Testimonies of Healing
I wish to express my gratitude to God for my healing in Christian Science, which occurred about two years ago. I had been a sufferer from stomach, liver, and kidney troubles for eight or nine years, which had brought on most persistent and aggravating sleeplessness.
On the basis that gratitude seeks expression, I write a few words regarding the way in which God has guided me to a clearer view of Truth as revealed in the Bible and "Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures" by Mrs. Eddy.
I write in loving gratitude for the peace that Christian Science has brought me. I have indeed found it to be "a divine utterance,—the Comforter which leadeth into all truth" (Science and Health, p.
After passing three score and ten years, I found myself diseased, waiting for death, and believing it would open the gates of paradise for me. I suffered from stomach trouble, which had cast a dark shadow over some thirty years of my life.
In giving my testimony I must go back to the time of the Anglo-Boer war, in order that my narrative may be clearly understood. Being an old burgher of the late South African Republic, I was called upon to take a very active part in the war.
One afternoon last October the family of Mr. G.
Several years ago, when I was utterly discouraged, — sick in mind and sick in body,—despairing of regaining the health and happiness that seemed to have been lost, I went to a Christian Scientist, hoping to be freed from the pain that had been my companion for so long, but knowing nothing regarding this Science except that it promised physical relief, not even then appreciating the fact that it was in any way connected with religion. My thought always turns lovingly to that time when almost at once the burden of suffering and sorrow was lifted, and a new world took the place of the old.
It is about a year since I became interested in Christian Science. For a year and a half previous to that time I was altogether miserable and unhappy.
One afternoon last October my husband, my daughter and myself were poisoned with mushrooms. At the sight of the mushrooms I had smiled, for I remembered having seen many years ago a row of mummies in the vault of a church in France, in a part of the country where mushrooms abound.
In March, 1903, I was brought home from the hospital where I had been taken for an operation for the removal of a growth on the liver. One prominent physician had said that an operation would be useless, as I could not live through it, but two others pronounced my case incurable without it.