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    Memoirs of Mrs. Rebecca Steward
    Memoirs of Mrs. Rebecca Steward
    Memoirs of Mrs. Rebecca Steward
    Ebook136 pages1 hour

    Memoirs of Mrs. Rebecca Steward

    By T. G. (Theophilus Gould) Steward

    ()

    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 15, 2013
    Memoirs of Mrs. Rebecca Steward

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      Book preview

      Memoirs of Mrs. Rebecca Steward - T. G. (Theophilus Gould) Steward

      Project Gutenberg's Memoirs of Mrs. Rebecca Steward, by T. G. Steward

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: Memoirs of Mrs. Rebecca Steward

      Author: T. G. Steward

      Release Date: December 22, 2011 [EBook #38383]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMOIRS OF MRS. REBECCA STEWARD ***

      Produced by Suzanne Shell, Matthew Wheaton and the Online

      Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This

      file was produced from images generously made available

      by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

      MEMOIRS OF

      Mrs. Rebecca Steward,

      CONTAINING:

      A FULL SKETCH OF HER LIFE,

      WITH VARIOUS SELECTIONS FROM HER WRITINGS AND LETTERS;

      ALSO CONTRIBUTIONS FROM BISHOP CAMPBELL, D.D.,

      PROF. B. F. LEE, OF WILBERFORCE UNIVERSITY,

      B. T. TANNER, D.D., EDITOR OF THE Christian Recorder,

      REV. T. GOULD, MRS. ELIZABETH LLOYD, AND WM. STEWARD,

      BY REV. T. G. STEWARD.

      The motto I taught my boys was Aim at the Sun! If you do not bring it down, you will shoot higher than if you had aimed at the earth.—Rebecca Steward.

      Her children shall rise up and call her blessed.

      PUBLISHED AT THE

      Publication Department of the A. M. E. Church,

      No. 631 Pine St., Philadelphia, Pa.

      1877.

      Copyright, 1877, by Rev. T. G. Steward.

      To DANIEL A. PAYNE, D.D.,

      Senior Bishop of the African Methodist Episcopal Church:

      IN RECOGNITION OF HIS LEARNING, TALENTS AND PIETY:

      AND AS A TESTIMONIAL TO HIS HIGH APPRECIATION

      OF FEMALE EXCELLENCE, THIS LITTLE

      VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY

      INSCRIBED.

      THE AUTHOR.

      CONTENTS.

      Introduction 3

      In Memoriam, Poem 7

      PART I.

      CHAPTER I.—Ancestory and Parents 11

      CHAPTER II.—Birth, Home, etc. 16

      CHAPTER III.—Wife, Mother, Writer 22

      CHAPTER IV.—Children all married. 28

      CHAPTER V.—Retrospection. 44

      Reminiscences, by Bishop Campbell, 52

      My Recollections,—Prof. B. f. Lee, 60

      Mrs. Rebecca Steward, by Dr. Tanner, 67

      Mrs. Rebecca Steward, By Rev. T. Gould. 71

      Aunt Rebecca Steward,—Mrs. E. Lloyd, 76

      PART II.

      Two Years On The Brink Of Jordan. 81

      Sanctification, by Mrs. R. S. 106

      Sanctification, by Mrs. R. S. 113

      Sanctification, conclusion by Mrs. R. S. 118

      Story, by Mrs. R. S. 125

      Poetry, by Mrs. R. S. 128

      INTRODUCTION

      life finished, is a proper subject for contemplation and study. To the Christian, whose eye is ever turning to the end of life, nothing can be more interesting than the life and death of the saints. It is never difficult to secure a large congregation to the funeral services of a well known Christian.

      In looking upon a life closed, from a Christian standpoint, we see the Divine and the human blended. We see human nature moulded by divinely cast circumstances; we see character developed and displayed through these occasional circumstances. The hidden man of the heart is brought out, and we are able to see the inner through the outer life.

      To this pleasant and profitable study, the reader of these pages is invited. He will be brought in contact with a life, humble and perhaps commonplace, but interesting at every step, because always earnest and real. He is invited to follow that life through a responsible, laborious and thorny pathway; and to see manifest, a character always glowing in brightness and stronger than any emergency.

      He may learn the secret of that brightness and strength if he will. It is not of man but of God. He may hear a faith express itself before great difficulties (as I have often times) in these words: "Who art thou O great mountain? before Zerubbabel, thou shalt become a plain." Zech. IV. 7.

      And, if his eyes are cleared to see the things of God, as were those of Elisha's servant, as he and his master stood in the midst of the Syrian hosts at Dothan, he will see, not the mountains round about full of horses and chariots of fire; but a heavenly light streaming down upon the toiler, and a crown of resplendent glory held in her full view;—an angelic hand guiding her as she slowly pursues her way, sometimes weeping but often singing, through the inspiration of the hope set before her.

      In presenting a sketch of this life I attempt to fulfill a threefold duty. First, it is an act of obedience to the feelings of my own heart. An imperious sentiment forces me to the task. This book is the tribute I bring to cast upon the tomb of a loved mother! Secondly, I essay to discharge this duty in obedience to the wish of many relatives and dear friends. I feel myself honored in a very high degree in being thus called to so delicate a responsibility, and I can but deeply feel my inabilities. Knowing, however, their sincere regard for the person whose name I endeavor to commemorate, I feel somewhat encouraged to entrust to their generosity my best efforts. Lastly, the interests of Christianity seem to demand this at my hands. A voice from above which I regard as that of the Master urges me to lay before the Christian world this life, as a help and solace to the many struggling ones. Reverently bowing to this call, and imploring His blessings upon the humble effort, I assume the pen. May the Lord own the work! And here I desire also to express my profound thanks to those distinguished Christians, who have contributed most essentially to this volume, and to the many more, whose letters of sympathy and love have furnished inspiration to the performance of this sad, yet pleasing duty.

      T. G. S.

      In Memoriam.

      BY

      WILLIAM STEWARD

      (WILL.)

      They are love's last gifts, bring ye flowers, pale flowers.—

      Mrs. Hemans.

      I stand alone beside the silent mound,

      The dull, cold earth beneath me, and the sky

      Dark blue o'er head.—The spacious hills around

      Nor charms the gaze of my grief wearied eye;

      Sad, tired, forlorn, I sink upon the sod,

      With rev'rent awe and mournful bareéd head,

      I try to raise my thoughts to mother's God,

      And with affection contemplate the dead.

      I am a boy again—a lisping child,

      With sunny face and merry prattling tongue;

      I totter forth with joyous fancy wild,

      And sing the lullaby we last night sung;

      My young heart bounds with radiant happiness

      As some new toy my angel-mother gives,

      Or stoops to pat my head with sweet caress,

      And my glad lips her cherished kiss receives.

      Now I am grown to boyhoods first estate;

      And thorns of life 'gin prick me one by one,—

      Now aspiration's hopes, my thoughts elate,

      And now by disappointments am cast down;

      The daily avocations of the farm

      Bring each in turn their elements of woe,

      But mother's heart, its beatings always warm,

      Is a sure haven where I ever go.

      Th' unruly horse my youthful strength o'erpowers,

      Or vicious cattle wear my patience bare,

      Each is recounted of in evening hours,

      In boyhood's confidence in mother's ear,—

      Ah! we six childish ones with each our cares—

      Bespeak we each ones place, in mother's heart,

      Where we each pour our trouble, hopes and fears,

      And mother, tenderly takes each one's part.

      And at th' appointed hour the father comes;

      His day's work o'er, prompt, day and day the same,

      Then happiest ours of all the happy homes

      Our lessons coning, or with sportive game,—

      Oh would those days of childhood linger still—

      The ev'ning game prolong—e'en daily task

      Is welcomed linger! youthful years ye will

      Be vanished and your stay in vain we ask!

      Too soon with quickning steps the eager days

      Bring manhood's strength—our childhood all outgrown

      And then for life we take our sep'rate ways,

      Each son and daughter choose a course their own;

      Too soon, alas! the shadowy curtain falls

      And sorrows, real, begin to cast their gloam,

      Our consciences' tickle with increasing galls

      As each new silv'ry hair comes to our home.

      Dear cherished ones, thy load we now wish lighter,

      Since we are grown, and see thy waning years,

      Thy daily walks we would see fair and brighter,

      But ev'ry effort still augments thy cares;

      Affliction's hand, spares not the burdened mother,

      But suff'rings, long, great, are thy constant lot;

      Nor stintless hand divides it with another

      Who'd die for thee and for thee be forgot.

      Grown, stalwart boys and buxome girls we all are

      And fain would bring renown to thy dear name—

      Pride to thy heart, and comfort to thy leisure

      By some good noble deeds, and worthy fame,

      Alas, how short we've come! When thou complaisant

      Looked on expectant for some virtuous act,

      How Self appeared like some fierce tigress couchant,

      And we with evil motive seemed impact!

      And thou art gone! Well do I remember

      Our childhood's days again—I'd live them o'er—

      When chilly blasts of sleeting, bleak December

      Kept us, long ev'nings, close within the door,

      We stories begged and then some Bible tale—

      Of David's valor, or Saul's treachery

      Of Moses meekness or Methus'lah hale—

      Of Abraham's faith or Esau's jealousy.

      Of Enoch's constancy in serving God,

      Of Joseph, sold a slave; of Egypt's kings,

      Of Pharaoh's plagues, and Moses' wond'rous rod,

      And of the Psalms which ev'ry Christian sings,

      Of John the Baptist, Christ the living Word

      Which was made flesh, and came and dwelt with men,

      Who was, and is, and shall be, God

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