Trials and Triumphs of Faith
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Mary Cole >> Trials and Triumphs of Faith
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17 Produced by Timeless Truths Online Library, Charles Franks,
Juliet Sutherland, Joel Erickson and the DP Team
TRIALS AND TRIUMPHS OF FAITH
BY MARY COLE
Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.
Put on the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand against the
wiles of the devil.--_Paul_.
PREFACE
The history of the world consists mainly of the stories of the lives of
certain men and women whose deeds have been of sufficient importance to
make them worth relating. The lives of some persons have been worth
narrating because of their abounding in deeds of great merit, such as the
lives of Washington, Gladstone, Frances E. Willard, and Joan of Arc. The
lives of others have been thought worth narrating because of their great
wickedness, as the lives of Nero and Queen Mary of England.
But the church too has a history. This history differs from the history of
the world, in that it does not record merely the doings of man, but the
workings of God through man as his instruments. God is a jealous God who
manifests himself only through those who are willing to give him all the
glory. Hence not many names of the wise, powerful, talented men of the
earth have been enrolled on the history of the church, since they were not
humble enough to submit fully into God's hands. In the church truly this
scripture has been proved: "God has used the weak things of the world to
confound the mighty."
Sister Mary Cole, of whose life this book is a brief, authentic sketch, had
a natural inheritance that seemed calculated to shut her forever out of a
place in the history of the world or of the church. Born with a body that
from her earliest childhood was racked with pain, deprived by ill health of
education, she seemed naturally unfitted to fill any place in the world and
doomed to be only a burden to herself and her friends. How God took her,
healed her, and fitted her for his service, and how he used her as an
instrument for his glory, is the story of her life.
The publication of the story of her life was so remote from her thoughts
that it was only by the solicitation of some one who had been greatly
helped by her faith and experience and the workings of God through her, and
who was unwilling that her trials and triumphs should be lost as a part of
the history of the church, that she was prevailed upon to write this brief
narrative of her life and work. The story of her life would not, indeed, be
worth telling were it stripped of the manifestations of God's power. As you
read this simple story, you will see clearly that, as Sister Cole has
herself expressed so many times, what she is she is by God's grace, and
that all she has accomplished she has accomplished through God's power. If
you will take at their value the oft-repeated expressions, "God told me,"
"God spoke to me," "God made me to understand," realizing that these words
tell us something that actually happened, you will get some idea of how
marvelously God can use even the weakest members of the human race.
Aside from the interest this brief history will have for those readers who
have had the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with Sister Cole and who
have had the privilege of listening to her stirring messages delivered
under the anointing of God's Spirit, it can not fail to interest and profit
all who take pleasure in reading about the dealings of God with man.
It is the sincere wish of the author and of all those who had a hand in
preparing this work, that it will show some their greater privileges in the
kingdom of God, and that it will help some to covet the divine help,
guidance, and power that are the heritage of all God's children.
J.W.P.
CONTENTS
I. Birth and Ancestry
II. Early Afflictions
III. Incidents of Childhood
IV. Events During the War
V. Conversion and Sanctification
VI. Events of Early Christian Life
VII. My Call to the Ministry
VIII. Seven Years of Preparation
IX. Healed by Divine Power
X. Entering the Gospel Field
XI. Laboring in a New Field
XII. Out of Sectarian Confusion
XIII. The Evening Light
XIV. Various Experiences in Gospel Work
XV. Various Experiences--Continued
XVI. God's Care Over Me
XVII. My California Trip
XVIII. Visiting Relatives in the East
XIX. Mission Work in Chicago
XX. A Battle With Smallpox
XXI. Camp-Meetings in Various States
XXII. Caring for My Aged Mother
XXIII. Exhortation to Workers and Ministers
POEMS
Birthday Lines in Memory of February 5, 1822
The Refiner's Fire
Chapter I
Birth and Ancestry
Like many other people of European descent, born in this country, I can
trace my ancestry back to their emigration from Europe; but being so far
removed from European environment, my nationality can best be expressed by
the short but comprehensive term, American.
My father was born in Hunterdon County, New Jersey. He was a descendant of
the German Hessians who were brought to this country by the English to
fight against the Americans in the Revolutionary War. It is said that from
his mother's side he inherited a small portion of Turkish blood. Father's
childhood days were spent near some of the Revolutionary battle-fields,
where he played with cannon balls that had been used during that great
struggle. Perhaps his early surroundings may have developed in him the
spirit of partiotism that manifested itself later when, during the Civil
War, he stood by his country and defended the stars and stripes.
My mother was born in Ohio near the Pennsylvania border, but was reared in
Carroll County, Ohio.
Her father, whose name was Fleming, was of Scotch-Irish descent. His
ancestors came from Ireland at an early day and settled first in
Pennsylvania, and later in Ohio. When Mother's great-grandfather and his
cousin came over from Ireland and landed in New York, they heard a parrot
talking. It said, "A beggar and a clodhopper; a beggar and a clodhopper."
They had never heard of a parrot before. The great-grandfather said to his
cousin, "Pat, Pat, what kind of a world have we got into? Aven the burds of
the woods are making fun of us."
My mother's mother was of German descent, and could speak the German
language; but she died when mother was but a small child. Very soon
afterward Mother's father married an Irish lady by the name of Margret
Potter. Mother's stepmother took her drams, had dances, etc.; but Mother
was spiritually inclined. In her eighteenth year while attending a
Methodist meeting, she was convicted of her sins. She was not saved at the
meeting, but prayed through by herself to an experience. God revealed
himself to her in a marvelous way and gave her the witness that she was
born of him.
Mother's father was a Universalist until after she was grown. At that time,
although he had never professed a change of heart, he joined the Christian
church. Mother's steady Christian character was, therefore, developed
without human encouragement; she got help from no one but God. Her older
sister said to her one day, "Rebecca, our dear mother died a Universalist;
are you going to forsake her faith?" Mother answered, "If Mother did the
best she knew, that is between her and her God; it is my duty to do the
best I know." Later this sister joined the Catholic Church and finally died
in the Catholic home for widows.
I was born August 23, 1853, the seventh of a family of twelve
children--eight sons and four daughters. Two died before the last two were
born, so that there were never more than ten of us living at the same time.
The oldest child was Jeremiah. Mother said that at his birth she gave him
to the Lord, and prayed earnestly that God would make him like Jeremiah of
old. God chose him for the ministry, and he died triumphant in the faith.
He discerned the one body, the church, from the time the truth of the unity
of God's people was first preached. His body lies in the cemetery near
Hammond, Louisiana.
The second child was John. He enlisted in the army and gave his life for
his country. Out of this family of twelve children, God chose three for the
ministry: one of these has gone to his reward and the other two remain to
work for the Master.
At the time of my birth, my parents lived on a farm adjoining the town of
Decatur, in the State of Iowa. Later the town was enlarged until it
included Father's farm, which was sold for town lots. My parents remained
in Iowa until I was a year old, and then moved to Illinois, where they
remained for two years. When I was three years old, they settled in Pettis
County, Missouri, near the town of Belmont, afterwards called Windsor. It
was there that I spent my childhood and the years of my young womanhood.
Chapter II
Early Afflictions
"Misery stole me at my birth
And cast me helpless on the wild."
The words of this hymn express my condition from my first advent into the
world. My mother had overworked before I was born; and, as a result, I
suffered bodily affliction from infancy. I was scarely two years old when I
began having spasms. My eyes would roll back in my head, I would froth at
the mouth, the tendons of my jaws would draw, causing me to bite my cheeks
until the blood ran from my mouth, and I would become unconscious. Although
I would remain unconscious for only a short time, yet while I lay in that
condition I seemed as one dead. Upon regaining consciousness, I seemed
dazed all the rest of that day; and not until I had had a night's sleep,
did I have a clear perception of what was going on around me. Sometimes two
or three days would pass before I was fully restored.
I hada number of these spansm when I was too young to know anything about
them. The first one of which I remember, I begain to turn blind and did not
know what was the matter; but I soon learned the nature of my affliction. I
had to be very careful what I did. If I exposed myself to the direct rays
of the sun or even looked straight at the sun, I was likely to have a
spasm; if I drank sweet milk it was likely to have the same result.
When I quit school at the age of ten years and had nothing to occupy my
mind, my thoughts centered on my suffering and the frequency of my spasms
seemed to increase. After having a spasm my mind was greatly afflicted with
melancholy and depression. I dreaded the recurrence of the fits, and looked
forward to their coming with such abhorrence that often the fear of having
a spasm would bring on the very thing I dreaded.
From the time I can first recollect, most of my life was spent in sadness
and disappointment. It seemed as if my whole being were a mass of suffering
and affliction. The doctor said there was nothing sound about me but my
lungs. Most of my time I appeared to be nothing but a voice. So far as I
remember, not one day of that period of my life was passed without pain and
suffering. My high temper, of course, added mental suffering to the
physical.
Many times I wondered why I could not die. My suffering was greatly
increased by melancholy and mental depression. I often sat beside my mother
and cried, "Mother, why can't I die? Why did I not die when I was a child?
I am a trial to myself and to all around me." Mother would say, "Mary, God
has a bright design in all this. We do not know the reason why you are so
afflicted, but we will know sometime." With such comforting words she many
times soothed my troubled spirit. God blessed me with a dear Christian
mother. Her gentle, patient life--so loving and Christlike--stamped upon my
soul in early childhood the ideal of real Christian character. I had before
me constantly an example of what I ought to be. As I look back at those
days, my association with my mother seems to have been the only bright spot
in my early life.
At six years of age I began to have dyspepsia, and as a result, could eat
but very little food without suffering. Up to this time and later, I could
walk a mile or more; but was liable at any time to have a fit. When about
twelve or thirteen years of age, other afflictions set in, such as spinal
and female trouble.
In my fifteenth year I became a helpless invalid, and lay in bed for five
months at one time. When I first became helpless, I thought I was dying. I
knew if I went into eternity as I then was I would be lost, and suffered
terrible mental anguish. My dear mother came to my bedside with comforting
words: "Mary, put your trust in the Lord." I could move neither hand nor
foot but could only say, "Mother, I am trying to," knowing at the same time
that I was not capable of meeting the conditions--repentance, etc., I
decided that I would not tell Mother nor any one else that I felt that I
was lost, even if I died in that condition; but God in his mercy saw fit to
lengthen out my life.
Viewed from the standpoint of mature life, those early years remind me of
the experience of the Israel-ites when they came to Marah, where the waters
were bitter, and where Moses put something into the bitter waters to make
them sweet. In my unsaved condition, I was at Marah; but when the Lord
saved my soul, he put something into the bitter stream of my life that made
it sweet, and I can truly say, "My December is as pleasant as May: my
summer lasts all the year." Yes, I can now obey God's Word: "Rejoice
evermore; pray without ceasing; and in everything give thanks" (1
Thessalonians 5:14-16). Oh, what a wonderful change God wrought! It is all
through grace divine; for the promise is, "All things work together for
good to them that love God."
Chapter III
Incidents of Childhood
The old home farm near Windsor, Missouri, where I spent my childhood and
early womanhood, was heavily timbered on the west and the south. There was
also a good-sized apple orchard north of the house and a number of
beautiful shade trees in the yard, which gave the place a homelike
appearance. The house was very ordinary--just a large front room, a large
bedroom, an attic large enough for three or four beds, and a large log
kitchen.
In those days, and even until long after the Civil War, the houses were
lighted mostly by candles. The old-fashioned fireplace gave us both light
and heat in the rooms where they were, and made very pleasant the long
winter evenings. Of course, in many ways they were not equal to our modern
improvements, but we had some very happy times around the old fireplace.
Mother made the candles we used, in molds especially designed for that
purpose. I will not soon forget how I used to watch her put in the cotton
wick, tie it at a certain place, and then melt and pour in the tallow. As
soon as the tallow cooled, we had candles. Sometimes when we had no
candles, we used what was called a grease lamp. This was merely a saucer
with a little grease in it and a twisted rag, the greater part of which lay
in the grease in the bottom of the saucer. The end which extended up over
the edge of the saucer was lighted, and this device served as a lamp until
Mother could make more candles.
Near the house was a garden from which Mother used often to gather bouquets
to cheer me in my lonely hours. These loving acts of Mother's meant much to
me in my affliction. Jesus said that the gift of a cup of cold water will
be rewarded. I am sure that Mother's reward will be great.
When I was about five or six years old, an incident occurred which shows
that I, although greatly afflicted, was not altogether wanting in activity.
Two of my older sisters and I were playing on a shed adjoining one side of
the corn-crib. My sisters wanted to jump off the shed, but were a little
afraid to do so for fear they would hurt themselves. They finally decided
that they would have me jump first, and if it did not hurt me, then they
would jump. Little as I was, I understood their scheme. Nevertheless, I
jumped. It hurt me quite a little; but when they asked me if I was hurt, I
said, "No." Thinking then, that it would not hurt them, they jumped but
they were considerably hurt too. Again they asked if it hurt me, and I
admitted that it had. "Why did you not tell us?" "Because," I replied, "you
were playing off on me because I am the youngest, and I would not let you
know, so that you would have a chance to get hurt too."
One morning when I was about six years old, I was going to school in
company with my brothers and sisters and other children who went the same
road. It was late in the fall, and a heavy rain that had recently fallen,
made the narrow lane through which we were obliged to pass, very muddy.
Cattle had made deep tracks in the mud, in which the water had collected
and then frozen. The bubbles underneath the ice had the appearance of
money, and we children ran along looking at the bubbles, and saying "I have
found some money." All at once I was sure that I did see a real coin under
the ice at the bottom of one of the holes. When I called out "I have found
some money," my brothers came quickly to investigate; and, sure enough,
there was a fifty-cent piece stuck to the rim of an old pocket book. It had
lain there so long that the leather had all rotted away. I was so delighted
and spent so much time in enjoying the treasure I had found that I learned
but very little that day.
One of my earliest recollections is of committing these lines to memory:
"In His pure eyes it is a sin To steal a penny or a pin."
Not long after this, when I was about four years old, I think, I went with
my oldest sister to one of our neighbors on an errand. My sister, who could
weave, wanted me to go to the home of another neighbor near by to borrow a
part for the old-fashioned loom she was using. While at the house I saw a
piece of pink calico about an inch square that attracted my childish fancy.
I thought how nice it would be for the little quilt I had begun to piece.
As I had no pocket, I put the piece of calico into the bosom of my dress
and went back to my sister holding it as if I feared it would get away.
Noticing what I was doing, she said, "Mary, what is the matter?" "Nothing,"
I answered. "What have you there?" "Nothing," I replied again. Right there
I told two falsehoods, the first of which I had ever been guilty. They were
like black spots on a white robe. My sister said, "I know you have
something," and drew out my hand still grasping the scrap of calico. "Where
did you get it?" I told the truth then, and she said that I must go back
and tell the woman I had stolen it. She took me back; but she had to do all
the talking.
The old lady wanted to excuse me, and said, "Oh, let her have it; it
dosen't amount to anything"; but my sister said, "No, she shall not have
it, for she did not ask for it." Oh, how awful I felt! It was about a mile
to our house, and I cried nearly the whole way home. On the way I said,
"Ell, don't tell Mother"; and she promised that she would not. I had
experienced now what Paul meant when he said, "Sin revived and I died." It
was the first time in my life I had ever known what guilt was. Reproof
given at the first offense has saved me many temptations in later life.
Only twice afterward do I remember of having had a like temptation.
Perhaps the influence of this incident was strengthened by a story that my
mother related to me while I was still a child. This story made a deep
impression upon my young heart. In Carroll County, Ohio, not far from where
she was raised, there lived two families by the name of Long. The fathers
were brothers. Two boys of the two families used to trap for mink and other
fur-bearing animals during the winter season. As the fur of the mink at
that time brought a good price, the boys were more anxious to catch mink
than any other animal. One of the boys once found a mink in his cousin's
trap. When he told his mother what he had seen, she said, "Go back, take
the mink out of your cousin's trap, set the trap just as it was before, put
the mink into your own trap, and tell your cousin that you have caught a
mink; he will never know the difference."
The boy did as his mother advised, and the cousin never learned of the
deception until many years later. The boy who had stolen the mink went from
bad to worse until, during the outbreak of the Mormons, I think, he was
implicated in the murder of Colonel Davenport of Iowa. While on the
scaffold, he confessed that his first step downward was in taking the mink
out of his cousin's trap and telling a falsehood about it. God's Word was
verified: "For they have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind."
Parents, be careful what example you set before your children. If you set a
wrong example, they may rise up and curse you: but if you teach them the
good and right way, they will "rise up and call you blessed." If when
parents see one of their children entering upon his first temptation to
take things that do not belong to him, they would do their duty, there
would be more honest children today. "Train up a child in the way he
should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it."
From my earliest childhood I liked poetry and could readily commit it to
memory. I often learned poems that were quite difficult for one of my age.
The beautiful poems I learned were like rays of sunshine on my pathway and
added much comfort to a life that had but few pleasures.
I learned the alphabet at home and so made quite rapid progress after I
began attending school, although I was greatly hindered because of
stammering. Some of my teachers were very helpful to me in overcoming this
difficulty. When Mr. Nutter, who taught our school one winter, saw that I
could not recite because of my impediment of speech, he had all the classes
recite with me so as to take away the embarrassment. I felt very grateful
for his kindness.
One day when I was ten years old, I had a fit at school. Father thought
that while I was afflicted in this way, it would be hard on my mind for me
to study, and it would be best to keep me at home. During my last term at
school, I read in McGuffey's Fourth Reader, studied the second part of
Arithmetic, had learned to spell fairly well in the old Elementary Speller,
and had also begun geography--a study which I liked very much. I was
beginning to learn to write; but as I was left-handed, my movements were
very slow and awkward.
Chapter IV
Events During the War
I was eight years old when the Civil War began. The first event that I
remember in connection with the war was our teacher's dismissing school one
day so that we might go over to the public road to see the Union soldiers.
I suppose there were at least a regiment of these troops, if not more. As I
had never seen soldiers before, their fine appearance as they marched by,
dressed in their uniforms, with their guns, bayonets, drums, and full
military equipment, made a lasting impression on my childish mind.
At the beginning of the war, my father wished to move from the State where
we were then living. Missouri was a slave State and he knew that there was
trouble ahead. Perhaps father would have had his way, had not God shown
mother in a dream that he would protect us, and that we would be as safe in
Missouri as in any other place. Subsequent events proved that we did well
to obey God, for none of our stock or property was taken. The deaths of my
brother and sister were the most severe trials through which we had to
pass.
In January, 1862, the Federal soldiers again came to our neighborhood and
camped near the same place where I had first seen them; but, at this time,
the scene excited in me entirely different emotions. Snow was on the
ground; the weather was very cold; and the soldiers took rails and made a
large bonfire to keep themselves warm. The sky was lit up with the flames,
and to me, in my nervous condition, the scene was frightful.
That same evening some of the soldiers went down to our little town (then
called Belmont, afterwards Windsor), brought back to the camp with them the
hollow trunk of a tree containing a swarm of bees, and laid it down to take
out the honey. Mrs. Hammond, the wife of our nearest neighbor on the east,
who lived but a short distance from the camp, thinking that they were
planting a cannon, became frightened and came over to our house with her
two little children. She was afraid there was going to be a battle, and
sought our house as a place of safety. She wanted to stay all night. Father
pitied her; and in spite of the fact that the children were sick with
diphtheria, he felt that he could not turn her out.
Thus we children were all exposed to diphtheria; and as my nerves were in
such a bad condition, and as I was greatly frightened because of the news
from the camp and the presence of the sick children, I was the first victim
of the disease. The next to take it was my sister Katherine. Just before
she took her bed, she got her feet wet, and therefore had the disease in a
very malignant form. The doctor who was caring for her, assured us that she
was better, but he told some of the neighbors that she could not live until
morning. We did not know that she was seriously ill until Father, who was
sitting up with her that night, said, "Katy, it's time to take your
medicine." There was no answer; her gentle spirit had taken its flight.
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