A short ACCOUNT of ANN JOHNSON. By John Johnson.

1. SHE was born at Lambeth, October 17, 1717. Her mother died while she was young. About sixteen, she married a seafaring man, who by his extravagance exposed her to many difficulties. Often in sailing from port to port, to prevent, if possible, his wasting his money when he came from sea, she was in great danger, and then made many resolutions; but they quickly died away.

2. On February 14, 1747. Her husband brought her to Dublin. But she was still the same: “I do not remember, said she, that I had any thought, whether I had a soul or not, till I was about twenty-eight years old.” At that time she began to reflect with terror, on the immortality of her soul. She saw and felt, that hell was her just desert, and could find no way to escape it. She knew she was under the wrath of God, but knew not how to appease it. She went from church to church, and endeavoured to do whatever she was taught; but found all she could do was nothing. Sometimes indeed her convictions subsided for a time; but returned with double violence. The cry of her soul continually was, “Lord what must I do to be saved? Shew me the way wherein I should go!” Thus she went on for several years.

3. About fourteen years ago she heard Mr. Thomas Walsh preach in the New-room. She said, “He made my soul tremble exceedingly.” Her fears were rather increased than lessened. But the eyes of her understanding were not opened, with regard to the true method of salvation. Afterwards she heard “that blessed man of God,” (as she justly called him) Paul Greenwood. She then saw, that by grace we are saved through faith, and at the same time, sin received a mortal wound. She determined, nothing should prevent her seeking the pearl of great price, that precious faith. She had much opposition; but nothing stopped her soul on full stretch for salvation. Such was her desire to hear the word, that frequently when she was locked into the room, up one pair of stairs, she got out at a window. She directly joined the society, and counted all things loss, so she might win Christ.

4. It was not long before it pleased God to remove the opposer out of the way. She now frequently received much comfort: but that did not satisfy. Nothing could give her lasting comfort, till she knew her sins were blotted out. This she earnestly sought both in private and public, missing no opportunity of hearing the preaching. And one Sunday morning, as Mr. Deaves was giving out an hymn, God was pleased to reveal his Son in her, and to enable her to say with a clear confidence, “He has loved me, and given himself for me.” It was with much difficulty that she refrained from crying out, and exhorting all to praise the Lord. She now delighted to run the way of his commandments. Her heart was enlarged. Both her heart and hands were open towards those that feared God, and had her power been equal to her will, none of them should have wanted any thing. For some months she walked as on the wings of the wind.

“Jesus all the day long

Was her joy and her song:

O that all his salvation may see!

He has lov’d me, she cried,

He hath suffer’d and died

To redeem such a rebel as me!”

Though her outward situation was disagreeable, being surrounded great part of the day, with those who constrained her to see and hear what her soul abhorred; yet his grace was sufficient for her, and she remained always rejoicing, and praising the God of her salvation.

5. After some months, it was shewn her, that the seeds of sin were not yet rooted out of her heart. Yet she did not let go her confidence in God, neither lose the power over her besetting sin, which was anger. And it was her principle, not to rest an hour, without a feeling sense of the love of God.

6. On October the 9th, 1760, by the providence of God, she and I were married. She was truly an helpmate for ten years, three months, and two days: during which time we could truly say, there never was any thing but love and tenderness toward each other. There never was, that I remember, but once, any appearance of what is called a quarrel. And in a few hours she saw, it was not her business, to interfere with the discipline of the society.

7. Although there was the most tender affection between us, yet so exceeding great was her love to souls, and her desire for their welfare, that she was willing at all times for me to go to any part of the kingdom, without ever saying, “If you must go, stay a few days longer.” And if I was absent three or six months, nay, a whole year, which was once the case, she never complained. She could part with husband, or any thing, to glorify him, who had done so much for her. The last time I spoke of leaving her, she was ill. My friends then advised me, not to go. I was inclined to follow their advice, as there appeared little hope of her recovery. But she insisted on my going where Providence called, saying, “I never have hindered you yet. And if I should do it now, I believe it would be displeasing to God.” I went, and after an absence of three months, returned just at the time, when she was taken with that last illness, which prevented her going out any more. And for my coming home just at that time, she praised God to her latest hour.

8. During the last ten years of her life, she had many and great conflicts. The sense of inbred sin, and of her having so many times offended God, after she had known his love, often lay heavy upon her mind, and pierced her with deep sorrow. The earnest desire of her soul was, to be wholly given up to God. But she was tormented with that fear, lest she should not glorify God in life and in death: particularly, lest by any improper behaviour at her death, she should be a reproach to the gospel. Likewise anxious care about the world, sometimes exceedingly distressed her. She was tempted to fear, lest she should live to be a burden to the society. Or, at least, till she could not be helpful to others, as she knew, it was more blessed to give than to receive. But thro’ the mercy of God, none of the things which she had feared came upon her.

9. Above two years ago, the disorder which occasioned her death began to be violent. Yet she did not abate her diligence, to support herself and family, till July 1769. Her pains then so increased, that she had no ease night or day, only when she slept, which was seldom more than an hour or two. But notwithstanding this, she could not be prevailed upon to keep her room before Christmas. From that time she was in exquisite pain, as tho’ her bowels were tearing asunder. She often said, wearisome nights and days are appointed for me. Yet in the sharpest pain, she never charged God foolishly, or once said, he dealt hardly with her.

10. During this long confinement, she felt a keen conviction of her past unfaithfulness, together with a piercing sense of inbred sin. And on both these accounts, she was often crying out in deep distress, God be merciful to me a sinner. She steddily believed, it was the privilege of God’s people, always to feel the clear witness of his spirit. Accordingly she was always, either rejoicing in the Lord, or deeply distressed for want of it. Even in the severest pain, she was not satisfied with patience, unless she had joy in the Lord.

11. She often would say, “The devil tells me, the peace I feel is only stupidity: that I have been an hypocrite all my life, and never was converted. But I can with confidence answer, this is false. I never desired to deceive either myself or others. I know the Lord did awaken my soul, and convert me to himself. And I cannot accuse myself of lukewarmness in my duty since. I have seldom wilfully missed my class, or band, or a sermon. Yet the manner in which I often performed those duties, causes my soul to tremble. My body was present: but often, too often my mind was engaged in my business. Herein I must plead guilty before God, and he might justly have cast me out of his presence.”

12. All this time the hand of the Lord was underneath her, and did not suffer her to sink in the deep waters. Yet she often complained, “I cannot rejoice in pain,” whereas St. Paul says, Rejoice in tribulation: and that happy soul, Nancy Rogers said, “Every pain is a spring to my soul, to lift me up to heaven.” I told her, “When you, like Nancy, are near your end, you may triumph over pain also. But should it be otherwise, your eternal state does not depend on that.” She cried out, “Nay, but what the scriptures declare, and what others have experienced, is for me.” She did not fear being cast into hell: yet her distress, at times, was exceeding great. She was vehemently athirst for full salvation, and often broke out into deep lamentation. “I am unlike the Lord! When shall I awake up after his full likeness!” Sometimes she seemed just ready to lay hold on the hope set before her. But she was checked by a sense of her unprofitableness in the ways of God: and would often break out, “True Lord, true! I am unprofitable indeed.”

13. At some times she was afraid, lest she should live to expend all she had, and leave me in distress. But about a month before her death, these fears vanished away, and she was quite resigned to the will of God, leaving it wholly to him to do what seemed him good, with her and all that she had. From this time she had no other care than that which related to her soul. She was now released from her severe pains, and her soul felt a solemn peace; tho’ she was still frequently tempted to fear, lest she should deceive herself.

14. Near three weeks after, I was reading in the fifteenth volume of the Christian Library, that section in Isaac Ambrose’s looking unto Jesus, “Desiring Jesus with respect to his death.” The Lord now turned his hand upon her, and caused her to feel his power. Her body seemed to be forgotten; while her spirit rejoiced in God her Saviour, crying out, “O the goodness of God, which directed that passage to be read this night!” Then she began to sing

“Thou shepherd of Israel and mine,

The joy and desire of my heart!

For closer communion I pine;

I long to reside where thou art.

The pasture I languish to find,

Where all who their shepherd obey,

Are fed, on thy bosom reclin’d,

Are screen’d from the heat of the day.”

From this time she did rejoice evermore; and yet longed to triumph more. Her ambitious soul could not rest, till wholly swallowed up in God.

15. January 7. She desired to be taken out of bed. As soon as her cloaths were on, she expected to have gone to rest. But God was pleased to keep her a little longer in the body, for the comfort of her surviving friends. As soon as she was a little revived, I asked, “If she could stay her soul upon the Lord?” She said, “Yes, I can, tho’ I have not always that full assurance of faith.” But the next morning, God fulfilled the desire of her heart, and filled her with faith and love. About ten she seemed just expiring: but she soon revived. I said, “My dear, can you rely on the Lord?” She answered with triumph, “I can; yes, I can. All is plain before me. There is nothing now in the way. O the precious blood of God! O the precious blood of God! That precious blood cleanseth from all sin and from all stains.” I asked, “Has that blood cleansed you from all stains?” She said, “Yes, yes. It has washed me, and it will still wash me.” I said, “For sorrow you shall soon have joy.” She said, “Sorrow! I have had no sorrow. When I think of what my Lord suffered for me, mine is nothing.” Indeed the exceeding happiness she now enjoyed, made her forget all her former pains. She said, “I shall be like him! I cannot tell what that is: but I shall be like him.” The convulsions then followed each other with little respite; but in the intervals, she was still praising God.

16. Wednesday 9. In the morning she was in great agonies, but said, “Lord, thou dost all things well! Now I have nothing to do but to praise: every breath shall be praise. I have just conquered death. O Jesus, thou didst bring me into the world, and hast preferred me in the world, and hast brought me thro’ the world!” I said, “He has brought you safe to Jordan’s bank.” She said, “O yes, he has, O that I may go full sail into port! I have a blessed pilot.” This day many persons came to see her. One said, “Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord!” She replied, “So saith the Spirit: for they rest from their labours.” A convulsion followed, after which she was light-headed: unless any one spoke to her of the Lord Jesus. Then for a time, her reason returned. She did not sleep the whole night, and her breath was almost gone: yet she said, “I do not feel much pain.” Thursday 10. Early in the morning she was again composed, and said, “I shall soon be with him. I shall drink of the river that makes glad the city of God. He has brought me out the white linen and put it upon me. I see Jesus! I see Jesus! He is worth more than all I have below.” This day she often dozed; but as soon as awake, said, “O precious Jesus!” Thus she spent the day, and most part of the night, saying, “I have often been weary of speaking of him: but now I can speak of him for ever.”

17. Friday 11. She knew all that came to see her, and spoke to several of them. About ten her daughter asked her blessing. She kissed her, and said, “The Lord bless you and give you grace to be dutiful.” Soon after one came, that was very dear to her. She would have spoke to her; but at first was not able. But after a short time she said, “Her voice has been pleasant to me. Farewell. I shall soon be in heaven;” These were the last words I could understand; but she was sensible to the last. About twenty minutes before one, she fell asleep.

“Thus may we all our parting breath

Into the Saviour’s hands resign!

O Jesus let me die her death,

And let her latter end be mine!”