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Library 1994.Dr. MASON’S
SPEECH,
RELATIVE TO THE RESIGNATION
OF HIS
PASTORAL CHARGE,
IN THE
CITY OF NEW-YORIv
PUBLISHED BY WILLIAMS & WHITING, NEW-YORK,
PHILADELPHIA.•
POINTED BY JANE AITKEN, No. 71,
NORTH THIRD STREET*
1810*PREFACE.
IN obtruding his personal concerns upon
the public, an individual subjects himself,
and for the most part justly, to the charge of
egotism. But when the public condescend
to honour him and his affairs with their no-
tice, the respect which he owes to their opi-
nion imposes on him the duty of preventing
or of correcting mistakes which may be
greatly injurious to himself. Had the author
of the following pages received only a tole-
rable share of candour from many who had
easy access to the truth ; had not his feel-
ings been wantonly sported with, and his
character cruelly assailed ; had not represen-
tations tending to degrade him in the esteem
of the community, been industriously cir-PREFACE.
•av
culated ; he had never offered to the public
eye a single line on so small a subject as the
resignation of his pastoral charge. The ne-
cessity created by disingenuous treatment is
his only apology for committing his expla-
nations to the press; and he trusts that by
all good and honourable men it will be
thought sufficient.
J. M, Mason.
Philadelphia 9 th, June, 1810.
NOTE.
Excepting some slight verbal corrections; the
addition, in a few instances, of a sentence or part of a
sentence, not varying the argument, nor altering the
meaning; and the insertion, (in pp. 58, 59,) of a
paragraph which happened to be omitted in the deli-
very, the ensuing speech is printed exactly as it was
spoken.]
ERRATUM.
In page 17, line 21, fop " are ” read u is”Dr. MASON'S
SPEECH, &c.
Associate Reformed Presbytery of JVew-Yor/c,
Thursday Evening, May 24th> i810.
PRESENT.
Rev. JAMES MATHEWS, MODERATOR.
MINISTERS.
JAMES SCRIMGEOUR.
JOHN M. MASON. D. D.
JOHN MfJIMSEY.
GEORGE STEWART.
RULING ELDERS.
GEORGE LINDSAY.
DERICK AMERMAN.
PETER R. SPRAINGER.
Dr. Mason called up the papers whiqh he present-
ed to the Presbytery on the lFth, instant, at New-
burgh ; which were read, as follows, viz.
No. 1.
u To the Moderator and Members of the Associate Re-
formed Presbytery of New-Tork, to meet at Nezv-
burgh, on Wednesday the 16th day of May instant.
“Reverend Brethren,
u Serious reflection, often repeated, and, for a con-
siderable time past, habitual; accompanied also, if I
do not entirely mistake, with scrupulous caution and
fervent prayer against an improper bias, has convinced
A2
me that my longer continuance in my present congre-
gational charge, will be favourable neither to my own
peace, nor to my people’s benefit, nor to the general
interests of our church.
“ Not that I have ought to accuse my people of.”
Their fidelity to their engagements; their kindness
to myself; their respectful attention to my ministry ;
their public spirit; their orderly deportment, ever
since my settlement among them, have endeared them
to my heart; and shall forever sweeten the memory of
my relation to them.
“ But I find, by experience, that parochial cares,
to which my own judgment not less than my ordina-
tion vows, attaches high importance, are incompatible
with the work which the Head of the church has been
pleased to assign to me ; and, accordingly, I do not
so much as pretend to perform the duties resulting
from them.
“ I see the congregation suffering for want of an
efficient pastoral inspection; and I anticipate, with
alarm, the consequences of this evil, unless preventive
measures be adopted speedily.
“ I have used, without success, the only means in
my power to avoid the step which I am now forced
to take.3
4*My congregation are fully apprized of my in-
tention, and of my reasons; as will appear from the
document herewith presented. The decisive expres-
sions there used are to be interpreted simply of my
resolution to pursue my present application ; and not
as interfering, in any degree, with the submission which
I owe to the authority of the Lord’s house.
u I am forbidden by every Christian principle, and
by every honourable sentiment, to retain a station of
which I cannot fulfil the duties. I am equally forbid-
den to sacrifice the greater trust to the less : and, as
faithfulness to both cannot co-exist, I have only the
afflicting alternative of praying the Reverend Presby-
tery to release me from my pastoral connection.”
J. M. Mason.”
New-Yorl, 8thMay^ 1810.”
JVb. 2.
“ To the members of the First Associate Reformed
Church in the City of New-York.
“ Christian Brethren,
“ I have requested your attendance this evening,
in order to lay before you the result of my reflections,
upon a subject which has long been a source of painful
uneasiness to my mind.
uIt is now nearly seventeen years since it pleased God
to call me to the ministry of reconciliation, and to assign4
me to this congregation as the immediate scene of my
labours. The flower of my days has been spent with
you. The course of my services has been marked with
much imperfection, and many failures; but marked
also, as I humbly hope, by some degree of acceptance
with God, and usefulness to man. Being the sole pas-
tor of the congregation I was bound to perform all
the duties of that responsible office in so far as I was
really able. For several years after my settlement
among you, the state of my health, as you well re-
member, forbad, almost altogether, my discharge of
those important functions, which are comprehended
under the general term of Parochial duty. When this
impediment was removed, others were created by
trusts and employments so extensive in their nature
and so imperious in their obligation, as to demand my
first care, and to consume the leisure which I should
otherwise have enjoyed. Thus year after year has
glided by, duties of high moment to your welfare have
been unfulfilled, and the prospect of their being ful-
filled by me, is more distant than ever.
“ Perceiving, as I do, their absolute necessity to
your prosperity; knowing that the omission of them
gradually weakens the bond of affection which should
closely unite a pastor and his people ; estranges the
mind of individual members from the sense of their
common interest in each other ; enfeebles the power of
social action ; and relaxes the nerves of efficient dici-
pline—Persuaded that Christian instruction, exhorta-
tion, reproof, and consolation, are circumscribed in5
their influence, and lose much of their effect, when
they are not brought home by a discreet exercise of
pastoral inspection; and accounting the respect paid
to merely public talent but a meagre substitute for that
ardent attachment which dies away under the suspicion
of neglect; feeling, I say, the weight of these consi-
derations, it is impossible for my heart to be tranquil.
My inquietude does not arise from self-reproach. As
the highest of all authority, even the indisputable au-
thority of him whose I am and whom I serve, has
released me from parochial duties, by calling me to
others which are incompatible with them, my consci-
science is pure. My anxiety is caused by the damage
which your interests must sustain in consequence of
parochial duties not being performed at all. Your pa-
tience under the privation, and your kindness to me
personally, increase, instead of diminishing my diffi-
culty. These things I frankly communicated to you at
a congregational meeting in the fall of the year .180/.
Although I had frequently spoken of them in private,
I did not think it could answer any good purpose to
bring them before you collectively, so long as I could
not see how the inconvenience was to be remedied.
But when a remedy appeared to me as within reach, I
embraced an early opportunity of proposing it, which
X did at the meeting alluded to, by recommending the
choice of an assistant to whom the parochial duties
should be exclusively committed. I was disappointed.
Beside the embarrassment of our national affairs,
which, for a time, paralysed almost every effort, a
more serious check was given to the measure by the6
state of our finances, which, it was supposed, could
not be made sufficient to cover the additional expen-
diture without either distressing or banishing the
poorer part of the congregation. My next concern,
therefore, was to devise some means of so augmenting
our resources as to remove this obstacle. After very
maturely considering the matter, and balancing the
advantages and disadvantage^ both to this congregation,
and to the church at large, I suggested the propriety
of building a new and more spacious place of worship.
As I had no doubt of the practicability of this scheme,
and of a sufficiency of numbers speedily to fill the house*
my calculation was, that a revenue might be secured,
equal to all expences ; and also that sources would be
opened of further support for our Theological Seminary
with which, in a great measure, our whole body and a
vast amount of Christian interests allied to it, seem
likely to stand or fall. But I was again disappointed.
The same objection recurred. A new church, it was
imagined, could not be erected without oppression to
a considerable portion of the congregation. I found
also a settled opposition to the plan of my having an
assistant on any terms. What the extent of it is, I
have not so much as endeavoured to ascertain, because
I perceived it to be enough to involve the prosecution
of my wishes in much difficulty. Upon the whole l am
convinced that my proposal cannot be carried through
with that cordiality which is indispensable to your
comfort and to my own. The question is decided.
My last hope of extricating both you and myself from
our perplexed condition, and yet preserving our rela-7
tion to each other, has vanished kway. The higher du-
ties which I owe to the church of God leave no place
for the details of a pastoral charge. I am at best but a
nominal pastor, and there is no probability of my be-
coming a real one. I stand in the way of one who
might be such. I cannot consent to remain in a situ-
ation so afflicting to myself, and so injurious to you.
The only alternative is that which I have adopted and
am about to mention. An alternative not hastily re-
solved upon ; distinctly anticipated long ago as a pos-
sible event; put off by my utmost exertions to avoid it,
until I am shut up to it; pondered, with much ten-
derness and solemnity, at various intervals and un-
der various states of mind; spread out, not once
nor twice, u with strong crying and tears,” before the
mercy-seat; and not resorted to after all, but from a
deliberate and thorough conviction of duty as in
the sight of God, and as one that must give account.
Brethren, we must part. My agitation and my an-
guish in announcing this to you are extreme. But
the die is cast. The thing is inevitable. I have,
therefore, to inform you, that it is my intention to resign
my pastoral charge into the hands of the Presbytery
of New-York, at their next stated meeting, to be held
in the town of “Newburgh on Wednesday the 16th day
of May next ensuing. I give you this early notice that
you may appoint, if you shall judge it proper, commis-
sioners to attend the Presbytery, and make any repre-
sentations which you may desire, so as to save the
Presbytery the trouble of a< special meeting. At the
same time candour obliges me to state, that I have com-8
municated my purpose, not as a matter on which my
own mind is dubious or wavering ; nor as a manoeuvre
to accomplish, by indirect means, views which I directly
attempted without success. My resolution is fixed, and
cannot be altered by any steps which may now be taken.
I shall detain you no longer than to subjoin an ob-
servation or two for preventing mistakes. During the
whole period of our connection the utmost harmony
has subsisted between us. The reiterated proofs of
your affection I shall cherish as a spring of grateful re-
collection while my memory retains her seat. Dissatis-
faction with my people I have none. Neither am I in-
fluenced by pecuniary motives. Your last unsolicited,
unexpected addition to my income, notwithstanding the
evils under which you labour were not removed, is a
proof that you are ready to preclude all just uneasiness
on that score.* But my salary doubled, trebled, quadru-
pled, would not induce me to retract, or even to hesi-
tate. The reasons of my present conduct would still
operate with unabated force.
4t Nor have I been impelled by private chagrin or
resentments. I have no personal quarrel with any man
among you ; and if I had, I should enjoy ineffable con-
solation from the assurance that the uniform tenour of
my life puts me above the suspicion of acting from such
paltry passions.
* Some months before, the congregation, without my request, expectation, or know*
ledge, unanimously votsd the addition of 100 pounds per gnnum to my former salary.
J. M. M.9
In declaring my intention of resigning my charge*
I am not to be understood as expressing any inten-
tion of abandoning the pulpit. To preach Jesus Christ
and him crucified, is my honour and my happiness :
nor shall I desist from my loved employment so long
as I am permitted to abide in it; but shall continue
to labour in the word and doctrine as God in his
providence shall appoint me to a proper scene of action.
In the interim between this date and the meeting of
the Presbytery in May, I shall perform, if the Lord
will, my public functions as usual.
The respect which I owe to my more intimate
friends, and especially to the members of session, de-
mands an explanation of my silence on this interesting
subject until the hour of my laying it before the .con-
gregation. It is not strictly a sessional business. Talk-
ing of it, while the facts to determine the issue were
still in suspence, might have been interpreted as a
threat, or at least as an indecorum toward the congre-
gation. I also studied to shun the multitude of discus-
sions to which it would have given rise ; and thus to
spare myself and my brethren much pain which would
otherwise have been unavoidable. My feelings at this
moment justify my precaution: they are sufficiently
excruciating without having been subjected to agony a
thousand times repeated.
You will readily excuse me for not addressing you
in person on this occasion. My heart tells me that I
could hardly sustain the conflict. That heart is filled,
B10
and shall be filled with affectionate remembrance of
you, and with fervent supplication for your temporal
and eternal felicity, while the hand which ^expresses
its emotions is able to subscribe the name of
Your friend and pastor,
J. M. Mason/
N'ew-York, March 12th, 1810.”
The foregoing papers having been read, Mr. An-
drew Foster, the commissioner of the congrega-
tion, stated, in a few words, their acquiescence in
Dr. Mason’s resignation, and their desire to have
as much of his services as possible, in the form of
supply.
Dr. Mason then rose and spoke as follows.
Mr. Moderator^
IF the circumstances under which I now
address this Presbytery did not deeply agitate my'
mind, I should have forsworn the best affections
of human nature. In the disruption of any ties
which do not bind us to misery, there is some-
thing painful: but in the disruption of ties which
form one of the most tender relations of life;
which time has made venerable, friendship sweet,
and religion sacred, there is something at which theheart trembles and shrinks away. I own that I
have trembled; I own that I have shrunk, in the
anticipation of this hour. Seventeen years of a
comfortable, a cherished, and, I trust, not altoge-
ther a barren ministry, create feelings which the
touch of rudeness would profane; and claims
which none but the highest authority can set aside.
I have peculiar causes of attachment to my peo-
ple, and to the place where they worship. Both
are, in some sense, my inheritance. Here my fa-
ther prayed, and God heard him : here my father
preached, and God gave him seals of his ministry
and crowns of his rejoicing. The memorial of his
faithfulness is perpetually before my eye; and in
the spot over which I now stand, his flesh rests in
hope. I have entered into his labours. The" seed
which he sowed I have been honoured to water. I
have seen many of them who were the friends of his
earlier and of his later days, who have also been my
own friends, gathered peacefully to the tomb. Isee
others of them waiting till their change come. I
meet every Lord’s day; I discern around me now,
the faces of not a few whom I may present before
the mercy-seat, and say, “ These are the children
whom thou hast given me.” Assuredly, were
affection the only thing to be consulted, instead
of cutting the cord which unites me to them, I
should seek to entwine it more closely with every12
ligament of my frame. But I am not my own; I
am not theirs. I owe a nobler allegiance than can
grow but of their love; and to that allegiance do
I bow when I ask to be released from my pasto-
ral charge.
Moderator,
The system of every well regulated church is
a system of fixed ministrations. For the lighter
services of the pulpit; for social prayer and exhor-
tation ; generally, for the more public exercises of
religion, an itinerant ministry, although, with the
exception of missionaries, far inferiour in labour,
in care, in self-denial, in responsibility, may get
along and be popular. But for sound exposition
Of the scriptures; for “ giving to every one his
portion of meat in due seasonfor training up
the youth; for coercive and preventing discipline;
for carrying both the law and the gospel home
to every man’s “business and bosom;” briefly,
for binding up and consolidating the invaluable
interests of a Christian community, there is no
adequate, and no appointed, means but a stated
ministry. Without it there may be preachers in
abundance, pastors there can be none. This broad
and obvious distinction is recognized in the form
of a call customary in our churches; which, tak-
ing for granted that a minister is to preach, lays the13
principal stress upon his pastoral character. True
it is, that no man can be a scriptural pastor, who
does not “ feed his flock with knowledge and with
understandingbut he may provide their weekly
food, plenty and good, and yet lamentably fail in
his pastoral work. For my own part, the longer I
consider the nature and design of the Christian
ministry, the more does the importance of those
functions which are termed parochial duty, rise to
my view. I am persuaded, that without them no
congregation can permanently flourish, nor any
pastor be permanently comfortable. There are a
thousand avenues to conviction which no public
Instruction can enter. A thousand difficulties to be
solved which the pulpit cannot reach. There is an
adaptation of general truth to particular circum-
stances, fit only for the private walk or the fire-
side. There is a correspondence between doctrine
preached and exemplified which forces its way si-
lently, but most effectually, to the heart. By pasto-
ral vigilance and prudence, abuses are to be check-
ed, and scandals prevented, which when permit-
ted to ripen for judicial cognizance, are often be-
yond remedy. It is of unutterable moment to cou-
ple, in the early associations of children, the idea of
their minister with that of a spiritual father, and
of their own relation and duties to the church of
God—which is impossible without frequent and14
affectionate intercourse. The want of this is the
most fertile secondary cause of that absurd con-
tradiction which reigns among the churches,—•
treating our baptized youth as if they Were mere
heathen. The feeble are to be strengthened, the
lame to be healed, the wanderers to be hunted up
and brought back. The drooping spirit is to be
cheered ; the thoughtless spirit admonished, the
impetuous spirit restrained. The presence of a
faithful pastor refreshes the soul>of labour, and
sweetens the crust of poverty. His voice smoothes
the bed of sickness, and mitigates the rigours of
death. In short, his people expect from him nu*
merous attentions which allow of no substitute.
They furnish an irresistible argument for rich
preparation before he begins. He will find it a
hard effort to make up deficiency afterwards, and
not withhold them. Yet, withhold them, and af-
fection, the basis of confidence and of usefulness,
gradually wears away. Talent may inspire admi-
ration; it will certainly command respect; but it
cannot extort love. On the other hand, there is
nothing which men resent more promptly, forgive
more reluctantly, and forget more slowly, than
neglect. You may deny their requests ; you may
expose their errours; you may reprove their faults;
but neglect them you may not. The civilities of
life, and the friendly exteriour may indeed remain;15
but you shall find, on the first decisive experi-
ment, that the power of their affection is gone.
They always feel themselves neglected when the
parish services of their minister are not rendered.
Whether the neglect be real, or only apparent.—
Whether there be just cause or not, for the omis-
sion, are questions which may have some influence
on the progress of things toward this result, but
will very slightly,: if at all, vary the result itself.
The services are not rendered, and that is enough.
This night does my own experience seal the truth
of my remark.
Super added to those general reasonings
which apply to hll pastors and their people, is a
consideration of peculiar force in its application
to myself. To me, sir, has been committed, that
honourable but most arduous and responsible of-
fice, the office of forming the minds and habits
of our rising ministry. On me it is severely in-
cumbent neither to lay nor permit to be laid, in so
far as I can hinder it, any stumbling-block before
their feet. What is the fact? They hear trie urge
parochial duties as indispensable. They know
that I perform none. They, at the same time,
see my congregation apparently flourishing.—
What is likely to be the present conclusion ?16
Manifestly this: either that I do pot believe my
own declarations, or, that, supposing me to be
sincere, I over-rate the value of parochial duties.
What is likely to be the future result ? Mani-
festly this : supposing that any of them should
neglect their own charges, they will comfort
themselves by quoting me. They will remem-
ber the general fact, and will forget the cireum-,
stances which render it no precedent for their
imitation. They will also be tempted to hold in
light estimation the sacredness of their ordi-
nation-vows, one of which expressly promises di-
ligence in parochial work. And thus, in the very
act of betraying their trust, they will endeavour
to quiet their consciences by pleading the exam-
ple of their instructor to justify their treason. No
example of mine must afford any colour fqr such
an abuse.
With this manifold conviction bearing upon
my spirit, viz.
1.	That parochial duties are essential to the
prosperity of a congregation:	.
2.	That my people were suffering, in their
most precious interests, for want of them:17
3.	That it was impossible for me to perform
them:
4.	That the state Of feeling which arises from
supposed neglect, in their omission, was every
day becoming more visible:
5.	That the omission of them set an example
which my students, should they be so inclined,
might hereafter abuse to the incalculable mischief
of the churches—
With all these distressing convictions haunt*
ing my soul, I ask, moderator, and I put the ques-
tion home to every member of this court, and
to every person within these walls, how was it
possible for me, without the utter extinction
of whatever is holy or honest in man, to re-
main easy, or inactive. Yes, sir, I have had On this
subject, hours of anguish to which no one was
Witness but the great keeper of secrets. Large
and repeated draughts of bitterness, in comparison
of which all that others have suffered on my ac-
count, are no more than the straggling drop.
Often, often, did I interrogate myself. “ Are
you not pastor of this congregation?” “Yes.”
“ Do you fulfil the engagements contracted at
your ordination ?” “ No.” “ Are not the congre-
c18
gation suffering from the omission ?” “ They
are.” “Is the omission wilful on your part?”
“ That I can answer firmly in the negative.”
“ Why, then, do you not adopt some remedy ?”
“ Because there is none within reach.”
Thus did I commune with my own heart and
with my God, when some I doubt not, imagined
I was utterly unconcerned. Nor did I break si-
lence to men, unless in a very general way, until an
opportunity occurred, as I thought, of disembar-
rassing myself, and my congregation. Then I
lost no time in explaining, first to the session and
trustees jointly; and aftervyards to the congre-
gation, the interference of my public trust with
the details of congregational labour. I frankly told
them that these details I could not perform, and
therefore would not so much as attempt it. That
. I felt myself liberated from the necessity by the
authority of my master in heaven, who had as-
signed me other work of larger interest and more
imperative obligation. That I could not, however,
with a good conscience, stand by and see their
spiritual edifice decay ; nor abstain from giving
them open warning; and pointing out the only
means of preventing the ruin consistently with my
remaining their minister.—That means was the19
procuring of an assistant to whom the parochial
duties should exclusively belong.
This was in the fall of 1807. The proposal was
differently received by different persons. Some, I
know, were decidedly favourable. Others were
decidedly and actively unfavourable. They urged
■“ the general inconvenience of collegiate charges
“ as experienced in this city.—The unseemliness
“ of allotting two ministers to the same congrega-
tion in New-York; the one preaching, the
“ other sitting idle, while so many places are desti-
tute of the Christian ordinances altogether—and
“ the impracticability of providing for two minis-
ters without such an increase of burdens as
“ should either oppress our poorer members; or
“ expel them from our sanctuary.?’
These are all the avowed reasons which came
to my ear, and I suppose they are all which
cOuld be plausibly produced. The first confound-
ed a connection of two ministers in one congre-
gation with the union of two or more congrega-
tions in a common charge; and therefore had no
force at all which would not equally shew the im-
propriety of more than one minister in the same
town or city. The second was dictated by that
very common but very small calculation, which' 20
sacrifices substance to shew; and is never con-
tented unless a minister be wedded to a congre-
gation, although his labours, in a different form,
repay the church of God, in advantage to her ge-
neral interests, a hundred fold. The third, viz.
that my expedient “ would distress or banish our
poor,” I never believed nor do I now believe to
have any real foundation. Facts are against it. The
poor themselves did not urge it. But it is not un-
usual for men to frame opinions for the poor, and
act as their advocates; while at the same time,
these very poor are often ignorant of the Vhole
matter, and disclaim, upon the first information,
the sentiments attributed to them. Let me speak
freely, for I speak with certainty. The poor, not
those who subsist upon alms, but those who ac-
quire a decent support by honourable industry,
are grievously injured. My experience enables,
and respect to a highly meritorious class of the
community enjoins, me to testify, that the poor
are not the first to decline their share, and more
than their share, of public burdens. Were the
opulent to contribute, in proportion to their power,
the tithe of what is contributed by the poor, there
could never be any want of means for the noblest
purposes of beneficence. Yet as the poor are fre-
quently misled into notions and conduct which if
left to themselves, they would never have adopted;21
and as a plea founded upon professed regard to
them, is well suited to enflame their minds, I did
not judge it advisable to press my point, till I was?
prepared to meet the principal objection with an
answer more decisive than reasoning: especially
as some alleged, doubtless in proof of the general
disaffection toward my plan, that it was espoused,
in the meeting of the congregation, by only a so-
litary individual. This is extremely fallacious.
Modest men, unaccustomed to appear in pub-
lic, can rarely overcome their diffidence so far as
to speak in a promiscuous assembly. Their feel-
ings are mistaken, because not expressed; and
inferences are drawn from their silence the very re-
verseof the truth. But, takingthefact as it is stated,
viz. that only an individual espoused my cause ;
let it never be forgotten that that individual was
Alexander Campbell. A man whose value
I knew well, but knew too late: and who is now
without peradventure, in a better world. Allow
me, sir, to say of him,—it is the only opportunity I
have had of paying my tribute to his memory—
allow me to say, without discourtesy to any of our
surviving friends, that for all which belongs to
native energy, united with unbending integrity,
and an utter abhorrence of petty intrigue, he has
not left his superiour among us. Without learning
himself, a man of mere learning was a plaything22
in his hand.*—Without political training, he was
a politician of larger and of sounder brain than
the most of those whom we call statesmen. But
he was modest—he was retired—he was not seen
but in the effusions of unfettered confidence : he
Was not seen at all by the mass of those with whom
he habitually conversed. I have wondered that, in
the holy providence of God, such rare intellect
should have been expended upon blocks of marble,
when it might have been appropriately occupied in
rearing the moral edifice of a nation. But he is gone
to a scene where his faculties shall not miss their
employment: his dying lips breathed out the vir-
tue of the blood of the cross.—I pass by his tomb,
and repeat in my sorrow, “ yes ! here—(with no
Perhaps)—in this neglected spot is laid
A heart once pregnant with celestial fire ;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed,
Or wak’d to ecstasy the living lyre.”
Pardon my digression—1 return.
/
Whatever was the state of private wishes,
nothing was done. A number talked; none exerted
themselves, and the decisive moment passed by.
Then came the embargo, which will be had in
unblest remembrance, so long as a measure so
absurd, immoral, and destructive, shall be entitled23
to a “ bad eminence” in the records of the world.
—Our little bark was locked up in the universal
frost; and nothing could be done till Mr. Er-
skine’s thaw in the spring of 1809. The revival of
our commerce and the cheerful activity which it
diffused, seemed to be a proper juncture for sug-
gesting a second measure, which, by removing
the danger of tpo heavy a pressure on the poor,
might not only accomplish the first, but open new
sources of both comfort and usefulness. This was
the erection of a larger and more commodious house
of worship. Accordingly, on the 16th of May
last, I presented to the board of trustees, through
their chairman, a memorial of which the following
is a copy, viz.
“ Sir,
“ I hope I shall not be thought officious in asking
the early and decisive attention of the trustees to an
object of confessed importance, and which has, for some
time back, been a frequent topic of conversation among
the members of our own, and our neighbouring church-
es.—I mean the erection of a new and larger place of
worship.
“ 1 have often expressed an opinion that a place of
worship should be of a moderate size; very little, if
any, more spacious than the one which we already
possess. And to that opinion, as to a general rule, I still
adhere. But this rule, like all others, 1 find by experience24
$o have exceptions, A great city produces habits and cir-
cumstances which cannot be controled by a small section
of its inhabitants, and which prudence directs them to
turn to their advantage. It is a principle in human na-
ture, that every thing, to be respectable, must be on a
scale proportioned to the scene of auction. Large cities,
therefore, will have large dwelling houses ; large build-
ings for civil purposes; large establishments for charity;
ahd, on the same ground, large churches. Viewing
the subj ecft' in this light, I am compelled to yield to the
reasons which require us to prepare, without delay,
for providing a larger and more commodious house of
worship, ■
44 We owe it to our own relative .standing in the com-
munity, which will be materially affected for the better
by such an alteration.
44 We owe it to the claims upon our liberality for
great and noble purposes of beneficence, which it will be
in our power to answer more extensively, as well as
more easily, by an increase of reputable members.
44 We owe it to our own children who very shortly
must be expelled from our sanctuary, unless room be
made for them.
44 We owe it, finally, to the great interests of religi-
ous truth and order which our Lord and master has
committed to our hands, and which we are bound both
by his authority and his love to extend as far as we can.25
“The measure, therefore which I have taken the
freedom to recommend must come into operation before
long, whether we will or whether we will not. In this
alternative, the sooner the better. If it is to be done
at all, my persuasion is, that it should be done now. My
reasons are these:
‘‘That which must be done hereafter, and may be
done now, ought, for that reason alone, to be done
noxv.
“ They who do not seize Time by the forelock, will
find it very difficult to hold him by the back of the head.
In plain words. If we wait till circumstances command
us, when it is our power to command circumstances,
we commit an act of indiscretion of which we shall re-
pent but once, and that is forever after. This congre-
gation has already lost to an immense amount of com-
fort, if not of property, by permitting occasions to pass
by unimproved.
“The impediments to the public prosperity are again
removed, and the return of commerce and active busi-
ness has diffused cheerfulness and spirit through the
community. Strike while the iron is hot. Six months
hence may be too late.
“ There is a strong religious sensibility in the city
peculiarly favourable to the undertaking.
D26
u The congregation is ripe for it. It is a subject of
conversation and anxiety ; and some are ready to step
forward with liberal donations.
“ A number of respectable and religious families are
waiting to see if they can be accommodated. They
cannot and ought not to remain unsettled. The pros^
pect of procuring seats will determine them. Other-
wise they must and will go elsewhere.
“The expence of building will be much less to us
than to others after allowing for the ground and mate-
rials already our own; and, deducting from the addi-
tional cost the amount of donations which will be
made, the balance will be comparatively trifling; and,
by a judicious mode of arranging the finances of the
congregation, will be speedily extinguished. Had the
thing been done seven years ago, we might now have
flourished in an eminent degree, and been nearly if not
entirely out of debt. Should the present opportunity
be suffered to slip ; we may in vain look for another
like it for a dozen years to come. There are critical
periods in the history of societies as well as of indivi-
duals, which if once lost, are lost forever. The present
seems to be such with us. Should the trustees see the
matter in this light, as I flatter myself they will, not an
hour should be lost in forming their purpose, making
it public, and following it up with active measures*27
The whole extent of my personal efforts they know
they can command, and that I am,
“ With perfect respect and attachment,
“Their much obliged and obedient,
J. M. Mason.
“Nexv-Tork, 16th May, 1809.
“The Chairman of the Trustees of S. P. Church
THE subject was certainly important; the
manner of communicating it respectful; and the
reasons for a prompt attention to it, not abso-
lutely contemptible. Yet notwithstanding the
subject, the manner, and the reasons, I never
heard one syllable from the board till about six
months after; that is, on the 7th of November.
And all that I then got was this laconic message,
that they had “ postponed the consideration there-
of for the present!!” I shall not affect to conceal
that I was deeply wounded. A right to judge for
themselves they undoubtedly had; and I never
thought of objecting to their freest exercise of it,
however different their conclusions might be from
my own. But I, too, had my rights. On a sub-
ject deeply interesting to my private peace, my
public character, and the prosperity of our
churches, I felt that I had a right to be heard; to28
be heard speedily ; to have my proposals fully
considered; and if they should be inadmissible,
to have the reasons for rejecting them fairly stated.
But that such a paper as I offered should be tossed
carelessly aside—that I should be suspended on
the tenter hook of anxiety for six months—that
even the consideration of my memorial should
then be postponed, indefinitely, without the small-
est notice by the board of one of my reasons, and
without assigning one of their own, was such a
departure from all the decorum of life, that sub-
mission to it would have been inconsistent with
self-respect, and would have curdled the very
milk of Christian meekness. My feelings were, I
believe, intelligibly conveyed to the board in
another letter three days after; and there the bu-
siness, under that view of it, ended. I wish to be
perfectly understood as referring to the Trustees
in their corporate, not their individual capacity; and
as criticising their act, not their motives. I had not
then, nor have 1 now, the smallest suspicion that
they, or any one of them, intended to be uncivil.
Tori have not yet learned to suspect a bad mo-
tive, when a better is equally reasonable. I had
ever ranked them among my personal friends ;
I had done nothing either to incur their resent-
ment, or to forfeit their esteem ; and, therefore, I
could not, without violence to my own mind,29
impute to them any wilful contumely, although
their act was pretty highly spiced with that qua-
lity. I regret the necessity of advening to this oc-
currence at all. But as it is an essential link in the
chain of events which led to my present applica-
tion, the mention of it was unavoidable.
Whatever injury the message of the Trus-
tees did to their intention, their act could not be
mistaken. It was, unequivocally, their official
negative upon the scheme of a new church. What
other interpretation could it bear? To say the
very least, such a postponement, after so many
months for deliberation, betrayed an indifference,
which, when hard pressed, would break out into
resistance. With a bias of so much wealth and in-
fluence, as centered in the board, against my plan,
or without that bias for it, how should it succeed ?
I could not reasonably imagine the trustees to be
alone in their feelings and policy ; for I never so
much as dreamed that a proposal to build a new
church should find its way into the box of se-
crets. There was, also, no method of bringing
the question fairly up, but what should put my-
self at issue with the Trustees before the bar of the
congregation—an experiment fit only for mad-
ness to adopt. Each side would have had its sup-
porters ; and a miracle could hardly have saved30
us from intestine war. Such a consequence my
soul shuddered at; and resolved upon no ac-
count to hazard.
I entreat my brethren to look, now, upon my
situation. Two years before, I had told my people
that I saw their prosperity fading for want of at-
tentions which it was impossible for me to give ;
that I could not consent to the further progress
of the mischief; and besought them not merely for
my sake, but for their own ; for the sake of their
families, for the sake of the church of God, to pro-
vide an additional minister. The measure is de-
clined ; and the only reason which had even the
shew of solidity is the burden which it would im-
pose on the poor. I wait patiently for a fit oppor-
tunity of meeting this difficulty : I find it in cir-
cumstances favourable to the erection of a larger
house of worship; an expedient which, in the
nature of things, would have thrown the weight
where it ought to lie, upon the shoulders of the
rich; and would have extended our resources
through their means. The plan is smothered for
six months—it is, then, dismissed, unconsidered,
without the common forms of courtesy..—When
called up in private conversation it is opposed by
men of influence ; and, to my utter astonishment,
opposed upon the old ground—sympathy for the‘31
poor! In short, I perceived a fixed determination
to discountenance and defeat it. What is the
amount ? “You have told us, sir, that the duties
of the congregation cannot be performed, nor its
interests cherished, nor your own heart be at peace,
without an assistant. You shall have no assis-
tant.” “ Why not ?” “ We cannot furnish one
without so raising the rents in our little church as
to distress the poor.” “ Build another one, and
let the rich bear the burden.” “ No, sir, collegiate
charges are bad. It would not look well to have
one minister in the pulpit and another sitting and
hearing him.—you will drive the poor away.—In
one word, you shall not have an assistant upon
any terms; and your comfort, and your cares,
and the interests of the congregation, may help
themselves as well as they can.”
I do not say that this process passed formally
through any man’s mind: but I say that it is the
true language of the conduct which I am consider-
ing. What then was to be done ? The only plan
which could be devised for cherishing this people,
consistently with my remaining their minister and
the head of our seminary, had been rejected under
both its forms. The alternatives are plain. Either
I must foster the seminary to the detriment of my
congregation: or my congregation to the detri-32
ment of the seminary; or I must resign my pastoral
charge. Could even a very moderate understand-
ing co-operating with upright principle, hesitate
for a moment ? Retain my charge under all its
embarrassments ; after my solemn and public de-
clarations ; at the expence of wringing my heart,
polluting my conscience, and stamping on my
forehead the brand of hypocrisy ! Abandon our
infant seminary! Lay the axe to the root of a tree
which the Lord’s own right hand hath planted!
which his gracious providence has watered; and
of which his people are beginning to eat the fruit!
Pour blasting and mildew over the green hope
of our churches ! Give the signal to Hell for a
burst of Paeans to another triumph of her dark-
ness ! The suggestion is enough to make the
Devil blush.—Nay, sir, to that institution I will
say as the mourning prophet to the holy city—
If I forget thee, let my right hand forget her cun-
ning. With that institution, whatever be the ab-
surd confidence of dreamers,—with that insti-
tution, in all human probability, our churches
stand or fall. In providing liberally for it, we are
providing the bread of life and the water of life
for generations to come. In permitting it to lan-
guish and to die, we shall help to bring on a famine
of the word of the Lord under which our chil-
dren and our children’s children will sink down§3
into the arms of the second death. To the great
interests of religion, many of which ate bound up
in that institution, I must be devoted in body,
soul, and spirit. This is the sort of work for
which God made me. “ And wist ye not that I
must he about my father’s business ?” Far from
my eyes be the gloom of that day; I mean, the
blackness of that night—in which this fountain
of life-blood to our churches shall be dried up.
In the event of such a catastrophe, unless my
views materially change, or providence should
find me other appropriate employment, I should
consider, and, without prejudice to the authority
to which I am subject, I beg the declaration may
be remembered, I should consider my ministerial
commission as abrogated; and myself ordered,
by my roaster in Heaven, off ecclesiastical ground.
Since, then, it was my duty to promote the
greatest good of both my congregation and of the
seminary; and since the continuance of my pre-
sent relation involved the sacrifice of the one to
the other, there was no choice.—I was shut up
to the necessity of resigning my pastoral charge.
I say “shut up to this necessity :” for the facts
which I have submitted to the Presbytery shew,
that it was not of my own seeking, nor of my own
creating; that I struggled hard to shun it; but
E34
was compelled to it; and I was compelled by
nothing more directly than by the measures which
were deemed proper by some of the brethren
whom it has most deeply offended.
I announced my purpose to the congregation
in my letter of the 12th March last. But before
making this communication I had explored the
consequences, and considered in what manner they
might be directed to the happiest issue. The death
of a good plan is often the birth of a better. God
disappoints our hope, that he may give us some-
thing greater than we had hoped for. More than
once has he been thus bountiful to my feeble ef-
forts: I trust he will be so now. To quit the semi-
nary, the city, or the pulpit; to take another paro-
chial charge; to maintain my family with my pri-
vate property, or upon the public fund, were equal-
ly out of the question. The expedient which pre-
sented itself as precisely suited to these compli-
cated emergencies, was the erection of a third
church upon such a scale and such principles, as
should allow me to preach the gospel statedly,
should also insure the benefit of a complete pastor,
and should be able, without difficulty, to pro-
vide for both. This new plan was to be surveyed
in two lights;35
1st. As desirable.
2d. As practicable.
To me it appeared every way preferable to the
first plan of pulling down the old church and
erecting a new one on the same scite.
The present building, which may last along
time, would be thrown away.
The materials, as I discovered from more cor-
rect information than I formerly possessed, would
be worth nothing: the expence of preparing them
for use being equal to their value when prepared.
The design could not be effected without dis-
turbing the graves of a great number whose
friends and families are still in the congregation.
On this subject human feelings are intractable;
and though their opposition might not perhaps,,
be invincible; yet it would be very strong;
would be accompanied with vehement passion;
would require very delicate and dextrous manage-
ment ; and even when subdued would leave be-
hind it heart-burnings and animosities.36
A third building would yield all the advanta-
ges of a new one upon the scite of the first, even
supposing the old one to be deserted; and we
should have the old one into the bargain. So that
we should, really have two churches for the same
sum, which, on the plan of pulling the old church
down, would be expended on one, with the mere
difference of the ground on which it now stands.
A third church, therefore, is preferable on the
score of economy. It is preferable on much higher
accounts.
Th rer churches in one city, are in themselves.,
better for any denomination than two.
A fourth congregation may be formed much
moire easily from three, than a third from two.
Larger revenue for our seminary may be de-
rived from three than from two.—And this I
viewed as an object of immense importance.
The Presbytery of New-York has to sustain
the heaviest pressure of our public burdens. It
occupies a most interesting position in the body ;
and therefore, the more you can increase its re-
sources, the more will you promote the good of
the whole.37
One minister more than our number of pulpits,
would enable us to meet pressing calls, of public
service, which would redound to the benefit of
the body, and of religion at large; which are now
almost impracticable; and which could then be
performed without injuring our general interests
through this Presbytery, whose prosperity and
adversity are, pre-eminently, the prosperity and
adversity of our whole denomination.
New-York is fast becoming the London of
the United States. The habits and character of
such a metropolis exert an incalculable influence.
It is, therefore, of unspeakable moment to our
state and country, that her habits and character
be on the side of that “ righteousness which ex-
alteth a nation.” The more of pure religion you
preserve and disseminate in her, the more likely
are you to produce so blessed a result. And
though no one denomination can do every thing:
yet each denomination may do something. Every
evangelical church is one; and every one counts.
The erection of a third church is, therefore, most
desirable. But,
2, Is it practicable $38
The question can regard no impediment but
such as must arise from either want of wealth or
want of people.
The first admits not of a discussion. Should
a man seriously assert that there is lack of wealth,
the world would laugh in his face.
Btjt where are your people ? It is alleged that
we have not enough to fill a third church; and,
therefore, it is concluded that such a measure is
premature. Had this course of objecting, for I
will not call it reasoning, prevailed in other times,
instead of two respectable houses of worship, we
should now have boasted only a pitiful hovel.—
When my father came to this city the whole con-
gregation assembled in a small room; therefore
it was a mad speculation to build a church larger
than 25 by 20 feet! When the extravagantly big
little place which was erected began to overflow,
all prudent calculation was set at defiance in the
building of this edifice, 66 by 56 feet.—And when
here, again, we felt ourselves crowded, and ven-
tured upon an additional church larger still, we
certainly took leave of our senses! Really, sir, I
am ashamed to hear men of any understanding
talk so wildly. How shall you increase your num-
bers when you have not a corner to spare ? The39
only way to get people, if you can hold out other
inducements, is to make room for them. You
surely do not expect that they will stand in die
aisles, or out of doors in sunshine and rain, or en-
ter their names in a book of supplicants, and wait
until you shall please to pronounce that there are
enough to fill a larger house! In speaking of such
egregious trifling it is hardly possible to be grave;
and yet the pertinacity with which it is adhered
to, proves that there is a grave principle connect-
ed with it; and that is, most evidendy, a deter-
mination to resist the plan contemplated. I shall,
therefore, give the objection a more direct answer
than it would otherwise deserve.
According to the best computation, the city
of New-York contains one hundred thousand
souls. Supposing, which is much too great an
allowance, that one half will not attend public
worship; and allotting, which is also too much,
one thousand individuals, or one hundred and six-
ty seven families upon an average to each congre.
gation, we should then need fifty places of wor-
ship for our present population. Now reckoning
every thing in the shape of a church, their whole
number does not exceed forty six. Deducting
those which are merely nominal, the remainder
does not exceed forty or forty two at the utmost;40
so that we want for that part of our actual popu-
lation which would attend the Christian ordinances
if they had opportunity, not less than eight or ten
new places of worship calculated for one hundred
and sixty seven families each: and our popula-
tion is increasing every hour. Therefore, unless
we pay ourselves the ungracious compliment of
believing that we carry about with us some Gor-
gon head to frighten folks from our Sanctuary,
When they eagerly flock to every other which can
receive them,-the fear that we shall not have peo-
ple enou gh is altogether idle.
The general argument from this state of our
population is enforced by experience. A few years
ago our brethren'of the General Assembly erect-
ed a new church near Corlaer’s hobk.-r-Jt was
soon filled Up—The Methodists have erected new
churches, and they; are filled up—The Baptists
have, pulled down one church and they have built
another in its place, and it is filled up. They
have since added others. The Reformed Dutch
church built a new one a very short time since,
and it is filled up. Only two years ago, another
Presbyterian church was built in Cedar Street,
and it is filled up. Both these denominations now
need another each: and our Episcopal friends, pro-41
vident for futurity, are building and buying in
every direction.
What has been our own experience ? In 1793
this congregation could shew only about one hun-
dred and eighty members. The house is seated
for above eight hundred people, and when press*-
ed will hold one thousand. Four years after, it
was necessary to swarm. A new church rather
larger than this was built in Magazine Street. A
considerable section of the worshippers in this
house removed to that—In less than two years
they were replaced, and the new house was also
filled. In 1804, when it was settled, the minister
entered upon his charge with a body of people if
not greater, certainly not less, than assembled
in this place. I do not love to repeat grievances:
and, therefore, shall not say a syllable of their
subsequent calamities; nor of the cause which
produced their second vacancy four years after.
We know that, as a congregation, they were near-
ly annihilated. Yet the fragments of this congre.
gation, having been bound together in a call to a
new pastor, are already reviving. Even now, be-
fore the youth of high and early promise whom
they have chosen, is set apart to his office, a stream
©f fresh population is pouring in upon them,
F42
For ourselves, in this place, we have been long
surcharged. A contrary representation has, indeed,
gone forth: and from the idea that none have
applied without being accommodated, the peo-
ple have been left to infer that little if any more
accommodation can be necessary. This is all a
deception. Ido not say intentional; but still a
deception, and a gross one. It is not correct in
point of fact. I can produce instance upon in-
stance to disprove it. And if it were, the inference
Would be false. Multitudes who wished to be
With us did not apply, because they considered
their application to be hopeless. And thus repu-
table families have successively passed us by and
beeii compelled to join others who had more pre-
caution than ourselves. But why resort to exter-
nal evidence ? Let those who have really any
doubts consult their senses. Let them believe
their own eyes. Look around these walls. Every
inch that can be covered with any thing in the
shape of a pew, is occupied. With here and there
an exception, the square pews have two, and some
three, families each. If an individual wants a seat,
there must be inquiry, calculation, negotiation,
intreaty, in order to get it. Two evils are the im-
mediate effects. First, our aggregate revenue is
greatly diminished. The rent of a pew is divided
among its occupants. The church gets no more43
from its numbers, but the individuals give less.
The same families which, if there was room,
would pay for two or three pews, pay only for
one. Secondly, the seat-holders have it not in
their power to bring their friends with them ; and
thus the most certain and regular fountain of sup-
ply and growth to a church, is almost dried up.
With such facts staring us in the face, we are
gravely asked, Where are your people ? It really
sickens one’s heart. If the existing circumstances
Of our city do not promise complete and speedy
success to the plan which I have unfolded, there
is no reckoning upon human things. Moral cer-
tainty is at an end. It was never yet seen that a
proper ministry wanted hearers. Plant down an
able and faithful minister any where, not under the
reprobation of God for despising the gospel, and
there is no fear of his preaching to the walls. In
New-York, at the present juncture, the encourage-
ment is flattering beyond former example. Our as-
cended Lord has shed down his blessing; there has
been and there is yet, a steady and increasing anx-
iety for his word and ordinances. This is the time
when every eye should be vigilant, every heart
alert, and every arm nerved. Yet this is the time in
which those to whom, in my charge, it peculiarly
appertained to be active, have chosen to do noth-ing. It was not my duty to wait upon their tar-
diness, nor to slumber in their languor. I have
acted accordingly.
Such, sir, are the reasons which governed my
conduct. I covet no subterfuge. I shrink from
no scrutiny. “My record is on high.” Most
gladly would I now leave myself with my bre-
thren ; and retire from the further consideration
©f a question which has convulsed me with agony.
But I owe to myself and to truth the indispensable
duty of adverting to the treatment which I have
received from quarters where I had a right to ex-
pect different things. I have been so long accus-
tomed to be misrepresented ; and I have so uni-
formly repaid calumny with contempt, that had
the present been a common occasion, I should
have contented myself with saying, “To me it is
a small matter to he judged of you or of man’s
judgment;” and should not have turned upon my
heel to avoid the imputations which have been
heaped upon me. But forbearance has bounds.
Impunity must not always embolden slander.
There is neither wisdom nor religion in a man’s
allowing himself to be bitten, without resistance,
by the tooth of detraction, when, as in the affair
before us, the poison spreads into the remotest
veins of his reputation.45
Against my people, as I have said, I bring
no accusation. Even with injurious individuals,
whom alone the subsequent remarks will annoy,
I shall have no personal controversy. My object is
to vindicate myself, not to criminate others. Per-
sonalties, therefore, I shall have none; nor any
thing which can be supposed to have a personal
bearing, unless conscience be the interpreter, or
the authors of unkind insinuation have’ already
published themselves.
If ever my intentions were pure, my views dis-
interested, and my efforts directed to a good and
noble end, I think they have been so in the mea-
sures which have now excited resentment, bitter-
ness, and reproach. I had flattered myself that
men who profess to be my friends might dissent
from my opinion without disputing my veracity.
Yet notwithstanding the tender and solemn decla-
rations of the letter which you have heard, my
testimony has been spurned.; and the substance,
the motives, the controling influence, and the form,
of my proceeding, acrimoniously censured.
With the evil which cleaves to human con-
duct there is, for the most part, a mixture of
good. Bad plans often originate in good motives;
bad motives enter into good plans. The best in-46
fluences fail from an improper method of opera-
tion; and influence of the most hurtful sort-finds
shelter and acceptance in a popular manner. But
in my policy, it seems, there was not so much as
an alloy of good. The plans were bad; motives
bad; influence bad; mode bad; all bad toge-
ther—a frightful mass of depravity and folly.
“ I have deserted my post; I have forsaken
“ my friends; I have rent the congregation—I
“ have been actuated by mere pride. I have be-
“ come tired of my poor, religious people ; and
“ want to sacrifice them for the rich and great
“ who have little or no religion. I have learned to
despise the friends of my father and my own
“ friends, who took me up and fostered me into
“all the consideration I possess. I have grown
“ ashamed of my father’s countrymen and coun-
“ try.—I have trampled upon the practical wis-
“ dom of the good old men ; and have yielded
“ myself to the direction of those with whom I
“ have not even been brought up; and, that no
“ species of evil counsel might be wanting, I have
“ fallen into the snare, and been prompted by the
“ instigation of the Devil—and the whole, whether
“ unadvised or ill-advised, has been done with
“ rash and headstrong temerity.”47
Is it possible that such suggestions can proceed
from Christian lips? They are applicable to
none but a monster of iniquity.—They have all
been applied to me, though perhaps not all by the
same person. And for what ? Why truly, mo-
derator, because I would not retain a trust which
I cannot fulfil! because I wish to promote, on
the largest scale in my power, the kingdom of
our Lord Jesus Christ! because I propose to form
a new congregation with a direct reference to this
end ! But let us examine these charges.
1. “My conduct has been bad in itself.—I
“ have deserted my post.—I have abandoned my
“ friends.—I have rent the congregation !”
No, sir, I have not. I never yet deserted my post,
nor abandoned my friend, nor promoted discord.
I have publicly announced my intention of asking a
release from my present charge. But release is not
desertion. It was not from my friends, nor from
the congregation that I wanted a discharge; it was
from an obligation to impossible duties. I shall be
pastorally separated from those who befriend me, as
much as from any of those who have expressed a
wish to see me “ humbled.” I shall be personally,
and in pulpit-services, separated from none of them
but by their own choice. If there be any desertion,f
48
it isnot I whodesert them,but they who desert me.
There is nothing to hinder them all from enjoying
my ministrations as formerly, if they please. Should
the whole congregation go along, it will only be
moving from an old house to a new one. I own
I would not wish it; because I wish to see three
congregations, and all of them flourishing. I own I
do not expect it; because I think it contrary to the
principles of human action. And this was the basis
of part of my calculation. But surely, sir, if some,
following their own inclination, had rather remain
where they are, they might have done so with
good temper. There was no necessity for abusing
me; and, I verily think, no Christianity in it. But
it is, above all, most marvellous to profess their
regard to my ministrations to be the cause of their
disquietude, and prove that regard by preferring
walls and benches to me and my ministrations
too! To insist that they are grieved to part with
me; then to tear themselves away by their own
act: and, then, to turn round with wrath upon me
for deserting them! Really, sir, this is out-stern-
holding Sternhold, in the highest style of perform-
ance.
2. My motives were vile. “ I have been actu-
“ ated by mere pride. I wanted to sacrifice my
“ poor, religious people of whom I have grown49
“ ashamed, to the irreligious rich and great.—I'
“despise my father’s country, countrymen and
“friends to whom I owe every thing;” See. Sec.
To all such insinuations I might, and to most
of them I shall, oppose the unvaried tenour of my
life.
Moderator,I have served this peoplefor more
than seventeen years. Malevolent eyes have con-
tinually watched me, and I challenge the world
to produce a single plan or measure of mine to
justify in the slightest degree, the gentlest, (if the
distinction of more and less gentle has place
among them) to justify, I repeat it, the gentlest of
all those foul insinuations. Opulence and gran-
deur I have sacrificed to the church of God-—to
this people—and they know it. Talent in our
country, need not enter the pulpit without being
in some degree allied to the spirit of martyr-
dom. The road to wealth and honours takes
another direction. Other things being equal,
the ministry, of all human professions, is the
most helpless and unfriended. Since the time
of my settlement here, lawyers, merchants, phy-
sicians, have made their fortunes; not an indus-
trious and prudent mechanic but has laid Up
something for his family. But should God call
c50
s me away to-mbrrow, after expending the flower of
my life, my family could not shew, a single cent
for the gain of more than , seventeen .years toil.
And were it not for some private property quite
insufficient for their maintainance,and education,
my wife and her children would be set adrift
upon the world without bread to eat or raiment
to put on. And yet, after my giving one of the
strongest possible proofs of disinterestedness, men
who have been accumulating the good things of
this world and enjoying their religion too, come
forward to she w their Christian zeal by charging
me with motives-not only selfish, but meanly and
basely selfish. One would hope that the charity
which thinketh no evil, might; put a,good con-
struction where it is easy ; and not rack its in-
vention in search of an evil one,wheh it has first
to get rid of both, presumption, and proof to the
contrary.
I am forcibly reminded of a memorable pas-
sage in the history of David. The Philistine of
Gath had defied, the armies of Israel, so that
‘‘they: were dismayed and sore afraid.” The
stripling son of Jesse, who had gone down at his
father’s command to see his brethren in the field,
heard the words of the boaster. .His spirit rises:
his blood fires : he offers himself to the combat.
Shall not, now, all Israel cheer the gallant boy ?SI
Shall not His Bravery, his zeal, his love of country,
his devotion to God, fill every heart with affec-
tion, and every tongue with applause ? Shall not
his brothers feel their bosoms swell with virtuous
elation before this rising glory of their name?—
Yet hear! “ Eliab’s anger was kindled against
“ David, and he said, why earnest thou down
“thither? And with whom hast thou left those
“ few sheep in the wilderness ? I know thy pride,
“ and the naughtiness of thy heart, for thou hast
“ come down that thou mightest see the battle.”
The language of David was noble, his resolution
heroic; his object most magnanimous; and yet his
friend, his kinsman, his brother, falls into a pas-
sion—charges him with deserting his post—im-
peaches his motives. This uncourteous greeting,
a little modernized, would sound as follows.—
“ You pretend great regard for the honour of
“God, and the good of Israel. But it is your
“jbride, sir; it is your dissatisfaction with your
“ trust—it is your anxiety, and a corrupt one,
“to catch at an opportunity of gratifying your
“ ambition, which has drawn you from your
“ flock to the army. Go tend your sheep, sir,
“ and it will be better for you !”—All this from
a brother! Aye, from a brother! “ What have
“ I now done?” said the young saviour of Israel;
“is there not a cause?” Yes, cause enough:52
honourable cause: cause of which God shall:
transniit his approbation to the latest ages.—
What then, is the matter with ■ Eliab ? he over-.
looks the plain fact, and goes a motive-hunting.
—There is an explanation.—Why, what evil has
David done? what evidence is there of his bad
intention ? None at all. Ah! but Eliab’s vanity
had been mortified in the affair of the kingdom!
3. The influence which swayed me is vile.
“Keen sighted observers have penetrated the
“conclave; have discovered the wicked advisers;
“ nay, have read the interiour of my heart, and
“ detected the machinations of the evil one-—I
“ have fallen into temptation.”
%
On that rudeness which, uninformed of facts
and undesirous of information, has invaded my
private friendships, and has not spared even the
hallowed circle of my family, I shall not descend
so low as to make a single remark.
The detection of the Devil in this matter is
somewhat curious.
We live in rare times. The love of change has
taken a most boundless sweep. The infernal cabi-
net has not escaped. Hell has revolutioned her53
to the glory of God our Saviour, and to work
hard for the effectual preparation of an evangelical
ministry 1 This is the best argument I ever yet
heard for the dogma of universal salvation; as it
shews something like the dawnings of repentance
and reformation in a region whose history has hi-
therto been rather an awkward comment on the doc-
trine of our hyper-bencvolent theologues. How-
ever, let me put in a word for Satan on this subject.
I do verily believe him to be as innocent of aiding
of the Christian church, as a devil can well be of
wilfully undermining his own power. Seriously,
sir, what must we think of this doctrine of temp-
tation? It goes a great way.—It embraces all of
our own connection either in the congregation
or out of it, who deem my plan a good one and
worthy of support.-—It reaches to every minister
arid private Christian in other denominations,
(and they are not a few) who have expressed
themselves favourably, and have wondered at the
“ infatuation” of the opposition. Men friendly
and unfriendly to us; religious and irreligious;
have united in their judgment that the plan is well
calculated to produce a strong, and beneficial re-
sult ; and some of our own friends cannot explain
its origin or operation without having recourse to54
the machinery of the pit! Perhaps they may flinch
from this picture; and disclaim such sentiments.
Well. Why then do they talk of temptation ?
And why do they continue hostile? “ He casteth
“ out devils by Belzebub the prince of the devils,”
said the Pharisees of our Lord Jesus Christ. “ By
“whom then,” replied he, “ do your sons cast
“ them out?” The Devil tempts me to aim at an
object confessedly good. Who tempts the op-
posers?
But if every other objection were set aside; if
substance, motive, influence, were all right; still,
4. The form of my procedure was totally
wrong. How? “I concealed my intentiort.—I told
“ not my congregation.—I consulted not with my
“ friends whose age and experience entitle them
“ to confidence.—Instead of gradually preparing
“ the way, I took all by surprize.” And this is a
principal source of offence and difficulty.
What sir? Do Christian men say, that no plan
however good shall have their support unless they
can appear as original movers of it? And that
they will disobey their understanding, their con-
science, and their master too, without a previous
compliment to their vanity? I hope not. But the55
objection says so. It was surely inconsiderate. »I
shall press the matter no further.
-•But how were all taken by surprize? I had
told the Session, the Trustees, the assembled con-
gregation,. more . than two years before, that I
could not and would not consent to the continu-
ance of that unprosperous state of their affairs
which I in treated them to remedy. Was this no
warning? Did they think all my representations
to be mere sound? A matter for a week’s specu-
lation, never more to be thought of? Is it ray
habit thus to trifle ? When I renewed the subject,
eighteen months after, in my communication to
the Trustees, was this no warning? Did not this
furnish to that respectable board a proof that pa-
tience is not submission? That I had not lost
sight of my object, and was not to be diverted
from its pursuit? If they overlooked so plain an
admonition, and composed themselves to sleep
for six months longer, the fault is not mine.
When they had rejected my proposal under the
guise of a postponement, I spoke still more point-
edly. In my letter written three days after their
very singular message to me, viz. on the 10th of
November last, I went so far as to say, that since
they rejected every plan which I could propose
for promoting the good of the congregation, with-56
out offering any substitute, and without taking
any step whatever for removing the existing diflt->
culties, I should trouble them no more—that I
held myself utterly irresponsible for consequences
—that nothing remained for me but to look out for
some expedient for relieving myself and my con-
gregation from our common embarrassment—an
expedient in which, for aught I knew, the concur-
rence of the Trustees might not be necessary!
Was this no warning? What was it? I thought
it rather a broad hint—but it was hot taken.—
That I could not help. I had, some weeks after,
an explanatory conversation with a committee of
the board, who treated me with all the kindness
and delicacy which became -friends and gentle-
men. But though I put the question directly as to
the intention of the board on this most interesting
topic, I could hot get so much as even an opinion.
Four months more slipped away, and nothing was
done, nor likely to be done. I had long made up
my purpose' cdnditionally; I now made it up de-
finitively; and, as I said to the congregation, “ the
“ die was cast.” These, Moderator, are facts.
They are almost all upon record. Thedocumehts
will speak for themselves. And yet a clamour is
raised against me for taking every body by sur-
prize. I did no such thing. I did not, indeed, say,
in so many words, “I shall give up my charge un-m
less you comply with nay request.” It would not
have been discreet. But I certainly put the board
in a way of drawing an inference for themselves
with no other trouble than that of putting two very
simple ideas together. If they were not at that
trouble, I am not to blame.
“ But, after all, why did I not consult before I
“ decided?” Consult whom? About what? “ My
“ congregation; or, at least my experienced friends
“ in the congregation.”
Really, sir, the reception which all my pre-
vious overtures met with left me no heart to try
another experiment. I had consulted and intreated,
and remonstrated, and waited, without effect. Why
should I subject myself to a new risk of finding
how little my reasonings and my feelings were re-
garded? But I own that, without such a draw-
back, I would not have been, on the point of my
resignation, a whit, more communicative. I, will
tell you why.	*
To consult the whole congregation would have
been a burlesque upon all counsel. How could so
mixed a mass be either competent or impartial ad-
visers? Consult them about the propriety of part-
H58
ing with what they professed to love! Is there a
man living so unschooled in the knowledge of
men as not to see that this is an absurdity?-
Would demonstration itself persuade any people
on earth to give up, of their own accord, a minis-
ter whom they prize and are able to support ? To
consult them would be to ask them to set their
faces with all their might against the project. It
would kindle a flame; it could procure no counsel.
But I ought to have consulted “ the respectable
“ and experienced members of the congregation.”
That is, the very persons who were not to rouse
nor repress, but simply to direct, the popular feel-
ing. I might as well have gone, at once, to the
popular feeling itself. There were other difficulties.
I had no experience to consult. Far from my
thoughts be the least disrespect to men who, in
their sphere, are worthy of all consideration. But
human experience is as various as human pur-
-suit. A man may have a world of experience on
one subject, and none at all on another. If I want
to embark in a mercantile speculation, I will con-
sult the experience of the merchant. If I labour
under a dangerous disease, I will consult the ex-
perience of the physician. If I am going to set up
..machinery, I will consult the experience of the59
mechanic. If I wish to form a correct judgment
on a point of national policy, I will consult the
experience of the statesman. But I will never-go
to a statesman for advice about a steam-engine ;
nor to the doctor for instruction about the foreign
market: any more than I shall go to the mer-
chant with a cancer, or to the brick-layer with a
matter of state. Neither will I, in the discussion
of a question which is to be settled by balancing
general principles and relations, apply to an ex-
perience which lies quite in another course. The
experience of merchants and mechanics is most
important in its place; but immeasuring my facul-
ties with their appropriate objects, and in ascer-
taining the bearings of our public interests, was
of no use to me. When, therefore, I am reproved
for not consulting my experienced friends, the
reprover ought first to shew that their experience
was of the proper sort. To stand alone, is, in fact,
one of the evils incident to men who take a po-
sition or form a plan which is not embraced by
the ordinary routine of life. Consultation with
an experience which has nothing in common with
their views and feelings, can only multiply diffi-
culties and vexations. Their path is up hill; and
they can gain nothing but additional labour by
inviting half a dozen or half a score of acquaint-
ances, who will never be persuaded by any thing60
but success, to hang each his weight about their
necks. They must decide for themselves upon
their own responsibility^ I knew the condition,
I accepted it, and have nothing to repent of, to
retract, nor retread.
Supposing, however, that I had adopted the
method which has been dictated to me : let us see
how it would have worked. Either my communi-
cations would have been kept secret or not. If
kept secret, they could no more benefit the con-
gregation, than the secresy of the trustees about
the proposal for a new church. When divulged,
as they must have been sooner or later, they
would have given as great a shock as my'let-
ter of the 12th March; and Would have been
greeted With the indignation of the people, who
would have considered themselves as handed
over to the mercy of a few dark intriguers. Re-
verse the picture. Had the secret been blown, as
most undoubtedly it would, not only should I
and my confidants have been-involved in a thou-
sand angry disputes; but it would have beCn
said, not unplausibly, that I was fomenting a fac-
tion in the congregation to dispose of their dear-
est possessions without their knowledge or con-
sent.61
My counsellors, too, might have differed, and
given opposite advices. Follow both I could not.
They whose advice was not followed, would
have been quite as much displeased to have it
rejected, as not to have it asked. It is also fa?
from improbable that my own results would
have differed from both, as much as they from
each other; and so all would have been affront-
ed. It would then have been discovered that I
never meant to be advised at all; that I only
made use of my friends as a screen for myself;
and mocked them under the semblance of respect.
It would have been said, that I enjoyed the ad-
vantage of all the intelligence, prudence, and ex-
perience of the best men in the congregation, and
treated them with contempt. Would this have
mended the matter ? These are not after-reasonings.
They passed distinctly through my mind long be-
fore I acted. I thought them then, and I still think
them conclusive ; and that the course which I
took was the least hazardous, the most delicate,
and every way the best. 1 have had no cause to
change my opinion : for after the multiform in-
vestigation which the subject has undergone, I
have not acquired a single new fact; nor have I
heard a single objection which I had not fre-
quently examined and dismissed.62
A word more on this head. Considerable re-
sentment was occasioned by a suspicion, which,
as usual, soon grew into an assertion, that while
I had neglected rnv old friends, I had all along
consulted with others who had much less claim
to my confidence. I heard of this, among a thou-
sand other falsehoods; and to counteract it sent to
the congregation a written declaration that I had
formed my resolution without the advice or know-
ledge of a human being. The letter containing
this declaration was publicly read : and yet, sir,
the same insinuation, now become indecent and
insulting, was afterwards repeated to me in no
very equivocal manner. It was the lie direct in
every thing but the formality of the expression.
I have expounded myself without reserve, and
now 1 cast myself upon the candour of my bre-
thren. They will judge whether I have acted
honourably or basely ; and whether or not I have
deserved the “ hard speeches” which have been
uttered against me, even by those who insist that
they are my friends. In some instances violence;
of meaning has been accompanied with mildness
ofmariner. But a dagger is not the less murder-
ous because its point has been steeped in oil. But
I have done; I wait the issue.63
Me, sir, nothing can take by surprize. I am
alike prepared'for success or for defeat. I am prepa-
red to see our holiest interests flourish, and to see
them languish—prepared to see our budding
hope, our little seminary, branch out its honours,
shed abroad its foliage, and multiply its fruits; or
withered, from the blossom to the root, by the
deadly East-wind of prejudice and parsimony—
prepared to see the men who shall refuse their
becoming offerings to build up the temple of the
Lord of Hosts, put their money in a bag with
holes: sow much and reap little : their fortunes
scattered to the winds of Heaven ; and the ini-
quity of their covetousness or of their passion visit-
ed upon their children’s children. The flying roll
wherein is written “ mourning, and lamentation,
and woe,” passes swiftly over the nations—I
hear the portentous roaring of wild misrule. I see
approaching the cloud of desolation which is to
rain down upon the slumbering churches its tem-
pest of brimstone and salt. My heart is pained
within me.
For myself, an atom in the sum of things,
God can do as well without me as with me. The
paramount desire of my soul is to proclaim that
Saviour whom I hope to meet in the clouds of
Heaven; and to assist in rearing up young he-64
raids of his truth, who shall fight his battles and
bear his glory when my feeble voice shall be
heard no more, and my clay shall mingle with its
kindred earth. I thank my Lord for all the good-
ness and mercy which have followed me to this
day. But if the hand which has lifted me up is
about to cast me down—“ If he shall thus say, I
“ have no delight in thee ; behold, here am I, let
“ him do to me as seemeth good unto him.”
Dr. Mason’s request was granted: and on Friday
the 25th of May, he was released from his pastoral
charge.
FINIS.