The Life And Testimony Of Charity Scriven

Gospel Standard 1872:

Death. On December 21st, 1871, aged 55, Charity Scriven, a member of the church at Netheravon. 

She was blessed with some marks of grace while under the ministry of her late uncle, Mr. Stephen Offer, then pastor of the church at Netheravon, and was baptized by him in 1838. I was acquainted with her and her husband for more than 20 years, and during that time had many opportunities for converse, which I always found to be very encouraging to me. There was never anything like light, trifling conversation, but all was on the solemn subject of vital religion. She had very low views of herself. Nothing of a free-will character could be endured by her. She was much blessed, at times, by reading the “Gospel Standard” and Gadsby’s Hymns. The Bible was her companion. Mason’s Morning and Evening Portions were also among her favourites.

As she journeyed on she had many fears as to her interest in Christ. Her sinful, wretched nature sometimes made her ready to sink, and having a very weak constitution, she felt more and more the need of almighty grace. Once she said to a friend, “What have I been doing? It seems as if I have never been a real worshipper of God. Never had she seen, as she then did, the beauty of the Lord as an Advocate with the Father for poor sinners.” Thus, year after year,

“She wrestled hard, as we do now,

“With sins, and doubts, and fears.”

In the providence of God, the family removed, a few years ago, from Netheravon to Wootton Rivers. By this change she was too far away to attend the beloved chapel with her friends at N. This, I know, she felt much, and so did her friends, as there was no place of truth at W. She was now in a barren, soul-starving village. Her health, meantime, giving way, like a dove she mourned; and many times have I mourned for her on that very account. I was glad when she told me she had met with one good old saint that she could converse with, and many an hour did they spend together. This friendship continued until death. Although her weakness was so great, she came to witness the baptism of her dear sister at N. This was in September. I saw how weak she was; “But,” said she, “when I found it was my sister, I thought I must come.” Poor soul, nearly in the grave! Three weeks afterwards I baptized four more in the same river; and, to my astonishment, she came again. I said to her, as I shook her hand, “What! You here again?” “Ah,” she said, “I thought I must come. It was not for the sake of sight-seeing.” In the afternoon we sat down at the table of the Lord together; and before I could visit my dear people again (I was unable to attend through illness), she and our esteemed deacon, Thos. Carter, were in eternity. From that very time bronchitis set in, under which, feeling death approaching, she felt it most keenly. Sin, in its awful form, appeared before her. Darkness overwhelmed her poor soul with a deep sense of guilt and just condemnation. She said to her attendants, “God out of Christ is a consuming fire.” Here she tasted what it was that made the dear Lord to say (David was the type), “All thy billows are gone over me.” While in this deep water, she got out of her bed, fell prostrate on the floor, and then cried for mercy, just like the poor leper in Luke 5:12. She was often heard to say with Hart (802):

“Sins immense as is the sea!

Hide me, O Gethsemane!”

Then the Lord graciously appeared unto her. She said, “The Lord appeared unto me through the lattice.” The fear of death was now removed. She said she could see herself safe in the covenant now, and could say, “Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.” She said she could meet death now with pleasure, and would rather die than live, for fear of sinning against God. She wished to sing hymn 232, as the whole hymn had been blessed to her soul. She began to sing it; but her strength failed, and her sisters sang a part and read the rest, while she feelingly responded to every line.

A little before her departure she said:

“With what rapture he’ll embrace us.”

She was unable to say more, and, in a few hours, sweetly fell asleep, to be for ever with her Lord.

R. Mower

Shipton, Hunts.