The Life And Testimony Of Elizabeth Warren

Gospel Standard 1897:

Death.  On Dec. 28th. 1896. aged 31, Elizabeth Annie Warren.

My dear daughter has from her earliest childhood had a pretty clear knowledge of the letter of divine truth, being, at the age of six, in great distress for fear she should never go to heaven. She was always very willing to go where the truth was preached, whatever part of the world she was in. At the age of seventeen, not being able to get to where I then worshipped, she went among the General Baptists, and joined a Bible class. Some took her for a decided Christian, and tried to persuade her to be baptized and join the church. She spoke to me about it, and not being satisfied at the time that she was a changed character, I solemnly talked to her about the nature of the step she was about to take. I find recorded in her diary that she thought at the time that I was a narrow-minded bigot, but in later years she blessed God that it had saved her from confessing with her lips what her heart did not feel. I had some hope for many years that she was a vessel of mercy; sometimes my hopes ran high, and at others I seemed to sink in my feelings when I saw something that grieved me such as pride but I never left off crying to the Lord on her behalf. Whenever I wrote to her, I tried to impress upon her that “true religion was more than a notion; that something must be known and felt.”

All the year 1889 I felt much encouraged in seeing how she seemed to love the cause and things of God. She sympathized with me and the friends at Wimbledon in the trial we were then under. The Lord at this time blessed her in a marked way under the ministry of Mr. Bond, who, on Dee. 15th, 1889, preached from the words, “O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs,” etc. (Song. 2:14), which was made a great blessing to her; it raised a sweet hope in her that she was one of the Lord’s doves. Soon after this she went to America, and got into a dark state, believing that she was deceived and trading on the experience of others. She went to Chicago, and was there taken ill and brought into great distress about her eternal state; in such darkness as to question all she had felt before. In this distress of mind she wrote to me in the summer of 1893, telling me all that she was passing through, begging an interest in my prayers, and asking me if I thought there was any cause for her to hope that the Lord would have mercy upon her. I must leave the godly reader to judge what I felt when I received this; I could hardly read a line for tears of mingled joy and sorrow; I felt sure it was the Lord’s work and an answer to my prayers.

She returned to New York to my dear friends’ house (Mr. and Mrs. Kilby), whose kindness to our dear daughter I shall never forget; they were like a father and mother to her. Here the Lord favoured her under the ministry of Mr. Kilby. She was able to tell the friends what the Lord had done for her, and was accepted and baptized by Mr. Kilby. On the Lord’s day, Dec. 3rd, 1893, she was not able to stay for one evening service, so wrote to Mr. Kilby the following lines the same evening:

“My thoughts are with you all this evening. I should love to be with you, singing hymns of praise. My soul is filled with joy and praise. Would you know what causes this joy? ‘Tis the voice of my beloved! behold he cometh, leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills,’ over all my sins; he calls me to his banqueting house, spreading over me his banner of love, filling my soul with so much joy and praise that I feel my full soul cannot hold any more of everlasting love. The Song of Solomon is the language of my soul to-day. Truly ‘his mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely.’ O the joys of realizing that I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine. O that he would set me up from the dunghill of my sin and misery and filthy pride, and set me among the sons and daughters of the Lord God Almighty! 

‘My willing soul would stay 

In such a frame as this,

And sit and sing herself away 

To everlasting bliss.’

I know this sweet feeling cannot last, but surely I can never forget it. ‘This is the day the Lord has made: I will rejoice and be glad in it.’”

She returned from America in the end of the year 1895 as a trained nurse, hoping to stay in the neighbourhood of Wimbledon, where she could sit under the word while getting on in her profession. We now saw signs of her failing health, but she would not give up until the very last. On entering Mr. Newton’s chapel one Sunday morning, they were giving out that beautiful hymn, “Though here day by day his love shall see good, Upon me to lay his fatherly rod,” etc.; and feeling very low, it cheered her, and was made a blessing to her. The last lady she nursed was exceedingly kind to her, and writing since has said that she had some new and sweet conversation with her on the heavenly state. She said how she longed for it, showing the state of her mind at this time.

She caught a chill, and lung complaint set in very rapidly, so that she took to her bed about the end of November, but I do not think she thought she was going to die until the last week. Noticing how bad she looked, I said to her, “Well, my dear, how is your mind on the solemn question of death?” She said, “Sometimes dark, and sometimes I have a good hope that it will be well with me,” or words to that effect. She now grew worse and worse daily. She began to speak about the Lord’s goodness to her, and how unworthy she felt; she said she was pillowed up with mercies. She had so many friends during her illness, she had only to ask for a thing, and there it was. She was continually thanking the Lord for his goodness to her, begging for the smallest place in heaven as one of the least. She sang one line of a hymn (we think it was 103, Gadsby’s selection), but it was so feeble that her sister could hardly catch the words. She spent much time in prayer, thanking the Lord for his unspeakable mercies. Some of the time she seemed insensible; but when a verse of Scripture was quoted, or a line of a hymn, she would take it up, showing that her mind was on heavenly things.

She was taken much worse in the morning of the 27th. She said, “Take me to my Father’s house.” Her mother said, “Do you mean your Heavenly Father’s?” She said “Yes, but take me to my earthly father’s house first.” She called for her father, as she had such a lot to tell him. Being some three miles away, it was some time before I could get to her, and there was much fear that she would die before I could reach her. Seeing the anxiety of all, she said, “There would be time;” as the Lord had told her that she should not die before she had seen her father. As soon as I entered the room, she stretched out both her dear arms, as if she would embrace me, telling me to sit down and be calm, and she would tell me what the Lord had done for her. I knelt down by her bedside, and took her hands, and thanked the Lord for his goodness to her now in the hour of death. She pressed my hand as though she felt every word I said. A little time after this she said, “Jesus only.” Some one in the room said, “Poor dear.” She took it up, saying, “No, not poor, but rich.” She wanted us to sing the tune ‘Rutherford,’ but we could not sing, so I took her hand, and repeated the two verses: “The sands of time are sinking,” &c.,’, and “O Christ! he is the fountain,” &c. Her face beamed with delight; she pressed my hand, and said, “How precious!” Most of what she said after this was in prayer. Thus she passed away to be for ever with the Lord. 

R. W.