CHAPTER XXI

"They also serve who only stand and wait."—Milton.

During the last few years of life Bessie Gilbert never left her invalid couch and bed. In addition to blindness she was liable to distressing attacks of deafness, to sleeplessness, agonising pain, and weary exhaustion. Her throat was often affected, swallowing was difficult. She had lost power in the upper limbs, could only use her hands for a few seconds to read the raised type for the blind, or to do a few stitches of chain work for those she loved; even that became impossible before the end. The record of work for the Institution dwindles down during these years, but she lived for it as completely as she had ever done. She would deny herself the one pleasure that remained—a visit from some one she loved, because it would exhaust her and render her incapable of the little she could now do.

For three or four years she received almost daily business letters from Colonel Fyers, anddictated replies to them when her health allowed, but this uncertain interposition was of little value, and by degrees matters of business ceased to be submitted to her. When any question on which she entertained a strong opinion was brought forward, she would occasionally explain her view in a letter to the Committee, but these letters also diminished in number. Her interest in individuals never decreased; the blind workpeople and their affairs occupied her to the very last.

In 1878 she heard that one of the workmen was about to marry a workwoman, since dead, who was blind, deformed, and very much out of health. She could not approve of such a marriage, and did her utmost to prevent it. She wrote to express her views, and sent a favourite sick-nurse to the Institution to emphasise them. The result was that she received the following letter, informing her that the engagement was at end:

Institution of the Association for theWelfare of the Blind.28 Berners Street, London, W.,3d August 1878.Madam—I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your very kind letter of the 2d inst., and to express to you how deeply I feel the very great interest you on all occasions have shown towards me, and especially now. I know you must have my welfare at heart, otherwise you would not have favoured me with this communication, for which I sincerely thank you. I, as well as L. W., have, through the means of your kind letter, seen the matter of our proposed marriage from a different point of view, and have therefore decided to act inharmony with your wishes, which no doubt are for our best.I regret very much that any uneasiness should have been caused you by this affair, and trust that in future nothing on my part will occur to cause it again.—I am, madam, your obedient servant,C. C.Miss Elizabeth Gilbert.

Institution of the Association for theWelfare of the Blind.

28 Berners Street, London, W.,3d August 1878.

Madam—I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your very kind letter of the 2d inst., and to express to you how deeply I feel the very great interest you on all occasions have shown towards me, and especially now. I know you must have my welfare at heart, otherwise you would not have favoured me with this communication, for which I sincerely thank you. I, as well as L. W., have, through the means of your kind letter, seen the matter of our proposed marriage from a different point of view, and have therefore decided to act inharmony with your wishes, which no doubt are for our best.

I regret very much that any uneasiness should have been caused you by this affair, and trust that in future nothing on my part will occur to cause it again.—I am, madam, your obedient servant,

C. C.

Miss Elizabeth Gilbert.

Bessie warmly approved of marriage for the blind, and was sometimes charged with promoting it injudiciously. In this case she would have been very glad if C. could have found a healthy, capable wife, who would have made him happy. She used to say that blindness was the strongest possible bond of sympathy between husband and wife; and as she did not for herself witness the untidiness and discomfort in the homes where man and wife are both blind, and the almost unavoidable neglect of young children, she could not share the objection of many members of the Committee to marriage between the workpeople.

In 1879 her widowed sister, the Hon. Mrs. Elliot, was married to Mr. Childers. Mr. Childers had not previously known Bessie personally, but he saw her several times afterwards, and was greatly impressed by her marvellous patience and resignation.

In one of her early interviews with him she had asked for information as to the Blind and Deaf Mute Education Bill, which Mr. Wheelhouse, member for Leeds, Mr. Mellor, and others, had introduced into the House of Commons, but had been unsuccessful in passing. She wished to seeany papers Mr. Wheelhouse could send, and was much interested in his efforts and in the correspondence which followed her request.

Many letters received at this time have been preserved, and they show the influence which, from her bed of pain, she exercised on all around her.

The following is from her old friend, Mr. Coxe, librarian of the Bodleian. It is his last letter to her; he died in the following July:

Northgate, Oxford,S. Stephen's Day, 1880.My very dear Bessie—How much I thank you for thinking of me on my sick-bed, and sending me such a welcome Christmas gift to perfume my existence. My wife immediately seized upon one (as owing, or due, to her) and carried off the rest to some secret store-room, unknown to me as yet, in my new house. I have been now nearly three months in my bed and bedroom; how dare I speak of it to you in a spirit other than of deep thankfulness that I have been allowed to brave all weathers, and to work unscathed even to my 70th year. Dear Fan ("old Fan!" it was such a pleasure seeing her!) will have told you what nice quarters we have fallen on wherein to end our days. It was one of the two houses I used in days gone by to covet; the other was old Mr. Parker's, now young Fred Morrell's. Well, dear Bessie, this season has had its message of peace too for you. I am sure that you have received and welcomed it; that simple message in these sad days of rebuke and blasphemy becomes more and more precious. I am not likely to be again a traveller, tho' I should like to see Hilgrove in his new home, only fifteen miles away, so that I am not likely to see you again in this life. May it be granted that we may enjoy a happy reunion in that which shall be. Best love to the "Duchess" and Nora,with much to yourself from yours, dearest Bessie, ever affectionately,H. O. Coxe.

Northgate, Oxford,S. Stephen's Day, 1880.

My very dear Bessie—How much I thank you for thinking of me on my sick-bed, and sending me such a welcome Christmas gift to perfume my existence. My wife immediately seized upon one (as owing, or due, to her) and carried off the rest to some secret store-room, unknown to me as yet, in my new house. I have been now nearly three months in my bed and bedroom; how dare I speak of it to you in a spirit other than of deep thankfulness that I have been allowed to brave all weathers, and to work unscathed even to my 70th year. Dear Fan ("old Fan!" it was such a pleasure seeing her!) will have told you what nice quarters we have fallen on wherein to end our days. It was one of the two houses I used in days gone by to covet; the other was old Mr. Parker's, now young Fred Morrell's. Well, dear Bessie, this season has had its message of peace too for you. I am sure that you have received and welcomed it; that simple message in these sad days of rebuke and blasphemy becomes more and more precious. I am not likely to be again a traveller, tho' I should like to see Hilgrove in his new home, only fifteen miles away, so that I am not likely to see you again in this life. May it be granted that we may enjoy a happy reunion in that which shall be. Best love to the "Duchess" and Nora,with much to yourself from yours, dearest Bessie, ever affectionately,

H. O. Coxe.

The year 1881 brought to Bessie a long fit of depression, due mainly to an attack of deafness; but she had also much anxiety with regard to the Association. She heard of custom diminishing, a manager dismissed for dishonesty, heavy losses upon Government contracts undertaken in order to give work to the blind throughout the winter, diminished income and subscriptions, and increased demands for aid. In the old days she would have stirred up her friends, made appeals through the press, organised a public meeting, and surmounted all difficulties.

The utmost she could now do was to draw up a short circular, asking all those interested in her work to become Associates, and to subscribe a sum of not less than one shilling a year. Such Associates were to pledge themselves to promote the sale of goods made by the blind. She submitted her scheme and circular to the Committee, and was advised to make the minimum subscription half a crown. In this form it was issued, but, lacking the energy with which she would in former time have launched it, there was no appreciable result.

On the 2d of May 1882 a concert in aid of the Association was held, by the kindness of the Duke of Westminster, at Grosvenor House. Bessie did what she could, but by far the greater part of the work connected with it fell upon her sisters. The Duke wrote directly it was over to congratulate her upon a very successful result; and Bessiewas greatly cheered to learn that when all incidental expenses were paid, there would remain the sum of £326: 17: 6.

The Committee endeavoured as far as possible to save her the distress of knowing the difficulties in which they were involved. Sir E. Sotheby was untiring in his zealous endeavours to promote the interests of the Association, and to shield Bessie from anxiety. Colonel Fyers, though in failing health, never lost sight of the object he had so long worked for. But all efforts were unavailing. Every fact and figure connected with the undertaking had been impressed upon an inexorable memory. Nothing now escaped her. She detected every financial error, and every departure from her original aims and objects. She saw what grave difficulty lay in the fact that since the death of Levy no manager had been appointed who had any special interest in the blind. She feared that the work of her whole life would be ignored; and that there would be no higher aim than to keep open a shop and carry on a trade. Oppressed by this fear, she made one last appeal, one final effort, on behalf of those whom she had loved and served for so long.

The address to the Committee, bearing date Whit Monday 1882, may be looked upon as her last will and testament. Internal evidence shows that it was in that light she herself looked upon it, and that she endeavoured to sum up in one short statement, which recapitulates the mostimportant points in the early rules of the Association, the result of a lifetime of work, thought, experience, and devotion.

The Association for Promoting the GeneralWelfare of the BlindWhitmonday,29th May 1882.This title should always be borne in mind by those managing the Association, as it clearly indicates the scope of the undertaking. Trade is a most necessary and essential part of the work; and the more sure the foundation upon which the trade is carried on the better will be the security for its prosperity; but trade is by no means the most important part of the undertaking, and indeed it is my earnest desire that the Association should never under any circumstances become a mere trading institution. This would be a great falling off from the original scope and object with which this Association was founded. I wish those who may be at any time entrusted with the management of the Association always to remember that it is open to them to do everything they can, that is likely to promote the welfare of the blind. The particular directions in which this may be done will often be clearly indicated by the circumstances of the Association, and by opportunities which may arise at any given time. Still, certain fixed principles should always be kept in view, as laid down in our rule No. 2, "That the immediate objects of this Association shall be to afford employment to those blind persons who, for want of work, have been compelled to solicit alms, or who may be likely to be tempted to do so. To cause those unacquainted with a trade to be instructed in some industrial art, and to introduce trades hitherto unpractised by the blind. Also, to support a Circulating Library consisting of books in various systems of relief print, to theadvantages of which the indigent blind shall be admitted free of charge, and others upon payment of the subscription required by the Committee. To enable blind musicians to show that the loss of sight does not prevent their being efficient organists and scientific musicians. To collect and disseminate information relative to the physical, mental, moral, and religious conditions of the blind; and to promote among individuals and institutions seeking to ameliorate the condition of the blind, a friendly interchange of information calculated to advance the common cause."Rule 16 also provides, "That with a view to increase the funds and extend the utility of the Association, the Committee shall have power to receive into connection with the Association other kindred institutions, and shall seek to form auxiliaries in various parts of the kingdom."The Association will probably never be called upon to undertake anything with regard to music, as the field is now so well and fully occupied by the Royal Normal College; but the rule is quoted exactly as it stands in order to show the breadth of the original design, which design should be kept steadily in view. It is most desirable that among those who may direct the Association there should always be some persons who should make it their special object to study the condition of the blind, and in this study the knowledge of the following facts will be found of service, viz.—1st.That many blind persons after leaving the schools are, although instructed in some trade, reduced to begging or driven to the workhouse, not through their own fault, but simply for the want of any regular employment in their trade.2d.That children constitute but a small proportion of the blind; as about nine-tenths of the 30,000 blind in the United Kingdom become so above the age of twenty-one, and are then ineligible for admission to most blind schools.3d.That about half the sightless population live in rural districts.

The Association for Promoting the GeneralWelfare of the Blind

Whitmonday,29th May 1882.

This title should always be borne in mind by those managing the Association, as it clearly indicates the scope of the undertaking. Trade is a most necessary and essential part of the work; and the more sure the foundation upon which the trade is carried on the better will be the security for its prosperity; but trade is by no means the most important part of the undertaking, and indeed it is my earnest desire that the Association should never under any circumstances become a mere trading institution. This would be a great falling off from the original scope and object with which this Association was founded. I wish those who may be at any time entrusted with the management of the Association always to remember that it is open to them to do everything they can, that is likely to promote the welfare of the blind. The particular directions in which this may be done will often be clearly indicated by the circumstances of the Association, and by opportunities which may arise at any given time. Still, certain fixed principles should always be kept in view, as laid down in our rule No. 2, "That the immediate objects of this Association shall be to afford employment to those blind persons who, for want of work, have been compelled to solicit alms, or who may be likely to be tempted to do so. To cause those unacquainted with a trade to be instructed in some industrial art, and to introduce trades hitherto unpractised by the blind. Also, to support a Circulating Library consisting of books in various systems of relief print, to theadvantages of which the indigent blind shall be admitted free of charge, and others upon payment of the subscription required by the Committee. To enable blind musicians to show that the loss of sight does not prevent their being efficient organists and scientific musicians. To collect and disseminate information relative to the physical, mental, moral, and religious conditions of the blind; and to promote among individuals and institutions seeking to ameliorate the condition of the blind, a friendly interchange of information calculated to advance the common cause."

Rule 16 also provides, "That with a view to increase the funds and extend the utility of the Association, the Committee shall have power to receive into connection with the Association other kindred institutions, and shall seek to form auxiliaries in various parts of the kingdom."

The Association will probably never be called upon to undertake anything with regard to music, as the field is now so well and fully occupied by the Royal Normal College; but the rule is quoted exactly as it stands in order to show the breadth of the original design, which design should be kept steadily in view. It is most desirable that among those who may direct the Association there should always be some persons who should make it their special object to study the condition of the blind, and in this study the knowledge of the following facts will be found of service, viz.—

1st.That many blind persons after leaving the schools are, although instructed in some trade, reduced to begging or driven to the workhouse, not through their own fault, but simply for the want of any regular employment in their trade.

2d.That children constitute but a small proportion of the blind; as about nine-tenths of the 30,000 blind in the United Kingdom become so above the age of twenty-one, and are then ineligible for admission to most blind schools.

3d.That about half the sightless population live in rural districts.

The address ends here abruptly. Probably the writer's strength was exhausted with the effort to think and to dictate.

During 1882, 1883, 1884 Bessie carried on at long intervals a correspondence with Mr. Wood, Superintendent of the School for the Blind, Sheffield. She learns that his pupils are taught to read embossed type on Braille's system, which her own experience had shown to be unsuited to those who have hard manual labour to perform. In every letter she requests information on this point: "Can the workpeople still read Braille's type?" she asks. The opening up of fresh trades, the establishment of workshops for the benefit of those who leave the school, are questions which she suggests for the serious consideration of the Sheffield Committee, and she asks Mr. Wood for information, at any time he can send it, as to work in any way connected with the blind.

About this time Bessie heard that John Bright had spoken at the Normal College, Norwood, and appealed to him on behalf of Berners Street. He replied:

132Piccadilly,26th July 1883.Dear Madam—I thank you for your letter and for the volume you have sent me. My engagements are so many and so constantly pressing that I cannot hope to do much for the cause you have at heart. I hope, however, the cause is making progress, and it is not unlikely that some general inquiry into the condition of the blind will be made before long, and that good maycome from it. My presence and speech at Norwood were accidental. I must leave more practical work to others.—I am, very truly yours,John Bright.Miss Gilbert, 5 Stanhope Place, Hyde Park, W.

132Piccadilly,26th July 1883.

Dear Madam—I thank you for your letter and for the volume you have sent me. My engagements are so many and so constantly pressing that I cannot hope to do much for the cause you have at heart. I hope, however, the cause is making progress, and it is not unlikely that some general inquiry into the condition of the blind will be made before long, and that good maycome from it. My presence and speech at Norwood were accidental. I must leave more practical work to others.—I am, very truly yours,

John Bright.

Miss Gilbert, 5 Stanhope Place, Hyde Park, W.

The volume sent was most probably Levy'sBlindness and the Blind.

During 1883 Bessie received frequent letters from the Chairman of her Committee, Sir E. Sotheby, and the Hon. Secretary, Captain Hume Nicholl. They referred to her the different appeals from blind men, women, and boys which reached them; these she carefully investigated and reported upon. During her illness, as throughout her whole life, the utmost help and best advice she could give were always at the disposal of the blind. Farrow, who had worked twenty-eight years at the Institution, loses no opportunity of sending her cheering news. He writes at this time with respect to the brushmakers:

During the last six months orders have poured in from all quarters, and I can say that all the years I have been connected with the Institution we have not done so much before in the same time. Brushes manufactured indoors in 1882 amounted to £3200. The present year, from the 1st January to the 1st of June, amounted to £1471: 6: 4 in twenty-two weeks.

There was an Industrial Exhibition in the Agricultural Hall, Islington, in 1883, and the blind stall from Berners Street was always crowded. Farrow writes:

If the manager of the Agricultural Hall had given us a better position in the body of the hall no doubt we should have done more than we did. The sales amounted to about £110. The donation boxes yielded £15. The cost of the undertaking about £29. The profits of the sale and [contents of] boxes included came to £50, leaving a balance of £21. I superintended the arrangements of the benches as two years ago. The workpeople who represented the different branches are as follows.... I visited the hall several times for the purpose of examining the machinery, to see if there was anything to be learnt for the benefit of the Association.... This year we have the whole of the work of the L. S. W. Railway, and we have also obtained that of St. Mary's Hospital, Paddington. For the future I will not send in any tender unless I see the samples first, as it was often done before without my seeing them.

This blind man who "examined the machinery" and must "see the samples" is one after Bessie's own heart, and there was always a merry laugh of approval when she spoke of his letters.

A conference was held at York in 1883 on the condition of the blind. It was followed in 1884 by a meeting at Sheffield on the same subject, and presided over by Lord Wharncliffe.

Bessie had, at Lord Wharncliffe's request, furnished suggestions and information. He writes as follows:

Wortley Hall, Sheffield,12th January 1884.Madam—I have taken the liberty of sending to you a copy of theSheffield Daily Telegraphcontaining the report of our meeting on Thursday last, and have to express to you my warm thanks for the kindness with which you answered my letter, and for the valuable suggestions contained in your reply. I can only hope thatyou will be interested with the report of our proceedings, and will approve of what was then said.—I remain, yrs. faithfully,Wharncliffe.Miss Gilbert.

Wortley Hall, Sheffield,12th January 1884.

Madam—I have taken the liberty of sending to you a copy of theSheffield Daily Telegraphcontaining the report of our meeting on Thursday last, and have to express to you my warm thanks for the kindness with which you answered my letter, and for the valuable suggestions contained in your reply. I can only hope thatyou will be interested with the report of our proceedings, and will approve of what was then said.—I remain, yrs. faithfully,

Wharncliffe.

Miss Gilbert.

The paper of suggestions referred to, travels over much of the ground familiar to Bessie for so many years, and never, as she thought, adequately explored by those who were working for the blind.

She writes to Lord Wharncliffe:

"It is almost impossible for a blind man, singlehanded, to cope with all the difficulties with which he has to contend, and the result has often been begging or the workhouse. Happily there are many more industrial institutions than there were."

One can imagine with what a thrill of satisfaction she would write this, as she remembered the little cellar in Holborn and the humble origin of all her subsequent work. She continues:

It would be most desirable that the ordinary schools and such institutions should play into one another's hands, so as to shorten as far as possible the interval between the pupils leaving [school] and their being employed. Sometimes the blind might be taught some special branch of a trade, and might perhaps even be employed by masters among their sighted workpeople. This would answer the double purpose of lightening the work of the Institution, and also of drawing attention to the blind and to what they are able to do, which is a very important point.As industrial institutions must depend to a very great extent upon custom for their support, it is well to bear in mind that some persons without sight can both help themselves and the institution employing them by acting as travellers. People are often very much interested bythis means, and look forward to the regular recurring calls of the blind travellers. Besides which it saves people trouble in dealing with an institution if they happen to live at some distance.It is almost needless to say that all the capabilities of the blind should be brought out as much as possible, as the more this is done and the more their highest interests are cared for, the more will their whole condition be elevated and improved. The problem of enabling the blind to earn their own living is by no means an easy one, and is well worthy of the attention of loving hearts and wise intellects for its solution.

As industrial institutions must depend to a very great extent upon custom for their support, it is well to bear in mind that some persons without sight can both help themselves and the institution employing them by acting as travellers. People are often very much interested bythis means, and look forward to the regular recurring calls of the blind travellers. Besides which it saves people trouble in dealing with an institution if they happen to live at some distance.

It is almost needless to say that all the capabilities of the blind should be brought out as much as possible, as the more this is done and the more their highest interests are cared for, the more will their whole condition be elevated and improved. The problem of enabling the blind to earn their own living is by no means an easy one, and is well worthy of the attention of loving hearts and wise intellects for its solution.

The whole tone of these wise and thoughtful remarks shows that Bessie had never lost touch with her work. Her interest is as fresh, her expectation as vigorous as ever. She throws out a new suggestion—that of the employment of the blind in special branches of a trade—which may even yet bear fruit. She pleads for "the elevation of the whole condition of the blind," in contradistinction to the administration of charitable doles to degrade them. She had a wide experience of both systems, and could now speak with authority. The letter indeed marks a recrudescence, and has a ring of hope about it. It is not the utterance of one who speaks on the other side of a closed door. You feel that the door is open and she may enter and resume work. There was, in fact, throughout 1884 an indefinable improvement and amelioration in her condition which led her, not perhaps to hope, but to entertain a thought of the possibility of such a measure of recovery as might once more enable her to take an activeshare in the work of the Institution. It is not likely that this expectation was entertained either by her doctors or nurses; but Bessie had a distinct feeling that a change, an improvement, was before her. "Would it not be wonderful," she said to the present writer in the early summer of 1884, "if I should recover?" And in reply to a question suggested by this remark, she added, "I feel as if there would be a change."

"The noble mansion is most distinguished by the beautiful images it retains of beings passed away; and so is the noble mind."Walter Savage Landor.

"The noble mansion is most distinguished by the beautiful images it retains of beings passed away; and so is the noble mind."

Walter Savage Landor.

Fifteen years of suffering had left Bessie Gilbert unchanged as to the aims and work of her life. Long lonely hours of thought had shown her the need that the blind have of help and sympathy, the impossibility of independence and self-supporting work for them unless through the active charity of individuals and the co-operation of the State.

And it was the "General Welfare of the Blind" that engrossed her, and not merely their trades. She knew, no one better, how much need they have of resources from within, the pleasures of memory, the courage given by hope and aspiration. Her long years of illness enlarged her ideas of what could be done and ought to be done for them. She contrasted her own condition with that of the poor and untaught, and forgave them all their faults when she remembered their sad state.

Bessie had been carefully prepared for the inevitable solitude of her lot. Her mind was richly stored and her memory so carefully trained, that it seemed to allow no escape of anything that interested her. During the long weary days and nights of illness, when deafness isolated her even more than blindness, she would go over the whole story of a book read to her years before. She would recall the symphonies and sonatas she had listened to in early days, and find exceeding great enjoyment in the memory of her music. Indeed, towards the end she had but little pleasure in music heard through the outward ear, for her nerves were not able to endure the shock of a sudden or unexpected outburst of sound. But the music which she could call from out the chambers of memory was soft and tender, and its most impassioned passages gave her no pain. The soul of the music spoke to her soul, and silence brought to her the rapture of spiritual communion.

In early youth she had been accustomed, in the daily family prayers, to read in turn her verse of the Lessons and the Psalms. In later years she always read them to herself or had them read aloud to her. During her illness she scarcely ever failed to hear them; and the evening Psalms ended her day. She knew very many of the Psalms by heart, and "specially delighted in the glorious ascriptions of praise and thanksgiving in those for the thirtieth evening of the month." She liked to think that every month and every year at its close was accompanied by praise and thanksgiving."It pleased and touched her greatly," writes her sister N., "that in the New Lectionary the miracle of restoring sight to the two blind men at Jericho, came as the second lesson for the evening of her birthday, 7th August.

"One of her most favourite verses in the Psalms was, 'Thou hast given me the defence of thy salvation. Thy right hand also shall hold me up, and thy loving correction shall make me great.'"

Two poems from theLyra Germanicagave her constant comfort, and were in her heart and on her lips. She found in them the embodiment of her faith, and could use them not only as expressing her own feelings, but as bringing comfort and help, because they were the utterance of the ardent faith and devotion of others.

These two hymns really open to us the inner life of Bessie Gilbert. They show from whence she derived the strength and courage that supported her in the efforts and trials of her early life, and they reveal the source of the patient endurance of fifteen years of isolation and suffering.

Passion Week.[9]I.In the Garden.Whene'er again thou sinkest,My heart, beneath thy load,Or from the battle shrinkest,And murmurest at thy God;Then will I lead thee hither,To watch thy Saviour's prayer,And learn from His enduranceHow thou shouldst also bear.Oh come, wouldst thou be like Him,Thy Lord Divine, and markWhat sharpest sorrows strike Him,What anguish deep and dark,—That earnest cry to spare Him,The trial scarce begun?Yet still He saith: "My Father,Thy will, not mine, be done!"Oh wherefore doth His spiritSuch bitter conflict know?What sins, what crimes could meritSuch deep and awful woe?So pure are not the heavens,So clear the noonday sun,And yet He saith: "My Father,Thy will, not mine, be done!"Oh mark that night of sorrow,That agony of prayer;No friend can watch till morrowHis grief to soothe and share;Oh where shall He find comfort?With God, with God alone,And still He saith: "My Father,Thy will, not mine, be done!"Hath life for Him no gladness,No joy the light of day?Can He then feel no sadness,When heart and hope give way?That cup of mortal anguishOne bitter cry hath won,That it might pass: "Yet, Father,Thy will, not mine, be done!"And who the cup prepared Him,And who the poison gave?'Twas one He loved ensnared Him,'Twas those He came to save.Oh sharpest pain, to sufferBetray'd and mock'd—alone;Yet still He saith: "My Father,Thy will, not mine, be done!"But what is joy or living,What treachery or death,When all His work, His striving,Seems hanging on His breath?Oh can it stand without Him,That work but just begun?Yet still He saith: "My Father,Thy will, not mine, be done!"He speaks; no more He shrinketh,Himself He offers up;He sees it all, yet drinkethFor us that bitter cup,He goes to meet the traitor,The cross He will not shun,—He saith: "I come, My Father,Thy will, not mine, be done!"My Saviour, I will neverForget Thy word of grace,But still repeat it ever,Through good and evil days;And looking up to heaven,Till all my race is run,I'll humbly say: "My Father,Thy will, not mine, be done!"W. Hey, 1828.

Passion Week.[9]

In the Garden.

Whene'er again thou sinkest,My heart, beneath thy load,Or from the battle shrinkest,And murmurest at thy God;Then will I lead thee hither,To watch thy Saviour's prayer,And learn from His enduranceHow thou shouldst also bear.

Whene'er again thou sinkest,

My heart, beneath thy load,

Or from the battle shrinkest,

And murmurest at thy God;

Then will I lead thee hither,

To watch thy Saviour's prayer,

And learn from His endurance

How thou shouldst also bear.

Oh come, wouldst thou be like Him,Thy Lord Divine, and markWhat sharpest sorrows strike Him,What anguish deep and dark,—That earnest cry to spare Him,The trial scarce begun?Yet still He saith: "My Father,Thy will, not mine, be done!"

Oh come, wouldst thou be like Him,

Thy Lord Divine, and mark

What sharpest sorrows strike Him,

What anguish deep and dark,—

That earnest cry to spare Him,

The trial scarce begun?

Yet still He saith: "My Father,

Thy will, not mine, be done!"

Oh wherefore doth His spiritSuch bitter conflict know?What sins, what crimes could meritSuch deep and awful woe?So pure are not the heavens,So clear the noonday sun,And yet He saith: "My Father,Thy will, not mine, be done!"

Oh wherefore doth His spirit

Such bitter conflict know?

What sins, what crimes could merit

Such deep and awful woe?

So pure are not the heavens,

So clear the noonday sun,

And yet He saith: "My Father,

Thy will, not mine, be done!"

Oh mark that night of sorrow,That agony of prayer;No friend can watch till morrowHis grief to soothe and share;Oh where shall He find comfort?With God, with God alone,And still He saith: "My Father,Thy will, not mine, be done!"

Oh mark that night of sorrow,

That agony of prayer;

No friend can watch till morrow

His grief to soothe and share;

Oh where shall He find comfort?

With God, with God alone,

And still He saith: "My Father,

Thy will, not mine, be done!"

Hath life for Him no gladness,No joy the light of day?Can He then feel no sadness,When heart and hope give way?That cup of mortal anguishOne bitter cry hath won,That it might pass: "Yet, Father,Thy will, not mine, be done!"

Hath life for Him no gladness,

No joy the light of day?

Can He then feel no sadness,

When heart and hope give way?

That cup of mortal anguish

One bitter cry hath won,

That it might pass: "Yet, Father,

Thy will, not mine, be done!"

And who the cup prepared Him,And who the poison gave?'Twas one He loved ensnared Him,'Twas those He came to save.Oh sharpest pain, to sufferBetray'd and mock'd—alone;Yet still He saith: "My Father,Thy will, not mine, be done!"

And who the cup prepared Him,

And who the poison gave?

'Twas one He loved ensnared Him,

'Twas those He came to save.

Oh sharpest pain, to suffer

Betray'd and mock'd—alone;

Yet still He saith: "My Father,

Thy will, not mine, be done!"

But what is joy or living,What treachery or death,When all His work, His striving,Seems hanging on His breath?Oh can it stand without Him,That work but just begun?Yet still He saith: "My Father,Thy will, not mine, be done!"

But what is joy or living,

What treachery or death,

When all His work, His striving,

Seems hanging on His breath?

Oh can it stand without Him,

That work but just begun?

Yet still He saith: "My Father,

Thy will, not mine, be done!"

He speaks; no more He shrinketh,Himself He offers up;He sees it all, yet drinkethFor us that bitter cup,He goes to meet the traitor,The cross He will not shun,—He saith: "I come, My Father,Thy will, not mine, be done!"

He speaks; no more He shrinketh,

Himself He offers up;

He sees it all, yet drinketh

For us that bitter cup,

He goes to meet the traitor,

The cross He will not shun,—

He saith: "I come, My Father,

Thy will, not mine, be done!"

My Saviour, I will neverForget Thy word of grace,But still repeat it ever,Through good and evil days;And looking up to heaven,Till all my race is run,I'll humbly say: "My Father,Thy will, not mine, be done!"W. Hey, 1828.

My Saviour, I will never

Forget Thy word of grace,

But still repeat it ever,

Through good and evil days;

And looking up to heaven,

Till all my race is run,

I'll humbly say: "My Father,

Thy will, not mine, be done!"

W. Hey, 1828.

Fifteenth Sunday after Trinity.Be thou content; be still beforeHis face, at whose right hand doth reignFulness of joy for evermore,Without whom all thy toil is vain.He is thy living spring, thy sun, whose raysMake glad with life and light thy weary days.Be thou content.In Him is comfort, light, and grace,And changeless love beyond our thought;The sorest pang, the worst disgrace,If He is there, shall harm thee not.He can lift off thy cross, and loose thy bands,And calm thy fears, nay, death is in His hands.Be thou content.Or art thou friendless and alone,Hast none in whom thou canst confide?God careth for thee, lonely one,Comfort and help will He provide.He sees thy sorrows and thy hidden grief,He knoweth when to send thee quick relief.Be thou content.Thy heart's unspoken pain He knows,Thy secret sighs He hears full well,What to none else thou dar'st disclose,To Him thou mayst with boldness tell;He is not far away, but ever nigh,And answereth willingly the poor man's cry.Be thou content.Be not o'er-mastered by thy pain,But cling to God, thou shalt not fall;The floods sweep over thee in vain,Thou yet shalt rise above them all;For when thy trial seems too hard to bearLo! God, thy King, hath granted all thy prayer.Be thou content.Why art thou full of anxious fearHow thou shalt be sustain'd and fed?He who hath made and placed thee hereWill give thee needful daily bread;Canst thou not trust His rich and bounteous hand,Who feeds all living things on sea and land?Be thou content.He who doth teach the little birdsTo find their meat in field and wood,Who gives the countless flocks and herdsEach day their needful drink and food,Thy hunger too will surely satisfy,And all thy wants in His good time supply.Be thou content.Sayest thou, I know not how or where,No hope I see where'er I turn;When of all else we most despair,The riches of God's love we learn;When thou and I His hand no longer trace,He leads us forth into a pleasant place.Be thou content.Though long His promised aid delay,At last it will be surely sent:Though thy heart sink in sore dismay,The trial for thy good is meant.What we have won with pains we hold more fast,What tarrieth long is sweeter at the last.Be thou content.Lay not to heart whate'er of illThy foes may falsely speak of thee,Let man defame thee as he will,God hears and judges righteously.Why shouldst thou fear, if God be on thy side,Man's cruel anger, or malicious pride?Be thou content.We know for us a rest remains,When God will give us sweet releaseFrom earth and all our mortal chainsAnd turn our sufferings into peace.Sooner or later death will surely comeTo end our sorrows and to take us home.Be thou content.Home to the chosen ones, who hereServed their Lord faithfully and well,Who died in peace without a fear,And there in peace for ever dwell;The Everlasting is their joy and stay,The Eternal Word Himself to them doth sayBe thou content!Paul Gerhardt, 1670.

Fifteenth Sunday after Trinity.

Be thou content; be still beforeHis face, at whose right hand doth reignFulness of joy for evermore,Without whom all thy toil is vain.He is thy living spring, thy sun, whose raysMake glad with life and light thy weary days.Be thou content.

Be thou content; be still before

His face, at whose right hand doth reign

Fulness of joy for evermore,

Without whom all thy toil is vain.

He is thy living spring, thy sun, whose rays

Make glad with life and light thy weary days.

Be thou content.

In Him is comfort, light, and grace,And changeless love beyond our thought;The sorest pang, the worst disgrace,If He is there, shall harm thee not.He can lift off thy cross, and loose thy bands,And calm thy fears, nay, death is in His hands.Be thou content.

In Him is comfort, light, and grace,

And changeless love beyond our thought;

The sorest pang, the worst disgrace,

If He is there, shall harm thee not.

He can lift off thy cross, and loose thy bands,

And calm thy fears, nay, death is in His hands.

Be thou content.

Or art thou friendless and alone,Hast none in whom thou canst confide?God careth for thee, lonely one,Comfort and help will He provide.He sees thy sorrows and thy hidden grief,He knoweth when to send thee quick relief.Be thou content.

Or art thou friendless and alone,

Hast none in whom thou canst confide?

God careth for thee, lonely one,

Comfort and help will He provide.

He sees thy sorrows and thy hidden grief,

He knoweth when to send thee quick relief.

Be thou content.

Thy heart's unspoken pain He knows,Thy secret sighs He hears full well,What to none else thou dar'st disclose,To Him thou mayst with boldness tell;He is not far away, but ever nigh,And answereth willingly the poor man's cry.Be thou content.

Thy heart's unspoken pain He knows,

Thy secret sighs He hears full well,

What to none else thou dar'st disclose,

To Him thou mayst with boldness tell;

He is not far away, but ever nigh,

And answereth willingly the poor man's cry.

Be thou content.

Be not o'er-mastered by thy pain,But cling to God, thou shalt not fall;The floods sweep over thee in vain,Thou yet shalt rise above them all;For when thy trial seems too hard to bearLo! God, thy King, hath granted all thy prayer.Be thou content.

Be not o'er-mastered by thy pain,

But cling to God, thou shalt not fall;

The floods sweep over thee in vain,

Thou yet shalt rise above them all;

For when thy trial seems too hard to bear

Lo! God, thy King, hath granted all thy prayer.

Be thou content.

Why art thou full of anxious fearHow thou shalt be sustain'd and fed?He who hath made and placed thee hereWill give thee needful daily bread;Canst thou not trust His rich and bounteous hand,Who feeds all living things on sea and land?Be thou content.

Why art thou full of anxious fear

How thou shalt be sustain'd and fed?

He who hath made and placed thee here

Will give thee needful daily bread;

Canst thou not trust His rich and bounteous hand,

Who feeds all living things on sea and land?

Be thou content.

He who doth teach the little birdsTo find their meat in field and wood,Who gives the countless flocks and herdsEach day their needful drink and food,Thy hunger too will surely satisfy,And all thy wants in His good time supply.Be thou content.

He who doth teach the little birds

To find their meat in field and wood,

Who gives the countless flocks and herds

Each day their needful drink and food,

Thy hunger too will surely satisfy,

And all thy wants in His good time supply.

Be thou content.

Sayest thou, I know not how or where,No hope I see where'er I turn;When of all else we most despair,The riches of God's love we learn;When thou and I His hand no longer trace,He leads us forth into a pleasant place.Be thou content.

Sayest thou, I know not how or where,

No hope I see where'er I turn;

When of all else we most despair,

The riches of God's love we learn;

When thou and I His hand no longer trace,

He leads us forth into a pleasant place.

Be thou content.

Though long His promised aid delay,At last it will be surely sent:Though thy heart sink in sore dismay,The trial for thy good is meant.What we have won with pains we hold more fast,What tarrieth long is sweeter at the last.Be thou content.

Though long His promised aid delay,

At last it will be surely sent:

Though thy heart sink in sore dismay,

The trial for thy good is meant.

What we have won with pains we hold more fast,

What tarrieth long is sweeter at the last.

Be thou content.

Lay not to heart whate'er of illThy foes may falsely speak of thee,Let man defame thee as he will,God hears and judges righteously.Why shouldst thou fear, if God be on thy side,Man's cruel anger, or malicious pride?Be thou content.

Lay not to heart whate'er of ill

Thy foes may falsely speak of thee,

Let man defame thee as he will,

God hears and judges righteously.

Why shouldst thou fear, if God be on thy side,

Man's cruel anger, or malicious pride?

Be thou content.

We know for us a rest remains,When God will give us sweet releaseFrom earth and all our mortal chainsAnd turn our sufferings into peace.Sooner or later death will surely comeTo end our sorrows and to take us home.Be thou content.

We know for us a rest remains,

When God will give us sweet release

From earth and all our mortal chains

And turn our sufferings into peace.

Sooner or later death will surely come

To end our sorrows and to take us home.

Be thou content.

Home to the chosen ones, who hereServed their Lord faithfully and well,Who died in peace without a fear,And there in peace for ever dwell;The Everlasting is their joy and stay,The Eternal Word Himself to them doth sayBe thou content!Paul Gerhardt, 1670.

Home to the chosen ones, who here

Served their Lord faithfully and well,

Who died in peace without a fear,

And there in peace for ever dwell;

The Everlasting is their joy and stay,

The Eternal Word Himself to them doth say

Be thou content!

Paul Gerhardt, 1670.

For weeks together during her illness Bessie was at times unable to sleep during the night. She was too considerate to her nurses to disturb them for mere sleeplessness. She would then, as we have said, recall to memory music and books which she had heard, and at these times Shakespeare and Sir Walter Scott were a great resource to her. The characters she admired lived for her, and she would try to picture to herself how they would act in circumstances which she invented for them. Her knowledge of English history was also a source of interest, and often astonished those around her. One evening in 1884 a youngniece preparing for an examination asked in vain for information as to the "Salisbury Assize" until the question was put to "Aunt Bessie," who at once explained it.

There were long lapses, as it were, in her life. After the sleepless nights she had to sleep when she could, and her room in the daytime was hushed and silent, all external life and interest excluded. At night she was again fully awake, but it was to find herself alone in the "chambers of her imagery."

One of the two sisters who were her constant companions, and nursed her with unfailing devotion for fifteen years, writes as follows:

All through her illness, with the occasional exceptions when she suffered from deafness, her cheerfulness was marvellous, her patience never-failing, and her consideration and thoughtfulness for those around her very wonderful and touching.She had a special name of her own for each of her nurses, all of them loved her, and upon several of them the influence of her patience and goodness was strongly marked, and will be of lifelong endurance. Her first sick-nurse came in 1872 and stayed two years. She often afterwards visited her. She came to see us after Bessie's death, and said with tears, "Oh, I did not do enough for her. I wish I had done more."Bessie would often arrange little surprises and pleasures for us and give us flowers. She was anxious we should have all the variety we could, and took the greatest pleasure in hearing an account of what we had seen and done whilst away from her. She liked to see visitors when she was well enough, but was often nervous about it, fearing lest the excitement should doher harm, and interfere in any way with what little she could do for the Institution.Perhaps few realised how much she suffered; she was so patient, so bright, so sympathetic that it was difficult to do so. The last few months of her life were full of pain.

She had a special name of her own for each of her nurses, all of them loved her, and upon several of them the influence of her patience and goodness was strongly marked, and will be of lifelong endurance. Her first sick-nurse came in 1872 and stayed two years. She often afterwards visited her. She came to see us after Bessie's death, and said with tears, "Oh, I did not do enough for her. I wish I had done more."

Bessie would often arrange little surprises and pleasures for us and give us flowers. She was anxious we should have all the variety we could, and took the greatest pleasure in hearing an account of what we had seen and done whilst away from her. She liked to see visitors when she was well enough, but was often nervous about it, fearing lest the excitement should doher harm, and interfere in any way with what little she could do for the Institution.

Perhaps few realised how much she suffered; she was so patient, so bright, so sympathetic that it was difficult to do so. The last few months of her life were full of pain.

No record of Bessie's illness would be adequate which did not speak of the love that lightened every burden laid upon her. Sisters and brothers bound by so strong a bond of family love as the Gilberts are even more closely united by affliction. No day passed without its tribute of affectionate remembrance from absent members of the family. Her eldest brother, Mr. Wintle, always spent the afternoon of Sunday with her, when she was able to receive him. The Vicar of Heversham, the beloved "Tom" of her youth, saw her in London whenever it was possible. Married sisters visited and wrote to her, and a whole cloud of nephews and nieces hovered around her.

She valued highly the friendship as well as the skill of Mr. Sibley, the surgeon who for many years attended her. She depended upon him for almost daily visits. Very little could be done to arrest the progress of her malady; nothing to save her from much inevitable suffering. Alleviation, not cure, was all that could be looked for, and he was always ready to attempt, and often able to effect, some mitigation of the ills she had to endure.

Among many others who were kind and helpful, ready to aid her work and so to give heralmost the only pleasure she could receive, were the Duke of Westminster, Lord and Lady Selborne, Madame Antoinette Sterling, who would sometimes sing to her, and the old and dear friends of the family, Dean and Mrs. Hook. No word can here be said of the two sisters, whose whole life was given up to her; none would be adequate. They knew, and they were known. That is enough. We may not lift the veil under which they passed so many years with Bessie in her long agony.

FOOTNOTE:[9]FromLyra Germanica, second series.

[9]FromLyra Germanica, second series.

"In Thy light we shall see light."

The summer of 1884 in London was hot and exhausting. In Bessie's helpless condition excessive heat caused her real suffering; for she was fixed immovable upon her couch. But if she longed for cool breezes, the scent of flowers and song of birds, she uttered no murmur in their absence.

The slight improvement recognised with so much gratitude in the spring was not permanent, but the "change" she anticipated was at hand. "I feel as if there would be a change," she had said.

The autumn showed that she had seriously lost ground.

"Her throat," continues her sister N., "always painful and irritable, had now become a source of great suffering. There was constant pain, greatly increased every time she swallowed; whilst her weakness made it important that she should take plenty of nourishment. A troublesome cough came on; fits of coughing that lasted for hours and exhausted her terribly. At the same timeneuralgia and rheumatism attacked the left leg and thigh, and violent pain caused her, with all her courage and patience, to scream in the most heartrending manner. Her whole body became most sensitive to touch, and yet she was obliged to be moved on account of the cough. Her limbs seemed to stiffen, and the body was like a leaden weight pressing on the bed. To change her position, even to touch her hair, caused her great pain; and it required four or even five persons to move her with the minimum of pain."

This sad condition lasted through the autumn of 1884, but she improved wonderfully about Christmas time, and there was alleviation and relief for herself and all around her. On Christmas day, however, a fresh sorrow befel her. Her brother-in-law, Mr. Bowles, died suddenly, and all her old grief at the loss of her sister Mary, of her father, and of dear friends, was reopened. She had a serious relapse, and before long the condition of her throat made it desirable to seek further advice. Dr. Semon was consulted, and he examined her throat by the help of the electric light. She was greatly interested in this examination, in the explanation of the apparatus used, and in the fact that hers was the first throat so examined since Dr. Semon's apparatus had been perfected.

Shortly afterwards her condition was aggravated by slight bronchitis, and for four days and nights she had no sleep. On the 7th of February 1885 Dr. Sibley saw her between 12 and 12.30, and anticipated no immediate danger. But he was again hastily summoned, and at 1.15 she died; conscious to the last moment.

"She had been so tired the night before," writes her sister. "About midnight she said: 'Art thou weary, art thou weary?' and we repeated the beautiful hymn, which seemed to soothe her. Even that last night she was full of thought for others. 'Mind you have some tea; do make yourselves some tea,' she said. She evidently followed the prayers that we said, and indeed her death was a falling asleep, so peaceful, with no pain or struggle whatever."

The farewell of two old friends was by her bedside at Ascension Tide, May 1884, when Bessie received the Holy Communion.

Such a radiant light, such ineffable peace rested on her face when she lay back in silence on her pillow, that the writer thought "so will she look when at last her eyes are open to the eternal day." A kiss, a pressure of the hand, a word of farewell, and there was no other place of meeting in this life.

Undaunted by suffering and privation, patient, heroic, she lived and died. No murmur escaped her lips from early youth to age. She stood trembling with awestruck face when, after she had said, "Oh how I should like to see the sun!" her companion solemnly assured her, "And you shall see," and turned the sightless face towards the glowing sky. All was dark, the young girl could only answer, "I see nothing," as she turned and went slowly homewards. She accepted her blindness. It was the will of God. No word of lamentation escaped her throughout her life.

Again there came a time when a great cause had been entrusted to her, when she felt that it was prospering in her hands, when she hoped to raise the whole condition of the blind, to lift them up out of poverty and dependence, and place them on a level with all industrious and intelligent citizens. But a hand was laid upon her in the darkness. "I can do nothing," she said; and once again she turned and went slowly without a murmur, without repining, down the dark pathway to the grave and gate of death. But the work for which she gave her life has not died, and cannot die. Every good seed, sown upon good ground, must spring up and bear fruit. Her patient efforts, her success in "removing obstacles from before the feet of the blind," will help and encourage other workers. Blind children in our schools, blind workmen and workwomen in our shops and factories, will reap the harvest for which Bessie Gilbert laboured, and may join in the acknowledgment of dependence upon the Great Father which she so loved to utter: "All thy works praise thee, O Lord."

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