JfiuiWnts
in the
LIFE OF 1 PASTOR.
"The redemption of the soul is precious."
Psalm xlix. 8.
" 'T is not the whole of life to live,
Nor all of death to die."
Montgomeby.
EDITED BY T. O. SUMMERS, D.D.
Najsfiitlle, :
SOUTHERN METHODIST PUBLISHING HOUSE.
1860.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by
J. B. M'FERRIN,
in the office of the Clerk of the District Court for the Mid¬
dle District of Tennessee,
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY A. A. STITT,
SOUTHERN METHODIST PUBLISHING HOUSE, NASHVILLE, TENN.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Preface 5
Editorial Note 7
INCIDENT FIRST.
" What must I do to be saved ?" 9
INCIDENT SECOND.
"But thanks be to God, which giveth us the vic¬
tory through our Lord Jesus Christ".., 32
INCIDENT THIRD.
"Except ye be converted, and become as little chil¬
dren, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of
heaven" 40
INCIDENT FOURTH.
* The kingdom of God is not meat and drink;
but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the
Holy Ghost" 51
INCIDENT FIFTH.
'One thing thou lackest" 63
iy CONTENTS.
INCIDENT SIXTH.
"Then Jesus beholding him loved him" 78
INCIDENT SEVENTH.
"Thus saith the Lord, Set thine house in order;
for thou shalt die, and not live" 84
INCIDENT EIGHTH.
"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy" 109
INCIDENT NINTH.
"My son, give me thine heart" 115
INCIDENT TENTH.
" Go, and sin no more" 125
!§nfan.
The following authentic details of
some cases occurring during the course
of my ministry, as developments of the
Christian life, therefore good for edifica¬
tion, I have put down simply as they
transpired, and with no aesthetic embel¬
lishment of fiction or figure.
In godly sincerity, with many prayers,
the writer commends them, in their
spiritual mission, to the heart and con¬
science of the reader.
(?)
gtoit.
The author of this little volume is an
estimable member of one of the Annual
Conferences of the Methodist Episcopal
Church, South. The "incidents" which
he reports are beautifully illustrative of
the benefits resulting from a faithful dis¬
charge of pastoral duty. They will be
read with interest and profit even by
those who, like us, may have some mis¬
givings in regard to death-bed repent¬
ances—several cases of which are here
reported.
Nashville, Tenn., June 13, 1860.
(vii)
INCIDENTS
in the .
LIFE OF A PASTOR.
INCIDENT FIRST.
"What must I do to be saved?"—Acts xvi. 30.
At the close of a very rainy, cold, and
disagreeable day, I had laid aside my
hooks to wait for candles to he lighted,
when I was called on to go with all pos¬
sible haste' to see Mr. , who was at
, in a dying stMe. I immediately
ordered my horse, and drove down.
"When I arrived, I- met Mrs. at
the door. She exclaimed,
"O, Mr. M , you are too late !"
(ix)
10 INCIDENTS IN THE
I was about to reply, when the physi¬
cian, coming out of the sick man's room,
made the same doleful exclamation:
" Too late ! too late !"
The doctor and nurse both told me
that the sick man was too far gone, both
in soul and body, to be benefited by any
thing I could then do.
"However," said the doctor, "you can
see and speak to him."
I hastened to his bedside, and found
the patient in great agony, both mental
and physical.
The sick man took up the same melan¬
choly words of* his doctor and nurse:
" Too late! too late ! too late !"
"Yes," added he, "I have been too
late all my life in every thing right and
good!"
I said to him, " I am sorry to find you
so low."
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 11
He replied, " I am very bad, very bad:
almost gone."
"Well," said I, "bow do you feel in
view of death ?"
" Bad enough, bad enough: no hope,
no hope."
I said, "My dear friend, God is merci¬
ful."
"Yes," he replied, "but I am too vile
a sinner."
"But," I said, "Jesus came to seek
and to'save them that were lost."
"Ah, it is too late for me now: you
don't know what a sinner I have been;
I have made sport of religion; I have
hated it, spurned it, scoffed at it. I am
a brute, and no man; I am worse than a
dog; I am only fit to be kicked out into
the street, and there left to perish, like
another beast. Ho, my dear sir, no,
there can be no hope for me: I am too
12 INCIDENTS IN THE
great a sinner for God to save me. I
thank you for coming; but it is of no
use; I have been too great a sinner; I
cannot be saved now; I know I cannot."
I begged him to be composed one
moment, and hear one text from the
word of God. He became somewhat
calm, and I repeated, " Christ Jesus came
into the world to save sinners."
"Ah," said he, "they were not such
sinners as I have been."
" But hear me through," said I ;* "hear
what the inspired writer says of himself,
that he was exceeding mad against the
Church, persecuting even to the death
all who believed in Christianity; and
yet this is his testimony: 'This is a
faithful saying, and worthy of all accept¬
ation, that Christ Jesus came into the
world to save sinners, of whom I am
chief. Howbeit, for this cause I ob-
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 13
tained mercy, that in me first' Jesus
Christ might show forth all long-suffer¬
ing, for a pattern to them which should
hereafter believe on him to life everlast¬
ing.' "
He still, however, continued to speak
vehemently of his sins, and his miserable,
hopeless condition. I proposed prayer:
he assented, begging me to pray for him,
for he said he could not pray; he did not
know how to pray; he never had prayed
in his life. I kneeled down at his bed¬
side and prayed; I felt an unusual fervor
in prayer. He, poor man, joined very
earnestly, after each petition ejaculating
"Amen! Amen!"
After prayer, I presented many texts
of Scripture, such as I thought adapted
to encourage and lead him to the cross;
hut he still continued to doubt and fear,
still declaring himself too great a sinner
14 INCIDENTS IN THE
to be saved, I assured him the grace of
God is abundant and free, and uited him
that word which says, "Wherefore, he
is able also to save them to the uttermost
that come unto God by him, seeing he
ever liveth to make intercession for
themand also the declaration of Jesus,
that none that come to the Father
through him are sent empty away; and
that the Saviour came not to call the
righteous but sinners to repentance. I
presented the case of the prodigal son,
his extreme degradation as a sinner, his
reception, etc., on his return to his
father's house'.
"All that is true," said he; "but I
can't come, I can't repent, I can't pray, I
can't believe; I am so great a sinner, I
can do nothing. O, I am lost, I am lost,
for ever lost; I am ruined, eternally
ruined!" And, with a countenance marked
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 15
with horror, and the very picj^re of de¬
spair, he repeated rapidly, " I am lost! I
am lost! I am lost! ruinod! ruined!
ruined for ever arid ever!"
Surely lean never forget the imploring
look of that poor man at that moment
of awful darkness. Mrs. was com¬
pelled to leave the room; it required
stronger nerves than hers to remain the
spectator of such a scene. O, what
thoughts of my fearful responsibilities as
a minister-of Jesus Christ gathered about
my heart, and what resolutions I then
formed in regard to my future course as
a messenger of peace! I had attended
the dying-bed of this man's wife and his
daughter—his only child—both of whom
had died in the faith of the gospel.
Then I thought of his case, but without
either faith or hope, believing him, from
a long course of dissipation, to be utterly
16 INCIDENTS IN THE
callous to any considerations of a reli¬
gious character. He always met me
with a look of the most perfect indiffer¬
ence, and always avoided an interview;
and yet I was the only minister he, on
his dying-bed, would consent to see, and
the only one who could have found access
to him at any time. O, at these times
of bereavement, if I had broken through
every hindrance, and made a personal
appeal to his heart and conscience; if I
had prayed specially for him; if I had,
despite his coldness, conversed with or
even written to him, he might possibly
have been saved. But alas for my want
of faith, I did none of these things; and
yet I now perceived that under that
cold, forbidding exterior there was a
soul capable of being awakened, and
that perhaps might have been converted
and saved—yes, through the boundless
LIFE OF A PASTOE. 17
grace of God, that even he might yet he
saved.
We always feel backward in speaking
of the salvation of a case like this.
There is hut one example of this kind
given in the book of God, so that, while
we may he encouraged, even at a late
hour, to seek and hope for mercy, none
may be encouraged to postpone repent¬
ance, presuming upon that hour. The
examples of hopeful conversions on a
death-bed that occur in a minister's ex¬
perience are rare, and he is diffident in
speaking even of these.
The poor man at that moment sank,
exhausted in body and bewildered in
mind, when we all concluded that the
last ray of mental light was gone for
ever.
I left the room in utter despair of his
salvation; but in about an hour, on re-
18 INCIDENTS IN THE
turning to his room, I found him some¬
what revived. A stimulant was admin¬
istered, when he opened his eyes, and
beckoned the doctor to him, and faintly
said:
" Don't you all despise me ?"
The doctor kindly replied, "No, we
don't despise you; we pity, and wish we
could do something for you; but we can't
help you; you must look to a higher
Power; we have done all we can, and
now can only pity and pray for you."
O the blessing of a pious physician!
How conscientious, how candid was the
doctor with his poor dying patient! He
gave him no hope for his poor, perishing
body; so he gave that up, and now cared
only for the soul that could not die.
Wesley, in his "Primitive Physic,"
advises the sick to employ a pious physi¬
cian. This advice was in keeping with
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 19'
the wisdom of that great man. My own
family physician for more than a quarter
of a century was a pious man—an elder
in the Presbyterian Church. 0, how
have the acute paroxysms of' disease
been mitigated and soothed by the
thought, My doctor prays for me; he
asks the blessing of God on the medicine
he gives for my relief!
I said to the dying man, "My dear
friend, you see how kind the doctor has
been to you; you know he has done all
he could do for you; you see, also, -how
all these friends feel for you, and you
know they would gladly help you if they
could."
"Yes," said he, "I know they would."
"Well, do you not believe that God
can help you ?"
"Yes, he is able, but I am too wicked;
he will not do it."
20 INCIDENTS IN THE
"But," said I, "stop and hear what
Jesus Christ says: 'If ye, being evil,
know how to give good gifts unto your
children, how much more will your
Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to
them that ask him !"
I strove to make the above text plain
to his feeble, flickering mind, assuring
him that if he would ask he should re¬
ceive, according to the Divine promise,
which is, "Ask, and ye shall receive;
seek, and ye shall find for Jesus said,
"If ye shall ask any thing in my name,
I will do it."
He quickly replied, "Did he say so?"
"Yes, he did; these are the words of
Jesus, the sinner's Friend, and he meant
what he said. Try, my friend, try to lay
hold on these precious promises; trust
in him; believe with all your heart that
he is both able and willing to save you;
LIFE OF A PASTOE. 21
for lie tells us in so many words, ' God
so loved the world that he gave his only-
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth
in him should not perish, but have ever¬
lasting life.' "
"Well," said he, "do teach me how
to pray, how to believe. O, if he would
only put such words in my mouth as he
does in yours, then I could come to him,
then I could pray, then I could believe,
then I could hope."
He again fell into a state of insensi¬
bility, but, after some minutes, revived,
and I again proposed praying with him,
to which he replied,
" Ho, if you please; do pray, and beg
God to have mercy upon me, and show
me the right way, for I don't know how
to pray, nor what to do."
I prayed. After prayer, I quoted several
appropriate texts of Scripture, and ex-
22 INCIDENTS IN THE
horted him to look to God as to a *kind,
forgiving father, who wills not the death
of any, but desires the salvation of all
men; in whom there is abundant mercy;
whose eye of softest compassion was
then looking upon him. I told him
not to look upon *his Maker as a stern,
avenging Judge, but as a pitying, loving
Father, delighting in acts of mercy and
pardon.
But now, perceiving his mind wander¬
ing, and the doctor thinking that he
could not have another lucid interval, I,
with a sad heart, left him.
This was about eight o'clock P. M.
On reaching my home, my anxiety about
the sick man became so intense that I
could not rest or sleep. I knew that a
human soul, unregenerated, was then on
the verge of the eternal world. O, can
nothing be done? Is the die cast?
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 23
Must lie perish.? Must this poor, hum¬
ble penitent be sent empty away ? Surely
God has not so opened his eyes merely
to see his wretchedness and danger with¬
out a merciful purpose. According to
our light shall we be judged. His op¬
portunities had been few: brought up
without any religious training, no family
prayer, no Sabbath-school instruction, in
a neighborhood proverbially wicked, an
only son, left with a large fortune at
command, what might any of us have
been under such circumstances ?
I went back to the dying man. The
way was long; it was dark and cold, and
the rain pouring in torrents; but there
lay an immortal spirit on the brink of
eternity; perhaps he might have one
more lucid moment before he passed
away, and should I not be there to take
advantage of that moment ? A few mo-
24
INCIDENTS IN THE
merits, O "how much they may be worth
to that soul! I made haste, resolved to
stay with him, and earnestly praying that
he might yet find mercy.
I soon found myself by his bedside,
and, to my astonishment, found him
again revived, and entreating some one
to teach him how to pray. I immediately
brought to his notice the case of the
publican, and urged him to adopt his
prayer, and cry mightily to God, saying,
" God he merciful to me a sinner."
He said, "0 sir, I am so ignorant, you
will have to teach me as you would a
little child just beginning its A, B, C.
I do not know all of the Lord's prayer;
I can just say to 1 forgive us our tres¬
passes, as we forgive them that trespass
against us.' "
I replied, " My dear sir, it is God him¬
self that gives you that prayer, and the
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 25
only petition that you know is most com¬
prehensive. Tell me, do you forgive
from your heart every one who has ever
injured or offended you?"
" I do, I do ! God knows I do, from
my very heart!"
"Do you now entertain any feelings of
enmity to any living man ?"
"No, no, I have no unkind feelings
toward anybody upon earth."
""Well, God has said, 'Forgive, and
ye shall be forgiven.' Take hold of
that promise; claim it; urge it; it is for
you; plead it at the mercy-seat, and you
shall yet find pardon and peace. Can't
you believe this ?"
"O yes, I do begin to believe that God
is merciful."
"Do you not believe that he will be
merciful to you?"
26 INCIDENTS IN THE
"O, I do hope so; I do believe he
will."
" God has been very gracious to you,
and you ought to have confidence in
him; you ought to trust him. He has
borne long with you; he has now gra¬
ciously opened your eyes, and given you
to see your lost condition, and you are
now pointed to the Lamb of God, which
taketh away the sin of the world. God
was gracious to those of your family who
died before you: your dear wife and
daughter both found peace with God,
died in the faith, and went safe to
heaven. Don't you believe this ?"
"Yes, I do; I do believe they are both
in heaven."
"Well, can't you believe the same
grace that saved them can save you ?"
"I do believe it, I do. believe it!" he
replied with emphasis.
LIFE OF A PASTOR.
27
I asked, "Do you now hope?"
"Yes, I do; I do hope to he saved
through my Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ."
"Do you now feel that you can trust
your soul to the keeping of the blessed
Saviour?"
"O yes, I can, I can; I do hope to he
saved."
He continued speaking of the goodness
of God, and of his own feelings, some¬
times hoping, sometimes fearing, until
about twelve o'clock, when he again be¬
came a little bewildered in mind. He said,
"You must excuse me now; I want to
get a little sleep."
I left him, and returned home, but not
to sleep, for my mind was greatly exer¬
cised between hope and fear about that
soul just trembling on the verge of the
eternal world.
28 INCIDENTS IN THE
I saw him early next morning, and
found, to my great joy, he had again
rallied, and had called one after -another
of his friends to his bedside, telling them
of his feelings, how peaceful and heavenly
he felt. He wanted them all to be happy
with him. He sent for old Solomon, his
faithful servant, that he might rejoice
with him. A day or two before he sent
for me, he called this old man to his bed¬
side, and said to him,
"Solomon, you know I have often
called you an old hypocrite, and made
sport of you and your religion; but,
Solomon, yo'u were right, and I was
wrong."
He charged the young people about
him to make religion their business while
young, and not put it off, as he had fool¬
ishly and wickedly done. He hailed me
now as a brother, and told me that he
LIFE OF A PASTOR.
29
now hoped in Christ for salvation. After
soiAe strong expressions of hope and
confidence, he began and repeated the
word " Glory! glory! glory !" JHow
strange! How affecting to hear the
language of Canaan from such lips !
A severe spasm then came on, which
appeared like tearing the whole man to
pieces; hut he continued, even in his
extreme agony, to repeat " Glory, glory,
glory," until his voice entirely failed, and
he lay for about an hour insensible, and,
as we supposed, dying.
But he again roused for some time,
and spent every moment, while reason
and articulation lasted, in giving reli¬
gious directions and charges about his
plantation, people, etc., trying in the
short time left him to undo, as far as he
could, the evil influence of his past ex¬
ample. He left orders for his adminis-
80 INCIDENTS IN THE
trators to see to it that his people should
do no more work on the Sabbath, and
that his mills should never again grind
on that day, and that "allowances" should
be given always on Saturday. He had
previously made his will, and could not
now change it further than to direct the
proceeds of the present crop, which he
requested might be given to charitable
purposes. He had been very fond of the
cock-pit, but now requested that all his
gaffs, those instruments of cruelty, might
be brought and destroyed before his face.
He thus continued talking and giving
directions for some time; and even after
he had lost sight of all about him, he was
still talking about religion, his soul, and
the happiness of meeting his friends in
heaven. A short time before he became
utterly insensible, he called Mrs. to
him, and said with great energy,
LIFE OF A PASTOR.
31
"O sister, won't it be a happy time
when we all meet in heaven ?"
After this he gradually sank, until his
spirit took its leave of earth to meet its
final doom.
32
INCIDENTS IN THE
INCIDENT SECOND;
"But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory
through our Lord Jesus Christ."—1 Cor. xv. 57.
" How 'is Mrs. A this morning ?
Her health, I understand, is very poor."
I had just returned to C after an
absence of several months, and was in¬
quiring concerning the health of one who
had formerly been a pupil of ours, and
for some time an inmate of our family,
who had married and become the mother
of three children, and who was now in a
very feeble state of health.
" She is very sick indeed, sir: I have
just been shocked to learn that her phy¬
sician entertains no hope of her recov¬
ery."
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 83
" Has she any knowledge of her dan¬
ger ?"
"It has been hinted to her; but she
cannot bear the thought of dying, and
will not he convinced of her peril. I
wish you would visit her: she has great
confidence in you."
I went the next day, and found her
the mere wreck of her former self. O,
how changed from the beautiful, lively,
healthy school-girl! She appeared glad
to -see me, hut carefully avoided any al¬
lusion to her situation. Afte^ some con¬
versation, I proposed prayer, to which
she assented; but there was no apparent
effect made on her mind.
A few days after, I c'alled again, and,
seeing how rapidly she was sinking, I
felt it my duty to let her know what we
thought of her condition. She was
startled, alarmed, almost offended. She
2
34 INCIDENTS IN THE
was very young; the world was bright
and beautiful before her; she was rich;
it appeared hard to be| called so soon
away from life, with every thing to make
life desirable; to leave her beloved pa¬
rents, and she their only child; to part
from her devoted husband, her depend¬
ent little children, her many friends; to
leave all—" O, it is hard !" said she.
"But God loves you more than they
all," said I, " and knows what is best for
you, and he will do for you what is best.
Trust his -wisdom and goodness, and lie
passive in his hands: then, whether you
live or die, all will be well with you."
I prayed, and left her.
The next day she sent for me. Thank
God, his gracious Spirit had reached her
heart. She was in the agonies of bitter
repentance. She now saw herself a sin¬
ner before the eyes of Infinite Purity,
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 35
I
and she trembled at the sight. The fear
of death was swallowed up in the fear of
the wrath to come. She could meet
death, but not an angry God.
u 0, tell me," she exclaimed, "how to
find pardon and peace ! I am wretched
and undone, without the mercy of God
in Christ. O, pray for me that I may be
saved, through the mercy of "Jesus, for I
know there is no other hope for me ! O,
what a sinner I have been !"
Her distress of mind continued very
great for several days. The disease the
meanwhile making rapid and fearful pro¬
gress, I was greatly distressed on her ac¬
count. I had pointed her to the cross;
I had borne her to the mercy-seat in
prayer; I had offered her the promises
of the gospel, full and free.
Every day, as I returned from visiting
her, in answer to the anxious inquiries
36
INCIDENTS IN THE
respecting her situation, my reply was,
"Poor A , in soul and body both
bad enough: no relief for either. 0, I
fear very much that death may come be¬
fore her faith can appropriate the blessed
atonement of her Saviour to her poor
needy soul! I have never known such a
case—one so earnest, so urgent, yet so
unsuccessful. 0,'surely a soul so hunger¬
ing and so thirsting cannot be sent empty
away!'!
I now visited her every dayshe had
made me promise to see her at least once
a day while she lived. I spent hour after
hour by her dying-bed. Her constant
cry was, " Talk to me ; now read to me;
now pray for me." But still the rest of
faith came not: she still, wept before the
mercy-seat.
On Saturday night, just before retiring
to bed, feeling a strange anxiety of mind,
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 37
I~ said to my wife, " I feel very anxious
anduneasy to-night. Never did a hungry
doctor look with more anxiety for a call
to some rich patient than I do for an in¬
vitation from some poor needy sin-sick
sinner, to make known to him his remedy
in the atoning merits of our blessed Sa¬
viour. I hear old Mr. is sick: per¬
haps I am to he sent for to him. I really
don't feel like undressing, so strong is
the impression on my mind that I shall
be roused during the night. O that poor
A would send for me to tell me that
she is converted!"
Just then we heard a loud knocking at
the gate, and on inquiry, found a mes¬
senger from Mrs. A , requesting me
to come to her immediately.
" Thank God !" in one voice ejaculated
myself and my .wife. I felt that the tra¬
vail of my soul concerning A would
88 INCIDENTS IN THE
yet be satisfied. I hastened to her, and
on entering her room, she exclaimed:
" 0, Mr. M , I was obliged to send
for yon, late as it is, I was so impatient
to tell yon what the Lord has done for
my sonl. I'have at last received an an¬
swer to yonr prayers: the peace that pass-
eth all understanding is mine at last.
God has put a new song in my mouth,
even praises to his name. I can now re¬
joice in prospect of death, for its sting
has* been taken away. O, I thank God
that I was ever sent to the Sunday-school!
I used to dislike very much to go, when
a young, gay, foolish girl; but how good
it is for me that I did go !"
Turning to her young husband, she
said, "Bring up my children religiously:
send them to Sunday-school." She ex¬
pressed great gratitude to me, and gave
me out of her hands a small keepsake,
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 39
telling her friends she wished to give it
herself.
She continued in a very happy frame
of mind until her death, which occurred
about a week after her conversion. She
begged those around her frequently to
join in singing hymns of praise, in which
♦
she would occasionally unite. Thus she
continued in praise and prayer until her
redeemed spirit took its flight from earth,
to take its place among the glorified
around the eternal throne.
40
incidents in the
INCIDENT THIRD.
" Except ye be converted, and become as little chil¬
dren, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven."—
Matt, xviii. 8.
By some inattention, a letter which
should have been given me early in the
morning, from Gen. H , did not reach
me until late in the evening, when we
were at a friend's house, in ^company
with Bishop Andrew and several other
ministers, on their way to Conference.
I immediately opened the letter, and
read as follows:
Dear Sir :
A severe affliction which has recently
befallen me has made an impression on
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 41
my mind that can never be erased. I
regard it as a chastisement inflicted on
me by the great God of all, as the means
of my salvation. I have lost my beloved
son, Thomas. This misfortune befell me
on Thursday morning last. He was my
eldest son, in his thirteenth year, an in¬
teresting and intelligent youth for his
age. His illness was of but short dura¬
tion. He was taken sick of pneumonia
on Sunday evening last, and, notwith¬
standing all that could be done for him,
he expired at twenty minutes of two
o'clock on Thursday morning. The blow
has been as sudden as it was severe. It
has almost broken my heart. I feel
anxious to grant his dying-request, to
njeet him in heaven. A more interest-
ins: death»bed scene never was witnessed.
When perfectly calm and rational, he
prayed to his God to forgive his sins, and
42 INCIDENTS IN THE
receive his soul in heaven. It was a fer¬
vent and sincere prayer. He was ^always
a kind, affectionate, and good child, and
I feel confident he has gone to heaven.
He felt sure himself that he would he
happy. He knew that he would die.
He said that it was useless to do- any
thing more for him, and that he would
not live to see another day. He is now
an angel in heaven, where I have no doubt
I have three other children, angels; and,
with the aid of a merciful God, I hope to
meet them there. Will it he asking too
much of you, my dear sir, to ride down
to my house this evening, if you are not
better engaged, to afford me some com¬
fort and consolation in my trouble ? I wish
to live a new life. I wish to do, sir, wh^t
I have never done yet, to serve my God
with a penitent and a contrite heart. You
are a man of God, and let me ask you to
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 43
aid me in this great undertaking. I need
assistance; I need the prayers of the right¬
eous; and, sir, by granting my request,
you may be instrumental in saving the
soul of a great sinner. If your engage¬
ments are such as to prevent you from
coming down this evening, come at your •
earliest convenience, and spend the night
with me. I shall be truly happy to see
you.
Yours sincerely,
After the perusal of this interesting
communication, as we were about wind¬
ing up our social visit with family prayer
by the Bishop, it being -about eight
o'clock in the evening, I mentioned the
deeply affecting case, and asked an in¬
terest in the prayer about to be offered,
for the afflicted and penitent author of
the letter. The Bishop, in one of the
44 INCIDENTS IN THE
most earnest and impressive appeals to
the throne of grace I have ever listened
to, bore it in mind, and carried the sin-
stricken, bereaved mourner in the arms
of faith and love to the mercy-seat, where
Jesus answers prayer.
The next morning, by the cars, I
reached the residence of Gen. very
early, and had with him a day of uninter¬
rupted conversation and prayer. I found
him, not, as I had expected, grievously
cast down,' but with a resignation and
calmness of mind and serenity of coun¬
tenance that, considering the circum¬
stances, appeared to me remarkable.
"I rejoice," said I, "General, to find
you in this state of mind."
"Ah, sir/' said he, "it is very different
from the condition it was in when I
wrote to you. Last night, sir, about
eight o'clock, I was, for the first time in
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 45
my life, able to make a personal applica¬
tion of the promises of God, and feel
that they were for me. I jnst then felt
an intolerable burden removed; I felt a
peace springing np in my heart to which
I had been an ntter stranger before. I
felt, wonderful to relate, that I could
even rejoice that my dear child had been
taken from me to heaven, and be thank¬
ful in viewing his death as the means of
my salvation. O, how strange that this
bitter cup should prove to' me the water
of eternal life! My evidence, sir, is
not so bright as I could desire, but I
know that a great change has come over
me."
"General'," said I, "at that very hour,
when you say you received so rich a
blessing, the prayers of God's ministers
and servants were going up for you
around a family altar in C . This
46 INCIDENTS IN THE
coincidence, as the world would call it,-
we consider a direct answer to prayer—
to the fervent, effectual prayer of the
righteous."
After much conversation and prayer,
I left him, hoping, yet a little fearing, for
his case. He sent a servant home with
me to get for him some religious hooks,
which I lent him, and which he very
much needed for religious advice and
counsel, for he had no neighbor or asso¬
ciate who knew any thing about religion.
His wife had not yet made a profession
of religion, but was very serious. He,
however, remembered the prayers of his
pious mother, long since in heaven. He
also thought of the dying-request of his
beloved child, and his heart was fixed,
for he felt that Christ Jesus was his guide
and his support.
I knew that he had been skeptical, and
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 47
had* openly expressed sentiments of in¬
fidelity. I said to vhim, while at his
house,
"Have you been troubled with any
doubts in reference to revealed religion
since this change in your feelings ?"
"0 no," said he, "the time is past for
that. God's truth has been made mani¬
fest to my heart, and in these matters it
is the heart that is at fault, not the head,
as we would have people believe. "When
my heart yielded to the influence of
God's grace, every thing was made plain
to my understanding. I want no argu¬
ments to convince me that the Bible is
true. I have the evidence within my¬
self. What do I want with any thing
more ?"
Having to attend Conference, I was
absent two weeks. When I again saw
him, he was more firm, and better satis-
-48 INCIDENTS IN THE
fied of his conversion. He said he had
been sorely tried and tempted: he had
to dismiss his overseer; yet through all
he had been mercifully sustained.
He had been in the habit of profane
swearing, and expected his hardest trial
from that point, but had not once been
overtaken in this. He had commenced
the Christian life in good earnest, abol¬
ishing all Sunday work on the plantation,
and forbidding the giving out "allow¬
ances" on that day, which had ever been
a custom on his plantation. It was
affecting to see the childlike simplicity
of the man, a man of magnificent physi¬
cal proportions, wealthy, popular, influ¬
ential, yet the babe in Christ.
He requested me to come to his house
the evening before I preached at ,
and he would go with me to church,
which he did. "When I reached his house,
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 49
he met me with a face beaming with
happiness.
"O," said he, "I am sometimes so
happy, I scarcely know whether I am in
the body or out of it. "Were the wealth
of the world piled up before me, and
offered me in lieu of my present joys
and hopes, I would spurn it all; it
would be to me as dust in the balance."
The next day he, with his wife and
children, went with me to the house of
God. "When I invited persons to join
the Church, he came forward with a
firm and manly step and gave me his
hand. The stoutest sinner there bung
his head, and tears flowed freely from
eyes unused to weep. He was known
and loved by all: so elevated in position,
so noble-hearted, so generous, and now
so chastened, so meek, yet so happy.
An old negro, belonging to him, as he
50
INCIDENTS IN THE
gave his hand to the Church, shouted
aloud, "Glory to God!"
A few weeks later, his wife, also, pro¬
fessed faith in Christ, was baptized, and
joined the Church with her husband.
life of a pastor.
51
INCIDENT FOURTH.
"The kingdom of God is not*meat and drink; but
righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost."
—Rom. xiy. 17.
"Who do you think went up to be
prayed for last night as a penitent"?
Why, who but Mrs. C !"
" Mrs. C ! she has for twenty years
been an acceptable member of the Church,
and has been remarkable always for her
excellent and consistent piety. She is
esteemed one of their very best members,
abounding in works of faith and charity."
It was to myself a singular case; and to
my increased astonishment, on the suc¬
ceeding night of preaching, when a call
was given for mourners to approach t^e
52 INCIDENTS IN THE
altar for prayer, this lady was again
among the first to present herself.
Believing that my field is the world,
and not another's vineyard, I have always
been perhaps too backward in approach¬
ing the members of other Protestant con¬
gregations in the way of pastoral influ¬
ence ; but in this case a sheep had volun¬
tarily come into my fold to find pasture,
and I cannot, I must not, let her go away
unfed, unrefreshed, even though she after¬
ward prefers continuing in or returning
to her former pasture.
So the next day, as Mrs. C had
also the claim of neighbor upon me, I
called to give her what assistance I might
in the way of life. On my first visit, she
received me with tears: she was indeed
a penitent, mourning soul. I told her of
the Great Physician, and of the balm
of Gilead; but she comprehended not
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 53
yet the power or efficacy of either in the
cure of her soul's disease. Commending
her to the throne of grace, I left her.
On my second visit, she received me
most cordially, and, with a countenance
lighted up with that joy which is un¬
speakable, proceeded to tell me how she
had at last found the pearl of great price,
for she was indeed now for the first time
its happy possessor. She said, from .a
prayerful perusal of the Scriptures, she
was convinced that there was such a
thing as experimental religion attainable.
Iler friends, called this enthusiasm, but
she felt assured there is a reality in it
based upon the Scriptures of eternal
truth; so that, although for so long a
time holding a name and a place in the
Church of God, she had never been satis¬
fied, but went mourning all her days.
At times her convictions would be almost
54
INCIDENTS IN THE
overwhelming. She was once so affected
during a sermon as to cry out, " God be
merciful to me a sinner!" This was of¬
fensive to the " ears polite" of those
among whom she was wont to worship.
The pastor came to her pew and re¬
quested her to keep silence in the house
of God. She knew what she had done
was unprecedented in that Church. She
felt ashamed and rebuked: hoped her
minister would call on her at home, that
she might explain the anguish of her
soul which led to her imprudent excla¬
mation ; but he never came. Then she
felt hurt that her pastor never privately
admonished her, or tried to enlighten her
mind on the subject of repentance and
faith, the new birth, etc. She became
discouraged—subdued her convictions as
far as she could; doubts, fears, and de¬
spondency ensued; and though exem-
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 55
plary in every* Christian duty to a pro¬
verb^ yet from that time she went with
her head bowed down, and religion was
a servitude, performed faithfully,» it is
true, but gloomily and sadly.
" Twenty years of this heartless ser¬
vice, sir, I endured, till it seemed to me
I could bear it no longer. I heard of
your meetings—that souls were con¬
verted and made happy in believing;
and consulting my Bible and the articles
of religion in our Church, I thought I
would be none the less a good Episco¬
palian with a soul happy in the love of
God. "With these feelings, I went to the
altar at your Church to be prayed for;
but the blessing I sought did hot come
until in secret prayer in my own room
last night. I remembered the promises
held out to me, and the prayers offered
for me by you. I felt that I could .no
56 INCIDENTS IN THE
longer live without this blessed hope.
Just then I was enabled to lay hold on
the promises of eternal truth, and the
long-sought blessing came. O, how the
blessed sunshine of God's love broke into
my soul, like the first rays of light to the
long-incarcerated criminal—like a mighty
rush of water upon a famished, arid land !
In the first impulse of my joy, I flew
down stairs to tell my family that 'His
anger was turned away, and He com¬
forted methat I was born of God and
adopted into his family; that I was at
last able to rejoice in the God of my sal-'
vation. But O sir, they did not under¬
stand me: I was incomprehensible to
those nearest and dearest to me in the
world. I could perceive they feared for
my mind; but O _sir, I have now the
mind that was in Christ, and that makes
all right with me. ' And now, sir, I am
LIFE OF A PASTOB. 57
grateful, and shall ever be, for your min¬
istry, as the means of guiding me into
the right way, even the way everlasting.
But I have been brought up to entertain
great reverence for my own Church, of
'which I have been long a member, and
whose privileges I have greatly enjoyed,
and wish still to retain my relation to
her, hoping to be more faithful and more
useful than hitherto."
I said to her, "We do not wish you to
change your Church - membership: my
only wish for you is to see you go on
your way rejoicing to the Hew Jerusalem.
It will not there be asked by what name
you have been called here; but in what¬
ever communion you are, lose not the
spirit of your adoption: let your light
shine, that others, seeing your good works,
maybe constrained to glorify your Father
which is in heaven."
58 INCIDENTS IN THE
After praying with her, I left her,
thanking God for the grace that had been
thus manifested to one so long a mourner
in Zion.
The family had once been in affluent
circumstances, but had lost most of their
property from fire and other casualties.
Like most that have seen "better days,"
they* were perhaps a little morbidly sen¬
sitive respecting any real or fancied want
of attention from their friends. I pre¬
mise this much that I may introduce the
following.
The husband*of Mrs. C , from pro¬
tracted disease, had become almost en¬
tirely confined to the house, and, conse¬
quently, had an opportunity of noticing
much of his wife's character that might
otherwise have escaped him. He saw a
great change had taken place in her
countenance, her conversation, and de-
LIFE OF A PASTOR.
59
portment, that was formerly gloomy and
desponding. She was now happy all the
day long—a sunbeam in his sick-cham¬
ber, the brightener of his fireside, the
dispenser of cheerfulness and joy to his
household. The new principle which
she professed to have obtained must have
effected this change. He felt a secret
wish for the same peace and joy. He
had long been a member of the same
Church with her, but had never felt the
need of what he now saw he must have,
or be miserable for ever. O for help, for
counsel, for prayer! His own minister,
whether justly or otherwise, he fancied
had neglected him; he, however, lived
at a great distance from him. The Me¬
thodist minister was near, and had been
instrumental in leading his wife into the
light of life: he would send for him: it
must even be a relief to his own minister,
60 INCIDENTS IN THE
as he lived so far from him, that he
might obtain spiritual help so near at
hand. He sent for the Methodist minis¬
ter, who frequently conversed with and
prayed for him, until he too was enabled
to exercise faith in Jesus, and his soul
was comforted.
These old people had an only daughter,
a widow, living with them. Her mother's
words took fire in her heart: she, too,
longed to know for herself the blessed
hope that her mother spoke of so clearly.
She came to be prayed for in our Church,
and continued in earnest prayer for days,
until God, for Christ's sake, freely par¬
doned her sins, and she found peace and
joy in believing. She was not a member
of any Church, but of course entertained
no other expectation but to join the
Church in which she had been brought
up, in which her parents were already;
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 61
while at the same time most gratefully
and candidly acknowledging her obliga¬
tions to the.Church by whose ministry
she had been brought to a knowledge of
herself as a sinner, and to the joy of par¬
doning mercy.
In the meantime, the Rev. .Dr. ,
their pastor, hearing something of what
was going on in the Methodist Church,
and the effect on the C family, called
on the old gentleman, and rebuked him
severely for having permitted his family
to attend the Methodist meetings, or in
any way to have countenanced them.
He went so far as to tell them they had
committed the sin of Korah, Dathan, and
Abiram, and if they proceeded farther,
they would be schismatics, and he pun¬
ished eternally as such, etc.
Soon after his visit, I received a note
from Mr. C desiring me to come and
62
INCIDENTS IN THE
see him, and bring my " Discipline" with
me. I left the "hook with him ; and after
carefully reading and praying over it for
some time, he, his wife, and daughter,
all, without permit from the " successor
of the apostles," united themselves with
the Methodist Episcopal Church. The
old gentleman did not live long after;
but never did the M. E. Church in
receive two more useful, active, zealous,
working members than Mrs. C and
her daughter, who becanle burning and
shining lights in the Church of their
adoption.
LIFE OF A PASTOR.
63
INCIDENT FIFTH.
" One thing thou lackest."—Mark x. 21.
Dr. D was a most interesting
young man, possessed of the highest
educational and literary advantages, with
a fine native intellect, refined manners,
amiable temper, and prepossessing ap¬
pearance. After every professional ad¬
vantage his own country afforded, he
went through a thorough medical course
in Paris.
On his return from France, the call for
Volunteers in the Mexican War was
sounding through the land. He was ap¬
pointed surgeon to the South Carolina
llegiment. His health had suffered from
severe application to his studies in Paris,
64 INCIDENTS IN THE
and though warned of the deleterious
effect of the Mexican climate and army-
hardships, he accepted the appointment
with enthusiasm. He was at the capture
of Vera Cruz, and was standing by the
lamented Butler when a hall passed so
near them as to be felt by both. He was
full of hope, animation, and noble ardor;
hut that terrible march to Alvarado, with
a Mexican sun pouring its scorching rays
upon his head, sapped the foundation of
his constitution, delicate at best, but
which might, with the ordinary hard¬
ships of war, have remained in sufficient
strength to insure great usefulness during
the campaign, and a high degree of emi¬
nence in his profession subsequently.
He, however, was compelled reluctantly
to resign, and returned home the mere
wreck of himself.
I was at his mother's house when he
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 65
reached home. His widowed mother
was very much shocked at his emaciated
appearance. It was manifest to alt that
he had come home to die.
The disease progressed rapidly—it was
consumption; hut, as is usual in such
cases, for some time he could not he in¬
duced to realize his situation. It was so
pleasant to get home, to enjoy its com¬
forts, to have a fond mother and affec¬
tionate sisters about his bed, the old
family servants in his room, the family
physician, old friends and early asso¬
ciates ! How different from the inns by
the wayside, where he so often was forced,
from exhaustion, to stop! He had ex¬
perienced sympathy and kindness, but it
was the sympathy and kindness of stran¬
gers. They were not kindred hearts that
sympathized, nor kindred hands that min¬
istered. But to die just as he had reached
3
66 INCIDENTS IN THE
home—it appeared hard; he felt it so, for
he had not yet learned what this means :
"All things work together for good to
them that love God." His mind had not
$ien realized by faith that there was5
another, a better home preparing for
him, even a house not made with hands,
eternal in the heavens, where his Heavenly
Father would receive him, and angels
become his companions.
He was gradually brought to look away
from earth to heaven, and his faith,
though at first as a grain of mustard-
seed, I believe took root, so that he at
last let go his hold upon earth, and laid
hold on the hope set before him in the
gospel, which became to his soul as an
anchor, both sure and steadfast.
On profession of fai£h in Christ, he
was baptized in the name of the Lord
Jesus.
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 67
A short time after his baptism, and
only two days before his death, as I sat
alone with him all night, the following
conversation occurred, which was the
last held with him on the subject of his
eternal interests.
Awaking from a short, troubled sleep
about three o'clock A. M., he inquired
of me what I thought of his pulse.
I said, " It is strangely strong for one
so weak as you are."
He replied, " My pulse is strong all the
time while I am still, which convinces
me that there is sufficient vitality about
my heart for me yet to recover, if the
disease could be arrested or removed."
I rejoined, "Your pulse certainly is
very strong, and if the disease could be
removed, you might possibly recover, but
the disease has hitherto proved very
obstinate, and may still do so; but, my
68
INCIDENTS IN THE
dear young friend, the probabilities are
now against you, and, whether you live
or die, it is your wisdom to be prepared
to die; for he that is prepared to die in
peace is also prepared to live useful and
happy."
He replied with emphasis, " Yery true,
very true, and I have no wish to live,
only as my Heavenly Father wills. 0,
my Father, thy will be done."
After a few moments' silence, he said,
" Mr. M , I have no false love of life.
True, I wish to live, but not for myself,
for death must come sooner or later'; but
my dear mother has been long looking for¬
ward to the time when with me she might
have a home, where she might pass a quiet,
comfortable old age, and it is hard to have
this long-chef ished hope dashed to pieces so
suddenly. For her sake, sir, I wish to live;
butldo not murmur; Iwillnot complain."
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 69
I said, " My dear friend, your desire to
live is very laudable, while you do not
repine; you have for this desire a high'
and holy example: our blessed Saviour
said in the time of his agony, while
suffering for our sins, ' O, my Father, if
it be possible, let this cup pass from me;
nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou
wilt.'"
He replied, "Noble example !"
I continued, "The same God that took
care of your dear mother in infancy and
youth, and has been her friend and
guide in widowhood thus far, will still
care for her."
He replied, "I have no doubt of
that."
I then drew his attention back to him¬
self, by asking him if he could not now
trust God fully with his own case, whether
forTife or death.
70 INCIDENTS IN THE
He calmly and thoughtfully replied,
"I feel confident all will he right, that
my Heavenly Father, my Maker, will do
nothing wrong, and I can and do commit
all .to him, for I know he will do what is
best, hut I do not know whether I have
that trust in Christ that I should have as
a Christian, for I have been a great
sinner; I have tried to he an infidel, and
have even scoffed at religion. I say I
have tried to he an infidel, for I was reli¬
giously brought up, and never could get
clear of the conviction that the Christian
religion is true, and my difficulty now is
to believe how Jesus Christ can forgive
and save one who has been such a
sinner."
I answered, " My dear sir, as great a sin¬
ner as you have been, you have hot been
worse than the chief of sinners; and
' this is a faithful saying, and worthy of
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 71
all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came
into the world to save sinners, of
whom I am chiefand also, ' This
man receiveth sinners, and eateth with
them.'"
I also presented several other appro¬
priate scriptures, assuring him Christ was
pledged to save to the uttermost all that
come to him, and that he would never
send one empty away. Said I,
"Only put your trust in Jesus as your
own all-sufficient Saviour, and all will he
well."
He said, " I do trust in him! I do trust
in him!"
I found that he was becoming ex¬
hausted, so I said no more, but com-"
mitted him to that covenant - keeping
God, who, I humbly hope, graciously,
by his blessed influence, implanted this
72 INCIDENTS IN THE
trust in the heart of this timid, trem¬
bling believer, who in a few days after
this exchanged this world, we trust and
believe,, for a better.
LIFE OF A PASTOR.
73
INCIDENT SIXTH.
"Then Jesus beholding him loved him."—Mabk x. 21.
Tuesday, May 22, 1855.—Last night,
at eleven o'clock, John J. Hall, student
of Wofford College, died.
John was born and brought up in
Fairfield district, South Carolina. He
was entered at Wofford College as Fresh¬
man in January last, where he secured
the good will of all, both faculty and
students, with whom he was a general
favorite. He was in his nineteenth year,
tall, erect, well-proportioned, and very
handsome, his countenance serene and
placid—one of almost feminine sweet¬
ness. He was habitually sober-minded,
74 INCIDENTS IN THE
regular in his attendance at college,
always prepared with his recitations, uni¬
form and very attentive to public preach¬
ing.
Thursday, May 10th, our young friend
was attacked with typhoid dysentery,
which soon prostrated him.
Friday, 11th, he sent for me. I found
him so sick that I advised immediately
that his father be sent for, which was
done. I conversed with him about his
soul, and found him very penitent. I
prayed with him. This was at two
o'clock P. M. I saw him again at six
and at ten.
Saturday, 12th, I was with him from
three A. M. until six. I found him this
morning very sick, but perfectly clear in
his mind, and extremely anxious about
his soul. I saw him several times
through this day, and left him at eleven
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 75'
o'clock P. M. with some hope of salva¬
tion.
Sunday, 13th, I was with him at five
A. M., and found him still hoping, hut
with some doubt. I was with him fre¬
quently through the day, and left him at
eleven P. M. with hope, but not satisfied.
O how my soul was agonized for that
lovely young man, just lingering on the
confines of the eternal world, and yet
without a well-founded hope of heaven !
Monday, 14th, I was with him at four
A. M. O how near death appears ! At
seven this morning his father came.
Poor man! he has come to see his beloved
boy die! Through this day, I was with
him most of the time until ten, P. M.,
when I left him with brighter hopes of
heaven. His confidence increases. 0
Holy Ghost, come now, and take full
possession of his young heart! Son of
76 INCIDENTS IN THE
God, now reveal thyself in him! O that
he might now be saved!
Tuesday, 16th, at two A. ]\L, I was
called to his bedside, and found him
happy in God. The veil had been taken
away, all doubt was gone, and he was
strong in faith, giving glory to God. He
now, for the first time, could read his
title clear to a mansion in the skies.
Several of his friends were about him, to
whom he was declaring what the Lord
had done for his soul, and exhorting and
entreating them to put their trust in
Jesus and meet him in heaven, requiring
from each a promise to meet him there.
"When I took his hand, he looked up,
and, seeing me, said,
" O, Mr. M , you have come to see
me die; I will soon be gone; my days
are numbered; my moments are passing,
and my breath is shortening, but I am
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 77
going to Jesus. I thank you for all your
kindness to me; you led me to Jesus;
you put me in the track, and showed me
the way to heaven. O, I thank you, and
I want you to meet me in heaven."
I told him it was my purpose to get to
heaven, where I had no doubt I would
meet him. I reminded him of the hap¬
piness we shall realize when we meet
in heaven, where sickness and death are
unknown. He earnestly inquired,
" Shall we know our friends in hea¬
ven ?"
When I told him, "I believe we will,"
his soul seemed to catch new fire, and,
after once more exhorting all about him
to meet him in heaven, he again turned
to me, and said,
"Tell your family good-bye. Tell
them I thank them for their kindness to
me, and I hope to meet them in heaven."
78 incidents in the
I said to him, "My dear soh, shall we
pray with yon ?"
To which he replied, "Talk to me
-about Jesns, talk to me about Jesus."
He had all his fellow-students sent for,
and spoke to each about his happy con¬
dition, and charged each to trust in Jesus
and meet him in heaven, thanking tliem
each for their kindness to him, and beg¬
ging them to forgive every thing he had
either said or done to offend or hurt any
of them. He charged me, also, to say
good-bye to his kind president and profess¬
ors, to express his gratitude to them for
their kindness to him, and beg them to
forgive any trouble he had given them.
To his weeping father he said,
"Father, I want you to take my body
home, and lay it beside my grandfather."
He then calmly gave to his father a
farewell message for his mother, his
LIFE OF A PASTOE. 79
sister, and his brothers, earnestly en¬
treating each one to trust in Jesus and
meet him in heaven. "He then took hold
of his father's hand, and in the most
affectionate manner said,
My dear father, you have been a dear,
kind father to me, hut I must now leave
you: meet me in heaven. O, dear father,
trust in Jesus, and meet me in heaven.
"Will you, father ? Will you meet me in
heaven ?"
The father having satisfied him by an¬
swering in the affirmative, he turned to
others, who were still pressing in, and
repeated the same request again and
again, that they would all meet him in
heaven.
To the family with whom he hoarded
he had a kind word and an affectionate
farewell for each, thanking them for
their unwearied attentions to him, and
80 INCIDENTS IN T-HE
begging them to forgive any trouble he
had given them. To Mrs. A he
said,
"You have been a second mother to
me; may God bless you! Meet me in
heaven."
His physician entering, he expressed
his gratitude to him, with the same
charge.
I called his attention to an old colored
man standing near, who had waited on
him in his sickness. Taking his hand,
he said,
"Good-bye, Moses; I thank you for
your kindness to me. You will soon
have no more trouble with me. Trust
in Jesus, and meet me in heaven."
The professors came in, one after an¬
other, to each of whom he delivered in
person the message he had given me for
them.
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 81
Becoming very much exhausted, and
supposing his end at hand, he fixed his
eyes on his weeping father, who was
bending over him, and said,
"Father, dear father, let me go.
Father, give me up; can't you give me
up?*I am going to heaven. O, I am so
happy!"
"When his father assented to try to
give him up, he again expressed great
happiness. When it was said by one,
" Heaven is near, and angels are waiting
to receive you," he replied, "Yes, I
think I see cousin ," who had died
very happy but a few days before.
Some time later in the morniog, his
father said,
" My son, are you willing to die ?"
He said, " O yes, father, I am not only
willing, I prefer to die now; I want to
go to heaven."
82 INCIDENTS IN THE
In this state of mind he continued
throughout the day, and from that time
on he was ever calm and peaceful, never
expressing a doubt -or fear, hut patiently
waiting until his change came.
Saturday, 19th, when I inquired how
he felt, he calmly answered,
"I am just lying here waiting the will
of God."
In the afternoon of the same day a
lady friend spoke to him about his pros¬
pects for heaven. He assured her he had
no doubts about his salvation. He then
said,
"Farewell, Mrs. M , I shall see you
no more. I feel like I was parting with
a mother. Meet me in heaven."
He then feebly hut joyously uttered
the words*"Glory, glory, glory!"
Sunday, 20th, when I said to him,
"Dear J , we had expected that
LIFE OF A PA ST OH. 83
you would spend this Sabbath in a better
world," he replied firmly,
"I hoped so; but the will of the Lord
be done."
Seeing his father rubbing his feet, he
sweetly said,
"Father, let me go; I do not wish to
live; I would rather die now, and go to
Jesus."
Monday, 21st, he was greatly pros¬
trated, and said very little, but remained
conscious until about eleven o'clock P.
M., when, without the slightest struggle,
he fell asleep in Jesus, to await the resur¬
rection of the just.
84
incidents in the
INCIDENT SEVENTH.
"Thus saith the Lord, Set thine house in order; for
thou shalt die, and not live."—2 Kings xx. 1.
Mrs. H , a pious member of my
charge, died in April, blessed with a
comfortable and, I think, a well-founded
hope of eternal life. She left five
children, three daughters and two sons.
E. J. H , eldest son of Mrs. H ,
a young man of liberal education, had
been trained to the profession of the law
by his father, (who was himself an emi¬
nent lawyer;) he is now editor of the
Spartanburg Express. He is a young
man of considerable talent, a beautiful
writer; but alas! alas! he, as many
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 85
others have done and are doing, has
neglected the one thing needful: he has
neglected that furniture of the soul that
alone can avail a dying man—and he, I
fear, is dying, or soon must die. He is
of a very sensitive disposition, indisposed
to make known the workings of his
mind to any one; indeed, he concealed
from his own family the fatal malady
that was rankling in his breast, and
drinking up his life's blood, until he was
so much prostrated that concealment was
no longer possible. He is dying with
dropsy of the heart. From his peculiar
disposition, his friends feared to say any
thing to him about his danger. In secret
they prayed for him; and who can tell
the power of secret prayer, fervently
offered up through faith in Jesus? But
none dared to make known his case to
himself.
86 INCIDENTS I~N THE
I had heard through a friend of his
how rapidly he was sinking, hut had no
intimation that he desired, or that he
would even permit, me to see him. My
heart was greatly troubled on his behalf:
he must not die thus; his soul is immor¬
tal; Jesus died that he might live; I
must make an effort, at least, to save
him.
Monday, 21st May, I had spent a toil¬
some and exciting day. I had been with
a family in deep affliction from a peculiar
and painful reverse of fortune: from
affluence, suddenly reduced to poverty
and wretchedness. I had just witnessed
the closing scene of the earthly life of a
lovely young man, and was making my
way home with weary steps and a sad
heart near midnight, when I met a young
man in the street, who, as he passed, said
to me,
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 87
" How is J ?"
•
I replied, "He is just now dead."
"Well," said he, "I fear J. H will
not live through the night."
Lifting my heart in humble prayer to
God, I directed my steps to his room. I
found him sitting on a sofa, his head
resting on a pillow laid across the back
of a chair, panting for life. I knew in
his circumstances the slightest agitation
must prove fatal to him. O God, how
can I approach him? was the earnest
ejaculation of my heart. He must die,
but he is not aware of his danger; he is
opposed to any conversation on the sub¬
ject of religion. I inquired how he was.
He Teplied that he was too -^eak to con¬
verse. I said,
" I do not wish to fatigue you, nor do
I wish you to speak at all if you do not
feel so inclined. My purpose in visiting
88 INCIDENTS IN THE
you is, with your permission, to talk
with you on the subject of your salva¬
tion."
To which he replied, "Just as you
cfioose, sir."
Finding him very restless, and also
indisposed to converse, or, as I thought,
even to hear, I said but little; but, after
sitting with him until near one o'clock
A. M., I took his hand and bade him
good-night, expressing a hope to see him
shortly, when he would be better able to
converse. He gently pressed my hand,
but made no reply. I felt sadly discour¬
aged. I lay down to rest, but could
sleep but little; my soul was distressed.
Must this dear young man perish? 0
Lord, come to our help !
May 22d, I went to see him at ten P.
M. When he was told that I was in the
house, I overheard him pleading weak-
LIFE OF A PASTOR.
89
ness and fatigue as reasons for not seeing
me. Mr. F , his brother-in-law, how¬
ever, urged him until he consented.
With what a hesitating, fearing, doubting
heart I approached him! He received
me respectfully. I said to him,
"Feeling, as I do, an interest in you,
and sympathizing with you in your sick¬
ness, I would like to visit you as a friend,
were this needed; hut you know, sir,
that my great business in visiting the
afflicted is to direct their minds to the
one only true and • unfailing source of
comfort; to that source I would like to
direct your mind."
He said, "I am very weak, and so
much fatigued that I cannot think on any
subject."
"Very well," said I, "just permit me
to talk at present; you need not speak,
unless you find that I am fatiguing you,
90 INCIDENTS IN THE
or injuring you; tlien you have only to
intimate it, and I will cease."
He replied, "Very well, if you do not
speak too loud nor too long."
I promised to do the best I could, again
telling him to check me if he found it
necessary.
I then, in the most cautious manner I
could, proceeded to point out to him the
necessity of religion, the comfort it
would give him in this time of affliction,
how it would tit him for the duties and
responsibilities of life, giving him a set¬
tled principle, a fixed object in life, and
placing him upon a foundation where he
might not be surprised or frightened by
the approach of death, no matter how or
when it might come. I then ventured to
propose prayer. He said he would not
object, if he could get into a position
that he might rest long enough to listen
LIFE- OF A PASTOR. 91
to it. I prayed with him, after which he
appeared soothed and softened.
I again spoke to him about his soul.
He pleaded weakness; he could not
make an effort; he must not be excited—
it would prove fatal to him; he cfould not
feel; with other similar excuses, as, his
nerves were weak, etc.
I said, " My dear friend, will you stop
and answer me one or two questions?
Don't you feel the necessity of reli¬
gion ?"
He answered rather faintly, "I think
I do."
" Don't you desire religion ?"
"Yes; but I am so much pained and
wearied that I cannot fix my mind on
any thing."
I replied, "'Hot by might nor by
power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord
of hosts.' If salvation depended upon
92 INCIDENTS IN THE
any merit of yours, any strength or
goodness of yours, then might you de¬
spair ; but God teaches you that salvation
is the free gift of God, not of works, but
by simple faith. Jesus said, ' Go ye into
all the world, and preach the gospel to
every creature; he that believeth and is
baptized shall be saved.' For an illus¬
tration, I will point you to the awakened
jailer at Philippi; he inquired, just as I
trust you are beginning to inquire, ' What
must I do to be saved V And the answer
was, 'Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ,
and thou shalt be saved.' No work, no
labor, no merit—simply believe."
"Ah," said he, "I see I was in error;
I feared that you would make so much
ado that my nerves would become ex¬
cited. I have heard so much of that sort
of exciting preaching, which I knew my
nerves could not bear—it would kill me;
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 93
but I am not afraid now. But don't
misunderstand me; on tbe other hand, I
hate that cold, calculating, unfeeling
preaching, of which I have often heard
too much."
I smiled and replied, " My dear sir, I
have nothing to do with your nerves;
religion has nothing to do with your
nerves; religion is a reasonable thing;
it does not consist either in wild ranting
or in cold reasoning; neither the one
nor the other is or can be necessary to
religion; religion is a thing of the heart.
God says, My son, give me thine heart;
and, as far as feeling is concerned, one
of our poets has properly said, 'All the
fitness he requiretb is to feel your need
of him;' and our blessed Saviour says,
£ Blessed are they which do hunger and
thirst after righteousness, for they shall
be filled.' How simple the whole pro-
94 INCIDENTS IN THE
cess, when we look at it in the light of
Divine truth! Take hold of these blessed
words, ' God so loved the world, that he
gave his only-begotten Son, that whoso¬
ever believeth in him should not perish,
but have everlasting life.' Think, also,
of that text in Romans: ' He that spared
not his own Son, but delivered him up
for us all, how shall he not with him
also freely give us all things ?' "
After some further conversation, cau¬
tiously and gently leading him to the
Saviour, and urging him to come to
Christ just as he was, cold and hard as his
heart might feel, and pointing out, to
some extent, the immediate necessity of
attending to this all-important matter,
and thereby gradually bringing him to
realize his imminent danger, I left
him about eleven o'clock, saying to
him,
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 95
" If you wish to see me at any time,
please send for me."
He affectionately pressed my hand,
saying,
"You will come anyhow, will you
not ?"
This gave me some encouragement,
some hope.
The 23d, at four P. M., he sent for me.
This we all looked upon as favorable. I
hastened to him, and found him suffering
greatly, but now anxious about his soul,
and desiring to hear the words of eternal
life. I requested his pious sisters, with
a female friend present, to retire to an¬
other room, and pray in secret, while I
conversed with the sufferer. ' I spent
some time in trying to remove his diffi¬
culties in the way of coming to Christ,
and pointing him to the sinner's Friend.
I found now that the enemy of all good
96 INCIDENTS IN THE
was making a desperate effort to drive
him to despair. The argument now was :
I gave all the prime and vigor of my life
to pleasure, forgetting God, not caring
for God; and now that I am dying, and
have nothing left hut this poor, misera¬
ble -wreck, both body and mind wasted,
now that there is nothing left for me in
this world hut suffering and death, T
cannot hope that God will accept this
mere remnant of a life spent in wicked¬
ness and folly.
After he had gone through this state¬
ment of doubt and fear, believing him
now truly penitent, I told him this was
the last resort of his foiled foe ; that, dis¬
guise this as we may, it is the natural
result of pride; that it was common in
a sick-bed repentance, and hence the
great danger of postponing repentance
for an hour like this.
LIFE OF A PASTOR.
97
I sj^ent some time in solemn, silent
prayer, and then said to him,
" I find not one case in the Bible of a
\
penitent sinner being turned away from
the Son of God; that even the poor,
dying thief on the cross,- whose life's
blood was pouring fi;om his veins, who
could but say, 'Lord, remember me when
thou comest into thy kingdom,' even he
was saved in a moment; and surely, my
young friend, Christ is not going to begin
with you, making you an exception."
After a few moments' silence, I pro¬
posed prayer, tp which he assented. His
sisters now came in, and we all kneeled
and prayed together for him. He ap¬
peared to be very much affected.
Bising from my knees, I left them all
still prostrate before God, and went into
the parlor, and, shutting myself up there,
I pleaded with God, my Heavenly Father,
4
98 INCIDENTS IN THE
for the soul of that beloved young man,
for I felt that we were brought to a crisis,
a point where God was saying to us, "If
thou canst believe, all things are possible
to -him that believeth." My faith was
greatly strengthened, and I believed from
that moment that he would be saved. I
returned to his room, repeating those
beautiful lines,
" There is a fountain filled with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel's veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.
The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day,
And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away."
He seemed to have received some com¬
fort ; but O, how faint, how dark! How
doubtful he feels ! I left him.
At ten P. M. I was with him again,
and spent an hour in conversation and
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 99
prayer. Poor fellow! he is very penitent,
but now feels his heart to be vejy hard
and dark. 0 Lord, help him: all our
hope is in thee.
24th, I was with him two hours in the
afternoon, and one late at night. I felt
greatly embarrassed; I knew, not what to
do; he was so weak, I feared to propose
prayer; he appeared to be sinking very
fast; every thing depended on keeping
him quiet. After conversing with him,
encouraging him to look to Jesus, and
put his trust in him, as his only and his
all-sufficient Saviour, I intimated to his
sister that I would 'leave until morning,
as he was so much exhausted. With a
flood of tears, she said,
"I fear that will be too late; I think
he is sinking fast; I fear he will not see
morning."
"Then," said I, "we must make an-
100 INCIDENTS IN THE
other effort. We must try to do some¬
thing ff»r him; his sonl is dearer than
every thing else."
I approached, and, speaking of Jesus
and the atonement made^for sinners, I
earnestly pointed him to the Lamb of
God. I then called all the family to¬
gether, and we kneeled around him for
near ten minutes, in solemn prayer, when,
noticing that he was very much engaged
in prayer, I said to him,
"Do you now love the Lord Jesus
Christ ? Do you now trust in him ? Do
you not now believe on him ?"
He fervently exclaimed, "I do love! I
do love!"
I replied, "He that dwelleth in love
dwelleth in God, for God is love."
He then threw up his hands and said
with great earnestness,
" O that I could now burst these bonds
LIFE OF/A PASTOR. 101
and fly away!" with, many other words
of a similar kind, expressive of his faith
and hope.
25th, I saw him at four P. M., and said
to him,
" Do you still feel that you love and
trust the Saviour?"
He answered, "I find the light increas¬
ing, my faith growing stronger and
stronger."
After some conversation, I prayed with
him and left him.
That night I was with him again until
near two o'clock A. M., during which
time I witnessed a scene that I have no
language to describe.
At the close of prayer, during which
he held my hand in his with a firm grasp,
he reached out his other hand and drew
his eldest sister to him, and, putting his
102 INCIDENTS IN THE
arm around her neck, kissed her, and
whispered,
" I am so happy, happy, happy! Sweet
Jesus! Sweet Jesus ! Precious Jesus!
He has come ! He has come !"
His second sister approached his couch,
and, taking her in the same way, he kissed
her, saying again and again,
"I am happy! I am happy!"
Then taking his little brother, Patrick,
in his arms, he said,
"My dear little Patty! My sweet
little Patty! My precious little bro¬
ther !"
He then gave him several words of
advice and exhortation which I could not
hear.
His youngest sister now came to him,
and, taking her in his arms and kissing
her, he said,
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 103
"My darling Free, rny dear sister, I
am so happy! God has blessed me.
He has pardoned my sins; I know he
has."
I retired a little while into another
room, that he might speak freely with his
family. "When I returned to him, he
took me by the hand, fixed his eyes upon
me, and lay perfectly still for some min¬
utes. I then said,
" Though I walk through the valley of
the shadow of death, I will fear no evil;
for thou art with me."
He answered, "I certainly never can
fear again, for He is with me! Hp is
with me ! O, I shall not fear!"
After some time, I suggested to him
the propriety .of connecting himself with
the Church. He said he would think
about it.
104 INCIDENTS IN THE
Commending him to God, I left him
for the night.
26th, ten A. M., I found him more
comfortable in body, and very calm and
peaceful in mind. I suggested to him
the importance of confessing Christ by
an open profession of religion; and in
the course of our conversation, he ex¬
pressed a wish to become a member of
the Church, that he might not only
derive personal support and comfort, but
that he might thereby show to the world
his belief in the necessity of Church
membership, hoping, also, that he might
in this way do some good by influencing
others.
The family were called together, and,
after praying together, I received him
formally into the visible Church of Christ.
He appeared to be very happy in pros-
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 105
pect of getting to heaven. I repeated to
him that beautiful hymn, beginning,
" There is a land of pure delight," paus¬
ing and repeating,
"Death, like a narrow sea, divides
This heavenly land from ours."
I remarked, Heaven is not far off;
death is but a narrow sea."
He replied, "0, if I could only slip
over now, and take some humble place
among the blessed, I would ask no
more."
I suggested that he should receive the
Lord's supper with his family before he
should be taken from "them, believing
that it would be a comfort to them, as
well as a means of confirming his own
faith, as he would therein be able to dis¬
cern the Lord's body more clearly than
in any other way. He wished to. think
106 INCIDENTS IN THE
of it; so, after a few words about the
nature and design of the ordinance, I
left him.
At nine P. M. of the same day, I found
him, with his three sisters, his two bro¬
thers-in-law, and two friends of the fam¬
ily, waiting to receive the holy com¬
munion, which I administered to them
in the stillness of that solemn Saturday
night hour. The whole scene was sol¬
emn. The suffering invalid was very
much affected, and became quite happy.
After some encouraging conversation, I
left about midnight.
Sunday, 27th, at ten P. M., I saw and
prayed with him; he was too feeble for
any thing more. As I left, he requested
me to select some religious reading, that
his sister might read to him, as he might
be able to hear.
.Monday, 28th, at ten A. M., I was with
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 107
him, and gave him hooks. He is calm,
peaceful, hopeful. O what hath God
wrought for this young man! To his
great and glorious name he all the
praise! Amen. I saw him again at
night.
29th, at ten P. M., I prayed with him.
He is now comparatively easy; but I
think his malady is still progressing.
31st, prayed with him at five P. M.
I think he will not hold out many days
longer. He is quietly trusting in God,
and hoping for eternal life.
July 19th. Contrary to all human
calculation, our beloved brother H
reVived, and became so much improved
as to inspire some hope among his friends
that he might partially recover.
Through the month of June, he was
able frequently to ride out, and sometimes
to walk across the street. Early in July
108
INCIDENTS IN THE
he thought he would go North, and made
arrangements to do so, hut on Saturday,
the 7th, in the afternoon, while engaged
in pleasant conversation with his sister,
he fell down, and instantly expired.
Sunday, 8th, we committed his body to
the tomb, to await the resurrection morn¬
ing, when we hope to see him come forth
in the glorious image of the Son of God;
for we believe he sleeps in Jesus, and
those who sleep in Jesus will he bring
with him at his coming.
LIFE OF A PASTOR.
109
INCIDENT EIGHTH.
" But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy."—Gal. v. 22.
There was scarcely-a "better man, more
sincere Christian, or one more attached
to the Church of which he was a mem¬
ber, than Brother M ; but he was
constitutionally subject to occasional de¬
pression of spirits, and he was some¬
times anxious and mistrustful, espe¬
cially when any perplexing difficulty
would occur in his affairs which he
had not foreseen, nor could' satisfactorily
see his way through. From diligence in
business, he had become rich, too, and
his riches had increased his cares.
One night, at stewards' meeting, Bro-
110
INCIDENTS IN'THE
ther M entered the room, not with
his usual elastic step and lighted brow;
but he came in slowly, hesitatingly, and
took his seat with a troubled look and
rueful countenance. Wot long was it
before he tried to cast off the burden of
his mind to his brethren and pastor in
this wise:
"Brethren, I feel that I must resign
my steward's and my leader's office. My
business has enlarged so as to engage too
much of my thoughts. Men have got in
debt to me whom I will be obliged to
sue, which will cause, I fear, even any
good that may be in me to be evil spoken
of, and thereby bring a reproach upon
the Church and upon you all. Yes, I
have come to the conclusion I must re¬
sign."
"A pretty story," said a brother stew¬
ard. "You have gone and got yourself
LIFE OF A PASTOR. Ill
so rich as to have so many people owing
you that you must quit being useful to
the Church!"
""Well," said his pastor, "in regard to
your stewardship, we did not make you
here, and we cannot unmake you. Think
over it, pray over" it till next quarterly
meeting, and if you are in the same
mind then, ask and obtain your release.
In regard to your leadership, truly I have
the authority to release 37ou, but I shall
not do so until you have thought and
prayed over it a good deal more than you
have."
Brother M came to his place as a
teacher in the Sunday-school as usual the
next Sabbath morning, but with his head
bowed down as a bulrush. In the church
all day it was the same, till at the candle¬
light service he seemed quite lighted up,
and evidently felt, was touched, softened,
112 INCIDENTS IN THE
animated by tbe ministrations of the
hour.
The next day, one of the first persons
his pastor met was Brother M , bright
and early; he looked as the morning.
Ah, a happy change has come over the
spirit of Brother M 's dream, surely,
thought the minister. It was indeed so.
"Ah," said he to his pastor, " it has all
gone: that dark cloud, that temptation
to give up my offices in the Church.
Thank God ! I am determined to do any
thing his Church assigns me, so long as I
have health and strength to do it. The
thick cloud that was on my mind the
light of God's countenance has removed.
He has blessed me greatly. What do
you think, sir? My black boy, 'Lias—
one, sir, that I raised from a child—was
powerfully awakened under the sermon
last night, and I think is in a fair way to
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 113
get the blessing of his sins forgiven before
long."
Not long was it before brother M
came almost in a run to the house of his
minister, his face radiant with joy:
"I must tell you the good news, sir:
'Lias has found the blessing; as happy
as a king, he is, sir. This morning he
told me, after putting things to rights in
the store, as usual, he went to sit down
on his work-bench, but, instead of sitting,
he found himself kneeling by it, and
praying God to forgive his sins, and soon
all the bad feeling went clean away, and
he felt his heart all light as a feather,
for he knew that God, for Christ's sake,
had pardoned all his sins.
"'0 Mas Davy,' said he, 'I love you
more than I ever did! I feel so rich,
Massa: as rich as if I had two thousand
dollars in my pocket!' "
114
INCIDENTS IN THE
Brother M , I am sure, couldn't
have looked happier if he had two mil¬
lions in his.
His pastor never after heard a word
about his giving up his offices of useful¬
ness in the Church of Christ.
LIFE OF A PASTOR.
115
INCIDENT NINTH.
"My sony. give me thine heart."—Pbov. xxiii. 26.
"William B n was born at W ,
S. C., in the year 1831. His parents both
being pious, God-fearing people, be was
at an early day solemnly dedicated to
God in boly baptism. From infancy, be
was taugbt, botb by precept and exam¬
ple, to pray, to know, love, and keep
tbe commandments of God. He revered
tbe boly Sabbatb, and was from xearly
life fond of tbe bouse and worship of
God. His father's bouse was for many
years a favorite stopping-place for tbe
itinerant ministers. William, therefore,
116 INCIDENTS IN THE
early learned to love and respect those
men of God; and, having so many reli¬
gious advantages, it was not wonderful
that he grew up an exceedingly moral
young man. It is thought by those who
knew him best that he never uttered a
profane word in his life. He kept the
fifth commandment rigidly.
"While William was yet very young,
his pious father was taken from him by
death, and he was left to the single care
of his devout, praying mother, who,
sensible of her own weakness and incom¬
petence to the mighty task, went humbly
with her son, and all her children, to the
Father of the fatherless and the Friend
of the widow, and, in the strength and
wisdom graciously supplied by him, she
brought up her children in his fear; but
she could not give them new hearts, nor
change their nature.
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 117
When William arrived at a suitable
age, he entered upon the study of medi¬
cine with his uncle, a highly respectable
physician, with a large practice, with the
understanding that as soon as he gradu¬
ated, he was to become his uncle's part¬
ner. He was universally esteemed and
beloved for his amiable qualities and the
marks of genius he displayed. He had
read medicine about two years, and was
preparing to spend the winter in Charles¬
ton, attending medical lectures. But
alas! up to this time his goodness was
all formal. He knew nothing of the
power of converting grace.
I knew and loved his pious father; I
had long known his excellent mother;
she had often requested me, with tears in
her eyes, to pray for her dear boy—her
first-born. I had known him as a boy
of extraordinary moral worth, observed
118 INCIDENTS IN THE
him always at his place in the house of
God. I felt a deep interest in him, and
often wondered why he did not make a
profession of religion.
In 1852 I met him at a camp-meeting,
and yielded to^a strong impression upon
my mind—made, I have no doubt, by
the Spirit of God—and took "William a
long walk into the woods, and entered
into a free conversation with him about
his soul. I spoke freely to him about
the strange position he occupied: born
and brought up in the midst of religious
influences; his pious father, who had so
often and so fervently prayed for him,
then a sainted spirit in heaven; nearly all
his relations pious; his mother, his sis¬
ters, and one younger brother, all on the
way to join his father in a better world;
while he, whose whole life had been in
other respects so exemplary, remained
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 119
so strangely indifferent to the salvation
of his soul.
He frankly confessed he had no reason
to offer for not being religious, while he
had a thousand reasons why he should
he; but that, strange as it might appear,
he had never taken sufficient interest in
the subject to make it a personal matter;
for, although he had heard all these
things from the pulpit hundreds of
times, yet he had ever supposed they
concOrned other people—not himself.
He had done no harm; he kept the
commandments; he had tried to do his
duty to his mother and all others.
I urged upon him the importance of
giving his heart to God, pressing upon
him the solemn declaration, " Except ye
be converted, and become as little chil¬
dren, he shall not enter into the kingdom
of heaven."
120 INCIDENTS IN THE
Here our walk terminated. He thanked
me for the interest I had manifested in
him. I looked on him, and loved him;
he was, indeed, a lovely character.
The meeting wore on; the last day
had come and was gone; the shades of
the last night had come down upon that
encampment; our camp-fires were light¬
ed ; we were summoned to the stand to
hear the last sermon of the occasion.
There was William, seated where I had
seen him sit hour after hour under the
most solemn sermons; the same calm
quiet sat upon his countenance.^ The
sermon passed, and several persons joined
the Church. Mourners were then invited
to the altar for prayer, and a goodly
number came forward, weeping and
crying for mercy; but William still re¬
mained at his seat, apparently unmoved.
After one or two prayers had been
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 121
offered, I told the congregation that, late
as the hour was, my heart would not
consent to leave that place without at
least one more effort for the salvation of
a young man in the congregation for
whom I felt a strange, an oppressive
going forth of soul. After a few words
of exhortation, persons were again in¬
vited to join the Church, and several
young men came forward; among them,
William approached, trembling, and gave
me his hand, and immediately fell on his
knees, and there remained in earnest,
fervent prayer for some thirty minutes,
when he arose, calling for his godly
mother, and told her that God had gra¬
ciously, for Christ's sake, pardoned all
his sins, and given him a new heart.
So clear was his conversion that he never
doubted its genuineness, hut from that
moment he appeared to grow in grace,
122 INCIDENTS IN. THE
and to ripen for that heavenly inherit¬
ance upon which he was so soon to enter.
This was William's last night at a camp-
meeting; he never was at another. How
mysterious are the ways of God!
A few weeks past, and William, ac¬
cording to his previous plans, left his
mother's house to attend the medical
lectures at Charleston. He, however,
was gone hut a few days, when he re¬
turned to his widowed mother, weak and
pale, blighted and withering under dis¬
ease. I happened to be at his mother's
house when he arrived. I marked the
change that had come over him in these
few days, and feared for the worst. I
saw the deep anxiety depicted on the
countenance of that mother as she looked
on the pale face and sunken eye of her
first-born son, whom death had even now
marked as his victim. I essayed to com-
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 123
fort the mother. The son was full of
comfort; as he said, death had no terrors
for him. •
I left that weeping, fearing mother and
that confiding, drooping son. He lay,
patiently suffering, eight days, and then
calmly passed away, to be with Jesus for
ever in glory, for "He had this testimony,
that he pleased God." Much of his time
had been spent in trying to comfort his
distressed mother; and finally he passed
away, assuring her that he would soon be
with his sainted father and his blessed
Saviour.
On Monday, December, 1852, passing
from Chester to Winnsboro', I met on
the cars the mother and friends of this
lovely young man, conveying his remains
to their last resting-place at "W , where,
in the quiet and stillness of the twilight
hour, just as the stars began to appear,
124 INCIDENTS IN THE
his body was laid beside that of his father,
there, under the shadow of the walls of
that sacred church, to rest in hope, and
wait all his appointed time, till his change
come, when, I have no doubt, he will
come forth to the resurrection of the
just.
life op a pastor.
125
INCIDENT TENTH.
by the pastor's wife.
"Go and sin no more."—John yiii. 11.
"While there is a great deal of right
and proper feeling against a certain
class of sinners, and while an innate
sense of propriety and true delicacy of
sentiment have prescribed a line of
demarcation between society and one
who has ever—no matter by what force
of circumstances or temptation—over¬
stepped the modesty of her sex, and
broken God's holy commandment in
respect to chastity, yet is there most
generally a bitterness and harshness
126 INCIDENTS IN THE
manifested toward one of these, though
a returning prodigal, and bj those, too,
whose creed is forgiveness, through
Christ, for the vilest, and whose hearts
are assumed, peculiarly, as from their
sex, to be most made up of melting
charity; which severity we must deem less
serviceable to the cause of good morals
than injurious to the higher law of Chris¬
tian charity, and exercised, we fear, too
often less to advance the cause of truth
and righteousness than to gratify the
spleen of temper or minister to the pride
of superior virtue. Were we sharply to
reprove a sister sinner of ill-temper, or
pride, or covetousness, or uncharitable-
ness, she might see cause to retort upon
as, "They who live in glass houses," etc.
Rut here, in regard to the particular sin
above alluded to, having, of course,
nothing against us, her mouth will he
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 127
shut; but how the example of our Saviour
in a similar instance exactly meets this
case, as when he said, "Whosoever is
without sin among you, (not this par¬
ticular sin only, but without sin,) let him
first cast a stone at her." And they,
being convicted, went out one by one,
till the woman was left alone with Jesus,
who said unto her, "Go, and sin no
more." What soothing, what strength,
were contained in those words of Divine
mercy! Had he, too, joined the rude
clamor of the crowd against her, the
poor, degraded one, how had her heart
died within her, palsied to every new¬
born impulse of right, or incrusted over
with the hard rind of despair, impervious
ever after to the slightest impression of
virtue or religion! But when they all
turned their backs upon her, Jesus still
remained; and let this be the consola-
128
INCIDENTS IN THE
tion and encouragement of such peni¬
tents, that when they have, by their great
and heinous transgression, set the world
against them, that, in its ruthless indigna¬
tion, would condemn them to ignominy,
shame, and death, they yet may have the
long-suffering, forbearing, forgiving Jesus
to remain their friend, and with his own
voice of mercy to say to them, " Go, and
sin no more."
Yes, poor, desolate, degraded one,
when inexorable society casts you off,
and you have justly forfeited every claim
to its respect and consideration, despair
not even then, nor he tempted to think
there can be no possible good in you,
and henceforth good you can neither do
nor get, and that you had far better he
out of a world whose ban is upon you,
and whose proverb and byword you are.
No ! You can still arise and go to your
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 12§
compassionate and gracious Lord, throw
yourself at his feet, wash them with your
tears, and wipe them with the hairs of
your head, kneel and weep, love much,
and he forgiven.
"Whilst it is only reasonable and con¬
sistent that a woman offending in this
wise should calculate, as a matter of
course, upon being thrown without the
pale of society, so called; that she should
at once and for ever bid adieu—and with
no hard feelings to any—to the thought
of taking what is called her position in
the community—for this, by her great and
peculiar offence, has she grievously and
entirely forfeited—yet is it but the more
incumbent on her that, by humility, pen¬
itence, faith, and good works, she seek
for succor and support from Him alone
who hath said, "Come unto me, all ye
that labor and are heavy laden, and I
5
130 INCIDENTS IN THE
will give you rest." For the most kindly
disposed and charitable ones of the earth
must he, to a great extent, trammelled
and embarrassed in their ministrations
of mercy toward those to whom the
strict prejudices of mankind would as¬
cribe a moral contamination. But, "Who
saves his life shall lose it." For the
cause of Christian charity, for Christ's
sake, we should fear not to rjsk life, or
even what is more—character. Who for
the world's dread sneer Or suspicion shuts
his far to the slightest sigh of penitence,
from the most abandoned, consults worldly
prudence and cowardly selfishness more
than the blessed Saviour's plain precept
and example. It is well for us always so
to conduct ourselves for prudence, mod¬
esty, and uprightness, that our character
and standing be so established that we shall
not be nervously solicitous about their
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 131
suffering injury when engaged about
what, with all the light of humanity,
reason, and revelation upon it, we fully
believe to be duty, even when that duty
is found in a strait, or rugged, or hedged-
up path.
" Caesar's wife must not be suspected
even." So shall not any truly virtuous,
chaste, and modest woman, even when
she is beheld reaching out an unshrink¬
ing hand to the rescue of a poor trem¬
bling, despairing, fallen sister from the
deep slough of her degradation and
wretchedness.
This much has been premised by way
of introduction to one of those incidents
of real life that occur but seldom in the
experience of any one. Too many cases
of this kind might lead to presumption—
none at all ever having been recorded
might tend to discouragement. One case
132 INCIDENTS IN THE
of this sort is in the experience of the
writer of this, no doubt, allowed in order
to serve to break down in herself iron-
bound prejudice and dissolve icy heart-
lessness toward this class of unfortunate
sinners, and thereby to incite to new
effort and to more fervent prayer in their
behalf, that Christ, the Friend of the
friendless and Saviour of the chief of
sinners, might have mercy upon them,
and save even such as they.
There had been an unusual excitement
concerning religious things in the church
of . Many penitents crowded around
the altar for prayer. Most of them, it
was remarked, were of the poor of this
world; some, undeservedly, like their
Divine Master, of the despised and re¬
jected of men; some, deservedly, by
their own outbreaking sins against so¬
ciety, its outcasts. But when these
LIFE OP A PASTOB. IBB
would turn from their wickedness and
live, the Saviour of sinners will not then
reject them, neither can his Church on
earth.
Of this latter class, as a weeping peni¬
tent, was a young female, notorious to
many since her childhood as one having
been brought up in the lap of iniquity,
and actually by her wicked parent, and
that parent a mother, sold to reap the
wages of sin. As usual, many said,
""What pity such as these are suffered
to go forward to the altar, and thus bring
a reproach upon these solemn religious
exercises altogether. These characters
thus injure our Chyirch, and cause our
good to be evil spoken of; and, then,
who could bear to kneel by the side of
such, or have their daughter, wife, or
sister seen near them ?" But all this is
134 INCIDENTS IN' THE
wrong; for, scripturally considered, this
is but the Church's true glory, that the
vilest of the vile may be allowed to
approach her altar, and, cast off by the
world, may lay hold of the very horns of
it, pleading the precious promise, "Him
that cometh unto me, I will in no wise
cast out." Nor where the grace of God
can visit need we fear contamination.
"The altar sanctifieth the gift."
One was at that altar, sin-stricken,
guilty, penitent, for whom her gracious
Lord even there pronounced forgiveness,
and whose trembling, grateful heart drank
in these gracious words of mercy:
"Daughter, thy sins, which were many,
are all forgiven thee." God sees not as
man seeth. None but Omniscience could
know all the darkness, disabilities, tempta¬
tions to which that poor erring one had
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 135
been exposed, and none bat He bad
witnessed her groanings, gropings, striv¬
ings, stragglings after the right.
"There is a message come to yon,"
said my husband to me; " how will you
answer it? You, as the wife of the
Methodist minister, are .earnestly re¬
quested to go and see that wretched
young woman who we understood was
at the altar for prayer a week or two ago.
The message is, 'It is believed she is
dying,' and she requests that, for Christ's
sake, you would come to her."
" Surely, I will go," said I, "and will
ask my pious neighbor, Mrs. , to
accompany me. The poor, erring one
will perhaps unburden her mind more
freely to those of her own sex alone than
if even you, the minister, were with us.
This is one of the times in which I feel
God enables me to be your help-meet."
136 INCIDENTS- IN THE
My good neighbor and I, both of us, I
must confess, set out with rather falter¬
ing if not reluctant steps on this un¬
pleasantly anticipated visit of duty—of
what would to most people, I fear, have
been very questionable duty.
We proceeded to a mean house in a
disreputable part of-the purlieus of the
city, and, entering a low door, beheld the
object of our visit, wan and attenuated,
on a low, coarse pallet. As she observed
our entrance, a deep flush suffused itself
over her face, neck, and shoulders. She
had not ceased to blush; then there was
indeed hope. Her cheek was resting on
an open Bible. Ah, the grounds for
hope were still greater! Blessed Bible !
how thou dost penetrate the fastnesses
of crime, seek out the deepest sinks of
iniquity! "Thou dost not dread pollu¬
tion ; the most noxious atmosphere of
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 137
the deadliest den of infamy cannot ob¬
scure or extinguish one life-giving ray of
thy glorious light, that did even there, to
that frail, feeble, despairing one, confirm
the Saviour's words of promise to her at
the altar, " Thy sins, which were many,
are all forgiven thee."
"Ah, kind ladies," said she, extending
her emaciated hand to each of us, " this
is, indeed, a" condescension I have not
deserved. It is to the Spirit of your Mas¬
ter, influencing your hearts, that I owe
your compassion in visiting one like
me. May he bless and reward you
for it!"
She then proceeded to tell us that,
weary and heart-sick of sin, wishing to
flee away from her very self, she entered
one night, along with the crowd of wor¬
shippers, into the open doors of the M.
E. church, and heard there, 0, such
138 INCIDENTS IN THE
truths !—truths that penetrated to her
heart, and revealed it in all its sin and
misery to herself; hut, then, the hope
that, through repentance and faith, it
might be purged of its sin, and made
meet for the Spirit of God to dwell in—
that there might be forgiveness and sal¬
vation even for her; and, thanks be to
Go<^j she had proved it even so! And
now she abhorred sin; she loathed it;
she longed to die, to get away from it.
"O that she might but flee away, and be
at rest!"
The old person in the room in attend¬
ance, the mother of this her only child,
whom, horrible to say, she had system¬
atically brought up to sin—nay, in the
beginning had, for her own gains, com¬
pelled and forced to iniquity—became
now dreadfully enraged. She said that
her daughter was not in her right mind,
LIFfi OF A PASTOR. 139
and that she did not wish the interference
of strangers in her domestic matters;
that she was her daughter's only and
proper guardian, and together they must
•continue to live, and their means he pro¬
cured in the same way as heretofore.
How revolting to woman's purity such
sentiments of the pit as these! Shock¬
ing, indeed, were they to those who, for
the first time, were made painfully to
realize there could he such depravity in
their own sex.
Ere they turned, in disgust from the
infuriated beldam, they inquired of her
thus:
" But if we promise to provide in some
reputable way for your daughter's sub¬
sistence, will you not consent fon#her to
leave you, in order to lead a different life
than the one which she now affirms is so
abhorrent to her? We will have her
140 INCIDENTS IN1 THE
taught some respectable business, by
which, in time, she will earn a decent
and virtuous support for you both."
"No," said the sinful old woman,
" never, with my consent, shall my own
child leave me; and woe be to them
who should tempt her to desert me !"
The poor sick one, excited and alarmed,
whispered to us it were best to desist
from any thing which might further in¬
cense her mother, and thus render our
kind visit more unpleasant to ourselves
and less efficacious for her.
" Sooner will I die than ever again
repeat the former transgressions of my
life. Of this rest assured, kind ladies.
I believe God will be my Friend; and I
have faith to believe that stronger is He
that is for me than they who are against
me."
We left her with her reiterated bless-
LIFE OF A PASTOE. 141
ings upon our heads for comforting,
strengthening, and encouraging one so
unworthy and undeserving of our no¬
tice.
Contrary to all expectations, we learned
she became quite soon convalescent, and
had nearly regained her former health,
when her mother was very suddenly,
taken ill, and died with her accumulated
load of unrepented sins upon her head,
and that crying one, above all others,
against the honor of her child.
The morning after the night of the
mother's death, and while she yet lay a
corpse in the house, the servant came to
me and announced young Doctor in
the parlor, who desired to speak to me
there alone. As I entered the room
where he was, he said,
"Pardon this trespass on your time
and attention; but my urgent business
142 INCIDENTS IN THE
must plead my excuse. My errand is
one of mercy. Old Mrs. J died
suddenly last night. As a physician, I
was there in attendance. Her daughter
is thus left alone, and, after the funeral
expenses are paid, will he, she affirms,
penniless—penniless, because determined
to he virtuous. But how will she he able
to put her virtuous resolves into prac¬
tice? Who will receive such as she
under their roof? A servant's place, she
says—that of a servant of servants—any
place will he acceptable—the least, the
lowest, by which she may virtuously earn
her bread. Can any thing be done for
this unfortunate being ? I know that you,
with young people about you, cannot
feel free to give her even a shelter be¬
neath your roof; most people are so
situated. What can be done for this
creature of guilt and misery, who, abhor-
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 143
ring her past course of sin, into which
she was inducted before even the age of
moral accountability by her own mother,
now, for the first time, feeling that she is
freed from the trammels upon her, throws
herself on the mercy of Christians, pray¬
ing them to make for her some way of
escape, and aid her in the pursuit of the
way of right, in which, by the help of
God, she is determined henceforth to go ?
She says she owes much to your kind
counsel, and that your visit was as an
angel's visit to her."
0 (
"I will see what can he done," said I.
" Personally, my hands are tied. I can
do nothing directly; hut indirectly, may
accomplish something for her relief. I
think, also, I can influence others to do
something in her behalf."
1 knew not the task I had before me.
Feeling I was not able to be entirely
144 INCIDENTS IN THE
responsible' for tlie poor girl's support,
(for the expenses of her mother's funeral
would leave her entirely penniless,) and
knowing it would be some time before
she could get into any situation for earn¬
ing a living, I aske^some of my friends
and neighbors if they would contribute
a small sum that might defray her ex¬
penses until she might be able to procure
employment; but I was bantered by most
of them for my quixotism, and sneered
at for entertaining the idea of my
"jprotegi" as they called her, ever being
able to persevere for any length of time
in a course of virtue. One or two, how¬
ever, more sanguine than the rest, did
continue, until interrupted by circum¬
stances, to afford me some substantial
aid.
First, candidly stating her case, we got
board for her with a poor woman in the
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 145
country; but her story soon got wind
there, and then the poor woman, being
avoided and reproached by all her
neighbors for giving her shelter, re¬
turned our poor protege upon our
hands.
Then lodgings were procured for her
with a poor but pious widow woman in
town, whom she was to assist in her
work. Soon, however, "certain, lewd
fellows of the baser sort" beset the old
woman's house with the coarsest and
rudest assaults, so that she said she
could shelter the wretched creature no
longer.
"What was now to be done ? All our
efforts to procure her another shelter
proved unavailing. Must we turn her
into the street? What could be done?
None of us might take her under our
own roof, our way to this being, we
146 INCIDENTS IN THE
believed, completely blocked up; from
the force of circumstances, we each
felt it would be impossible to receive
her.
At length, I recollected a worthy old
German couple, old and his wife,
who were childless and kinless, and liv¬
ing in a very isolated part of the country.
They were very poor, but industrious,
honest, and kind-hearted. I narrated
frankly to them the unfortunate girl's
history, and our embarrassments and
difficulties in procuring her a home.
With eyes suffused with tears,
"For Christ's sake, we will shelter this
houseless one," said they.
O how gracious is Providence when we
commit our cause in faith to him, which
in this case assuredly we did! He mer¬
cifully came to our relief. " They who
trust in him shall never be put to con-
LIFE OF A PASTOR.
147
fusion." And how were his poor, trust¬
ing servants, old and his wife,
rewarded for this their deed of mercy?
We shall see.
Poor strove in every way to
ameliorate the hard lot' of her* benefac¬
tors; their circumstances were exceed¬
ingly straitened. With her delicate hands
would she wash and cook for them, and
pick blackberries and whortleberries for
sale, to aid in the purchase of their few
comforts. She took in needlework, but,
never having been properly taught, she
could make little by this. Then she
obtained the district school in the neigh¬
borhood; but the boys belonging to it
were too rude for her control.
Old was a gardener. Ile had a
friend who had, professionally, been in
the habit for years of visiting him, being
also a gardener. He gained much in-
148 INCIDENTS IN THE
struction from so scientific a man as old
. Soon tlie young gardener confessed
to another attraction for his visits—the
meek, modest, intelligent, beautiful in¬
mate, the now adopted daughter of the
old German couple. At length, he asked
her to marry him. She unhesitatingly
refused; and, in order to. take away the
pain of rejection, instructed old to
reveal to him the whole of her unfor¬
tunate story.
After the recital, said the young gar¬
dener to his old friend,
"From some hints, I have surmised
something of this before, so that I am
not taken altogether by surprise. I am
a Scotchman, as^you know, and as great
a stickler about these matters as my
people are apt to be; but this is a case, I
should say, almost unprecedented. A
child ensnared by her own mother into
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 149
crime ere yet she could be responsible in
the eye of God or man; arrived at the
age of moral accountability, how soon
does she shake off the shackles of sin
that had bound her, and, with untram¬
melled spirit, flee at once to virtue! "We
are not personally responsible for the
thick darkness in which, by no act of
our own, we may be enveloped; but we
are accountable if,, when the light shines,
we turn away, and reject its life-giving
beams. So did not she. O, who of us,
under like circumstances, might have
done better, or as well ?"
He who thus reasoned, influenced, we
presume, by the dictates of affection
more than he would have been likely to
allow, was a foreigner, who had bid adieu
to home and kindred for ever; conse¬
quently, there would be none to be mor-
150 INCIDENTS IN THE
tified, offended, or injured by bis misalli¬
ance.
So, whether sophistry or the truth in¬
fluenced him, we will not stop to deter¬
mine, as did not he: he made her his
honored wife.
Soon, by industry and economy, they
became wealthy. One of the largest
nurseries and seed-stores in the city of
was soon owned by them. The
knowledge of botany possessed by his
wife, taught her by her adopted father,
old , her prudence, industry, know¬
ledge of figures, were good spokes in
the wheel of fortune of the prosperous
young gardener. Many called him "a
lucky dog," and wondered where he got
so beautiful, smart, and prudent a wife,
and how he had drawn such a prize in
the uncertain lottery of matrimony.
LIFE OF A PASTOR. 151
As their prosperity increased, so did
her attention to the wants and comforts
of her good and true friends, her friends
in need—the old couple. "When theii>
cottage needed repairing, who promptly
attended to that? When a new cart, or
cow, or horse was wanted for their farm,
who quickly saw that want supplied?
Whose provident care provided for them
every comfort in health and every luxury
in sickness ? Who paid the annual visit,
and cheered that humble cottage and that
aged pair with the sunny smile of grati¬
tude ? The once poor outcast, more than
orphan, that in mercy they had taken,
without hope of reward. Truly was
their bread then cast upon the waters.
"Inasmuch as ye give a cup of cold water
m my name, ye shall not lose your re¬
ward." But who is this that feeds the
hungry, clothe's the naked, shelters the
152
INCIDENTS.
homeless, and succors the friendless;
gives to the Church in all her various
charities, herself content to remain un¬
known, save as the humblest disciple of
her Lord ? Who is the kind neighbor,
the considerate mistress, the excellent
wife ? The poor penitent outcast!
Christian, who would go in the foot¬
steps of your Lord in binding up the
broken heart, and pouring oil -into the
wounded spirit, turn not from the vilest;
they are the neediest, and may best re¬
ward your efforts. Surely there never
were more unpromising prospects for re¬
pentance and reformation than in the
case of poor .
THE END.
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