caused by an ulcerated stomach. During the latter part of 1870 and the first eight months of 1871, however, her health had been better than it had been for years. At the latter period her sickness returned upon her with increased severity and frequency. The cause of this I abstain from mentioning here. 

Had her health been no worse than it was during the time I have mentioned, she might, to all human appearance, have better borne up under the shock of our daughter’s death; but she was already so reduced that it seemed impossible for her weak frame to bear any more. She was only down stairs twice after that event, and then only for a short time.

She often said how much she enjoyed the conversation of the Lord’s people, and wished she could have such an assurance as some of them spoke of. Invariably, when I took home a rough copy of the “Gospel Standard,”—that “trashy twopenny pamphlet,” as a minister, who is supported by some who profess the truths it advocates, called it,—the first thing she turned to was the Obituary; and often did I see the silent tear in her eye, as she read of the sweet and happy death of some therein recorded.

On Sunday evening, Dec. 17th, on our return from chapel, Mr. Gee (our son-in-law) and I found her literally “bathed in tears.”

“My dear,” she said to me, “I must tell you that I have become reconciled to dear Elizabeth’s death. I have had that passage given to me, ‘Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.” “My dear,” I replied, “I have no doubt whatever that our child died in the Lord.” “I did not hear her answer,” she said, “to your question, or I should have been better satisfied.” Poor dear! She might well not hear it, for she was kneeling by the bedside with her head covered with her hands. Rev. 14 was then read to her, at her request.

While I was at the chapel, she requested Miss K., her companion, to read Ps. 46, saying, “I call that my psalm, especially the first verse. It was given to me many years ago, when I attended church. I had had a severe trial; and it seemed as though some one behind me spoke the words in my ear. They are following me to-day. O! What should I do if the Lord did not support me? O that at eventide it may be light!” She sat up in bed and found several hymns which had been much blessed to her. Amongst these were 410, 737, 873, 947, 958.

“Give me Christ, or else I die!”

“I’ll not despair, for who can tell?”

“O for a closer walk with God!”

She said, “At first I could not say, ‘Thy will be done;’ but I just begin to realize that hymn:

‘”My Jesus hath done all things well.”’

After her daughter’s death, when asked by her sisters about getting mourning, she said, “O! Do not trouble me; I shall not want it.”

On Sunday, Dec. 24th, a physician being sent for (though previously she had had the best advice that could be obtained), she said, “It is of no use. Only one Physician can do me good.” “O! How thankful I ought to feel that I have so many kind friends, and so many comforts! I hope God will give you patience to bear with me; it will not be for long.” Those who were with her can testify that though her sufferings were great, she bore them with the greatest patience. During the whole of that night she was scarcely half an hour without vomiting. Take what she would, it was all the same.

It being evident on Christmas morning that her end was near, her sisters were sent for; but only two, Mrs. Pegg and Mrs. Absolon, arrived in time to see her alive. Learning that my son William’s children were down stairs, they having come to the house with their parents in the hope of spending a happy day, she desired to see them; but she was too far gone to notice them.

To her son-in-law, who was assisting in rubbing her arms, which were excruciatingly doubled up by cramp, she said, ‘”Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.”’ Also, “These words have been sweetly applied to my mind: ‘At eventide it shall be light,”’ To the nurse she said, “I am going to a glorious happy home. It will soon be over.” Then raising her eyes with a heavenly smile, as though she saw something, which no doubt she did, she exclaimed, “Glorious brightness!—Beautiful sunshine!—I shall soon be with my dear child!”

Having had for a short time to leave the room, when I returned she said, “He told me—some time ago—at eventide—it should be light,” “And is it so?” I asked, “Have you now found rest?” “O yes!” she replied. “The arms of everlasting love are underneath.” I said, “My dear, how you are suffering!” “I suffering,” she exclaimed, evidently having her mind and faith directed to the sufferings of her Redeemer. “I do not pray to be restored,” she said; “but I do pray that I may have patience.” When her brother-in-law, Mr. Pegg, died, she said, “O! I do pray that I may not be left a widow!” And to this, strange as it may seem to some, I added my hearty “Amen;” for I well knew her tenderness, and wished she might be spared that suffering. And graciously has that prayer been answered.

Several times she asked after her son Alfred, he also having come up for Christmas, but having had to go to Bouverie Street. When he arrived, she said, “Bless you; bless you! Don’t smoke, Alfred; don’t smoke! You don’t, do you?” “No, mother,” he replied; “I do not,” “That’s right,” she said; “that’s right!” Poor dear! She knew to what smoking too often leads, and to what temptations commercial travellers are subjected.

After this she seemed to be altogether unconscious; but upon Mrs. A. saying, “It is John who has hold of your hand,”: “O yes!” she said. “Bless him!” I then said, “’The Lord told Paul his grace should be sufficient for him; and Paul found it so. Do you find it so?” “O yes!” she replied. “All’s right! All’s right!” Shortly afterwards she breathed out the word, “Peace!” and her happy spirit took its flight; that face which had been so often distorted by agonizing pains beaming with sunshine—a heavenly glory.

She was interred on Dec. 30th, by Mr. Taylor, in my grave at the feet of my dear father, in the cemetery, Rusholme Road, Manchester. At the grave Mr. T. said, “This is the body of a true believer. I have known her as a believer for nearly thirty years, and that knowledge has increased as I have seen her year after year, though she was always one of the timid ones.”

I may add that she loved my father with a most devoted love.

Many kind inquiries having been made as to my own health, I may state that, though well supported in my mind, my nerves were so shaken, and having, too, a return of my Jerusalem complaint, I became so weak and low in body that my doctor advised me to leave home,—to leave scenes, and sympathizers, and all, for a place of quietness. On Jan. 4th, therefore, I left for Malvern. Ps. 46., especially verses 1, 7, and 10, were greatly blessed to me immediately after my dear wife’s departure, and continued with me; and this before I knew that she had spoken of that psalm to Miss K. When I knew this, it only made the psalm the more precious.

The air at Malvern was too keen. I was confined to my room for five days by one of my old attacks—inflammation of the chest.

The doctor there ordered me home, and I returned on the 13th. Surely no man living has more abundant cause to bless God than I have. I bless him that, by his sovereign free grace, I am what I am. I bless him that he gave me a good wife; I bless him that he preserved her for my good, and the good of others, for upwards of thirty-six years; and, with the deepest humility of heart, I can bless him that, in answer to our prayers, he hath taken her first away; so that, in all sincerity of soul, I can say, “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” I mourn, but my mourning is far away overcome by my rejoicing. I feel lonely; but I have not been left quite alone a single hour. While confined to my room, my poor body so sore all over that the slightest pressure was painful, and my cough so perpetual that it seemed to strain every muscle in my frame, my soul magnified the Lord, and my spirit truly rejoiced in God my Saviour. For several days, every psalm, every chapter, every letter I read, seemed to be full of blessing. Ps. 46, never left me for a moment; and Ps. 86, 103, &c., were mine, every word. O! How I blessed God for 86:10, 13. Verses 14, 17, made me feel truly solemn.

Again. I bless God that he prospered my way in providence, as hundreds of old pilgrims, orphans, cripples, and others have been benefited thereby. I bless God that he put it into my heart to commence the “Gospel Standard;” and I am sure that thousands of dear souls will join me in that expression of blessing. I bless him that he has kept me firm to the truths set forth in its first No., and not afraid, as I have given proof of late, to defend them, though the ignorance of those truths, in some of their bearings at least, of a few persons who are amongst us, has caused such persons to be displeased with me. Some there may be, and doubtless are, who are not candid enough publicly to declare their true sentiments, keeping them on the background from time to time; but may God keep me too frank and honest for that. Three years and a half ago I gave up an earthly paradise for the sake of the truth and a good conscience. I bless God that he has prolonged my life to the present moment, and that he has made some use of me, as I trust he has, spiritually and temporally, for the good of his people.

What my time may yet be here I know not; put I most devoutly pray that, come my end when it may, I may be found to the last having earnestly contended for the truth of God, and that I may be enabled unwaveringly to say, “I have fought the fight,”—with sin and my own heart especially, “I have kept the faith,”—taught and given to me, I trust, by the blessed Spirit; “henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness:’ O that I could always feel like this, as I do while I am now writing, and as I hare felt ever since the departure of my dear wife! Hymn 525 I feel to be mine also; and I desire that verse 3 may be put on my tomb:

“For me Christ bore the wrath of God;

For me he in the winepress trod;

He magnified the law for me, 

And I for ever am set free.”

O! How I have looked at the case of Ezekiel, and derived increased comfort therefrom! The Lord, without assigning any reason whatever, took away his wife at “a stroke” (24:16); yet he was neither to mourn nor weep, nor yet to shed tears. Was it not cruel thus to take away “the desire of his eyes?” Ah, no! As Mr. Taylor said at the grave of my dear child, “Such a bereavement as this might look like a robbery; but it is not so.” “Even so, Father; for so it seemed good in thy sight.” Beyond this we cannot go, and to this divine sovereignty, both in providence and grace, I would ever bow. May my reader, if it be the Lord’s sovereign will, feel as I feel at this moment. I have never before experienced anything like it since 1847, when in the Wilderness of the Temptation; and then it was only for a short time. Now for more than three weeks I have had almost uninterrupted happiness, sometimes even ecstasies of joy; and feel that I could now shout aloud, “Glory, honour, praise, and power, be unto the Lamb for ever. Jesus Christ is my Redeemer. HALLELUJAH!”

John Gadsby

Jan. 18, 1872