The Life And Testimony Of John Vincent Jr.

Earthen Vessel 1871:

Sacred Scenes In The Dying Chamber Of The Late Master John Vincent, Of Newcastle-Upon-Tyne

“God shall wipe away tears from off all faces.”

Mr. Editor,—I have received from different parts, and from friends, a desire to know about the life and death of my dear son, JOHN VINCENT, junr. He departed this life on Lord’s-day evening; January 8, at 5:30, p.m., after a short but severe illness, lasting only about sixteen days, at the age of fourteen years. He was first taken with a severe cold; this turned to Gastric Fever, then a gathering in his right ear, from a tumour; which ended his sufferings. I see in my Family Bible, the following entry, written by myself— “John Vincent was born January 20, 1857.” He was much afflicted when a child; we expected every day to be his last, when about three months old. One day when his mother was looking up to the Lord for some promise concerning him, the following promise was spoken with much power, leaving a sweetness and savour from the Holy One—“Spare his life, there is a blessing in it.” From thence-forward he began to amend, and soon became a healthy child; and truly he was spared to be a blessing to all the family, and to all who came in contact with him. He was blessed in life, and blessed in his death, (if I may be allowed to call it death). I only wish all poor fearful things who fear dying, had been in his chamber when his soul left his body: I should think they could scarcely be left any more to fear that monster—for death is so in appearance only. In memory he surpassed all I ever came near: and for learning he excelled many. In one of our best academies for learning in Newcastle, the master told me he was the best Greek scholar he ever knew of his age: in fact, he could read any language, as well, and better than I can read plain English: and being blessed with a strong memory, he could read anything once and repeat it without the book, with all the ease imaginable. He had a general knowledge of everything going on in the world; so that he was applied to by all our family, at all times, for any information they might require. He commenced his studies as soon as he was up in the morning, and pursued them till night; he could not be kept from them. In daily deportment, he used generally, such language, as became in every respect, a thorough young gentleman.

Let us, however, leave that department; and look at his few last days; so far as the Lord may help me. The first very striking remark he made to me about heaven, was only a short time before he was taken ill. I conducted the service in our chapel in New Bridge street that Lord’s-day morning: when I related a solemn and beautiful dream which I had when a very young man, thirty years ago; this made a great impression on his mind. He was so much delighted with it, that when I came home, a few minutes after him, on ringing the bell, he came and opened the door, and clasped his dear hands, and his eyes sparkled again, and he asked warmly how it was I had never repeated it to him before? I scarcely knew how to answer him: I said, “because I wish to speak of these things at Chapel, so that you may want to go to hear them.” But, the fact is, I was so surprised, I did not know what to say. The dream I repeated was this: I thought I was dead; and was taken straight to heaven; and after I had been there admiring the heavenly world for a long time; beholding the blessed LORD JESUS CHRIST seated on a glorious throne, surrounded with millions of spirits and holy angels, all engaged in giving honour unto the Lamb, bowing, and casting their crowns at his footstool, and singing the new song of Moses and the Lamb: then I took a walk round: and the first man I spoke to, was taken from this earth to heaven, (as he told me) one year and a half before Christ came into this world: then there was another who was taken just about the time of Christ’s birth: and then there were others after his Incarnation. Then I began to look if I could see or find any I had known when I was on earth. Presently, I found my dear father; and after we had been talking of the beautiful country, my father said, “I have been looking for you, I expected to see you here.” And I answered, “and I expected to find you here too; and now, Father, What do you think of this blessed place? He said, “I think, had we known what glory awaited us, we never should have cared for millions of years of troubles in the lower world; as this place in five minutes more than makes up for all the long faces we had to pull when on this earth.”

As I repeat this I am lost in wonder, that it should have been brought to my mind thirty years after I had the dream; and then it is so solemn to me that it should make such impressions on my own dear son’s mind.

“Wonders of Grace to God belong;

Repeat His mercies in your song.”

About a week after this relation of my dream, my dear son was taken ill; and in all his sufferings I never saw him shed one tear; or be the least cast down in his spirits. I did not trouble him much about his afflictions; nor respecting death; only now and then kindly dropped a word: now and again a word on dying: nor did his dear mother. We watched him night and day, in all his illness. His mother, although so weak in body, never tired; nor did I, night nor day, until it was all over. Some of his remarks to me, were most cutting to my feelings: some of them almost too much for my mind to think of. “Father” he said, “I am very ill: I think I am dying: what a while it will be before I shall see you again!” This sentence made tears roll down my face.” “Father, what are you crying for?” said he. In order to hide my grief, I said I had spilled some water as I was about to give him some to drink. I can only repeat a few words, as they are too much for me. He was much against oppression; and the day before he died, he was anxious to know how the poor French were getting on; and sorrily complained of the oppression of the Germans over them. In all his afflictions he kept comparing himself, and his position to the poor French and German soldiers dying on the battle field, and him dying on a good bed, and surrounded with kind father and mother, and sisters; with every comfort—and frequently said, “The Lord bless you my father, God bless you; you are a kind father: the Lord bless my mother; she is kind to me.”

I must come to his last night: his reason appeared gone: my prayer to my Lord, was, that He would appear; and that sweet hymn came cheering me up—

“The Christian’s hope shall never fail.”

His dear mother’s portion was, Romans 9:23—“That He might make known the riches of His glory,” &c. So we comforted one another with these precious promises; and the Lord did fulfil this in us—”As thy days, so thy strength shall be!”

On Lord’s-day, about twelve at noon, he came to himself; and then it was a scene worth millions of worlds to me, and to all who witnessed it. He called his mother first; blessed her in the name of the Lord; and then called his father; and then his sisters; and then our dear men, each by name and blessed us all; and then asked his mother to bless him; and then asked her—“Which will the Lord take first? you, or I, mother?” We told him, he was going first; and then, he looked round, and asked us, what we were crying for? and with a look, and a smile, and with a sharp, quick, voice—which will never be forgotten—he told us all to leave off crying directly; and he laughed quite out, and shouted, “I am happier than you all; Father! down on your knees and pray; I don’t mean pray: bless the Lord.” I went down on my knees directly; and as the Lord helped me, I did for a minute or so; seeing it was near the end of my dear son here. As I got up, he said, “Take the Bible and read.” I read Psalm 23; and such a scene of joy as I never saw, “his countenance brightened up as bright as an angel’s. As soon as I had done, he called out, “Father, down on your knees, and bless the Lord! Which I did, I think I never did so bless the Lord before in my life. After I had done he called out, “Where is the Lord going to take me to? To heaven my dear; to heaven,” he said, with his eyes beaming with joy. “I wonder the dear Lord should come for such a pig as I am.” His dear mother answered, “My precious child, if you are a pig, what are some here? so contrary to his loving conduct; but depend on it, he felt his position as a sinner, before a great, and mighty God: for his precious soul was filled with glory: his voice failed; and he commenced singing in a humming voice to himself. I asked him what he was singing? he had just strength to answer, “Bits of tunes I know.” These were the last words he spoke. He had a few short pains, and then his feet turned cold; he laid quite still: his breath got weaker and weaker; with some humming noise of tune, till his breath left his body, without a struggle or a sigh, and this finished the course of one of the best of children; one of the most loving that ever lived. I thought I never saw dear Watts’s hymn more to the purpose, than when I asked him what he was singing,

Hark! when you hear my heart strings break, how sweet the minutes roll,

A mortal paleness on my cheek, and glory in my soul.

I must conclude. I was enabled to make some solemn remarks at our chapel on the following Lord’s-day, from his mother’s promise. Our respected ministerial brother, Joseph Bailey, buried my son; and gave at the grave a most suitable and solemn address. Many things I have left out; they would swell your pages. The old enemy Satan thrusts sore at me sometimes, asking me if I serve my God for naught? But, I am helped to answer, “No, Satan, my God blest me in my soul and body, and blest my sons and daughters; and blest my wife; and blest me in my basket and store; and I must say, the death of my son, has so strengthened my soul; so loosened my tongue to speak in my Master’s name; that I never know how to leave off talking of Him who is all over glorious in his mercy, majesty, and power; he has led me, and fed me and mine; and His promise is still, “As thy day, so shall thy strength be.” In days past and gone, He has so confirmed my hope, that I can say, “He will never leave me in trouble to sink.”

I remain, dear C. W. Banks, yours in the Lord,

JOHN VINCENT,

3, Picton Place, Newcastle-on-Tyne.

February, 1871.