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MEMOIR 
 
 AND 
 
 SELECT  THOUGHTS 
 
 OF  THE  LATE 
 
 REV.   EDWARD  PAYSON,   D.  D. 
 
 BENE  ORASSE  EST  BENE  STUDDISSE.— LuTHiR, 
 
 COMPIUBD  BY 
 
 REV.  ASA'cUMMINGS. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 PUBLISHED  BY  J.  &  J.  L.  GIHON 
 
 No.  98   CHESNUT  STREET. 
 1851. 
 
INTEODUCTORY  NOTICE. 
 
 The  essential  principle,  the  life-giving  point  of  Christianity,  is  Jesus 
 Christ.  As  to  spiritual  religion,  the  religion  of  the  heart,  "  Clirist  is  all  and 
 in  all."  Col.  iii.  11. 
 
 The  power  which  tlie  Christian  religion  exerts,  is  the  power  of  a  personal 
 affection — personal  affection  for  an  object  the  most  elevated  and  admirable, 
 "the  chief  among  ten  thousand,  the  one  altogether  lovely."  There  is  no  pow- 
 er on  earth  to  be  comi)ared,  in  its  absorbing  and  transforming  influences, 
 with  the  power  of  persona!  affection,  as  we  see  m  the  attachment  between 
 husband  and  wife  and  the  mutual  love  of  parent  and  child.  Take  away  or 
 diminish  by  any  means  this  personal  affection  and  veneration  for  Christ,  and 
 the  transforming  efficacy  of  the  gospel  is  gone. 
 
 The  object  of  the  Christian  religion  is  to  reproduce,  in  men,  "  the  same 
 mind  which  was  also  in  Christ  Jesus,"- — on  a  smaller  scale  indeed,  but  with 
 eveiy  Hneament  distinctly  developed,  and  all  in  due  proportion ;  and  this 
 transformation  is  produced  in  concurrence  with  the  actings  of  a  personal 
 affection,  by  the  steady  contemplating  and  admiring  of  the  moral  glory  of 
 Christ.  "We  all  with  open  (unveiled)  face  beholding  as  in  a  glass  the  glory 
 of  the  Lord,  are  changed  into  the  same  image  from  glory  to  glojy,  even  as  by 
 the  Spirit  of  the  Lord."  '2  Cor.  hi.  18. 
 
 The  Christians  of  whom  we  read  in  the  New  Testament,  were  able  to  live 
 the  Christian  life,  amid  all  the  bitter  trials  and  cruel  persecutions  to  which 
 they  were  subjected,  mainly  by  the  personal  influence  of  Jesus  Christ  over 
 them.  They  "  considered  him  who  endured  such  contradictions  of  sinners 
 against  himself,  lest  they  should  become  weaiy  and  faint  in  their  minds." 
 Heb.  xn.  3.  In  discouragement  tliey  reujembered  the  miracles,  the  trans- 
 figuration, the  ascension ;  in  sorrow  and  suffering  they  called  to  mind  Geth- 
 semane  and  Gabbatha  and  Calvary;  in  sharp  conflicts  and  wrestlings  they  re- 
 flected on  the  scene  in  which  .Tesus  said :  "  Now  is  my  soul  troubled,  and 
 what  shall  I  say ?  Father,  save  me  from  this  hour?  But  for  this  cause 
 came  I  unto  this  hour — Father  glorify  thy  name."  John  xii.  27,  28.  And 
 thus  were  they  able  to  endure. 
 
 His  absence  from  earth  did  not  in  the  least  diminish  the  power  of  his  per- 
 sonal influence  over  them.    Says  the  apostle  who  once  denied  liim,  "  Whom 
 
XIV 
 
 INTRODUCTORY  NOTICE. 
 
 having  not  seen  ye  love,  in  whom  tliough  now  ye  see  him  not,  yet  believing, 
 ye  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory ;  receivuig  the  end  of  your 
 faith,  even  the  salvation  of  your  souls."  1  Peter  i.  8,  9.  And  says  the  other 
 apostle  who  never  left  his  side  but  stood  by  him  to  the  last :  "  That  which  was 
 from  the  beginning,  which  we  have  heard,  which  we  have  seen  with  our  eyes, 
 which  we  have  looked  upon  and  our  hands  have  handled  of  the  word  of  life; 
 
  declare  we  unto  you,  that  ye  also  may  have  fellowship  with  us  and 
 
  tliat  your  joy  may  be  full."  1  John  i.  1 — 4.    Christ  himself  assured  them 
 
 that  his  personal  influence,  so  far  from  being  diminished  by  his  absence, 
 would  actually  be  increased  by  it.  "Nevertheless  I  tell  you  the  truth,  it  is 
 expedient  for  you  that  I  go  away;  for  if  ]  go  not  away,  the  Comforter  will 
 not  come ;  but  if  I  depart,  1  will  send  him  unto  you.  He  shall  receive  of 
 mine  and  shall  show  it  unto  you."  Joh.x  xvi.  7,  14.  These  assurances  are 
 not  confined  to  the  apostles;  they  are  intended  for  all  behe vers.  "Ifanj 
 man  love  n;e,  he  will  keep  my  words,  and  tuy  Father  will  love  him,  and 
 we  will  come  unto  him,  and  make  our  abode  with  him."  John  xiv.  23,  com- 
 pare XVII.  20,  21  and  Rev.  hi.  20.  "Jesus  Christ  is  the  same  yesterday  and 
 to-day  and  forever."  Heb.  xiii.  8;  and  if  these  promises  were  ever  realized, 
 they  can  be  realized  now — if  they  are  phantoms  now,  they  were  always  phan- 
 toms, and  Christ  was  a  dehider  when  he  said,  "Peace  I  leave  with  you,  my 
 peace  I  give  unto  you,  not  as  the  world  giveth,  give  I  unto  you."  John  xiv.  27. 
 
 If  it  was  ever  the  duty  and  privilege  of  Christians  to  live  in  a  state  of  joy- 
 ous, uninterrupted  confidence  in  Christ  and  conscious  personal  aflJection 
 towards  him,  it  is  their  duty  and  privilege  to  do  so  now ;  and  if  iJiofessors  of 
 religion  generally  are  far  away  from  this  state  of  mind,  it  is  only  because 
 they  are  generally  far  away  from  Christ  their  Saviour. 
 
 Dr.  Edward  Payson  had  a  living  consciousness  of  these  truths  beyond 
 what  is  common  even  to  Christian  ministers.  In  his  preaching,  in  his 
 conversation,  and  above  all,  in  his  prayers,  there  was  a  glowing,  ardent,  all- 
 absorbing  personal  sympatliy  with  Christ,  such  as  broke  forth  with  so  splendid 
 imagery  in  the  last  words  of  his  dying  testimony.  No  one  can  form  an  ade- 
 quate conception  of  what  he  was  fi^m  any  of  the  productions  of  his  pen. 
 Admirable  as  liis  written  sermons  are,  his  extemi)ore  prayers  and  the  gush- 
 ings  of  his  heart  in  familiar  talk  were  altogether  higher  and  more  touching 
 than  any  thing  he  ever  wrote.  It  was  my  custom  to  close  my  eyes  when  he 
 began  to  pray,  and  it  was  always  a  letting  down,  a  sort  of  rude  fall,  to  open 
 them  again  when  he  had  concluded,  and  find  myself  still  on  the  earth.  His 
 prayers  always  took  my  spirit  into  the  immediate  presence  of  Christ,  amid 
 the  glories  of  the  spiritual  world;  and  to  look  round  again  on  this  familiar 
 and  comparatively  misty  earth,  was  almost  painful.  At  every  prayer  I  heard 
 him  offer,  during  the  seven  years  in  which  he  was  my  spiritual  guide,  I  never 
 ceased  to  feel  new  astonishment,  at  the  wondei-ful  variety  and  depth  and 
 richness  and  even  novelty  of  feeling  and  expression  which  were  poured  forth. 
 This  was  a  feeling  with  which  every  hearer  sympathized,  and  it  is  a  fact  well 
 known,  that  Christians  trained  under  his  influence  were  generally  remarka- 
 ble for  their  devotional  habits. 
 
 For  the  satisfaction  of  those  who  were  not  personally  acquainted  with  Dr. 
 
INTRODUCTORY  NOTICE. 
 
 XV 
 
 Pi>yson,  I  will  endeavor  to  iiulicate,  in  a  few  w-ords,  what  appeared  to  me 
 to  be  the  original  elements  of  his  character. 
 
 He  had  a  spontaneous  intellectual  activity,  so  that  his  mind  was  alwayi) 
 hard  at  work,  and  would  no  more  be  still  than  the  engine  when  the  steam  is 
 on.  He  could  never  rest  satisfied  with  the  passive  reception  of  ideas  that 
 floated  in  trom  without,  which  make  up  almost  tlie  whole  current  of  thought 
 in  ordinary  men,  but  was  continually  forming  them  into  new  combinations 
 of  his  own.  Hence,  though  an  acute  and  accurate  observer  of  all  that  was 
 passing  around  him  and  possessing  in  an  unusual  degree  those  sympathies 
 which  bind  man  to  his  fellow  man, —  he  sometimes  appeared  abstracted  and 
 absent,  because  he  was  busied  in  working  up  the  materials  which  lay  before 
 him  ;  and  sometimes  he  seemed  cold  and  reserved,  because  his  sympathies 
 were  absorbed  in  ideals,  from  which  they  could  not  be  detached  without 
 rending. 
 
 From  this  source  also  arose  the  melancholy  which  sometiines  settled 
 upon  him.  With  a  mind  too  inventive  to  be  contented  with  common  objects 
 of  thought,  and  with  sensibilities  too  acute  to  cling  to  tlie  world  around  him, 
 unless  engrossed  by  some  great  object  of  pursuit,  his  soul  turned  inward  and 
 preyed  upon  itself.  This  was  the  case  in  childhood  and  early  youth,  before 
 his  mind  was  absorbed  by  any  prominent  object;  and  so  it  was  in  after  life, 
 when  exhausted  by  labor  and  during  the  transition  from  one  intellectual 
 effort  to  another. 
 
 The  same  characteristic  explains  the  rapidity  with  which  he  made  acquisi- 
 tions, the  avidity  with  which  he  devoured  books,  the  thorough  knowledge 
 which  he  seemed  to  possess,  after  a  bi'ief  observation,  of  a  man's  character 
 and  intentions. 
 
 Another  original  element  of  Dr.  Payson's  character  was  the  hveliness  and 
 never  failing  exuberance  of  his  fancy.  There  was  no  end  to  the  illusti-ations 
 and  images  which  sparkled  from  him  in  the  pulpit,  and  still  more  in  the 
 domestic  circle  ;  they  were  always  a[)propriate  and  in  good  taste,  and  though 
 strikingly  original,  they  seldom  had  the  appearance  of  oddness  or  grotesque- 
 ness.  His  powers  of  conversation  were  unrivalled;  his  thoughts  flew  from 
 him  in  every  variety  of  beauty  and  harmonj ,  like  birds  from  the  aviary  of 
 Eden  before  the  fall.  As  Ben  Johnson  said  of  Shakespeare :  "  He  had  an 
 excellent  fancy,  brave  notions,  and  gentle  exjiressions,  wherein  he  flowed  with 
 such  facility  that  sometimes  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  be  stopped!" 
 
 A  third  original  element  of  his  character  was  a  prodigious  energy  of  feel- 
 ing, which  impelled  him  through  eveiy  obstacle  to  the  accomplishment  of  an 
 important  object.  So  strong  were  his  feelings,  that  for  the  time  they  would 
 give  the  vigor  of  a  giant  to  a  body  prostrated  by  disease  and  lassitude;  how- 
 ever great  the  difiiculties  which  lay  in  his  way,  he  would  scarcely  seem 
 conscious  of  their  existence  till  the  work  was  done ;  and  it  was  never  till 
 after  the  victory  was  gained,  that  he  felt  the  wounds  he  had  received  in  the 
 conflict. 
 
 It  was  this  energy  of  feeling  which  nerved  him  to  such  astonishing  pulpit 
 exertions  after  a  week  of  severe  ilhiess  and  total  prostration  ;  it  was  this  that 
 urged  him  to  those  constiint  efforts  which  at  length  deranged  the  physical 
 
XVI 
 
 INTRODUCTORY  NOTICE. 
 
 organization  and  occasioned  him  such  terrible  sufferings  the  latter  part  of 
 his  life. 
 
 His  affections  were  exceedingly  deep  and  rich  —  his  love  was  the  love 
 of  un  angel,  and  the  glow  of  his  dark  piercing  eye  seemed  sometimes  to 
 flash  with  the  emotions  of  a  soul  that  belonged  to  a  higher  order  of  beings, 
 a  soul  with  which  Christ  had  so  long  been  in  commuuion,  that  he  had  trans- 
 formed it  to  his  own  likeness,  as  the  Persian  rose  imparts  its  fragrance  to 
 the  humble  plant  which  grow  by  its  side. 
 
 The  principal  errors  of  Dr.  Payson's  career,  (for  like  all  other  rnen  he  had 
 his  failings)  and  even  his  early  death  may  be  ascribed  mainly  to  his  want  of 
 an  appreciation  of  the  influence  of  the  physical  organization  upon  the  mind, 
 and  of  the  mind  upon  the  physical  organization.  He  knew  it  well  enough  in 
 theory,  but  he  did  not  sufhciently  apply  his  knowledge  to  practice  in  his  own 
 case.  Notwithstanding  tlie  good  motives  with  which  he  acted,  and  his  emi- 
 nent devotediiess  and  usefulness,  God  did  not  turn  aside  the  laws  of  nature 
 in  his  favor,  but  let  them  go  on  with  cnisliing  regularity. 
 
 He  told  me  on  his  death  bed,  that  in  this  respect  he  had  erred,  in  keeping 
 his  mind  and  feelings  in  constant  tension,  as  if  the  mind  were  of  no  account 
 in  tlie  struggle ;  and  he  hoped  the  next  generation  of  ministers  would  be 
 wiser  in  this  than  he  had  been. 
 
 He  never  favored  himself.  Whatever  he  did,  he  did  by  "a  dead  lift;"  and 
 he  co)itiiuied  lifting  all  tlie  while  there  was  any  thing  to  be  lifted  ;  as  if  he 
 must  never  rest  till  he  was  in  his  grave.  And  the  weights  which  he  took  up- 
 on himself  and  kept  upon  himself  without  relieli  sunk  him  to  the  tomb  before 
 his  time.  Much  it'  not  all  the  spiritual  darkness  under  which  he  occasionally 
 suffered,  was  the  physical  action  of  a  nervous  system  overworked ;  and  the 
 painful  j)aralysis  with  which  he  died  was  the  extreme  exhaustion  of  a  natu- 
 rally strong  body  perpetually  driven  by  a  stronger  mind  which  allowed  it  no 
 repose. 
 
 We  can  almost  say,  that  he  gave  to  his  people  his  flesh  to  eat  and  his  blood 
 to  drink,  till  it  was  all  gone ;  and  they  in  return  gave  back  gratitude  as  warm, 
 and  mourning  as  poignant,  as  ever  a  dying  pastor  receivetl  from  his  surviv- 
 ing flock. 
 
 C.  E.  STOWE. 
 
 Walnut  Hills,  Cincinnatti. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The  publications  from  Dr.  Payson's  pen  have  been  chiefly  posthumous. 
 Three  Sermons  only,  and  an  Address  to  Seamen,  were  printed  in  his  life-time. 
 Besides  these,  no  other  productions  of  his  were  written  with  the  remotest 
 reference  to  the  press.  They  are  just  such  as  he  was  accustomed  to  prepare 
 and  preach,  at  the  rate  of  three  a  week,  for  most  of  the  time  during  a  minis- 
 try of  twenty  years. 
 
 Within  a  few  months  of  Dr.  Payson's  decease,  which  occurred  in  the  au- 
 tumn of  1827,  a  volume  of  his  Sermons,  in  the  octavo  form,  was  published ; 
 two  years  later,  a  Memoir  of  his  Life ;  afterwards  a  second  volume  of  Ser- 
 mons, in  a  form  and  at  a  price  to  render  its  acquisition  generally  available ; 
 later  still,  a  smaller  volume,  entitled  Family  Sermons ;  and  near  the  samo 
 time,  a  miniature  volume  of  his  "  Thoughts,"  collected  and  prepared  for  the 
 press  by  his  daughter,  since  Blrs.  Hopkins,  which  has  passed  thi-ough  suc- 
 cessive editions,  and  been  much  valued  by  devout  readers. 
 
 The  original  Memou*  was  frequently  re-printed,  from  stereotype  plates, 
 through  four  or  five  years  from  the  date  of  its  fii'st  appearance,  when  the 
 plates  were  destroyed  in  a  calamitous  fire.  No  step  was  taken  to  renew 
 them,  as  it  was  thought,  that  the  American  Tract  Society's  issues  of  an 
 abridgment,  which  had  been  made  as  the  result  of  an  honorable  negociation, 
 might  possibly  satisfy  the  public  demand. 
 
 Inquiries  for  the  entire  Memoir,  as  well  as  for  the  Sermons,  both  of  which 
 have  been  long  out  of  print,  having  become  fi-eqnent  of  late,  proposals  were 
 made  by  the  present  publishers  for  a  new  emission  ;  and  this  edition,  in  three 
 large  volumes  of  uniform  size  and  appearance,  is  the  result 
 
 The  first  volume  embraces  the  Memoir,  Select  Thoughts,  and  six  additional 
 pieces,  all  of  which,  except  the  last,  are  entirely  new  to  the  public,  and  were 
 chosen  from  a  mass,  as  possessing  much  to  interest  the  Christian  reader,  and 
 as  harmonizing  with  the  preceding  portions  of  the  volume. 
 
 The  second  and  third  volumes  are  occupied  exclusively  with  Sermons , 
 
VI 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 the  former  is  wholly  a  re-print ;  the  third  contains  twenty-six  new  Sermons ; 
 numbered  50  to  68,  inclusive,  70,  74,  89,  90,  95,  96,  97.  Two  Sermons,  the 
 49th  and  94th,  were  originally  published  singly,  and  now,  for  the  first  time, 
 take  their  place  in  a  volume.  In  the  first  and  third  volumes  will  be  found 
 matter  equivalent  to  thirty-one  Sermons,  never  before  printed,  much  of  it 
 not  inferior  to  Dr.  Payson's  most  valued  productions, —  glowing  with  the 
 same  pious  zeal  and  earnest  eloquence,  in  defence  of  God's  truth,  and  in  the 
 enforcement  of  human  duty,  and  distinguished  by  the  same  vivid  and  forcible 
 illustration.  The  introductoiy  notice, by  Professor  Stowe,  wliose  former  re- 
 lations to  Dr.  Payson  were  pre-eminently  favorable  to  a  just  appreciation  of 
 his  qualities,  renders  any  attempt  to  characterize  the  Sermons,  in  this  place,* 
 wholly  unnecessary. 
 
 The  reader  will  observe,  that  sentences  and  passages  taken  from  the  Scrip- 
 tures are,  in  these  Sermons,  rarely  distinguished  by  quotation  marks.  Such 
 a  mode  of  distinguishing  them  was  soon  found  to  be  unnecessary,  as  Dr. 
 Payson's  manner  of  introducing  quotations  from  the  Bible  indicates  their 
 source  with  nearly  the  same  certainty  and  precision  as  the  ordinary  sign. 
 
 The  essential  characteristics  of  the  Memoir  remain,  as  at  first  presented. 
 The  feature  most  obnoxious  to  censure  is  its  melancholy.  From  the  detail 
 of  desponding  feelings,  doubts  and  temptations,  unhappy  consequences  to  the 
 reader  were  apprehended  and  predicted  by  persons  whose  judgment  was 
 entitled  to  respect ;  but  these  could  not  have  been  wholly  concealed,  without 
 the  sacrifice  of  historical  verity.  Besides,  we  are  liable  to  err  in  judging, 
 a  priori,  of  such  writings.  Dr.  Payson,  contrary  to  maternal  fears,  was  re- 
 lieved, comforted,  and  instructed,  by  readuig  of  tlie  melancholy  workings  of 
 Cowpcr's  mind,  ashave  been  many  persons  by  reading  those  of  Payson's.  A 
 number  of  remarkable  instances  of  such  relief  have  come  to  the  editor's 
 knowledge ;  among  them  that  of  a  totally  disheartened  minister  of  the  gos- 
 ]  el.  He  had  renounced  his  work  in  despair,  and,  as  he  thought,  forever ; 
 but  was  re-animated,  and  recalled  to  the  active  duties  of  his  ofiice  by  reading 
 of  the  despondency  and  struggles  of  Payson's  mind,  over  which  grace  caused 
 liiin  at  length  to  triumph.  We  should  suppose,  that  such  desponding,  and, 
 it  might  almost  be  said,  deistical  sentiments,  as  are  recorded  in  the  first  pait 
 of  the  seventy-third  psalm,  would  be  very  injurious  to  the  reader;  whereas 
 their  real  effect  is  to  give  force,  impressiveness  and  beauty  to  the  language 
 which  follows,  so  inimitably  expressive  of  strong  faith  in  God,  and  confidence 
 in  his  providential  government,  In  like  manner,  should  the  reader  feel  op- 
 ))ressed  by  the  distressing  exercises  which  are  detailed  in  some  of  the  follow- 
 ing chppters,  let  him  glance,  for  a  moment,  to  then-  issue,  and  find  relief  in 
 contemplating  the  triumphs  of  Payson's  later  days. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 vn 
 
 Further ;  it  may  appear  on  reflection,  that  there  could  be  no  adequate 
 exhibition  of  the  degree  of  Dr.  Payson's  piety,  without  a  corresponding  ex- 
 hibition of  the  obstacles  against  which  he  had  to  contend.  That  he  did 
 triumphantly  surmount  them  all,  is  a  fact  full  of  encouragement  to  the 
 tempted,  desponding  Christian.  Indeed,  it  strips  persons  of  this  description 
 of  their  last  excuse  for  not  persevering  and  rising  superior  to  all  difficulties ; 
 for  where  is  the  individual,  whose  constitutional  hinderances  to  a  peaceful 
 and  constant  progress  in  piety  are  more  hard  to  be  vanquished,  or  more 
 aggravated  by  bodily  maladies  ?  Who  then  can  succumb,  since  he  has  come 
 off  victor? 
 
 It  may  also  deserve  consideration,  whether  the  development  of  soitows 
 and  depressions,  as  given  in  the  former  part  of  this  volume,  is  not,  on  the 
 whole,  necessary  to  "justify  the  ways  of  God  to  men whether  it  is  not  in 
 agreement  with  the  laws  which  God  observes  in  the  arrangements  of  his 
 providence  and  in  the  dispensations  of  his  grace,  that  attainments  should 
 bear  a  due  proportion  to  the  efforts  by  which  they  were  acquired ;  that  con- 
 flict should  precede  victory ;  that  they  who  would  "  reap  in  joy "  should 
 "  sow  in  teais  ? "  Now,  it  is  well  known  that  Dr.  Payson's  attainments  in 
 rehgion  were  far  above  the  ordinary  standard ;  his  spiritual  joys  transcended, 
 possibly,  those  of  any  other  tenant  of  earth.  Let  the  the  reader,  after  having 
 examined  his  history  tliroughout,  say  whether  the  "  seed  "  is  disproportionate 
 to  the  "  fruit." 
 
 It  does  not  affect  this  argument,  that  many  of  the  exercises  and  affections, 
 of  which  he  was  the  subject,  have  no  necessary  connexion  with  religion. 
 Some  of  them,  it  will  be  seen  in  the  progress  of  the  work,  have  been  laid 
 out  of  the  account,  in  estimating  his  personal  religion.  They  aie  too  plainly 
 and  too  bitterly  characterized  by  himself,  to  be  mistaken  for  objects  of  ration- 
 al or  pious  desire,  t^till,  however,  wliere  they  have  not  a  criminal  origin, 
 they  may  properly  be  ranked  with  other  afflictions,  which  although  not  good 
 in  themselves,  aie  often  known  to  "  work  out  the  peaceable  fruits  of  right- 
 eousness." 
 
 The  suggestion  has  also  occurred,  whether  the  records  which  have  been 
 transferred  to  the  following  pages  were  not  specially  furnished  by  Providence 
 to  meet  an  existing  exigency  of  the  Christian  Church.  The  great  enterprises 
 in  which  she  is  engaged,  necessarily  modify  the  instructions  of  her  teachers, 
 as  well  as  the  duties  of  her  members.  They  are  constantly  exiiorted  to 
 action,  as  indeed  they  should  be.  It  is  an  active,  not  a  contemplative  age.  The 
 business  of  Christians  is,  in  fact,  mthovt,  among  their  fellow  creatures;  not 
 wUhin,  in  communion  with  then-  own  hearts.  These  circumstances,  conspir- 
 wg  with  man's  natural  aversion  to  self  examination,  and  the  paramount 
 
via 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 difficulty  of  the  duty,  may  bring  on  a  deplorable  inattention  to  the  heart; 
 they  cei-tainly  will,  if  relative  duties  be  regarded  as  a  substitute  for  private 
 devotion.  The  Church  should  look  to  it,  that  the  springs  of  holy  action  be 
 not  dried  up.  The  benevolent  operations  of  the  age  were  set  in  motion  by 
 men  of  such  deep  and  heai-t-pei-vadiug  piety  as  Payson's.  Such  piety  must 
 continue  to  urge  them  onward,  or  their  movements  will  be  sluggish  and 
 inefficient  The  two  classes  of  duties  will  here  be  seen  to  have  received 
 merited  attention,  and  their  reciprocal  influence  will  be  scarcely  less  obvious. 
 
 In  executing  his  extremely  dehcate  and  responsible  task,  the  compiler  has 
 had  occasion  to  feel  the  value  of  the  counsel  and  the  promise,  which  are 
 addressed  to  those  who  "lack  wisdom;"  and  can  take  no  p»aise  to  himself, 
 that  his  errors  of  judgment  have  not  been  more  numerous  and  more  flagrant. 
 May  God  attend  the  perusal  of  these  volumes,  notwitlistanding  editorial  im- 
 perfections, with  his  "racious  benediction. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 CHAPTER  I. 
 
 Uses  of  religious  biography.  Birth  of  Edward  Payson.  His  early  im- 
 pressions ;  intellectual  qualities  ;  filial  and  fraternal  conduct ;  moral 
 character.  His  literary  education  ;  enters  Harvard  College  ;  his  reputation 
 there.  13 
 
 CHAPTER  II. 
 Comprising  a  period  of  three  years  from  the  time  of  his  leaving  college.  25 
 
 CHAPTER  III. 
 His  religious  history  during  the  period  embraced  in  the  preceding  chap- 
 ter 42 
 
 CHAPTER  IV. 
 
 Retires  to  Rindge,  and  devotes  himself  exclusively  to  his  preparation  for 
 the  ministry.  73 
 
 CHAPTER  V. 
 His  state  of  mind  in  the  immediate  prospect  of  the  ministry.      -  94 
 
 CHAPTER  VI. 
 His  first  efibrts  as  a  preacher.    His  religious  character  further  developed.  106 
 
 CHAPTER  VII. 
 Visits  Portland,  —  his  favorable  reception,  and  Ordination.  .       -       .  124 
 
 CHAPTER  VIII. 
 His  concern  for  his  flock.    Reverse  in  his  temporal  prospects.    Is  taken 
 from  his  work  by  sickness.  140 
 
 CHAPTER  IX. 
 Resumes  his  pastoral  labors.    Letters.    Review  of  the  year.  154 
 
X 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER  X. 
 
 His  dependence  on  God  ;  its  influence  on  himself  and  church.  Hia  uni- 
 form purpose  to  know  nothing  save  Jesus  Christ  and  Him  crucified. 
 Illustration.    Letters.    Resolutions.    Increased  success.  -       -  170 
 
 CHAPTER  XI. 
 Permanency  and  strength  of  maternal  influence.  Correspondence. 
 Death-bed  anguish,  how  alleviated.    Disgraceful  incident.    Price  of  popu- 
 larity.   Reasons  of  former  trials  developed.    Letters,  &c.      -       -       -  189 
 
 CHAPTER  XII. 
 
 Holy  aspirations.  Gratitude  to  the  Saviour.  jMultiplied  labors.  Novel 
 family  scene.  Danger  averted.  "  Curious  frame."  Flattery  deprecated. 
 His  marriage.  Becomes  sole  pastor  of  the  church.  Retrospect  of  the 
 year.   -      -  202 
 
 CHAPTER  XIII. 
 
 Forms  of  prayer.    Thoughts  on  public  prayer.    His  sincerity.    The  im- 
 portance of  this  quality  to  a  minister's  success.  220 
 
 CHAPTER  XIV. 
 
 The  pastor  in  action.  Methods  of  exciting,  sustaining  and  extending  a 
 due  interest  in  religious  concerns.  Preaching,  administration  of  ordinan- 
 ces, church  fast,  conference,  inquiry  meetings.  243 
 
 CHAPTER  XV. 
 
 The  same  subject.  Bible  class.  Pastoral  visits.  Social  parties.  Special 
 and  casual  interviews.  Charm  of  his  conversation.  Singular  rencounter. 
 Whence  his  competency.    His  publications.  274 
 
 CHAPTER  XVI. 
 His  exertions  without  the  bounds  of  his  parish.  Influence  on  his  minis- 
 terial associates ;  in  resuscitating  and  edifying  other  churches.  Visits 
 "The  Springs."  Effect  of  his  example,  conversation,  and  prayers  on 
 other  visitors.  Excursions  in  behalf  of  charitable  societies.  Translation 
 of  ministers.    He  is  invited  to  Boston  and  New  York.    .       -       -       -  291 
 
 CHAPTER  XVII. 
 Letters  to  persons  in  various  circumstances  and  states  of  mind.  -       -  308 
 
 CHAPTER  XVIII. 
 
 His  private  character.  His  affections  and  demeanor  as  a  husband,  father, 
 master,  friend.  His  gratitude,  economy,  generosity.  His  temper  of  mind 
 under  injuries        -   337 
 
CONTENTS.  XI 
 
 CHAPTER  XIX. 
 
 Further  particulars  relating  to  his  personal  history,  and  religious  exercises, 
 in  connexion  with  his  pastoral  labors  and  their  results.    -       -       -       -  354 
 
 CHAPTER  XX. 
 
 His  last  labors.    His  spiritual  joys,  heavenly  counsels,  and  brightening 
 intellect,  during  the  progress  of  his  disease.    His  triumphant  exit.  Conclu- 
 Bion.       ....   394 
 
 SELECT  THOUGHTS. 
 
 God,   -459 
 
 Eternity  of  God,   460 
 
 Love  of  God,  -       -    .  -  460 
 
 Wisdom  of  God,   461 
 
 Living  to  God,   461 
 
 Can  Creatures  glorify  God?   462 
 
 Reverence  for  God,  462 
 
 Duty  of  loving  God,   463 
 
 Preferring  Creatures  to  God,         -   464 
 
 Excellence  of  God,   464 
 
 Submission  to  God,       -       -   465 
 
 Necessity  of  Submission,           -  46? 
 
 Sin  of  Unbelief,   46S 
 
 Human  Depravity,   46i) 
 
 Robbing  God,   470 
 
 Love  of  the  World,    .       -       -      -  '   470 
 
 Neglect  of  the  Bible,   471 
 
 Neglect  of  Prayer,   471 
 
 Forbearance  of  God,  47;^ 
 
 Man's  Dependence,                                                            -  473 
 
 To  the  Impenitent,                                                   ...  474 
 
 God  angry  with  Sinners,                                                             -  475 
 
 Motives  to  Repentance,        •   47G 
 
 Objections  answered,   477 
 
 Folly  of  Objectors,   473 
 
 Insufficiency  of  Reason,     -       --       --       --              -  479 
 
 Natural  Religion,   480 
 
 Folly  of  Objectors,     -   481 
 
 Punishment  of  Sinners,         -       -       -       -       -       -       -       "  482 
 
 No  Peace  to  Sinners,   483 
 
 Sinners'  Thoughts  painful,  ,483 
 
 Saint's  Armor,    484 
 
 Grounds  of  false  Peace,   485 
 
 Conscience,   485 
 
 A  wounded  Spirit,   486 
 
 Unwillingness  to  be  saved,  488 
 
 Excuses  answered,                                                                -  488 
 
 Peace  in  believing,    489 
 
XII  CONTENTS. 
 
 Effects  of  Conversion,    -       •    491 
 
 The  Self-confident,     ...    493 
 
 Christians  dissimilar,     ......              .  493 
 
 Tests  of  Piety,   494 
 
 Fear  and  Hope,      -       •              .       .              -       .              .  495 
 
 The  Law  honored,      .......                    .  495 
 
 Adam  our  Representative,     ......             .  493 
 
 Christ  bore  our  Sins,          ......             .  49.5 
 
 Psalm  Ixxxv.  10, 11,                                                            .       .  499 
 
 Grounds  of  Pardon,           .....               ...  sqq 
 
 Plan  of  Redemption,      .....              ...  590 
 
 The  World  without  Christ,   502 
 
 The  Gospel  glad  Tidings,       -                                                 -  593 
 
 Christ  our  Example,          .....              ...  594 
 
 Christ  a  Teacher,  594 
 
 Reasons  for  loving  Christ,          ........  595 
 
 Christ  the  best  Friend,   506 
 
 Invitations  of  Christ,         .........  506 
 
 Christ's  Displeasure  at  Sin,   .......  507 
 
 Death  of  Christ,         ..........  508 
 
 Sufferings  of  Christ,      .       -       .       .       .       .                      -  5Q8 
 
 Love  of  Christ,          .       .........  509 
 
 Self-denial  of  Christ,     .........  510 
 
 Chrisfs  Reward,         ..........  511 
 
 Condescension  of  Christ,  512 
 Language  of  Penitence,     .......       ..5]^  3 
 
 Communion  with  God,          ........  515 
 
 Call  to  Christians,      .........  51G 
 
 Union  with  Christ,         .........  51,^ 
 
 The  Christian's  Consolation,      .......  51  ;| 
 
 Christ  unchangeable,     .........  522 
 
 Christ  a  Helper,         -  52;j 
 
 My  Beloved  is  mine,  524 
 
 The  Bible  entirely  practical,       ........  524 
 
 Duty  of  studying  the  Bible,          ......  524 
 
 Prayer,   525 
 
 Praise,   52(i 
 
 The  Lord's  Supper,    .........  527 
 
 Relative  Duties  of  Christians,       .......  503 
 
 Love  one  another,      ..........  529 
 
 Universal  Law  of  Benevolence,     .......  530 
 
 Duties  to  the  Heathen,       .       ........  539 
 
 Religious  Consistency,           -       .              ....  53^ 
 
 Christ  glorified  in  his  Church,           ......  533 
 
 Miscellaneous  Directions  to  Christians,         .....  r)34 
 
 The  Way  to  cure  a  Covetous  Spirit,   .......  534 
 
 O  Death  !  where  is  thy  Sting  ?-......  535 
 
 To  the  Ministers  of  Christ,  535 
 
 Happiness  of  Heaven,    ......       -      .      .  537 
 
A  Jewel  for  your  Crown. 
 The  Doubting  comforted. 
 The  wounded  Dove.  - 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 539 
 539 
 540 
 
 CHRISTIAN  EXPERIENCE. 
 Come  and  hear,  all  ye  that  fear  God,  and  I  will  declare  what  he  hath 
 done  for  my  soul. — Psalm  lxvi.  16.   541 
 
 BLESSED  RECIPROCITY. 
 
 My  Beloved  is  mine,  and  I  am  his. — Song  ii.  16.      -       -       -       -  552 
 
 SEARCHING  RETROSPECTION. 
 Now  of  the  things  which  we  have  spoken  unto  you,  this  is  the  sum. — 
 HsB.  Till.  1.  561 
 
 THE  NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 And  the  city  had  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither  of  the  moon  to  shine  in  it; 
 for  the  glory  of  God  did  lighten  it,  and  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof. — 
 Rev.  XXI.  23.   574 
 
 GOD  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  HIS  CHURCH. 
 
 In  that  day  it  shall  be  said  to  Jerusalem,  Fear  thou  not ;  and  to  Zion,  Let 
 not  thy  hands  be  slack.  The  Lord  thy  God  in  the  midst  of  thee  is  mighty ; 
 he  will  save,  he  will  rejoice  over  thee  with  joy  ;  he  will  rest  in  his  love  ; 
 he  will  joy  over  thee  with  singing. — Zephaniah  iii.  16,  17.         •       -  587 
 
 ADDRESS  TO  SEAMEN. 
 Delivered  before  the  Portland  Marine  Bible  Society,  Oct.  28,  1821.  597 
 
MEMOIR. 
 CHAPTER  I. 
 
 Uses  of  religious  biography.  Birth  of  Edward  Payson.  His  eai'ly  impres- 
 sions ;  intellectual  qualities  ;  filial  and  fraternal  conduct ;  moral  character. 
 His  literary  education ;  enters  Harvard  College  ;  his  reputation  there. 
 
 Evangelical  virtue  is  best  understood,  when  it  is  seen  embod- 
 ied,— operating,  and  yielding  its  appropriate  fruits,  in  the  person 
 of  a  moral  agent.  Thus  seen,  it  is  also  most  influential  for 
 good.  The  living  evidences  of  the  truth  and  power  of  Chris- 
 tianity will  sooner  silence  a  caviller,  than  the  best  constructed 
 and  most  labored  argument :  they  are  more  thoroughly  convinc- 
 ing, more  practically  efiicacious.  Moral  phenomena  are  wit- 
 nessed, unlike  and  infinitely  superior  to  those  which  result  from 
 any  other  system.  Qualities  of  character  display  themselves, 
 bearing  unequivocal  marks  of  a  heavenly  origin,  and  of  a  heav- 
 enly tendency.  Hence,  the  friends  of  the  Redeemer  have  always 
 esteemed  it  a  no  less  useful  than  pleasant  service,  to  preserve  and 
 hand  down  memorials  of  such  as  have  been  eminent  for  the 
 savor  and  strength  of  their  piety,  the  ardor  and  steadfastness  of 
 their  devotion,  and  the  abundance  and  success  of  their  labors 
 in  the  cause  of  Christ.  Nor  does  the  value  of  such  a  memorial 
 depend  upon  the  freedom  from  imperfection  of  him  whom  it 
 commemorates,  so  much  as  upon  the  degree  of  resistance  which 
 he  has  overcome  in  his  progress  towards  "  the  mark  of  our  high 
 
14 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 calling."  To  secure  the  object  contemplated  by  such  a  memori- 
 al, it  is  not  necessary  to  hold  up  the  character  as  faultless,  nor 
 even  to  magnify  its  excellencies,  or  extenuate  its  defects.  A 
 strict  adherence  to  truth,  and  a  just  representation  of  facts,  will 
 not  only  be  safest  for  man,  but  most  effectually  exalt  the  grace 
 of  God.  That  apostle,  who  labored  more  abundantly  than  his 
 fellows,  recognises  it  as  among  the  causes  why  he  had  obtained 
 mercy,  who  was  before  a  blasphemer,  and  a  persecutor,  and  in- 
 jurious, that  he  "might  be  a  pattern  to  them  who  should  hereaf- 
 ter believe."  The  heart,  alive  to  its  guilt  and  wretchedness, 
 would  sink  in  everlasting  despondency,  if  it  might  not  revert  to 
 the  "chief  of  sinners,"  as  among  the  number  whom  Christ  came 
 to  save,  and  who  have  actually  obtained  salvation.  The  dis- 
 couragements arising  from  inbred  sin,  in  all  its  countless  varie- 
 ties of  operation,  would  depress  the  Christian  almost  beyond 
 recovery,  but  for  the  recorded  experience  of  others,  weighed 
 down  by  the  pressure  of  similar  burdens,  who  finally  came  off 
 conquerors,  "through  Him  who  loved  them."  From  the  "great 
 fight  of  afilictions,"  which  his  elder  brethren,  who  have  preced- 
 ed him  in  the  weary  pilgrimage,  have  "endured,"  and  the  terrible 
 conflicts  with  passion  and  temptation  which  they  have  survived, 
 he  may  learn,  that  his  case  is  not  singular ;  that,  however  fiery 
 the  trial  to  which  he  is  subjected,  still  "no  strange  thing  hath 
 happened  unto  him."  There  is  no  unholy  bias  of  the  heart,  no 
 easily  besetting  sin,  no  violence  of  passion,  no  force  of  tempta- 
 tion, which  has  not  been  vanquished  by  faith  in  things  unseen; 
 and  that,  too,  in  circumstances  as  unfavorable  to  victory,  as  any 
 in  which  men  now  are,  or  probably,  ever  will  be  placed.  Ene- 
 mies as  virulent  and  formidable  as  any  that  lie  in  wait  for  our 
 souls,  have  been  successfully  resisted,  —  trials  as  disheartening, 
 and  struggles  as  desperate,  as  any  that  await  our  faith,  have 
 been  met,  sustained,  surmounted  by  men  "of  like  passions  with 
 ourselves."  "Out  of  the  depths  they  cried  unto  the  Lord,  and 
 were  heard;  they  overcame  through  the  blood  of  the  Lamb." 
 
 Nor  will  the  benefit  be  limited  to  the  fervent  believer,  in  his 
 spiritual  conflicts.  These  monimiental  records  will  meet  the 
 eye  of  him,  who  "has  a  name  to  live  while  he  is  dead  :"  and 
 they  are  adapted,  beyond  most  other  means,  to  break  his  fatal 
 slumber,  to  excite  salutary  apprehensions  in  his  mind,  and  fas- 
 ten there  the  unwelcome,  but  needful  conviction,  that  he  has 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 15 
 
 "neither  part  nor  lot"  in  the  Christian's  inheritance.  The  marked 
 contrast,  which  he  cannot  fail  to  observe,  between  the  opera- 
 tions of  a  mind  animated  by  the  Spirit,  and  glowing  with  the 
 love  of  God,  and  those  of  which  he  is  himself  conscious ;  be- 
 tween the  moral  achievements  of  a  man,  carried  forward  by 
 the  steady  energies  of  a  purifying  faith,  and  the  few  and  slug- 
 gish efforts,  which  fill  up  his  own  history, — can  hardly  fail  to 
 reveal  him  to  himself,  as  one  "weighed  in  the  balance  and 
 found  wanting."  He  reads  of  exertions,  which  he  never  put 
 forth  ;  of  humiliation  and  self-denial,  which  he  never  practised  ; 
 of  confessions,  which  his  heart  never  dictated ;  of  exerci.ses, 
 which  he  never  experienced ;  of  hopes  and  prospects,  by  which 
 his  own  bosom  was  never  gladdened.  In  the  character  of  the 
 determined  Christian,  he  discerns  a  renunciation  of  self,  and  a 
 godly  jealousy  over  the  workings  of  the  heart,  naturally  deceit- 
 ful above  all  things,  which  are  totally  at  war  with  his  own  self- 
 confidence.  He  learns,  that  under  all  varieties  of  outward 
 condition,  self-mortification  is  still  an  eminent  characteristic  of 
 the  follower  of  Christ ;  that  no  man,  who  warreth,  entangleth 
 kimself  with  the  affairs  of  this  world  ;  that  the  expectant  of  the 
 crown  of  righteousness  is  no  more  exempted  from  the  agonizing 
 strife  to  obtain  it,  than  he  was  in  the  days  of  primitive  Chris- 
 tianity. In  the  modern  believer,  if  his  faith  be  not  "dead,"  you 
 identify  the  grand  features  of  that  religion,  which'  sanctified, 
 controlled,  and  supported  apostles  and  martyrs. 
 
 The  uses  of  religious  biography  extend  further  still.  It  is  the 
 means,  under  God,  of  attaching  to  the  cause  of  Zion,  men  of 
 great  energy  and  moral  worth,  —  magnanimous  in  purpose, 
 wise  in  counsel,  vigorous  and  persevering  in  action.  In  how 
 many,  who  have  done  valiantly  for  the  truth,  has  the  flame  of 
 holy  zeal  and  enterprise  been  first  kindled  at  the  pages  which 
 record  the  religious  experience  and  evangelical  labors  of  Baxter, 
 Brainerd,  Edwards,  Martyn,  and  others  of  a  kindred  spirit, — 
 who,  but  for  these  memorials,  would  have  been  lost  to  the 
 Church  of  Christ,  and  perhaps  have  become  her  most  deter- 
 mined foes  !  The  "children  of  this  world"  understand  the  influ- 
 ence of  such  writings,  and  wisely  preserve  every  thing  that  is 
 memorable  in  their  heroes,  philosophers,  poets,  and  artists,  that 
 youth  may  emulate  their  enthusiasm,  and  act  over  their  achieve- 
 ments.   And  though  it  may  be  true,  that  "modern  biography 
 
16 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 has  been  too  busily  and  curiously  employed  in  enrolling  and 
 blazoning  names,  which  will  scarcely  outlive  the  records  of  the 
 grave-stone,"  still  "it  is  not  easy  to  estimate  the  loss,  which  is 
 sustained  by  the  Christian  community,  when  an  example  of 
 eminent  sanctity  and  heroic  zeal  is  defrauded  of  its  just  honors, 
 when  a  living  epistle  of  apostolic  piety  is  suffered  to  perish  :  or, 
 to  change  the  figure,  when  the  lamp  kindled  by  a  holy  life, 
 which  might  have  shone  to  posterity,  is  suffered  to  go  out." 
 
 If  Christians  in  the  ordinary  walks  of  life  need  the  stimulus 
 of  such  examples,  much  more  does  the  minister  of  the  cross. 
 He  has  his  full  portion  in  the  trials  and  discouragements,  that 
 are  common  to  all  believers  ;  and  his  mind  is  also  familiar  with 
 causes  for  "great  heaviness  and  sorrow  of  heart,"  in  which 
 they  can  but  feebly  sympathize.  In  addition  to  his  own  personal 
 security,  he  is  in  a  manner  responsible  for  that  of  his  flock. 
 Besides  working  out  his  own  salvation,  the  care  of  others'  souls 
 bears  upon  him  with  a  pressure  which  none  can  conceive  who  has 
 not  felt  its  weight.  And  when  he  has  toiled  long  and  hard,  with 
 little  or  no  visible  success,  and  is  tempted  to  exclaim,  "  It  is  a 
 vain  thing  to  serve  the  Lord  !"  or,  when  exhausted  by  continual 
 labor,  and  racked  by  bodily  infirmities,  he  is  in  danger  of  re- 
 garding himself  as  exempted  from  the  obligation  to  make  any 
 further  exertions ;  it  may  preserve  him  from  sinking,  and  stim- 
 ulate him  to  new  action,  to  know  that  his  fellow-laborers  in 
 the  kingdom  and  patience  of  Jesus  have  then  been  most 
 singularly  blessed,  when  they  thought  themselves  forsaken  ; 
 have  out  of  weakness  been  made  strong,  and,  under  the  endur- 
 ance of  great  physical  debility,  and  the  most  exquisite  mental 
 anguish,  gained  the  most  splendid  trophies  under  the  Captain 
 of  Salvation.  Can  the  "  cloud  of  witnesses  "  of  this  descriptioa 
 be  too  much  increased  for  the  "consideration  "  of  those,  who  are 
 "  wearied  and  faint  in  their  minds  ?"  Can  any,  to  whom  God 
 affords  the  opportunity,  be  excusable  in  neglecting  to  erect  an 
 additional  monument  in  the  "  temple  of  Christianity,"  and  to 
 conduct  thither  the  desponding,  though  uniformly  faithful  min- 
 ister, where  he  may  behold  "  the  names,  and  the  statues,  and 
 the  recorded  deeds,  of  the  heroes  of  the  church,  and  the  spoils 
 they  have  Avon  in  the  battles  of  the  Lord?" 
 
 It  is  with  such  views  alone,  that  the  present  work  is  attempt- 
 ed.   The  hope,  that  good  results  will  be  reahzed,  is  not  the  less 
 
EDWARD    PAY  SON. 
 
 17 
 
 confident,  because  the  materials  to  which  access  has  been  had, 
 are  of  the  least  imposing  pretensions.  It  promises  httle  of  inci- 
 dent or  adventure, — qualities  which,  with  many,  constitute  the 
 principal  attractions  of  a  book.  It  is  the  history  of  a  single 
 mind,  rather  than  of  a  community ;  of  a  pastor — whose  sphere  of 
 labor  was  chiefly  limited  to  his  parochial  charge— not  a  mis- 
 sionary, whose  "  fi.eld  is  the  world,"  and  who  has  traversed 
 seas  and  continents,  and  associated  his  own  history  with  that 
 of  diiferent  climates  and  governments,  and  opinions.  The 
 Christian  hero  will  not  here  be  presented  in  diiect  collision  with 
 the  principalities  and  powers  of  this  world,  whether  Pagan  or 
 Papal ;  but  in  an  attitude  not  less  generally  instructive — that 
 of  one  "  whose  warfare  is  within,"  and  who  successfully 
 applied  the  results  of  his  agonizing  and  joyful  experience  in 
 training, 
 
 By  every  rule 
 Of  holy  discipline,  to  glorious  war, 
 The  sacramental  host  of  God's  elect. 
 
 But  he  will  shine,  with  the  brightness  of  one  who  has  turned 
 many  to  righteousness,  in  that  world  where  the  judgment  of 
 character,  and  the  estimate  of  services,  are  according  to  truth, 
 and  not  affected  by  what  is  dazzling  in  the  stations  or  circum- 
 stances in  which  men  have  acted. 
 
 liDWARD  Payson  was  born  at  Rindge,  New  Hampshire,  July 
 ;35th,  1783.  His  father  was  the  Rev.  Seth  Payson,  D.  D., 
 pastor  of  the  church  in  Rindge,  a  man  of  piety  and  public 
 spirit,  distinguished  as  a  clergyman,  and  favorably  known  as 
 an  author.  His  mother.  Grata  Payson,  was  a  distant  relative 
 of  her  husband,  their  lineage,  after  being  traced  back  a  few  gen- 
 erations, meeting  in  the  same  stock.  To  the  Christian  fidelity  of 
 these  parents  there  is  the  fullest  testimony  in  the  subsequent 
 and  repeated  acknowledgments  of  their  son,  who  habitually 
 attributed  his  rehgious  hopes,  as  well  as  his  usefulness  in  life, 
 under  God,  to  their  instructions,  example,  and  prayers^ — espec- 
 ially those  of  his  mother.  She  appears  to  have  admitted  him 
 to  the  most  intimate,  unreserved,  and  confiding  intercourse, 
 which  was  yet  so  wisely  conducted,  as  to  strengthen  rather  than 
 diminish  his  filial  reverence ;  to  have  cherished  a  remarkable 
 
 VOL.  I.  3 
 
18 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 inquisitiveness  of  mind,  which  early  discovered  itself  in  him ; 
 and  to  have  patiently  heard  and  replied  to  the  almost  endless 
 inquiries,  which  his  early  thirst  for  knowledge  led  him  to  pro- 
 pose. His  father  was  not  less  really  and  sincerely  interested 
 for  the  welfare  of  his  son ;  but,  from  the  nature  of  the  relation, 
 and  the  calls  of  official  duty,  his  attentions  to  the  early  training 
 of  the  child  must  have  been  less  frequent,  and  his  instructions 
 hav^e  partaken  of  a  more  set  and  formal  character.  With  the 
 mother,  however,  opportunities  were  always  occurring,  and  she 
 seems  to  have  been  blessed  with  the  faculty  and  disposition  to 
 turn  them  to  the  best  advantage.  Edward's  recollections  of  her 
 extended  back  to  very  early  childhood ;  and  he  has  been  heard 
 to  say,  that  though  she  was  very  solicitous  that  he  might  be 
 liberally  educated,  and  receive  every  accomplishment,  which 
 would  increase  his  respectability  and  influence  in  the  world,  yet 
 he  could  distinctly  see,  that  the  supreme,  the  all-absorbing  con- 
 cern of  her  soul  respecting  him,  was,  that  he  might  become  a 
 child  of  God.  This  manifested  itself  in  her  discipline,  her 
 counsels,  expostulations,  and  prayers,  which  were  followed  up 
 with  a  perseverance  that  nothing  could  check.  And  they  were 
 not  in  vain.  From  the  first  development  of  his  moral  powers, 
 his  mind  was  more  or  less  affected  by  his  condition  and  pros- 
 pects as  a  sinner.  It  is  among  the  accredited  traditions  of  his 
 family,  that  he  Avas  often  known  to  weep  under  the  preaching 
 of  the  gospel,  when  only  three  years  old.  About  this  period, 
 too,  he  would  frequently  call  his  mother  to  his  bed-side  to  con- 
 verse on  religion,  and  to  answer  numerous  questions  respecting 
 his  relations  to  God  and  the  future  world.  How  long  this 
 seriousness  continued,  or  to  what  interruptions  it  was  subjected, 
 does  not  clearly  appear  ;  nor  is  much  known  as  to  the  peculiar 
 character  of  his  exerci.ses  at  that  time.  But  that  they  were  not 
 mere  transient  impressions,  seems  highly  probable  from  the  fact, 
 that,  in  subsequent  years,  his  mother  was  inclined  to  the  belief, 
 that  he  was  converted  in  childhood.  There  was  some  other 
 cause  than  maternal  partiality  for  this  opinion,  as  she  did  not 
 cherish  it  alone.  Besides,  his  intimate  friends  have  reason  for 
 believing,  that  he  never  neglected  secret  prayer  while  a  resident 
 in  his  father's  family.  The  evidences  of  his  piety,  however, 
 were,  at  this  period,  far  from  being  conclusive;  he,  at  least, 
 does  not  appear  to  have  regarded  them  as  such;  neither 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 19 
 
 were  they  so  regarded  by  his  father,  who  had  earnestly  desired 
 to  see  him  a  decided  follower  of  the  Redeemer,  before  encoun- 
 tering the  dangers  to  religious  principle  and  pure  morals,  which 
 are  sometimes  found  within  the  walls  of  a  college. 
 
 How  far  those  mental  qualities,  which  distinguished  Dr. 
 Payson's  maturity,  were  apparent  in  his  early  days,  cannot  now 
 be  known;  for,  though  he  died  comparatively  young,  his 
 parents  had  gone  before  him,  and  their  surviving  children  were 
 all  younger  than  this  son.  Strictly  speaking,  therefore,  no  com- 
 panion of  his  childhood  survives.  The  very  few  incidents 
 belonging  to  this  period  of  his  history,  which  have  escaped 
 oblivion,  though  not  adequate  to  satisfy  curiosity,  are,  on  the 
 whole,  characteristic,  and  atford  undoubted  indications,  that  his 
 well-known  decision,  enterprise,  and  perseverance,  had  dawned 
 even  in  childhood. 
 
 That  he  was  a  minute  observer  of  nature,  and  highly  suscep- 
 tible of  emotions  from  the  grand  and  beautiful  in  the  handy 
 works  of  God,  must  be  obvious  to  all  who  have  listened  to  his 
 conversation  or  his  preaching.  His  taste  for  the  sublime  very 
 early  discovered  itself.  During  a  tempest,  he  might  be  seen 
 exposed  on  the  top  of  the  fence,  or  some  other  eminence,  while 
 the  lightnings  played  and  the  thunders  rolled  around  him,  sit- 
 ting m  delightful  composure,  and  enjoying  the  sublimity  of  the 
 scene.* 
 
 He  is  said  to  have  manifested  an  early  predilection  for  arith- 
 metic; and  was  a  tolerable  proficient  in  the  art  of  reading  at  the 
 
 *Beattie's  Minstrel,  it  seems,  is  not  a  mere  creature  of  the  imagination 
 And  oft  the  craggy  chfF  he  loved  to  climb, 
 When  all  in  mist  the  world  below  was  lost. 
 What  dreadful  pleasure !  there  to  stand  sublime, 
 Like  shipwrecked  maiiner  on  desert  coast, 
 And  view  th'  enormous  waste  of  vapor,  tost 
 In  billows,  lengthening  to  th'  horizon  round, 
 Now  scooped  in  gulfs,  with  mountains  now  emboss'd ! 
 And  hear  the  voice  of  mirth  and  song  rebound, 
 Flocks,  herds,  and  waterfalls,  along  the  hoar  profound ! 
 
 In  truth,  he  was  a  strange  and  wapvard  wight, 
 Fond  of  each  gentle,  and  each  dreadful  scene. 
 Id  darkness  and  in  storm  he  found  delight 
 
20 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 age  of  four  years — an  art,  which  no  man  ever  employed  to 
 better  advantage.  The  surprising  quickness,  with  which  he 
 would  transfer  to  his  own  mind  the  contents  of  a  book,  at  a 
 time  when  a  new  book  was  a  greater  rarity  than  it  now  is, 
 threatened  to  exhaust  his  sources  of  infonnation  through  this 
 medium.  All  the  books  in  his  father's  collection,  and  the 
 "Parish  Library,"  which  were  of  a  character  suited  to  his  age 
 and  attainments,  were  read  before  he  left  the  paternal  home, 
 and  retamed  with  such  tenacity  of  memory,  as  to  be  ever  after 
 available  for  illustrating  truths,  or  enlivening  and  embellishing 
 discourse. 
 
 It  is  natural  to  inquire,  whether  there  was  anything  in  the 
 circumstances  of  his  early  youth,  which  will  account  for  his 
 mental  habits,  and  especially  the  rapidity  of  his  intellectual 
 operations.  A  partial  answer  may  be  found  in  the  fact,  that  his 
 time  was  divided  between  labor  and  study.  His  father,  like 
 most  ministers  of  country  parishes,  derived  the  means  of  sup- 
 porting his  family,  in  part,  from  a  farm,  which  his  sons  assisted 
 in  cultivating.  From  his  share  in  these  agricultural  labors  the 
 subject  of  this  Memoir  was  not  exempted,  particularly  in  the 
 "busy  seasons"  of  the  year.  But,  whatever  were  his  employ- 
 ment, though  he  appears  to  have  engaged  in  it  with  cheerful- 
 ness, and  to  have  prosecuted  it  with  fidelity,  his  thirst  for 
 knowledge  was  the  ruling  passion  of  his  soul.  This  he  sought 
 to  quench,  or  rather  to  cherish,  by  resorting  to  his  book  at  every 
 interval  from  toil,  however  short,  when  he  tasked  his  mind  to 
 the  utmost  of  its  power,  intent  on  making  the  greatest  possible 
 acquisitions  in  a  given  time.  His  mind,  though  strung  up  to  the 
 highest  pitch  of  exertion  at  these  seasons,  suffered  no  injury 
 thereby,  as  it  was  so  soon  diverted  from  its  employment  by  a 
 call  to  the  field ;  and  every  repetition  of  the  process  extended  its 
 capability  and  power.  The  acquisitions,  in  this  way  obtained, 
 furnished  materials  on  which  to  employ  his  thoughts  while  en- 
 gaged in  manual  labor,  which  he  would  not  fail  to  digest  and 
 lay  up  in  store  for  future  use, — a  voluntary  discipline  of  most 
 auspicious  influence,  as  it  respects  the  facility  of  acquiring 
 knowledge,  and  the  power  of  retaining  it. 
 
 His  early  literary,  as  well  as  moral  and  religious  education,  is 
 believed  to  have  been  conducted  principally  by  his  parents, 
 except  the  studies  preparatory  to  college,  which  were  pursued. 
 
EDWARD    P  A  YSON. 
 
 21 
 
 in  part  at  least,  at  the  Academy  in  New  Ipswich.  His  prepar- 
 atory course  was  completed  before  the  long  and  fondly-cher- 
 ished desires  of  his  father  respecting  his  personal  piety  were 
 realized.  Still  the  good  man  could  hardly  cherish  the  thought 
 of  conferring  on  his  son  the  advantages  of  a  public  education, 
 without  an  assurance,  grounded  on  evidences  of  experimental 
 religion,  that  he  would  employ  his  attainments  for  the  best  good 
 of  his  fellow  men,  and  the  glory  of  his  Maker.  With  reference 
 to  this  essential  requisite,  he  used  much  earnest  expostulation, 
 and  even  went  so  far  as  to  say  to  him,  "To  give  you  a  liberal 
 education,  while  destitute  of  religion,  would  be  like  putting  a 
 sword  into  the  hands  of  a  mad  man." 
 
 Whether  the  father  was  led  to  adopt  such  strong  language, 
 from  having  observed  in  his  son  the  existence  of  those  proper- 
 ties, which,  in  their  future  development,  were  to  give  him  such 
 power  over  his  species,  or  whether  it  proceeded  merely  from 
 anxiety  to  transfer  his  own  feelings  and  convictions  to  the  mind 
 of  his  son, — there  does  not  appear  to  have  been,  in  either  the 
 disposition  or  conduct  of  the  latter,  any  particular  cause  for 
 unusual  apprehensions  respecting  him.  His  filial  affection  and 
 conduct  had  been,  and  ever  continued  to  be,  most  exemplary,  as 
 manifested  by  his  letters  when  absent,  and  by  his  reverence  for 
 his  parents  and  cheerful  obedience  when  at  home.  His  frater- 
 nal feelings  were  kind,  and  his  conduct  towards  his  brothers 
 and  sisters  faithful  and  affectionate.  By  them  he  was  greatly 
 beloved,  and  his  vacations,  when  he  should  visit  home,  and 
 mingle  again  in  the  domestic  circle,  were  anticipated  with  de- 
 lightful interest  as  the  halcyon  days  of  their  lives.  His  moral 
 character  comes  down  to  us,  even  from  the  first,  without  a 
 blemish;  and,  by  consent  of  all,  he  sustained  the  reputation  of 
 a  magnanimous,  honorable,  generous  youth. 
 
 His  father,  as  is  obvious  from  the  event,  had  formed  no 
 peremptory  and  unalterable  purpose  to  wait  for  the  certain 
 fruits  of  personal  religion,  before  sending  him  to  college ;  and 
 the  real  cause  of  hesitancy  was,  probably,  the  tender  age  and 
 inexperience  of  the  son.  The  interval  of  his  detention  was  a 
 favorable  season  for  the  application  of  religious  motives.  As 
 such  it  was  improved  by  this  solicitous  parent,  and  not  in  vain ; 
 for  his  faithful  suggestions  and  appeals  were  afterwards  recalled 
 by  the  object  of  his  solicitude,  with  most  grateful  and  impres- 
 
22 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 sive  interest.  Young  Payson,  tliough  detained  from  college, 
 was  permitted  to  pursue  his  studies, — but  whether  exchisively, 
 or  in  connexion  with  other  employments,  does  not  appear, 
 till  he  was  fitted  to  join  the  Sophomore  class  ;  when,  all  objec- 
 tions being  waived,  he  entered  Harvard  College,  at  an  advanced 
 standing,  at  the  Commencement  in  1800,  about  the  time  he  com- 
 pleted his  seventeenth  year. 
 
 He  had  now  a  new  ordeal  to  pass — a  severe  test  for  both  his 
 talents  and  character.  Many  a  youth,  who  was  regarded  as  a 
 prodigy  of  genius  in  his  native  parish,  or  in  a  country  village, 
 and  who  anticipated  the  same  eminence  at  the  seat  of  science, 
 has  found  himself  sadly  disappointed,  in  being  obliged  to  take 
 his  rank  below  mediocrity.  Thus  it  had  nearly  fared  with 
 Payson  during  the  first  months  of  his  residence  at  college — not 
 that  he  was  destiute  of  real  worth ;  but  there  were  circumstan- 
 ces, which  prevented  that  worth  from  being  appreciated.  The 
 first  impressions  respecting  him  did  him  injustice.  "You  would 
 have  taken  him,"  says  a  classmate,  "for  an  unpolished  country 
 lad;  exceedingly  modest,  unassuming,  and  reserved  in  his  man- 
 ners. And,  as  we  generally  look  for  a  long  time  at  the  words 
 and  actions  of  a  character  through  the  same  medium  by  which 
 he  was  first  presented  to  us,  his  merit  was  for  a  long  time 
 unknown."  This  judging  from  appearances  is,  perhaps,  una- 
 voidable, tliougli  often  very  injurious.  In  the  greenness  of  his 
 youth,  Mr.  Payson's  modesty  might  easily  be  mistaken  for  bash- 
 fulness  ;  as  through  life  he  had  much  of  a  downcast  look,  hold- 
 ing his  eyes  inclined  to  the  earth,  except  when  warmly  engaged 
 in  conversation  ;  then  they  would  beam  most  expressively;  and 
 when  addressing  an  audience  from  the  pulpit,  they  would  "pry 
 through  the  portals  of  the  head,"  and  give  a  thrilling  emphasis 
 to  the  language  of  his  lips. 
 
 Mr.  Payson's  classmate,  just  quoted,  and  who  also  occupied 
 the  same  rooms  with  him  during  the  whole  period  of  his  resi- 
 dence at  college,  bears  decided  testimony  to  the  purity  of  his 
 morals,  and  the  regularity  of  his  habits,  as  well  as  other  estima- 
 ble qualities.  With  his  intimate  friends,  he  was  social,  com- 
 municative, and  peculiarly  interesting  and  improving,  and  by 
 those  who  best  knew  him,  was  much  beloved.  He  was  dis- 
 tinguished for  his  industry  ;  his  first  care  always  was  to  get  his 
 lesson,  which  engaged  him  but  a  short  time,  and  then  he  would 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 23 
 
 resume  his  reading.  He  was  invariably  prepared  to  meet  his 
 instructor,  prompt  in  reciting,  and  seldom  committed  a  mistake. 
 His  manner  of  rehearsing  was  rapid,  his  tone  of  voice  low, 
 with  a  kind  of  instinctive  shrinking  from  everything  which  had 
 the  appearance  of  display.  Hence,  for  a  f^uU  year,  his  talents 
 and  scholarship  were  underrated  by  his  associates  and  teachers 
 generally  at  college;  but  "after  having  been  with  him  a  few 
 months,  I  was  convinced  that  he  possessed  uncommon  mental 
 powers.  Others  knew  not  this,  because  they  knew  not  the 
 man.  During  the  latter  part  of  his  collegiate  course,  as  he  be- 
 came more  known,  he  rose  rapidly  in  the  estimation  of  both  the 
 government  and  his  classmates,  as  a  young  man  of  correct 
 morals,  amiable  disposition,  and  respectable  talents." 
 
 The  testimony  of  another  classmate  agrees  with  this  as  to 
 the  general  character  of  the  man,  but  is  more  discriminating 
 and  positive  in  reference  to  his  merits  as  a  scholar.  "  The  cir- 
 cumstance of  joining  his  class  at  an  advanced  standing,  com- 
 bined with  his  naturally  retiring  and  unobtrusive  manners, 
 contributed,  probably,  to  his  being  so  little  known  to  a  large 
 portion  of  his  college  contemporaries,  who  seemed  scarcely 
 aware  that  his  talents  were  of  that  high  order,  by  which  he 
 was  soon  afterwards  so  eminently  distinguished.  Yet,  even  at 
 that  early  period,  he  manifested  an  energy,  hardihood,  and  per- 
 severance of  character,  which  were  sure  indications  of  success, 
 in  whatever  course  he  might  eventually  direct  his  professional 
 pursuits.  In  the  regular  course  of  college  studies,  pursued  at 
 the  time  of  liis  residence  at  Cambridge,  he  maintained  the  rep- 
 utation of  a  respectable  scholar  in  every  branch.  Intellectual 
 and  moral  philosophy  were  more  to  his  taste  than  physical 
 science;  yet  he  sustained  a  distinguished  rank  in  the  higher 
 branches  of  the  mathematics,  as  well  as  natural  philosophy  and 
 astronomy,  at  that  time  so  unpopular,  and  so  little  under- 
 stood by  a  large  proportion  of  the  studen-ts."  This  account  of 
 his  standing  as  a  scholar  was  the  best  which  could  be  con- 
 structed from  the  information  in  the  compiler's  possession  at  the 
 time  of  preparing  the  first  edition  of  this  work ;  and  the  ac- 
 count closed  with  the  following  remark  :  "It  is  not  remembered, 
 that  there  was  any  pubhc  recognition  of  distinguished  merit  in 
 him,  at  the  time  he  commenced  Bachelor  of  Arts."  For  this 
 there  was  a  very  good  reason,  for  which  the  writer  is  indebted 
 
24 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 to  the  kindness  of  the  late  Rev.  Joseph  Emerson,  himself  a  dis- 
 tinguished scholar,  and  eminent  teacher,  and  who  was  actually 
 the  Tutor  of  Mr.  Payson's  class,  during  their  Junior  and  Senior 
 years.  Mr.  E.  without  any  hesitation  assigned  Mr.  Payson"s 
 rank  among  the  first  quarter  of  his  class,  and  sustained  his  own 
 judgment,  by  quoting  that  of  another  clergyman,  whose  com- 
 petency to  give  an  opinion  on  the  question  is  beyond  all  dispute. 
 This  clergyman,  who  was  also  a  classmate  of  Payson,  is  confi- 
 dent that  a  forensic  disputation,  a  very  honorable  part,  was 
 assigned  to  the  latter  for  performance  at  Commencement,  which 
 failed  in  consequence  of  the  indisposition  of  his  much  respected 
 associate,  since  the  Rev.  Dr.  . 
 
 Mr.  E.,  moreover,  thouglit  it  injurious  to  the  cause  of  literary 
 improvement,  that  the  pupilage  of  such  a  man  as  Dr.  Payson 
 should  be  represented  as  manifesting  no  more  than  ordinary 
 scholarship ;  and  not  being  accordant  with  fact,  the  representa- 
 tion is  equally  injurious  to  his  memory.  As  far  as  a  pretty  ex- 
 tensive observation  has  enabled  me  to  judge,  continues  Mr.  E., 
 the  college-standing  of  students  is,  in  general,  a  good  index  of 
 their  respectability  the  rest  of  their  days. 
 
 The  reputation  of  being  "a  great  reader,"  as  the  phrase  is 
 often  applied,  is  a  very  undesirable  distinction  ;  it  is  one,  how- 
 ever, which  Mr.  Payson  bore  in  common  with  thousands,  who 
 are  not  the  wiser  for  their  reading.  His  frequent  resort  to  the 
 college  library  was  a  theme  of  raillery  with  his  fellow  students, 
 who,  at  one  time,  represented  him  as  having  "a  machine  to 
 turn  over  the  leaves ;"  and  at  another,  as  "  having  left  off  taking 
 out  books,  because  he  had  read  all  the  thousands  in  the  alcoves 
 of  old  Harvard."  Ridicule,  in  his  case,  was  egregiously  misap- 
 plied ;  for,  says  his  constant  companion  in  the  study  and  in  the 
 dormitory,  "every  thing  he  read,  he  made  his  own.  He  had  the 
 strongest  and  most  tenacious  memory  I  ever  knew.  It  is  truly 
 astonishing  with  what  rapidity  he  could  read;  how  soon  he 
 could  devour  a  large  volume,  and  yet  give  the  most  particular 
 and  accurate  account  of  its  contents."  Testimonies  of  the 
 same  kind  might  be  multiplied,  and  confirmed  by  many  anec- 
 dotes, which  to  a  stranger  would  appear  incredible,  illustrating 
 the  power  of  this  faculty,  and  the  severity  of  those  tests  to 
 which  it  Avas  subjected. 
 
CHAPTEE  II. 
 
 Comprising  a  period  of  three  years  from  the  time  of  his  leaving  college. 
 
 Mr.  Payson  was  graduated  at  Harvard  University,  at  the 
 commencement  in  1803.  Soon  after  leaving  college,  he  was  on 
 recommendation,  particularly  of  Professors  Tappan  and  Pearson, 
 engaged  to  take  charge  of  the  academy  then  recently  establish- 
 ed in  Portland.  He  continued  in  this  office  for  three  years,  at 
 the  close  of  which  he  was,  by  the  terms  of  his  contract,  at  lib- 
 erty to  resign  it.  Of  this  liberty  his  new  views  of  duty,  at  the 
 time,  disposed  him  to  avail  himself. 
 
 An  employment,  which  requires  the  daily  repetition  of  nearly 
 the  same  routine  of  duties,  cannot  be  very  prolific  in  incident, 
 or  very  favorable  to  the  development  of  those  qualities,  which 
 attract  the  public  eye.  Nor  is  it  an  employment  in  which  real 
 worth  is  likely  to  be  appreciated,  except  by  a  very  few ;  though 
 the  subject  of  this  Memoir  is  not  thought  to  have  had  any  spec- 
 ial cause  of  complaint,  as  to  the  estimation  in  which  his  servi- 
 ces were  held.  He  acquired  and  sustained  a  good  reputation  as 
 an  instructor ;  but  from  a  man  possessing  his  characteristics, 
 something  more  would  naturally  be  expected.  He  was  certainly 
 endued  with  a  rare  faculty  for  communicating  knowledge,  and 
 with  a  power  to  awaken,  and  call  into  action,  the  mental  ener- 
 gies of  either  youth  or  manhood.  In  the  exisiing  methods  of 
 education,  however,  there  was  much  to  obstruct  the  exercise  of 
 this  power.  The  instructor,  who  should  do  much  more  than 
 follow  the  order  and  manner  of  the  text-books  then  in  use, 
 would  probably  have  been  regarded  as  an  empiric  ;  besides,  tho 
 
 VOL.  I.  4 
 
26 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 habits  of  society  were  then  opposed,  more  than  they  have  been 
 since,  to  every  thing  which  bore  the  appearance  of  innovation. 
 His  native  diffidence,  also,  Avould  have  operated  as  a  powerful 
 restraint  against  venturing  on  any  bold  experiments  in  a  sphere 
 of  action  and  duty,  in  whicli,  judging  from  the  character  and 
 attainments  of  many  who  had  filled  it,  little  improvement  was  to 
 be  expected. 
 
 At  this  period,  he  was  but  a  youth ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  sup- 
 posed, that  he  engaged  in  the  business  of  instruction,  and  pros- 
 ecuted it  with  that  all-absorbing  interest  and  determination  of 
 purpose,  which  distinguished  his  ministerial  career.  It  is,  to 
 say  the  least,  extremely  doubtful,  whether  he  had  felt  the  influ- 
 ence on  human  exertion  of  that  principle,  which  is  indispensable 
 to  man's  highest  achievements  —  doing  all  to  the  glory  of  God. 
 As  it  was,  he  is  remembered  by  surviving  pupils  with  gratitude, 
 respect,  and  even  veneration.  He  has  left,  as  will  be  seen,  suf- 
 ficient evidence  of  his  deep  solicitude  for  their  moral  and  relig» 
 ious  welfare,  from  the  time  at  which  he  was  comfortably  assured 
 of  his  own  "acceptance  in  the  Beloved." 
 
 It  Avon  Id  seem,  from  some  allusions  in  his  sermons,  as  well  as 
 from  hints  derived  from  other  sources,  that,  during  the  early 
 part  of  his  residence  in  Portland,  he  indidged  himself  in  such 
 amusements  as  were  fashionable,  or  were  considered  reputable, 
 and  that,  too,  with  a  gust  as  exquisite  as  their  most  hearty  dev- 
 otee—  how  frequently,  or  to  what  extent,  the  writer  is  ignorant. 
 This  practice,  if  it  were  more  than  occasional,  would  indicate  a 
 relish  for  social  pleasures,  in  the  usual  sense  of  the  expression, 
 which  did  not  long  continue ;  for  after  his  seriousness  became 
 habitual,  he  was  averse  to  going  into  company,  even  to  a  fault. 
 He  dreaded  an  invitation  to  a  social  party,  though  he  had  rea- 
 son to  expect  nothing  there  directly  offensive  to  religious  feelings. 
 But  there  were  companions,  whose  society  he  sought,  and  whose 
 intercourse  was  so  regulated  as  to  subserve  mutual  improve- 
 ment. They  were  select  literary  friends,  some  of  them  his 
 classmates,  whose  fellowship  was  in  a  high  degree  intimate  and 
 endearing.  With  these  he  passed  many  pleasant  and  profitable 
 hours,  and  cemented  a  friendship,  which  continued  till  death, 
 and  which  has  been  faithfully  reciprocated  by  the  surviving 
 members  of  the  little  band,  and  continues  to  exhibit  itself  in 
 unfeigned  respect  for  his  precious  memory.    The  exercises  of 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 27 
 
 these  meetings  were  not  subjected  to  any  very  rigid  and  formal 
 regulations,  such  as  would  have  cramped  the  energies  of  the 
 mind,  or  restrained  even  its  wilder  sallies.  Mutual  confidence 
 was  the  bond  of  union,  which  no  severity  of  retort  or  piquancy 
 of  raillery  could  sunder.  Each  brought  forward  the  results  of 
 his  reading  or  invention,  and  exercised  his  powers  at  discussion 
 or  free  conversation  ;  and,  by  this  '•  action  of  mind  upon  mind," 
 the  most  brilliant  flashes  of  wit  were  often  struck  from  one  so 
 full  charged,  and  so  quick  at  combination,  as  Payson's,  to  the 
 no  small  entertainment  of  his  companions.  Of  these  intellectual 
 banquets,  his  contributions  were  the  most  coveted  and  exquisite 
 portion. 
 
 But  no  distance,  employment,  or  friendships,  could  weaken 
 his  attachment  to  the  paternal  home,  or  diminish  the  strength 
 of  his  filial  love.  Some  extracts  from  his  letters  will  now  be 
 given,  which,  while  they  exhibit  the  son  and  the  brother  in  the 
 most  amiable  light,  will  serve  also  to  illustrate  some  d  his  in- 
 tellectual qualities.  They  are  addressed  to  his  "ever  dear  and 
 honored  parents." 
 
 "Portland,  May  20,  1804. 
 "It  is  not  the  least  among  the  distressing  circumstances  at- 
 tending the  late  afflicting  dispensation  of  Providence,  that  I  am 
 unable  in  person  to  share  in  your  grief,  and  alleviate,  by  filial 
 sympathy  and  affection,  the  keenness  of  your  sorrow.  1  would 
 fain  attempt  to  afford  you  some  consolation ;  but  the  only  sour- 
 ces, whence  it  can  be  derived,  are  already  your  own.  I  can 
 only  say  for  myself — it  shall  ever  be  my  endeavor,  that,  so  far 
 as  my  exertions  can  avail,  you  shall  not  feel  his  loss  ;  and  that 
 we,  who  remain,  will  strive  to  fill,  by  our  increased  duty,  rev- 
 erence, and  affection,  the  cruel  void  thus  made  in  your  happi- 
 ness." 
 
 "January  14,  1805. 
 "  I  congratulate  you  both  on  the  welcome  news,  which  my 
 sister  gave  me,  of  your  amended  health  and  spirits.  Mine,  I 
 feel,  flow  with  double  rapidity,  since  I  received  her  letter.  I 
 witness,  in  fancy,  the  happiness  of  home,  and  long  to  partici- 
 pate and  increase  it ;  but  for  the  present  must  be  content  with 
 rejoicing  alone.  I  cannot  possibly  plead  guilty  to  the  charge  of 
 'not  thinking  of  home,  so  often  as  home  does  of  me.'  On  the 
 contrary,  I  believe  home  has  very  little  due  on  that  score,  if  we 
 
28 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 consider  the  frequency  and  not  the  value  of  the  thoughts.  But^ 
 my  dear  parents,  if  a  few  of  those  thoughts  could  be  embodied 
 on  paper,  and  sent  me,  how  much  more  good  they  would  do, 
 and  how  much  more  pleasure  they  would  communicate,  than  if 
 they  were  to  remain  in  their  native  place  ! 
 
 "I  am  still  without  an  assistant,  and,  as  the  number  of  stu- 
 dents has  been  increased,  my  task  is  very  laborious.  However, 
 I  shall  soon  be  supplied.  Just  now  I  was  interrupted.  It  was 
 my  assistant.  He  is  young  and  raw ;  but  so  much  the  better. 
 He  will  not  render  me  small  by  comparison. 
 
 "  I  had  a  pleasant  vacation.  All  of  my  classmates,  who  are 
 in  the  district,  five  in  number,  met  at  the  house  of  one  of  them. 
 The  recollection  of  past  scenes  was,  as  Ossian  says,  'pleasant 
 and  mournful  to  the  soul.'  There  is,  however,  very  little  satis- 
 faction in  recalhng  past  pleasures  to  mind;  that  is,  what  is  gen- 
 erally called  pleasure." 
 
 "  September  8,  1805. 
 
 "  The  distress  I  felt  at  parting  with  you  was  soon  banished 
 by  the  garrulity  of  my  companion,  whose  chattering  tongue  for 
 once  afforded  me  pleasure,  and,  besides,  freed  me  from  the  ne- 
 cessity of  talking,  for  which  I  felt  not  very  well  qualified. 
 I  once  thought  it  was  impossible  for  my  filial  affection  to 
 be  increased ;  but  the  kindness  which  first  gave  birth  to 
 it  increases  every  visit  I  make,  and  that  must  increase 
 it.  Were  others  blessed  with  friends  like  mine,  how  much 
 greater  would  be  the  sum  of  virtue  and  happiness  on  earth, 
 than  we  have  reason  to  fear  it  is  at  present.  Why  cannot 
 other  parents  learn  your  art  of  mixing  the  friend  with  the  pa- 
 rent? of  joining  friendship  to  filial  affection,  and  of  conciliating 
 love,  without  losing  respect  ? — an  art  of  more  importance  to  so- 
 ciety and  more  difficult  to  learn, — at  least,  if  we  may  judge  by 
 the  rareness  with  which  it  is  found, — than  any  other ;  and  an 
 art,  v/hich  you,  my  dear  parents,  certainly  have  in  perfection. 
 
 "  We  had  a  tolerably  pleasant  journey,  and  were  received 
 
 with  kindness  by  Mrs.  ,  and  with  politeness,  at  least,  by 
 
 the  rest  of  the  family.  After  the  others  were  retired.  Col.  
 
 kept  me  up  till  past  eleven,  explaining,  as  well  as  I  could,  the 
 difference  between  the  various  sects  of  religion,  especially  be- 
 tween Arminians  and  Calvinists.  *  *  * 
 
 "  We  had  a  long  passage,  but  met  with  no  accident,  except 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 29 
 
 that  I  carried  away  my  hat — to  use  a  sea-phrase — that  is,  the 
 wind  carried  it  away,  and,  there  being  no  one  on  board  that 
 would  fit  me,  I  was  two  days  on  the  water  exposed  to  a  burn- 
 ing snn,  without  sheUer  ;  in  consequence,  my  face  was  scorched 
 pretty  severely." 
 
 "  September  20,  1805. 
 
 "  I  sadly  suspect  that  this  plan  of  numbering  my  epistles  will 
 prove  your  deficiency,  and  my  attention,  in  a  manner  very  hon- 
 orable to  myself,  and  not  very  much  so  to  my  good  friends  at 
 home.  This  is  my  fourth,  and  not  one  have  I  received,  nor  do  I 
 expect  one  this  long  time.  However,  I  say  not  this  by  way  of 
 complaint.  Your  kindness,  when  I  was  at  home,  proved  your 
 affection  beyond  a  doubt ;  and  if  I  should  not  receive  one  letter 
 this  year,  I  should  have  no  right  to  complain.  Yet,  though  not 
 of  right,  I  may  of  favor  entreat  for  a  few  occasional  tokens  of 
 remembrance.  I  have  as  yet  scarcely  recovered  from  the  infla- 
 tion and  pride  your  goodness  occasioned.  The  attention  I 
 received  led  me  to  suppose  myself  a  person  of  no  small  conse- 
 quence ;  however,  a  month's  dieting  on  cold  civihty  and  formal 
 politeness  will,  I  hope,  reduce  me  to  my  former  size.  In  the 
 mean  time,  I  am  convinced  that  my  situation  here  is  not  so 
 much  worse  than  any  other  as  I  imagined." 
 
 The  following  letter  describes  a  scene  in  a  stage-coach. 
 Those  who  have  witnessed  the  writer's  unequalled  command  of 
 language,  and  power  to  accumulate  facts  and  imagery  to  give  it 
 effect,  will  most  readily  conceive  of  the  overwhelming  torrent  of 
 satire,  which  he  must  have  poured  forth  on  the  occasion  de- 
 scribed. Travellers  have  often  brought  themselves  into  a  highly 
 mortifying  dilemma  by  allowing  free  license  to  their  tongues 
 among  strangers.  It  was  happy  for  the  hero  in  this  adventure, 
 that  he  expended  his  forces  upon  a  legitimate  subject  of  raillery. 
 
 "  Portland,  Oct.  8,  1805. 
 "  My  dearest  father  : — In  hopes  of  rescuing  you  one  mo- 
 ment from  the  crowd  of  cares  and  occupations  which  surround 
 you,  I  will  give  you  an  anecdote  of  my  journey ;  and  if  you 
 condescend  to  smile  over  it,  why,  so  much  the  better.  When 
 seated  in  a  company  of  strange  phizzes,  I  immediately  set  my- 
 self to  decipher  them,  and  assign  a  character  and  occupation  to 
 the  owner  of  each.    But  in  the  stage  which  conveyed  us  to 
 
30 
 
 M  E  M  O I K  OF 
 
 B*****,  there  was  one  which  completely  puzzled  me.  I  could 
 think  of  no  employment  that  Avould  fit  it,  except  that  of  a 
 *******  representative,  unless  it  was  that  of  a  **********^ 
 whose  pride,  being  confined  in  B.  by  the  pressure  of  wealth  and 
 talents,  had  now  room  to  expand  itself  A  certain  kind  of  con- 
 sequential gravity  and  pompous  solemnity,  together  with  his 
 dress,  might  perhaps  have  impressed  us  with  respect,  had  not  a 
 pair  of  rough,  callous  hands,  with  crooked,  dirty  nails,  lessened 
 their  effect.  During  a  pause  in  the  conversation,  he  presented 
 me  with  a  paper,  which,  on  examination,  I  found  to  be  one  of 
 those  quack  advertisements,  which  Mr.  ****  has  honored  with 
 his  signature.  Not  suspecting,  in  the  least,  that  the  good  gentle- 
 man had  any  concern  in  the  business,  and  feeling  a  fine  flow  of 
 words  at  hand,  I  began  to  entertain  my  fellow  travellers  Avith  its 
 numerous  beauties  of  expression,  spelling,  and  grammar.  Find- 
 ing them  very  attentive,  and  encouraged  by  their  applause,  I 
 next  proceeded  to  irtter  a  most  violent  philippic  against  quacks 
 of  all  denominations,  especially  those  who  go  about  poisoning 
 the  ignorant  with  patent  medicines.  I  could  not  help  observing, 
 however,  that  my  eloquence,  Avhile  it  had  a  powerful  effect  on 
 the  muscles  of  the  rest  of  my  companions,  seemed  to  be  thrown 
 away  on  this  gentleman  aforesaid.  But  concluding  that  his 
 gravity  proceeded  from  a  wish  to  keep  up  his  dignity,  I  resolved 
 to  conquer  it ;  and  commenced  a  fresh  attack,  in  which,  address- 
 ing myself  entirely  to  him,  I  poured  forth  all  the  ridicule  and 
 abuse  which  my  own  imagination  could  suggest,  or  memory 
 could  .supply.  But  all  in  vain.  The  more  animated  and  witty 
 I  was,  the  more  doleful  he  looked,  till,  having  talked  myself  out 
 of  breath,  and  finding  the  longitude  of  his  face  increase  every 
 moment,  I  desisted,  very  much  mortified  that  my  efforts  were 
 so  unsuccessful.  But,  in  the  midst  of  my  chagrin,  the  coach 
 stopped,  the  gentleman  alighted,  and  was  welcomed  by  a  little 
 squab  wife  into  a  shop  decorated  with  the  letters,  "  Medical 
 Cordial  Store."  I  afterwards  learnt  he  is  the  greatest  quack- 
 medicine  seller  in  B.  Excuse  me,  my  dear  father,  for  this  long, 
 dull  story.  I  thought  it  would  be  shorter.  I  feel  rather  out  of 
 tune  for  embellishing  to-day. 
 
 "  We  have  lately  been  in  a  hubbub  here  about  a  theatre. 
 After  a  great  deal  of  dispute,  the  town  voted,  to  the  astonish- 
 ment of  all,  that  they  would  not,  if  they  could  help  it,  suffer  the 
 
E  D  W  A  K  D    P  A  Y  S  0  N . 
 
 31 
 
 establishment  of  a  theatre.  One  man  said,  and  said  publicly, 
 that  he  considered  it  as  much  a  duty  to  carry  his  children  to  a 
 play-house,  as  he  did  to  carry  them  to  meeting,  and  that  they 
 got  more  good  by  it.  Among  the  arguments  in  favor,  it  was 
 asserted,  that,  though  bad  plays  were  sometimes  acted,  bad  ser- 
 mons were  likewise  preached,  and  that  the  pulpit  ought  to  he 
 pulled  down  as  much  as  the  theatre. — Adieu,  my  dear  father, 
 and  believe  me  your  most  affectionate  son, 
 
 Edward  Payson." 
 
 "  October  29,  1805. 
 "I  must,  my  dear  mother,  give  you  some  account  of  my 
 comforts.  In  the  first  place,  I  have  a  very  handsome  chamber, 
 which  commands  a  delightful  view  of  the  harbor,  and  the  town, 
 with  the  adjacent  country.  This  chamber  is  sacred ;  for  even 
 the  master  of  the  house  does  not  enter  it  without  express  invita- 
 tion. At  sunrise,  a  servant  comes  and  lights  up  a  fire,  which 
 soon  induces  me  to  rise,  and  I  have  nothing  to  do,  but  sit  down 
 to  study.  When  I  come  from  school  at  night,  I  find  a  fire  built, 
 jack  and  slippers  ready,  a  lamp  as  soon  as  it  is  dark,  and  fuel 
 sufficient  for  the  evening.  An  agreement  with  a  neighboring 
 bookseller  furnishes  me  with  books  in  plenty  and  variety.  The 
 objection  to  our  meals  is,  they  are  too  good,  and  consist  of  too 
 great  a  variety.  And  what  gives  a  zest  to  all,  without  which  it 
 Avould  be  insipid,  is,  that  I  can  look  round  me,  and  view  all 
 these  comforts  as  the  effects  of  infinite,  unmerited  goodness  ;  of 
 goodness,  the  operations  of  which  I  can  trace  through  all  my 
 past  life  ;  of  goodness,  which  I  humbly  hope  and  trust  will  con- 
 tinue to  bless  me,  through  all  my  future  existence." 
 
 November  18,  1805. 
 "  My  dear  mother, — I  last  night  witnessed  a  scene,  to  whicli 
 I  had  before  been  a  stranger;  it  was  a  death-bed  scene.  A 
 young  gentleman  of  my  acquaintance,  and  nearly  of  my  own 
 age,  had  been  confined  thirty-two  days,  and  I  was  requested  to 
 watch  with  him  ;  and  a  more  exquisitely  distressing  task  I  hope 
 never  to  undertake.  When  I  went,  there  was  little,  if  any, 
 hope  of  his  life.  His  mother — whose  favorite  he  deservedly 
 Avas — though  she  is,  I  believe,  a  sincere  Christian,  seemed  una 
 ble  to  support  the  idea  of  a  separation.    Fatigue  and  loss  of 
 
32 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 sleep  made  her  lightheaded ;  and,  at  times,  she  raved  almost  as 
 badly  as  the  patient.  His  sister,  a  gay,  thoughtless  girl,  was  iu 
 a  paroxysm  of  loud  and  turbulent  grief ;  while  a  young  lady, 
 whom  he  was  expecting  to  marry,  heightened  the  distress  by 
 marks  of  anguish  too  strong  to  be  concealed,  and  which  seemed 
 to  flow  from  tenderness  equal  to  any  thing  I  have  met  with  in 
 romance.  As  I  had  seen  nothmg  of  the  kind  before,  its  effects 
 on  my  feelings  were  irresistible.  The  perpetual  groans  and 
 ravings  of  the  dying — whose  head  I  was  for  hours  obliged  to 
 support  w^ith  one  hand,  while  I  wiped  off  the  sweat  of  death 
 with  the  other;  the  inarticulate  expressions  of  anguish,  mingled 
 with  prayers,  of  the  mother  ;  the  loud  and  bitter  lamentations 
 of  the  sister ;  the  stifled  agonies  of  the  young  lady,  and  the 
 cries  of  the  younger  branches  of  the  family,  (the  father  was 
 asleep!)  formed  a  combination  of  sounds  which  I  could  scarcely 
 support.  Add  to  this  the  frightful  contortions  and  apparent 
 agonies  of  the  poor  sufferer,  with  all  the  symptoms  of  approach- 
 ing death.  About  two  o'clock,  he  died.  1  then  had  the  no  less 
 difllcult  and  painful  task  of  endeavoring  to  quiet  the  family. 
 The  mother,  when  convinced  he  Avas  certainly  dead,  became 
 composed,  and,  with  much  persuasion  and  some  force,  was  pre- 
 vailed upon  to  take  her  bed,  as  were  the  rest  of  the  family,  ex- 
 cept the  young  lady. 
 
 "I  had  then  to  go  half  a  mile  for  a  person  to  assist  in  laying 
 out  the  corpse,  in  as  bitter  a  storm  as  ever  blew ;  and,  after  this 
 was  done,  watched  with  it  the  remainder  of  the  niglit.  You 
 will  not  wonder  if  I  feel,  to-day,  exhausted  in  body  and  mind. 
 Surely  there  is  no  torture  like  seeing  distress  without  the  ability 
 of  removing  it.  All  day  have  I  heard  the  dying  groans  sound- 
 ing in  my  ears.  I  could  not  have  believed  it  possible,  that  any 
 thing  could  take  such  astonishing  hold  of  the  mind  ;  and,  unless 
 you  can  remember  the  first  death  you  ever  witnessed,  you  can 
 never  conceive  how  it  affected  me.  But,  distressing  as  it  was, 
 I  Avould  not  for  any  thing  have  been  absent.  I  hope  it  will  be 
 of  service  to  me.  It  is  better  to  go  to  the  house  of  mourning 
 than  to  the  house  of  mirth.  Grief  has  a  strong  tendency  to 
 soften  the  heart,  and  dispose  it  to  gratitude  and  other  affections. 
 An  instance  of  this  I  saw  in  this  family.  They  are  so  grateful 
 to  me  for — I  don't  know  what — that  they  seem  unable  to  thank 
 me  enough." 
 
EDWARD    PAY  SON. 
 
 33 
 
 "  January  25,  1806. 
 
 "  1  had  a  letter  from  ******  last  evening.  He  is  in  the 
 West  Indies,  and  has  just  recovered  from  a  fever.  His  letter  is 
 more  friendly  than  any  I  have  received,  but  it  is  not  so  serious 
 as  I  wish.  You  prophesied,  when  I  was  at  home,  that  our 
 friendship  would  not  last  long;  but  since  it  has  survived  a  visit 
 to  the  Cataract  of  Niagara,  to  Saratoga  Springs,  and  a  voyage 
 to  the  West  Indies,  it  is  something  of  a  proof  that  many  waters 
 cannot  quench,  neither  floods  drown  it. 
 
 "  A  classmate,  who  has  commenced  preaching,  called  last 
 week  to  see  me.  Speaking  of  an  old  tutor  of  ours,  a  very  pious 
 man,  who  has  lately  lost  a  much  loved  wife,  he  mentioned  a 
 letter  written  by  him  while  the  bell  was  tolling  for  her  funeral, 
 in  which  he  says,  '  The  bell  is  now  tolling  for  my  wife's 
 funeral;  yet  I  am  happy,  happy  beyond  expression.'  This 
 my  classmate  considered  as  a  sure  proof  of  a  very  weak  or  very 
 insensible  mind.  It  is  needless  to  add,  that  he  is  an  Arminian. 
 I  daily  see  more  occasion  to  be  convinced,  that  the  Calvinistic 
 scheme  is,  must  be  right,  but  I  cannot  wonder  so  few  embrace 
 it.  So  long  as  the  reasonings  of  the  head  continue  to  be  influ- 
 enced by  the  feelings  of  the  heart,  the  majority  will  reject  it." 
 
 "  February  9,  1806. 
 "  You  need  be  under  no  apprehension,  my  dear  mother,  that 
 my  present  mode  of  living  will  render  the  manner  of  living  in 
 the  most  rustic  parish  disagreeable.  On  the  contrary,  I  shall  be 
 glad  of  the  exchange,  as  it  respects  diet ;  for  I  find  it  no  easy 
 matter  to  sit  down  to  a  table  profusely  spread  with  dainties,  and 
 eat  no  more  than  nature  requires  and  temperance  allows.  And 
 I  should  take  infinitely  more  satisfaction  in  the  conversation  of 
 a  plain,  unlettered  Christian,  than  in  the  unmeaning  tattle  of 
 the  drawing  room,  or  the  flippant  vivacity  of  professed  wits. 
 What  gives  me  most  uneasiness,  and  what  I  fear  will  always 
 be  a  thorn  in  my  path,  is,  too  great  a  thirst  for  applause.  When 
 I  sit  down  to  write,  I  perpetually  catch  myself  considering,  not 
 what  will  be  most  useful,  but  what  will  be  most  likely  to  gain 
 praise  from  an  audience.  If  I  should  be  unpopular,  it  would,  I 
 fear,  give  me  more  imeasiness  than  it  ought ;  and  if — though  I 
 think  there  is  Uttle  reason  to  fear  it — I  should  in  any  degree  be 
 acceptable,  what  a  terrible  blaze  it  would  make  in  my  bosom ! 
 
 VOL.  I.  5 
 
34 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 What  a  temptation  this  disposition  -will  be  to  suppress,  or 
 hghtly  touch  upon,  those  doctrines  which  are  most  important, 
 because  they  are  disagreeable  to  most  persons !  I  should  at 
 once  give  up  in  despair,  had  I  nothing  but  my  own  philosophy 
 to  depend  on;  but  I  hope  and  trust  I  shall  be  enabled  to 
 conquer  it. 
 
 "If  you  knew  the  many  things  which  rendered  it  unlikely 
 that  I  should  continue  here  half  so  long  as  I  have,  you  would 
 join  with  me  in  thinking  an  overruling  Providence  very  visible 
 in  the  whole  affair.  With  respect  to  continuing  longer,  I  do  not 
 mean  to  form  a  single  plan  on  the  subject.  If  I  know  any 
 thing  of  my  own  heart,  I  can  appeal  to  God  as  a  witness  of  my 
 earnest  desire  to  be  in  the  situation  where  he  sees  best  to  place 
 me,  without  any  regard  to  its  being  agreeable  or  disagreeable  ; 
 and  he  can,  and,  I  doubt  not,  will,  order  matters  so  as  to  shorten 
 or  prolong  my  stay  here  as  he  pleases.'" 
 
 "Jantjary  15,  1806. 
 "If  you,  my  dear  Mother,  can  pick  out  the  meaning  in  the 
 last  page,  I  shall  be  glad  ;  for  in  truth  it  is  but  poorly  expressed. 
 You  must  have  observed,  that  my  letters  are  very  obscure  ;  that 
 the  transitions  from  one  subject  to  another  are  rapid  and  capri- 
 cious. The  reason  of  this  confusion  is, — when  I  sit  down  to 
 write,  forty  ideas  jump  at  once,  all  equally  eager  to  get  out, 
 and  jostle  and  incommode  each  other  at  such  a  rate,  that  not 
 the  most  proper,  but  the  strongest,  escapes  first.  My  mind 
 would  fain  pour  itself  all  out,  at  once,  on  the  paper ;  but,  the 
 pen  being  rather  too  small  a  passage,  **********, 
 ************.  So  much  by  way  of  apology,  by 
 which,  as  is  usually  the  case  with  apologies,  I  have  only  made 
 bad  worse." 
 
 "April  2,  1S06. 
 "My  dear  Mother, — I  have  just  received  your  last  paquet, 
 and  am  so  rejoiced  I  can  hardly  sit  still  enough  to  write. 
 They  were  not  half  long  enough  to  satiate  me,  and  I  am 
 more  hungry  than  before.  Yesterday,  in  order  to  appease  my 
 hunger,  I  read  over  all  the  letters  I  have  received  this  year 
 past,  to  my  great  satisfaction.  You  must  not  expect  method 
 nor  legible  writing.  These  qualifications  are  necessary  in  a 
 billet  of  compliments,  but  in  a  letter  to  friends,  I  despise 
 
EDWARDPAYSON.  35 
 
 them.  However,  if  my  good  friends  are  fond  of  them,  and  pre- 
 fer them  to  the  rapid  effusions  of  affection  that  Avill  hardly 
 wait  the  pen's  motion,  I  will  soon  write  a  letter  that  shall  be  as 
 cold  and  as  splendid  as  an  ice-palace.  You  may  usually  ob- 
 serve my  hand-writing  is  much  better  at  the  beginning  than 
 at  the  end  of  my  letters ;  and  this  happens  because  I  gather 
 warmth  as  I  write.  A  letter  to  a  friend,  written  with  exact  care, 
 is  like — '  Madam,  I  hope  I  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  in 
 very  good  health,' — addressed  to  a  mother,  on  meeting  her  after 
 a  year's  absence. 
 
 "  I  did  not  recollect,  that  I  made  use  of  a  billet  to  enclose  my 
 letters.  However,  I  suppose  it  did  just  as  Avell.  Pray  give  my 
 love  to  Phillips,  (with  the  rest  of  the  dear  clan,)  and  tell  him, 
 that,  instead  of  being  a  sign  of  poverty,  it  is  the  surest  way  to 
 he  rich,  to  save  even  the  cover  of  a  letter ;  besides,  I  have 
 papa's  authority  for  using  billets  in  that  way." 
 
 These  extracts  show  how  he  appreciated  the  relations  of  son 
 and  brother,  and  how  just  he  was  to  all  the  claims  which  these 
 relations  involve.  His  filial  affection  is  among  the  loveliest 
 traits  in  his  character,  and  it  never  suffered  any  abatement,  so 
 long  as  he  had  a  parent  to  love.  He  continued  to  appropriate, 
 unasked,  and  of  choice,  the  excess  of  his  earnings  above  his  • 
 expenditures,  to  the  use  of  his  parents,  till  the  whole  amount 
 expended  for  his  education  had  been  reimbiu'sed.  By  word  and 
 deed,  in  the  thousand  ways  which  affection  suggests,  he  sought 
 their  comfort  and  happiness. 
 
 It  was  not  till  the  third  year  of  his  residence  in  Portland, 
 that  he  made  his  first  appearance  before  a  popular  assembly. 
 On  the  4th  of  July,  1806,  at  the  request  of  the  miniicipal 
 authorities  of  the  town,  he  pronounced  the  anniversary  oration, 
 a  performance  which  secured  him  unbounded  applause,  and 
 which  he  was  solicited,  with  great  earnestness,  to  allow  to  be 
 published ;  but  no  persuasion  could  induce  him  to  give  a  copy. 
 This  production  is  eminently  rich  in  imagery,  and  generally 
 in  sound  political  views.  He  shared,  with  many  Avise  and  good 
 men,  serious  apprehensions  for  the  result  of  the  experiment 
 making  in  our  own  country,  whether  a  free  government  can  be 
 perpetuated.  Those  who  recollect  the  circumstances  of  oui 
 country  at  that  time,  well  know  that  there  were  many  reasons 
 
36 
 
 MEMOIR  OP 
 
 for  doubt ;  and  that,  in  the  view  of  all,  an  important  crisis  was 
 approaching,  which  will  account  for,  if  not  justify  the  coloring 
 in  the  following  picture  :  — 
 
 "  The  vessel  of  our  republic,  driven  by  the  gales  of  faction, 
 and  hurried  still  faster  by  the  secret  current  of  luxury  and  vice, 
 is  following  the  same  course,  and  fast  approaching  the  same 
 rocks,  which  have  proved  fatal  to  so  many  before  us.  Already 
 may  we  hear  the  roaring  of  the  surge ;  already  do  we  begin  to 
 circle  roiuid  the  vortex  which  is  soon  to  ingulf  us.  Yet  we 
 see  no  danger.  In  vain  does  experience  offer  us  the  wisdom 
 of  past  ages  for  our  direction  :  in  vain  does  the  genius  of  histo- 
 ry spread  her  chart,  and  point  out  the  ruin  towards  which  we 
 are  advancing :  in  vain  do  the  ghosts  of  departed  governments, 
 lingering  round  the  rocks  on  which  they  perished,  warn  us 
 of  our  approaching  fate,  and  eagerly  strive  to  temfy  us  from 
 our  course.  It  seems  to  be  an  immutable  law  of  our  nature, 
 that  nations,  as  well  as  individuals,  shall  learn  Avisdom  by  no 
 experience  but  their  own.  That  blind,  that  accursed  infatua- 
 tion, which  ever  appears  to  govern  mankind  when  their  most 
 important  interests  are  concerned,  leads  us,  in  defiance  of 
 reason,  experience,  and  common  sense,  to  flatter  ourselves, 
 .  that  the  same  causes  which  have  proved  fatal  to  all  other 
 governments,  will  lose  their  pernicious  tendency  when  exerted 
 on  our  own." 
 
 Alluding  to  the  reigning  policy  of  our  government  in  relation 
 to  commerce,  and  to  a  n.ivy  as  a  means  of  national  defence, 
 and  classing  among  its  effects  the  blockade  of  our  ports,  the 
 detention  of  our  vessels,  and  the  plundering  of  our  property  by 
 every  petty  freebooter,  he  thus  states  the  argument  by  which  it 
 had  been  defended  :  — 
 
 "  As  some  consolation  under  these  accumulated  evils,  we  have 
 lately  been  told,  that  the  United  States  are  a  land  animal  —  an 
 elephant,  who  is  resistless  on  land,  but  has  nothing  to  do  wata 
 the  dominion  or  navigation  of  the  sea.  Grant  that  they  are  so: 
 yet  if  this  elephant  can  neither  cool  his  burning  heat,  nor  quench 
 his  thirst,  without  losing  his  proboscis  by  the  jaws  of  the  shark 
 or  the  tusks  of  the  alligator,  what  does  it  avail  him,  that  he  is 
 allowed  to  graze  his  native  plains  in  safety  ?" 
 
EDWARD     PA  YSON. 
 
 37 
 
 Some  of  his  paragraphs  are  as  significant  as  they  are  glow- 
 ing:— 
 
 "  That  virtue,  both  in  those  who  command  and  those  who 
 obey,  is  absolutely  essential  to  the  existence  of  republics,  is  a 
 maxim,  and  a  most  important  one,  in  political  science.  Whether 
 we  retain  a  sufficient  share  of  this  virtue  to  promise  ourselves  a 
 long  duration,  you,  my  friends,  must  decide.  But,  should  the 
 period  ever  arrive,  when  luxury  and  intemperance  shall  corrupt 
 our  towns,  while  ignorance  and  vice  pervade  the  country  ;  when 
 the  press  shall  become  the  common  sewer  of  falsehood  and 
 slander ;  when  talents  and  integrity  shall  be  no  recommenda- 
 tion, and  open  dereliction  of  all  principle  no  obstacle  to  prefer- 
 ment ;  when  we  shall  intrust  our  liberties  to  men  with  whom 
 we  should  not  dare  to  trust  our  property ;  when  the  chief  seats 
 of  honor  and  responsibihty  in  our  government  shall  be  filled 
 by  characters  of  whom  the  most  malicious  ingenuity  can  invent 
 nothing  worse  thaii  the  truth ;  when  we  shall  see  the  members 
 of  our  national  councils,  in  defiance  of  the  lavi'^s  of  God  and 
 their  country,  throwing  away  their  lives  in  defence  of  reputa- 
 tions, which,  if  they  ever  existed,  had  long  been  lost ;  when  the 
 slanderers  of  Washington  and  the  blasphemers  of  our  God 
 shall  be  thought  useful  laborers  in  our  political  vineyard  ;  when, 
 in  fine,  we  shall  see  our  legislators  sacrificing  their  senses,  their 
 reason,  their  oaths,  and  their  consciences  at  the  altar  of  party ; 
 then  we  may  say,  that  virtue  has  departed,  and  that  the  end 
 of  our  liberty  draweth  nigh." 
 
 After  drawing  a  most  striking  and  vivid  contrast  between 
 the  circumstances  and  prospects  of  the  counlry  as  they  existed 
 at  the  time,  and  as  they  had  been  at  a  former  period,  he  pro- 
 ceeds : — 
 
 "The  imperfect  sketch  of  our  situation,  Avhich  has  just  been 
 given,  is  rtot  drawn  for  the  sake  of  indulging  in  idle  complaints 
 or  querulous  declamation ;  and  still  less  is  it  intended  to  lead  to 
 a  conclusion,  that  our  case  is  desperate.  But  it  is  intended,  if 
 there  be  yet  remaining  one  spark  of  that  spirit,  one  drop  of  that 
 blood,  which  animated  and  warmed  the  breasts  of  our  fathers, 
 to  rouse  it  to  vigorous  and  energetic  exertions.    It  is  to  the  want 
 
38 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 of  such  exertions,  that  we  must  ascribe  the  rapid  and  alarming 
 spread  of  disorganizing  and  demoralizing  principles  among  us ; 
 and  we  can,  in  fact,  blame  none  but  ourselves  for  the  evils  we 
 suffer.  Had  we  paid  half  that  attention  to  the  interests  of  our 
 country  and  the  preservation  of  liberty,  that  we  have  to  the 
 calls  of  indulgence,  of  pleasure,  of  avarice,  never  should  we 
 have  seen  the  sun  of  American  glory  thus  shorn  of  his  beams, 
 and  apparently  about  to  set  forever.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that, 
 when  aroused  by  some  particularly  interesting  object,  we  have 
 started  from  our  slumbers,  and  seen  the  fiendlike  form  of  Fac- 
 tion sink  beneath  our  efforts.  But  no  sooner  was  the  object  of 
 our  exertions  accomplished,  than  we  returned  to  our  couches,  and 
 while  we  were  exulting  in  our  strength,  and  rejoicing  in  our 
 victory,  suffered  our  indefatigable  foe  to  regain  all  she  had  lost. 
 It  is  not  sudden  and  transient  efforts,  however  vigorous  and 
 well-directed,  that  can  preserve  any  state  from  destruction. 
 There  is,  in  all  popular  governments,  a  national  tendency  to 
 degenerate,  as  there  is  in  matter  to  fall ;  and  nothing  can  coun- 
 teract this  tendency,  and  the  continual  endeavor  of  unprincipled 
 men  to  increase  it,  but  the  most  energetic  and  persevering  exer- 
 tions. On  no  easier  terms  can  the  blessings  of  freedom  be 
 enjoyed  ;  and  if  we  think  this  price  too  great,  it  evinces  that  we 
 are.  neither  worthy  nor  capable  of  enjoying  them. 
 
 "  This  inexcusable  neglect,  so  fatal  to  our  liberties,  and  so 
 disgraceful  to  ourselves,  is  occasioned,  in  some  measure,  by  the 
 indulgence  of  hopes  not  less  dangerous  than  they  are  ground- 
 less and  delusive.  We  are  told,  that  the  torrent  of  licentious- 
 ness, which  is  rushing  in  upon  us,  is  not  a  just  cause  for  alarm  ; 
 that  it  will  cease  of  itself,  when  it  has  run  its  career ;  and  that 
 the  people,  having  learned  wisdom  by  experience,  will  know 
 how  to  prize  the  blessings  of  order,  and  return  with  alacrity  to 
 their  former  correct  habits.  True,  it  will  cease  when  it  has  run 
 its  career;  and  so  will  the  conflagration  that  destroys  your 
 dwelling ;  but  will  you,  therefore,  use  no  endeavors  to  extin- 
 guish it  1  Beware  of  indulging  any  hopes,  but  those  which  are 
 founded  on  exertions.  The  torrent  which  approaches  us  is  the 
 overwhelming  deluge  of  Vesuvius  or  jEtna,  which  calcines  or 
 consumes  what  it  cannot  remove,  leaves  nothing  behind  it  but 
 a  black  sterility,  and  renders  ages  insufficient  to  repair  the  hav- 
 oc of  a  day. 
 
 ******* 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 39 
 
 Away  then,  with  those  idle  hopes  and  frivolous  excuses, 
 which  defraud  us  of  the  only  moments  in  which  our  safety  can 
 be  secured.  Away  with  that  indolence,  so  unworthy,  so  incon- 
 sistent with  the  character  of  freemen.  This  is  the  very  crisis 
 of  our  fate.  We  stand  on  the  extremes!  verge  of  safety ;  a 
 single  step  may  plunge  us  headlong,  never  to  rise.  The  im- 
 mense wheel  of  revolution  may  be  put  in  motion  by  a  fly, 
 though  it  would  require  more  than  mortal  power  to  arrest  its 
 progress.  Those  who  attempt  to  check  its  career  must  fall  the 
 first  victims  to  its  ponderous  weight ;  while  those  only  who  urge 
 it  forward,  and  rejoice  in  the  horrid  devastation  it  occasions, 
 can  be  safe.  But  let  us  not,  therefore,  give  way  to  despair.  The 
 same  maxim,  tliat  bids  us  never  presume,  teaches  us  likewise 
 never  to  despair.  By  neglecting  the  first  of  these  precepts,  Ave 
 have  begun  our  ruin ;  let  us  not  complete  it  by  neglecting  the 
 last.  Let  us  endeavor  to  open  those  eyes  whose  sight  is  not  to- 
 tally extinguislied  by  the  virulence  of  the  disease.  The  bright 
 rays  of  truth  and  reason,  condensed  and  reflected  from  a 
 polished  mind,  may  penetrate  even  the  shades  and  mists  of  *  * 
 *  *  prejudice.  Remember,  that,  when  good  is  to  be  promoted, 
 or  evil  opposed,  it  is  the  duty  of  every  individual  to  conduct  as 
 if  the  whole  success  of  the  enterprise  depended  on  himself. 
 Remember,  too,  that  there  is  no  individual  so  insignificant,  that 
 he  cannot  aflbrd  some  assistance  in  the  struggle  for  liberty  and 
 order. 
 
 "  But  let  us  be  careful,  my  friends,  to  engage  in  this  struggle, 
 in  a  manner,  and  with  arms,  worthy  of  the  cause  we  profess  to 
 support.  Why  should  we  disgrace  that  and  ourselves,  by  con- 
 tending for  the  most  important  interests  of  our  country  in 
 language  fit  only  for  a  tenant  of  Bilingsgate,  disputing  about 
 the  property  of  a  shrimp  or  an  oyster  7  Why  should  we  quit 
 the  high  ground  of  reason  and  argument,  on  which  we  stand,  to 
 wrestle  with  our  antagonists  in  the  kennel  of  scurrility  and 
 abuse?  *  *  *  Why  should  we  exchange  weapons,  with  which 
 we  are  certain  of  victory,  for  those  which  our  adversaries  can 
 Avield  with  equal,  and  perhaps  superior  dexterity  ? 
 
 #  *  *  *  *  *     '  * 
 
 "It  ought  never  to  be  forgotten,  that,  except  in  some  few  in- 
 stances, where  they  are  inseparable  even  in  idea,  it  is  not  men, 
 but  principles,  we  are  to  attack.    Experience  has  at  length,  in 
 
40 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 some  measure,  taught  us,  what  we  ought  long  since  to  have 
 learned  from  reason,  that,  though  ridicule  can  irritate,  it  cannot 
 convince.  On  the  contrary,  it  rouses  to  opposition  some  of  the 
 strongest  passions  in  the  human  breast ;  and  he  must  be  some- 
 thing different  from  man,  who  can  be  scourged  out  of  any 
 opinion  by  the  lash  of  personal  satire.     *  *  * 
 
 "  But  all  our  exertions,  however  animated  by  zeal,  nerved  by 
 energy,  and  guided  by  prudence,  will  be  insufficient  to  restore 
 us  to  the  height  from  which  we  have  fallen,  unless  we  restore 
 those  moral  and  religious  principles,  which  were  formerly  our 
 glory,  our  ornament,  and  defence.  Would  you  know,  my 
 friends,  the  real  source  of  the  calamities  we  suffer,  and  the 
 dangers  we  fear  1  It  is  here  ;  we  have  forsaken  the  God  of  our 
 fathers,  and  therefore  all  this  evil  has  come  upon  us.  We  once 
 gloried  in  styling  ourselves  his  American  Israel ;  and  a  similari- 
 ty of  character  and  situation  gives  us  a  claim  to  the  title. 
 Like  them,  we  have  often  been  delivered  by  his  uplifted 
 hand  and  his  outstretched  arm;  like  them  we  have  experienced 
 his  munificence  in  temporal  and  spiritual  blessings;  and,  like 
 them,  we  have  repaid  his  goodness  with  ingratitude  and  rebel- 
 lion. Like  them,  we  have  bowed  down  to  the  idols  of  luxury, 
 of  ambition,  of  pleasure  and  avarice ;  and  as  we  have  copied 
 their  idolatry,  so,  unless  Heaven,  in  undeserved  mercy,  prevent, 
 we  shall  soon  resemble  them  in  their  destruction.  It  is  an  im- 
 mutable truth,  that  sin  is  the  ruin  of  any  people;  and  woe  to 
 that  nation  who  will  not  believe  it  without  making  the  experi- 
 ment. This  experiment,  fatal  as  it  must  prove,  we  seem 
 resolved  to  make.  Among  us  God's  laws  are  disobeyed,  his 
 institutions  are  despised,  his  Sabbaths  are  profaned,  and  his 
 name  is  blasphemed.  And  shall  he  not  visit  for  these  things  ? 
 Will  he  not  be  avenged  on  such  a  nation  as  this  7  *  *  *  *  * 
 
 "Will  any  reply,  with  a  sneer,  that  these  observations  have 
 been  often  repeated,  and  that  they  have  now  become  trite  and 
 old  7  They  are  so ;  *  *  *  *  and  though  this  were  the  ten 
 thousandth  repetition,  still,  if  we  have  not  yet  reduced  them  to 
 practice,  it  is  necessary  to  hear  them  again  and  again.  Re- 
 member, that  it  is  in  vain  to  boast  of  our  patriotism,  and  make 
 high  pretensions  to  love  for  our  country,  while,  by  our  private 
 vices,  we  are  adding  to  the  national  debt  of  iniquity  under 
 which  she  groans,  and  which  must  soon  plunge  her  in  the  gulf 
 
EDWAR  D  PAYSON. 
 
 41 
 
 of  irretrievable  ruin.  Hear,  and  remember — that  if,  in  defiance 
 of  reason,  gratitude,  and  religion,  we  still  madly  persist  to  follow- 
 that  path  in  which  we  have  already  made  such  rapid  advances, 
 and  to  imitate  the  vices  of  those  nations  who  have  gone  before 
 us,  as  certain  as  there  is  a  God  in  heaven,  so  certainly  we  shall 
 share  their  fate. 
 
 "  If,  then,  you  would  display  true  love  for  your  country,  and 
 lengthen  out  the  span  of  her  existence,  endeavor  by  precept, 
 but  especially  by  example,  to  inculcate  the  principles  of  order, 
 morality,  and  religion.  Exert  your  influence  to  check  the 
 progress  of  luxuryj  that  first,  second,  and  third  cause  of  the 
 ruin  of  republics  ;  that  vampyre,  which  soothes  us  into  a  fatal 
 slumber,  while  it  sucks  the  life-blood  from  our  veins.  Above 
 all,  be  attentive  to  the  morals  of  the  rising  generation,  and  do 
 not,  by  neglect  and  indulgence,  nourish  the  native  seeds  of  vice 
 and  faction  in  their  hearts.  Let  not  these  counsels  be  despised, 
 because  they  are  the  words  of  youth  and  inexperience.  When 
 your  habitation  is  in  flames,  a  child  may  give  the  alarm,  as 
 well  as  a  philosopher." 
 
 The  extracts  from  this  oration  have  been  the  more  copious, 
 as  it  is  the  only  considerable  production  of  Dr.  Payson,  that 
 survives  him,  whose  object  was  not  professedly  religious ;  and 
 because  this  performance  is  thought  to  have  had  influence  in 
 fixing  his  ultimate  destination.  This  was  the  commencement 
 of  his  career,  as  a  public  speaker,  and  probably  the  only  occa- 
 sion on  which  he  addressed  a  popular  assembly,  till  he  stood 
 forth  as  the  ambassador  of  Christ.  In  selecting  the  passages  to 
 be  preserved,  regard  was  had  not  so  much  to  originality  nor  to 
 brilliancy  of  imagery,  as  to  the  permanent  value  of  the  senti- 
 ments, and  their  suitableness  to  the  design  of  this  work. 
 
CHAPTER  III. 
 
 His  religious  history  luring  the  period  embraced  in  the  preceding  chapter. 
 
 "When  did  Dr.  Payson  become  religious?" — and  "What 
 was  tlie  character  of  his  religious  experience  at  the  time  he  em- 
 braced the  hope  of  the  gospel?"— are  questions  which  have  been 
 frequently  proposed,  but  never  satisfactorily  answered.  With 
 respect  to  them  he  invariably  maintained  a  reserve,  which,  to 
 good  people,  who  were  over-curious  to  know,  appeared  wholly 
 imaccountable.  If  he  ever  fully  communicated  those  inward 
 feelings  and  exercises,  which  issued  in  a  confirmed  hope,  it  must 
 have  been  to  his  parents  and  sister,  who  are  no  longer  inhabi- 
 tants of  earth.  No  solicitations  by  others  could  draw  from  him 
 a  particular  history  of  that  process,  through  which  he  was  carri- 
 ed, before  he  could  appropriate  the  comforting  language,  "Being 
 justified  by  faith,  we  have  peace  with  God  through  our  Lord 
 Jesus  Christ."  The  compiler  of  these  pages  studied  his  relig- 
 ious history  in  an  inverted  order,  and  being  first  made  acquain- 
 ted with  that  part  of  his  experience  which  belonged  to  a 
 subsequent  period  of  his  life,  was  ready  to  account  for  his  re- 
 serve on  the  supposition,  that  the  exercises  attending  his  con- 
 version were  of  an  extraordinary  kind ;  and,  if  adopted  as  a 
 standard  of  religious  experience — which,  considering  the  char- 
 acter and  station  of  their  subject,  and  that  sort  of  oracular  au- 
 thority which  was  connected  in  many  minds  with  whatever  he 
 sanctioned,  they  could  hardly  fail  to  be,  to  some  extent — would 
 occasion  much  discomfort  to  real  believers,  and  be  far  from  rec- 
 ommending religion  to  such  as  have  never  yielded  themselves  to 
 its  influence. 
 
MEMOIE    OF    EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 43 
 
 A  different  supposition,  however,  is  more  credible,  and  lias 
 something  like  evidence  to  support  it.  It  has  already  been  seen, 
 that  his  mother,  who  doubtless  watched,  and  "pondered  in  her 
 heart,"  every  indication  of  the  state  of  his  feelings  on  this  sub- 
 ject, was  not  without  a  partial  belief,  that  he  was  converted  in 
 childhood.  His  room-mate,  since  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  thinks 
 that  "he  experienced  religion  before  entering  college,  but,  owing 
 to  his  peculiar  situation  while  there,  became  a  backslider."  An- 
 other classmate,  one  of  the  literary  associates  mentioned  in  the 
 preceding  chapter,  whose  speculative  views  of  religion  are  sup- 
 posed to  differ  from  those  of  his  departed  friend,  but  who  has 
 the  power  to  discern,  and  a  heart  to  appreciate  worth,  wherever 
 found,  has  thus  expressed  himself  in  relation  to  these  questions : 
 "  His  theological  opinions,  during  his  early  consideration  of 
 subjects  of  that  nature,  were  essentially  Calvinistic ;  but  his 
 views  of  the  operative  power  of  religious  faith  upon  the  heart 
 and  life,  were  materiaUy  altered,  previous  to  entering  upon  the 
 great  work  which  occupied  the  remainder  of  his  days.  The 
 important  change  took  place  gradually,  not  from  any  sudden  or 
 overpowering  impressions." 
 
 With  such  an  origin  correspond  the  earlier  fruits  and  opera- 
 tions of  his  religion,  so  far  as  they  can  be  gathered  from  writ- 
 ings which  he  has  left  behind  him.  His  religion  was  of  a 
 comparatively  gentle,  unobtrusive,  amiable,  yet  progressive, 
 character,  less  marked  by  the  extremes  of  agonizing  and  tri- 
 umphant feelings,  than  it  was  at  a  subsequent  period — a  differ- 
 ence, for  which  the  reader  will,  in  the  sequel,  be  at  no  loss  to 
 account.  From  the  early  part  of  1804,  religion  .seems  to  have 
 been  his  all-engrossing  concern;  his  attention  was  then  arrested 
 and  fixed,  so  as  never  afterwards  to  be  diverted,  for  any  length 
 of  time,  from  the  subject.  Whether  he  were  in  an  unconverted 
 or  backslidden  state,  he  was  then  roused,  as  from  sleep,  to  take 
 a  solemn  view  of  his  relations  as  an  accountable  and  immortal 
 being.  The  occasion  of  this  new  or  revived  concern  for  his 
 soul,  was  the  death  of  a  beloved  brother.  A  letter  to  his  pa- 
 rents, in  answer  to  one  which  announced  the  sorrowful  tidings, 
 is  the  earliest  prodiiction  of  his  pen,  which  has  escaped  obliv- 
 ion, and,  on  this  account  alone,  will  be  read  with  interest.  But 
 it  has  a  higher  value,  as  it  enables  us  to  date  the  commence- 
 ment of  his  attention  to  his  spiritual  interests  as  far  back 
 
44 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 as  May  20,  1804,*  the  time  when  his  letter  was  dated, 
 and  it  more  than  intimates  that  the  subject  with  him  was  not 
 new. 
 
 "  My  dear  mother's  fears  respecting  my  attention  to  rehgious 
 concerns  were,  alas  !  but  too  well  founded.  Infatuated  by  the 
 pleasures  and  amusements  which  this  place  aftbrds,  and  which 
 took  the  more  powerful  hold  on  my  senses  from  being  adorned 
 with  a  refinement  to  which  I  had  before  been  a  stranger,  I 
 gradually  grew  cold  and  indifferent  to  religion  ;  and,  though  I 
 still  made  attempts  to  reform,  they  were  too  transient  to  be  ef- 
 fectual. 
 
 "  From  this  careless  frame,  nothing  but  a  shock  like  that  I 
 have  received  could  have  roused  me ;  and  though  my  deceitful 
 heart  will,  I  fear,  draw  me  back  again  into  the  snare,  as  soon 
 as  the  first  impression  is  worn  off,  yet  I  hope,  by  the  assistance 
 of  divine  grace,  that  this  dispensation  will  prove  of  eternal 
 benefit.  This  is  my  most  earnest  prayer,  and  I  know  it  will  be 
 yours. 
 
 "  In  reflecting  on  the  ends  of  divine  Providence  in  this  event, 
 I  am  greatly  distressed.  To  you,  my  dear  parents,  it  could  not 
 be  necessary.  My  sister,  as  you  sometime  since  informed  me, 
 has  turned  her  attention  to  religion ;  the  other  children  are  too 
 young  to  receive  benefit  from  it.  It  remains,  then,  that  I  am 
 the  Achan,  who  has  drawn  this  punishment,  and  occasioned 
 this  distress  to  my  friends.  My  careless,  obdurate  heart  rendered 
 it  necessary  to  punish  and  humble  it :  and  O  that  the  punish- 
 ment had  fallen  where  it  was  due !  But  I  can  pursue  the  sub- 
 ject no  further." 
 
 ♦This  date  is  given,  as  it  appears  ia  Dr.  Payson's hand-writing.  A  coiTes- 
 pondent,  however,  places  it  a  year  later.  If  the  date  of  the  brother's  death 
 has  been  preserved  on  the  Family  Record,  which  is  altogether  probable,  to 
 that  date  this  change  in  his  feelings  should  be  referred.  It  is  possible  some- 
 thing may  have  faded  from  the  last  of  the  figures  denoting  the  year. 
 
 It  has  been  stated,  on  credible  authority,  that  Dr.  Payson  was  so  much  af- 
 fected by  this  bereavement,  that  he  confined  himself  to  his  cltamber  for  three 
 days  ;  and  that,  previously  to  this  period,  he  had  purposed  to  devote  himself 
 to  the  profession  of  the  law.  If  so,  the  affliction  was  no  less  a  mercy  to  the 
 cnurch  tlian  to  himself. 
 
 "  God  is  his  o^vn  Interpreter." 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 45 
 
 Here  is  ihe  subdued  tone  of  the  penitent,  "come  to  himself,  and 
 returning  to  his  Father."  Of  his  progress  in  piety  for  the  next 
 six  months,  nothing  is  known  except  what  may  be  inferred  from 
 a  letter  dated  Dec.  12th  of  the  same  year.  An  extract  will  show- 
 that  he  was  not  inattentive  to  what  passed  in  his  OAvn  heart, 
 nor  without  experience  in  the  Christian  conflict. 
 
 "  I  have  nothing  but  complaints  of  myself  to  make,  nothing 
 but  the  same  old  story  of  erring  and  repenting,  but  never  reform- 
 ing. I  fear  I  am  in  a  sad  way.  I  attend  public  worship  and 
 think  of  every  subject  but  the  proper  one ;  or  if,  by  strong  ex- 
 ertions, I  fix  my  attention  for  a  few  minutes,  I  feel  an  irresisti- 
 ble propensity  to  criticise  the  preacher,  instead  of  attending  to 
 the  instructions;  and,  notwithstanding  a  full  conviction  that 
 this  conduct  is  wrong,  I  persist  in  it  still.  Hence  it  happens, 
 that  the  Sabbath,  which  is  so  admirably  calculated  to  keep 
 alive  a  sense  of  religion,  becomes  a  stumbling-block.  The 
 thought  of  my  sinful  neglect  and  inattention  so  shames  and 
 distresses  me,  that  I  am  unable  to  approach  the  throne  of  grace, 
 through  shame.  As  this,  I  know,  is  the  fruit  of  a  self-righteous 
 spirit,  I  strive  against  it ;  and,  after  two  or  three  days,  perhaps, 
 am  enabled  to  trust  in  Christ  for  the  pardon  of  that  and  other 
 sins.  But.  another  Sabbath,  the  same  round  is  repeated.  Thus 
 I  go  on,  sinning  and  humbling  myself  after  long  seeking  for  a 
 proper  sense  of  my  sin,  then  confessing  it  with  contrition  and 
 remorse  ;  and,  the  next  moment,  even  while  the  joy  of  obtained 
 pardon  and  gratitude  for  divine  favor  is  thrilling  in  my  heart, 
 plunging,  on  the  most  trivial  temptation,  into  the  same  error, 
 whose  bitter  consequences  I  had  so  lately  felt.  Shame  and  re- 
 morse for  the  ungrateful  returns  I  have  made  for  the  blessings 
 bestowed,  prevent  secret  prayer,  frequently  for  two  or  three 
 days  together,  until  I  can  no  longer  support  it ;  and  though  I 
 have  so  often  experienced  forgiving  love,  I  am  too  proud  to  ask 
 for  it." 
 
 A  few  weeks  afterwards,  he  writes  thus  : — "  I  feel  convinced 
 by  experience,  that  if  I  relax  my  exertions  for  ever  so  short  a 
 time,  it  will  require  additional  exertions  to  repair  it,  and  perhaps 
 occasion  a  week's  gloom  and  despondency  ;  yet  the  least  temp- 
 tation leads  me  to  do  what  I  feel  conscious  at  the  time,  I  shall 
 
46 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 severely  smart  for.  In  the  impracticable  attempt  to  reconcile 
 God  and  the  world,  I  spend  my  time  very  unhappily,  neither 
 enjoying  the  comforts  of  this  world  nor  of  religion.  But  1  have 
 at  last  determined  to  renounce  the  false  pleasures  for  which  I 
 pay  so  dear,  and  this  I  should  have  done  long  ago,  but  for  the 
 advice  and  example  of  some  whose  judgment  I  respected." 
 
 "  I  have  lately  been  severely  tried  with  doubts  and  difficul- 
 ties respecting  many  parts  of  Scripture.  Reading  the  other 
 day,  I  met  with  this  passage,  '  for  his  great  name's  sake.'  It 
 was  immediately  suggested  to  my  mind,  that,  as  the  Deity  be- 
 stowed all  his  favors  on  us  '  for  his  great  name's  sake,'  we  were 
 imder  no  obligations  to  feel  grateful  for  them.  And  though  my 
 heart  assented  to  the  propriety  of  gratitude,  my  head  would  not. 
 In  hearing  my  scholars  recite  the  Greek  Testament,  I  am  dis- 
 turbed by  numberless  seeming  inconsistencies  and  doubts,  Avhich, 
 though  they  do  not  shake  my  belief,  render  me  for  a  time 
 extremely  miserable.  I  find  no  relief  in  these  trials  from  the 
 treatises  which  have  been  written  in  proof  of  the  truth  of  rev- 
 elation. It  is  from  a  different  source  that  assistance  is  received." 
 
 "April  20,  1805. 
 "  My  dearest  mother: — I  have  just  been  perusing  something 
 excessively  interesting  to  my  feelings.  It  is  a  short  extract  from 
 your  journal  in  my  sister's  letter.  Surely  it  is  my  own  fault, 
 that  I  do  not  resemble  Samuel  in  more  instances  than  one. 
 What  a  disgrace  to  me,  that,  with  such  rare  and  inestimable  ad- 
 vantages, I  have  made  no  greater  progress  !  However,  thanks 
 to  the  fervent,  effectual  prayers  of  my  righteous  parents,  and  the 
 tender  mercies  of  my  God  upon  me,  I  have  reason  to  hope,  that 
 the  pious  wishes,  breathed  over  my  infant  head,  are  in  some 
 measure  fulfilled ;  nor  would  I  exchange  the  benefits  which  I 
 have  derived  from  my  parents  for  the  inheritance  of  any  mon- 
 arch *  in  the  universe. 
 
 *  The  admirers  of  Cowper  —  between  whom  and  the  subject  of  this 
 Memoir  there  are  several  strong  points  of  resemblance — will  be  reminded,  at 
 once  of  those  beautiful  lines : 
 
 My  boast  is  not  that  I  deduce  my  birth 
 
 From  loins  enthroned,  and  rulers  of  the  earth ; 
 
 But  higher  far  my  proud  pretensions  rise ; 
 
 The  son  of  parents  passed  into  the  skies." 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 47 
 
 "  I  feel  inclined  to  hope  that  I  am  progressing,  though  by  slow 
 and  imperceptible  degrees,  in  the  knowledge  of  divine  things. 
 On  comparing  my  former  and  present  views,  I  find  that  the 
 latter  are  much  less  confused  and  perplexed  ;  that  I  have  clearer 
 conceptionsof  my  utter  inability  to  take  a  single  step  in  religion 
 without  divine  assistance,  of  the  consequent  necessity  of  a 
 Saviour,  and  of  the  way  of  salvation  by  him.  Yet  I  cannot 
 find  that  my  conduct,  my  heart  or  disposition  is  made  better. 
 On  the  contrary,  I  fear  they  are  Avorse  than  ever." 
 
 "  June  12,  1805. 
 
  "  I  find  I  have  been  trying  to  establish  a  righteousness 
 
 of  my  own,  though  till  lately  I  thouglit  myself  free  from  any 
 such  design.  Hence  arose  all  that  unwillingness  to  perform  the 
 public  and  private  exercises  of  devotion,  which  I  felt  after  any 
 neglect  of  duty.  I  wanted,  forsooth,  to  be  encouraged  to  hope 
 for  an  answer  of  peace,  by  some  merits  of  my  own,  and  so  felt 
 unwilling  to  approach  the  throne  of  grace,  when  I  had  been 
 guilty  of  any  thing  which  lessened  my  stock  of  goodness.  lu 
 short,  it  was  the  same  kind  of  reluctance  which  I  should  feel  to 
 approach  a  fellow  being  whom  I  had  injured.  And  this,  which 
 1  now  see  arose  from  pride,  I  fondly  thought  Avas  the  effect  of 
 great  humility.  Finding  myself  so  deceived  here,  and  in  num- 
 berless other  instances,  I  am  utterly  at  a  loss  Avhat  to  do.  If  I 
 attempt  to  perform  any  duty,  I  am  afraid  it  is  only  an  attempt 
 to  build  up  a  fabric  of  my  own;  and  if  I  neglect  it,  the  case  is 
 still  worse. 
 
 ******* 
 "  Since  the  period  of  my  leaving  home  for  Cambridge,  it  has 
 appeared  the  most  discouraging  circumstance  attending  the 
 spread  of  religion,  that  many  who  undertake  to  preach  it  are  so 
 shamefully  negligent.  Of  this,  my  dear  mother,  you  can  form 
 no  just  idea,  unless  you  have  heard  them.  While  their  hearers 
 are  wishing  and  longing  for  spiritual  food,  they  are  obliged  to 
 rest  content  with  cold,  dry  lectures  on  morality,  enforced  by  any 
 motives  rather  than  evangelical.  These  ministers  content  them- 
 selves, generally,  with  pruning  off  some  of  the  most  prominent 
 excrescences  of  vice  ;  they  leave  the  root  untouched,  and  cut  off 
 only  the  leaves.  The  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  difficult  does 
 the  duty  appear  ;  and  I  tremble  at  the  thought  of  incurring  such 
 
48 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 a  responsibility.  I  fear,  however,  that  part  of  my  reluctance 
 arises  from  an  indolent  disposition,  from  an  unwillingness  to 
 encounter  the  fatigues,  the  difficulties  and  dangers  attending  the 
 performance  of  a  clergyman's  duty.  I  am  afraid  of  conferring 
 too  much  with  flesh  and  blood." 
 
 The  next  notices  which  he  has  left  of  himself  are  found  in 
 a  manuscript  volume,  written  in  characters  which  it  has  been  a 
 long  and  difficult  work  to  decipher.  The  following  are  the  first 
 two  paragraphs  : — 
 
 "  July  25,  1805.  This  day,  being  my  twenty-second  birth 
 day,  I  have  determined  to  commence  a  diary,  as  a  check  on 
 the  misemployment  of  time." 
 
 Same  date.  "  Having  resolved  this  day  to  dedicate  myself  to 
 my  Creator,  in  a  serious  and  solemn  maimer,  by  a  written  cove- 
 nant, I  took  a  review  of  my  past  life,  and  of  the  numerous 
 mercies  by  which  it  has  been  distinguished.  Then,  with  sin- 
 cerity, as  I  humbly  hope,  I  took  the  Lord  to  be  my  God,  and 
 engaged  to  love,  serve,  and  obey  him.  Relying  on  the  assist- 
 ance of  his  Holy  Spirit^  I  engaged  to  take  the  holy  Scriptures 
 as  the  rule  of  my  conduct,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  be  my 
 Saviour,  and  the  Spirit  of  all  grace  and  consolation  as  my  Guide 
 and  Sanctifier.    The  vows  of  God  are  upon  me." 
 
 Subsequent  entries  in  his  diary  show  an  ever-active  desire  to 
 '  pay  the  vows  which  his  lips  had  uttered.'  He  made  strenuous 
 etforts  to  redeem  the  morning  hours  from  sleep,  that  he  might 
 enjoy  an  uninterrnpted  season  for  reading  the  Scriptures,  and 
 other  devotional  exercises ;  and,  when  he  failed  of  this,  he  suf- 
 fered much  in  consequence,  and  lamented  it  with  deep  feeling. 
 His  diligence  in  business,  as  well  as  fervor  of  spirit,  are  abund- 
 antly apparent  from  the  account  which  he  has  given  of  the  em- 
 ployment of  every  hour,  from  four  in  the  morning  to  ten  at 
 night.  In  a  letter  to  his  parents,  written  on  this  anniversary, 
 he  speaks  of  having  already  'paid  considerable  attention  to 
 divinity,'  and  of  expecting,  '  in  another  year,  to  commence 
 preaching,  if  he  should  feel  competent  to  such  an  undertaking. 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 49 
 
 "  Portland,  July  25,  1805. 
 "  My  dear  parents, — This  day,  which  completes  my  twenty- 
 second  year,  renews  the  remembrance  of  the  numerous  claims 
 your  continued  care  and  kindness  have  on  my  gratitude  and 
 affection.  To  you,  next  to  my  heavenly  Father,  I  owe  that  I 
 exist,  that  I  am  in  a  situation  to  support  myself,  and,  what  is  a 
 still  greater  obligation,  to  your  admonitions  and  instructions  I 
 am  indebted  for  all  the  moral  and  religious  impressions  which 
 are  imprinted  in  my  mind,  and  which,  I  hope,  under  God,  Avill 
 give  me  reason  to  love  and  bless  .you  through  eternity.  How 
 can  I  feel  sufficient  gratitude  to  the  Giver  of  all  good  for  blessing 
 me  with  such  parents  !  and  how  can  I  thank  you  sufficiently 
 for  all  the  kindness  you  have  lavished  upon  me,  as  yet  without 
 return  !  But  it  shall  be  the  study  of  my  life  to  show,  that  I  am 
 not  utterly  devoid  of  every  sentiment  of  gratitude  and  duty. 
 Pardon  me,  my  dearest  parents,  for  all  the  pain,  the  trouble, 
 and  anxiety  I  have  given  you,  and  believe  me  while  I  promise 
 never  knowingly  to  be  guilty  of  any  thing  to  increase  the  un- 
 easiness I  have  already  occasioned  you.  1  consider  it  as  one  of 
 my  greatest  blessings,  that  I  am  now  in  a  situation  which  pre- 
 vents my  being  a  charge  to  you,  and  which,  besides,  might  ena- 
 ble me,  in  case  of  misfortune,  to  repay  some  small  part  of  the 
 kindness  I  have  received.  I,  with  all  I  do  or  may  possess,  am 
 your  property,  for  you  alone  put  me  in  a  situation  to  obtain  it. 
 And  if  there  be  any  thing,  (as  I  doubt  not  there  is,)  which 
 would  contribute  to  your  happiness,  in  my  power  to  procure 
 for  you,  I  most  earnestly  entreat  you  to  let  me  know  it ;  and 
 if  I  do  not,  with  the  utmost  pleasure,  comply,  cast  me  off  as 
 an  ungrateful  Avretch,  utterly  unworthy  of  your  kindness  arid 
 affection." 
 
 Mr.  Pay  son  made  a  public  profession  of  religion  September  1, 
 1805.  He  connected  himself  originally  Avith  the  church  in 
 Rindge,  under  the  pastoral  care  of  his  father,  while  on  a  visit 
 to  his  parents  during  one  of  his  quarterly  vacations.  Of  his 
 exercises  in  the  near  prospect  of  this  solemn  act,  not  a  memo- 
 rial remains.  The  record  of  them  was  probably  destroyed  by 
 himself,  as  there  is  a  hiatus  in  his  diary  from  about  a  month 
 previous  to  this  event  till  the  19th  of  January  following.  It 
 is  not  an  omission,  but  an  obvious  mutilation.    The  only  direct 
 
50 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 allusion  to  this  public  dedication  of  himself  to  God  is  in  a  letter 
 to  his  mother,  written  a  short  time  afterwards,  in  which  he 
 says — "As  yet  I  have  no  reason  to  repent  of  the  step  I  took 
 while  at  home.  On  the  contrary,  I  esteem  it  a  great  blessing 
 that  no  obstacles  prevented  it."  He  adds,  "  I  have  felt  won- 
 drous brave  and  resolute  since  my  return ;  but  I  rejoice  with 
 trembling.  If  I  know  any  thing  of  myself,  I  shall  need  pretty 
 severe  discipline  through  life;  and  I  often  shrink  at  the  thought 
 of  the  conflicts  that  await  me,  but  am  encouraged  by  the 
 promise  that  my  strength  shall  be  equal  to  my  day."  Never 
 were  apprehensions  and  hopes  more  signally  realized.  He  who 
 "tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb,"  however,  reserved  the 
 bitterest  trials  for  a  confirmed  state  of  religious  experience,  mer- 
 cifully indulging  his  servant  with  the  light  of  his  countenance, 
 and  a  peaceful  and  happy  progress  in  his  pilgrimage,  in  its 
 earliest  stages.  Oct.  6th,  he  writes — "I  know  it  will  add  to 
 your  happiness,  my  dear  mother,  to  hear  that  I  possess  a  large 
 quantity  of  that  desirable  commodity.  Since  my  return  from 
 Rindge,  bating  a  few  disagreeable  days  after  parting  with  my 
 friends,  I  have  hardly  known  one  unhappy  moment.  The 
 doubts  which  formerly  obscured  my  mind  are  dissipated,  and  I 
 have  enjoyed,  and  do  still  enjoy,  mental  peace,  and,  at  times, 
 happiness  inexpressible.  When  I  am  thus  happy,  it  renders  me 
 so  benevolent  that  I  want  to  make  every  one  partake  of  it,  and 
 can  hardly  forbear  preaching  to  every  man  I  see.  At  the  same 
 time,  the  thought  of  what  I  deserve,  compared  with  what  I  en- 
 joy, humbles  me  to  the  dust ;  and  the  lower  I  get,  the  more 
 happy  do  I  feel ;  and  then  I  am  so  full  of  gratitude  and  love,  I 
 can  hardly  snpport  it.  My  only  source  of  unhappiness,  at  such 
 times,  is  the  moral  certainty  that  I  shall  again  offend  that  God 
 who  is  so  infinitely,  so  condescendingly  kind.  This,  indeed, 
 seems  impossible  at  the  time;  it  then  seems  that  worldly  objects 
 cannot  possibly  again  acquire  an  undue  influence  over  my 
 mind.  **^*  To  ihink  that  I  shall  again  become  cold  and 
 inanimate,  that  I  shall  again  offend  and  grieve  the  Holy  Spirit, 
 and  perhaps  be  left  openly  to  dishonor  the  holy  name  by  which 
 T  am  called — my  dear  mother,  how  distressing  !" 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 51 
 
 "  October  29. 
 
  "These  worldly  comforts  are  nothing  to  the  serenity 
 
 c«Tid  peace  of  miud  with  which  I  am  favored,  and  the  happiness 
 arising  from  love,  gratitude,  and  confidence.  Even  contrition 
 and  remorse  for  having  slighted  so  long  such  infinite  and  con- 
 descending mercy,  is  not  without  a  pleasing  kind  of  pain.  But 
 I  know  this  state  of  things  is  too  good  to  continue  long;  and  I 
 hope  I  shall  be  enabled  to  take  up  with  a  much  smaller  number 
 of  the  comforts  of  life  without  nmrmn'ring." 
 
 In  a  letter,  dated  November  11th,  he.  says,  "The  happiness 
 I  mentioned  in  my  last,  and  in  which  you  so  kindly  partici- 
 pate, I  still  enjoy,  though  diminished,  in  some  degree,  by  an 
 examination  I  have  been  making  respecting  some  important 
 but  perplexing  truths." 
 
 Some  Aveeks  after  this  he  wrote — "I  did  not  intend  to  say 
 another  word  about  my  feelings;  but  I  must,  or  else  cease 
 writing.  I  am  so  happy,  that  I  cannot  possibly  think  nor 
 write  of  any  thing  else.  Such  a  glorious,  beautiful,  consis- 
 tent scheme  for  the  redemption  of -such  miserable  wretches  I 
 such  infinite  love  and  goodness,  joined  with  such  wisdom  ! 
 1  would,  if  possible,  raise,  my  voice  so  that  the  whole  universe, 
 to  its  remotest  bounds,  might  hear  me,  if  any  language  could 
 be  found  worthy  of  such  a  subject.  How  transporting,  and 
 yet  how  humiliating,  are  the  displays  of  divine  goodness,  which 
 at  some  favored  moments,  we  feel !  what  happiness  in  hum- 
 bling ourselves  in  the  dust,  and  confessing  our  sins  and 
 unworlhiness !" 
 
 A  solicitude  for  the  spiritual  v/elfare  of  others,  which  is 
 among  the  early  fruits  af  experimental  religion,  and  one  of  the 
 most  pleasing  evidences  of  its  existence,  was,  in  Mr.  Payson, 
 coeval  with  his  profession  of  the  faith  and  hope  of  the  gospel. 
 Of  this  his  pupils,  as  was  to  be  expected,  were  always  the  most 
 interesting  objects. — September  20th,  he  writes—"  Last  Satur- 
 day, I  gave  my  scholars  six  questions  in  the  catechism,  and  a 
 hymn  to  commit  to  memory  on  the  Sabbath  ;  and,  on  Monday 
 morning,  after  hearing  them  recite,  I  lectured  them  on  the  sub- 
 jects about  three  quarters  of  an  hour.    They  paid  strict  atten- 
 
52 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 tion.  It  is,  however,  discouraging  to  attempt  any  thing  ol"  this 
 kmd,  and  a  most  lively  faith  alone  can  make  it  otherwise.  Is 
 it  not  astonishing,  that  those  who  have  a  just  sense  of  the  im- 
 portance of  religion  are  not  more  earnest  in  recommending  it  to 
 others  ?  One  woidd  suppose  they  could  hardly  refrain  from 
 preaching  to  them  in  the  streets.  The  reason  we  do  not  is. 
 we  have  not  a  just  sense  of  it." 
 
 "  October  29. 
 
 "  I  hope  your  narrative — for  which  I  thank  you — will  have 
 a  tendency  to  stir  me  up.  I  feel  a  strong  and  abiding  impres- 
 sion on  my  mind,  that  all  the  good  I  enjoy  my  friends  were 
 stirred  up  to  pray  for ;  and  I  hope  I  and  my  scholars  shall  reap 
 the  advantage  of  them  in  this  case.  When  I  look  at  them,  and 
 reflect  how  many  dangers  they  are  exposed  to,  what  bad  exam- 
 ples even  the  parents  of  many  set  them,  and  how  few  hear  any 
 thing  like  religious  instruction,  I  cannot  express  my  feelings. 
 Lately  I  feel  a  great  flow  of  words  when  addressing  them  ;  how- 
 ever, it  is  just  like  speaking  to  dry  bones,  unless  a  divine  bless- 
 ing assist.  If  I  could  be  the  means  of  doing  good  only  to  one, 
 what  transport !  Thank  God,  it  does  not  depend  on  the  means, 
 but  on  himself;  otherwise  I  should  give  up  in  despair." 
 
 "  January  15,  1806. 
 "This  morning  I  was  hii;hly  favored  in  speaking  to  my 
 scholars.  I  spoke  nearly  three  quarters  of  an  hour  with  some 
 earnestness,  though  not  so  much  as  I  could  have  wished.  Ex- 
 cept once,  I  have  felt  a  very  considerable  share  of  freedom  on 
 these  occasions.  Your  mentioning  that  you  were  enabled  to 
 pray  for  a  blessing  on  these  poor  endeavors  has  been  a  great  en- 
 couragement to  me.  They  are  attentive,  and  a  very  perceptible 
 difference  has  taken  place  in  their  attention  to  their  studies.  I 
 hope  that,  sooner  or  later,  they  will  become  attentive  to  more 
 important  pursuits.  I  am  almost  afraid  to  write  even  to  you, 
 my  dear  mother,  on  these  subjects,  lest  I  should  make  some 
 gross  blunder,  through  my  ignorance  and  inexperience.  I  have 
 often  observed,  that  persons  who  begin  to  read  late  in  life  are 
 apt  to  think  every  thing  they  meet  with  in  books  as  new  to 
 others  as  it  is  to  them,  and  so  make  themselves  ridiculous  by 
 retailing,  as  novelty,  what  every  one  knew  before.  In  like 
 manner,  I  am  somewhat  apprehensive  of  appearing  to  you,  in 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 53 
 
 mentioning  my  own  feelings,  as  one  who  is  detailing  last  years 
 news ;  for  your  ideas  and  feelings  must  be  so  far  beyond  mine, 
 that  it  will  require  some  patience  to  read  my  relations.  How- 
 ever, I  trust  to-  your  goodness,  and  hope  you  will  remember, 
 that  many  things,  which  are  now  plain  and  common,  were  once 
 dark  and  unusual  to  you.  I  am  pursuing  my  studies  pretty 
 imich  at  random,  having  no  person  to  advise  with." 
 
 This  anxiety  for  the  souls  of  his  fellow-creatures,  marked  his 
 intercourse  with  associates  of  the  same  standing  with  himself 
 One  of  his  valued  companions  in  literary  pursuits  has  furnished 
 the  following  extracts : 
 
 "  December  2,  1805. 
 "  There  is  no  worldly  blessing  that  is  not  heightened  by  reli- 
 gion, but  none  more  so  than  friendship,  whether  it  be  between 
 relatives  by  consanguinity,  or  those  who  are  joined  in  marriage, 
 or  other  friends.  The  idea  of  parting  must  imbitter  the  pleasure 
 of  the  man  of  the  world  ;  but  the  Christian,  if  he  has  chosen  his 
 friends  aright,  may  hope  to  enjoy  their  society  with  more  pleas- 
 ure hereafter  than  he  can  now.  For  this  reason  I  never  should 
 choose  a  partner  for  life,  whom  I  could  not  hope  to  meet  beyond 
 the  tomb." 
 
 "  December  9. 
 
 "  You  ascribe,  my  friend,  too  much  to  age  and  a  cultivated 
 mind,  when  you  speak  of  them  as  inconsistent  with  a  '  stupid 
 blindness  respecting  futurity.'  Sad  experience  shows  tliat  age 
 the  most  mature,  and  minds  the  most  cultivated,  are  too  often 
 under  the  operation  of  such  a  blindness.  Who,  among  the 
 walks  of  science,  ambition,  avarice,  or  pleasure,  is  not  blind  to 
 his  own  mortality  1  Who  is  there  that  sees,  that  every  hour 
 of  his  life  he  infringes  that  law  Avhich  says — '  cursed  is  every 
 one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things  written  therein  to  do  them?' 
 Who  sees  that  his  brittle  thread  of  life  is  all  on  which  he  hangs 
 over  endless  misery,  and  that,  if  any  one  of  the  many  dangers 
 to  which  he  is  exposed  should  be  permitted  to  crush  him,  he 
 woidd,  in  a  moment,  be  the  subject  of  despair  1  No  age,  no 
 improvement  of  the  mind,  will  make  us  see  these  truths  to  be 
 such.  We  may  assent  to  them,  but  our  conduct  shows  we  do 
 not  believe  them.  You  do  not  yet,  my  friend,  know  the  diffi- 
 culty of  the  task.    Consider,  first,  that  the  divine  law  extends 
 
54 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 to  the  thoughts,  and  that  it  makes  no  allowance  for  human 
 infirmity,  and  then  shut  yourself  up  alone,  out  of  the  reach  of  / 
 temptation,  and  try  for  one  hour  to  be  innocent,  and  you  will 
 find,  by  the  numberless  foolish  thoughts  and  vicious  propensities 
 arising  in  your  mind,  that  it  is  no  easy  thing  to  be  negatively 
 good.  When,  in  addition  to  this,  you  consider  that  sins  of  omis- 
 sion are  equally  fatal  with  sins  of  commission,  you  must  cer- 
 tainly, if  you  know  any  thing  of  your  own  heart,  give  up  in 
 despair.  I  write  this  not  to  discourage  you,  but  to  urge  the 
 immediate  commencement  of  a  work  so  difficult  and  so  impor- 
 tant ;  but  still  more  to  induce  you  to  apply  to  One  who  can  give 
 you  strength,  and  will  give  it,  if  asked  for  in  a  full  conviction 
 of  your  own  weakness.  You  know  nothing  of  your  OAvn  heart; 
 and,  though  you  may  not  assent  to  this  now,  the  time,  I  hope 
 and  trust,  will  come,  when  you  will  assent  to  it.  You  may 
 not  now  believe  that  naturally,  like  all  others,  you  are  an 
 enemy  to  God  and  his  goodness — but  you  must  assent  to  it." 
 
 "May  8. 
 
 "  Take  my  word  for  it,  there  is  inexpressibly  more  enjoyment 
 in  religion,  in  this  life,  than  the  most  happy  sinner  since  crea- 
 tion ever  had  to  boast  of  It  appears  gloomy  at  a  distance,  but, 
 the  nearer  it  approaches,  the  more  delightful  it  becomes.  You 
 know  that  I  am  of  a  social  turn,  that  I  enjoy,  or  did  enjoy, 
 amusements  about  as  well  as  others  did,  and  that  I  have  no  par- 
 ticular reason  for  flying  from  them.  You  know,  too,  that  I  love 
 you,  and  would  promote  your  interest  to  the  extent  of  my  pow- 
 ers. You  may  then  consider  me,  if  you  are  so  disposed,  an 
 impartial  witness  that  the  ways  of  Wisdom  are  ways  of  pleas- 
 antness, and  all  her  paths  peace.  I  hope  and  believe  that  your 
 own  feelings  may  attest  the  truth  of  my  testimony.  That  you 
 may  know  more  and  more  of  it,  is  the  sincere  prayer  of  your 
 friend." 
 
 "  July  7, 
 
 "  I  dare  pledge  any  thing  most  dear  to  me,  that,  if  you  per- 
 sist in  the  diligent  use  of  the  means  suggested,  you  shall  not 
 long  use  them  in  vain.  But,  what  is  infinitely  more  to  the  pur- 
 pose, you  have  the  oath  of  him  who  cannot  lie,  on  which  to 
 ground  your  hopes.  You  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  ask  for 
 faith  ;  to  come,  as  the  leper  did  to  our  Saviour  while  on  earth, 
 
EDWARD    PAY SON. 
 
 55 
 
 and  throw  yourself  at  his  feet  with  '  Lord,  if  thou  wilt,  thou 
 canst  make  me  clean ;'  and  rest  assured  that  he  will  put  forth 
 his  hand  and  say — 'I  will;  be  thou  clean.'  He  is  still  as  able 
 and  as  willing,  *****  to  gfant,  every  request  of  this 
 nature  as  he  was  on  earth.  If  you  really  feel  yourself  a  sinner, 
 and  that  you  have  no  power  to  save  yourself,  and  are  wilhng  to 
 accept  of  him  as  a  Saviour,  he  is  ready  to  receive  you.  Do  not 
 wait,  before  you  accept  his  offers,  to  render  yourself  worthy  of 
 his  favor  by  going  about  to  establish  a  righteousness  of  your 
 own.  He  will  not  be  a  half  Saviour.  He  will  do  all  or  no- 
 thing. If  you  mean  to  come  to  him,  you  must  come  as  a  help- 
 less sinner ;  not  as  the  Pharisee,  with  a  list  of  virtuous  deeds 
 performed,  but  as  the  publican,  with — '  Lord,  be  merciful  to  me 
 a  sinner.'  " 
 
 Scarcely  two  months  had  elapsed  from  the  lime  he  made  a 
 public  profession  of  religion,  before  Mr.  Payson  felt  his  mind 
 embarrassed  in  relation  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Bible  as  under- 
 stood by  Calvinists.  The  first  intimation  of  this  perplexity  is 
 in  the  following  words  : — 
 
 "  I  have  lately  read  Cole's  Discourses.  It  is  a  very  com- 
 fortable doctrine  for  the  elect,  but  not  so  for  the  sinner.  My 
 feelings  say  it  is  true,  but  reason  wants  to  put  in  an  oar.  It  is 
 at  once  encouraging  and  discouraging  to  ministers." 
 
 He  afterwards  expresses  himself  more  fully  on  this  subject, 
 and  in  a  manner  which  shows  that  he  did  not  take  his  religion 
 upon  trust,  but  that  his  subsequent  firm  adherence  to  the  doc- 
 trines of  grace  was  the  result  of  impartial  examination. 
 
 "  I  mentioned  in  a  former  letter  that  I  had  been  reading  Cole. 
 Since  that  I  have  studied,  with  considerable  attention,  Edwards 
 on  the  Will,  and  his  treatise  on  Original  Sin.  I  know  not  what 
 to  do.  On  one  hand,  the  arguments  in  favor  of  Calvinism  are 
 strong ;  and,  what  is  more  to  the  point,  I  feel  that  most  of  them 
 must  be  true;  and  yet  there  are  difficulties,  strong  difficulties, 
 ******  in  the  way.  I  care  very  little  about  them, 
 as  it  concerns  myself;  but  to  think  that  so  many  of  mankind 
 must  be  miserable,  strikes  me  with  disagreeable  feelings,  I 
 
56 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 w'^onder  not  that  the  unregenerate  are  so  bitterly  opposed  to  these 
 doctrines  and  their  professors,  nor  that  they  appear  to  them  as  the 
 ejects  of  blindness  and  superstition.  Poor  Dr.  M.  is  sadly 
 abused  on  this  account,  and  the  most  consummate  scoimdrel  in 
 existence  could  not  merit  worse  epithets  than  the  clergy  of  *  *  * 
 *  *  *  heap  on  him.  I  find,  however,  that  I  have  much  clearer 
 views  of  the  grand,  scheme  of  redemption  than  I  had  ;  and  as  it  re- 
 lates to  myself,  it  appears  a  miracle  of  love  and  mercy  for  which 
 I  never  can  feel,  comparatively  speaking,  any  gratitude.  But 
 v/ith  respect  to  others,  it  does  not  appear  altogether  so  excellent. 
 I  cannot,  however,  complain  of  any  doubts  of  the  truth  of  these 
 points,  more  tlian  I  have  of  the  truth  of  the  Bible ;  but  I  can- 
 not reconcile  them.  1  should  make  poor  work  at  preaching  in 
 my  present  state  of  mind,  for  I  could  neither  advance  such  doc- 
 trines nor  let  them  alone.  Thus  I  am  perplexed.  I  feel  that 
 they  are  true,  yet  seem  to  know  it  is  impossible  they  should  be 
 so.  I  never  would  meddle  with  them,  Avere  I  not,  in  some  meas- 
 ure, obliged  to  by  the  profession  I  have  chosen.  I  almost  long 
 for  death,  that  the  apparent  contradictions  may  be  reconciled." 
 
 There  were  practical  questions,  also,  scarcely  less  embarrass- 
 ing to  his  mind,  and  Avhich  it  required  no  small  skill  in  Christian 
 casuistry  to  determine.  On  account  of  his  situation,  as  well  as 
 the  inexhaustible  fund  of  entertainment  which  he  could  carry 
 into  company,  he  was  frequently  solicited  to  make  one  of  a  vis- 
 iting party,  and  to  mingle  in  society  on  various  occasions.  The 
 nature  of  the  trials  hence  arising,  as  well  as  their  issue,  will  be 
 seen  from  a  few  extracts: 
 
 "After  long  doubting  the  propriety,  and  even  the  lawfulness, 
 of  mixing  at  all  in  society  where  duty  does  not  call,  and  after 
 smarting  a  number  of  times  for  indulging  myself  in  it,  —  more, 
 however,  through  fear  of  olfending,  than  for  any  pleasure  I  find 
 in  it.  — I  am  at  length  brought  to  renounce  it  entirely;  and  it  is 
 not  a  needless  scrupulosity.  It  does  appear  a  duty  to  shun  all 
 communication  with  the  world,  Avhen  there  is  no  well-grounded 
 reason  to  hope  to  do  good.  There  are,  to  be  sure,  many  very 
 plausible  reasons,  but  I  doubt  whether  they  will  bear  the  test  of 
 scripture." 
 
EUWARD    PAYSO  N. 
 
 57 
 
 To  one  who  urged  him  to  go  into  society  and  frequent  public 
 amusements,  he  wrote  :  — 
 
 "Can  a  man  walk  on  pitch,  and  his  feet  not  be  defiled?  Can 
 a  man  take  coals  of  fire  in  his  bosom,  and  his  clothes  not  be 
 burned?  If  he  can,  he  may  then  mix  freely  with  the  world, 
 and  not  be  contaminated.  But  I  am  not  the  one  who  can  do  it. 
 I  cannot  think  it  proper  or  expedient  for  a  Christian  to  go  into 
 any  company,  unless  necessity  calls,  where  he  may,  perhaps, 
 hear  the  name  he  loves  and  reverences  blasphemed,  or  at  least 
 profaned,  —  where  that  book,  which  he  esteems  the  word  of 
 God,  will,  if  mentioned,  be  alluded  to  only  to  waken  laughter 
 or  'adorn  a  tale,'  — where  the  laws  of  good  breeding  are  almost 
 the  only  laws  which  may  not  be  broken  with  impunity,  —  and 
 where  every  thing  he  hears  or  sees  has  a  strong  tendency  to 
 extinguish  the  glow  of  devotion,  and  entirely  banish  seriousness. 
 I  speak  only  for  myself  Others  may  experience  no  bad  effects, 
 but  for  myself,  when  I  go  into  company,  if  it  is  pleasant  and 
 agreeable,  it  has  a  tendency  only  to  fix  my  thoughts  on  earth, 
 from  which  it  is  my  duty  and  my  desire  to  turn  them,  —  to  give 
 me  a  distaste  for  serious  duties,  especially  prayer  and  meditation 
 and  to  render  me  desirous  of  the  applause  and  approbation  of 
 those  with  whom  I  associate.  I  cannot  avoid  feeling  some  de- 
 sire for  its  friendship;  and  this  friendship,  the  apostle  assures 
 us.  and  my  own  experience  feelingly  convinces  me,  is  enmity 
 with  God." 
 
 —  "I  have  at  length  obtained  satisfaction  respecting  my  doubts 
 about  society;  not,  however,  till  I  was  brought  to  give  it  up. 
 After  I  had  done  so.  it  appeared  so  plain  and  proper,  that  I  won- 
 dered how  a  doubt  could  ever  have  arisen  on  this  subject.  Now, 
 I  shall  hardly  see  a  person  in  a  week,  except  our  own  family;  and 
 I  have  no  doubt  of  being  much  happier  for  it.  Two  or  three 
 plain  rules  I  find  of  wonderful  service  in  deciding  all  difficult 
 cases.  One  is,  to  do  nothing  of  which  I  doubt,  in  any  degree, 
 the  lawfulness;  the  second,  to  consider  every  thing  as  unlawful 
 which  indisposes  me  for  prayer,  and  interrupts  communion  with 
 God;  and  the  third  is,  never  to  go  into  any  company,  business, 
 or  situation,  in  which  I  cannot  conscientiously  ask  and  expect 
 the  divine  presence.    By  the  help  of  these  three  rules,  I  settle 
 
 VOL.  I.  8 
 
5S 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 all  my  doubts  in  a  trice,  and  find  that  many  things  I  have  hith- 
 erto indulged  in,  are,  if  not  utterly  unlawful,  at  least  inexpedi- 
 ent, and  I  can  renounce  them  without  many  sighs." 
 
 Referring  to  the  dangers  inseparable  from  worldly  society, 
 he  incidentally  mentions  one  defence  against  their  influence, 
 which  was  only  imaginary  : — "I  consider  it  a  blessing,  or  en- 
 deavor to  do  so,  that  I  do  not  possess  those  talents  for  shining 
 in  company,  which  are  so  apt  to  lead  their  possessors  into  too 
 great  a  fondness  for  gay  and  brilliant  society.  Yet,  I  confess, 
 though  I  am  sensible  they  would  prove  a  snare  to  me,  I  am 
 sometimes  tempted  to  repine  at  the  want  of  them  ;  and  the  grant 
 of  all  my  wishes  would  soon  render  me  the  most  miserable  of 
 beings."  The  circumstances  in  which  this  was  written  preclude 
 all  suspicion  of  its  being  the  language  of  afl^'ectation. 
 
 His  determination  to  exclude  himself  from  company  was  very 
 conscientiously  formed ;  and,  so  far  was  he  from  making  his 
 own  practice  a  law  for  others  in  this  matter,  he  expressly  as- 
 signs his  "  weakness  and  inexperience"  as  the  reason  why  he 
 ''could  not  indulge  in  society  without  detriment."  Besides,  sit- 
 uated as  he  was,  he  saw  "no  medium  between  the  life  of  a 
 hermit  and  that  of  a  votary  of  pleasure."  If  such  were  the 
 alternative,  his  decision  is  to  be  approved.  It  resulted  from  a 
 right  application  of  liis  "  three  plain  rules,"  which  are  certainly 
 scriptural,  and  worthy  of  universal  adoption.  This  course  was 
 not  the  fruit  of  misanthropic  feelings ;  for  no  man  was  more 
 susceptible  of  the  delights  of  friendship,  or  more  highly  appre- 
 ciated its  benefits ;  but  how  "can  two  walk  together,  except 
 they  be  agreed  '?"  His  heart  now  sighed  for  friendships  found- 
 ed on  a  religious  basis.  He  speaks  of  "  a  friend,  with  whom  he 
 could  converse  on  religious  subjects,  as  having  long  been  a  desi- 
 deratum;" and  when  he  thought  he  had  found  such  a  one 
 among  his  former  beloved  associates,  he  expresses  the  most  ar- 
 dent gratitude  to  the  Giver  of  every  good  gift.  "  I  feel  a  satis- 
 faction," he  writes,  "on  this  discovery,  similar  to  what  I  should 
 feel  at  meeting  a  townsman  in  a  desert  island.  Yon,  who  live 
 in  the  midst  of  Christian  friends,  can  hardly  conceive  of  it. 
 Associates  are  pleasant  in  any  pursuit,  but  especially  so  in  this. 
 Two  are  better  than  one.  We  shall  together  be  better  able  to 
 stand  our  ground  against  the  assaults  of  ridicule  and  reproach ; 
 and  may  animate  and  encourage  each  other  in  our  course." 
 
EDWAR  D    PA YSON. 
 
 59 
 
 Having,  in  a  letter  to  his  mother,  expressed  himself  as  ready 
 to  give  almost  any  tiling  he  possessed  for  an  "experienced 
 friend,"  he  anticipates  her  reply — "You  will  say,  perhaps, 
 the  Bible  is  a  friend,  which,  if  duly  consulted,  would  supersede 
 the  necessity  of  any  other  adviser.  It  may  be  so  ;  but  we  are 
 apt  to  be  bad  commentators,  where  we  are  concerned  ourselves. 
 A  friend  can  judge  of  our  concerns,  and  give  us  better  counsel, 
 than,  perhaps,  he  would  give  himself.  We  are  but  poor  casu- 
 ists in  our  own  affairs." 
 
 Some  miscellaneous  extracts  will  now  be  given. 
 
 "  December  8,  1805. 
 "  Though  I  have  experienced  many  and  great  comforts,  yet  I 
 am  at  times  almost  discouraged.  My  heart  seems  to  be  a  soil 
 so  bad,  that  all  labor  is  thrown  away  upon  it;  for,  instead  of 
 growing  better,  it  grows  worse.  What  a  wearisome  task,  or 
 rather  conflict,  it  is,  to  be  always  fighting  with  an  enemy,  whom 
 no  defeats  can  weaken  or  tire.  I  am  afraid,  that  many  of  my 
 desires  to  be  delivered  from  his  power  proceed  rather  from  a  sin- 
 ful impatience,  than  a  better  source.  But  it  is  most  distressing, 
 when  favored  with  manifestations  of  a  Saviour's  love,  to  think 
 we  shall  again  sin  against  and  grieve  him;  especially,  in  the 
 sacrament  of  the  supper,  the  idea  that  I  shall  certainly  go  away 
 and  oifend  him,  who  is  there  set  forth  crucified  before  me,  im- 
 bitters  all  my  happiness." 
 
 "  December  25. 
 
 "  My  dear  sister  :— I  am  not  very  prone  to  indulge  the  idea, 
 that  my  happiness  can  depend  on  change  of  place;  but  when 
 such  fancies  do  gain  admittance,  home  is  always  the  scene  of 
 my  imaginary  bliss.  It  is,  however,  a  remedy  to  consider,  that, 
 however  we  may  be  separated  from  our  friends  in  this  world, 
 yet,  if  we  choose  them  aright,  we  may  indulge  the  hope  of 
 spending  an  eternity  together  in  the  next. 
 
 "  I  have  of  late  taken  some  pleasure  in  recollecting  the  pil- 
 grimages of  our  old  friend  Bimyan,  and  see  a  striking  propriety 
 in  many  parts  of  them,  which  I  did  not  then  rightly  understand. 
 For  some  time  past  I  have  been  with  Tender  Conscience  in  the 
 caves  of  Good  Resolution  and  Contemplation,  and,  like  him, 
 fell  into  the  clutches  of  Spiritual  Pride.    It  is  astonishing,  and 
 
60 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 what  nothing  but  sad  experience  could  make  us  beheve,  that 
 Satan  and  a  corrupt  heart  should  have  the  art  of  extracting  the 
 most  dangerous  poison  from  those  things  which  apparently 
 would,  and  certainly  ought  to,  have  the  most  beneficial  effects. 
 If  I  do  not,  after  all,  fall  into  the  hands  of  old  Carnal  Security, 
 I  shall  have  reason  to  be  thankful.  There  is  such  a  fascination 
 in  the  magic  circle  of  worldly  pleasures  and  pursuits,  as  can 
 hardly  be  conceived  without  experience ;  and  I  am  astonished 
 and  vexed,  to  find  its  influence  continually  thwarting  and  hin- 
 dering me.  And  so  many  plausible  excuses  are  perpetually 
 suggesting  themselves,  that  compliance  can  hardly  be  avoided.'' 
 
 "  January  25. 
 
 "  My  dear  mother  : — In  one  of  the  classics,  which  form  part 
 of  my  daily  occupation,  there  is  an  account  of  a  tyrant,  who 
 used  to  torture  his  subjects,  by  binding  them  to  dead  bodies,  and 
 leaving  them  to  perish  by  an  unnatural  and  painful  death.  I 
 have  often  thought  the  situation  of  a  Christian  is,  in  some 
 respects,  like  that  of  these  poor  wretches.  Bound  to  a  loath- 
 some body  of  sin,  from  which  death  alone  can  free  him.  and 
 obliged  daily  to  experience  effects  from  it  not  much  less  painful 
 and  displeasing  to  him,  than  the  stench  of  a  putrefying  carcass  was 
 to  those  who  were  united  to  it,  he  must  suffer  almost  continual 
 torment.  I  have  lately  felt  doubtful  how  far  a  due  resignation 
 to  the  divine  will  obliges  us  to  submit  with  patience  to  this  most 
 painful  of  all  trials,  and  since  we  know  that  perfection  is  not 
 granted  to  any  in  this  world,  how  far  ought  we  to  extend  our 
 prayers  and  wishes.  I  know  there  is  little  danger  of  being  too 
 much  engaged  in  seeking  deliverance  from  sin;  but  is  there 
 no  danger  of  that  fretful  impatience,  Avhich  we  are  apt  to  feel 
 on  other  occasions,  gaining  admittance  under  the  appearance 
 of  an  earnest  desire  for  holiness  ?  And  is  not  indolence,  and  a 
 wish  to  be  freed  from  the  necessity  of  continual  watchfulness 
 and  conflict,  apt  to  insinuate  itself  into  our  desires  and  petitions 
 for  divine  assistance  1  Sin  is  a  sly  traitor  ;  and  it  is  but  lately  I 
 discovered  it  in  my  bosom ;  and  now  I  am  so  much  afraid  of  it, 
 that  I  hardly  dare  ask  assistance  at  all. 
 
 "  For  this  month  past,  I  have  enjoyed  very  little  of  that  hap- 
 piness which  I  once  rejoiced  in.  Yet,  blessed  be  God  !  I  am 
 not  left  utterly  dead  and  stupid,  and  am  enabled  to  persevere  in 
 
EDWARD    P  A  YSON. 
 
 61 
 
 the  use  of  means,  though  they  seldom  seem  so  productive  of 
 peace  as  they  once  did.  I  hope  I  have  clearer  ideas  of  my 
 strong,  amazingly  strong,  propensity  to  every  thing  that  is  evil, 
 and  of  the  infinite  and  glorious  sufficiency  of  my  Saviour,  than 
 I  had  while  ray  joys  were  greater.  Then  I  was  ready  to  flat- 
 ter myself  that  sin  was  destroyed  ;  but  now  I  find,  by  sad 
 experience,  it  is  not  only  alive,  but  extremely  active  ;  and  had  1 
 not  an  almighty  Helper,  I  should  instantly  give  up  in  despair." 
 
 "  Portland,  Feb.  9,  1806. 
 
 "  My  dear  mother  : — For  many  reasons,  it  is  impossible  that 
 my  letters  should  be  so  acceptable  at  home  as  those  I  receive 
 from  home  are  to  me.  You  have  friends  there,  to  divide  your 
 attention,  to  participate  in  your  care,  and  to  share  and  increase 
 your  pleasures.  But  I  am  alone.  All  my  affections  must  cen- 
 tre at  home,  and,  consequently,  I  must  feel  a  greater  desire  to 
 hear  from  home,  and  to  receive  assurances  that  I  am  not 
 forgotten,  than  my  friends  can  possibly  have,  to  hear  from  me. 
 
 "  I  find  nobody,  except  at  times,  to  whom  I  can  communicate 
 my  joys,  hopes,  desires,  and  fears ;  nobody  who  can  participate 
 my  pleasures  or  sympathize  in  my  griefs.  It  is,  perhaps,  best 
 for  me  that  it  should  be  so ;  but  it  is  very  unpleasant.  Most 
 of  my  acquaintances  consider  me,  as  near  as  I  can  guess,  but  a 
 kind  of  hypocrite,  who  must,  as  a  student  in  divinity,  preserve 
 a  decent  exterior,  in  order  to  be  respected.  However,  it  is  some 
 consolation,  that  they  think  the  same  of  every  one  else.  Their 
 opinion  is  of  very  trifling  consequence.  One  thing  only  I  wish 
 not  to  be  thought,  and  that  is  what  is  commonly  called  a  rational 
 Christian,  an  epithet  which  is  very  frequently  bestowed  on 
 young  candidates,  and  which  is  almost  synonymous  with  no 
 Christian.  Liberal  divines  are  pretty  much  of  the  same  char- 
 acter." 
 
 Portland,  April  1,  1806. 
 "  My  dear  mother  : — I  am  now  entirely  alone,  and,  except  a 
 visit  once  a  fortnight  from  Mr.  R.,  I  see  no  face  withni  my 
 chamber  from  one  week  to  another.  It  is  sometimes  unpleas- 
 ant, but,  I  believe,  very  profitable,  to  be  debarred  from  society. 
 I  am  so  prone  to  trust  to  broken  cisterns,  that  nothing,  but  theii 
 being  out  of  my  reach,  can  restrain  me.  When  I  come  home 
 from  school,  weary  and  dull,  if  I  had  any  earthly  friends  at 
 
62 
 
 M  E  BI  0  I  R  OF 
 
 hand,  I  should  certainly  apply  to  them  for  relief;  but,  not  hav- 
 ing any,  I  am  constrained  to  go  where  I  am  much  more  sure 
 of  finding  it.  I  begin  to  find,  that  the  smiles  with  which  my 
 early  uifancy  was  supported,  are  changing  for  the  less  agreea- 
 ble, but  certainly  not  less  needful,  discipline  of  education  ;  and 
 
 0  what  severe  discipline,  and  how  much  of  it,  shall  I  require  ' 
 
 1  see  already,  that  hard  fare  and  hard  labor  will  be  necessary  to 
 preserve  me  from  '  waxing  fat  and  kicking  ;'  and  if  it  has  this 
 effect,  I  shall  welcome  it  with  pleasure.  It  seems  to  me  one 
 of  the  worst  of  the  hellish  offspring  of  fallen  nature,  that  it 
 should  have  such  a  tendency  to  pride,  and  above  all,  spiritual 
 pride.  How  many  artifices  does  it  contrive  to  hide  itself!  If, 
 at  any  time,  I  am  favored  with  clearer  discoveries  of  my  natur- 
 al and  acquired  depravity  and  hatefulness  in  the  sight  of  God, 
 and  am  enabled  to  mourn  over  it,  in  comes  Spiritual  Pride,  with 
 'Ay,  this  is  something  like  !  this  is  holy  mourning  for  sin  ;  this 
 is  true  humility.'  If  I  happen  to  detect  and  spurn  at  these 
 thoughts,  immediately  he  changes  his  battery,  and  begins : 
 •  Another  person  would  have  indulged  those  feelings,  and  im- 
 agined he  was  really  humble,  but  you  know  better ;  you  can 
 detect  and  banish  pride  at  once,  as  you  ought  to  do.'  Thus 
 this  hateful  enemy  continually  harasses  me.  What  proof  that 
 the  heart  is  the  native  soil  of  pride,  Avhen  it  thus  contrives 
 to  gather  strength  from  those  very  exercises  which  one  would 
 think  must  destroy  it  utterly  ! 
 
 "  My  other  chief  besetting  sin,  which  will  cut  out  abundance 
 of  work  for  me,  is  fondness  for  applause.  When  I  sit  down  to 
 write,  this  demon  is  immediately  in  the  way,  prompting  to  seek 
 for  such  observations  as  will  be  admired,  rather  than  such  as 
 will  be  felt,  and  have  a  tendency  to  do  good.  My  proneness  to 
 these  two  evils,  which  I  have  mentioned,  makes  me  think  I 
 shall  have  but  little  sensible  comfort  in  this  world,  and  that  I 
 shall  be  tried  by  many  and  grievous  afflictions,  in  order  to  keep 
 me  humble  and  dependent.  However,  it  is  of  no  consequence.  I 
 know  my  great  Physician  is  both  able  and  willing  to  cure  me, 
 and  I  leave  the  manner  to  him ;  trusting  that  he  will  enable  me 
 to  take  whatever  he  prescribes,  and  bless  the  prescription." 
 
EDWARD    PAY SON. 
 
 63 
 
 "Portland,  June  17,  1806. 
 
 "  My  dear  mother  : — After  I  have  told  you  that  I  have  been 
 wnwell  some  time  past,  and  that  I  am  now  as  Avell  as  usual,  my 
 stock  of  information  is  exhausted — unless,  indeed,  I  still  make 
 myself  the  subject;  and,  for  want  of  a  better,  I  must.  Owing 
 partly,  I  believe,  to  my  ill  health,  I  have  been  much  afflicted 
 with  doubt,  whether  it  is  not  my  duty  to  give  up  preaching  at 
 all.  I  want,  at  times,  to  get  as  far  back  into  the  country  as 
 possible,  and,  on  a  little  farm,  lead  a  life  as  much  remote  from 
 observation,  as  circumstances  will  allow.  It  seems  to  me  a  lit- 
 tle remarkable,  that  while  I  am  harassed  with  doubts  and  per- 
 plexities about  every  thing  else,  1  feel  none,  or  comparatively 
 none,  about  my  own  state.  If  at  any  time  such  doubts  intrud- 
 ed, they  were  banished  by  that  text,  'I  am  he  that  blotteth  out 
 thy  transgressions,  for  mine  own  sake.'  But,  lately,  the  very 
 absence  of  doubt  has  caused  me  to  doubt ;  for  if  I  were  a  child  of 
 God,  how  should  I  be  free  from  those  doubts  which  trouble  them? 
 But  the  greatest  difficulty  of  all  is.  that  the  certainty  which  I 
 almost  ever  feel  of  my  safety,  should  have  no  more  effect  on  my 
 disposition  and  conduct.  This  seems  to  me  more  unaccountable 
 than  any  thing  else;  for  even  the  devils,  one  would  think,  might 
 and  would  rejoice  to  think  of  approaching  happiness. 
 
 "  I  have  for  some  time,  had  something  like  a  desire  to  become 
 a  missionary.  I  have  not  mentioned  it  before,  because  I  doubted 
 whether  it  would  not  be  only  a  temporary  wish.  I  should  feel 
 less  backward  to  preach  to  savages,  or  white  men  little  above 
 savages,  than  any  where  else.  However,  1  hope  Providence 
 will,  some  way  or  other,  get  me  into  the  place  where  I  shall  be 
 most  useful,  be  it  what  it  may.  I  do  not  feel  very  solicitous  in 
 which  way  or  in  what  situation. 
 
 "  I  shall  be  in  Boston  about  the  23d  of  August,  and,  after  com- 
 mencement, set  out  for  Rindge,  should  nothing  prevent.  At 
 present,  I  can  write  no  more.  The  bearer  is  booted,  whipped, 
 chaired,  and  waiting. 
 
 "  Present  my  most  affectionate  regards  to  pa.    I  shall  make 
 great  encroachments  on  his  time,  when  I  come  home.  * 
 "  Your  affectionate  son, 
 
 "  E.  Payson." 
 
 A  desire  to  become  a  missionary,  in  1806,  was  a  less  dubious 
 
64 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 proof  of  expansive  Christian  benevolence,  than  it  would  be  at 
 the  present  day.  The  obligation  of  Christians  to  send  the  gos- 
 pel to  the  heathen  could  not  have  been  learned  from  any  thing 
 which  the  American  Church  was  then  doing,  or  had  done  for  a 
 long  period.  As  to  any  visible  movement,  she  appeared  as 
 indiiferent  to  the  claims  of  the  unevangelized  tribes  of  men, 
 as  though  her  Redeemer  and  Lord  had  not  left  it  in  charge, 
 to  "preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature."  Mi*.  Payson  was 
 probably  ignorant  that  another  youthful  bosom  in  tlie  country 
 panted  with  the  same  desire ;  though  it  was  about  this  time  if 
 not  this  very  year — a  coincidence  which  they  who  regard  the 
 works  of  the  Lord,  and  the  operation  of  his  hands,  will  notice 
 with  pleasure — that  Samuel  J.  Mills  felt  the  desire,  and  formed 
 the  purpose,  to  devote  his  life  to  the  service  of  Christ  among  the 
 heathen — a  purpose,  liowever,  which  was  known,  first  to  his 
 mother,  and  then  to  a  few  individuals  only,  till  about  four  years 
 afterwards. 
 
 In  the  extracts  which  have  been  inserted  from  his  letters,  the 
 reader  has  discovered  his  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  subtle 
 workings  of  the  human  heart,  and  his  unsleeping  vigilance  to 
 detect  and  guard  against  its  impositions.  His  self-knowledge, 
 and  the  rigid  self-inspection  which  he  habitually  maintained, 
 would  appear  in  a  still  more  striking  light  from  his  private  dia- 
 ry, if  that  were  spread  before  the  public  eye.  Neither  friends 
 nor  foes  could  name  a  fault  in  him,  which  he  had  not  detected, 
 and  condemned  in  terms  of  unsparing  severity.  They  would 
 find  their  sevei'est  judgments  anticipated;  and  they  would  find 
 too  —  what  the  world  little  suspects  of  the  Christian  —  that  the 
 smallest  trespasses  were  the  cause  of  heart-felt  lamentation  and 
 grief  in  those  hours  of  secret  retirement,  when  no  eye  but  Jeho- 
 vah's was  witness  to  his  sorrow.  In  his  example,  the  young 
 aspirant  for  fame  might  see  an  illustration  of  the  wise  man's 
 maxim,  "  before  honor  is  humility  ;"  and  that  the  surest  path  to 
 an  enduring  rcpntation  is  found  by  "  asking  counsel  of  God," 
 and  "acknowledging  him  in  all  our  ways."  Faithfulness, 
 eitlier  to  the  dead  or  the  living,  cannot,  however,  require,  that  a 
 very  free  use  should  be  made  of  the  record  of  what  passed  in 
 the  inward  sanctuary  of  his  soul — a  record  obviously  designed 
 for  his  private  use  only,  and  in  characters  intended  to  be  illegible 
 by  every  eye  except  his  own.    So  much  will,  nevertheless,  be 
 
EDWARD    PA  YSON. 
 
 65 
 
 inserted,  as  is  necessary  to  substantiate  the  representations  in 
 this  narrative,  or  disclose  important  facts  in  his  history,  which 
 could  be  learned  from  no  other  source. 
 
 EXTRACTS  FROM  HIS  DIAKY. 
 
 "  Feb.  5,  1806.  For  this  fortnight  past,  I  have  enjoyed  a  tol- 
 erable share  of  assistance,  but  nothing  transporting.  Slow  pro- 
 gress. 
 
 "  Feb.  7.  Little  opportunity  for  prayer  in  the  morning;  yet 
 God  was  pleased  not  wholly  to  desert  me  during  the  day,  and, 
 in  the  evening,  favored  me  with  clearer  views  of  the  glorious 
 all-sufficiency  of  my  Saviour,  and  of  my  absolute  need  of  him, 
 than  I  have  before  experienced.  I  could,  in  some  measure,  feel 
 that  my  deepest  humiliation  was  rank  pride,  and  all  that  I  am 
 or  can  do,  is  sin.  Yet,  blessed  be  God,  I  can  plead  the  suffer- 
 ings and  perfect  obedience  of  Jesus  Christ,  in  whom,  though 
 weak  in  myself  I  am  strong. 
 
 "  Feb.  8.  There  is  no  vice,  of  which  I  do  not  see  the  seeds 
 in  myself,  and  which  would  bear  fruit  did  not  grace  prevent. 
 Notwithstanding  this,  I  am  perpetually  pulling  the  mote  out  of 
 my  brother's  eye. 
 
 "  Feb.  9.  Was  much  favored  in  prayer,  and  still  more  in 
 reading  the  Bible.  Every  word  seemed  to  come  home  with 
 power.  Of  late,  I  have  none  of  those  rapturous  feelings,  which 
 used  to  be  so  transporting;  but  I  enjoy  a  more  calm  and  equable 
 degree  of  comfort ;  and,  though  slowly,  yet  surely,  find  myself 
 advancing. 
 
 "  Feb.  11.  A  very  dull  day — almost  discouraged  ;  yet  I  hope 
 the  experience  I  gain  of  my  utter  inability  to  think  so  much  as 
 a  good  thought,  will  have  a  tendency  to  mortify  pride. 
 
 "  Feb.  15.  Felt  some  liveliness  in  morning  prayer,  and  some 
 aspirations  after  greater  nieasures  of  holiness.  Resolved  to  ob- 
 serve this  as  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer.  After  seeking 
 divine  assistance,  reflecting  on  the  innumerable  sins,  of  which 
 my  life  has  been  full,  and  on  the  great  aggravations  that  en- 
 hance my  guilt,  I  attempted,  I  hope  sincerely,  to  give  myself  and 
 all  1  possess  to  God,  in  the  renewal  of  my  covenant  engagements. 
 
 "  Feb.  16.  Very  dull  and  lifeless  in  the  morning.  Made  a 
 resolution  to  restrain  my  temper,  and  the  next  moment  broke  it. 
 Felt  more  lively  at  meeting.    In  the  afternoon  and  evening  was 
 
 VOL.  I.  9 
 
66 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 remarkably  favored.  I  felt  such  an  overwhelming  sense  of 
 God's  amazing  goodness,  and  my  own  unworthiness,  as  I  never 
 had  before.  It  gave  me  a  most  earnest  desire  to  spend  and  be 
 spent  in  the  service  of  God,  in  any  way  he  should  please  to  em- 
 ploy me. 
 
 "Feb.  17.  In  the  morning,  felt  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in 
 the  power  of  bis  might ;  thought  I  could  stand  against  all  ene- 
 mies, but  soon  was  as  lifeless  as  ever.  When  shall  I  learn  that 
 all  my  sufficiency  is  of  God. 
 
 "Feb.  19.  What  a  poor,  weak,  unstable  creature  I  am, 
 when  Christ  is  absent !  Read  Baxter's  Saint's  Rest ;  but  though 
 it  is  very  affectingly  written,  I  was  totally  unmoved  by  it. 
 
 "  Feb.  22.  This  is  a  day  to  be  remembered.  I  determined 
 to  spend  it  in  fasting  and  prayer,  but  was  prevented.  In  the 
 afternoon,  received  an  invitation  to  spend  the  evening  with 
 
  ,  ,  &c. ;  but,  thanks  to  divine  goodness,  was  enabled 
 
 to  decline  it.  I  tasted  much  sweetness  in  the  former  part  of  the 
 evening ;  but  in  the  latter  part,  I  was  favored  with  such  dis- 
 plays of  divine  goodness,  as  almost  forced  me  to  exclaim.  Lord, 
 stay  thine  hand ! 
 
 "  Feb.  23.  Was  again  favored  with  the  divine  presence.  I 
 have  some  expectation  of  a  heavy  stroke  impending.  If  it  is 
 so,  God's  will  be  done. 
 
 "Feb.  24.  A  great  falling  off  from  the  enjoyments  and  life 
 of  yesterday ;  yet,  blessed  be  God,  I  am  not  wholly  deserted. 
 I  was  much  favored  in  speaking  to  the  scholars,  and  they  seemed 
 rather  more  affected  than  common.  But  I  have  suffered  much 
 to-day  from  the  attacks  of  spiritual  pride.  This,  I  already  see, 
 will  be  the  enemy  against  which  my  efforts  must  be  directed, 
 and  which  will  cost  me  most  conflicts.  But  I  trust  in  an  al- 
 mighty arm. 
 
 "  Feb.  26.  I  drag  along  without  advancing.  O,  how  dispro- 
 portionate are  my  endeavors  to  the  mighty  prize  for  which  I 
 contend ! 
 
 "  Feb.  28.  Resolved  to  spend  this  day  in  fasting  and  prayer. 
 Did  so,  but  found  no  relief.  Was  astonishingly  dead  and  wan- 
 dering. In  reading  iMr.  Brainerd's  life,  I  seemed  to  feel  a  most 
 ardent  desire  after  some  portion  of  his  spirit;  but,  when  I  at- 
 tempted to  pray,  it  vanished.  I  could  not  even  mourn  over  my 
 coldness. 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 67 
 
 "March  3.  In  the  evening,  partly  by  my  own  fault,  and 
 partly  by  accident,  got  entangled  in  vain  company.  Afterwards 
 was  in  most  exquisite  distress  of  mind.  Had  a  clearer  view  of 
 my  own  sinfulness  and  vilejiess  than  ever. 
 
 "  March  4.  I  seem  rather  to  go  back  than  to  advance.  What 
 a  display  of  divine  power,  to  make  a  saint  of  such  a  wretch 
 as  I ! 
 
 "  March  6.  My  time  flies  like  a  vapor,  and  nothing  is  done. 
 When  shall  I  begin  to  live  for  God  ! 
 
 "  March  8.  I  cannot  accuse  myself  of  indulging  in  any 
 known  sin,  or  neglecting  any  known  duty:  but  I  am  so  lifeless, 
 so  little  engaged  in  religious  things,  that  1  seem  to  believe  as 
 thougli  I  believed  not. 
 
 "  March  10.  Found  considerable  freedom  in  prayer.  Was 
 loo  passionate  in  a  dispute  about  a  theatre.  Had  little  freedom 
 in  speaking  to  the  scholars.  Was  enabled  to  be  diligent  in  fill- 
 ing up  my  time.    Was  assisted  in  my  studies. 
 
 March  12.  I  act  as  if  eternal  things  were  a  dream.  When 
 shall  I  be  wise  ! 
 
 "  March  13.  Favored  with  great  liberty  in  prayer.  Was 
 enabled  to  pray  for  others  more  than  usual. 
 
 "  March  17.  Thanks  to  divine  goodness,  this  has  been  a 
 good  day  to  me.  Was  favored  with  considerable  freedom  in  the 
 morning,  and  rejoiced  in  the  Lord  through  the  day.  But  in  the 
 evening,  felt  an  unusual  degree  of  assistance,  both  in  prayer 
 and  study.  Sjnce  I  began  to  beg  God's  blessing  on  my  studies, 
 I  have  done  more  in  one  week  than  in  the  whole  year  before. 
 Surely,  it  is  good  to  draw  near  to  God  at  all  times. 
 
 '•March  19.  Less  freedom  in  prayer  than  usual.  In  the 
 evening,  was  betrayed  into  folly  if  not  into  sin.  Could  neither 
 write  nor  read  with  any  profit.  What  a  miserable  creature  am 
 I,  when  Jesus  withdraws  his  assistance  !  Was  very  positive  in 
 a  trifle,  and  was  justly  punished  by  finding  myself  in  the  wrong. 
 Hope  it  will  prove  a  profitable  lesson  to  me. 
 
 "  March  23.  Am  much  exercised  respecting  applying  for 
 license  to  preach,  and  afraid  I  am  under  the  influence  of  im- 
 proper motives  ;  but  I  trust  my  Guide  will  direct  me. 
 
 "  March  28.  Read  Pike's  Saving  Faith ;  and,  though  at  first 
 1  was  somewhat  alarmed  with  fears  that  I  had  it  not,  yet,  bles 
 sed  be  God,  my  fears  and  doubts  were  soon  removed.    I  wa» 
 
G8 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 enabled  to  appeal  to  God  for  a  witness  of  what  he  has  done  for 
 me.  I  know  that  I  love  my  Saviour  ;  and,  though  my  love  is 
 infinitely  short  of  his  merits,  I  trust  He  who  gave  it  me  can 
 and  will  increase  it.  I  am  sinful  but  He  died  for  sinners.  Felt 
 imusual  fervency  and  sweetness  in  prayer,  and  reading  the 
 Scriptures,  and  was  encouraged  to  go  on,  striving  for  more  ho- 
 liness. 
 
 "  M.-VRCH  29.  Renewed  my  covenant  with  God.  Asked  as- 
 sistance to  do  it  with  sincerity.  My  prayer  was  answered  in  au 
 imusual  degree.  I  had  a  clearer  view  of  my  own  vileness  and 
 depravity,  and  a  more  distinct  and  satisfying  perception  of 
 Christ's  all-sufficiency  and  goodness,  by  far,  than  I  ever  enjoyed 
 before ;  so  that  I  was  ready  to  think  I  had  never  known  any 
 thing  of  the  matter.  Was  enabled  to  say  Abba  Father  !  in  the 
 true  spirit  of  adoption,  and  to  exercise  strong  faith  in  Christ 
 and  love  to  him. 
 
 "  March  30.  Had  more  comfort  in  ordinances  than  ever  before. 
 I  was  almost  ready  to  think  this  the  period  of  my  conversion. 
 The  transport  I  felt  was  more  rational  and  penetrating  than  I 
 ever  before  experienced.  It  arose  from  an  apprehension  of  the 
 perfect  sufficiency  of  Christ  in  all  his  offices,  and  from  a  clear 
 discovery  of  God  as  my  Father,  so  that  I  was  enabled  to  trust, 
 rejoice,  and  exult  in  him. 
 
 "  April  2.  Was  enabled  in  some  measure  to  guard  against  a 
 peevish,  impatient  disposition.  In  the  evening,  unusually  lively 
 and  fervent  in  prayer. 
 
 "  April  5.  Was  very  much  harassed  with  wandering 
 thoughts  this  morning.    Sought  to  Christ  for  deliverance,  and 
 
 found  it         Have  fresh  reason  to  think  visiting  is  detrimental. 
 
 In  the  evening,  was  exceedingly  depressed  with  a  sense  of  my 
 vileness.  I  wished  to  shrink  from  society  and  observation. 
 Could  hardly  think  of  attempting  to  preach.  Threw  myself  at 
 the  feet  of  my  blessed  Saviour,  and  poured  forth  my  sorrows 
 and  complaints  before  him.  Yet  I  suspect  there  was  more  of 
 self  than  any  other  principle  in  my  tears. 
 
 "  April  8.  Was  much  exercised  to-day  on  the  subject  of 
 election,  and  other  truths  cormected  with  it.  Have  been  much 
 m  doubt  respecting  offering  myself  for  examination  next  month. 
 Fear  I  am  not  under  the  influence  of  proper  motives. 
 
 "  April  13.       Sabbath.    Felt  the  love  of  God  sweetly  shed 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 69 
 
 abroad  in  my  heart.  Continued  in  this  frame  all  the  morning. 
 Derived  much  more  advantage  from  ordinances  than  usual,  espe- 
 cially from  the  sacrament.    A  profitable  day. 
 
 "April  14.  Was  in  a  comfortable  frame  this  morning.  Had 
 some  assistance  in  speaking  to  my  scholars.  But,  alas !  my 
 heart  before  noon  betrayed  me  into  sin.  I  fell  into  a  passion 
 Avith  an  inanimate  substance ;  and  ihought,  if  I  did  not  utter, 
 curses.    Was  soon  aroused  to  a  sense  of  my  folly  and  guilt. 
 
 "  April  19.  I  know  not  why,  but  this  has  been  the  worst  week 
 I  have  had  these  six  months.  Believe  I  expected  too  much  from 
 the  sacrarrient. 
 
 "  April  20.  Had  some  sense  of  my  miserable  state,  but  little 
 fervency  in  seeking  relief.  Suspect  the  weather  and  my  health 
 have  some  influence  on  me.  In  the  evening,  had  more  fervency, 
 but  not  more  sensible  assistance.  Was,  however,  resigned  to  my 
 Master's  will,  and  enabled  to  trust  in  him. 
 
 "April  26.  Was  much  favored  in  my  approaches  to  the 
 throne  of  grace  to-day. 
 
 "  May  1.  Rose  early,  and  had  some  life  and  comfort.  Have 
 been  so  much  engaged  in  preparing  my  sermon  for  examination, 
 that  my  mind  lias  been  much  taken  off  from  religion.  I  find 
 Avriting  sermons  is  not  praying. 
 
 "  May  4.  It  is  now  long  since  I  have  enjoyed  any  of  those 
 sweet  seasons  of  communion  with  God,  which  used  to  be  my 
 chief  happiness.  I  fear  I  have  neglected  the  Scriptures  too 
 much.    Am  determined  to  pay  more  attention  to  them. 
 
 '•  May  13.  This  was  the  day  in  which  I  intended  to  be  ex- 
 amined before  the  Association,  but  it  pleased  Providence  to  pre- 
 vent. In  the  evening,  reflected  on  my  late  coldness  and  back- 
 wardness in  religion,  and  resolved,  by  the  help  of  divine  grace, 
 to  run  with  more  alacrity  the  race  set  before  me. 
 
 "  May  18.  I  think  I  never  was  so  favored  in  prayer  for  so 
 long  a  period  in  my  life.  At  meeting,  tolerably  lively.  In  the 
 intermission,  and  after  meeting,  was  enabled  to  spend  the  time 
 profitably,  so  that  I  never  was  favored  with  a  more  profitable 
 Sabbath. 
 
 "  May  19.  Enjoyed  considerable  fervor  in  the  morning, 
 and  some  life  in  speaking  to  my  scholars.  Engaged  in  a 
 dispute  at  breakfast  ;  and  foolishly  became  angry.  Retired 
 and  prayed  for  him  with  Avhom  I  was  angry,  and  for  myself. 
 
70 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 Was  enabled,  in  a  considerable  degree,  to  conquer  my  anger  in 
 this  matter. 
 
 "  May  20.  Find  some  remains  of  anger,  notwithstanding  all 
 my  endeavors  to  suppress  it. 
 
 "  May  22.  Since  I  began,  in  pursuance  of  my  design,  to  read 
 the  Scriptures,  I  have  enjoyed  more  of  the  divine  presence  than 
 before. 
 
 "May  23.  Was  favored  in  prayer. — Was  applied  to  by 
 the  selectmen  to  deliver  an  oration  on  the  4th  of  July.  Refused 
 at  first ;  but,  being  persuaded  to  consider  of  it,  pride  and  vanity 
 prevailed,  and  I  foolishly  complied. — Mem.  Never  to  consider, 
 when  I  have  a  presentiment,  at  first,  what  I  ought  to  do. 
 
 "  Sabbath,  June  1.  Sacrament.  Enjoyed  much  of  the  divine 
 presence  and  assistance  in  prayer  and  meditation.  Have  never 
 had  a  more  profitable  morning.  Found  my  Saviour  in  his 
 ordinances.  Hope  I  have  found  this  a  good  day.  Seemed  to 
 feel  more  property  in  Christ  and  his  benefits  than  I  had  ever 
 done  before.  After  meeting,  Avas  filled  with  the  blessed  con- 
 solations of  the  Spirit.  O,  how  refreshing  are  those  foretastes 
 of  heaven  !  How  ravishing  the  presence  of  Jesus  !  Felt  a 
 full  assurance  of  my  interest  in  the  blessings  purchased  by 
 Christ.  No  doubts  obscured  the  sunshine  of  my  mind.  God 
 be  praised. 
 
 "  June  9.  Resolved  to  spend  all  the  time  before  six  in  relig- 
 ious exercises.    Enjoyed  some  comfort  in  prayer. 
 
 "June  15.  Sabbath.  Never  felt  such  strong  and  lively  faith 
 in  prayer  as  this  morning.  It  seemed  as  if  I  had  nothing  to  do 
 but  to  take  whatever  I  pleased. 
 
 "  June  17.  Was  much  harassed  with  wandering  thoughts  in 
 morning  prayer.    Was  much  assisted  in  my  studies. 
 
 "  June  28.  Felt  myself  exceedingly  vile.  Found  no  com- 
 fort in  the  exercises  of  public  worship.  My  oration  is  a  snare 
 to  me.  O,  what  an  astonishing,  bewitching  power  a  thirst  for 
 applause  has  over  my  mind  !  I  know  it  is  of  no  consequence 
 what  mankind  think  of  me,  and  yet  I  am  contmually  seeking 
 their  approbation. 
 
 "  June  29.  Sabbath.  Rose  early,  and  was  favored  with  the 
 presence  and  assistance  of  the  blessed  Spirit  in  prayer.  O,  how 
 sweet  and  refreshing  it  is  to  pour  out  our  souls  before  God ! 
 O,  the  wonderful  and  unmerited  goodness  of  God,  in  keeping 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 71 
 
 me  from  openly  disgracing  my  profession  !  If  he  had  left  me 
 one  moment  to  myself,  I  had  been  ruined.  Next  Sabbath  is  the 
 sacrament.  God  grant  that  it  may  be  a  refreshing  season  to  me, 
 and  many  others. 
 
 "  July  2.  Still  harassed  and  perplexed  about  my  oration. 
 Could  not  have  believed,  that  the  desire  of  applause  had  gained 
 such  power  over  me. 
 
 July  4.  Was  enabled  to  ask  for  assistance  to  perform  the 
 services  of  the  day.  In  the  evening,  felt  in  a  most  sweet,  hum- 
 ble, thankful  frame.  How  shall  I  praise  the  Lord  for  all  his 
 goodness ! 
 
 "July  5.  Felt  much  of  the  same  temper  I  experienced  yes- 
 terday. In  the  evening,  was  favored  with  much  of  the  divine 
 presence  and  blessing  in  prayer. — Mem.  Applause  cannot  con- 
 fer happiness  ! 
 
 "  July  6.  Sabbath.  My  infinitely  gracious  God  is  still  pres- 
 ent, to  make  his  goodness  pass  before  me.  He  has  been  with 
 me  this  morning  in  prayer,  and  enabled  me  sweetly  to  say.  My 
 Father,  my  God.  At  the  sacrament,  my  gracious  Saviour  favored 
 me  with  some  tokens  of  his  presence.  O  that  I  could  find  words 
 to  express  half  his  goodness,  or  my  own  vileness  !  I  hope 
 my  faith  received  some  increase.  But  what  I  desire  to  praise 
 my  God  for,  is  his  wonderful  goodness  in  assisting  me  against 
 pride. 
 
 "  July  7.  Still  favored  with  the  smiles  of  my  blessed  Lord. 
 Surely  his  loving  kindness  is  better  than  life.  How  conde- 
 scendingly kind !  I  hope  he  is  teaching  me  the  value  of 
 ■worldly  applause,  and  how  incompetent  it  is  to  afibrd  happi- 
 ness. I  have  had  enough  to  satisfy  me,  if  there  were  any  satis- 
 faction in  it.    But  happiness  is  to  be  found  in  God  alone. 
 
 "  July  18.  Very  little  comfort  in  prayer.  Have  fallen  into  a 
 sad,  lifeless  state  the  week  past.  Hope  it  will  convince  me,  more 
 strongly  than  ever,  of  my  weakness  and  vileness.  Sat  up  till 
 2  o'clock  at  night,  talking  with  Mr.  ,  on  religious  top- 
 ics. Found  he  had  more  to  say  in  defence  of  Unitarianism, 
 than  I  could  have  supposed. 
 
 "  July  23.  I  am  entirely  stupid.  Am  sensible  of  my  situa- 
 tion, and  mourn  over  it,  in  some  measure,  but  cannot  escape. 
 
 "  July  24.    No  life  at  all.    O  that  it  were  with  me  as  in 
 
72 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 months  past !  In  the  evening,  was  favored  with  more  of  the 
 divine  presence  than  I  have  enjoyed  this  fortnight. 
 
 "  July  25.  Spent  the  day,  according  to  previous  resolution, 
 in  fasting  and  prayer.  Was  favored  with  much  of  the  divine 
 presence  and  blessing,  so  that  it  was  a  comfortable  and  profita- 
 ble day  to  me.  Called  to  mind  the  events  of  my  past  life,  the 
 mercies  I  have  received  and  the  ill  returns  I  have  made  for 
 them.  Felt  a  deep  sense  of  my  own  unworthiness,  and  the  un- 
 merited goodness  of  God. 
 
 "  July  27.  Was  alarmed  with  respect  to  my  state,  by  read- 
 ing Edwards  on  the  Atfections ;  but  obtained  comfort  and 
 assurance  by  prayer. 
 
 "  Aug.  2.  Was  much  engaged  in  prayer,  and  thought  I  was 
 humbled  under  a  sense  of  sin.  Was  enabled  to  plead  ^vith 
 some  earnestness  for  spiritual  blessings.  But  afterwards,  read- 
 ing an  account  of  the  conversion  of  some  persons,  I  was  led  to 
 doubt  Avhether  I  had  ever  known  what  it  meant,  and  was  much 
 distressed. 
 
 "Aug.  3.  Was  again  disturbed  with  apprehensions  that  I 
 knew  nothing  of  religion ;  but,  though  I  could  not  come  to 
 Christ,  as  one  of  his  members,  I  threw  myself  down  before 
 him,  as  a  sinner,  who  needed  his  mediation,  and  my  doubts 
 vanished. 
 
 "  Aug.  4.  Rose  with  the  impression,  that  all  I  had  formerly 
 experienced  was  a  delusion,  and  that  I  was  still  an  enemy  to 
 God.  Was  enabled  to  go  to  Jesus,  and  plead  earnestly  for  mercy, 
 not  for  my  own  sake,  but  for  his.  I  seem  determined,  if  I  must 
 perish,  to  perish  at  his  feet ;  but  perhaps  I  was  deceived.  How- 
 ever, my  hopes  began  to  revive.  In  the  evening,  foolishly  went 
 into  company,  and  had  no  time  for  prayer. 
 
 "  Aug.  16.  Seemed  to  be  something  more  alive  to  divine 
 things,  this  morning.  Found  some  sweetness  in  prayer  and 
 reading  the  Scriptures.  In  the  evening,  was  much  assisted  iu 
 jtreparation  for  the  sacrament  to-morrow." 
 
CHAPTEE  IV. 
 
 Retires  to  Rindge,  and  devotes  himself  exclusively  to  his  preparation  for  tlie 
 niinisti-y. 
 
 In  the  month  of  August,  1806,  Mr.  Payson  relinquished  his 
 charge  of  the  Academy  in  Portland;  and  "after  settling  his 
 business,  went  on  board  a  packet  for  Boston,"  in  which  he 
 remained  several  days,  "  tossed  about  by  contrary  winds,  and 
 wounded  by  the  oaths  and*  blasphemies  of  the  wretches  on 
 board."  He  described  "  a  set "  of  his  fellow  passengers  by  two 
 words,  indicative  of  all  that  is  revolting  to  modesty  and  pious 
 feeling,  and  suited  to  "  vex  the  righteous  soul ;"  the  bare  men- 
 tion of  which  would  cause  others  to  join  him  in  the  exclamation, 
 "  How  dreadful  to  spend  an  eternity  among  such  wretches  !" 
 On  the  fifth  day  from  his  embarkation,  the  vessel  "  arrived  in 
 Boston  in  a  violent  gale  of  Avind,  attended  with  some  danger." 
 He  tarried  in  the  neighborhood,  till  after  commencement,  and, 
 notwithstanding  the  "noise  and  confusion,  found  more  pleasure 
 than  he  had  expected,  in  meeting  his  classmates."  On  his  way 
 from  Cambridge  to  Rindge,  he  rode  as  far  as  Groton ;  but 
 vvliether  the  stage  rested  there  over  night,  or  took  a  different 
 route,  and  his  desire  to  tread  again  the  threshold  of  his  beloved 
 home,  alone  urged  him  forward — so  it  was,  that  he  left  the 
 stage,  and  "  walked  home  from  Groton  after  six  "  in  the  evening 
 and  was  at  his  journey's  end  "  about  four  the  next  morning," 
 ready  to  receive  the  congratulations  of  his  friends."  His  father's 
 liouse  continued,  from  this  time,  to  be  his  hallowed  and  chosen 
 retirement,  till  he  entered  on  the  active  duties  of  the  ministry 
 
 VOL.  I.  10 
 
74 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "  Wisdom's  self 
 Oft  seeks  to  sweet  retiied  solitude  ; 
 Where,  with  her  best  nurse,  Contemplation, 
 She  plumes  her  feathers,  and  lets  grow  her  wings." 
 
 This  Step  considered  iu  all  its  aspects,  may  justly  be  regarded 
 as  one  of  the  most  important  in  Mr.  Payson's  life,  and  reflects 
 the  highest  honor  on  his  judgment  and  good  sense.  Four 
 months  previously  to  this  time,  as  has  been  seen  in  the  preceding 
 pages,  he  seriously  contemplated  making  application  for  license 
 to  preach  the  gospel.  Whatever  were  the  cause  that  prevented 
 him,  a  gracious  providence  is  visible  in  it ;  not  that  he  was  par- 
 ticularly deficient  in  sacred  learning;  on  the  contrary,  his  theolog- 
 ical knowledge  Avas  probably  equal  to  that  of  most  candidates. 
 Among  the  works  which  he  is  known*  to  have  read  with  care, 
 might  be  named  Watson's  Tracts,  Witsius,  Stackhouse,  Jona- 
 than Edwards,  besides  many  works  of  devotion  and  practical 
 divinity.  Abstracts  of  several  other  treatises  still  exist  in  his 
 hand-writing,  which  were  made  before  he  left  Portland  ;  also  a 
 collection  of  "  Thoughts  on  the  Composition  and  Delivery  of 
 Sermons."  Still,  during  all  this  time,  he  was  invested  with  a 
 public  trust  of  no  light  responsibility.  His  school  must  have 
 mainly  engrossed  his  time,  his  thoughts,  and  his  cares.  To 
 suppose  that  his  professional  studies  were  allowed  more  than  a 
 secondary  claim  to  his  attention,  were  to  suppose  him  un- 
 faithful to  an  important  charge,  which  he  had  voluntarily 
 assumed.  And  though  he  could  hardly  have  been  other  than  a 
 distinguished  preacher,  even  had  he  entered  on  the  sacred  office 
 without  further  preparation,  yet  he  would  not  have  been  the 
 minister  he  afterwards  was.  This  season  of  retirement  has  an 
 intimate  connexion  with  his  subsequent  eminence  and  useful- 
 ness. To  the  occupations  of  these  days  of  seclusion  from  the 
 world,  more  than  to  any  other  means,  may  be  traced  his  gigan- 
 tic "  growth  in  the  knowledge  of  God,"  and  that  extraordinary 
 unction  which  attended  his  performance  of  official  duties. 
 
 *  His  progress  in  some  of  them  is  noted  iu  his  diai7,  near  the  "  hiatus ' 
 already  spoken  of,  which  probably  contained  more  notices  of  the  same  kind. 
 The  diaiy.  which  was  "  commenced  as  a  check  upon  the  misemployment 
 of  time,"  and  which  did  at  first  record  the  occupations  of  eveiy  hour,  ere 
 long  became  almost  exclusively  a  record  of  his  religious  exercises  and  expe- 
 rience. 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 75 
 
 This  period  of  his  history  is  memorable,  and  highly  instruc- 
 tive to  the  student  of  theology.  Having,  after  much  delibera- 
 tion and  prayer,  chosen  the  ministry  of  reconciliation  as  the 
 business  of  his  future  life,  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  work  of 
 preparation  with  an  exclusiveness  and  ardor  perhaps  never  ex- 
 ceeded. From  every  study  and  pursuit,  whatever  its  charms 
 and  attractions,  which  was  not  directly  subsidiary  to  his  grand 
 design,  he  resolutely  divorced  himself, — at  least  till  he  had 
 acquired  the  art — analogous  to  the  supposed  properties  of  the 
 philosopher's  stone — "of  turning  all  to  gold."  He  seems  to 
 have  concentrated  and  directed  all  his  powers  to  the  acquisition 
 of  spiritual  knowledge,  and  the  cultivation  of  Christian  and 
 ministerial  graces,  in  obedience  to  the  apostolical  precept,  "  give 
 thyself  wholly  to  them."  A  decision  once  formed  was  with 
 him  usually  final ;  and,  in  executing  his  purpose,  "  whatever  his 
 hand  found  to  do  he  did  with  his  might."  These,  his  permanent 
 characteristics,  were  eminently  conspicuous  at  this  period,  while 
 learning  to 
 
 "negotiate  between  God  and  man; 
 As  God's  ambassador,  the  grand  concerns 
 Of  judgment  and  of  mercy." 
 
 With  the  most  exalted  views  of  the  holy  office  to  which  he  was 
 looking  forward,  and  of  the  qualifications  requisite  to  its  com- 
 petent and  successful  execution,  he  sought  them  with  a  propor- 
 tionate zeal,  devoting  himself  to  the  study  of  the  sacred  pages, 
 if  man  ever  did,  "  with  all  the  heart,  and  soul,  and  strength, 
 and  mind." 
 
 For  "  Systems  of  Divinity,"  as  drawn  up  by  men,  Mr.  Payson 
 seems  to  have  felt  but  little  reverence.  It  was  not  his  habit  to 
 decry  them  as  useless  ;  but  he  regarded  them  with  a  watchful 
 jealousy,  and  felt  it  unsafe  to  trust  to  them,  as  his  practice  evi- 
 dently demonstrates.  He  found  "  a  more  excellent  way  "  to  the 
 Icnowledge  of  his  Master's  will,  by  consulting  directly  "  the  law 
 and  the  testimony."  Thus  to  honor  the  "  lively  oracles  "  is  the 
 wisest  and  safest  course  for  every  man  ;  for  to  embrace  a  systen), 
 Avith  the  intention  of  retaining  or  rejecting  it,  either  wholly  or  in 
 part,  as  it  shall  afterwards  be  found  to  ag""ee,  or  not,  with  Scrip- 
 ture, is  to  incur  the  hazard  of  perpetuating  error — since  a  man's 
 theory  is  more  likely  to  modify  his  views  ot  ihe  Scriptures,  than 
 
76 
 
 IM  E  i\I  0  I  R  OF 
 
 the  Scriptures  are  to  correct  the  mistakes  of  his  theory.  This 
 every  one  may  have  observed  in  regard  to  those  whose  senti- 
 ments difier  from  liis  own.  Before  this  time,  indeed,  the  works 
 of  the  most  eminent  divines  of  our  own  and  other  countries, 
 whicli  were  tlien  accessible,  and  which  he  is  known  to  have 
 read,  had  doubtless  exerted  some  influence  in  forming  his  relig- 
 ious opinions ;  but  he  was  obviously  wedded  to  none.  To 
 none  did  he  feel  the  attachment  of  a  partizan ;  he  had  not 
 arrived  to  that  state  of  mind  which  made  him  feel  interested  to 
 defend  an  opinion  because  any  human  master  had  said  it.  The 
 polluting  and  disorganizing  tendency  of  loose  opinions  on  the 
 one  hand,  and  the  scarcely  less  deplorable  efl'ects  of  dogmatism 
 on  the  other,  which  could  not  have  escaped  his  observation,  not 
 less  than  the  spirit  of  religion  and  his  constitutional  indepen- 
 dence of  mind,  conspired  to  lead  him  to  a  just  estimate  of  the 
 value  of  human  authority  in  matters  of  religious  belief,  and  to 
 consummate  his  reverence  for  the  "  sure  word  of  prophecy," 
 and  his  confidence  in  Revelation,  as  an  adequate  foundation  for 
 his  faith,  and  an  infallible  guide  in  duty. 
 
 "Here  is  fiim  footing — all  is  sea  beside." 
 
 Most  men,  however  discordant  their  principles,  profess  to 
 have  derived  them  from  the  Scriptures;  but,  with  Mr.  P.,  this 
 was  something  more  than  pretence.  The  Bible  Avas  with  him 
 the  subject  of  close,  critical,  persevering,  and,  for  a  time,  almost 
 exclusive  attention,  his  reading  being  principally  confined  to 
 such  writings  as  would  assist  in  its  elucidation,  and  unfold  its 
 literal  meaning.  In  this  manner  he  studied  the  whole  of  the 
 Inspired  volume,  from  beginning  to  end,  so  that  there  was  not  a 
 verse  on  which  he  had  not  formed  an  opinion.  This  is  not 
 asserted  at  random.  It  is  but  a  few  years  since,  that,  in  con- 
 versation with  a  candidate  for  the  ministry,  he  earnestly  recom- 
 mended very  particular  and  daily  attention  to  the  study  of  the 
 Scriptures,  and  enforced  his  counsel  by  his  own  experience  of 
 the  advantages  which  would  accrue  from  the  practice.  He  ob- 
 served that  before  he  commenced  preaching.he  made  it  his  great 
 object  to  know  what  the  Bible  taught  on  every  subject,  and, 
 with  this  purpose,  investigated  every  sentence  in  it  so  far  as  to 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 77 
 
 be  able  to  give  an  answer  to  every  man  who  should  ask  a 
 reason  for  it."  * 
 
 In  this  way  he  acquired  his  unparalleled  readiness  to  meet 
 every  question,  on  every  occasion,  whether  proposed  by  a  cav- 
 iller or  a  conscientious  inquirer,  which,  it  is  well  known,  he 
 usually  did  in  a  marmer  as  satisfactory  as  it  often  was  unex- 
 pected. The  advantages  hence  derived  were,  in  his  view, 
 beyond  all  computation.  It  secured  for  him  the  imlimited 
 confidence  of  people  in  the  common  walks  of  life,  as  a  "man 
 mighty  in  the  Scriptures."  It  gave  him  great  intluence  with 
 Christians  of  other  denominations.  It  enabled  him  to  confound 
 and  silence  gainsayers,  when  they  could  not  be  convinced,  as 
 well  as  to  build  up  the  elect  of  God  on  their  most  holy  faith.  It 
 furnished  him,  too,  with  ten  thousand  forms  of  illustration,  or 
 modes  of  conveying  to  ordinary  minds  the  less  obvious  truths, 
 with  which  he  was  conversant  in  the  exercise  of  his  ministry. 
 He  believed  "all  Scripture  to  be  given  by  inspiration  of  God, 
 and  profitable  for  doctrine,  for  reproof,  for  correction,  and  for 
 histruction  in  righteousness;"  and  he  was  himself  a  striking 
 exemplification  of  its  competency  to  render  "  the  man  of  God 
 perfect,  thoroughly  furnished  unto  every  good  work." 
 
 Of  Mr.  Payson's  devotion  to  the  Scriptures  there  is  evidence 
 of  a  different  nature  from  that  which  has  just  been  given. 
 Among  his  papers  has  been  found  a  small  manuscript  volume 
 containing  "  Notes,"  on  most  of  the  books  of  Scripture.  It  is 
 among  the  few  interesting  relics  of  this  period  of  his  life.  The 
 manuscript  ends  with  remarks  on  1  John.  v.  8.  Whether  they 
 were  continued,  in  another  volume,  to  the  end  of  Revelation, 
 
 *  It  is  not  liere  alleged  that  Dr.  Payson  comprehended  all  that  is  contained 
 in  the  Scriptures,  nuioh  less  that  he  arrogated  to  himself  such  knowledge  ; 
 for  though  "  the  word  of  Christ  dweh  richly  "  in  him,  he  doubtless  continued 
 to  "  increase  in  the  knowledge  of  God  "  by  every  perusal  of  it,  how  often  so- 
 ever repeated,  till  tlie  last,  and  even  then  saw  as  through  a  glass,  darkly, 
 compared  with  the  visions  of  heaven.  Some  truths  cannot  be  fully  compre- 
 hended, and  may  have  various  relations  which  never  will  be  known  on  earth. 
 Many  things  resjiecting  unfulfilled  predictions  can  be  known  by  no  man  till 
 after  their  accomplishment.  But  he  had  made  every  passage  a  distinct  object  of 
 attention,  and,  if  "hard  to  be  understood,"  he  could  state  to  tho  inquirer  the 
 causes  of  the  obscurity,  and  in  the  veiy  fact  find  a  powerful  motive  to  liumil- 
 ity,  diligence,  and  prayer  for  divine  illumination,  thus  rendering  tlie  darkest 
 texts  "  profitable." 
 
78 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 does  not  appear.  These  notes  are  short  in  themselves,  and  much 
 abbreviated  in  the  form  of  expression,  but  bear  marks  of  a  kind 
 and  extent  of  investigation  highly  creditable  to  his  learning* 
 and  judgment,  as  well  as  to  his  diligence  and  fidelity.  Discrep- 
 ancies are  accounted  for  and  reconciled  ;  figures  are  explained  ; 
 chronology,  philosophy,  topograhy,  natural  history,  ancient 
 languages,  are  made  to  contribute  to  the  elucidation  of  Scrip- 
 ture. Agamst  prophecies,  which  have  received  their  completion, 
 are  found  references  to  the  historical  characters  and  events  by 
 which  they  are  supposed  to  have  been  fulfilled.  It  is  difficult 
 to  characterize  these  notes  by  any  general  term,  except  that 
 they  are  exegetical,  in  distinction  from  practical  and  experimen- 
 tal. Those  on  the  New  Testament  are  professedly  collated,  in 
 part;  and,  though  the  same  should,  on  examination,  be  found 
 true  of  the  rest,  the  manuscript  is  evidence  of  his  careful  study  of 
 the  Scriptures  ;  and  for  this  purpose  it  was  introduced  to  notice. 
 
 To  learn  more  fully  Mr.  Payson's  estimate  of  the  Scriptures, 
 the  reader  should  peruse,  in  this  connexion,  his  sermon,  entitled 
 "  The  Bible  above  all  Price."  In  that  discourse  the  preacher  is 
 much  at  home  ;  he  treads  on  ground  where  he  delighted  to  linger. 
 He  explores  a  field  with  whose  riches  and  beauties  he  was  famil- 
 iar. He  clusters  together  its  excellencies  with  a  dexterous  and 
 bountiful  hand,  and  describes  its  efficacy  like  one  who  "  spoke 
 that  which  he  knew,  and  testified  that  which  he  had  seen."  His 
 familiarity  with  the  Scriptures  was  strikingly  apparent  in  his 
 pulpit  addresses  generally ;  not  so  much  by  long  quotations  as 
 by  their  general  spirit,  and  the  sacred  associations  he  was 
 continually  awakening.  They  bore  prominent  traces  of  the 
 divine  model  he  so  faithfully  studied,  not  in  matter  only,  but  in 
 the  manner  of  exhibiting  it, —  so  plain,  that  his  hearers  could 
 not  but  see  it, —  enforced  by  considerations  so  reasonable  and 
 moving,  that  they  must  feel  self-condemned  for  rejecting  it. 
 They  were  not  the  cold  abstractions  of  a  speculative  mind,  but 
 the  doctrines  which  are  according  to  godhness,  clothed  in  the 
 fervid  language  which  affection  dictates.    They  were  not  truths 
 
 *  To  what  extent  Dr.  Payson  was  familiar  witli  tlie  original  language  of  the 
 Old  Testament,  the  writer  is  not  informed.  That  it  was  among  the  objects 
 of  his  attention  at  this  time,  there  is  evidence  in  his  own  hand-writing ;  but 
 none  vei-y  conclusive  that  his  acquaintance  with  Hebrew  was  minute  and 
 critical. 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON, 
 
 79 
 
 merely  ;  but  truths  uttered  by  one  who  had  felt  their  power,  and 
 experienced  their  consolations,  under  the  influence  of  that  Spirit, 
 who,  to  use  his  own  expressive  language,  "lives  and  speaks  in 
 every  line." 
 
 But  there  is  another  part  of  his  example  more  difficult  to  imi- 
 tate than  the  one  just  sketched.  He  prayed  without  ceasing. 
 Aware  of  the  aberrations  to  which  the  human  mind  is  liable,  he 
 most  earnestly  sought  the  guidance  and  control  of  the  Holy 
 Spirit.  He  felt  safe  nowhere  but  near  the  throne  of  grace.  He 
 may  be  said  to  have  studied  theology  on  his  knees.  Much  of 
 his  time  he  spent  literally  prostrated,  with  the  Bible  open  before 
 him,  pleading  the  promises — "  I  will  send  the  Comforter — and 
 when  he,  the  Spirit  of  truth,  is  come,  he  will  guide  you  into  all 
 truth."  He  was  especially  jealous  of  his  own  heart,  and  to  con- 
 quer its  evil  propensities,  subjected  his  body  as  well  as  his  mind 
 to  the  severest  discipline.  No  man  ever  strove  harder  to  "mor- 
 tify the  flesh,  with  the  affections  and  lusts."'  It  is  almost  in- 
 credible, what  abstinence  and  self-denial  he  voluntarily  under- 
 went, and  what  tasks  he  imposed  on  himself,  that  he  might 
 "  bring  every  thought  into  captivity  to  the  obedience  of  Christ." 
 He  allowed  himself  only  a  small  part  of  the  twenty-four  hours 
 for  sleep ;  *  and  his  seasons  of  fasting  were  injuriously  fre- 
 quent. So  far  did  he  carry  his  abstinence  from  food,  that  his 
 family  were  alarmed  for  his  safety.  Often  has  his  mother, 
 whom  he  most  tenderly  loved  and  reverenced,  and  whose 
 wishes  were  law  to  him,  in  every  thing  besides  his  religious 
 principles,  and  intercourse  with  his  Maker — in  every  thing,  in 
 short,  Avhich  did  not  bind  the  conscience — often  has  his  mother, 
 or  a  favorite  sister,  stood  at  the  door  of  his  chamber  with  a  little 
 milk,  or  some  other  refreshment  equally  simple,  pleading  in  vain 
 for  admission. 
 
 *  The  following  division  and  appropriation  of  his  time  was  entered  in  his 
 diary  about  five  weeks  after  his  return  to  his  father's : 
 
 "  Oct.  5.  Resolved  to  devote,  in  future,  twelve  hoiu-s  to  study;  two  to  de- 
 votion; two  to  relaxation;  two  to  meals  and  family  devotions;  and  six  to 
 sleep."  But  this  did  not  long  satisfy  him.  His  rigid  notions  of  duty  led  him 
 to  subtract  two  hours  from  the  six  devoted  to  sleep,  and  to  multiply  his  sea- 
 sons of  fasting  to  a  degree  which  the  human  system  could  not  long  have 
 sustained.  A  weekly  fast,  however,  was  habitual  with  him,  from  this  time 
 till  his  lust  sickness. 
 
80 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 The  expediency  or  duty  of  such  severe  mortification  turns  on 
 the  question  of  its  necessity  to  the  attainment  of  the  object,  for 
 which,  in  this  instance,  it  was  practised.  If  the  suhjection  of 
 the  heart  and  mind,  with  all  their  powers,  to  Christ,  could  not 
 otherwise  be  effected,  he  was  unquestionably  right;  for  no  sacri- 
 fice or  suffering,  which  is  requisite  to  this,  can  be  too  great. 
 "  If  thy  right  hand  off'end  thee,  cut  it  off;  if  thine  eye  cause 
 thee  to  offend,  pluck  it  out."  It  is  moreover  true,  that  the  most 
 eminent  saints  of  ancient  and  later  times  have  devoted  frequent 
 seasons  to  private  fasting  and  prayer;  and  the  practice  may, 
 therefore,  be  ranked  among  the  essential  means  of  rapid  and  ex- 
 tensive growth  in  grace.  It  were  well  for  individuals,  it  were 
 Avell  for  the  chinch,  if  the  practice  should  revive,  and  become 
 common.  *  So  far  from  weakening  the  charities  of  life,  or 
 diminishing  the  amount  of  active,  social  duties,  it  would  greatly 
 enhance  them.  We  should  witness  a  more  vigorous  and  deter- 
 mined piety,  a  more  diffusive  and  efficient  benevolence. 
 
 Still  the  religion  of  Christ  enjoins  no  needless  austerities.  It 
 has  at  times  called,  and  may  again  call,  for  the  sacrifice  of 
 health,  and  life,  and  treasure ;  for  the  renunciation  of  friends 
 and  home,  and  all  its  endearments.  But  in  ordinary  circum- 
 stances, "  Godliness  is  profitable  unto  all  things — to  the  life 
 that  now  is,  as  well  as  that  which  is  to  come."  It  did  not 
 require  injurious  excess  of  abstinence  and  mortification  in  one 
 situated  as  Mr.  Payson  was.  He  afterwards  saw  his  error — 
 not  in  fasting,  but  in  fasting  so  long — and  lamented  it.  In  this 
 matter,  his  mother  was  the  wiser  counsellor.  "What  she  feared 
 came  upon  him ;  the  unhappy  consequences  to  his  health  were 
 felt,  it  is  believed,  to  his  dying  day. 
 
 *  There  are  some  distinguished  laborers  in  tiie  vineyard  of  our  Lord,  who 
 practise  tlie  essential  fhity  here  recommended,  not  so  much  by  totally  ab- 
 staining from  food  beyond  the  accustomed  intervals,  as  by  "  denying  them- 
 selves" at  every  meal,  and  using  a  spare  and  simple  diet  at  all  times, — a 
 course  well  adapted  to  presei-ve  both  mind  and  body  in  the  best  condition 
 for  biblical  research  and  devotional  exercises.  This  modification  of  the  duty 
 was  much  jiractised  by  Mr.  Payson,  and  strongly  recommended  by  him  to 
 the  members  of  his  church.  He  would  have  them,  when  fasting  on  their 
 own  private  account,  not  "appear  unto  men  to  fast;"  but  to  come  to  the 
 table,  which  was  spread  for  their  families,  with  a  cheerful  countenance,  and 
 partake  sparingly  of  its  provisions. 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 81 
 
 The  truth  is,  Mr.  Paysoii  never  did  any  thing  by  halves. 
 Whatever  were  the  objects  immediately  before  him,  he  was 
 Mas  in  illis,  wholly  engrossed  with  them.  He  was  therefore 
 particularly  liable,  at  this  stage  of  his  experience,  glowing,  as 
 he  did,  with  all  the  ardors  of  a  first  love,  and  panting  for  the 
 honor  of  winning  souls  to  Jesus,  to  give  an  undue  intensity  to 
 the  meaning  of  those  passages  which  prescribed  his  personal 
 duty.  When  he  read  the  strong  language  of  Paul — "  mortify 
 your  members,  that  are  upon  the  earth  ;"  and  contemplated  his 
 example  —  "I  keep  under  my  body,  and  bring  it  into  subjec- 
 tion ;"  and  desired  above  all  things  to  be  another  such  cham- 
 pion of  the  cross ;  his  susceptible  and  ardent  mind  might  have 
 imbibed  views  of  duty,  which  needed  to  be  corrected  by  another 
 remark  of  the  same  apostle  —  "bodily  exercise  profiteth  little." 
 When  attended  with  the  expectation,  however  latent,  that  it 
 will  purchase  immunities,  or  merit  heaven,  so  far  from  "  profit- 
 ing" at  all,  it  vitiates  the  act,  rendering  it  not  only  useless,  but 
 abominable.  Such  an  expectation,  however,  was  totally  ab- 
 horrent to  all  Dr.  Payson's  views  ;  and  its  existence  in  the 
 faintest  degree  is  not  to  be  supposed  on  any  other  principles 
 than  those  which  are  common  to  men,,  whose  deceitful  hearts 
 practise  innumerable  impositions,  unsuspected  by  their  pos- 
 sessors. 
 
 If  "he  who  ruleth  his  spirit  is  greater  than  he  who  taketh 
 a  city,"  the  rigid  discipline  and  government,  to  which  Mr.  Pay- 
 son  subjected  the  passions  of  the  mind,  and  the  appetites  of  the 
 body,  afford  the  most  conclusive  proof  of  his  real  greatness,  as 
 well  as  of  his  decision  and  energy  of  character,  and  of  his 
 unshaken  adherence  to  his  purposes.  Ignorance  and  preju- 
 dice, under  a  show  of  superior  discernment,  will  see  in  this 
 conduct  the  future  "  pope ;"  for  prejudice,  like  malice,  will 
 remain  blind  to  one  important  fact,  which  should  never  be  lost 
 sight  of  in  estimating  Mr.  Payson's  character.  Except  in 
 things  expressly  enjoined  in  the  Scriptures,  he  never,  at  this 
 time  or  afterwards,  made  his  own  practice  a  law  for  others. 
 If  he  "bound  heavy  burdens  and  grievous  to  be  borne,"  he 
 did  not  "  lay*  them  on  other  men's  shoulders,"  but  made  his 
 own  bear  their  oppressive  weight.  He  urged  self-denial,  prayer, 
 and  fasting,  indeed,  as  he  was  obliged  by  the  authority  under 
 which  he  acted ;  but  left  the  measure  and  degree  to  the  decis- 
 VOL.  I  ]  1 
 
82 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 ion  of  each  man's  conscience.  He  knew  more  than  others  of 
 the  strength  of  depravitj^  in  his  own  heart,  and  supposed  he 
 had  need  of  severe  measures  to  subdue  it ;  that  it  was  of  a 
 "  kind,"  of  which  he  could  not  be  dispossessed  "  but  by  prayer 
 and  fasting."  He  rightly  judged,  too,  that  a  minister  of  the 
 meek  and  self-denying  Jesus  needed  a  more  than  ordinary 
 share  of  humihty  and  self-government,  to  be  separated  farther 
 from  the  contaminations  of  the  world  than  other  men,  and 
 to  have  the  habitual  state  of  his  affections  more  heavenly. 
 Moreover,  he  had  an  overwhelming  sense  of  ministerial  respon- 
 sibility, and  looked  forward  to  the  office,  not  without  hope 
 indeed,  but  yet  trembling  for  the  results.  Why  then  should  he 
 not  learn  to  "endure  hardness  as  a  good  soldier  of  Jesus 
 Christ?"  And  yet  thousands  of  nominal  Christians  will  cen- 
 sure this  severe  regimen,  as  criminal,  by  whom  he  would 
 have  been  suffered  to  escape  without  animadversion,  had  he 
 indulged  in  an  occasional  surfeit,  and  mingled  in  parties  of 
 pleasiu-e. 
 
 But  who  can  say,  that  he  was  not  moved  by  an  influence 
 which  it  would  have  been  sinful  to  resist,  at  least  till  he  had 
 reached  that  limit,  beyond  which  perseverance  was  excess? 
 That  God,  who  sees  the  end  from  the  beginning,  fits  his 
 instruments  for  the  peculiar  service  which  he  is  preparing  for 
 them.  A  great  and  arduous  work  was  appointed  for  Mr. 
 Payson,  as  the  event  proved.  And  for  that  kind  of  prepara- 
 tion, which  consists  in  fasting  and  communion  with  God,  he 
 had  the  high  example  of  the  Jewish  lawgiver,  and  of  One 
 greater  than  Moses.  Thus  did  Christ,  our  Exemplar,  previous 
 to  entering  on  his  public  ministry ;  and  also  when  from 
 among  his  disciples  he  "  chose  twelve,  whom  he  named 
 apostles."  Thus  did  the  apostles,  after  Christ's  ascension, 
 whenever  they  were  called  to  set  apart  a  brother  to  the  work 
 of  the  ministry. 
 
 In  this,  however,  and  other  duties,  the  time,  manner,  and  ex- 
 tent of  which  are  left  undetermined  by  the  express  statutes  of 
 Christ's  kingdom,  it  is  safer  to  act  according  to  our  convictions 
 of  duty,  for  the  time  being,  than  to  make  these  convictions  our 
 imchangeable  rule  of  conduct  for  future  time.  It  is  a  wise  di- 
 rection, "  Be  not  rash  with  thy  mouth,  and  let  not  thy  heart  be 
 hasty  to  utter  any  thing  before  God."    In  binding  ourselves  by 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON 
 
 83 
 
 vows  to  any  course  of  conduct,  regard  should  be  had  to  our  cir- 
 cumstances, as  social  beings,  dependent  on  one  another,  as  well 
 as  on  the  Author  of  our  existence.  No  man,  perhaps,  ever 
 reached  any  high  degree  of  eminence,  who  did  not  form  pur- 
 poses and  resolutions,  and  adhere  to  them,  when  formed,  with 
 som6  degree  of  constancy.  There  are  obvious  advantages  in 
 having  our  general  course  marked  out  before  us — in  prosecut- 
 ing our  various  duties  by  system,  and  not  at  random.  But  when 
 we  descend  to  details,  and  assign,  beforehand,  to  every  hour  of 
 the  day  its  employment,  or  oblige  ourselves  to  fill  up  a  given 
 number  of  hours  with  a  particular  pursuit,  we  should  not  over- 
 look the  limits  of  human  ability,  nor  the  thousand  changes 
 which  may  take  place  in  our  circumstances,  and  in  our  relations 
 v/ith  those  beings,  among  whom  God  has  placed  us.  In  conse- 
 quence of  such  changes,  other  duties  may  have  a  paramount 
 claim  to  those  very  hours;  and  if  our  resolutions  are  formed 
 without  an  eye  to  such  contingencies,  they  may  prove  a  snare 
 to  us.  Disappointments  will  be  unavoidable ;  vexation  and 
 discouragement  will  ensue.  It  is  not  to  be  presumed  that  Mr. 
 Payson  formed  his  purposes  without  reference  to  the  vicissitudes 
 of  the  human  condition.  Still,  his  chagrin  on  failing  sometimes 
 to  accomplish  them,  affords  reason  to  think  that  he  might  have 
 been  too  sanguine.  It  is  a  little  remarkable,  that  the  next  day 
 after  he  had  sketched  the  plan  for  his  future  daily  employment, 
 unforeseen  events  necessarily  prevented  his  executing  it : — 
 
 "Oct.  6.  In  great  confusion  this  morning — sister  sick  — 
 father  going  a  journey — little  time  for  prayer.  Was  so  much 
 hindered  in  various  ways,  that  I  did  not  fulfil  my  twelve  hours  " 
 
 From  causes  equally  beyond  his  control,  he  often  failed  of 
 accomplishing  all  that  he  prescribed  to  himself.  Such  were, 
 nevertheless,  his  most  laborious  days.  When  hindered  and 
 diverted  from  his  object,  he  would  goad  himself  onward  to  ex- 
 traordinary exertion ;  and  when  successful  in  executing  his 
 plan,  his  satisfaction  was  exquisite. 
 
 The  influence  of  habitual  prayer  upon  his  studies,  was  so 
 certain,  and  so  operative,  that  the  strength  of  his  devotion 
 seems,  for  the  most  part  to  have  been  the  measure  of  his  pro- 
 gress.   By  his  very  near  approaches  to  the  Father  of  lights,  his 
 
84 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 mind  received,  as  it  were,  the  direct  beams  of  the  Eternal 
 Fountain  of  ilhmiination.  In  the  light  of  these  beams,  the 
 truths  of  religion  were  distinctly  perceived,  and  their  relations 
 readily  traced.  These  irradiations  from  the  throne  of  God  not 
 only  contributed  to  the  clearness  of  his  perceptions,  but  imparted 
 a  kind  of  seraphic  energy  and  quickness  to  his  mental  opera- 
 tions. From  them  he  derived,  not  light  only,  but  heat.  Few 
 requests  were  urged  by  him  more  constantly  and  earnestly, 
 than  his  petitions  for  assistance  in  study ;  and  not  unfrequently 
 he  records  results  similar  to  the  following — "  Was  much  assisted 
 in  my  studies  this  evening,  so  that,  notwithstanding  I  was  inter- 
 rupted, I  was  enabled  to  write  twelve  pages  of  my  sermon.  It 
 was  the  more  precious,  because  it  seemed  to  be  in  answer  to 
 prayer."  Those,  who  would  esteem  such  an  "evening's  work " 
 as  too  insignificant  to  be  noticed  with  special  gratitude,  should 
 know,  that  he  had  now  been  only  part  of  a  month  in  his  retire- 
 ment. Three  days  later  he  writes — "  Was  most  remarkably 
 assisted  in  study,  so  that  I  wrote  three  fourths  of  a  sermon." 
 And  on  the  other  hand,  there  are  entries  of  a  different  character. 
 One  may  serve  as  a  specimen  : — 
 
 "  Sept.  23.  Was  quite  dull  and  lifeless  in  prayer,  and,  m 
 consequence,  had  no  success  in  study." 
 
 Sometimes  even  his  "  lively,"  fervent  prayers  were  not  fol- 
 lowed by  immediate  returns  ;  but  when  the  answer  was  granted, 
 it  brought  with  it  a  rich  compensation  for  the  extreme  per- 
 plexity and  distress,  which  the  delay  occasioned  him:  — 
 
 "  March  4.  Was  entirely  discouraged  respecting  my  studies, 
 and  almost  determined  to  give  up  in  despair.  But  see  the 
 goodness  of  God !  He  enabled  me  to  write  a  whole  sermon, 
 besides  reading  a  great  deal ;  and  in  the  evening,  was 
 pleased  to  lift  up  the  light  of  his  countenance  upon  me.  O, 
 how  refreshing,  strengthening,  and  animating  are  his  smiles ! 
 How  ravishing  the  contemplation  of  his  holiness,  love,  wis- 
 dom, power  and  goodness !  He  seemed  to  be  a  boundless 
 ocean  of  love ;  and  the  sight  caused  my  heart  to  expand  with 
 love  to  him  and  all  his  creatures.  O,  how  trifling  do  earthly 
 beauties  appear,  when  he  is  pleased  to  unveil  his  face,  and 
 
EDWARD  PATSON. 
 
 86 
 
 give  a  glimpse  of  heaven  !  His  holiness  is  the  chief  glory  of 
 Ins  nature." 
 
 But  in  nothing  was  his  progress  more  rapid,  than  in  self- 
 knowledge.  Here — whether  success  or  disappointment  crown- 
 ed his  other  pursuits — he  was  continually  extending  his 
 discoveries.  To  those  who  are  ignorant  of  "  the  plague  of  their 
 own  heart,"  his  confessions  of  sin  must  appear  extravagant, 
 and  his  description  of  his  heart,  a  picture  having  no  original 
 save  in  an  apostate  spirit.  He  calls  it  "  a  compound  of  every 
 thing  bad."  He  likens  it  to  the  "bottomless  pit;  out  of  it, 
 as  soon  as  the  door,  with  which  the  Holy  Spirit  covers  it,  is 
 opened  by  his  absence — a  thick,  noisome  smoke  arises,  with  a 
 tribe  of  hellish  locusts,  that  devour  the  tender  plants  of  grace, 
 and  bring  on  a  darkness  which  may  be  felt."  Now,  he  is 
 "  crushed  into  the  very  dust  by  a  recollection  of  the  sins  of  his 
 youth;" — now,  "filled  with  distressing  feelings,  and  loses  all 
 hope,  that  he  shall  ever  be  fit  to  preach ;"  while  tliese  very 
 feelings  he  attributes  to  a  criminal  cause,  as,  "disappointed 
 pride,  and  a  conscious  inferiority  to  others."  At  another  time, 
 he  is  "  brought  into  temptations,  which  show  his  niward  cor- 
 ruptions, against  which  he  had  been  praying,"  or  which  he  had 
 not  before  suspected  in  himself  Again,  if  he  "attempts  to  ap- 
 proach the  throne  of  grace,  whole  floods  of  evil  imaginations 
 carry  him  away!  so  that  he  is  fain  to  have  recourse  to  un- 
 thought-of  methods  to  get  rid  of  them."  And,  not  to  prolong 
 the  enumeration,  he  is  oppressed  with  "  such  a  sense  of  his 
 insignificance  and  vileness,  that  it  seemed  as  if  he  should  never 
 open  his  mouth  any  more,  to  boast,  complain,  or  censure." 
 
 Still,  his  religion  diflered  as  widely  from  that  of  the  mere 
 ascetic,  as  Christian  charity  differs  from  selfishness.  Its  fruits 
 demonstrate  the  genuineness  of  the  stock.  His  first  care  was, 
 indeed,  to  have  his  own  "  heart  right  with  God  ;"  but  he  was, 
 at  the  same  time,  fertile  in  good  devices,  and  prompt  to  execute 
 them.  To  his  mother,  under  domestic  trials,  the  nature 
 of  which,  though  not  indicated,  appears  to  have  caused  her 
 bitterness  of  soul,  he  was  eminently  "  a  son  of  consolation." 
 To  other  members  of  the  family  he  strove  to  be  useful.  The 
 eye,  that  could  penetrate  the  walls  of  his  chamber,  might  have 
 seen  him  conducting  a  younger  brother  to  the  throne  of  grace. 
 
86 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 kneeling  with  him  before  the  mercy-seat,  and  interceding  Avith 
 God  for  his  salvation.  He  encountered  a  journey  for  the  ex- 
 press purpose  of  visiting  an  early  friend,  of  whose  piety  he  had 
 once  some  hope,  but  who,  he  feared,  had  now  become  indiffer- 
 ent to  the  one  thing  needful — that  he  might  know  his  state, 
 and  encourage  him  to  seek  that  good  part,  which  could  not  be 
 taken  from  him.  And  so  much  were  his  benevolent  feelings 
 drawn  forth  towards  the  inhabitants  of  his  native  town,  that  he 
 spared  no  suitable  exertions  for  their  spiritual  good.  A  revival 
 of  religion  among  them  was  the  subject  of  fervent  prayer;  and 
 in  the  same  object  he  endeavored  to  enlist  other  Christians.  He 
 procured,  through  the  agency  of  his  mother,  the  institution  of  a 
 weekly  meeting  of  female  members  of  the  church,  for  united 
 prayer  that  the  work  of  God  might  be  revived.  In  short,  so 
 far  was  he  from  being  bound  up  in  self,  that  he  exerted  himself 
 for  the  good  of  others  in  such  ways  as  were  proper  for  one  in  a 
 state  of  pupilage. 
 
 Even  in  the  most  distressing  parts  of  his  experience,  there 
 are  discoverable  those  characteristics,  which  distinguish  it 
 from  the  torturing  convictions  of  the  unrenewed  soul.  If  he  is 
 in  "  a  sullen,  stupid  frame,"  it  is  not  without  "  some  melting 
 desires  after  God."  If  he  is  well-nigh  "  overcome  by  tempta- 
 tion," i-t  is  that  he  may  "rejoice  the  more  at  his  deliverance, 
 when  God  gives  him  the  victory."  If  he  is  "  discouraged  be- 
 cause of  the  difficulties  of  the  way,  and  the  small  progress 
 which  he  makes,"  just  as  "  all  hope  seems  departing,  the  lire 
 burns  within  him."  Uniformly,  his  war  is  with  himself,  and 
 not  with  his  God.  And  if  to  prevent  the  night-watches,  that 
 he  might  meditate  on  God's  word  ;  if  to  love  the  habitation  of 
 his  house,  and  the  place  where  his  honor  dwelletli ;  if  to  ac- 
 count himself  and  all  things  else  as  nothing  for  Christ's  sake ; 
 if  to  know  in  whom  he  has  believed,  and  to  draw  near  to  him 
 in  full  assurance  of  faith  ;  if  to  be  satisfied  as  with  marrow 
 and  fatness,  while  remembering  God  and  meditating  on  him  in 
 the  night-watches;  if  to  prevent  the  dawning  of  the  morning 
 by  the  cries  of  prayer;  if  to  prefer  Jerusalem  above  one's 
 chief  joy — are  scriptural  marks  of  piety ;  then  is  his  placed 
 beyond  suspicion.  All  these,  and  more,  will  be  recognised  in 
 the  extracts  from  his  journal,  with  which  this  chapter  con- 
 cludes: — 
 
EDWARD    P AYSON. 
 
 87 
 
 "Sept.  29.  Had  a  most  transporting  view  of  God's  g-lory  as 
 consisting  in  pure  holiness.  1  rejoiced  greatly  that  he  reigned, 
 and  could  exalt  his  own  glory.  Henceforth,  I  will  not  doubt 
 of  my  character ;  for  I  know,  yea,  assuredly  know,  that  I  love 
 God,  my  Saviour,  and  holiness. 
 
 "  Oct.  19.  Sabbath.  Rose  with  thoughts  of  God  on  my 
 mind.  Was  exceedingly  assisted  in  secret  and  in  family  prayer. 
 Never  had  my  desires  and  affections  so  much  drawn  out  after 
 God  and  holiness.  Was  filled  with  the  gracious  influences  of 
 the  Spirit,  so  that  I  rejoiced  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of 
 glory.  Never  did  earth  appear  so  small,  heaven  so  desirable, 
 the  Saviour  so  precious,  holiness  so  lovely,  God  so  glorious,  as 
 now.  In  reading  the  Scriptures,  they  seemed  to  open  with  a 
 clearness  and  force  which  delighted  and  astonished  me.  Such 
 a  sweet,  calm,  soul-satisfying  joy  I  never  felt  before  in  so  great 
 a  degree.  Nothing  on  earth  seemed  worth  a  serious  thought, 
 but  to  glorify  God.  Had  much  of  the  same  temper  through  the 
 day.  Was  more  assisted  at  meeting  than  ever  before.  In  the 
 evening,  had  a  clearer  sense  of  the  evil  of  sin,  a  greater  hatred 
 of  it,  and  more  fixed  resolutions  against  it  than  ever.  This  has 
 been  by  far  the  most  profitable  and  blessed  day  to  my  soul,  that 
 I  ever  experienced.    God  be  praised  ! 
 
 "  Oct.  25.  Was  much  depressed  with  a  view  of  the  numer- 
 ous enemies  which  oppose  my  journey  heavenward.  Had  a 
 faint  glimpse  of  Christ,  as  able  to  carry  me  through  in  spite  of 
 all.  Nerer  before  had  such  a  clear  idea  of  the  passage  —  If  the 
 righteous  scarcely  are  saved.  Seemed  to  be  plunged  in  a  bot- 
 tomless ocean  of  sin  and  corruption,  from  which  no  eftbrtsof  my 
 own  could  free  me. 
 
 "  Nov.  2.  Sacramental  Sabbath.  Blessed  be  God,  who  has 
 caused  his  loving  kindness  to  appear.  Enjoyed  much  assistance 
 in  family  and  secret  prayer.  Was  enabled  to  drag  my  sins  to 
 Christ,  beseeching  him  to  slay  them  for  me.  Afterwards,  en- 
 joyed great  sweetness  in  meditation.  Was  preserved,  in  some 
 Ineasure,  from  wandering  thoughts  at  meeting.  Had  a  profit- 
 able, though  not  a  very  happy  time  at  communion.  After  meet- 
 ing, was  favored  with  considerable  liberty  in  family  and  secret 
 devotions. 
 
 "  Nov.  10.  Had  petitioned,  last  night,  that  I  might  awake 
 at  a  given  hour:  my  petition  Avas  granted,  and  I  was  assisted 
 
88 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 in  prayer.*  Felt  my  dependence  on  God  for  strength.  "Was 
 surprisingly  favored  all  day.  Was  in  a  sweet,  humble  frame. 
 1  admired  and  loved  the  work,  which  Christ  had  wrought  in 
 my  heart  by  his  Spirit,  just  as  1  should  have  admired  it  in  any 
 other.  My  faith  seemed  to  be  unusually  strong,  able  to  grapple 
 with  any  thing.  I  felt  all  day,  that  I  depended  entirely  on  Christ 
 for  the  continuance  of  my  strength. 
 
 "  Nov.  18.  After  retiring  to  rest  last  night,  was  favored  with 
 an  extraordinary  display  of  divine  grace.  I  rejoiced  that  the 
 Lord  reigned,  that  Jesus  was  exalted  far  above  principalities 
 and  powers.  I  was  permitted  to  approach  very  near  him,  and 
 to  plead  with  much  confidence  and  earnestness  for  myself  and 
 others.  Waked  several  times  in  the  night  in  the  same  frame. 
 In  the  morning  was  favored  with  still  clearer  views,  and  more 
 near  access  to  my  Saviour,  and  rejoiced  with  joy  unspeakable 
 and  full  of  glory.  Could  not  find  words  to  utter  my  praises  for 
 such  goodness.  Had,  too,  a  most  humiliating  view  of  my  own 
 vile  and  odious  nature. 
 
 "  Nov.  19.  My  gracious  God  is  still  loading  me  with  his  un- 
 merited goodness.  His  mercies  follow  each  other,  as  wave 
 follows  wave,  and  the  last  seems  ever  the  greatest.  This 
 morning,  I  seem  to  enjoy  the  happiness  of  heaven. 
 
 "  Nov.  21.  Resolved  to  spend  this  day  in  fasting  and  prayer 
 for  greater  measures  of  grace,  and  assistance  to  render  me  more 
 humble  and  concerned  for  God's  glory;  for  more  love  to  God 
 and  his  people,  and  for  ministerial  qualifications.  After  seeking 
 the  divine  presence,  for  which  I  was  enabled  to  plead  with  great 
 earnestness,  and  a  feeling  sense  that  I  could  do  nothing  without 
 it,  I  endeavored  to  recollect  and  confess  my  sins.  I  saw  myself 
 exceedingly  vile,  seemed  the  chief  of  sinners,  to  be  worse  than 
 
 *  Referring  to  an  alternative,  which  might  affect  liis  temporal  comfort 
 merely,  and  not  his  usefulness,  Mr.  Payson  somewhere  says — "I  would  not 
 degrade  prayer  so  mucli  as  to  make  it  the  subject  of  a  petition."  Those  who 
 thiiik  he  here  forgets  his  own  maxim,  should  know  that  the  loss  of  his  morn- 
 ing hours  was  followed  by  a  day  of  comparative  uselessness  and  misery.  It 
 is,  however,  our  shame,  that  the  standard  of  personal  piety  should  now  ren- 
 der necessary  an  apology  for  such  childlike  simplicity  in  the  devotions  of  a 
 man  of  his  acknowledged  magnanimity.  In  nothing  does  he  appear  more 
 worthy  of  imitation,  than  in  his  constant  recognition  of  a  Superintending 
 Pi-ovideuce,  and  in  litei-ally  acknowledging  God  in  all  his  ways. 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 8D 
 
 the  evil  spirits,  and  thought  that  the  lowest  place  in  hell  was 
 my  due.  *  *  *  *  I  felt  the  most  ardent  desire  for  God's 
 glory,  and  was  willing  to  be  a  stepping  stone, '  or  any  thing, 
 however  mean,  to  promote  it.  To  be  a  fellow-laborer  with  Christ, 
 in  the  glorious  work  of  bringing  souls  to  him,  seemed  to  be  the 
 most  delightful  and  honorable  of  all  offices;  and  in  this  service, 
 I  felt  willing  to  spend  and  be  spent;  to  sulfer  pain,  contempt, 
 and  death  itself. ,  Felt  a  most  intense  love  for  Christ's  people, 
 and  was  willing  to  be  below  them  all. 
 
 "  Nov.  26.  As  soon  as  I  awoke,  felt  my  soul  go  forth  in 
 longing  after  more  holiness,  and  promised  myself  much  comfort 
 in  prayer.  But  my  Lord  withdrew  himself,  and  I  could  do 
 nothing.  Felt  convinced  that  it  was  a  dispensation  of  love  for 
 my  good. 
 
 "  Nov.  29.  Never  was  enabled  to  plead  with  such  earnest- 
 ness and  submission  before.  My  mouth  was  filled  with  argu- 
 ments, and  I  seemed  to  have  both  my  Saviour  and  the  blessed 
 Spirit  go  with  me,  and  plead  for  me  at  the  throne  of  grace. 
 Was  favored  with  a  clear  view  of  my  Saviour's  beauty  and  ho- 
 liness, and  of  the  scheme  of  salvation  by  him.  What  a  glorious 
 design,  and  how  worthy  of  its  Author  ! 
 
 "  Dec.  1.  Favored  with  an  uncommon  spirit  of  prayer. 
 Saw  that,  as  a  member  of  Christ,  I  might  pray  with  as  much 
 certainty  of  being  heard  as  Christ  himself.  Was  enabled  to 
 plead  his  merits,  sufferings,  death,  God's  gracious  promises, 
 what  he  lias  already  done  for  me,  the  operations  of  his  own 
 Spirit,  and  his  own  conduct  in  hearing  others — as  reasons 
 why  he  should  hear  me.  *  *  *  Was  graciously  assisted  in 
 pleading,  till  I  received  an  answer  of  peace.  Was  most  sweetly 
 melted  with  a  vi'ew  of  the  love  of  the  blessed  Trinity,  dis- 
 played in  the  work  of  redemption,  ahd  the  vile,  ungrateful 
 returns  I  had  made. 
 
 "  Dec.  5.  Felt  a  full  persuasion,  that  my  present  dark,  com- 
 fortless state  is  only  designed  for  good,  to  teach  me  humility, 
 dependence,  and  weanedness  from  the  world  ;  and  if  it  has  this 
 effect,  I  welcome  it  with  joy. 
 
 "  Dec.  6.  All  my  proud  and  selfish  feelings  seemed  to  be 
 annihilated.  I  saw  and  rejoiced,  that  Jesus  had  no  need  of  me! 
 and  that  he  would  be  praised  by  others,  if  not  by  me,  to 
 all  eternity  ;  and,  provided   he  could  be  glorified,  I  cared 
 
 VOL.  I.  12 
 
90 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 not  how,  or  by  whom.  How  sweet  to  have  pride  and  self 
 subdued  ! 
 
 "  Dec.  9.  Determined  to  spend  this  day  in  fasting  and  prayer 
 for  myself  and  the  advancement  of  religion  in  this  place.  Had 
 great  and  special  assistance  last  evening,  and  now,  in  pleading 
 for  the  outpouring  of  the  Spirit  here,  and  for  help  in  the  duties 
 before  me.  After  thinking  over  my  manifold  transgressions,  my 
 sins  against  light  and  love,  and  confessing  them,  —  I  attempted 
 to  plead  my  Saviour's  death  and  righteousness,  for  pardon  and 
 reconciliation.  I  could  not  obtain  it,  but  was  for  three  hours  in 
 great  perplexity  and  distress,  and  was  more  than  once  on  the 
 point  of  giving  up  in  despair.  However,  I  was  enabled  to  con- 
 tinue reading  the  Scriptures  and  praying  till  afternoon,  when  the 
 cloud  dispersed,  and  my  Saviour  shone  out  brighter  than  ever 
 before.  How  did  my  soul  rejoice,  and  plead  for  sanctifying 
 grace  !  Was  exhausted  and  worn  out,  but  continued  praying, 
 or  trying  to  pray,  till  night. 
 
 "  Dec.  16.  Was  enabled  to  realize,  for  the  first  time  in  my 
 life,  what  Christ  suffered,  and  for  what  a  wretch  he  suffered. 
 Was  so  overwhelmed  with  the  view,  that  I  could  not,  for  some 
 time,  shed  a  tear.    O  how  hateful  did  sin  appear. 
 
 "  Dec.  17.    Was  much  assisted  in  writing  on  Christ's  passion. 
 
 "  Jan.  4,  1807.  Was  favored  with  a  spirit  of  prayer  beyond 
 all  my  former  experience.  I  was  in  great  agony,  and  wrestled 
 both  for  myself  and  others  with  great  power.  God  seemed  to 
 bow  the  heavens  and  come  down,  and  open  all  his  treasures, 
 bidding  me  take  what  I  would. 
 
 "  Jan.  6.  Was  not  favored  with  that  sweet  sense  of  pardon, 
 which  I  usually  find  on  occasions  of  fasting  ;  but  I  had  a  quiet, 
 peaceful,  resigned  frame,  and  felt  none  of  those  repining  thoughts, 
 which  the  absence  of  sensible  comforts  is  apt  to  excite. 
 
 "  Jan.  20.  Was  amazingly  assisted  in  prayer  for  myself,  pa- 
 rents, friends,  and  a  revival  of  religion. 
 
 "  Jan.  21.  Was  favored  with  the  clearest  views  of  the  glory 
 of  heaven,  as  consisting  in  holiness,  that  I  ever  had. 
 
 "  Jan.  29.  Never  felt  such  longings  after  God,  or  such  a 
 desire  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ.  My  soul  thirsted  for  more 
 full  communion  with  my  God  and  Saviour.  I  do  not  now  feel 
 satisfied,  as  I  used  to,  with  the  manifestations  of  the  divine 
 presence,  but  still  feel  hungry  and  craving. 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 91 
 
 "  Feb.  2.  Was  amazingly  given  up  to  wandering  imagina- 
 tions. If  I  attempted  to  pray,  in  a  moment  my  thoughts  were 
 in  the  ends  of  the  earth.  If  I  attempted  to  read  the  Bible,  every 
 verse,  almost,  afforded  ground  of  doubt  and  cavilling.  This 
 fully  convinced  me  that  Satan  is  able  to  make  me  doubt  even 
 the  existence  of  God. 
 
 "  Feb.  18.  Was  enabled  to  lie  at  Jesus'  feet,  and  to  wash 
 them  with  the  tears  of  contrition.  No  pleasure  I  have  ever 
 found  in  religion  superior  to  this. 
 
 "Feb.  20.  Resolved  to  spend  the  day  in  fasting,  and  had 
 considerable  assistance.  Had  clearer  views  of  the  majesty,  pu- 
 rity, and  holiness  of  God,  than  usual,  and  this  made  me  abhor 
 myself,  and  repent  in  dust  and  ashes. 
 
 "  Feb.  28.  Was  favored  with  great  enlargement  in  prayer. 
 Seemed  to  be  carried  out  of  myself  into  the  presence  of  God. 
 
 "  March  2.  Seem  to  be  declining;  am  less  grateful,  less  fer- 
 vent, than  I  was,  and  have  less  tenderness  of  spirit.  Yet  I  am 
 less  apt  to  think  much  of  myself  than  I  was,  and  hope  I  am 
 growing  in  humility.  This  seems  the  most  lovely  grace,  and 
 most  becoming  sinners. 
 
 "  March  7.  Were  it  not  for  the  promised  help  of  my  Sa- 
 viour, I  would  think  no  more  of  preachmg,  but  rather  labor  for 
 daily  bread. 
 
 "  March  12.  Never  appeared  so  exceedingly  vile  and  loath- 
 some to  myself  as  I  did  this  day.  It  seemed  as  if  I  could  not 
 endure  to  be  near  myself  No  words  could  express  any  thing 
 like  the  sense  I  had  of  my  unworthiriess.  It  seemed  as  if  I  could 
 not,  for  shame,  ask  God  to  save  me.  I  felt  like  sinking  into  the 
 dust,  in  the  idea  that  his  pure  eye  was  fixed  upon  me,  and  that 
 saints  and  angels  saw  how  vile  I  was. 
 
 "  March  15.  Sabbath.  Rose  very  early,  and  was  favored 
 with  sweet  fervency  and  communion  with  God  in  prayer. 
 Went  to  bed,  and  lay  till  morning.  Enjoyed  great  liberty  in 
 prayer  several  times  before  meeting. 
 
 "  March  17.  Was  favored  with  a  peculiar  experience  this 
 morning.  I  thought  I  knew  that  I  could  never  heal  myself  be- 
 fore ;  but  I  was  made  to  know  it  in  a  different  manner  now. 
 I  saw,  with  most  convincing  clearness,  that  neither  I,  nor  all 
 created  beings,  could  do  the  least  thing  towards  dehvering  me 
 from  my  sinful  nature.    I  saw  that  I  depended  entirely  on  the 
 
92 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 free  mercy  of  God ;  and  that  there  was  no  reason  but  his  own 
 good  pleasure,  why  he  should  ever  afford  me  that  assistance. 
 Felt,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  what  the  apostle  meant  by 
 "  groanings  which  cannot  be  uttered ;"  and  my  desires  after 
 holiness  were  so  strong,  that  I  was  in  bodily  pain,  and  my 
 soul  seemed  as  if  it  would  burst  the  bands  which  confined  it 
 to  the  body. 
 
 "  March  19.  [At  the  close  of  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer.] 
 I  find  that,  even  when  the  spirit  is  willing,  the  flesh  is 
 weak.  No  days  are  so  fatiguing  as  those  which  are  spent 
 in  fervent  and  continual  exercises  of  religion.  It  will  not  be  so 
 in  heaven. 
 
 ,  March  26.  Spent  the  day  in  fasting  and  prayer.  Was  fa- 
 vored with  near  access  to  my  heavenly  Father,  and  a  realizing 
 sense  of  his  perfections.  O  how  sweetly  was  I  enabled  to 
 praise  and  admire  his  love  and  goodness  in  his  works! 
 
 "  March  31.  Spent  this  day  fasting,  but  not  in  prayer  ;  for  I 
 could  not  put  up  a  single  petition.  Was  entirely  deserted,  and 
 was  ready  to  say.  Surely  it  is  in  vain  to  seek  after  God.  1 
 could  not  see  that  I  had  advanced  one  step  in  holiness,  and  was 
 ready  to  think  I  never  should ;  yet  could  think  of  nothing  else 
 worth  pursuing  or  living  for.  Doiibted  whether  it  were  possible 
 that  I  should  know  any  thing  of  true  religion,  and  yet  be  so  en- 
 tirely barren. 
 
 "  April  7.  In  fasting  and  prayer,  was  favored  with  much  of  a 
 spirit  of  supplication.  I  now  seem  to  be  lifted  above  those  dis- 
 couraging, desponding  doubts,  which  have  for  some  time  clogged 
 my  soul.     No  good  comes  of  doubting,  or  of  brooding  over 
 
 OUR  SINS. 
 
 "  April  14.  Spent  this  day  in  fasting  and  prayer.  Was 
 wholly  deserted,  except  that  I  saw  more  of  my  natural  deprav- 
 ity, and  the  consequent  pollution  of  all  my  duties,  than  ever  be- 
 fore. Saw  more,  too,  of  the  glory  and  greatness  of  the  work  of 
 redemption,  than  I  had  previously. 
 
 "  April  22.  Spent  this  day  in  fasting  and  prayer.  At  first 
 was  stupid ;  but  soon  God  was  pleased  to  lift  up  the  light  of 
 his  countenance  upon  me,  and  visit  me  with  his  free  Spirit.  O 
 liow  infinitely  glorious  and  lovely  did  God  in  Christ  appear ! 
 1  saw,  1  felt,  that  God  was  mine,  and  I  his.  and  was  unspeaka- 
 bly happy.    Now,  if  ever,  I  enjoyed  communion  with  God.  He 
 
EDWARD    PAYS  ON. 
 
 93 
 
 shone  sweetly  upon  me,  and  I  reflected  back  his  beams  in  fer- 
 vent, admiring,  adoring  love.  Had  a  most  ravishmg  view  of 
 the  glories  of  heaA-en,  of  the  ineffable  delight  with  which  the 
 Lord  Jesus  beholds  the  happiness  which  he  has  purchased  with 
 his  own  blood." 
 
CHAPTER  V. 
 
 His  state  of  miiirl  in  the  immediate  prospect  of  the  ministry 
 
 The  time  now  drew  near,  when  Mr.  Payson  was  to  receive 
 license,  agreeably  to  Congregational  usage,  to  preach  the  gospel. 
 His  spirituality  appears  to  have  increased  as  that  interesting 
 era  of  his  life  approached.  Most  sensibly  did  he  feel  that  he 
 "was  no  longer  his  own,  but  bought  with  a  price,"  and  "called 
 by  grace  to  serve  God  in  the  gospel  of  his  Son."  "  The  world 
 was  crucified  to  him,  and  he  to  the  world."  His  piety  was  dis- 
 tinguished by  more  frequent  acts  of  self-dedication  to  God,  not 
 by  short  ejaculations  and  a  general  surrender  merely,  but  with 
 great  deliberation,  attended  by  a  minute  survey  of  the  relations 
 of  the  creature  to  the  Creator,  and  of  the  obligations  recognised 
 and  assumed  by  such  a  consecration.  Happily,  one  specimen 
 of  the  manner  in  which  he  gave  himself  up  is  preserved ;  and, 
 though  it  describes  the  secret  dealings  of  the  soul  with  its  God, 
 it  is  hoped  that  it  will  not  be  desecrated  by  being  brought  out 
 to  the  light.  If,  however,  the  reader  never  felt  the  awe  which 
 is  created  by  a  consciousness  of  the  divine  presence — if  he 
 never  experienced  the  emotions  of  an  ancient  pilgrim,  when,  pre- 
 paring for  a  similar  transaction,  he  exclaimed,  "  How  dreadful 
 is  this  place  !" — he  is  urgently  requested  to  pause.  If  he  is 
 conscious  of  any  other  feelings  than  those  of  profound  solemni- 
 ty, let  him  leave  this  chapter  unread.  In  it  he  will  find  nothing 
 with  which  a  mind  given  to  levity,  or  vanity,  or  pride,  can  pos- 
 sibly sympathize.  If  he  ventures  to  proceed,  he  will  be  met  at 
 the  threshold,  if  not  by  "  a  drawn  sword  in  the  hand  of  the 
 Captain  of  the  Lord's  host,"  by  that  which  is  scarcely  less  ap- 
 palling to  an  earthly  mind,  and  which  will  render  almost  equally 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 95 
 
 appropriate  the  order  addressed  to  Israel's  leader  —  "Loose  thy 
 shoe  from  off  thy  foot;  for  the  place  whereon  thou  standest  is 
 holy." 
 
 "  May  1,  1807.  Having  set  apart  this  day  for  fasting  and 
 prayer,  preparatory  to  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's  supper,  I 
 rose  early,  and  sought  the  divine  presence  and  blessing,  in  which 
 I  was  favored  with  fervency  and  freedom.  My  petition  was, 
 that  I  might  be  enabled  to  see  my  own  character,  contrasted 
 with  the  purity  of  God,  and  his  holy,  just,  and  good  law ;  that 
 I  might  be  assisted  in  renewing  covenant  with  God,  and  in  giv- 
 ing myself  up  to  him,  and  that  1  might  be  favored  with  minis- 
 terial qualifications.    After  this,  I  drew  up  the  following 
 
 CONFESSION  AND  FORM  OF  COVENANT. 
 
 "  O  thou  High  and  Holy  One,  that  inhabitest  eternity,  whose 
 name  alone  is  Jehovah,  —  who  art  the  one,  great,  eternal,  ever- 
 blessed  God,  before  whom  angels  bow  and  devils  tremble,  and 
 in  whose  sight  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  are  less  than  nothing 
 and  vanity!  —  wilt  thou  graciously  condescend,  in  thy  sovereign 
 and  infinite  goodness,  to  look  down  from  thy  throne  of  glory  on 
 me,  the  most  unworthy  of  thy  creatures,  a  poor,  weak,  sinful, 
 vile,  and  polluted  wretch,  to  behold  me  with"  mercy  and  compas- 
 sion, and  permit  me,  lying  prostrate  in  the  dust  before  thee,  to 
 address  thee  as  my  God,  my  Father,  my  Creator,  my  Benefac- 
 tor, my  Friend  and  Redeemer  ! 
 
 "  O  Lord,  I  would  come  with  a  heart  broken  and  contrite  for 
 sin,  acknowledging  myself  unworthy  of  the  least  of  all  thy 
 mercies,  and  deserving  nothing  at  thine  hand  but  everlasting 
 banishment  from  thee  and  happiness.  Encouraged  by  thine 
 own  gracious  promises,  I  would  come,  and  with  humble  confi- 
 dence, take  hold  on  the  hope  set  before  me,  even  thine  everlast- 
 ing covenant,  which  is  ordered  in  all  things  and  sure.  But,  O 
 God,  what  am  I,  that  1  should  be  called  thy  son,  that  I  should 
 call  thee  my  Father,  or  that  thou  shouldst  enter  into  covenant 
 with  me?  I  blush,  and  am  ashamed  even  to  lift  up  my  face 
 unto  thee,  O  my  Father  ;  for  I  have  sinned  against  thee,  and 
 am  exceeding  vile  ;  vile  beyond  what  language  can  describe  or 
 thought  conceive.  My  iniquities  are  gone  over  my  head  ;  they 
 are  increased  even  to  the  heavens ;  they  are  infinite  in  number, 
 
96 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 in  degree  and  aggravation,  and  can  be  equalled  only  by  thy 
 mercies,  which  have  been  new  every  moment.  Thoii,  O  God, 
 hast  given  me  life,  and  dost  still  preserve  me  in  existence.  Thou 
 hast  given  me  faculties  which  render  me  capable  of  knowing, 
 serving,  loving,  worshipping  and  enjoying  thee.  Thou  hast 
 placed  me  in  this  Christian  land,  and  given  me  the  knowledge 
 of  thee,  myself,  and  my  duty,  while  thousands  of  my  fellow 
 creatures  are  left  in  darkness.  Thou  hast  placed  me  in  that  sit- 
 uation in  life  which  is  most  favorable  to  virtue,  contentment, 
 and  happiness,  and  hast  given  me  parents  tender  and  affection- 
 ate, who  early  devoted  me  to  thee,  and  taught  me  to  lisp  thy 
 name,  and  to  know  thy  precepts.  Through  their  means  thoii 
 hast  given  me  opportunities  of  improving  those  faculties  I  have 
 received  from  thee,  and  thus  rendering  myself  more  fit  to  serve 
 thee.  But  above  all,  O  my  God,  thou  hast  given  me  an  interest 
 in  thy  Son,  and  in  all  the  blessings  he  has  purchased.  Thou 
 hast  given  me  the  Spirit  of  adoption,  whereby  I  am  enabled  to 
 cry,  Abba,  Father.  Thou  hast  given  me  thy  precious  grace  in 
 this  world  as  an  earnest  of  glory  in  the  next.  Thou  hast  also 
 loaded  me  with  daily  and  hourly  mercies,  more  than  I  can  num- 
 ber. Thou  hast  kept  me  with  more  than  paternal  care.  Thou 
 hast  preserved  me  in  sickness,  protected  me  from  dangers,  shield- 
 ed me  while  awake,  watched  over  me  in  sleep,  supported  me 
 in  trials,  strengthened  me  in  weakness,  succored  me  in  tempta- 
 tions, comforted  me  in  afflictions,  and  defended  me  against 
 mighty  and  numberless  enemies.  Thou  hast  overwhelmed  me 
 with  thy  mercies  ;  my  cup  runneth  over.  Thy  goodness  and 
 thy  mercy  have  followed  me  all  the  days  of  my  life. 
 
 "  Yet  against  all  this  goodness  I  have  rebelled,  have  reward- 
 ed thee  evil  for  good  ;  thy  mercies  have  only  aggravated  my 
 guilt.  O,  my  God,  what  have  I  done  !  What  madness,  what 
 obstinacy,  what  ingratitude  has  possessed  me  !  My  sins  have 
 run  parallel  with  thy  mercies.  I  have  struck  and  wounded  the 
 hand  that  made  me,  fed  me,  preserved  me.  I  have  wasted  in 
 sin  and  folly  the  life  thou  gavest  me.  I  have  perverted  those 
 faculties  I  received  from  thy  goodness  in  dishonoring  thee,  and 
 in  disobeying  thy  commands.  I  was  shapen  in  sin,  and  brought 
 forth  in  iniquity.  My  understanding  is  darkened  and  alienated 
 from  the  truth ;  my  will  is  stubborn  and  perverse ;  my  affec- 
 tions are  corrupted  and  depraved ;  and  every  imagination  of  the 
 
EDWARD    PAY SON. 
 
 97 
 
 l?ioughts  of  my  heart  has  been  evil,  only  and  continually  evil. 
 My  carnal  mind  has  been  enmity  against  thee,  and  has  not  been 
 in  subjection  to  thy  righteous  and  holy  law.  From  this  corrupt 
 and  bitter  fountain  have  proceeded  innumerable  bitter,  polluting 
 streams.  Though  I  was  early  taught  thy  will,  I  neglected  to 
 perform  it.  I  have  broken  all  thy  commands,  times  without 
 number.  My  words,  thoughts,  and  actions,  have  been  sinful. 
 I  have  gone  astray  from  my  youth  up. 
 
 "And  even  after  thou  didst  take  pity  upon  me,  when  I  was 
 cast  out,  polluted,  to  perish  in  my  blood — after  thou  didst  re- 
 ceive me,  a  poor,  wretched  prodigal,  and  didst  cause  tliy 
 wondrous  goodness  and  mercy  to  pass  before  me,  I  have  still 
 continued  to  weary  thee  with  my  sins,  and  cause  thee  to  serve 
 with  mine  iniquities.  I  have  broken  that  solemn  covenant  by 
 which  I  bound  myself  to  be  thine.  1  have  indulged  an  evil 
 heart  of  unbelief,  in  departing  from  the  living  God,  and  have 
 in  all  things  dealt  very  treacherously.  How  often  have  I  mocked 
 thee  with  solemn  words  on  a  thoughtless  tongue  !  How  have 
 I  neglected  thy  word,  profaned  thine  ordinances,  broken  thy 
 law,  and  resisted  thy  grace  !  How  little  of  a  filial  temper  have 
 I  felt  to  thee,  my  Father !  How  little  gratitude  to  thee, 
 blessed  Saviour  !  How  often  have  I  grieved  thee,  O  Holy 
 Spirit,  by  whom  I  am  sealed  to  the  day  of  redemption  !  When 
 thou  liftest  upon  me  the  light  of  thy  countenance,  I  grow  proud, 
 carnal,  and  secure;  and  when  thou  leavest  me  in  darkness, 
 when  my  own  foolishness  perverteth  my  way,  then  my  proud 
 heart  fretteth  against  thee,  the  Lord.  All  my  duties  are  pollu- 
 ted with  innumerable  sins,  and  are  as  a  leprous  garment  before 
 thee.  And,  after  all  thou  hast  done  for  me,  I  am  still  encom- 
 passed about  with  innumerable  evils.  Pride,  unbelief,  selfish- 
 ness, lust,  anger,  hatred,  malice,  revenge,  bitterness,  slothfulness, 
 vanity,  love  of  the  world,  ignorance,  formality,  hypocrisy,  and 
 with  all  these,  self-conceit,  are  still  the  inhabitants,  if  not  the 
 lords,  of  my  heart.  And,  as  thou,  O  Lord,  knowest,  these  are 
 not  the  ten  thousandth  part  of  my  sins  and  iniquities  ;  so  that  I 
 am  the  chief  of  sinners,  and  least  of  all  saints.     *     *    *  * 
 
 "  O  wretched  man  that  I  am  !  Who  shall  deliver  me  from 
 this  body  of  death?  Vain,  O  Lord,  thou  knowest,  are  my 
 endeavors,  and  vain  is  the  help  of  man.  I  have  ruined  myself, 
 and  in  thee  alone,  and  in  thy  mercy,  is  my  hope. 
 
 VOL.  I.  13 
 
98 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "  To  this  mercy,  against  which  I  have  so  often  sinned,  would 
 I  flee  for  refuge,  and,  laying  my  hand  on  my  mouth,  and  my 
 mouth  in  the  dust,  cry.  Unclean  !  unclean  !  True,  Lord,  I 
 have  sinned ;  but  with  thee  there  is  mercy,  with  thee  there  is 
 plenteous  redemption.  Thou,  thou,  art  he,  who  blottest  out 
 our  iniquities  for  thine  own  sake,  and  wilt  not  remejnber  our 
 sins  against  us.  The  blood  of  Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin, 
 and  to  this  would  I  flee  for  refuge.    In  him  do  1  put  my  trust ; 
 
 0  let  me  not  be  ashamed.  Let  me  plead  before  thee  the  merits 
 of  thy  Son,  and  put  thee  in  mind  of  thy  gracious  promises,  that 
 
 1  may  be  justified.  In  his  name,  and  as  an  unworthy  member 
 of  his  mystical  body,  would  I  come,  and  renew  before  thee  that 
 covenant  which  I  have  broken,  and  bind  myself  to  be  thine  for- 
 ever. And  do  thou,  for  his  sake,  O  God,  assist  me ;  for  in  thee 
 is  my  strength. 
 
 "  Relying  on  this  strength  for  support,  and  confessing  myself 
 guilty  of  all  these  and  innumerable  other  offences,  and  that  1 
 deserve,  in  justice,  nothing  but  the  lowest  hell,  and  renouncing 
 the  destructive  ways  of  sin, — I  do  with  my  whole  heart  and 
 soul,  in  a  most  serious,  solemn,  and  deliberate  manner,  choose 
 and  take  the  Lord  Jehovah  to  be  my  God  and  Father,  cheer- 
 fully and  joyfully  renewing  all  my  past  engagements ;  and,  in 
 humble  dependence  on  his  grace,  I  engage  to  fear  him,  and 
 cleave  to  him  in  love.  And  I  do,  most  freely,  give  up  myself, 
 ray  interests,  for  time  and  for  eternity,  my  soul  and  body,  my 
 friends  and  possessions,  and  all  that  I  have,  to  his  wise,  just, 
 and  sovereign  disposal.  Especially  do  I  devote  myself  to  him 
 in  the  service  of  the  ministry,  beseeching  him  to  place  me  in 
 that  situation  in  which  I  shall  most  glorify  him.  And  wilt  thou, 
 O  most  gracious  and  condescending  God,  accept  this  offering  of 
 thy  creature,  who  can  give  thee  nothing  but  what  he  has  first 
 received. 
 
 "  With  equal  joy  and  readiness,  and  in  the  same  serious  and 
 solemn  manner,  do  I  choose  and  embrace  the  Lord  Jesus 
 Christ  to  be  my  only  Saviour.  I  take  him  in  all  his  oflices — as 
 my  Priest,  to  make  atonement  for  all  my  offences — as  my 
 Prophet,  to  guide,  teach,  enlighten  and  instruct  me — as  my 
 King,  to  rule  in  and  reign  over  me.  I  take  him  as  the  great 
 Head  of  influences,  from  whom  alone  I  can  receive  all  needed 
 supplies  of  grace  and  assistance. 
 
EDWARD    PA YSON. 
 
 99 
 
 "  I  do  also  take  the  Holy  Spirit  of  all  grace  and  consolation 
 to  be  my  Sanctifier,  and  promise  not  to  grieve  him,  or  to  slight 
 his  Avarnings. 
 
 "  And,  O  my  God,  what  shall  I  more  say  7  what  can  I  ask, 
 since  I  am  thine,  and  thou  art  mine  ;  mine,  for  lime ;  mine, 
 for  eternity?  O  my  God,  I  want  nothing  but  to  be  wholly 
 thine.  I  would  plead  thy  promise  for  a  new  heart  and  a  right 
 spirit.  O  Avrite  this  covenant  on  my  heart,  and  put  thy  fear 
 there,  that  I  may  not  depart  from  thee.  May  I  be  made  an 
 able,  faithful,  and  successful  minister  of  the  New  Testament. 
 May  the  life  and  concerns,  which  I  have  now  devoted  lo  thee, 
 be  employed  in  thy  service;  and  may  I,  at  length,  be  brought 
 to  tlie  full  enjoyment  of  tliec  in  glory,  through  infinite  riches  of 
 redeeming  love. 
 
 "As  a  testimony  of  my  sincere  and  hearty  consent  to  this 
 covenant,  of  my  hope  and  desire  to  receive  the  blessings  of  it, 
 and  as  a  swift  witness  against  me  if  I  depart  from  it ;  I  do  now, 
 before  God  and  the  holy  angels,  subscribe  with  my  hand  unto 
 the  Lord.  Edward  Payson. 
 
 "  And  may  this  covenant  be  ratified  in  heaven.  And  do  thou 
 remember,  O  my  soul,  that  the  vows  of  God  are  upon  thee. 
 
 "  Having  drawn  up  the  above  covenant,  I  spread  it  before 
 rhe  Lord ;  and  after  confession  of  sins,  and  seeking  pardon 
 through  the  blood  of  Christ,  I  did  solemnly  accept  it  before 
 him,  as  my  free  act  and  deed;  and  embraced  Christ  in  it,  as 
 the  only  ground  of  my  hope.  I  then  pleaded  for  all  covenant- 
 ed blessings,  and  was  favored  with  great  fervency  and  enlarge- 
 ment in  prayer.  An  indisposition,  which  attended  me  through 
 the  day,  rendered  it  less  profitable  than  usual ;  yet  I  have 
 abundant  reason  to  bless  God  for  the  measure  of  assistance  I 
 received.  I  felt  the  most  longing,  intense,  and  insatiable  desires 
 after  holiness,  and  to  be  employed  in  promoting  the  divine 
 glory.  The  world,  with  its  applause,  seemed  nothing  in  com- 
 parison Avith  the  approbation  of  God.  Existence  seemed  Avorth 
 possessing  only  as  it  could  be  employed  in  praising  him." 
 
 Before  the  reader  sits  in  judgment  on  the  transaction  noAV 
 recorded,  and  especially  on  the  manner  in  Avhich  it  Avas  con- 
 ducted ;  before  he  censures  the  voavs,  by  Avhich  the  covenanter 
 
100 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 bound  his  soul,  as  too  strong,  the  surrender  as  too  complete  and 
 exclusive,  or  the  terms  in  Avhich  it  is  done  as  extravagant, — let 
 him  inquire  of  his  own  heart,  Avhether  he  has  duly  considered 
 the  claims  of  the  great  Jehovah,  and  treated  these  claims  as  a 
 real  servant  of  God,  a  true  disciple  of  Christ.  Even  under  his 
 "  easy  yoke,"  the  terms  of  the  relation  are.  "  Except  ye  forsake 
 all,  ye  cannot  be  my  disciples."  And  if  "no  man  can  serve 
 two  masters,"  avc  have  no  alternative,  but  to  give  up  ourselves 
 to  God  without  reserve,  or  be  disowned  by  him.  However 
 solemn  the  act,  that  can  be  neither  unreasonable  nor  improper, 
 which  our  Father  in  heaven  requires.  When  we  enter  upon  an 
 enumeration  of  all  that  is  comprised  in  dedicating  one's  self  to 
 God,  we  may  well  be  filled  with  awe,  and  tremblingly  alive  to 
 the  danger  of  failing  to  perform  our  vows  ;  but  to  withhold  the 
 offering,  savors  more  of  unbelief,  of  a  selfish  and  rebellious 
 heart,  than  of  a  wise  caution,  or  a  filial  temper. 
 
 There  is  a  class  of  persons,  to  whom  the  confessions  in  the 
 above  instrument  will  appear  revolting,  and  by  Avhom  they  will 
 be  stigmatized  as  religious  affectation.  He  speaks  of  his  sins 
 as  "  infinite  in  number,  degree  and  aggravation."  The  Chris- 
 tian, Avhose  "  sins  have  been  set  in  order  before  him,"  sees  no 
 hyperbole  in  such  language ;  and  if  it  should  meet  the  eyes  of 
 others,  they  are  referred  for  an  explanation,  so  far  as  it  can  be 
 appreciated  without  Christian  experience,  to  the  sermon  num- 
 bered seven  of  his  published  discourses.  Even  "  the  natural 
 man  "  may  there  "  discern  "  enough  to  acquit  the  author  of  in- 
 consistency ;  and  it  is  no  more  than  an  act  of  common  justice 
 tp  allow  him  to  be  his  own  expositor. 
 
 In  this  and  other  places,  he  descends  to  specifications  of  sins 
 in  terms  which  rriay  be  thought  applicable  to  none  but  a  mon- 
 ster of  wickedness;  and  yet  they  are  the  judgment  passed  on 
 himself  by  a  man  always  and  universally  respected  for  the 
 correctness  and  purity  of  his  morals.  His  "  pride"  never  look- 
 ed with  disdain  upon  the  meanest  fellow-creature  ;  his  "  malice" 
 and  "revenge"  never  inflicted  actual  injury;  and  of  any  out- 
 breakings  of  the  baser  and  more  degi-ading  passions,  he  stands 
 unindicted  by  all  except  himself  Nor  were  these  humiliating 
 confessions,  this  extraordinary  self-abasement,  made  to  attract 
 notice,  and  give  himself  importance  in  the  eyes  of  others  —  one 
 of  the  very  worst  and  most  odious  forms  in  Avhich  pride  oper- 
 
F,  DWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 101 
 
 ates — for  to  them  no  mortal  was  ever  privy.  They  were  not 
 known  to  a  fellow-creature,  till  since  he  dropped  the  clods  of 
 mortality.  They  describe  what  he  appeared  to  himself  to  be 
 in  the  immediate  presence  of  the  perfectly  holy  and  heart 
 searching  God.  Still,  many  will  repeat  the  question  —  If  he 
 alludes  to  no  crimes,  with  which  every  man  might  not  with 
 equal  propriety  charge  himself,  whence  the  justice  or  truth  of 
 the  charges  ?  Here  again  he  shall  be  his  own  interpreter.  Let 
 those  Avho  are  oppressed  with  this  difficulty  carefully  read  his 
 sermon,  entitled,  "  Sins  estimated  by  the  light  of  Heaven."  and 
 they  will  find  a  full  and  satisfactory  solution.  This,  and  the 
 sermon  just  alluded  to,  will  furnish  a  key  to  the  true  import  of 
 much  of  the  language  which  he  employs,  in  describing  the 
 darker  and  more  distressing  parts  of  his  experience. 
 
 The  effects  of  his  severe  regimen  and  night  vigils  on  his 
 health  had  already  begun  to  appear,  and  were  somewhat  aggra- 
 vated by  a  bodily  injury  which  he  received  about  this  time. 
 The  circumstances  are  said  to  have  been  these  :  He  had  accom- 
 panied his  father  and  another  clergyman  to  an  ordination.  On 
 their  return,  as  he  was  feasting  his  mind  with  such  meditations 
 as  the  scenery  and  the  occasion  suggested,  they  out-rode  him. 
 His  horse,  being  left  principally  to  his  own  guidance,  by  sud- 
 denly leaping  a  brook,  brought  his  rider  to  the  ground,  whose 
 right  shoulder  was  dislocated  by  the  shock.  A  partial  faintness 
 succeeded,  from  which  he  was  recovered  by  bathing  his  temples 
 with  water  from  the  stream.  Attempting,  in  this  disabled  con- 
 dition, to  regain  the  saddle,  by  leaping  from  a  neighboring  fence, 
 he  was  precipitated  over  the  horse  to  the  ground,  and  the  bone 
 was  restored  to  its  place  by  the  fall.  In  after  life,  it  was  often 
 displaced,  and  sometimes  in  circumstances  not  a  little  embar- 
 rassing and  distressing ;  and  for  many  months  before  his  death, 
 and  even  before  he  ceased  to  appear  in  the  pulpit,  that  arm 
 hung  useless  by  his  side.  From  this  time,  the  state  of  his 
 health  is  the  subject  of  frequent  allusion,  as  may  be  seen  from 
 his  journal,  parts  of  which,  for  several  successive  days,  are 
 subjoined,  bringing  down  his  history  to  the  date  of  his  license 
 to  preach  the  gospel :  — 
 
 "  May  2.  Was  exceedingly  weak  through  the  day,  both  in 
 body  and  mind,  and  Avas  enabled  to  do  little  or  nothing.  Could 
 only  wish  and  sigh. 
 
102 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "  May  3.  Sacrament.  Had  considerable  flow  of  affections, 
 but  seemed  to  want  clearness  and  spirituality.  In  the  after- 
 noon, was  more  dead  and  trifling.  So  far  as  I  can  judge  from, 
 my  feelings,  have  got  little  good  by  this  opportunity.  Felt 
 deeply  oppressed  with  guilt  after  meeting,  but  could  not  mourn 
 over  my  sin,  as  I  would  fain  have  done,  nor  could  I  obtain  any 
 sense  of  divine  love.  But  after  a  short  lime,  my  compassionate 
 Saviour  was  pleased  to  melt  my  soul  with  a  look  of  love,  and  I 
 felt  sweetly  humbled  and  contrite  for  sin.  Although  I  had  care- 
 lessly let  down  my  watch,  yet  in  the  evening  he  was  pleased  to 
 return,  and  give  me  the  sweetest  humbling  season  I  ever  en- 
 joyed. I  never  felt  so  vile,  so  insignificant,  so  like  nothing,  so 
 emptied  of  self  And  when  I  was  thus  empty,  he  was  pleased 
 to  fill  me  with  himself;  so  that  I  was  burnt  up*  with  most 
 intense  love,  and  pantings  after  holiness.  Never  before  had  I 
 such  faith  and  fervency  in  prayer.  I  was  as  happy  as  nature 
 could  sustain,  and  could  only  say — Blessed  Jesus  !  this  is  thy 
 Avork.  See  my  happiness.  It  proceeds  from  thee  !  This  is  the 
 fruit  of  thy  travail  of  soul.  Renewed  my  covenant,  and  gave 
 up  my  whole  soul,  with  all  its  powers,  to  God  as  my  Father, 
 Christ  as  my  Saviour,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  as  my  Sanctifier. 
 Had  another  sweet  season  in  prayer ;  but  was  assaulted  by 
 spiritual  pride.    I  see  frowns  are  necessary  for  me. 
 
 "  May  4.  Was  less  favored  this  morning  than  last  evening; 
 but  had  some  assistance.  Was  aided  in  writing,  but  greatly  op- 
 pressed with  pride  and  vanity,  which  made  their  attacks  upon 
 me  in  inexpressible  shapes,  while  I  could  do  nothing. 
 
 "  May  5.  Spent  this  day  in  the  woods,  in  fasting  and  prayer, 
 with  a  view  to  obtain  mortification  of  my  abominable  pride  and 
 selfishness.  Was  favored  with  much  fervency  and  enlargement 
 the  former  part  of  the  day,  but  Avas  afterward  much  deserted  ; 
 seemed  to  make  no  advances  in  holiness  ;  to  be  of  no  advantage 
 to  the  world,  and  unfit  to  live. 
 
 *  This  expression  may  at  firfet  glance  strike  the  reader  as  extravagant ;  and 
 yet,  by  consulting  John  ii.  17,  he  will  find  an  almost  exact  parallel — Tlie  zeal 
 of  thine  house  hath  eaten  me  up.  So  inwrought  into  Mr.  Payson's  mental 
 habits  were  the  Scriptures  of  truth,  that  he  ihought,  breathed,  and  sj)oke,  in 
 their  manner.  Those,  however,  will,  or  ought  to  be,  the  last  to  complain, 
 who  can  resolve  all  the  characteristic  expressions  and  peculiai-  doctrines  of 
 the  Bible  into  "  strong  eastern  figures." 
 
EDWAKD    PA YSON. 
 
 103 
 
 May  6.  Had  some  freedom  in  prayer.  Felt  very  feeble, 
 and  unfit  for  study  ;  but,  praying  that  Christ's  strength  might 
 be  made  perfect  in  my  weakness,  I  was  helped  to  write  more 
 than  usual. 
 
 "  May  7.  Out  of  order  both  in  body  and  mind.  Did  little  in 
 my  study,  and  had  little  freedom  in  prayer. 
 
 "May  8.  Had  some  life  and  fervency  this  morning;  but 
 was  exercised  with  wandering  thoughts.    Could  do  little  all  day. 
 
 "  May  9.  Was  much  perplexed  with  some  business  with 
 *  *  *  *,  so  that  I  could  neither  read  nor  pray,  any  more 
 than  I  could  remove  a  mountain.  This  was  made  useful  tome. 
 I  saw  by  it  the  weakness  of  my  graces,  and  learned  to  judge 
 more  favorably  of  those  Christians  who  are  exposed  to  the 
 temptations  of  the  world.  It  showed  me  also  my  need  of  divine 
 help  more  clearly  than  ever.  Were  I  exposed  to  the  same 
 temptations,  I  should  lose  all  sense  of  divine  things  without 
 greater  supports  than  I  ever  had. 
 
 "  May  10.  Was  very  unwell,  and  could  neither  eat,  read,  nor 
 pray.    Was  excessively  melancholy. 
 
 "  May  11.  Was  still  more  oppressed  with  melancholy,  and  felt 
 even  more  miserable.  ■*  *  *  ^  *  *  *  Was  ashamed 
 of  my  selfishness  and  ingratitude  in  despising  the  blessings  God 
 had  given  me.  Remained  very  wretched,  and  unable  to  do  any 
 thing.    In  the  evening,  had  some  relief. 
 
 "  May  12.  Was,  if  possible,  still  more  gloomy  and  depressed 
 than  yesterday.  Seemed  unfit  to  preach,  and  even  to  do  any 
 thing.  Could  only  wander  about  from  place  to  place,  seek- 
 ing rest,  and  finding  none.  In  the  evening,  a  person  arrived 
 from  Marlborough,  inviting  me  to  come  and  preach  four 
 Sabbaths.  After  putting  up  a  short  but  sincere  petition,  that 
 I  might  not  be  left  to  my  own  guidance,  and  asking  the  advice 
 of  my  father,  I  promised  to  go.  Retired,  and  cast  myself  upon 
 the  Lord  for  support,  with  a  deep  sense  of  my  own  utter 
 insufficiency. 
 
 "  May  13.  Having  set  apart  this  day  for  fasting  and  prayer, 
 with  reference  to  entering  on  the  work  of  the  ministry.  I  sought 
 the  divine  presence  and  blessing,  in  which  I  was  much  assisted. 
 Renewed  covenant  with  God,  and  gave  myself  up  to  him  for 
 the  work  of  the  ministry.  Was  helped  to  plead  with  far  more 
 earnestness  than  ever  before,  and,  indeed,  with  as  much  as  my 
 
104 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 nature  could  support,  or  was  capable  of,  and  this  repeatedly 
 during  the  day. 
 
 "  May  li.  Was  very  unwell,  and  apprehensive  of  a  nervous 
 fever.  Could  not  read  the  most  amusing  books  without  weari- 
 ness and  distraction  ;  and  my  body  was  so  weak,  that  I  could 
 exercise  but  very  little.  Yet,  by  divine  goodness,  was  preserved 
 in  a  quiet,  submissive  frame. 
 
 "  May  15.  Was  better,  and  had  some  sweetness  in  secret  de- 
 votion. Went  to  see  an  old  man  who  has  been  converted  in  his 
 old  age.  Found  him  full  of  affection,  and  possessing  remarka- 
 bly clear  views  of  God  and  divine  thmgs,  though  in  other 
 respects  weak  and  illiterate.  Was  somewh;it  refreshed  with  his 
 conversation.— P.  M.  Forced  to  make  a  visit,  but  helped  to 
 introduce  religious  conversation. 
 
 "May  16.  Felt  very  lifeless  in  the  morning;  but  in  secret 
 prayer,  it  pleased  God  to  enliven  me.  In  the  evening,  was  favored 
 with  equal,  or  greater  degrees  of  fervency.  My  soul  was  sud- 
 denly humbled  and  broken  for  sin.  I  seemed  to  be  much  the 
 least  of  all  saints  ;  and  my  very  soul  panted  for  God  and  holi- 
 ness, as  the  hunted  hart  for  the  water-brook.  Blessed  be  God 
 for  this  day. 
 
 "May  17.  Sabbath,  A.  M.  Yery  dull  and  lifeless;  but  in 
 secret  prayer,  the  cloud  was  removed,  and  I  found  unspeakable 
 delight  in  drawing  near  to  God,  and  casting  myself  upon  him. 
 Christ  appeared  inconceivably  precious,  and  I  longed,  with  most 
 intense  desire,  to  devote  myself  to  him,  and  to  be  like  him.  I 
 could  not  but  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory, 
 to  think  that  God  in  Christ  was,  and  would  be,  infinitely  and 
 unchangeably  glorious  and  happy.  In  Christ  I  beheld  such 
 fulness  and  sufRciency,  that  all  my  late  tormenting  fears 
 respecting  being  qualified  for  the  ministry,  and  assisted  in  it, 
 vanished.  In  the  evening,  v/as  overwhelmed  with  a  view  of 
 my  remaining  corruptions,  and  especially  of  my  pride;  so  that 
 I  was  in  a  perfect  agony,  and  could  scarcely  support  it.  I  was 
 just  ready  to  despair,  and  give  up  all  future  striving  as  vain ; 
 but  I  fled  to  Christ,  and  poured  out  all  my  sorrows  into  his 
 bosom,  and  he  graciously  pitied  me,  and  strengthened  me  with 
 might  in  my  soul.  I  found  unspeakab'e  relief  in  telling  him  all 
 my  sorrows  and  difficulties.  0,  he  is  wonderfully,  inconceiva- 
 bly gracious  ! 
 
EDWAKD  PAYSON. 
 
 105 
 
 "  May  is.  Had  very  little  freedom  or  fervency.  Was  per- 
 plexed with  the  scene  before  me,  and  could  effect  but  little. 
 
 "May  19.  Went  with  my  father  to  the  Association,  for  the 
 purpose  of  receiving  their  approbation  to  preach  the  gospel. 
 Was  exceedingly  fatigued. 
 
 "  May  20.  Was  examined  and  approbated.  Was  so  weak 
 that  I  could  scarcely  stand  ;  but  was  helped  in  some  measure." 
 
 VOL.  I.  14 
 
CHAPTEE  VI. 
 
 His  first  efforts  as  a  preacher.    His  religious  character  further  developed. 
 
 Having  been  regularly  introduced  and  recommended  to  the 
 churches  as  a  preacher,  Mr.  Payson  proceeded,  the  next  day, 
 to  Marlborough,  to  fulfil  his  engagement  with  th-e  people  of 
 that  place.  Change  of  situation,  however,  did  not  interrupt 
 his  communion  with  God.  On  the  way,  his  mind  was  engrossed 
 with  divine  contemplations,  and  with  the  duties  and  responsi- 
 bilities of  that  new  relation  in  which  he  now  stood  to  the  church 
 and  the  world.  During  the  time  that  intervened  between  this 
 and  the  Sabbath,  he  was  not  without  misgivings ;  as  he  com- 
 plains of  being  "almost  discouraged  and  overwhelmed,  in  view 
 of  his  unfitness  for  the  ministry ;"  and  once,  of  even  "  wishing 
 himself  any  thing  rather  than  a  minister."  He  "  could  hardly 
 conceive  it  possible,  that  one  so  inconceivably  vile  should  be 
 a  child  of  God ;  but  was  nevertheless  helped  to  cast  his  bur- 
 den on  the  Almighty,  and  to  agonize  in  prayer  to  be  delivered 
 from  this  body  of  death."  The  Saturday  next  preceding  his 
 first  appearance  in  the  pulpit,  he  had  "  resolved  to  spend  in 
 fasting  and  prayer ;"  but  when  the  day  arrived,  his  "health 
 would  not  permit."  The  day  on  which  a  man  first  stands  forth  as 
 the  ambassador  of  God  to  his  fellow  men,  is  an  important  era  in 
 his  life  ;  but  it  had  been  anticipated  with  so  much  concern  by 
 Mr.  Payson,  that  it  seems  to  have  been  distinguished  by  no  ex- 
 traordinary strength  of  feelings.  His  own  account  of  them  is 
 thus  expressed :  — 
 
 "  May  24.  Sabbath.  Was  favored  with  considerable  ferven- 
 cy, life,  and  sense  of  dependence,  this  morning.    Endeavored  to 
 
MEMOIR     OF    EDWARD    PAYSON.  107 
 
 cast  myself  wholly  on  the  Lord  for  support.  Felt  thankful  it 
 was  rainy.  There  were  very  few  people  at  meeting;  and  I  just 
 got  through  without  stopping.  Spoke  too  fast  and  too  low. 
 Was  a  good  deal  depressed  after  meeting.  In  the  afternoon,  did 
 a  little  better,  but  still  bad  enough.  Was  very  much  fatigued, 
 and  almost  in  a  fever;  but  enjoyed  some  comfort  after  meet- 
 ing." 
 
 His  public  engagements,  important  as  he  felt  them  to  be,  did 
 not  divert  his  attention  from  his  own  heart.  On  the  contrary, 
 personal  religion  continued  to  be  a  primary  concern.  Of  this, 
 as  well  as  of  the  varied  nature  of  his  spiritual  exercises,  there 
 is  an  accumulation  of  evidence  :  — 
 
 "  May  28.  Enjoyed  a  very  unusual  degree  of  sweetness  and 
 fervor  this  morning.  O,  how  precious  did  Christ  appear  to  my 
 soul !  How  I  longed  to  be  a  pure  flame  of  fire  in  his  service, 
 to  be  all  zeal,  and  love,  and  fervor  !  With  what  gratitude  did 
 I  look  to  him,  saying.  Blessed  Saviour,  behold  how  happy  I  am! 
 and  to  thee  all  my  happiness  is  owing.  But  for  thee,  I  should 
 now  have  been  lifting  up  my  eyes,  being  in  torments.  O,  what 
 shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord  for  all  his  benefits  !  In  the  even- 
 ing, in  secret  prayer,  my  soul  was  filled  with  unutterable  long- 
 ings and  insatiable  thirstings  after  God  in  Christ.  I  earnestly 
 desired  that  all  mankind  might  be  as  happy  as  I  was;  that  they 
 should  all  see  what  a  glorious,  amiable  being  God  is,  that  they 
 might  love  and  praise  him.  Retired  to  rest  with  a  clear,  sweet, 
 realizing  apprehension  of  my  Saviour's  presence,  and  dropped 
 to  sleep  in  this  frame. 
 
 "  May  29.  Enjoyed  much  of  the  same  spiritual  sweetness 
 which  I  felt  last  evening ;  but  was  much  exercised  on  account 
 of  pride,  or  rather,  love  of  applause,  which  was  excited  by 
 some  approbation  which,  I  lately  heard,  was  bestowed  on  my 
 preaching.  Strove  with  all  my  might  to  be  delivered  from  this 
 hateful  temper,  and  cried  for  some  time  to  my  Supporter  and 
 Strength  ever  to  grant  me  his  grace  to  help.  Recalled  to  mind 
 that  I  had  nothing  which  I  had  not  received  ;  that  I  had  most 
 wickedly  and  shamefully  wasted,  and  neglected  to  improve  my 
 talents  ;  that  applause  was  commonly  ill  bestowed ;  and  that 
 the  praise  of  men  was  of  no  worth  compared  with  the  approba- 
 
108 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 tion  of  God.  By  the  divine  blessing  on  these  and  other  similar 
 considerations,  I  was  helped  to  overcome  it.  In  the  evening, 
 was  much  assisted  in  prayer.  Had  a  greater  spirit  of  wrestling 
 for  the  conversion  of  sinners  than  I  ever  had  before." 
 
 He  is  often  "  discouraged  by  the  little  which  he  accomplishes 
 and  the  selfish  motives  with  which  that  little  is  defiled." 
 He  is  assailed  by  "  strong  temptations,  which  drive  him  to  his 
 knees  for  assistance;"  and  by  "frequent  recurrence  of  the 
 same  temptation,"  which  costs  him  long  and  severe  "  struggles, 
 before  he  is  favored  with  complete  victory."  This  is  followed 
 by  "  increased  confidence  in  God,  as  able  to  supply  all  his 
 need,  and  at  the  same  time,  with  a  more  humbling  sense  of  his 
 unfitness  for  the  ministry."  And  even  when  he  is  in  a  "  lively 
 frame"  during  several  successive  days,  he  is  still  "  astonished 
 at  his  slow  progress  in  religion."  Again,  '=  pride  and  unbelief 
 begin  to  work,  and  render  him  miserable,"  and  for  defence 
 against  them  he  resorts  "  to  prayer,  pleading  various  arguments 
 for  the  space  of  an  hour,  before  he  is  able  to  repress  pride  and 
 repining  thoughts."  Nor  is  this  the  extremity  of  his  conflict : 
 he  has  such  "  a  dreadful  view  of  his  heart,  that  he  could 
 scarcely  support  the  sight  of  himself;"  while  this,  "  instead  of 
 humbling,  only  distressed  him,  so  that  he  is  at  last  obliged  to 
 desist,  without,  as  he  can  perceive,  any  answer  at  all."  The 
 next  day,  he  can  cry,  "Abba,  Father  !"  with  all  the  confidence 
 of  filial  love  :  — 
 
 "  June  6.  Had  many  sweet  seasons  of  prayer  during  the 
 day,  and  was  assisted  in  pleading  for  the  presence  of  the  Divine 
 Spirit  to-morrow. 
 
 "June  8.  Had  great  earnestness  in  secret  prayer.  Longed 
 to  be  wholly  devoted  to  God.  Thought  if  I  could,  from  this 
 time,  do  every  thing  for  his  glory,  I  would  willingly  resign  every 
 worldly  comfort,  and  be  the  most  despised  object  on  the  face  of 
 the  earth.  Went  to  a  funeral,  and  was  assisted  in  speaking  to 
 the  mourners,  and  in  prayer. 
 
 "  June  9.  Renewed  covenant,  and  took  God  for  my  God, 
 and  gave  myself  up  to  him  in  sincerity,  and  with  more  joy  than 
 I  ever  did  before.  In  the  afternoon  was  favored  with  another 
 most  sweet  and  refreshing  season  in  secret  prayer.     Have  sel- 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 109 
 
 dom,  if  ever,  felt  more  fervency,  more  haired  of  sin,  and  more 
 longing  desn'es  after  holiness. 
 
 "  June  10.  The  family  being  mostly  absent  to-day,  I  resolved 
 to  spend  it  in  fasting  and  prayer,  for  a  supply  of  ministerial 
 gifts  and  Christian  graces ;  especially  that  I  might  be  made  an 
 able,  faithful,  and  successful  minister  of  the  New  Testament. 
 Was  assisted,  both  last  night  and  this  morning,  in  seeking  the 
 divine  presence  and  blessing.  God  graciously  heard  and  an- 
 swered me.  I  was  favored  with  great  and  unusual  fervency 
 and  perseverance  in  prayer,  was  enabled  to  confess  and  mourn 
 over  my  sins,  and  to  mourn  because  I  could  not  mourn  more, 
 and  was  assisted  in  renewing  covenant  with  God,  and  in  giving 
 myself  up  to  be  his  forever.  Was  entirely  exhausted,  and  worn 
 out  in  body  and  mind,  before  night,  by  the  strong  and  unutter- 
 able desires  I  felt  after  personal  holiness  and  the  success  of 
 Christ's  kingdom.  On  the  whole,  it  has  been  a  very  profitable 
 day  to  my  soul,  as  by  divine  goodness,  most,  if  not  all,  my  fast 
 days  have  been." 
 
 Four  days  after  this,  he  experienced  a  most  melancholy  re- 
 verse, viewing  himself  as  the  "  most  vile,  loathsome,  worthless, 
 wretch  in  existence ;  could  only  throw  himself  prostrate  and 
 utter  the  cry  of  the  publican — 'God,  be  merciful  to  me  a  sin- 
 ner.' "  The  cause  of  this  distress  is  unintentionally  indicated. 
 He  was  "  sick  in  body  and  mind."  But, 
 
 "  As  poison  oft  the  force  of  poison  quells," 
 
 so  the  far  more  wretched  condition,  and  still  more  melancholy 
 prospects,  of  a  fellow-creature,  caused  him  to  forget  his  own 
 misery  :  — 
 
 Was  called  to  see  a  sick  man  supposed  to  be  dying  ;  he  was 
 a  professor,  aged  eighty-seven.  Found  him  something  alarmed, 
 but  he  gave  no  satisfactory  evidence  of  a  change.  Stated  to 
 him  his  danger  and  the  remedy,  but  I  fear,  to  little  purpose. 
 Was  much  assisted  in  preaching.  My  strength  continued  and 
 even  increased,  though  quite  exhausted  at  the  close.  Went  to 
 see  the  sick  man  again.  Found  him  better  in  body,  but  worse 
 in  mind. 
 
no 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "  June  16.  Had  no  heart  to  confess  my  sins  ;  could  find  no 
 words  which  would  do  any  thing  towards  it.  Saw  no  hope  — 
 scarcely  any  possibility  of  being  either  happy  or  useful.  Tried 
 all  day  to  study,  but  could  neither  write  nor  read,  and  was 
 completely  discouraged.  It  seemed  as  if  I  must  give  up  preach- 
 ing. 
 
 "  June  17.  Had  some  life  this  morning,  but  was  harassed 
 Avith  Avandering  thoughts.  Seemed  to  myself  more  vile  than 
 any  other  creature  existing.  Expected  an  occasion  for  a  fune- 
 ral sermon,  yet  could  effect  nothing.  Seldom,  if  ever,  spent  a 
 more  painful  day.  Was  ready  to  say,  What  profit  shall  we 
 have,  if  we  pray  unto  him ;  for  I  prayed  once  and  again,  but 
 found  no  relief.  In  the  evening,  felt  a  little  better,  but  then  was 
 ready  to  sink,  and  seemed  fit  for  nothing  but  to  be  fuel  for  God's 
 wrath. 
 
 "June  18.  Suffered  more  of  hell  to-day  than  ever  I  did  in 
 my  life.  O  such  torment !  I  wanted  but  little  of  being  dis- 
 tracted.   I  could  neither  read,  nor  write,  nor  pray,  nor  sit  still. 
 
 "  June  19.  Rose  in  the  same  state  of  mind  in  which  I  lay 
 down.  Rode  out,  and  felt  some  better,  so  that  I  found  some 
 liberty  to  pray. — P.  M.  Went  with  fear  and  trembling  to  at- 
 tend a  fimeral.  Was  assisted  in  speaking  to  the  mourners  :  as 
 the  multitude  was  very  great,  I  was  requested  to  pray  out  of 
 doors ;  and  though  the  situation  was  new,  and  I  was  unwell,  I 
 was  carried  through.  Felt  some  relief  from  my  load  of  melan- 
 choly, and  was  enabled  to  write. 
 
 "  June  20.  Set  apart  this  day  for  fasting  and  prayer.  Was 
 uiuisually  assisted  in  pleading  for  increase  in  holiness.  Felt 
 such  intense  longings  and  thirstings  after  more  love  to  God  and 
 man,  more  devotedness  to  God's  will,  more  zeal  for  his  glory, 
 that  my  body  was  almost  overcome.  Towards  night,  was  ena- 
 bled to  plead  with  greater  fervency  than  ever,  so  that  I  trust 
 this  will  prove  the  most  profitable  day  I  have  ever  had.  In  the 
 evening,  was  greatly  assisted  in  prayer,  so  that  I  could  scarcely 
 retire  to  rest. 
 
 "  June  21.  Went  to  meeting  with  raised  expectations  ;  but  it 
 pleased  God  to  leave  me  more  destitute  than  usual,  though  I  was 
 carried  through.  When  I  first  came  out  of  the  pulpit,  I  was 
 not  in  a  very  good  frame  ;  but  before  I  got  half  way  home,  was 
 easy,  satisfied,  and  even  pleased  to  be  despised,  so  that  God's 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 ni 
 
 will  might  be  done.  Was  much  more  assisted  in  the  afternoon. 
 Felt  thankful. 
 
 "  June  22.  Very  unusual  degrees  of  fervor  this  morning. 
 Very  unwell  all  day,  and  did  little  in  my  study.  In  the  eve- 
 ning, was  overwhelmed  with  a  sense  of  my  own  unworthiness. 
 O  how  wretchedly  my  life  passes  away ! 
 
 "  June  23.  As  soon  as  I  awoke  tliis  morning,  my  heart  was 
 filled  with  most  intense  love  to  God  and  Christ,  so  that  it  was 
 even  ready  to  break  for  the  longing  desires  it  had  to  go  forth  af- 
 ter God.  I  was  greatly  assisted  in  praying  that  1  might  be  made 
 an  instrument  of  promoting  the  divine  glory  in  the  world. 
 
 "June  25.  Thinking  it  would  be  more  convenient  to  keep  my 
 weekly  fast  on  this  day,  sought  the  divine  presence  and  bless- 
 ing. Felt  some  warm  affections  towards  my  Saviour  at  first, 
 but  afterwards  could  neither  realize  my  wants,  nor  pray  to  have 
 them  removed.  Continued  in  this  frame  till  towards  night, 
 and  was  then  favored  with  a  deep  sense  of  my  utter  vileness. 
 Was  also  enabled  to  plead,  even  with  agony  of  soul,  to  be  freed 
 from  the  power  of  a  selfish  nature.  Could  not  think  of  being 
 any  longer  subject  to  it. 
 
 "June  26.  Much  favored.  Felt  insatiable  desires  after  holi- 
 ness, and  that  I  might  spend  every  moment  of  future  life  to  the 
 divme  glory. 
 
 "June  29.  "Faint,  yet  pursuing,"  is  a  good  motto  for  me. 
 Could  do  nothing  in  the  morning,  but  iti  the  afternoon  gave  up 
 all  hopes  of  ever  doing  any  thing.  Iniquities  seemed  to  prevail 
 against  me,  and  I  was  ready  to  despair ;  but,  throwing  my- 
 self on  the  Lord  Jesus  for  help,  I  received  strength.  In 
 the  evening,  was  favored  with  freedom.  Felt  that  I  am  much 
 more  habitually  affected  by  religious  subjects  than  I  have  been 
 formerly;  nor  are  my  affections  less  vehement,  or  less  easily 
 excited. 
 
 "June  30.  Was  ready  to  sink  an^J  be  discouraged  in  view 
 of  my  exceeding  sinfulness  and  little  progress  in  religion. 
 
 "  July  1.  Much  sweetness  in  prayer  this  morning.  Felt 
 broken  and  contrite  for  sin. — P.  M.  Was  greatly  sunk  and 
 depressed.  Seemed  to  be  a  poor,  miserable,  useless  wretch. 
 Went  and  poured  forth  my  sorrows  at  the  feet  of  my  com- 
 passionate Saviour,  and  found  relief  O  how  gracious  is  our 
 God  ! 
 
112 
 
 M  E  JI  0  I  R  OF 
 
 '^JuLYO.  Sabbath.  Had  some  devout  feelings  and  desire 
 after  assistance  this  morning,  but  could  not  get  hold  of  any 
 thing  in  a  very  realizing  manner.  Was  very  much  deserted  in 
 prayer  and  sermon,  and  felt  much  distressed  ;  but  in  the  after 
 noon,  was  favored  with  great  enlargement,  both  in  prayer  and 
 and  sermon.  Felt  a  strong  love  for  souls,  and  for  the  Lord 
 Jesus.  Was  weak  and  exhausted;  but.  after  resting  awhile, 
 had  a  most  sweet,  refreshing,  strengthening  season  in  prayer. 
 Never  before  felt  so  much  of  the  spirit  of  the  gospel.  Felt  like 
 a  pure  flame  of  love  towards  God  and  man.  Self  seemed  to  be 
 almost  swallowed  up.  Felt  willing  to  go  any  where,  or  be  any 
 thing,  by  which  God  could  be  glorified,  and  sinners  saved. 
 Felt  my  hopes  of  being  useful  in  the  world  strengthened.  O 
 how  lovely,  how  kind,  how  condescendingly  gracious,  did  my 
 God  appear !  Gave  myself  up  to  him  without  reserve,  and 
 took  him  for  my  only  portion.  Blessed  be  his  name  for  this 
 season. 
 
 "  July  6.  Rode  out  this  morning,  and  found  much  sweetness 
 in  continually  lifting  up  my  heart  to  God  in  fervent  ejaculations. 
 In  the  evening,  had  such  a  view  of  the  difficulties  in  my  way, 
 and  of  my  exceeding  sinfulness,  that  I  was  ready  to  sink ;  but 
 my  blessed  Saviour  put  forth  his  hand  and  caught  me. 
 
 "  July  7.  Was  harassed  with  wandering,  gloomy,  and  dis- 
 tressing imaginations.  Could  not  fix  upon  a  text,  and  was 
 much  perplexed  what  to  do.  Was  overwhelmed  with  melan- 
 choly.— P.  M.  Went  to  a  funeral,  and  was  favored  with  some 
 assistance.  Went  to  make  a  visit;  found  good  Christian  peo- 
 ple, a  most  kind  reception,  and  profitable  conversation." 
 
 Few  enjoyments  were  more  exquisit?ly  satisfying  to  Mr. 
 Payson,  than  those  which  he  derived  from  religious  intercourse. 
 In  a  company  of  fellow-Christians,  whose  feelings  would  rise 
 responsive  to  his  own,  \vtien  the  themes  of  a  Saviour's  love, 
 and  of  human  obligation  and  privilege,  Avere  agitated,  his  soul 
 seemed  to  revel  in  spiritual  delights ;  and  he  was  gifted  by 
 nature  and  grace  with  the  prerogative  of  infusing  a  rich  portion 
 of  his  own  emotions  into  the  rest  of  the  favored  circle.  These 
 interviews  are  remembered,  by  many  a  surviving  pilgrim,  as 
 among  the  liveliest  emblems  of  that  "  better  country,"  which 
 he  has  ceased  to  anticipate,  by  actual  fruition.    It  is  not  with- 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON 
 
 113 
 
 out  a  degree  of  shrinking,  that  we  follow  him  in  his  sudden 
 transition  from  scenes  like  these  into  the  very  depths  of  distress ; 
 or  awaking  the  following  morning,  "  weak,  dejected,  melancholy, 
 regarding  himself  as  useless  in  the  world,  born  only  to  sin,  and 
 abuse  the  mercies  of  his  Saviour  and  God,  to  disgrace  the  religion 
 which  he  preached,  and  bring  aishonor  on  the  blessed  name  by 
 which  he  was  called" — in  a  word,  ''oppressed  with  a  load  of 
 guili,  so  that  he  did  not  dare  to  retire  to  his  chamber  till  driven 
 thither,  and  even  there,  while  prostrate  in  the  dust,  could  hardly 
 refrain,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul,  from  praying  to  be  released 
 from  the  body! "  In  the  debilitated  state  of  his  nervous  system, 
 and  in  his  impaired  health,  the  reader  will  see  a  physical  cause 
 for  this  depression.  He  had  actually  no  more  reason  to  doubt  of 
 his  safety,  than  he  had  in  his  most  joyful  frames.  On  this 
 point,  his  own  judgment  seems  to  have  been  sufficiently  discern- 
 ing, even  when  its  decisions  could  not  summon  to  his  aid  that 
 relief  for  which  he  sighed;  for  in  immediate  connection  with 
 these  heart-rending  lamentations,  he  says,  "  Other  griefs  leave 
 the  mind  strength  to  grapple  with  them;  but  this  oppressive 
 melancholy  cuts  the  very  sinews  of  the  soul,  so  that  it  lies  pros- 
 trate, and  cannot  exert  itself  to  throw  off  the  load."' 
 
 The  next  day  after  penning  this  graphic  and  unequalled 
 description  of  his  real  malady,  he  is  seen  in  the  "chariot  of 
 Amminadib,"  his  mind  moving  with  an  angel's  speed,  and  per- 
 forming the  labor  of  many  days  in  one: — "Was  favored  with 
 fervency  and  freedom  in  prayer.  Was  greatly  assisted  in  writ- 
 ing, through  the  day,  and  wrote  nearly  two  sermons.  Felt  in 
 a  composed,  thankful  frame,  all  day,  and  felt  the  most  ardent 
 love  for  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  for  all  mankind." 
 
 In  the  mitigated  forms  of  melancholy  there  is  a  soul-subduing 
 power,  which  few  are  able  to  resist.  It  then  loses  its  repulsive 
 character,  and  the  soul  of  the  witness  is  attracted  and  melted 
 into  sympathy.  A  mind  conscious  of  its  misery,  yet  retaining 
 Its  balance,  and  surveying  its  own  desolations  with  un repining 
 submission,  presents  a  spectacle  of  moral  sublimity,  not  sur- 
 passed by  any  thing  which  falls  under  human  observation. 
 This  constitutes  one  of  the  charms  of  our  Saviour's  character, 
 and  much  of  the  value  of  his  example.  In  this  attitude,  Mr. 
 Payson  may  be  seen  in  some  of  the  following  extracts,  and  very 
 often  in  the  course  of  his  life.  In  the  second,  there  is  the  ex- 
 pression of  a  "wish,"  which  if  rigidly  interpreted,  might  be 
 VOL.  I.  1  r, 
 
114 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 understood  as  indicating  a  criminal  dissatisfaction  with  lifu. 
 But  it  is  an  involuntary  wish,  not  incompatible  with  innocence 
 of  mind;  for  it  has  its  counterpart  in  the  spotless  Sufferer  of  the 
 garden  of  Gethsemane :  — 
 
 "  July  17.  Find  that  the  two  principal  things,  in  Avhich  I  fail 
 externally,  are,  the  due  improvement  of  time,  and  the  govern- 
 ment of  my  tongue.  I  daily  lose  many  moments — I  might 
 almost  say  hours  —  in  giving  way  too  much  to  my  feelings  of 
 gloom  and  discouragement;  and  I  say  many  things  which  at 
 best  are  unprofitable. 
 
 "  July  18.  Almost  distracted;  but  was  kept  most  of  the  time 
 from  repining  or  murmuring,  only  sometimes  I  could  not  help 
 wishing  that  1  were  extinct ;  but  this  was  wrung  from  me  by 
 the  pressure  of  anguish,  for  my  soul  was  exceeding  sorrowful. 
 
 "  July  19.  Sabbath.  Rose  very  early,  worn  out  in  body  and 
 mind ;  but  felt  sweetly  resigned  to  the  divine  Avill,  and  was 
 willing  to  be  assisted  as  much,  and  as  little,  as  God  should  see 
 fit.  Had  some  assistance ;  but  after  meeting  was  excessively 
 weak  and  depressed  ;  thought  I  would  give  the  world  if  I  never 
 had  preached,  and  it  seemed  as  if  I  never  should  go  into  the 
 pulpit  again. 
 
 "July  20.  Overwhelmed,  sunk,  discouraged  with  a  sense  of 
 sin.  All  efforts  seemed  to  be  in  vain.  Discoveries  of  my  vile- 
 ness,  instead  of  humbling  me,  as  might  be  expected,  only  excited 
 discouragement  and  unbelief;  while  the  manifestations  of  God's 
 love  only  make  me  proud  and  careless.  My  wretched  soul 
 cleaves  to  the  dust ! 
 
 "  July  22.  O,  v/hat  a  dreadful,  what  an  inconceivable  abyss 
 of  corruption  is  my  heart !  What  an  amazing  degree  of  pride 
 and  vanity,  of  selfishness  and  envy,  does  it  contain  ! 
 
 "  July  23.  Was  excited  to  feel  fretful  and  peevish  at  two 
 or  three  trifling  circumstances ;  but  fled  for  refuge  to  the  throne 
 of  grace,  and,  by  praying  for  myself,  for  the  persons  with  whom 
 I  was  disposed  to  be  offended,  and  especially  by  meditating  on 
 the  meekness  and  gentleness  of  Christ,  was  enabled  to  preserve 
 peace  and  tranquillity  of  mind.    Was  much  assisted  in  prayer. 
 
 "  July  24.  Was  visited  by  a  young  student  in  divinity,  and 
 had  some  profitable  conversation  with  him.  Was  never  able  to 
 converse  in  a  clearer  manner  upon  religious  subjects. 
 
 "  July  25.    This  being  my  birth  day,  I  set  it  apart  for  solemn 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 115 
 
 fasting  and  prayer,  with  thanksgiving.  After  confessing  and 
 mourning  over  the  sins  of  my  past  life,  and  contrasting  them 
 with  God's  mercies,  and  offering  up  praise  and  thanksgiving  for 
 his  goodness,  I  solemnly  renewed  covenant  with  God,  and,  witli 
 my  whole  heart,  so  far  as  I  could  judge,  gave  myself,  my 
 friends,  and  all  that  I  have,  to  be  disposed  of  as  he  should  see 
 fit.  I  felt  willing  to  live  or  die,  as  God  pleased,  and  to  go 
 among  the  Indians,  or  to  any  part  of  the  world,  where  I  could 
 be  instrumental  in  promoting  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  happi- 
 ness of  man.  Felt  unnsually  longing,  insatiable,  and  intense 
 desires  after  holiness  of  heart  and  life,  and  especially  after  hu- 
 mility. Was  never  enabled  to  pray  more  fervently  for  spiritual 
 blessings — could  wrestle  and  persevere  therein.  Felt  an  im- 
 pression that  this  is  the  last  birth  day  I  shall  ever  see." 
 
 The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  and  he  was  so  far  spent  with 
 its  labors,  that  it  was  with  difficulty  he  could  reach  his  lodg- 
 ings. The  night  was  passed  without  rest  ;  and  of  his  in- 
 creased weakness  in  the  morning  "  Satan  was  suffered  to  take 
 advantage,  and  fill  his  mind  with  unutterable  anguish."  But 
 he  "  found  relief  in  prayer,  and  felt  strengthened  to  go  on  with 
 fresh  vigor  in  his  Christian  course,  exclaiming  —  O,  how  true  it 
 is.  tliat,  to  those  who  have  no  might,  he  increaseth  strength." 
 
 "  July  29.  I  yesterday  read  an  author  on  the  subject  of  hu- 
 man depravity,  and,  being  perplexed  with  some  of  his  objec- 
 tions, prayed  to  be  guided  to  the  truth  in  this  doctrine.  Was 
 now  convinced,  beyond  a  doubt,  that  in  me  naturally  dwelt  no 
 good  thing.  O,  how  vile,  how  loathsome  did  my  heart  appear ! 
 I  was  ready  to  think  I  had  never  known  any  thing  at  all  of  my 
 own  character  before,  and  that  there  were  infinite  depths  in  my 
 nature,  that  I  could  not  see.  In  the  course  of  the  day,  was 
 favored  with  still  further  discoveries  of  myself,  of  true  holiness, 
 and  of  Christ,  so  that  I  seemed  never  to  have  known  any  thing 
 of  true  religion  before. 
 
 "Aug.  3.  My  blessed  Saviour,  compassionating  my  weak- 
 ness, was  pleased  to  make  me  strong  in  himself,  and  to  favor  me 
 with  a  most  refreshing  season.    Never  felt  so  desirous  to  depart 
 
116 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 and  be  with  Christ,  and  at  the  same  time  more  wilUng  to  live  * 
 and  undergo  all  hardships  for  his  glory.  Desired  that  my  life 
 might  be  spent  in  a  close  walk  with  God." 
 
 His  '•'  desire  to  become  a  missionary  "  revived  about  this  time, 
 but  did  not  ripen  into  a  fixed  purpose,  for  the  plain  reason,  that 
 he  could  not  determine  that  such  was  the  will  of  God.  He  sub- 
 mitted the  decision  of  the  question  to  his  Master  in  heaven, 
 praying,  "  that  God  would  do  with  him  as  he  pleased,  in  this 
 respect." 
 
 "  Aug.  5.  Was  greatly  perplexed  and  distressed,  yet  tried  to 
 keep  myself  in  a  quiet,  waiting  frame,  but  found  great  diffi- 
 culty in  keeping  out  impatient,  murmuring  thoughts.  Could 
 not  determine  whether  my  being  thus  deserted  was  to  punish 
 me  for  my  slothfulness  and  misimprovementof  time,  or  only  for 
 the  trial  of  my  faith  and  patience.  My  soul  remembered  the 
 bitterness  and  the  gall  which  it  had  once  before  experienced  on 
 a  similar  occasion,  and  shuddered  at  the  idea  of  a  renewal." 
 
 Extracts  might  be  multiplied,  exhibiting  him  as  "  sinking  in 
 deep  waters,  where  the  floods  overflow  him,"  and  then  again 
 "  surprised  with  a  sudden  visit  from  his  blessed  Lord,  full  of 
 sweetness  to  his  soul ;" — his  mind  at  one  time  so  clogged  in  its 
 operations  by  his  burdens,  that  he  "  tried  in  vain  to  Avrite  ;"  at 
 another,  so  buoyant,  that,  "  though  almost  confined  to  his  bed, 
 he  is  enabled  to  write  a  whole  sermon  in  a  day."  This  con- 
 trast is  no  where  more  strikingly  marked  than  by  the  following 
 entry,  after  suffering  from  "  melancholy,  which  overwhelmed 
 him  like  a  thousand  mountains,  so  that  his  soul  was  crushed 
 under  it :" — 
 
 "  Aug.  15.  Rose  in  a  sweet,  tranquil,  thankful  frame,  blessing 
 God  for  the  storm  of  yesterday,  and  the  calm  to-day.  O,  how 
 great  is  his  wisdom,  how  great  his  goodness  !  Had  faith  and 
 freedom  in  prayer.  Yesterday,  I  thought  God  himself  could 
 hardly  carry  me  through.    But  to-day— O,  how  changed  !" 
 
 •  "  Nor  love  thy  life,  nor  hate ;  but  what  tliou  liv'st 
 Live  well ;  how  long  or  short,  permit  to  heaven." 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 117 
 
 Before  this,  the  reader  may  have  expected  to  learn  what  influ- 
 ence his  secret  devotions  had  on  the  services  of  the  sanctuary, 
 also  the  result  of  his  public  labors  in  regard  to  the  people  to 
 whom  he  ministered.  It  is  almost  superfluous  to  add,  that  they 
 were  not  without  effect.  Others  "  took  knowledge  of  him,  that 
 he  had  been  with  Jesus."  The  solemnity  and  unction  of  his 
 social  prayers ;  the  earnestness  and  variety  of  argument  with 
 which  he  pleaded  at  the  throne  of  grace  ;  his  unyielding  impor- 
 tunity for  the  blessings  which  he  sought,  —  had  roused  atten- 
 tion, and  drawn  forth  the  confession,  that  "  the  Spirit  of  the 
 holy  God  was  within  him."  "  God  must  help  him,  or  he  could 
 never  pray  so," — said  an  observing  man,  who  had  previously 
 professed  no  regard  for  religion.  Herein  he  doubtless  expressed 
 the  generally-prevailing  sentiment,  as  Mr.  Payson  mentions 
 among  his  trials,  "  well-meant,  but  injudicious  commendations," 
 while  he  renders  "  all  the  glory  to  God,  who  did  not  suffer  him 
 to  forget  his  own  wealmess." 
 
 But  besides  the  general  impression  produced  by  his  preach- 
 ing, he  was  instrumental  of  individual  conversions.  More  than 
 once  he  was  allowed  to  record  an  event  like  the  following  — 
 "  Truly  in  faithfulness  God  afflicts  me.  Early  this  morning,  a 
 young  man  came  to  me  under  deep  distress  of  mind,  and  gave 
 pretty  satisfactory  evidence  that  he  had  experienced  a  real 
 change.  He  said  he  had  received  great  benefit  from  my  preach- 
 ing. This  was  a  very  seasonable  cordial  to  my  fainting  spirits." 
 Such  events  caused  him  to  "  retire  to  his  chamber,  overflowing 
 with  wonder  and  gratitude  at  God's  unmerited  goodness  to  sucli 
 a  miserable  wretch." 
 
 His  faithful  conversation  was  also  blessed  to  the  family  with 
 whom  he  resided  ;  and  the  last  Sabbath  on  which  be  officiated 
 at  Marlborough,  it  was  his  happiness  to  propound  his  host  and 
 hostess  as  candidates  for  admission  into  the  church.  Thus 
 early  did  God  honor  his  ministry,  and  give  him  an  earnest  of 
 the  power  which  was  to  attend  the  word  dispensed  by  him. 
 
 Enough  has  been  developed  to  show  the  secret  of  Dr.  Pay- 
 son's  greatness,  and  of  his  success.  He  laid  hold  on  the  divine 
 strength.  Prayer,  by  which  the  creature  communes  with  God, 
 and  obtains  grace  to  help  in  every  time  of  need,  was  em.inently 
 the  business  of  his  life,  and  the  medium  through  which  he  de- 
 rived inexhaustible  supplies.    It  was  not  the  stated  morning  and 
 
118 
 
 M  E  M  0  I K  OF 
 
 evening  incense  alone^  which  he  offered ;  but  that  he  had 
 "  mitch  enlargement,  and  many  sweet  seasons  of  prayer  during 
 the  day,"  is  matter  of  frequent  record,  and  probably  of  still 
 more  frequent  experience.  Almost  incessantly  was  he  conver- 
 sant with  spiritual  and  eternal  things.  His  conversation  was  in 
 heaven.  He  also  valued  and  sought  the  intercessions  of  others. 
 In  a  letter  to  his  parents,  probably  the  first  he  ever  wrote  after 
 he  commenced  preaching,  he  says — "I  beg  you  to  pray  for  me 
 most  earnestly  and  importunately.  I  seem  to  be  walking  on  a 
 hair,  and  hardly  dare  go  down  to  breakfast  or  dinner,  lest  I 
 should  say  or  do  something  which  may  disgrace  the  ministry,  or 
 hurt  the  cause  of  religion ;  so  that  I  shall  never  need  your 
 prayers  more  than  now."  The  sensibility  to  danger,  here  so 
 apparent,  though  it  occasionally  subjected  him  to  temporary 
 indecision  and  perplexity,  was,  next  to  the  promised  support  of 
 the  Most  High,  his  greatest  security. 
 
 It  will  also  have  been  seen,  that  Mr.  Payson  was  subject  to 
 great  extremes  of  feeling — at  one  time,  "caught  up,"  with  Paul, 
 where  he  heard  "  things  unutterable  ;"  at  another,  sunk  to  the 
 lowest  point  of  depression,  where  existence  was  a  "  burden  too 
 heavy  for  him."  Many  have  imagined  his  Christian  career  to 
 have  been  one  of  uninterrupted  joy  and  triumph,  and  such  will, 
 perhaps,  regret  any  allusion  to  those  seasons  when  "  his  soul 
 was  cast  down  in  him;"  but  to  keep  these  out  of  sight,  would 
 be  to  conceal  a  class  of  affections,  from  which  his  exercises,  lan- 
 guage and  conduct  received  important  modifications.  Subse- 
 quently to  this  time,  there  were,  in  his  character,  phenomena  to 
 be  accounted  for ;  and  the  causes,  which  it  is  impossible  wholly 
 to  suppress,  may  as  well  be  fairly  divulged  as  merely  insinuated 
 and  left  for  suspicion  to  magnify.  Scoffers  and  revilers  will 
 draw  poison  from  the  disclosure — and  what  will  they  not  per- 
 vert?— but  others  will  improve  it  to  a  holier  purpose  ;  for 
 
 "  With  a  soul  that  ever  felt  the  sting 
 Of  sorrow,  sorrow  is  a  sacred  thing." 
 
 There  are  minds  so  delicately  strung,  that  they  cannot  escape 
 its  most  distressing  attacks.  Friendship,  philosophy,  and  even 
 religion,  as  it  exists  in  imperfect  man,  caimot  oppose  a  complete 
 barrier  to  its  influence.    With  many,  in  fact,  it  is  the  principal 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 119 
 
 part  of  their  religious  discipline.  Tiie  best  of  men  have  occa- 
 sionally groaned  under  its  pressure.  It  made  Job  "  weary  of 
 his  life ;"  and  that  pensive,  tender-hearted  prophet,  who  was 
 sanctified  from  the  womb,  and  to  whom  the  subject  of  this 
 Memoir  bore  no  slight  resemblance,  complains — "  When  I 
 would  comfort  myself  against  sorrow,  my  heart  is  faint  in  me !" 
 Why  should  it  be  thought  strange,  then,  that  uninspired  men 
 are  not  exempted  from  this  calamity  ? 
 
 "  'Tis  not,  as  heads  that  never  ache  suppose, 
 
 Forgei-y  of  fancy,  and  a  dream  of  wees ; 
 
 Man  is  a  liarp  vvliose  chords  elude  the  sight, 
 
 Each  yielding  harmony,  disposed  aright ; 
 
 The  screws  reversed,  (a  task,  wliich,  if  he  please, 
 
 God  in  a  moment  executes  witii  ease,) 
 
 Ten  thousand  thousand  strings  at  once  go  loose, 
 
 Lost,  till  he  tune  them,  all  their  power  and  use." 
 
 "  No  wounds  like  those  a  wounded  spirit  feels. 
 
 No  ciu"e  for  such,  till  God,  who  makes  them,  heals." 
 
 And  yet  how  barbarously  is  the  state  of  mind,  here  described 
 treated ! 
 
 "  This,  of  all  maladies  that  man  mfest 
 Claims  most  compassion,  and  receives  the  least ; 
 Job  felt  it  when  he  groaned  beneath  the  rod 
 And  the  barbed  arrows  of  a  frowning  God ; 
 And  such  emollients  as  his  friends  could  spare. 
 Friends  such  as  his  for  modern  Jobs  prepare. 
 Blest,  rather  curst,  with  hearts  that  never  feel. 
 Kept  snug  in  caskets  of  close-hammered  steel. 
 With  mouths  made  only  to  grin  wide  and  elit, 
 And  minds  that  deem  derided  pain  a  treat. 
 With  limbs  of  British  oak,  and  nei  ves  of  wire. 
 And  wit,  that  puppet-prompters  might  inspire, 
 Their  sovereign  nostrum  is  a  clunjsy  joke 
 On  pangs  enforced  with  God's  severest  stroke." 
 
 Language,  which  is  wrung  from  a  man  by  the  agony  of  feel- 
 ing, will,  nevertheless,  be  variously  interpreted  by  ditferent 
 readers,  as  they  shall  sympathize  or  not  with  his  doctrinal  be- 
 hef.  Had  the  expressions  already  quoted,  and  which,  in  the 
 mouth  of  a        calculator,  would  certainly  indicate  a  disgust 
 
120 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 with  life,  escaped  Mr.  Payson  at  a  later  i  eriod.  immediately 
 on  some  reverse  in  his  prospects,  by  wh  h  his  fame  would  be 
 affected  —  they  might  have  been  regarded  as  the  language  of 
 disappointed  ambition,  presenting  a  case  analogous  to  that  of 
 the  disobedient  prophet,  Avho,  because  God  had  averted  from 
 Nineveh  the  catastrophe  which  he  had  predicted,  thought  he 
 "did  well  to  be  angry,  even  unto  death."  But  he  had  just  en- 
 tered on  his  profession,  had  matured  no  schemes  of  self-exalta- 
 tion, was  without  a  rival,  and  a  mere  sojourner,  not  knowing 
 whither  his  next  remove  would  be,  or  where  his  ultimate  desti- 
 nation would  place  him.  His  pretensions  were  as  modest,  and 
 his  expectations  as  humble,  as  those  of  any  man  in  similar 
 circumstances.  And,  so  far  from  suffering  the  chagrin  of  dis- 
 appointment, his  preaching  was  regarded  with  a  degree  of  ap- 
 probation which  exceeded  his  highest  hopes.  In  no  case  do 
 these  expressions  indicate  a  deliberately  formed  and  cherished 
 wish  ;  on  the  contrary,  they  are  the  utterance  of  a  momentary 
 and  involuntary  feeling ;  a  feeling  suddenly  excited,  and  more 
 suddenly  rejected ;  a  feeling,  therefore,  which  might  have  left 
 the  mind  wholly  uncontaminated  with  guilt. 
 
 "  Evil  into  the  mind  of  God  oi*  man 
 
 May  come  and  go,  so  unapproved,  and  leave 
 
 No  spot  or  blame  behind." 
 
 In  judging  of  this  class  of  his  exercises,  it  should  not  be  for- 
 gotten, that  his  health  was  already  undermined  ;  his  system  had 
 lost  much  of  its  elasticity,  and  encountered  a  shock,  from  the 
 effects  of  which  it  never  afterwards  recovered.  Besides,  he 
 had  a  constitutional  predisposition  to  melancholy,  which  other 
 branches  of  his  family  are  said  to  have  inherited  to  a  still  more 
 painful  degree.  This  caused  him  frequently  to  view  every 
 thing  connected  with  his  own  personal  security,  prospects,  and 
 usefulness,  tlirougli  the  medium  of  a  distorting  and  aggravating 
 gloom.  But  to  make  his  faith  accountable  for  his  distresses, 
 would  be  the  highest  offence  to  his  now  sainted  spirit,  and  the 
 grossest  libel  upon  that  religion  which  bore  him  above  the  im- 
 measurably accumulated  sufferings  of  his  last  days.  His 
 religion,  instead  of  being  the  cause  of  his  gloom,  was  his  only 
 refuge  from  its  overwhelming  effects.  The  precious  doctrines 
 oi  grace,  according  to  his  own  views  of  them,  alo»e  kept  him 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON 
 
 121 
 
 from  sinking.  His  distress,  indeed,  was  often  owing  to  inade- 
 quate causes,  and  his  "mind  slow  to  receive  the  comfort" 
 which  God  is  ever  ready  to  bestow;  but  if,  with  his  own  views 
 of  the  gospel,  he  was  sometimes  melancholy,  with  different 
 views  he  would  have  gone  distracted. 
 
 These  remarks  are  not  intended  as  a  defence,  but  as  an  im- 
 partial exhibition  of  facts.  We  are  not  concerned  to  approve 
 of  every  thing  in  Mr.  Payson's  character.  He  was  a  man  —  a 
 sinner ;  and  it  is  well  for  survivers  that  he  had  faults,  lest,  iu 
 looking  at  him,  they  should  lose  sight  of  his  and  their  Saviour. 
 To  a  man  whom  so  many  excellencies  rendered  lovely,  and 
 who  was,  in  the  best  sense,  the  benefactor  of  thousands,  they 
 would  be  in  danger  of  rendering  a  sort  of  idolatrous  homage, 
 if  there  were  no  features  in  his  character  to  be  contemplated 
 with  pain  and  regret.  So  far  as  the  destruction  of  his  health 
 was  brought  on  by  his  own  imprudences,  he  is  to  be  blamed ; 
 and  is  in  a  measure,  responsible  for  the  consequences.  He  did 
 not  foresee  them,  it  is  true,  but  thought  himself  an  exception 
 to  a  general  law ;  still  he  should  have  hearkened  to  the  paren- 
 tal voice  which  warned  him.  He  erred  too — if  one  may  say 
 it  without  arrogance,  whose  pretensions  to  piety  are  as  nothing 
 compared  with  his — in  looking  too  much  to  frames  for  the  evi- 
 dences of  his  piety.  He  was  too  solicitous  for  sensible!  enjoy- 
 ment, and  too  much  disturbed  by  its  absence.  Yet,  however 
 deep  his  sadness  at  these  times,  he  had  not  a  settled  melancholy. 
 With  his  susceptibility,  he  could  not,  probably,  have  survived  a 
 long  period  of  spiritual  desertion,  and  to  this  he  was  not  doomed; 
 but  he  was  too  impatiently  eager  for  total  exemption,  and  for 
 this  he  was  most  severely  chastised  by  the  same  kind  hand 
 which  so  plentifully  rewarded  his  fidelity. 
 
 There  is,  however,  one  aspect,  in  which  all  the  hardships 
 that  he  imposed  on  himself,  —  the  ruin  of  his  constitution  by  ab- 
 stinence, night  vigils,  and  extraordinary  exertion,  and  even  all 
 his  mental  agonies, — may  be  viewed  with  a  feeling  of  entire 
 reconciliation.  All  these  trying  processes,  to  Avhich  he  subjected 
 his  mind,  may  justly  be  regarded  as  a  series  of  experiments  on 
 himself,  designed  by  Providence  for  the  good  of  the  church, 
 indeed  of  the  human  race.  To  him,  in  the  exercise  of  his  fu- 
 ture ministry,  they  Avere  incalculably  valuable.  The  knowledge 
 acquired  by  this  painful  experience  was  not  without  vast  ex- 
 
 VOL.  I.  16 
 
122 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 pense  to  himself;  but  it  constituted  one  of  his  most  importani 
 qualifications  for  aiding  numerous  other  souls  through  the  laby- 
 rinths of  error  and  mental  distress.  •  In  this  way  he  was  taught 
 "  how  to  speak  a  word  in  season  to  him  that  is  weary"  —  to  be 
 "a  guide  of  the  blind,  a  light  to  them  that  are  in  darkness,  a 
 teacher  of  babes."  So  familiar  did  he  become  with  almost  ev- 
 ery possible  case  of  conscience,  every  form  of  spiritual  trial  and 
 delusion,  to  which  either  inquirers  or  established  Christians  are 
 exposed,  that  he  could  instantly  recognise  their  symptoms,  and 
 apply  the  needed  antidote. 
 
 In  all  his  revolutions  of  feeling,  varied  exercises,  and  chang- 
 ing frames,  there  is  discoverable  an  unvarying  simplicity  of  pur- 
 pose. The  destruction  of  sin,  and  the  extension  of  the  empire 
 of  holiness  in  himself  and  others,  are  the  objects  constantly 
 before  him.  His  eye  was  single  and  directed  to  the  glory  of 
 God ;  and  he  longed  for  the  salvation  of  men,  as  the  work  in 
 which  the  divine  glory  eminently  appears.  He  complains  fre- 
 quently of  his  pride,  vanity,  and  selfishness — qualities,  doubt- 
 less, eminently  congenial  with  his  unrenewed  nature,  but  which 
 were  now  evidently  most  unwelcome  intruders,  and  which  it 
 was  his  constant  grief  that  he  could  not  wholly  dislodge.  Let 
 those,  who  would  convert  his  full  confessions  into  a  proof,  "that 
 he  was  sinful  above  all  men,"  be  reminded,  that,  if  they  were 
 to  watch  the  motions  of  their  own  hearts  with  the  same  care, 
 and  judge  them  with  the  same  unrelenting  severity,  they 
 might  find  even  greater  abominations,  than  any  of  which  he 
 complains,  holding  hitherto  undisturbed  empire  ofer  their 
 souls ;  and  not,  as  in  him,  annoying,  yet  conquered  passions, 
 which  the  gracious  principle  would  in  the  end  wholly  eradicato. 
 
 On  the  18th  of  August,  he  took  "  a  very  affectionate  leave  of 
 the  family  by  whom  he  had  been  so  kindly  entertained,"  and 
 revisited  home,  where  he  spent  three  days  ;  and  then  "  set  out 
 in  a  violent  rain  for  Andover,"  Mass.,  where  he  had  an  engage- 
 ment to  preach,  and  "  felt  some  consolation  in  reflecting  that  he 
 was  going  on  his  Father's  and  Saviour's  business."  The  sec- 
 ond day,  he  arrived,  "wet,  wearied,  and  dejected."  Of  his  per- 
 formances on  the  following  Sabbath,  he  says  —  "I  had  little 
 assistance  in  preaching,  and  pleased  neither  the  people  nor  my- 
 self" He  here  expresses,  not  an  opinion  merely,  but  a  fact. 
 Popular  as  he  deservedly  was,  his  preaching  was  not  regarded 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 123 
 
 with  favor  by  the  church  in  North  Andover,  which  had  been 
 left  destitute  by  the  death  of  Dr.  Symmes.  Whether  it  were 
 owing  to  their  preference,  or  his,  or  to  a  special  providence,  he 
 tarried  there  but  one  Sabbath,  and  his  next  remove  was  to  the 
 scene  of  his  future  labors — a  field  vastly  more  extensive,  and 
 one  which  he  was  eminently  fitted  to  occupy. 
 
CHAPTER  VII. 
 
 Visits  Portland,  —  his  favoi-able  reception,  and  Ordination. 
 
 On  the  morning  of  Monday,  August  24th,  Mr.  Payson  left 
 Andover  for  Portland  ;  his  mind  absorbed  with  heavenly  medi- 
 tations on  the  road,  and  praying  and  renewing  his  covenant  with 
 God  at  his  resting  places.  Stop  where  he  might,  he  was  sure 
 to  find  or  to  make  the  place  a  Bethel ;  and  while  the  solemnity 
 of  his  devotions  resembled  that  of  the  patriarch's  on  his  way 
 to  Pandan-aram,  his  faith  realised  what  that  patriarch  saw  in 
 vision,  and  found  an  open  way  of  communication  between  earth 
 and  heaven.    Thus  he  journeyed, 
 
 "  Prayer  all  his  business,  all  his  pleasure  praise." 
 
 He  arrived  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  and  lost  no  time  in 
 renewing  his  acquaintance,  and  entering  on  his  new  duties  there. 
 The  friglitful  reputation  of  being  a  Hopkinsian  had  preceded 
 him,  and  accounts  in  part  for  the  following  entry  in  his  diary: 
 
 "Aug.  27.  Visited  a  number  of  my  old  friends,  lest  they 
 should  think  me  sour  and  morose,  and  so  pay  less  regard  to  my 
 preaching.    Was  kindly  received." 
 
 A  letter  to  his  parents  contains  more  on  the  same  subject : — 
 
 "  Portland,  Aug.  31,  1807. 
 "  I  arrived  here  on  Wednesday  morning,  26th  inst.,  after  a 
 very  pleasant  ride,  from  which  I  have  already  derived  sufficient 
 advantage  to  compensate  me  for  the  time  and  expense.  My 
 
MEMOIR    OF    EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 125 
 
 health  seems  wonderfully  improved;  I  enjoy  sound,  refreshing 
 Sleep,  which  I  have  not  for  two  months  before  ;  and  I  feel  strong 
 and  able  to  study.  Nor  shall  I  derive  less  advantage,  in  another 
 point  of  view,  from  this  tour.  Mr.  Kellogg  tells  me,  that  he  had 
 heard  in  Boston,  that  I  was  rapidly  gaining  the  title  and  reputa- 
 tion of  a  Hopkinsian;  and  that  a  great  part  of  his  plan,  in 
 getting  me  here,  was  to  counteract  that  report,  and,  with  the 
 assistance  of  Mrs.  K.,  to  make  something  of  me,  to  use  his  own 
 expression.  However  this  may  be  he  seems  disposed  to  be  of 
 service  to  me  and  has  already  given  me  some  hints,  that  will  be 
 very  beneficial.  He  has  also  a  good  library,  and  I  shall,  I  trust, 
 be  able  to  spend  the  time  here  both  profitably  and  agreeably. 
 As  the  people  here  have  heard  that  I  am  a  Hop.,  and  think  it  a 
 great  pity  that  a  harmless  young  man  should  be  transformed 
 into  such  a  shocking  creature,  I  thought  it  might  have  a  good 
 effect  to  call  upon  all  my  old  acquaintances,  in  order  to  convince 
 them  that  my  religion  was  not  of  that  morose,  unsocial  kind 
 which  they  supposed ;  and  that  a  Hopkinsian,  supposing  me  to 
 be  one,  was  not  quite  so  bad  as  the  devil.  My  visits  were 
 received  more  kindly  than  I  expected,  and,  I  have  reason  to 
 think,  will,  in  some  measure,  produce  the  designed  effect." 
 
 Mr.  Payson  entered  upon  the  appropriate  duties  of  his  calling 
 •with  the  most  exemplary  diligence  and  energy,  and  the  effects 
 were  almost  immediately  visible.  Such  was  the  attention  exci- 
 ted by  his  preaching,  that  he  seems  to  have  regarded  himself  as 
 in  great  danger  of  thinking  more  highly  of  himself  than  he 
 ought  to  think,  and  to  have  brought  all  his  spiritual  forces  to 
 bear  against  this  propensity.  With  reference  to  this,  he  observed 
 frequent  seasons  of  humiliation,  and  oftener  renewed  the  conse- 
 cration of  himself  and  his  talents  to  God.  It  was  the  burden 
 of  his  secret  prayers,  that  he  might  be  delivered  from  pride, 
 from  self-seeking,  from  preaching  himself,  instead  of  Christ 
 Jesus  the  Lord. 
 
 "Sept.  6.  Heard  my  performances  much  commended;  and, 
 fearing  lest  I  should  feel  puffed  up,  I  withdrew,  and  prayed 
 earnestly  that  I  might  be  preserved  from  it.  And  God  was 
 pleased  to  assist  me  in  a  most  wonderful  and  unusual  manner 
 in  pleading,  not  only  for  that  and  other  mercies,  but  in  renewing 
 
126 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 covenant  with  him,  and  praising  him  for  all  his  mercies.  Never 
 felt  more  gratitude,  more  humility,  more  love  to  God  and  benev- 
 olence to  man,  than  at  this  time.  Indulged  some  hopes  that 
 God  would  pour  out  his  Spirit,  but  hardly  expected  it.  Saw 
 that  all  the  mercies  I  received  were  bestowed  for  the  sake  of  my 
 Lord  Jesus  alone ;  and  that  in  myself  I  was  far  more  deserving 
 of  hell  than  of  all  that  happiness.  Could  not  praise  God  as  I 
 wished,  but  my  soul  panted,  and  almost  fainted  with  ardor  of 
 desire  to  glorify  him,  and  be  wholly  devoted  to  his  service. 
 
 "Sept.  14.  Read  Baxter  on  Pride.  Was  almost  overwhel- 
 med to  see  how  much  I  have  in  my  heart.  Could  hardly  refrain 
 from  despairing  of  ever  being  humble." 
 
 In  a  letter  to  his  father,  written  a  few  days  after  this,  he  com- 
 plains of  himself  in  the  following  strain  :- 
 
 "I  almost  despair  of  making  any  improvement  in  this  world. 
 God  keeps  loading  nje  with  one  blessing  on  another,  but  I  can- 
 not grow  any  more  grateful.  I  cannot  feel  less  proud,  less 
 selfish,  less  worldly-minded.  O,  if  God  by  his  Spirit  did  not 
 prevent  me,  and  still  in  a  manner  force  me  to  keep  striving  al- 
 most against  my  will,  I  should  give  up  in  despair.  It  makes  no 
 difference — let  me  labor  ever  so  much,  and  feel  ever  so  lively 
 while  alone,  the  moment  I  go  into  the  pulpit,  or  a  conference 
 meeting,  I  am  as  dead  and  stupid  as  a  post,  and  have  no  realiz- 
 ing sense  of  divine  things.  The  meeting-house  is  the  grave 
 of  every  thing  good,  and  the  place  where  corruption  always 
 gets  the  mastery.  Sometimes  it  seems  impossible  that  it  should 
 be  so.  I  set  out  from  home  so  strong,  so  raised  above  the  world, 
 with  so  much  zeal  for  God,  and  so  much  compassion  for  poor, 
 perishing  sinners,  that  I  cannot  help  hoping  it  is  going  to  be 
 better  with  me.  But  the  moment  I  begin,  it  is  all  gone!  When 
 I  seem  to  be  much  engaged,  and  the  people  think  I  am  all  on 
 fire,  I  fear  that  God  sees  my  heart  like  a  mere  block  of  ice.  If 
 there  are  any  who  can  look  back  with  pleasure  on  a  life  well 
 spent,  I  can  hardly  hope  that  lam  a  Christian,  or  that  I  ever 
 shall  be  one;  for  never  shall  I  be  able  to  do  that.  Adieu,  my 
 dearest  parents:  do  continue  to  pray  for  me,  for  I  am  walking 
 on  ice,  or,  as  the  prophet  says,  '  in  slippery  places  in  darkness.' " 
 
 Mr.  Paysoa's  situation  was  at  this  time  truly  critical  and 
 
EDAVARD  PAYSON. 
 
 127 
 
 dangerous.  His  reception  as  a  preacher  was  flattering  almost 
 beyond  example.  Not  one  man  in  a  thousand  can  bear  human 
 applause  uninjured.  "  Wo  unto  you,"  said  Christ  to  his  disci- 
 ples, -'when  all  men  shall  speak  well  of  you."  The  most 
 dreadful  part  of  this  wo  is  that  which  falls  upon  one's  spiritual 
 interests.  Mr.  Payson  had  scarcely  been  six  weeks  in  Portland, 
 before  overtures  were  made  to  him,  by  each  of  the  three  Con- 
 gregational societies,  to  become  their  teacher;  and  there  was 
 also  a  plan  agitated  to  build  him  a  new  meeting-house.  Appli- 
 cations from  different  parishes  in  the  vicinity,  and  likewise  from 
 abroad,  were  frequent.  The  letters,  which  he  wrote  to  his 
 pareiits,  at  this  period,  contain  interesting  allusions  to  his  cir- 
 cumstances:— 
 
 "Portland,  Sept.  12,  1807. 
 "My  dearest  parents: — When  I  came  here,  I  could  not 
 help  indulging  a  secret  hope,  that  I  should  be  so  favored  as  to 
 see  some  happy  effects  resulting  from  it.  I  know  not,  however, 
 whether  it  arose  so  high  as  hope;  it  was,  perhaps,  rather  a  wish. 
 Whether  this  wish  will  in  any  degree  be  gratified,  is  at  present 
 uncertain.  The  people  seem  to  rouse  themselves  up,  and  stare, 
 and  hardly  know  what  to  make  of  it.  They,  however,  appear 
 to  exhibit  less  enmity  and  ill-will  than  I  expected.  Some  of 
 the  principal  men,  who  are  not  suspected  of  being  very  friendly 
 to  religion,  say,  as  I  am  informed,  that,  to  be  sure,  my  sermons 
 are  rather  hot,  but  they  are  convinced  no  other  kind  of  preaching 
 would  ever  do  any  good.  Others  say,  it  cuts  up  all  their  own 
 foundation,  and  all  their  hopes  of  heaven;  but  they  think  it  a 
 duty  to  support  these  doctrines,  because  they  are  true.  The 
 congregation  is  very  solemn  and  attentive;  but  I  dare  not  yet 
 hope  for  any  lasting  effects.  Some  are  displeased,  and  have 
 left  the  meeting;  but  there  are  three  come  from  other  meetings 
 for  one  who  goes  away.  The  power  of  novelty,  however,  is 
 great,  and  when  that  is  over,  I  expect  there  will  be  less  attention, 
 and  less  crowded  meetings." 
 
 *  *  *  * 
 
 "I  understand  there  is  quite  a  revival  of  religion  at  North 
 Yarmouth,  about  a  dozen  miles  from  this  place.  There  have 
 already  been  two  or  three  there,  and  they  seem  to  be  remarkalriv 
 favored.  One  memorable  instance,  which  has  lately  taken 
 place,  I  have  just  heard.    Three  females,  the  wives  of  three 
 
128 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 sea-captains  who  were  all  at  sea  in  different  parts  of  the  world, 
 were  deeply  impressed,  and,  after  severe  convictions,  obtained 
 comfort.  Just  about  the  same  time,  all  their  absent  husbands 
 were  converted  at  sea.  The  wives,  meanwhile,  were  anxious 
 for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  their  husbands,  and  the  husbands* 
 were  no  less  concerned  for  their  wives.  Judge  what  a  happy 
 meeting  they  must  have  had  when  they  foimd  what  God  had 
 done  for  each  other  during  their  separation.  The  attention  is 
 still  increasing,  and  there  haA-^e  been  about  thirty  added  to  the 
 church." 
 
 "  September  19. 
 
 "I  have  been  ill  a  week  of  influenza,  which  attacked  me  pretty 
 severely.  It  seems  as  if  it  was  sent  to  alford  a  fresh  opportunity 
 for  displaying  the  unwearied  care  and  kindness  of  our  heavenly 
 Father,  in  raising  up  friends  whenever  I  want  them.  In  this  case, 
 he  has  provided  me  a  nurse  and  a  mother  in  the  woman  who 
 presides  over  the  family  in  Mrs.  K's  absence.  She  has  been 
 doubting  respecting  her  state,  and  her  right  to  join  the  church 
 for  some  years;  and  was  so  thankful  because  I  conversed  with 
 her  on  these  subjects,  that  she  was  ready  to  kill  me  with  kind- 
 ness. In  addition  to  this,  I  have  been  overwhelmed  with 
 preserves,  jellies,  &o.  of  the  richest  kinds,  from  all  parts.  Some 
 have  sent  them  in,  from  whom  I  should  have  little  expected  it. 
 [t  seems  as  if  God  were  putting  it  to  trial,  whether  my  insensible 
 heart  can  be  wrought  upon  by  mercies.  1  fear  the  result  of  the 
 trial  will  be,  that  nothing  but  severe  judgments  will  answer. 
 
 '•  I  sometimes  think  it  strange,  that,  when  God  is  so  ready  to 
 bestow  mercies,  he  does  not  enable  us  to  receive  them  Avith  more 
 gratitude,  and  why  he  seems  less  ready  to  give  us  grace  to  con- 
 quer pride  and  self  Pra)'-  for  I'nc,  niy  dear  parents,  that  I  may 
 be  enabled  to  conquer  them." 
 
 "September  26. 
 "I  am,  and  have  been,  for  some  days,  in  a  great  dilemma. 
 Last  Monday,  I  had  an  application  to  preach  for  a  new  society 
 here,  which  Mr.  S.,  the  missionary,  has  lately  drawn  together. 
 They  are  building  a  meeting-house,  and  expect  to  be  incorporated 
 at  the  next  session  of  the  legislature.  They  have  heard  me  at 
 ]\Ir.  K's,  and  intimated  that,  if  I  would  come,  they  should  prob- 
 ably settle  me,  as  one  man  had  offered  a  hundred  pounds  to  the 
 society  on  that  condition,  and  thirty  more  had  offered  to  subscribe 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 129 
 
 for  Pews.  On  Tuesday  I  had  a  most  earnest  invi- 
 tation from  Westboro'  to  come  immediately,  and  another  from 
 Gorliam.  They  have  also  applied  to  me  to  come  to  Dr.  Deane's 
 parish,  and  preach  for  them ;  and  now,  this  morning,  Mr.  Kel- 
 logg has  a  letter  from  Portsmouth,  wishing  me  to  come  there 
 immediately.  On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  K.  insists  upon  it,  that  I 
 ought  to  stay  with  him  through  the  month  of  October.  There 
 seems  to  be  some  attention  excited,  and  two  persons  have  been 
 convinced,  and  I  hope  converted,  since  I  have  been  here.  It  is, 
 I  find,  Mr.  K.'s  plan,  if  I  should  prove  popular  enough,  to  have 
 a  new  society,  and  unite  it  with  his  own  in  such  a  manner,  as 
 to  have  one  parish  in  two  societies,  and  two  ministers  to  preach 
 in  each  house  alternately. 
 
 Now,  my  dear  parents,  what  shall  I  do 7  I  am  so  much 
 afraid  that  I  shall  be  left  to  lean  to  my  own  understanding,  that 
 I  have  no  comfort.  I  wish  to  go  to  Portsmouth,  because  it  is  on 
 my  way  home,  but  principally  because  the  society  there  is  in  a 
 bad  state,  and  in  great  danger  of  breaking  up  and  going  to  the 
 Universalists.  On  the  other  hand,  there  seems  to  be  a  door 
 opened  for  great  usefulness  here  ;  and  Providence  has,  in  some 
 measure,  owned  my  labors,  and  the  people  seem  very  anxious 
 to  have  me  stay.  If  one  could  only  hear  the  Spirit,  as  a  voice 
 behind  him,  saying,  'This  is  the  way,  walk  in  it,'  —  it  seems 
 duty  would  be  easily  discovered.  I  know  that  there  is  no  need 
 of  being  uneasy,  when  we  have  done  the  best  we  can  to  discov- 
 er the  path  of  duty;  but  there  is  so  much  self-seeking  in  every 
 thing  I  do,  that  I  cannot  be  sure  I  have  sincerely  sought  to  dis- 
 cover the  path  of  duty.  It  is  such  a  dreadful  thing  to  be  left  to 
 follow  one's  own  guidance.    My  dear  father,  do  write  to  me.'' 
 
 The  following  sentences  from  his  diary  will  be  regarded  as  a 
 curiosity  by  those  who  are  acquainted  with  Dr.  Payson's  emi- 
 nence as  a  ready  speaker:  — 
 
 "Sept.  25.  In  the  evening,  went  to  a  conference,  and  for  the 
 first  time  expounded  extempore.    Made  out  poorly." 
 
 His  rapidly  rising  fame,  and  the  flattering  attentions  paid  him 
 as  a  preacher,  injurious  as  they  can  hardly  fail  to  be,  did  not 
 divert  Mr.  Payson  from  the  great  object  of  the  ministry  of  rec- 
 onciliation. If  his  desire  for  personal  holiness  was  exceeded 
 by  any  other,  it  was  by  the  desire  of  the  salvation  of  sinners. 
 
 VOL.  I.  17 
 
130 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "Sept.  27.  Sab.  Was  favored  with  great  and  unusual  as- 
 sistance both  parts  of  the  day,  and  the  people  were  remarkably 
 serious  and  attentive.  Came  home  overwhelmed  with  a  sense 
 of  the  astonishing  goodness  of  God.  Felt  grateful,  humble,  and 
 contrite,  and  was  enabled  to  ascribe  all  the  glory  to  God.  In 
 the  evening,  was  favored  with  great  faith  and  fervency  in  prayer. 
 It  seemed  as  if  God  would  deny  me  nothing,  and  I  Avrestled  for 
 multitudes  of  souls,  and  could  not  help  hoping  there  would  be 
 some  revival  here. 
 
 "Sept.  28.  Found  that  my  labors  have  not  been  altogether 
 without  effect.  Was  favored  with  the  greatest  degree  of  free- 
 dom and  fervency  in  interceding  for  others.  I  seemed  to  travail 
 in  birth  with  poor  sinners,  and  could  not  help  hoping  that  God 
 is  about  to  do  something  for  his  glory  and  the  good  of  souls. 
 
 "Sept.  29.  Was  considerably  affected  with  a  view  of  the 
 awful  condition  of  sinners,  and  was  favored  with  some  freedom 
 in  praying  for  them.  I  know  not  what. to  think,  but  at  present 
 there  seem  to  be  some  indications  in  Providence,  that  this  is  to 
 be  my  station  in  the  vineyard.  I  desire  to  bless  God,  that  he 
 scarcely  suffers  me  either  to  hope  or  fear  the  event,  but  to  feel 
 resigned  to  whatever  he  may  appoint. 
 
 "  Sept.  30.  Felt  much  of  a  dependent,  confiding,  child-like 
 spirit.  God  is  doing  great  things  for  me.  I  never  enjoyed  such 
 a  season  before,  as  I  have  for  these  three  days  past.  My  heart 
 overflows  with  love  and  thankfulness  to  God  and  pity  for  poor 
 sinners. 
 
 "Oct.  4.  Went  to  meeting  Avith  more  of  a  solemn  frame 
 than  usual.  Was  greatly  assisted,  and  the  congregation  was 
 •apparently  very  solemn  and  devout.  Was  ready  to  sink,  to  see 
 how  easily  the  impression  seemed  to  wear  off. 
 
 "Oct.  7.  Visited  two  persons  under  conviction,  conversed 
 and  prayed  with  them.  Had  a  most  refreshing  season  in  secret 
 prayer.  Renewed  covenant  with  God.  My  soul  seemed  to 
 dilate  and  expand  with  happiness.  All  the  stores  of  divine 
 grace  were  opened,  and  I  took  freely  for  myself  and  others. 
 Was  assisted  to  plead  for  poor  sinners. 
 
 "Oct.  8.  Was  favored  with  clear  displays  of  the  divme 
 glory  this  morning,  and  was  enabled  to  rejoice  in  God  with  joy 
 unspeakable.  Felt  sweetly  humbled  and  resigned  to  every 
 thing  which  should  befall  me.    In  the  afternoon  preached  a 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON, 
 
 131 
 
 lecture,  and  was  left  dry  and  barren.  In  the  evening,  preached 
 another,  and  was  very  greatly  assisted.  Came  home  humbled 
 in  the  dust  under  some  stirrings  of  spiritual  pride,  which  I 
 could  not  repress.  Was  favored  with  a  most  refreshing  season 
 in  secret  prayer.  Felt  that  love  which  casteth  out  fear,  and 
 hung  on  the  bosom  of  my  God  with  inexpressible  pleasure. 
 The  Scriptures  too  were  exceedingly  sweet.  Had  been  in  some 
 perplexity  respecting  the  path  of  duty;  but  was  helped  to  roll 
 the  whole  burden  upon  Him. 
 
 "  Oct.  9.  Was  visited  by  a  minister  who  heard  me  preach 
 last  evening,  and  received  many  valuable  hints  from  him  re- 
 specting my  feelings  in  prayer  and  preaching. 
 
 "Oct.  11.  Never  was  in  such  an  agony  before  in  wrestling 
 for  mercies,  especially  in  behalf  of  poor  souls,  and  for  a  work 
 of  religion  in  this  place.  My  soul  seemed  as  if  it  would  leave 
 the  body,  and  mount  to  heaven  in  the  most  ardent  desires  for 
 their  salvation.  Went  by  invitation  to  spend  the  evening  in  an 
 irreligious  family.  Found  several  assembled,  and  to  my  very 
 great  but  pleasing  surprise,  the  conversation  took  a  very  serious, 
 religious  turn.  Came  home,  hoping  that  God  was  on  the  point 
 of  doing  something  in  this  place,  but  was  so  worn  out,  that  I 
 had  little  life  in  prayer. 
 
 '•Oct.  16.  Church  meeting — a  profitable  and  refreshing 
 time.  Some  new  persons  are  awakened;  Christians  are  stirred 
 up,  and  there  is  every  reason  to  hope  God  is  on  the  point  of 
 appearing  for  us. 
 
 "  Oct.  17.  Was  enabled,  in  some  measure,  to  mourn  over 
 my  pride  and  selfishness,  unbelief,  and  hardness  of  heart. 
 Having  last  evening  proposed  to  the  church  that  we  should 
 spend  an  hour  this  evening  in  prayer,  separately,  for  the  out- 
 pouring of  the  Spirit,  attempted  to  pray,  but  feared  my  motives 
 were  selfish.  However,  prayed  that  God's  people  might  not  be 
 ashamed  on  my  account. 
 
 "  Was  informed  that  the  church  and  congregation  had  given 
 me  a  unanimous  call.  I  know  not  what  Providence  intends  by 
 this.  Went  and  spread  the  matter  before  God,  and  entreated 
 him  to  overrule  all  things  to  his  own  glory, 
 
 "  Oct.  19.  Spent  the  whole  day  in  conversing  with  persons 
 exercised  in  their  minds.  In  the  evening,  visited  and  prayed 
 with  a  number  of  persons,  who  met  for  that  purpose. 
 
132 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "  Oct.  20.  Felt  something  of  the  constraining  influence  of 
 the  love  of  Christ.  For  some  nights  past,  have  been  laboring 
 in  my  sleep  with  poor  souls.  Felt  strong  in  the  Lord  and  in  the 
 power  of  his  might.  In  the  afternoon,  went  to  visit  two  persons 
 in  distress,  and  found  them  in  a  hopeful  way.  In  the  evening, 
 preached  a  lecture  extempore.  Was  not  much  assisted  myself, 
 but  what  was  said  seemed  to  come  with  power.  Many  were  in 
 tears,  and  all  seemed  stirred  up  ;  so  that,  though  I  went  crushed 
 down  under  discouragement,  I  came  back  rejoicing. 
 
 "  Oct.  22.  Began  to  feel  more  clear  respecting  my  compli- 
 ance with  the  call  I  have  received. 
 
 "  Oct.  23.  Was  left  to  murmur  and  feel  impatient,  and  my 
 proud,  imhumbled  heart  rose  against  God ;  but  he  was  gra- 
 ciously pleased  to  touch  my  heart,  and  bring  me  on  my  knees 
 before  him,  and  thus  I  obtained  pardon.  In  the  evening, 
 attended  a  conference,  and  preached.  Was  very  much  shut  up, 
 but  found  it  was  a  most  refreshing  season  to  many  of  God's 
 people,  so  that  I  was  astonished  to  see  how  God  could  work  by 
 the  most  feeble  means. 
 
 "  Oct.  24.  Went  to  visit  a  man  almost  in  despair.  He 
 talked  like  a  Christian,  but  was  in  dreadful  distress,  and 
 rejected  all  comfort.    Prayed  with  him,  but  in  vain. 
 
 "  Oct.  25.  Visited  and  prayed  with  a  sick  woman.  Found 
 her  and  her  husband  under  strong  convictions.  In  the  evening, 
 was  visited  by  persons  under  concern  of  mind,  and  conversed 
 with  them. 
 
 "  Oct.  27.  In  the  evening,  attended  a  conference,  and 
 preached  to  a  crowded  and  solemn  audience.  Saw  the  hand  of 
 God  evidently  appearing  in  it,  and  came  home  strengthened, 
 though  I  had  gone  much  cast  down. 
 
 "Oct.  28.  Felt  some  gratitude  and  humility  this  morning. 
 Wondered  how  God  could  choose  such  a  worthless  wretch  to 
 bestow  such  favors  upon.    Dined  with  a  lawyer,  and 
 
 had  much  religious  conversation  with  him,  with  which  he 
 seemed  much  affected.  In  the  evening,  met  a  number  who  were 
 under  serious  impressions.    Conversed  and  prayed  with  them. 
 
 "  Oct.  29.  Was  greatly  drawn  out  in  prayer  for  a  continu- 
 ance of  God's  presence,  and  for  myself  and  some  particular 
 friends.  Spent  the  day  in  visiting  a  number  of  persons  who 
 were  under  concern,  and  found  that  some  who  had  been  dear  to 
 
EDWAR  D    PA YSON. 
 
 133 
 
 my  heart,  and  who  I  could  hardly  hope  were  under  conviction, 
 appeared  to  have  met  with  a  real  change.  Was  overwhelmed 
 with  wonder,  love,  and  gratitude,  at  the  goodness  of  God ;  but, 
 as  an  olfset  to  this,  was  informed  of  some  injurious  observations, 
 and  was,  moreover,  harassed  and  almost  distracted  with  doubts 
 where  Providence  called  me  to  settle ;  but  was  able,  at  length, 
 to  cast  the  burden  upon  the  Lord." 
 
 On  the  30th  of  October,  he  set  out  on  a  journey  to  his  father's, 
 taking  Portsmouth  on  his  way,  where  he  preached  on  the  Sab- 
 bath, and  received  a  request  from  the  people  to  tarry  among 
 them,  which  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  decline.  He  reached  home 
 November  3,  and  spent  the  following  day  in  conversing  with  his 
 friends  :  — "  Consulted  them  respecting  my  call,  and  found  that 
 they  were  unanimous  in  advising  me  to  accept  the  call  of  Mr. 
 Kellogg' s  parish.    Rejoiced  to  see  my  path  made  plain  before  me. 
 
 "  Nov.  6.  Parted  from  my  friends  with  prayer,  and  set  out 
 for  Portsmouth  in  a  violent  storm,  which  continued  most  of  the 
 day.  Was  harassed  with  storms  within,  part  of  the  way,  but 
 afterwards  was  calm. 
 
 "  Nov.  8.  Was  favored  with  a  most  sweet,  refreshing  sea- 
 son, before  meeting,  in  secret  prayer.  Preached  three  times,  the 
 last  to  a  crowded  and  solemn  assembly.  Was  invited  to  stay 
 and  preach  on  probation,  but  was  obliged  to  decline. 
 
 "  Nov.  9.  Rode  to  Portland.  Was  favored  on  the  road  with 
 very  clear  manifestations  of  God's  love.  Felt  most  ardent  emo- 
 tions of  gratitude,  with  full  resolutions  to  devote  myself  to  the 
 service  of  God.  Was  overwhelmed  with  a  sense  of  his  mercies, 
 and  my  own  unworthiness. 
 
 "  Nov.  10,  Had  a  deep  sense  of  the  difficulty  and  importance 
 of  the  gospel  ministry,  and  of  my  own  utter  insufficiency  for  it. 
 Was  ready  to  sink  under  it,  till  in  some  measure  relieved  by  a 
 view  of  the  fulness  and  sufficiency  of  Christ.  Moses  and  Jere- 
 miah were  very  encouraging  examples. 
 
 "  Nov.  13.  In  the  evening,  attended  a  church  conference,  and 
 preached.  Divine  truth,  though  in  an  humble  garb,  came  with 
 great  power,  and  the  hearers  seemed  much  affected.  After  com- 
 ing home,  heard  of  some  difficulty,  made  by  one  of  the  church 
 
t 
 
 134  MEMOIR  OF 
 
 members,  respecting  the  baptismal  covenant,  which  I  wish  to 
 have  given  np.    Committed  the  case  to  God. 
 
 "  Nov.  15.  Preached  and  read  my  affirmative  answer  to  the 
 call.  Was  favored  with  liberty,  and  the  people  seemed  to  be 
 affected. 
 
 "  Nov.  17.  Visited  a  sick  man  ;  found  him  partly  deranged, 
 clasping  a  Bible  to  his  breast,  which  he  would  not  suffer  to  be 
 taken  from  him. 
 
 "  Nov.  30.  Very  unwell.  From  some  symptoms,  feel  appre- 
 hensive that  my  cough  may  terminate  in  a  consumption ;  but 
 the  thought  is  not  disagreeable.  The  only  thing  painful  about 
 it  is  the  pain  it  would  give  my  parents. 
 
 "  Dec.  1.  Had  a  sleepless,  painful  night,  but,  through  divine 
 goodness,  Avas  kept  patient,  and  even  cheerful.  Was  very  sick 
 in  the  morning. 
 
 "  Dec.  3.  Still  quite  unwell,  but  had  a  sight  of  my  necessi- 
 ties, and  was  helped  to  cry  out  for  assistance.  P.  M.  Had  a 
 sweet  season  in  prayer.  Could  pray  sincerely,  that  others  might 
 be  exalted  above  me  in  gifts  and  graces,  and  that  souls  might 
 be  converted,  let  who  would  be  the  instrument.  Felt  weaned 
 from  the  world,  and  resigned  to  whatever  might  befall  me. 
 
 "  Dec.  4.  Extremely  weak.  Am  convinced  that  I  cannot 
 live  many  years,  if  many  months.  Went  out  to  see  a  sick  per- 
 son, and  took  more  cold. 
 
 "  Dec.  7.  Rose  early ;  was  in  a  cloudy  kind  of  frame. 
 Visited  and  prayed  with  a  number  of  sick  people.  In  the  even- 
 ing, was  favored  with  a  deep  view  of  the  importance  and  mag- 
 nitude of  the  ministry,  and  had  much  freedom  in  crying  for 
 grace  to  help. 
 
 "  Dec.  9.  Tliough  I  have  less  sensible  comfort,  faith  seems  to 
 be  in  exercise,  and  I  will  still  trust  in  God,  though  he  slay  me. 
 
 "  Dec  10.    Was  seized  with  the  symptoms  of  a  fever. 
 
 "  Dec  11.  Begin  to  think  seriously  that  my  time  is  short. 
 My  lungs  appear  to  be  deeply  affected,  and  the  result  may  be 
 fatal. 
 
 "  Dec  12.  Had  a  melting  season  in  prayer  this  morning. 
 Felt  viler  than  the  vilest.  Spent  the  evening  with  my  father 
 vv^ho  came  to  attend  the  ordination. 
 
 "  Dec.  14.    My  body  and  mind  seemed  alike  weak  and  inca- 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 135 
 
 pable  of  exertion.  My  cough  increases  and  bids  fair  to 
 terminate  in  a  consumption. 
 
 "  Dec.  15.  Rose  extremely  unwell,  and  continued  so  during 
 the  day.  Could  do  nothing.  In  the  evening,  tried  to  pray, 
 but  was  soon  interrupted  by  weakness  and  lassitude. 
 
 "  Dec.  16.  Ordination.  Rose  very  early,  and  renewed  my 
 covenant  with  God,  taking  him  for  my  portion,  and  giving  my- 
 self up  to  him  for  the  work  of  the  Gospel  ministry.  Had 
 considerable  assistance  in  this,  and  in  seeking  ministerial  quali- 
 fications ;  but  my  strength  failed.  Felt  in  somethmgof  a  quiet, 
 happy,  dependent  frame  in  meeting,  especially  during  the 
 ordaining  prayer." 
 
 It  is  peculiarly  gratifying  to  peruse  such  a  record  as  this  last 
 paragraph  contains,  of  the  state  of  his  mind  on  this  most  solemn 
 and  eventful  occasion.  That  a  mind  so  highly  susceptible,  and 
 so  frequently  borne  down  to  the  very  dust  by  its  overwhelming 
 sense  of  ministerial  responsibility,  should  be  preserved  in  this 
 "  quiet,  happy,  dependent  frame,"  while  in  the  act  of  assuming 
 the  most  weighty  and  momentous  of  all  trusts  ever  committed  to 
 man, — of  consummating  that  sacred  connexion  which  was  to 
 affect  the  everlasting  weal  or  wo  of  numerous  undying  souls, — 
 can  be  ascribed  to  nothing  but  the  special  favor  of  God.  It 
 should  be  noticed  in  honor  of  His  faithfulness,  who  will  not 
 desert  his  devoted  servants  in  any  trying  emergency.  In  antic- 
 ipation of  this  crisis,  and  under  the  responsibilities  of  the  labors 
 which  were  conducting  him  to  it,  he  had  habitually  cast  his 
 burden  upon  the  Lord ;  and  by  the  Lord  was  that  burden  sus- 
 tained.   His  mind  was  kept  in  peace,  for  it  was  stayed  on  God. 
 
 "  A  man's  heart  deviseth  his  way,  but  the  Lord  directeth  his 
 steps."  Mr.  Payson  went  to  Portland  with  no  expectation, 
 probably,  of  making  that  his  permanent  residence,  but  merely 
 to  supply,  temporarily,  Mr.  Kellogg's  pulpit.  Mr.  K.,  undoubt- 
 edly, had  a  further  design  in  procuring  his  assistance,  even  from 
 the  first ;  but  its  accomplishment  was  suspended  on  circum- 
 stances yet  to  be  developed,  and  it  could  not,  therefore,  be  prop- 
 erly disclosed.  But  when,  on  experiment,  he  saw  the  young 
 preacher's  labors  so  well  received  by  the  people,  and  so  evi- 
 dently blessed,  he  spared  no  endeavors  to  retain  his  valuable 
 services,  which  he  showed  himself  willing  to  do  at  the  expense 
 of  any  reasonable  sacrifice. 
 
136 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 With  the  feelings,  and  principles,  and  rigid  self-discipline, 
 the  consciousness  of  human  guilt  and  weakness,  and  of  the 
 consequent  necessity  of  an  atonement,  and  a  divine  power  to 
 work  all  our  works  in  us  and  for  us,  which  are  to  be  recognised 
 in  the  extracts  that  have  been  given,  it  is  not  to  be  presumed 
 that  Mr.  Payson  would  show  much  indulgence  to  a  lax  theology, 
 which  degrades  the  Saviour,  and  flatters  man.  It  was  from 
 deep-rooted  principle,  that  he  could  not  hold  fellowship  with 
 such  doctrines,  and  that  he  abstained,  in  his  ministerial  inter- 
 course, from  all  official  acts,  which  would  be  interpreted  as  a 
 token  of  such  fellowship.  Hence  he  endured  no  small  share 
 of  obloquy,  for  wliich  those  of  a  different  faith  are  not  exclu- 
 sively responsible. 
 
 The  steadfastness  with  which  he  avoided  giving  the  least 
 countenance  to  what  he  regarded  as  "another  gospel,"  must  have 
 been  greatly  confirmed  by  the  exercises  at  his  ordination.  The 
 sermon  on  this  occasion,  preached  by  his  venerable  father,  was 
 founded  on  1  Tim.  v.  22, —  "Lay  hands  suddenly  on  no  man, 
 neither  be  partaker  of  other  men's  sins," — and  well  illustrated 
 the  apostle's  "caution  against  introducing  persons  suddenly  into 
 the  ministry,  and  the  reason  with  which  that  caution  is  en- 
 forced." Some  portions  of  it  seem  to  have  been  almost  pro- 
 phetic; they  show,  at  least,  that  the  author  was  "able  to  discern 
 the  signs  of  the  time."  The  paragraphs  containing  the  applica- 
 tion of  the  subject  to  his  son.  the  pastor  elect,  will  be  here 
 inserted.  Though  the  circumstatices  ni  which  they  were  uttered 
 were  suited  to  render  them  peculiarly  impressive,  they  will  be 
 found  to  possess  an  interest  and  importance  to  commend  them 
 to  general  attention,  independently  of  the  occasion. 
 
 "  In  fulfilling  his  purposes  of  mercy  to  our  apostate  race,  it 
 has  pleased  a  sovereign  God  to  constitute  an  order  of  men  to 
 preach  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ,  and  thus  toco-operate 
 with  himself  in  accomplishing  that  object,  upon  which  his 
 adorable  Son  came  into  our  world.  That  it  is  permitted  me  to 
 assist  in  introducing  you,  my  dear  son,  into  this  highly  favored 
 number,  as  a  fellow-worker  with  God  in  this  glorious  design,  is 
 an  act  of  his  grace,  for  which  I  hope  our  hearts  are  unitedly 
 adoring  his  sovereign  love.  How  astonishing  is  the  goodness 
 of  God  to  his  unworthy  creatures  !     How  great  the  honor  of 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 137 
 
 being  admitted  to  share  in  the  glory  of  that  vvorlc  which  is  all 
 his  own !  This,  however,  is  not  the  hour  of  triumph.  Your 
 feelings,  I  hope,  accord  with  that  maxinn  of  wisdonn  — '  Let  not 
 him  who  girdeth  on  tlie  harness  boast  himself  as  he  that  putteth 
 it  off.'  Under  the  wise  and  holy  government  of  God,  no  station 
 or  office  confers  honor,  but  in  connection  with  a  faithful  discharge 
 of  its  duties.  If  we  would  obtain  that  honor  which  cometh 
 from  God  only,  it  must  be  by  'patient  continuance  in  well 
 doing.'  The  glories  which  now  crown  the  human  nature  of 
 the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  were  won  in  the  field  of  battle.  They 
 are  the  just  reward  of  invincible  virtue  and  unexampled  benev- 
 olence. To  be  admitted  into  the  number  of  his  ministers,  is 
 honorable  for  this  reason  only,  that  we  are  thus  brought  into 
 the  field,  where  the  highest  honor  is  to  be  won;  where  all  the 
 virtuous  feelings  of  the  heart  have  full  play ;  and  where  an 
 opportunity  is  afforded  of  bringing  into  action  all  the  energies 
 of  the  soul,  in  a  service  most  intimately  connected  with  the 
 glory  of  God,  and  the  salvation  of  mankind.  In  this  distin- 
 guished station,  we  are  eminently  a  spectacle  to  the  world,  to 
 angels,  and  to  men. 
 
 "  Your  path  of  duty  is  made  plain  by  the  light  both  of  pre- 
 cept and  example.  Every  motive  which  can  influence  the  hu- 
 man mind  prompts  you  to  fidelity ;  and,  for  your  encourage- 
 ment to  go  boldly  forward  in  the  line  of  duty,  almighty  love 
 opens  its  inexhaustible  stores  of  wisdom,  grace,  and  strength, 
 inviting  you  to  draw  near  and  receive  according  to  your  neces- 
 sities. The  object  of  the  observations,  which  have  now  been 
 made,  is  to  impress  you  Avith  a  sense  of  the  importance  of  in- 
 vestigating, so  far  as  human  imperfection  Avill  admit,  the  charac- 
 ters and  qualifications  of  candidates  for  the  ministerial  office. 
 To  me  this  subject  appears  of  vast,  and,  from  the  character  of 
 the  age  in  which  we  live,  of  increasing  importance.  It  is  far 
 from  being  my  wish  to  see  you  contending  for  particular  forms 
 of  expressing  divine  truth,  or  zealously  engaged  in  supporting 
 points,  respecting  which,  through  remaining  imperfection,  wise 
 and  good  men  are  divided.  This  is  far  beneath  the  dignified 
 object,  which  ought  to  engage  the  attention  of  the  Christian 
 minister.  But,  if  my  most  earnest  entreaties,  if  a  father's 
 solemn  charge,  have  any  influence,  nevur  will  you  be  induced  to 
 employ  the  powers  of  ordination,  with  which  you  are  now  to  be 
 
 VOL.  I.  18 
 
138 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 invested,  in  raising  the  enemies  of  God  and  his  truth  to  the  per- 
 nicious eminence  of  teachers  in  the  Ciiristian  church.  In  pursu- 
 ing this  leading  object,  it  has  been  my  aim  to  present  to  your 
 mind  the  distinguishing  characteristics  of  the  pastor  after  God's 
 own  Iieart.  I  hope  no  earthly  attainment  appears  in  your  view 
 so  desirable  as  that  meekness  and  faithfulness,  that  superiority 
 to  selfish  views,  and  those  fervent,  holy,  disinterested  affections, 
 of  which  a  sketch  has  now  been  exhibited.  May  they  ever  be 
 the  sole  objects  of  your  ambition,  and  be  pursued  with  all  that 
 ardor,  activity,  diligence,  and  perseverance,  wiih  which  the 
 children  of  this  world  pursue  its  pleasures,  its  honors,  and 
 wealth. 
 
 "  In  laboring  to  form  your  mind  to  ministerial  fidelity,  may 
 I  not  liope  for  some  assistance  from  that  active  principle  of  filial 
 affection,  which  has  ever  rendered  you  studious  of  a  father's 
 comfort  7  I  can  think  with  calmness,  nay,  with  a  degree  of 
 pleasure,  of  your  suffering  for  righteousness'  sake  ;  and,  should 
 the  world  pour  upon  you  its  obloquy,  its  scorn  and  reproach,  for 
 your  fidelity  to  your  Master's  cause,  a  father's  heart  would  still 
 embrace  you  with,  if  possible,  increased  fondness.  But  to  see 
 you  losing  sight  of  the  great  objects  which  ought  to  engage  your 
 attention,  courting  the  applause  of  the  world,  infected  with  the 
 infidel  sentiments  of  the  day,  and  neglecting  the  immortal  inter- 
 ests of  those  now  about  to  be  committed  to  your  care  ; — this,  O 
 my  son,  I  could  not  support.  It  would  bring  down  my  gray 
 hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave.  But  is  it  possible,  that  in  such 
 a  cause,  with  such  motives  to  fidelity,  and  with  prospects,  may 
 I  not  add,  so  peculiarly  pleasing  as  those  which  now  surround 
 you,  you  should,  notwithstanding,  prove  unfaithful  7  It  is  pos- 
 sible ;  for  there  is  nothing  too  base,  too  ungrateful,  or  destruc- 
 tive of  our  own  most  important  interests,  for  human  nature  to 
 commit;  and,  unless  the  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus  preserve  you, 
 the  glory  of  God  will  be  forgotten,  your  Saviour  will  by  you  be 
 crucified  afresh,  and  his  cause  exposed  to  shame ;  your  sacred 
 character  will  become  your  reproach,  and,  instead  of  the  bless- 
 ings of  many  ready  to  perish,  you  will  accumulate  the  curses  of 
 perishing  souls  upon  your  head.  May  your  preservation  from 
 this  awful  fate  be  the  theme  of  our  future  eternal  praises. 
 
 "  Contemplating  the  sublimity  of  the  apostolic  pattern,  do  you 
 ask,  How  shall  I  attain  to  such  activity,  such  zeal,  such  purity, 
 
ED WAKD    PA  YSON. 
 
 such  disinterestedness,  and  ardor  of  affection  ?  Reniember  Paul 
 Avas  nothing.  He  himself  makes  the  confession.  '  It  is  not  I,' 
 says  he,  '  that  live,  but  Christ,  that  liveth  in  me ;  and  the  life 
 which  I  now  live  in  the  flesh,  I  live  by  faith  on  the  Son  of  G'od.* 
 Thus  you  may  live ;  thus  you  may  come  off  more  than  a  con- 
 queror, and,  though  in  yourself  but  a  worm,  may  thresh  the 
 mountains  of  opposition,  and  beat  them  small  as  the  dust. 
 Should  the  blessed  Redeemer  grant — and  grant  he  will,  if  you 
 seek  them  —  the  influences  of  his  Spirit,  your  happy  soul  will 
 mount  up  as  on  eagles'  wings,  and  rise  to  all  those  heights  of 
 holy  affection,  to  which  the  great  apostle  soared.  But  1  must 
 set  bounds  to  the  effusion  of  feelings,  which  have,  perhaps, 
 already  exhausted  the  patience  of  this  assembly.  Receive,  my 
 dear  son,  in  one  word,  the  sum  of  all  a  father's  fond  wishes 
 '  Be  thou  faithful  unto  death.'  " 
 
CHAPTER  VIII. 
 
 His  concern  for  his  flock.    Reverse  in  his  temporal  prospects.    Is  taken  from 
 liis  work  by  sickness. 
 
 The  wisdom  of  God  shines  with  most  amiable  histie  in  the 
 institutions  of  reUgion.  The  inteUigent  and  devout  observer 
 sees  in  them  evident  traces  of  a  divine  original.  They  were  or- 
 dained by  him  who  "  knew  what  was  in  man,"  and  recognise 
 most  advantageously  the  leading  principles  of  human  nature. 
 They  have  multiplied  the  relations  which  subsist  among  men, 
 as  social  beings,  and  given  to  social  qualities  an  incalculable 
 value.  They  cement  every  tie  which  binds  man  to  his  fellow, 
 and  sweeten  the  enjoyments  of  every  connexion.  They  heighten 
 all  the  endearments  of  domestic  life,  and  are  designed  and 
 adapted  to  bring  all  mankind  into  one  harmonious  and  happy 
 family.  Though  they  do  not  obliterate  the  distinctions  of  rank 
 and  office,  and  especially  that  of  a  teacher,  they  instruct  "  the 
 head  not  to  say  to  the  foot,  I  have  no  need  of  thee."  In  the 
 church  of  Christ,  the  most  closely  compacted  and  endearing 
 brotherhood  which  exists  on  earih.  a  common,  fraternal  affec- 
 tion is  reciprocated  by  its  members — an  affection  growing  out 
 of,  and  continually  cherished  by,  their  mutual  dependence,  their 
 common  wants,  and  the  sameness  of  their  relation  to  their 
 Maker  and  Redeemer.  In  addition  to  this,  there  is,  in  this 
 blood-bought  and  sacred  society,  the  relation  of  pastor  and  flock, 
 which  swells  the  aggregate  of  benefit  received  and  of  happiness 
 enjoyed,  in  proportion  to  the  numbers  included  in  it.  And 
 when  this  relation  is  entered  into  from  evangelical  motives,  and 
 with  a  right  spirit,  a  gushing  forth  of  the  afiections  is  felt,  which 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 141 
 
 was  never  felt  before  —  a  well-spring  is  opened,  which  time  can- 
 not dry  up,  and  which  renders  the  pastor's  labor  and  toil,  for 
 the  salvation  of  his  charge,  his  choice  and  his  felicity.  Mr. 
 Payson  had  already  exhibited  an  interest  in  the  welfare  of  souls, 
 and  a  desire  for  their  salvation,  so  great  as  to  seem  almost  inca- 
 pable of  increase  ;  but,  as  soon  as  the  pastoral  relation  was  con- 
 summated, he  regarded  those  committed  to  his  oversight  with 
 an  appropriating,  an  endearing  love,  which  identified  their  inter- 
 ests and  happiness  with  his  own. 
 
 Dec.  17.  Was  favored  with  freedom  and  assistance  in 
 writing  and  prayer,  and  felt  a  strong  love  for  the  people  of  my 
 charge.  In  the  evening,  attended  a  meeting  of  those  who  are 
 under  concern,  and  had  some  assistance. 
 
 "  Dec.  18.  Felt  in  a  sweet,  dependent  frame,  and  had  liberty 
 to  cast  myself  and  parish  upon  God. 
 
 "  Dec.  19.  Awoke  twice,  after  a  day  of  excessive  fatigue, 
 drenched  in  a  profuse  sweat,  and  concluded  that  my  time  was 
 short. 
 
 "  Dec.  20.  Sabbath.  Extremely  weak.  Felt  as  if  1  could 
 not  preach.  In  the  afternoon,  preached  an  occasional  sermon, 
 and  was  wonderfully  carried  through.    Blessed  be  God. 
 
 "  Dec  21.  Had  a  sweet  season  in  prayer.  My  soul  felt 
 strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power  of  his  might.  I  longed  to 
 spend  and  be  spent  in  his  service,  and  wondered  at  his  aston- 
 ishing goodness  to  such  an  unworthy  wretch.  Spent  the  whole 
 day  in  visiting,  with  some  profit  and  pleasure.  In  the  evening, 
 talked  to  a  number  of  people  on  the  nature  of  religion.  After 
 returning,  found  myself  much  exhausted.  Feel  convinced 
 that  I  am  in  a  consumption,  and  may  as  well  die  as  cease  my 
 exertions." 
 
 His  illness  continued  severe  for  several  days,  so  that  he  was 
 directed  by  his  physician  to  keep  within.  He  enjoyed,  on  the 
 whole,  much  quietness  and  resignation,  but  says,  "  I  longed  to 
 bo  abroad  among  my  people."  Dec.  26,  ten  days  after  his  ordi- 
 nation, he  expectorated  blood,  and  "  viewed  it  as  his  death- 
 warrant,  but  felt  tolerably  calm  and  resigned."  Three  days 
 later,  however,  he  is  found  preaching  an  evening  lecture. 
 
 The  calamities  occasioned  by  the  aggressions  of  foreign 
 
142 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 belligerents,  and  by  the  restrictions  imposed  on  commerce  by 
 our  own  government,  fell  at  this  time  with  peculiar  weight  upon 
 the  inhabitants  of  Portland.  The  darkest  season  through  which 
 the  United  States  have  passed  since  their  independence,  had  now- 
 commenced.  The  distresses  of  the  times  are  the  subject  of  fre- 
 quent allusion  by  Mr.  Payson  in  his  diary.  The  stagnation  of 
 business,  the  failures  among  the  principal  merchants,  the  hun- 
 dreds of  citizens  and  seamen  thrown  out  of  employment,  and 
 left  destitute  of  the  means  of  subsistence,  and  the  sufferings  of 
 the  poor,  called  forth  largely  his  sympathy.  To  him,  the  town 
 seemed  threatened  with  universal  bankruptcy ;  and,  whether 
 with  good  reason  or  not,  he  considered  the  means  of  his  own 
 temporal  support  as  cut  off.  But  the  tranquillity  of  his  mind 
 was  never  more  uniform  than  at  this  calamitous  season;  and 
 the  object  of  his  supreme  desire  and  efforts  was  to  turn  the  dis- 
 tresses of  the  people  to  their  spiritual  advantage,  rightly  judging, 
 that  "  the  walls  of  Jerusalem  might  be  built  in  troublous 
 times."  A  picture  of  these  distresses,  as  they  appeared  to  him 
 at  the  time,  is  drawn  in  a  letter  to  his  parents,  dated 
 
 "  Portland,  Dec.  28,  1807. 
 "  When  father  Avas  here,  he  observed  that  my  prospects  were 
 almost  too  happy  for  this  world.  They  were  so,  it  appears  ;  for 
 they  are  now  as  imfavorable,  humanly  speaking,  as  they  were 
 then  flattering.  The  prospect  of  war  has  produced  here  such  a 
 scene  of  wretchedness  as  I  never  before  witnessed.  A  large 
 number  of  the  most  wealtliy  merchants  have  already  failed,  and 
 numbers  more  are  daily  following,  so  that  we  are  threatened  with 
 universal  bankruptcy.  Two  failures  alone  have  thrown  at  least 
 three  hundred  persons,  besides  sailors,  out  of  employ ;  and  you 
 may  hence  conceive,  in  some  measure,  the  distress  which  the 
 whole  number  must  occasion.  The  poor-house  is  already  full, 
 and  hundreds  are  yet  to  be  provided  for,  who  have  depended  on 
 their  own  labor  for  daily  bread,  and  who  have  neither  the  means 
 of  supporting  themselves  here,  nor  of  removing  into  the  country. 
 Many,  who  have  been  brought  up  in  affluence,  are  now  depend- 
 ent on  the  cold  courtesy  of  creditors  for  a  protection  from  the 
 inclemency  of  the  season.  These  things,  however,  are  but  the 
 beginning  of  sorrows.  As  soon  as  the  news  of  these  failures 
 reach  ,  every  man  there,  who  has  a  hundred  dollars  owing 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 to  him  in  Portland,  will  send  down  to  secure  it ;  and  the  general 
 stagnation  of  business  is  such,  that  a  man  who  is  possessed  of 
 ten  thousand  dollars,  in  real  or  personal  estate,  may  not  be  able 
 to  answer  a  demand  of  five  hundred,  though  it  were  to  save  him 
 from  ruin.  If  these  times  continue,  nine  tenths  of  the  people 
 here  will  be  scattered  to  the  four  winds.  I  have  scarcely  a  hope 
 of  receiving  more  than  enough  to  pay  my  board,  if  I  should  stay 
 till  next  spring ;  and  Mr.  K.  will  want  all  his  salary  to  support 
 himself,  as  he  fears  that  all  his  property  is  swallowed  up  in  the 
 general  destruction.  These  failures  have  brought  to  light  many 
 instances  of  dishonesty  among  those  in  whose  integrity  un- 
 bounded confidence  was  placed.  And  now  all  confidence  is 
 lost ;  no  man  will  trust  his  neighbor  ;  but  every  one  takes  even 
 his  brother  '  by  the  throat,  saying.  Pay  me  that  thou  owest.' 
 But  I  cannot  describe,  and  I  doubt  whether  you  can  conceive, 
 of  the  distress  we  are  in. 
 
 "  And  now  you  will,  perhaps,  be  grieved  at  this  sudden  blast 
 of  all  my  fine  prospects,  and  cry,  '  Poor  Edward !'  But  you 
 never  had  more  reason  to  rejoice  on  my  behalf,  and  to  cry, 
 '  Rich  Edward  !'  than  now ;  for,  blessed  be  God,  my  portion 
 does  not  stand  on  such  tottering  foundations  as  to  be  shaken  by 
 these  commotions.  My  dear  parents,  my  dear  sister,  do  not  feel 
 one  emotion  of  sorrow  on  my  account,  but  rather  join  with  me 
 in  blessing  God  that  he  keeps  me  quiet,  resigned,  and  even 
 happy,  in  the  midst  of  these  troubles.  I  do  not  pretend  not  to 
 feel  them,  however.  All  my  worldly  hopes  are,  apparently,  de- 
 stroyed ;  and  many  of  those  who  are  now  ready  to  be  turned 
 into  the  streets  are  the  dearest  friends  I  have  here ;  not  to  men- 
 tion the  distress  of  the  poor,  who  will,  in  human  probability, 
 soon  be  in  a  starving  condition.  In  these  circumstances,  it  is 
 impossible  not  to  feel.  Still,  if  God  is  pleased  to  afford  me  the 
 same  degree  of  support  which  he  has  hitherto,  I  shall  be  more 
 happy  than  ever  I  was.  I  thought  I  knew,  before,  that  this 
 world  was  treacherous,  and  its  enjoyments  transitory  ;  but  these 
 things  have  taught  me  this  truth  so  much  plainer,  and  weaned 
 me  so  much  more  from  creature  dependences,  that  1  desire  to 
 consider  them  among  my  chief  mercies.  It  has  long  been  my 
 prayer,  that  if  God  had  any  worldly  blessings  in  store  for  me, 
 he  would  be  pleased  to  give  me  grace  instead  of  them,  or  change 
 them  into  spiritual  blessings ;  and  now  he  begins  to  grant  my 
 
144 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 request.  I  am  sorry  for  H.'s  disappointment,  and  my  own  ma- 
 bility  to  assist  pa'  out  of  his  difficulties,  which  I  once  hoped  J 
 should  be  able  to  do.  But  I  trust  they  will  be  sanctified,  if  they 
 are  not  removed.  What  a  blessed  portion  the  believer  has  in 
 the  word  of  God,  if  he  has  only  a  hand  given  him  to  lay  hold 
 on  it !  But  too  often  our  hands  are  withered,  and  heed  not  the 
 divine  command  to  stretch  them  out. 
 
 "  I  tremble  for  our  poor  country.  I  fear  the  decree  has  gone 
 out  against  her.  My  sins  have  helped  to  call  down  judgments 
 upon  her,  and  I  desire  to  take  what  falls  to  my  share,  and  bless 
 God  that  my  punishment  is  no  heavier,  and  no  more  propor- 
 tioned to  my  deserts.  But  nothing  seems  too  bad  to  expect  from 
 present  appearances.    If  we  escape  civil  war,  it  will  be  well. 
 
 "January  5,  1808. 
 
  "I  would  not  finish  my  letter  before,  because  I  could  say 
 
 nothing  favorable  respecting  my  health,  which  was  then  worse 
 than  ever,  but,  blessed  be  God,  seems  now  unaccountably  re- 
 stored. The  tumult  in  town  has  subsided  into  a  dead  calm;  the 
 embargo  has  put  a  stop  to  every  thing  like  business,  and  people 
 have  now  nothing  to  do  but  attend  to  religion;  and  we  endeavor 
 to  give  them  meetings  enough,  since  they  have  leisure  to  attend 
 them.  Next  week,  we  purpose  to  keep  a  town  fast,  on  account 
 of  our  distressed  situation.  I  am  not  without  hopes  that  these 
 things  may  be  overruled  to  bring  about  a  more  extensive  refor- 
 mation. The  attention  appears  to  continue,  and  we  hear  of  new 
 instances  of  persons  under  concern.  Feel  no  uneasiness  respect- 
 ing me.  The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd;  I  shall  not  Avant.  The 
 people  are  very  kind,  increasingly  so.  Some  of  our  young  con- 
 verts have  lost  their  all,  and  had  their  houses  stripped;  and  it 
 does  my  heart  good  to  see  them  cheerful  and  quiet  under  it; 
 while  others,  who  have  no  God,  have  lost  their  reason,  or, 
 worried  almost  incessantly,  are  apparently  dying  of  a  broken 
 heart,  or  uttering  the  most  bitter  and  distressing  complaints. 
 But  it  is  a  heart-rending  sight  to  see  those  who  have  no  other 
 portion  stripped  naked  of  all  worldly  good.  Their  gods  are 
 taken  away,  and  what  have  they  more  ?" 
 
 "  Jan.  5.  I  find  myself,  from  day  to  day,  in  the  situation  of  a 
 poor  beggar,  with  nothing  to  plead  but  my  necessities.    In  the 
 
EDWARD    PAY  SON. 
 
 145 
 
 evening,  preached  to  a  serioiis  audience,  and  was  greatly  en- 
 couraged to  liope  for  a  reformation  more  general.  Was  much 
 drawn  out  in  prayer,  both  at  meeting  and  after  1  came  home. 
 
 "  Jan.  6.  Hope  that  God  is  quiclceiiing  me  to  run  the  way  of 
 his  commandments  with  a  more  enlarged  heart. 
 
 "Jan.  10.  Preached,  and  baptized  seven  persons,  and  ad- 
 ministered the  sacrament.  Felt  entirely  exhausted.  My  con- 
 stitution seems  to  be  much  broken,  and  a  little  labor  v/ears 
 me  out. 
 
 "  Jan.  13.  This  day  was  devoted  to  fasting  and  prayer,  by 
 the  town,  on  account  of  the  present  gloomy  appearances. 
 
 "  Jan.  14.  Hope  the  strong  workings  of  corruption  I  have  ex- 
 perienced will  make  me  more  humble,  and  the  gracious  pardon 
 I  have  received,  more  thankful. 
 
 "  Jan.  17.  Sabbath.  Was  alarmed  by  cry  of  fire  during 
 family  prayer.  It  did  considerable  damage,  but,  by  God's  good- 
 ness, was  got  under,  though  the  town  was  in  imminent  danger. 
 Was  much  assisted  in  seeking  a  divine  blessing  on  all  our 
 afflictions.  Had  no  meeting  in  the  forenoon.  In  the  afternoon, 
 preached  with  some  liberty. 
 
 "  Jan.  22.  In  the  evening,  preached,  and  was  much  re- 
 freshed and  strengthened  in  my  own  soul.  Found  the  Lord's 
 work  is  going  on.  O  what  shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord  for  ali 
 his  benefits. 
 
 "  Jan.  24.  Sabbath.  Was  favored  with  a  sweet  season 
 in  pleading  for  the  divine  presence.  Hoped  that  God  would 
 make  this  a  day  of  his  power  and  grace.  Was  greatly 
 assisted.  Have  lately  been  favored  with  more  love  to  God,  and 
 zeal  for  Christ,  than  I  used  to  have,  and  feel  more  compassion 
 for  sinners. 
 
 "  Jan.  25.  Seem  to  have  some  respite  from  the  workings 
 of  corruption.  Spent  the  day  in  visiting  my  people,  and  found 
 many  somewhat  exercised.  In  the  evening,  attended  a  confer- 
 ence with  inquirers.  Found  some  new  cases,  and  had  a  pleas- 
 ant evening. 
 
 "  Jan.  26.  Felt  eager  desires  to  be  wholly  conformed  to 
 ('hrist,  and  to  be  carried  away  with  the  constraining  influence 
 of  his  love. 
 
 "  Feb.  4.    Was  overwhelmed  with  wonder,  shame,  and  con- 
 
 VOL.  I.  19 
 
146 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 fusion,  to  reflect  on  the  innumerable  mercies  I  had  received, 
 and  the  ungrateful  returns  I  had  made.  In  the  afternoon, 
 preached  at  the  poor-house,  and  found  some  of  them  much 
 alfected." 
 
 Soon  after  this,  he  was  seized  with  a  violent  pleuritic  affec- 
 tion, which  rendered  speaking  a  most  painful  and  difficult  exer- 
 cise. The  pain  continued  for  some  length  of  time,  attended  by 
 various  discouraging  symptoms.  He  did  not  neglect  to  call  in 
 medical  aid  ;  and  the  prescriptions  of  physicians  were  partially 
 blessed.  But  the  moment  he  felt  a  little  relieved,  he  would  re- 
 sume his  labors,  "  go  to  a  conference,  take  more  cold,  and  come 
 home  much  worse."  Repeatedly  during  this  illness,  when  he 
 was  necessarily  confined  to  his  room,  he  enters  a  notice  of  this 
 kind  —  "  Spent  almost  the  whole  day  in  conversing  with  persons 
 who  were  exercised  with  spiritual  trials;"  and  every  such  day 
 was  one  of  great  fatigue,  at  the  close  of  which,  "  all  his  alarm- 
 ing symptoms  would  return  with  great  violence."  When  his 
 conversation  Avith  inquirers  was  not  prolonged  to  weariness,  it 
 proved  "  refreshing  to  his  spirits."  Though  he  found  it  "  trying 
 to  be  laid  aside  as  a  broken  vessel,  when  the  people  were  wil- 
 ling to  hear,"  he  could  still  bless  God  for  sweet  resignation  to 
 the  divine  will.  "  Could  not  feel  a  wish  respecting  the  continu- 
 ance of  my  life;  but  had  God  referred  the  matter  to  me,  I 
 should  refer  it  back  again  to  him.  My  only  wish  was — if  I 
 lived  —  to  live  unto  the  Lord;  and,  if  I  died,  to  die  unto  the 
 Lord." 
 
 In  the  latter  part  of  February,  his  physician  found  it  neces- 
 sary to  forbid  his  preaching  for  several  Sabbaths  to  come,  and 
 was  in  a  measure  successful  in  enforcing  the  prohibition,  as  his 
 patient  does  not  appear  to  have  gone  out  to  any  religious  meet- 
 ing for  more  than  a  fortnight,  when  he  ventured  to  ''attend  a 
 conference  with  those  under  concern,  where  he  found  several 
 new  inquirers,  and  was  carried  through  beyond  expectation." 
 But  the  exposure  was  followed  by  a  dangerous  relapse,  so  that 
 he  thought  his  "  health  irrecoverably  gone."  He  expresses  no 
 "grief"  on  this  account,  except  as  it  "disabled  him  from 
 attending  meeting  with  those  under  concern."  But  the  reader 
 will  prefer  to  learn  his  feelings  and  circumstances  from  his  own 
 words : — 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 147 
 
 "  March  26.  Had  an  exceedingly  painful  night,  worse  than 
 ever,  but  had  some  satisfaction  in  thinking  of  going  to  be  with 
 Christ.  In  the  evening,  was  extremely  unwell,  and  suffered 
 great  pain. 
 
 "  March  27.  Sabbath.  In  the  morning,  was  very  ill ;  but 
 was  carried  to  meeting  in  the  afternoon,  though  I  could  not 
 preach.  Was  too  weak  to  have  much  comfort  at  meeting,  and 
 came  home  very  low  spirited. 
 
 March  28.  Am  pretty  well  convinced  that  my  disease  is 
 mortal.  My  mind  partakes  so  much  of  the  weakness  of  my 
 body,  that  I  can  do  nothing  in  religion,  and  can  scarcely  refrain 
 from  peevishness  and  fretting. 
 
 "  March  30.  Had  a  most  sweet  and  refreshing  season  in  se- 
 cret prayer  this  morning.  Felt  more  ardent  love  to  Christ  than 
 I  have  for  some  time,  and  was  sweetly  melted  under  a  sense  of 
 my  ingratitude.  Was  resigned  to  his  will  respecting  me,  and 
 was  willing  to  depart  and  be  with  him. 
 
 "  April  2.  Conversed  with  some  persons,  who  came  in  to  see 
 me.  res])ecting  means  to  be  taken  for  the  suppression  of  profanity 
 and  Sabbath  breakmg. 
 
 "  April  3.  Sabbath.  Was  able  to  attend  meeting  and  preach 
 part  of  the  day.  Was  favored  with  some  liberty  at  the  sacra- 
 ment, and  had  .some  foretaste  of  heaven,  and  desire  to  enjoy  it. 
 Am  much  afraid  the  reformation  is  going  off.  Was  assisted  to 
 pray  that  the  work  might  go  on,  and  also  in  praying  for  myself, 
 so  that  I  hope  the  Lord  has  been  pleased  to  strengthen  me  on 
 this  occasion. 
 
 "  April  4.  Had  unusual  earnestness  in  prayer  this  morning, 
 both  for  myself  and  others,  and  was  sweetly  melted  in  reading 
 the  divine  word.  Was  depressed  by  finding  that  the  town 
 woidd  do  nothing  respecting  the  observance  of  the  Sabbath. 
 Was  enabled  to  pour  out  my  sorrows  and  complaints  before  God 
 with  some  degree  of  freedom. 
 
 "  April  7.  This  day  being  our  annual  fast,  I  endeavored  to 
 humble  myself  before  God  for  my  personal  sins,  as  well  as  our 
 public  transgressions,  to  renew  covenant  with  God,  and  devote 
 myself  with  new  zeal  to  his  service.  Was  likewise  assisted  in 
 pleading  with  God  for  more  grace,  and  life,  and  light,  in  my  own 
 soul,  and  in  the  souls  of  my  people ;  and  that  the  reformation 
 which  has  begun  may  be  carried  on  gloriously  and  triumphantly 
 
148 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 among  us.  In  the  morning,  attended  meeting,  and  heard  a 
 most  excellent  sermon  from  Mr.  K.  In  the  afternoon,  preached 
 ■with  some  degree  of  assistance. 
 
 "  April  8.  Had  a  very  uncomfortable  night,  but  was  sweetly 
 refreshed  and  strengthened  in  secret  prayer  this  morning.  It  is 
 long  since  I  have  found  so  much  of  the  divine  presence.  ^Vas 
 much  assisted  in  praying  for  a  revival  of  religion,  and  cannot 
 but  hope  God  will  yet  bless  us  still  more  abundantly. 
 
 "  April  9.  Was  employed  most  of  the  day  in  visiting.  Was 
 troubled  with  some  who  wished  to  join  the  church  without  be- 
 ing qualified. 
 
 "  April  14.  Attended  a  conference  for  those  under  concern, 
 and  was  refreshed  to  see  a  goodly  number,  and  to  trace  the 
 operations  of  the  divine  Spirit  upon  their  minds. 
 
 "  April  15.  Was  so  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  vileness,  that 
 it  seemed  impossible  for  me  to  come  ;  and  had  such  a  sight  of 
 God's  goodness,  that  it  was  impossible  for  me  not  to  come. 
 
 "  April  19.  O,  how  sweet  and  refreshing  it  is  to  get  above 
 the  load  of  sins,  sorrows,  and  corruptions,  which  oppress  us,  and 
 taste  a  little  of  communion  with  God ! 
 
 "  April  20.  Was  strengthened  with  all  might  in  the  inner 
 man,  and  enabled  to  renew  covenant  with  God  with  great  joy 
 and  sincerity. 
 
 "  April  21.  I  have  long  been  in  a  lethargy,  but  I  trust  God 
 IS  now  bringing  me  out  of  it.  Find  great  and  unusual  sweet- 
 ness in  the  Bible,  of  late,  for  which  I  have  long  been  praying ; 
 and  likewise  a  deeper  sense  of  the  importance  of  time,  —  another 
 blessing  for  which  I  have  long  been  seeking.  The  enemy,  tak- 
 ing advantage  oi  my  great  weakness,  threw  me  into  a  most 
 sinful  frame  of  mind ;  but,  on  application  to  him  who  stills  the 
 waves,  the  tiunult  of  my  mind  was  stilled,  and  there  was  a 
 great  calm. 
 
 "  April  22.  Was  favored  with  some  inlense  hungerings  and 
 thirstings  after  righteousness.  Was  led  to  believe,  from  certain 
 circumstances,  that  my  case  was  almost  desperate,  but  felt  most 
 sweetly  resigned.  My  only  wish  was  that  God  might  be  glori- 
 fied, either  by  my  life  or  death. 
 
 "  April  23.  Was  assisted  in  prayer  through  the  day.  My 
 heart  seemed  ready  to  break  with  its  longings  after  holiness. 
 Found  unusual  sweetness  in  reading  the  Scriptures.    Am  much 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 149 
 
 encouraged  by  the  Lord's  unusual  goodness  to  me,  that  he  is 
 about  to  carry  on  his  worl<  still  more  gloriously  in  this  place. 
 
 "  April  25.  Was  constrained  to  feel  the  truth  of  our  Lord's 
 declaration,  '  Without  me  ye  can  do  nothing.'  " 
 
 The  following  paragraphs  from  letters  written  during  this 
 spring  will  not  be  uninteresting  : — 
 
 "Portland,  March  28,  1808. 
 
 "My  Dearest  Mother: — The  Sabbath  after  I  wrote  to 
 Grata,  I  preached,  as  I  expected;  but  it  proved  too  much  for 
 me,  and  I  have  not  preached  since,  nor  do  I  expect  to  till  the 
 weather  grows  warmer.  Meanwhile  the  attention  to  religion 
 seems  to  be  at  a  stand,  and  whether  it  will  not  wholly  subside, 
 is  more  than  we  can  tell.  I  need  not  say  that  this  is  a  trial; 
 but,  blessed  be  God,  he  makes  it  lighter  than  I  could  have 
 thought  it  possible.  It  is  true  I  have  not  much  sensible  or  pos- 
 itive comfort;  but  I  am  kept  perfectly  quiet  and  resigned,  and 
 can  hardly  find  whether  I  have  any  will  or  not.  Should 
 my  health  not  be  perfectly  re-established  before  warm  weather, 
 I  shall  probably  make  a  journey  home.  The  people  are  abun- 
 dantly kind,  and  suffer  me  to  want  for  nothing  which  they  can 
 supply.  Mr.  K.  is  as  kind  to  me  as  the  parish,  and,  though  he 
 is  almost  overwhelmed  with  labor,  yet  he  will  not  suffer  me  to 
 expose  myself  in  the  least. 
 
 "  Now,  after  enumerating  all  these  mercies,  you  will  conclude, 
 of  course,  that  I  am  all  wonder  and  gratitude,  and  that  the  con- 
 stant language  of  my  heart  is,  '  What  shall  I  render  unto  the 
 Lord  for  all  his  benefits]'  That  I  ought  to  be  so,  I  am  very 
 sensible ;  but,  alas,  how  far  from  it  I  am  in  reality !  I  do  in- 
 deed feel  some  wonder  how  God  can  be  so  good;  such  a  kind  of 
 wonder  as  we  feel  when  thinking  of  his  eternity  or  infinite 
 power;  but  as  to  gratitude,  I  hardly  know  by  experience  what 
 it  means.  I  once  used  to  think  that  I  did  feel  grateful,  when  I 
 had  not  half  the  reason  for  it  which  I  now  have;  but  I  have 
 done  thinking  so.  I  have  done  trying  to  praise  God  for  his 
 mercies.  All  we  can  do  falls  so  far  short  of  what  we  owe,  that 
 it  seems  little  better  than  mockery  to  thank  him  in  our  feeble 
 language,  and  I  can  only  stand  in  stupid  astonishment  to  sec 
 how  good  he  will  be  notwithstanding  all  I  can  do  to  prevent  it. 
 
150 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 O,  how  true  it  is,  that  he  will  have  mercy  on  whom  he  svill  have 
 mercy!  I  can  hardly  help  praying,  sometimes,  that  he  wonld 
 take  away  all  he  has  bestowed,  so  that,  if  I  must  sin,  I  need 
 not  sin  against  such  overwhelming  goodness.  But  it  is  as  nat- 
 ural for  him  to  be  good  and  kind,  as  it  is  for  us  to  abuse  his 
 goodness ;  and  sooner  shall  our  wicked  hearts  cease  to  sin,  than 
 he  cease  to  pardon  and  forgive  sin. 
 
 *  *  *  * 
 
 "The  embargo,  humanly  speaking,  will  be  detrimental  to  the 
 morals  of  the  people  here.  They  have  now  nothing  to  do  but 
 saunter  about,  and  then,  of  course,  they  get  into  all  manner  of 
 mischief;  and  I  fear  they  will  lose  all  habits  of  industry  and 
 sobriety.  However,  if  I  have  any  health,  we  shall  endeav- 
 or to  multiply  meetings,  and  take  up  as  much  of  their  time  as 
 possible  in  that  way." 
 
 "Portland,  April  18,  1808. 
 "Yes,  my  dearest  mother,  I  did  think  of  my  friends  at  llindge 
 when  I  apprehended  I  was  about  to  leave  them.  They  were 
 almost,  if  not  altogether,  the  only  things  that  I  felt  the  least 
 regret  at  the  idea  of  quitting;  but  that  regret  was  alleviated, 
 if  not  wholly  removed,  by  the  consohng  hope,  that  I  should 
 soon  meet  them  again,  to  be  separated  no  more.  But,  my  dear 
 mother,  why  this  anxiety?  If  I  wish  for  life,  it  would  distress 
 me  exceedingly  to  see  you  thus  anxious,  because  I  should  fear 
 it  would  lead  God  to  remove  from  you  one  for  whom  you  in- 
 dulge so  much  concern.  I  shall  certainly  live  as  long  as  I  have 
 any  thing  to  do  for  the  divine  glory;  for  'we  are  immortal  till 
 our  work  is  done;'  and  you,  surely  could  not  wish  me  to  live 
 after  that  is  accomplished.  Ever  since  I  have  entertained  a 
 comfortable  hope  of  my  acceptance  in  the  Beloved,  it  lias  been 
 my  constant  wish,  that  what  I  had  to  do  might  be  done  speedily; 
 and  if  God  should  see  fit  to  grant  this  wish,  will  it  not  be  better 
 than  if  I  should  be  a  long  time  in  performing  the  work  allotted, 
 and  drag  on  a  wearisome  life  to  no  purpose?  It  was  my  great 
 consolation,  while  taken  off  from  active  service,  and  laid  aside 
 as  a  broken  vessel  and  a  foot  out  of  joint,  that  we  may  glorify 
 God  as  much  by  patiently  suffering,  as  by  actively  doing  his 
 will;  and  I  hope  this  consolation  will  oe  yours,  should  he  see 
 fit  to  appoint  me  a  life  of  Aveakness^,  pain,  and  suffering,  or 
 remove  me  first  from  this  state  of  trial.    It  is  a  strikmg  proof 
 
EDWARD  PAYSOK. 
 
 151 
 
 of  our  depravity,  that  when  God  favors  us  with  special  mercies, 
 he  sees  it  necessary  to  send  special  afflictions,  to  teach  us  our 
 dependence  and  keep  us  humble.  Could  I  have  continued  sui- 
 tably humble  and  thankful  under  the  mercies  I  have  lately 
 received  with  respect  to  my  settlement  here,  and  the  out-pour- 
 ings of  the  Spirit,  he  never  would  have  frustrated,  first,  my 
 temporal  prospects,  and  afterwards,  by  sickness,  as  it  were  cast 
 me  out  of  his  vineyard,  as  an  unworthy  and  an  unfaithful  labo- 
 rer. But  I  not  only  deserved,  but  indispensably  needed,  all  that 
 has  befallen  me;  and  I  desire  to  bless  him  for  these  afflictions, 
 by  which,  when  my  roots  began  to  slioot  into  and  cleave  to  the 
 earth,  he  plucked  them  up  before  they  were  too  deeply  and 
 firmly  fixed,  and  thus  experimentally  taught  me  not  to  look  for 
 or  expect  any  happiness  beyond  that  of  serving  him  here,  but 
 to  wait  for  my  reward  in  another  world ;  a  lesson  of  infinite 
 importance,  and  which  I  greatly  needed.  But  it  is  a  lesson  so 
 hard  for  us,  or  at  least  for  me,  to  learn,  that  I  well  foresee,  if  I 
 am  contmued  here  any  length  of  time,  it  will  be  necessary  for 
 God  to  impress  it  upon  my  mind  again  and  again  by  repeated 
 and  multiplied  disappointments.  My  disposition  is  naturally  so 
 ardent,  that  I  can  enjoy  nothing  vvitli  moderation,  so  that  I  must 
 either  be  totally  indifferent  to  worldly  objects,  or  else  love  them 
 to  such  a  degree,  as  to  render  them  idols;  and  then,  of  course, 
 God  must  and  will  either  imbitter  or  remove  them.  It  is  evident, 
 therefore,  that  I  must  not  expect  worldly  happiness  ;  for  perfect 
 indifference  to  any  object,  or  too  much  love  for  it,  are  equally 
 incompatible  with  happiness ;  and  these  are  the  only  two  states 
 of  which  I  am  capable.  For  this  reason  I  fear  ever  to  enter  the 
 marriage  state,  for  I  should  most  certainly  love  a  wife  too  much 
 or  too  little.  I  know  not,  however,  whether  I  ought  to  regret 
 this  trait  in  my  character,  since,  by  cutting  me  off  from  other 
 sources,  it  does,  as  it  were,  necessarily  drive  me  to  One  whom  I 
 cannot  love  or  serve  too  much,  and  compel  me  to  place  all  my 
 hopes  in  a  future  state. 
 
 Since  you  complain  that  I  did  not  tell  you  what  my  sickness 
 has  been,  I  will  now  inform  you,  lest  you  should  suppose  it 
 worse  than  it  was.  It  was  an  inflammation  of  the  lungs  and 
 adjoining  parts,  attended  for  several  weeks  with  extreme  debility, 
 sharp  pain,  restlessness,  loss  of  appetite,  difficulty  of  breathing, 
 and  an  inability  to  converse  for  any  time  together.    I  should,  I 
 
152 
 
 V      MEMOIR    0  F 
 
 believe,  have  easily  got  over  it,  but  I  continued  my  labors  much 
 too  long,  hoping  I  should  be  able  to  drag  along  till  warm  weath- 
 er, which,  I  trusted,  would  restore  me.  But  after  sacrament, 
 when,  by  reason  of  the  length  of  the  services,  I  was  so  exhaust- 
 ed that  I  could  scarcely  sit  in  my  chair,  I  was  obliged  to  go  out 
 in  a  cold,  raw  evening,  to  converse  and  pray  with  a  dying  sailor, 
 ■who  had  just  found  out  that  he  had  a  soul  to  save.  The  next 
 day  was  a  violent  storm,  in  which  I  imprudently  went  out  to 
 visit  some  sick  persons,  and,  the  day  following,  was  seized  with 
 a  sharp,  pleuritic  pain  in  my  side.  However,  as  it  was  lecture 
 night,  I  was  obliged  to  preach,  which  I  got  through  with  much 
 pain  and  some  difficulty,  but  was  then  constrained  to  give  up. 
 Still  I  believe  my  confinement  would  have  been  much  shorter, 
 had  not  persons  continued  to  come  and  converse  with  me,  who 
 ■were  under  concern.  I  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  send 
 them  away,  and  the  temporary  exhilaration  of  spirits,  which 
 seeing  them  gave  me,  prevented  me  from  finding  out  at  first  how 
 much  talking  injured  me,  so  that,  for  a  long  time,  I  lost  much 
 faster  than  I  gained.  But  the  sun  seems  to  be  a  physician  supe- 
 rior to  all  the  doctors,  and  his  warm  beams,  under  God,  have  in 
 a  good  measure  restored  me. 
 
 '  Thus  have  I  spent  my  health  —  an  odious  trick  — 
 
 In  making  known  how  oft  I  have  been  sick.' 
 But  if  your  patience  is  wearied,  you  must  ascribe  it  to  your 
 own  request,  without  which  I  should  not  have  said  a  syllable 
 on  the  subject." 
 
 The  "  inflammation,"  he  observes  in  another  letter,  "  was 
 brought  on,  by  speaking  in  hot  rooms,  and  then  going  out  into 
 the  cold  evening  air."  His  illness  proved,  on  the  whole,  a  seri- 
 ous one  ;  and  he  was  obliged  not  only  to  suspend  preaching,  but 
 to  leave  the  scene  of  his  labors  before  he  could  obtain  relief. 
 On  the  27th  of  April,  he  set  out  for  his  father's  house,  to  try  the 
 effect  of  a  journey  and  a  country  residence  on  his  health.  "  In 
 crossing  a  stream,  whose  bridge  had  been  carried  away,  he  was 
 thrown  from  his  horse,  and  thoroughly  wet,  so  that  he  could 
 proceed  no  farther."  The  next  day,  "after  riding  about  ten 
 miles,  he  was  seized  with  the  symptoms  of  a  violent  fever,  and 
 obliged  to  stop,  and  take  his  bed."  The  third  day,  he  pursued 
 his  journey  moderately,  but  "  in  much  pain  and  weakness,  fear- 
 ing that  his  lungs  had  been  much  injured  by  his  late  accident" 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 153 
 
 Before  night  of  the  fourth  day,  he  "  was  extremely  exhausted." 
 "Find  that  a  fever  comes  on  at  night,  and  goes  oti'  with  sweats 
 in  the  morning."  The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  which  he 
 spent  in  Milford,  "  weak  in  body  and  mind.  After  meeting, 
 which  he  attended  both  parts  of  the  day,  had  some  conversation 
 with  a  Universahst,  but  to  Uttle  purpose  "  "  May  2.  Reached 
 home,  and  was  most  kindly  received.  After  the  flow  of  spirits, 
 occasioned  by  seeing  friends,  was  over,  found  myself  much  ex- 
 hausted by  my  journey." 
 
 For  several  days  after  his  arrival,  he  grew  worse,  till  he  "  lost 
 all  strength  and  appetite,"  and  was  taken  with  a  "  hectic  fever," 
 as  was  then  supposed,  "  attended  with  night  sweats  and  some 
 cough.  He  gave  up  all  hope  of  recovering,  and  felt  Avilling  to 
 die  ;  had  no  murmuring  thought." 
 
 VOL.  I.  20 
 
CHAPTER  IX. 
 
 Resumes  his  pastoral  labors.    Letters.   Review  of  the  year. 
 
 Mr.  Payson's  absence  from  his  people  was  prolonged  to  a 
 period  of  more  than  two  months.  During  this  time,  he  under- 
 went much  bodily  suffering;  bxit  his  resignation,  and  his 
 demeanor  generally,  were  such  as  became  a  man  professing 
 godliness.  He  obtained  no  relief,  till  near  the  close  of  this 
 period,  when  he  repaired  to  Boston  for  medical  advice,  by  which 
 he  was  encouraged  to  hope  that  he  might  again  engage  in 
 preaching  the  gospel.  His  church  observed  a  day  of  fasting 
 and  prayer  on  his  account  during  his  absence.  He  set  out  on 
 his  return  to  them,  July  4th,  not  without  "gloomy,  melancholy 
 fears.  The  work  appeared  great,  the  obstacles  insurmountable, 
 and  his  strength  nothing."  Most  of  the  information,  which 
 could  be  collected  respecting  his  circumstances  for  several  suc- 
 ceeding months,  is  contained  in  letters,  that  were  written  to  his 
 parents  and  sister. 
 
 "  Portland,  Wednesday  Evening,  July  6,  1808. 
 "My  dearest  parents: — When  you  see  where  and  when 
 this  letter  is  dated,  you  will,  I  fear,  be  readv  to  exclam,  'Impru- 
 dent boy  !  why  will  he  not  learn  wisdom  by  experience?'  But 
 when  you  hear  that  no  ill  consequences  have  resulted  from  my 
 haste,  you  will,  I  hope,  pardon  me.  The  truth  is,  when  I  got 
 beyond  the  reach  of  the  attraction  of  Rindge,  which  was  not 
 very  soon,  Portland  began  to  draw  with  such  irresistible  force. 
 
EPWAKD  PAYSON. 
 
 155 
 
 that  I  found  there  would  be  no  peace  for  me  till  I  reached  it. 
 So,  maugre  my  lame  horse,  who  grew  lamer  and  lamer  every 
 hour,  I  pressed  on,  and  arrived  here  about  six  this  afternoon. 
 How  it  will  be  to-morrow,  I  cannot  tell ;  but,  at  present,  1  am 
 perfectly  well,  and  never  was  less  fatigued  by  a  journey  in  my 
 life.  Mr.  K.  is  out  of  town,  attending  an  association,  and  my 
 host,  with  his  wife,  is  absent  on  a  visit;  so  as  yet  I  have  seen 
 nobody. 
 
 "  Thursday  Morn. 
 "  The  crowd  of  anxious  and  interesting  thoughts  which  en- 
 gaged my  mind  on  my  return  would  not  suffer  me  to  rest  much 
 last  night,  and  of  course  I  feel  rather  languid  this  morning. 
 Still  however,  I  never  felt  less  inconvenience  from  such  a  journey 
 Mr.  K.  has  just  left  me.  He  gives  a  discouraging  account  of 
 the  situation  of  religion.  Several,  whose  convictions  appeared 
 to  be  of  the  right  kind,  have  apparently  lost  them,  and  a  gene- 
 ral coldness  seems  to  be  prevailing. 
 
 "Thursday  Night. 
 "  Perhaps  you  saw  lately  an  account  of  a  man  who  was  tried 
 here  for  murder.  He  was  found  guilty,  and  is  now  in  the 
 condemned  hole.  I  went  this  afternoon  to  visit  him,  and  was 
 greatly  shocked  and  afflicted  by  a  view  of  the  bolts,  chains, 
 and  other  guards  against  escape.  The  entrance  to  his  dungeon 
 was  by  a  small  square  hole,  through  which  I  coidd  but  just 
 crawl  by  stooping  double,  and  it  was  secured  by  a  very  thick 
 door  of  solid  iron.  It  was,  however,  sufficiently  light,  sweet, 
 and  free  from  dampness.  The  criminal  is  a  young,  stout,  well- 
 looking  man,  as  far  removed  as  possible  from  the  idea  one  is 
 ready  to  form  of  a  murderer.  He  said  he  felt  guilty  and  self- 
 condemned  before  God,  and  felt  the  need  of  a  Saviour,  and  of  a 
 new  heart,  but  knew  not  how  to  procure  either  of  them.  But 
 he  said  this  in  a  cold,  mifeeling  way.  I  shall  see  him  again 
 soon,  for  my  own  sake,  as  well  as  his.  It  is  well  calculated  to 
 make  one  admire  and  adore  distinguishing  grace,  which  has 
 kept  us  from  the  same  crimes,  to  see  a  man,  in  the  flower  of 
 life,  shut  up  in  a  small  dungeon,  never  to  go  out  till  he  goes  to 
 a  violent  and  ignominious  death.  In  the  evening,  I  went  to 
 our  meeting  for  those  under  concern.  This  is  still  kept  up. 
 though  very  few  attend,  and  they  seem  little  engaged. 
 
15b 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "Friday. 
 
 "I  have  been  trying  the  effect  of  sea-bathing.  It  was  not  a 
 very  favorable  time,  but  I  feel  better  for  it,  and  shall  repeat  it 
 daily.  I  have  spent  some  time  in  going  round  among  the 
 people.  They  appear  glad  to  see  me  ;  but,  alas !  I  fear  there 
 are  no  hopes  of  any  further  reformation  at  present.  Many, 
 whom  I  left  under  deep  concern,  have  lost  all  their  impressions; 
 others  are  cold ;  Christians  seem  to  be  discouraged.  Though 
 1  expected  this,  it  is  almost  too  much  fdr  me  to  bear.  I  am 
 dispirited  and  dejected;  my  very  soul  sickens  and  shrinks  back 
 from  wliat  is  before  me.  Weakened  by  sickness,  my  mind 
 seems  to  have  lost,  at  once,  all  faith  and  fortitude.  I  have  no 
 assistance  in  writing.  My  ideas  are  all  confused.  I  seem  to 
 have  no  power  to  get  hold  of  people's  consciences,  but,  a.s 
 somebody  expresses  it,  'my  intellects  have  got  mittens  on'."' 
 
 "Sunday  Evening. 
 "I  preached  to-day,  and  felt  pretty  much  as  I  expected.  No 
 life — people  stupid.  I  shall  get  hardened  to  these  things  soon; 
 but  at  present  they  are  distressing  indeed.  But  though  I  am 
 perplexed,  I  am  not  utterly  in  despair;  though  cast  down,  I  am 
 not  destroyed.  Somehow  or  other,  I  shall  be  carried  through. 
 As  to  my  health,  I  have  little  leisure  to  think  of  it  amidst  the 
 more  interesting  things  which  oppress  me.  I  believe,  however, 
 I  shall  suffer  but  little  incouA^enience  from  speaking  to-day." 
 
 "Portland,  July  16,  1808. 
 "My  dear  sister: — I  know  not  why  it  was,  but  I  never  felt 
 more  pain  at  leaving  home,  since  I  first  began  to  venture 
 abroad,  than  when  I  left  Rindge  for  Portland.  I  rode  in  a 
 very  melancholy  mood  all  day,  and  seldom  have  I  felt  more 
 unpleasantly.  This,  you  will  say,  was  but  an  ungrateful 
 return  to  my  heavenly  Father,  for  his  goodness;  but,  though  I 
 felt  sensible  that  it  was,  I  could  not  alter  the  coarse  of  my  feel- 
 ings. My  mind  had  become  so  tender  by  being  accustomed  to 
 kindness  and  attention,  that  it  seemed  to  shrink  from  every 
 thing  like  coldness ;  and  it  was  in  vain  to  expect  that  kindness 
 from  others,  which  I  experienced  from  parental  and  sisterly 
 affection  at  home.    The  difficulties,  too,  of  the  ministry,  were 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 157 
 
 all  before  me.  Like  Peter,  I  looked  only  at  the  waves  and  bil- 
 lows, forgetting  the  almighty  arm  that  was  extended  for  iny 
 support;  and,  consequently,  like  him,  I  sunk  in  the  depths  of 
 despondency.  Nor  is  the  prospect,  now  I  am  here,  calculated 
 to  cheer  me.  Iniquities  abound;  the  love  of  many  is  waxen 
 cold ;  the  enemy  seems  coming  in  as  a  flood ;  the  Spirit  of  the 
 Lord  no  longer  lifts  up  a  standard  against  him ;  and  I,  what 
 can  I  do?  What  is  worst  of  all,  is,  that  many  are  ready  to 
 think,  that,  because  I  am  returned,  religion  will  revive.  This 
 sickens  and  discourages  my  very  soul ;  for  I  know,  assuredly, 
 that,  while  this  is  the  case,  my  labors  will  be  utterly  unsuc- 
 cessful. This  shows,  too,  that  they  have  not  learnt,  by  my 
 sickness,  what  God  meant  they  should  learn,  and  will  bring  a 
 blast  upon  me  and  my  exertions.  Still,  however,  blessed  be 
 God,  he  does  not  suffer  me  utterly  to  despair.  That  text, 
 '  Fear  thou  not,  for  I  am  with  thee ;  be  not  dismayed,  for  I  am 
 thy  God :  I  will  strengthen  thee ;  yea,  I  will  uphold  thee  with 
 the  right  hand  of  my  righteousness' — never  fails  to  bring 
 relief  even  in  the  darkest  hours.  In  addition  to  this,  I  find 
 some  relief  in  conversing  with  those  who  were  taken  into  the 
 church  before  I  left  them,  most  of  whom  seem  to  be  humble, 
 grov/ing  Christians;  so  that  I  have  still  abundant  reason  to  be 
 thankful;  but,  alas!  I  carmot  You,  my  sister,  never  will 
 know  what  it  is  to  attempt  to  go  through  the  duties  of  the  min- 
 istry without  God.  I  stagger  along  under  the  burden,  lilce 
 those  poor  travellers,  who  were  cast  away  in  the  deserts  of 
 Arabia,  ready  every  step  to  sink  under  it;  but  when  it  seems  as 
 if  I  could  not  take  another  step,  but  must  lie  down  and  die, 
 some  spring  opens  to  my  view,  and  I  get  strength  and  courage 
 to  drag  along  a  little  farther.  But  enough  of  this  melancholy 
 strain. 
 
 "  My  health  continues  to  improve  rapidly,  and  I  am  almost 
 perfectly  well.  Mr.  R.  preaches  here  next  Sabbath,  on  an  ex- 
 change with  Mr,  K.,  who  goes  to  administer  the  sacrament  at 
 Gorham.  He  is  much  liked ;  they  are,  I  believe,  unanimous, 
 or  nearly  so,  in  his  favor,  and  would  settle  him  olf  hand,  had 
 they  not  written  to  a  Mr.  B.  previous  to  Mr.  ll.'s  coming. 
 They  think  they  are  boimd  in  honor  to  hear  Mr.  B.,  and 
 Mr.  R.  feels  a  little  delicate  about  staying,  under  these  cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
158 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 ''July  21. 
 
 "I  rnentioned,  I  believe,  in  my  last  letter,  that  there  was  a 
 criminal  here,  imder  sentence  of  death  for  murder.  He  was 
 executed  to-day,  and  I  have  strong  hopes  he  died  a  sincere 
 penitent.    But  the  circumstances  are  too  long  for  a  letter. 
 
 *'  My  health  continues  to  improve  with  respect  to  the  difli- 
 cultiet;  in  my  breast;  but  I  am  so  oppressed  with  melancholy 
 that  life  is  a  burthen.  I  was  to  have  preached  a  sermon  at 
 the  execution  I  have  just  mentioned;  and  though  I  did  not 
 feel  able  to  write,  I  endeavored  to  force  myself  to  it.  But  a 
 melancholy  mind  will  not  be  forced,  and  I  found,  that,  if  I  did 
 not  desist,  I  should  be  distracted.  On  the  other  hand,  the  idea 
 that  such  an  opportunity  of  doing  good  should  be  lost,  drove 
 me  back  to  fresh  endeavors.  The  misery  I  have  endured  for 
 three  days  is  inconceivable,  and  has  made  me  quite  sick.  It 
 seemed  as  if  I  would  willingly  have  been  hanged  in  his  place, 
 rather  than  feel  as  I  did.  I  can  more  easily  believe  that  all 
 other  things  work  together  for  good,  than  that  melancholy 
 does.  It  appears  to  be  full  of  evil,  and  to  be  productive  of  no 
 manner  of  good  either  to  myself  or  others.  But  it  shall  not 
 cause  you  any  more  uneasiness  at  present,  for  I  will  bid  you 
 adieu,  till  I  am  in  better  humor.  Remember  me  to  all  friends; 
 ask  my  father  and  mother  to  write  to  and  pray  for  me.  I 
 would  give  up  preaching,  if  I  dared;  but  'wo  is  me,  if  1 
 preach  not  the  gospel'  Farewell — and  may  you  never  know, 
 by  experience,  the  present  feelings  of 
 
 "  Your  alfectionate,  thougii  unhappy  brother." 
 
 "Portland,  August  3,  1808. 
 
 "  My  deakest  parents  : — I  had  almost  resolved  not  to  write 
 again  till  I  received  letters  from  home,  which  I  have  been  look- 
 ing for  with  much  impatience  and  some  hard  thoughts;  but, 
 lest  you  should  impute  my  silence  to  a  wrong  cause,  I  will  put 
 an  end  to  it  for  the  present,  and  tell  you  that  I  am  gradually 
 growing  better,  and  am,  in  a  manner,  perfectly  well.  I  preach 
 in  all  weathers,  and  at  all  hours,  without  much,  if  any,  incon- 
 venience; and  still  gain  strength  notwithstanding;  and  the 
 people  say  that  I  speak  now  as  loud  and  strong  as  ever,  though 
 I  did  not  when  I  first  came  back.    I  have  also  thrown  off  my 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 159 
 
 melancholy  fits,  and  am  as  cheerful  as  ever.  The  state 
 of  religion,   however,   is  not  such  as  I  could  wish. 
 
 "I  preached,  last  Sabbath,  on  man's  depravity,  and  attempted 
 to  show,  that,  by  nature,  man  is,  in  stupidity  and  insensibility, 
 a  block ;  in  sensuality  and  sottishness,  a  beast ;  and  in  pride, 
 malice,  cruelty,  and  treachery,  a  devil.  This  set  the  whole 
 town  in  an  uproar,  and  never  was  such  a  racket  made  about 
 any  poor  sermon  ;  it  is  perfectly  inconceivable  to  any  who  have 
 not  seen  it.  But  I  cannot  help  hoping,  that  amidst  all  this 
 smoke,  there  may  be  some  latent  sparks,  which  will  burst  out 
 into  a  blaze.  We  had  a  lecture,  last  evening,  in  the  meeting- 
 house, which  was  much  more  crowded  than  any  we  ever  had 
 before.  However,  our  fears  are,  as  yet,  much  greater  than  our 
 hopes. 
 
 "  Mr.  K.  is  like  to  lose  his  youngest  child,  and  his  oldest  is 
 quite  sick.  He  is  also  slandered  and  abused  beyond  all  meas- 
 ure. Yet  he  bears  all  these  trials  in  a  manner  which  is  surpri- 
 sing. He  is  less  gay,  but  scarcely  less  cheerful,  than  usual ; 
 nor  would  any  one  suspect,  from  his  appearance,  that  he  Avas 
 suffering  in  body,  friends,  or  estate.  The  embargo  causes  us 
 much  uneasiness,  though  not  more  than  was  to  be  expected. 
 But  I  tremble  to  think  of  next  winter ;  for  the  poor  will  suffer 
 incalculably,  both  for  want  of  provisions  and  fuel." 
 
 The  sermon  alluded  to  in  this  letter  is  probably  one  which  he 
 preached  from  John  viii.  44,  and  which  is  still  remembered  with 
 lively  impression  by  some  of  the  hearers,  whose  account  of  its 
 effects  amply  sustains  his  own  description.  In  the  course  of  the 
 following  week,  there  mightbe  heard  one  man  hailing  another  as 
 "brother  devil!"  This,  coming  to  Mr.  Payson's  ears,  so  far 
 from  being  regarded  as  a  circumstance  of  discouragement,  in- 
 spired him  with  the  hope  that  good  would  ultimately  result  from 
 it — a  hope  which  the  event  justified;  for  some  of  these  "bravo 
 spirits  "  were  afterwards  humbled  at  the  foot  of  the  cross.  His 
 description  of  the  "  natural  man"  is  given  in  terms  which  he  re- 
 peatedly applies  to  himself  in  his  private  journal;  and  their  ap- 
 plication to  the  species  was  made  in  the  fulness  of  an  honest 
 heart.  They  show,  too,  that  he  was  not  indebted  to  flattery  for 
 any  part  of  his  popularity.  Still,  such  a  representation  of  the 
 subject  is  of  questionable  propriety,  and,  from  another  preacher 
 
160 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 might  have  been  productive  of  none  but  evil  consequences.  And 
 yet  some  young,  rash,  ignorant  ministers  will  be  more  emulous 
 to  copy  this,  than  any  other  trait  in  his  preaching.  After  letting 
 off  a  volley  of  harsh,  impertinent,  bitter,  and  extravagant  epi- 
 thets, with  a  heart  as  callous  as  that  which  they  describe,  they 
 will  flatter  themselves  that  they  have  been  signally  faithful,  and 
 are  "just  like  Dr.  Payson!"  But  they  mistake  his  character, 
 as  well  as  their  own.  His  severest  expressions  wctc  uttered 
 with  the  moving  tenderness  of  a  heart  that  yearned  over  the 
 guilt  and  impending  misery  of  his  fellow-men.  The  wounds 
 he  inflicted  were  "the  wounds  of  a  friend."  Those  on  whom 
 his  strokes  fell  with  deadliest  effect,  could  not  but  feel  that  be- 
 nevolence aimed  the  blow. 
 
 "  August  10. 
 
 "  I  have  just  received  your  letter,  my  dear  mother,  and  will 
 now  put  an  end  to  mine,  which  a  press  of  duty  has  made  me 
 layby.  Mr.  K.'s  child  is  dead,  and  that  has  thrown  a  great 
 deal  of  business  upon  my  hands.  He  is  going  a  journey  soon,  and 
 I  must  finish  visiting  the  people  before  he  goes,  as  I  shall  have 
 no  time  afterwards.  Your  letter  afforded  me  some  comfort  at  a 
 time  when  I  needed.it.  We  have  lost  all  hopes  of  anymore  at- 
 tention at  present,  and  I  am  in  some  measure  reconciled  to  it: 
 for  if  a  revival  should  take  place  immediately  after  my  return, 
 people  would  not  give  Cod  the  glory.  The  opposition  grows 
 more  and  more  bitter;  every  mouth  seems  to  be  open  to  revile, 
 and  Christians,  instead  of  supporting  me,  seem  to  think  that  it 
 will  not  do  to  tell  the  whole  truth,  lest  the  world  should  be  too 
 much  olTcnded.  I  was  prone  to  trust  to  Christians,  and  think 
 that,  though  all  should  be  offended,  yet  they  would  not;  but  I 
 find  it  will  not  do  to  put  trust  in  man,  however  good  he  may  be. 
 Even  Christians  had  much  radier  hear  of  their  privileges,  their 
 good  estate,  and  the  happiness  prepared  for  them,  than  be  told 
 plainly  how  defective  they  are,  and  urged  to  greater  diligence, 
 zeal,  and  fidelity.  I  think,  sometimes,  that  all  the  service  I  shall 
 do  the  church  will  be  to  change  them  from  legal  to  evangelical 
 hypocrites ;  for  they  have  now  got  their  cue,  and,  instead  of  say- 
 ing that  they  do  all  they  can,  and  hope  Christ  will  do  the  rest, 
 they  are  all  complaining,  like  Mrs.  *********,  what  dreadful 
 vile  creatures  they  are,  and  smile  all  the  time. 
 
 "However,  there  are  some  that  make  these  complaints  in  a 
 
EDWAR  D    PA YSON. 
 
 161 
 
 different  manner,  and  who  appear  really  to  groan  under  a  body 
 of  sin  and  death.  One  person,  who  was  esteemed  by  Mr.  K. 
 and  the  whole  church,  and  myself  too,  not  only  a  Christian,  but 
 a  very  eminent  one,  of  whose  religion  I  had  not  the  least  doubt, 
 and  who  appeared  to  be  very  humble  and  broken-hearted,  and, 
 in  short,  to  be  every  thing  we  could  wish,  has  discovered  that 
 she  was  building  on  the  sand.  She  had  been  a  professor  some 
 time,  but  had  never  heard  of  or  suspected  the  difference  between 
 holy  and  selfish  love,  and  is  now  fully  convinced  that  all  her 
 love  was  of  the  latter  kind.  As  she  possesses  good  sense  and 
 information,  the  accounts  she  gives  of  her  experiences,  while 
 destitute  of  religion,  are  very  profitable,  and  open  new  ways  in 
 which  persons  may  be  deceived,  of  which  I  had  scarcely  any 
 conception. 
 
 "1  did  not  intend  to  say  a  word  of  myself,  but  I  cannot  write 
 or  think  on  any  thing  else.  I  am  crushed  down,  not  only  into 
 the  dust,  but  below  the  dust,  so  that  it  seems,  at  times,  as  if  I 
 must  perish.  I  am  obliged  to  go  into  the  pulpit,  to  pray  and 
 preach,  with  my  mind  full  of  horrid  thoughts,  so  that  I  totally 
 forget  what  I  am  going  to  say,  and  am  forced  to  stop  short. 
 From  this  one  sample,  of  which,  however,  you  cannot  know 
 the  bitterness,  unless  you  had  been  forced  to  preach  in  that  sit- 
 uation, you  may  judge  of  the  rest.  Yet  1  know  it  is  all  for  the 
 best.  It  teaches  me,  I  hope,  to  give  the  glory  more  to  God,  when 
 I  feel  better.  Now  it  seems  as  strange,  if  a  good  thought  or 
 desire  rises  for  a  moment  in  my  mind,  as  it  would  be  to  find  a 
 diamond  on  a  dunghill,  or  to  see  a  gleam  of  sunshine  in  a  dark 
 night.  I  know  it  cannot  be  the  product  of  my  heart,  but  must 
 come  from  some  other  source;  and  to  that  source  I  wish  to 
 refer  it. 
 
 "  Portland,  September  8,  1808. 
 "My  nEAREST  parents:  Last  Sabbath,  I  preached  all  day, 
 administered  the  sacrament,  catechised  the  children,  and  spent 
 the  evening  in  conversation ;  and  yet,  instead  of  being  laid  up, 
 as  I  feared,  1  am  full  as  well,  if  not  better  than  before.  Things 
 Mill  remain  pretty  much  the  same  as  they  were.  A  great  many 
 seem  to  be  somewhat  alarmed,  but  I  see  none  of  those  deep 
 convictions  of  sin  which  I  used  to  see;  it  is  only  the  mere  work- 
 ings of  natural  fear.    Two  persons,  however,  who  had  entirely 
 
 VOL.  I.  21 
 
162 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 lost  their  convictions,  have  had  them  return  more  strongly  than 
 ever;  so  that  we  are  not  entirely  deserted.  People  seem  to  be 
 a  Httle  better  reconciled  to  the  truth,  and  several,  who  threatened 
 to  leave  the  parish,  still  remain  quiet ;  but  whether  their  quiet- 
 ness proceeds  from  mere  stupidity,  or  from  a  conviction  of  the 
 truth,  I  know  not.  The  church  seem  to  feel  the  general  dead- 
 ness;  and,  as  to  myself,  I  seem  palsied  to  all  good,  though  pride, 
 or  selfishness,  or  habit,  still  keeps  me  in  motion.  I  have  had 
 far  more  distressing  experience  of  the  dreadful  depravity  of  my 
 nature,  since  I  left  home,  than  ever  before.  O  the  heights  and 
 depths,  the  lengths  and  breadths,  of  wickedness,  in  the  depraved 
 heart!  If  complaining  to  man  was  of  service,  what  a  torrent 
 of  complaint  could  I  pour  out !    But  it  will  not  avail. 
 
 ,  Sept.  14. 
 
 "  Mr.  C,  a  young  gentleman  of  independent  fortune,  is  now 
 preaching  in  the  old  parish.  He  has  been  studying  divinity  in 
 Scotland,  and  preaches  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel  in  a  clear, 
 distinguishing  manner.  As  his  sentiments  were  known  before 
 he  came,  everything  was  said,  to  take  off  the  effect  of  his 
 preaching,  which  could  be  said.  They  cannot,  however,  accuse 
 him  of  interested  motives  in  preaching ;  and,  as  he  is  quite  a 
 gentleman  in  his  manners,  I  hope  he  will  lessen  the  prejudices 
 of  some  of  his  fashionable  hearers  against  the  gospel. 
 
 "  We  have  had  three  additions  to  the  church,  since  my  return, 
 of  persons  who  gave  very  satisfactory  evidence ;  and  there  are 
 a  few  other  gleanings  of  our  late  harvest,  that  are  not  yet  gath- 
 ered in ;  but.  otherwise,  we  are  in  a  most  stupid  state.  If  I 
 now  and  then  feel  a  spark  of  life,  the  moment  I  go  abroad 
 among  my  people,  it  goes  out,  and  I  always  come  home  quite 
 discouraged.  I  cannot  feel  thankful  as  I  ought  for  health  resto- 
 red. 
 
 Oct.  10. 
 
 "  Mr.  K.  comes  back  this  week,  and  my  hard  duty  is  over 
 without  any  ill  consequences.  I  have  had  some  relief,  of  late, 
 from  Mr.  C.'s  being  here,  at  the  old  parish,  and  preaching  sucli 
 doctrine  as  I  do." 
 
 In  the  following  letter  to  his  mother  is  a  most  vivid  sketch  of 
 
EDWARD    PAY SON. 
 
 163 
 
 the  workings  of  his  mind  in  his  hours  of  discouragement,  as 
 well  as  of  those  considerations  by  which  he  was  assisted  to  rise 
 above  it.    It  will  be  read  with  thrilling  interest : — 
 
 Portland,  Oct.  25,  1S08. 
 
 "  My  dearest  mother, — I  have  just  received  your  letter  of  the 
 19th,  and  like  all  your  letters,  it  came  just  in  the  right  time, 
 when  I  needed  it  most, — when  I  was  sinkmg,  fainting  under 
 discouragements  and  difficulties.  I  feel  the  force  of  all  you 
 say.  I  know  I  have  every  reason  in  the  world  to  feel  grateful ; 
 but  this  knowedge  only  renders  me  more  unhappy,  that  I  can- 
 not feel  it.  Gratitude  is  a  plant  that  my  heart  will  never  pro- 
 duce, only  when  heaven  is  pleased  to  place  it  there  ;  and  wheth- 
 er I  shall  ever  exei'cise  one  emotion  of  it  again,  seems  doubtful. 
 
 '  God  is  showing  me  what  is  in  my  heart  in  a  ten-fold  clearer 
 light  than  ever  before;  and  though  I  know  he  does  it  to  humble 
 and  prove  me,  that  he  may  do  me  good  in  the  latter  end ;  yet, 
 while  he  permits,  my  mind  will  be  like  the  troubled  sea,  which 
 caimot  rest,  whose  waters  cast  up  mire  and  dirt;  and  I  can  no 
 more  still  it  than  I  can  still  the  elements.  I  know  how  I  ought 
 to  feel,  and  I  know  how  wrong  it  is  to  feel  as  I  do ;  but  that 
 does  not  help  me  to  feel  otherwise.  I  know  that  I  am  every 
 thing  tliat  is  bad  summed  up  in  one,  and  that  I  deserve,  ten 
 tiiousand  times  over,  the  hottest  place  in  hell ;  but  till  God  shall 
 be  pleased  to  melt  my  heart  by  the  returning  beams  of  his  love, 
 this  sight  of  sin  only  hardens  my  heart,  and  sinks  it  down  in 
 sullen  indolence  and  despair.  I  well  remember  those  delightful 
 seasons  you  mention ;  but  I  remember  them  as  Satan  does  the 
 happiness  of  heaven,  which  he  has  lost.  I  cannot  help  being 
 sorry  tliat  I  ever  recovered,  ******  though  I  see, 
 as  clear  as  the  light  of  day,  how  devilish  and  cowardly,  and 
 base,  and  ungrateful,  such  a  temper  is.  I  loathe  and  detest  my- 
 self for  having  such  a  temper,  and  know  that  my  inability  to 
 restrain  it,  instead  of  being  any  excuse,  only  renders  me  utterly 
 inexcusable.  I  know,  too,  that  all  this  is  necessary  for  my 
 good.  I  know  Christ  is  near  me,  though  I  cannot  perceive  him; 
 and  that,  in  his  own  time,  which  will  be  the  best  time,  he  will 
 pluck  me  out  of  this  terrible  deep  pit,  and  set  my  feet  on  a  rock. 
 But  this  knowledge  does  not  prevent  my  being  tossed  hither  and 
 thither,  before  the  blast  of  temptation,  like  a  leaf  before  a  whirl 
 
164 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 wind.  Meanwhile,  I  have  nowhere  to  look  for  comfort,  either 
 in  heaven  or  earth.  My  prayer  seems  to  be  shut  out,  though  in 
 reality  I  know  it  is  not.  My  people  are  raving  about  my  hard 
 doctrine ;  my  friends  seem  to  stand  aloof,  my  health  begin.*^  to 
 decline,  religion  decaying,  and  all  hell  broke  loose  Avithin  me. 
 While  this  is  the  case,  what  can  reasoning  or  arguments  avail 
 Who  but  he  who  caused  light  to  shine  out  of  darkness,  can 
 bring  light  and  order  out  of  the  darkness  and  chaos  of  my 
 soul? 
 
 "  Your  hopes  with  respect  to  Mr.  C.  are  frustrated.  Notwith- 
 standing he  combined  almost  every  advantage,  such  as  being 
 independent  in  property,  eloquent,  polished  in  his  manners,  &.c. 
 (fcc.,  he  had  only  thirty  for  to  ninety  against  him.  Mr.  R.  has 
 a  unanimous  call  at  Gorham ;  but  he  feels  afraid  to  settle,  be- 
 cause he  is  not  qualified.  I  tell  him  to  settle  by  all  means ; 
 for,  if  he  waits  a  little  longer,  he  never  will  feel  qualified  to 
 settle  at  all.  If  I  had  waited  till  this  time,  I  surely  should  nev- 
 er have  been  a  minister.  I  should  give  up  now,  but,  whenever 
 I  think  of  it,  something  seems  to  say,  'What  are  you  going  to 
 give  up  for  7  Suppose  you  are  a  poor,  miserable,  blind,  weak, 
 stupid  worm  of  the  dust,  with  mountains  of  opposition  before 
 you, — is  that  any  reason  for  discouragement?  Have  you  yet 
 to  learn,  that  God  has  chosen  the  weak  things  of  the  Avorld  to 
 confound  the  mighty,  and  that,  if  you  had  the  talents  of  an 
 angel,  you  could  do  nothing  without  his  assistance  ?  Has  he 
 not  already  helped  you  beyond  all  you  dared  ask  or  think;  and 
 has  not  he  promised  to  help  you  in  future  ?  What  then  would 
 you,  poor,  weak,  stupid,  cowardly  fool,  have  more  ? — what  do 
 you  keep  murmuring  about  all  the  time  ?  Why  don't  you  glory 
 in  your  infirmities,  that  the  power  of  Christ  may  rest  upon  you  ?' 
 To  all  this  I  can  answer  nothing,  and  so  I  keep  dragging  on, 
 because  I  dare  not  leave      without  a  discharge. 
 
 "  We  have  still  a  few  inquirers,  and  one  or  two  have  joined 
 the  church  every  communion,  which  is  once  a  month.  Tlie 
 church  continue  to  attend  private  meetings  diligently.  W{; 
 know  of  four  old  professors,  who  have  been  building  on  sand, 
 but  now,  I  hope,  are  on  Christ;  but  we  have  still  a  wretched 
 set.  One  was  yesterday  found  to  be  intemperate,  who  has  been 
 a  professor  several  years. 
 
 "  I  am  not  quite  so  well  as  I  have  been,  but  am  as  well  as 
 
EDWARD    PA  YSON. 
 
 165 
 
 when  I  left  home,  and  might  have  been  better,  if  I  could  learn 
 any  prudence." 
 
 His  filial  love  suffered  no  abatement  in  consequence  of  his 
 growing  years  and  increased  cares.  How  eager  he  was  to  relieve 
 a  father's  burdened  spirit,  will  be  seen  in  the  following  letter  of 
 condolence : — 
 
 Portland,  Nov.  13  1808. 
 "  My  dearest  father, — Yours  of  the  1st  inst.  1  received  yes- 
 terday, and  its  contents  gave  me  no  little  uneasiness.  I  am 
 grieved  thatsuch  depravity  should  be  displayed  by  one  so  young,* 
 and  that  such  an  addition  should  be  made  to  your  cares  and 
 sorrows.  How  1  long,  how  I  should  rejoice,  to  say  something, 
 that  would  comfort  you,  my  dear  father  ;  something  that  would 
 tend  to  lighten  the  burden  of  life  which  you  mention  !  but  alas! 
 I  am  a  miserable  comforter,  and  cannot  even  comfort  myself. 
 1  have  been  preaching,  to-day,  on  Isaiah  xl.  1,  Comfort  ye,&c.: 
 on  account  of  some  who  are  afflicted  with  various  troubles  ;  and 
 in  trying  to  comfort  them,  I  obtained  (he  first  drop  of  consola- 
 tion, which  I  have  tasted  for  many  days  ;  and  I  would  gladly 
 share  it  with  you,  or  rather  give  you  all,  if  in  my  power.  But 
 I  dare  not  presume  to  point  out  to  you  the  springs  of  consolation 
 which  the  gospel  affords,  and  at  which  you  have  often  drank 
 and  been  refreshed.  But  if  I  were  writing  to  another,  I  would 
 ask.  What  burden  can  be  heavy,  to  one  who  has  Omnipotence 
 for  his  support?  Is  there  not  balm  inGilead?  Is  there  no 
 physician  there?  Is  there  any  anguish  which  this  balm  cannot 
 alleviate?  any  wound  which  this  physician  cannot  heal?  1 
 would  ask.  Can  he  need  comfort,  who  knows  that  he  belongs 
 to  the  friends  and  people  of  God  ?  that  his  sins  are  forgiven, 
 and  his  name  written  in  the  Lamb's  book  of  life  ?  Is  it  not 
 strong  consolation,  consolation  sufficient  to  support  the  soul  under 
 the  severest  trials,  to  know  that  you  are  v/ashed,  justified,  and 
 sanctified,  by  the  blood  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  the  Spirit  of  your 
 God?  that  there  is  laid  up  for  you,  in  heaven,  a  crown  of  glory, 
 an  inheritance  incorruptible,  undefiled,  and  which  fadeth  not 
 away  ?  and  that  neither  death,  nor  life,  nor  principalities,  nor 
 powers,  nor  things  present,  nor  things  to  come,  shall  ever  be 
 
 *He  refers  to  a  young  female  domestic  who  set  fire  to  his  father's  house. 
 
16G 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 able  to  separate  you  from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ 
 Jesus  your  Lord  ?  Is  it  not  comfort  sufficient  to  satisfy  even 
 the  boundless  desires  of  an  immortal  mind,  to  know  that  you 
 are  a  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  a  member  of  Christ,  and  a  child 
 of  God  7  that  the  blessed  angels  are  your  guards  and  attendants  1 
 that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  your  Assistant  and  Sanciifier  ?  the  Son  of 
 God  your  Friend,  your  Shepherd,  your  Intercessor,  and  Head  7 
 and  God  himself  your  Father,  your  God,  and  your  exceeding 
 great  reward?  Is  it  not  enough  to  know,  that  your  salvation 
 standeth  sure,  and  that  heaven  is  as  certainly  yours,  as  if  you 
 already  stood  on  Mount  Zion,  singing  the  praises  of  redeeming 
 love 7  Is  it  not  enough  to  know  that  all  things  shall  work 
 together  for  your  good,  through  time  and  eternity  7  and  that  he 
 who  spared  not  his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him  up  for  us  all,  will 
 with  him  also  freely  give  us  all  things  7  In  some  such  manner 
 as  this  I  would  write  to  an  equal,  to  one  whose  progress  in  relig- 
 ion was  small,  whose  trials  were  light,  and  whose  views  of  di- 
 vine things  were  partial  and  confined,  like  my  own.  But  to 
 you,  mv  dear  father,  I  dare  not  write  thus,  for  you  know  these 
 things  already ;  and  you  have  doubtless  spiritual  trials,  of  which 
 I  can  as  yet  form  no  conception,  and  under  which,  consequently, 
 I  know  not  how  even  to  try  to  comfort  you.  But  is  it  not  some 
 satisfaction  to  reflect,  that  to  you  and  my  mother  I  shall  be 
 indebted,  under  God,  for  everlasting  felicity  ;  and  that,  if  I  am 
 made  the  instrument  of  doing  any  good  in  the  world,  it  will  be 
 owing  to  your  prayers,  precepts,  and  example  7  My  dear  father, 
 how  many  have  all  your  trials,  and  none  of  your  comforts — no 
 God  to  go  to,  no  religion  to  support  them,  no  hope  of  heaven, 
 no  divine  consolations,  to  soothe  their  sorrows  in  this  valley  of 
 tears  !  Do,  then,  let  us  persuade  you  to  be  happy ;  for  you 
 have  been  the  means  of  great  good  and  happiness  to  us. 
 
 "  I  dare  not  read  over  what  I  have  written,  and  I  am  almost 
 afraid  to  send  it ;  for  I  write  in  a  hurry,  and  much  exhausted 
 both  in  body  and  mind,  by  the  labors  of  the  day  ;  but  I  write 
 with  a  most  ardent  desire  to  give  you  a  moment's  pleasure ; 
 and  though  I  fear  I  shall  not  succeed,  yet  I  hope  the  intention 
 will  be  accepted.  I  am  imfit  to  write,  for  it  is  very  late,  and  I 
 am  very  sleepy,  very  much  tired,  and  my  head  aches ;  but  if  I 
 did  not  write  now,  I  m-ust  wait  some  time,  and  I  know  not  how 
 to  wait  a  single  day,  without  expressing  my  sorrow  for  your 
 new  troubles,  though  unable  to  remove  them. 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 167 
 
 "  My  health  remains  nearly  the  same  as  when  I  wrote  last. 
 1  am  not  better,  and  I  know  not  that  I  am  worse.  I  shall  not 
 fail  to  let  you  know  the  worst,  as  I  promised  to  do.  You  need, 
 therefore,  be  under  no  apprehensions  that  I  am  worse  than  I 
 represent.  The  state  of  religion  continues  much  the  same,  only 
 the  line  seems  to  be  drawing  between  the  friends  and  the  ene- 
 mies of  Christ.  The  word  is  to  some  a  savor  of  life  unto  life  ; 
 but  to  many,  a  savor  of  death  unto  death.  Many  among  us 
 seem  to  be  literally  mad  upon  their  idols  ;  but  the  church  seem 
 to  be  growing  in  grace.  There  is  a  society  among  them,  who 
 have  two  prayer  meetings  weekly,  besides  a  monthly  fast.  The 
 young  converts,  as  yet,  promise  fair." 
 
 Mr.  Payson's  pastoral  labors,  daring  the  first  year,  though 
 much  interrupted  by  sickness,  were  nevertheless  successful,  and, 
 by  the  blessing  of  God,  issued  in  an  accession  of  twenty-nine 
 members  to  the  church.  His  sermon,  at  the  first  anniversary  of 
 his  ordination,  was  founded  on  2  Cor.  ii.  15,  16,  in  which  he 
 illustrated,  in  a  very  lucid  and  solemn  manner,  the  propositions, 
 that,  "  to  those  who  are  saved,  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  is  a 
 savor  of  life  unto  life;"  that,  "  to  those  who  perish,  it  is  a  savor 
 of  death  unto  death ;"  and  that  "  the  labors  of  those  who 
 preach  it,  are  in  both  cases  acceptable  to  God."  In  the  appli- 
 cation of  his  discourse,  after  recognising,  with  much  feeling,  his 
 ordination  vows,  and  the  changes  by  death  and  otherwise, 
 which  had  occurred  in  the  society,  he  acknowledges  that  their 
 conduct  to  him  "  has  been  such  as  not  only  to  afford  no  cause 
 of  complaint,  but  to  merit  and  excite  his  warmest  gratitude,  and 
 most  earnest  prayers  and  endeavors  to  promote  their  temporal 
 and  spiritual  welfare.  The  patience,  with  which  you  have 
 borne  with  the  infirmities  occasioned  by  a  long  and  debilitating 
 illness ;  the  diligence  and  attention  Avith  which  you  have  lis- 
 tened to  the  ministrations  of  the  word,  both  in  season  and  out 
 of  season;  and  the  many  proofs  of  kindness  and  regard,  equally 
 unexpected  and  undeserved,  which  you  have  displayed,  —  are 
 too  deeply  impressed  on  the  heart  and  memory  of  the  speaker 
 ever  to  be  forgotten,  and  will  render  it  no  less  his  pleasure  and 
 delight,  than  it  is  his  duty,  wholly  to  spend  and  be  spent  in  your 
 service.  But  merely  to  hear  the  messages  of  God  attentively, 
 and  to  treat  with  kindness  those  who  bring  them,  is  not 
 
168 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 sufficient ;  for  not  the  hearers,  but  the  doers  of  the  word  shall 
 be  justified. 
 
 "Permit  me,  therefore,  to  ask,  whether  you,  my  friends,  have 
 done  more  than  this  1  According  to  the  measure  of  ability  given 
 me,  I  have  endeavored  plainly  to  declare  unto  you  tne  whole 
 counsel  of  God  ;  and  though,  through  an  anxious  desire  to  strip 
 off  all  disguise  from  the  truth,  and  prevent,  so  far  as  possible, 
 all  error  and  mistake,  the  speaker  may  have  expressed  himself 
 imguardedly,  and  only  irritated  where  he  meant  to  convince, 
 yet  still  it  is  the  truth  which  he  has  proclaimed.  And  we  would 
 ask  you,  most  seriously  and  affectionately,  whether  it  has  been 
 to  your  souls  a  savor  of  life  unto  life,  or  of  death  unto  death  7 
 ******* 
 
 "  Light  as  it  may  appear  to  us,  it  is,  my  friends,  a  dreadful 
 thing  to  trifle  with  the  law  and  gospel  of  Jehovah.  Nor  can 
 a  greater  curse  befall  a  people,  than  to  hear  his  word,  if  they 
 neglect  to  perform  it.  A  flood  of  waters,  or  a  deluge  of  fire,  is 
 comparatively  a  blessing.  There  are,  doubtless,  many  such 
 triflers  here,  who  fully  resolve,  at  some  future  time,  to  repent 
 and  believe  the  gospel.  But  on  what  are  your  hopes  founded  1 
 Salvation  is  now  more  distant  from  you  than  ever.  For  years 
 you  have  been  hardening  in  sin.  Every  sermon  you  have  heard 
 has  insensibly  rendered  you  worse.  You  have  already  heard 
 every  motive,  argument  and  consideration,  which  the  Scriptures 
 afford,  and  heard  them  in  vain.  The  whole  storehouse  of 
 spiritual  medicines  has  been  thrown  open  for  your  relief;  but 
 your  moral  diseases,  instead  of  being  healed,  have  become  more 
 inveterate.  We  can  only  present  to  you  again  the  same  reme- 
 dies, which  have  already  proved  unsuccessful ;  for  the  art  of 
 man  and  the  word  of  God  aff'ord  no  other.  Humanly  speaking, 
 then,  it  is  evident  you  must  perish.  But  though  your  recovery 
 is  thus  impossible  with  man,  it  is  not  with  God.  Blessed  be  his 
 name !  there  is  yet  balm  in  Gilead,  and  a  Physician  there,  who 
 can  heal  when  mortal  physicians  fail.  But,  alas  !  you  will  not 
 apply  to  him.  You  will  not  believe  you  are  sick ;  you  will  not 
 be  persuaded  to  seek  eternal  life.  You  still  go  on  to  neglect  the 
 gospel ;  and  perhaps  this  very  warning  will  prove  to  some  of 
 you  a  savor  of  death  unto  death.  My  friends,  how  trying  is  the 
 situation  of  the  ministers  of  Christ,  if  they  have  any  love  for 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 169 
 
 their  people,  or  regard  for  their  souls.  They  are  like  a  man 
 placed  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice,  to  warn  travellers,  that,  if 
 they  proceed,  they  will  inevitably  be  dashed  in  pieces.  The 
 travellers  arrive,  listen  to  the  warning,  and  then,  with  a  few  ex- 
 ceptions, hold  on  their  coarse,  and  perish  before  the  eyes  of  him 
 who  labored  in  vain  to  save  them. 
 
 "  Such,  but  infinitely  more  distressing,  is  our  situation.  We 
 stand  at  the  entrance  of  the  way  of  life,  to  warn  our  people, 
 that  they  are  in  the  broad  road  to  destruction,  and  to  urge  and 
 entreat  them  to  turn  aside  and  be  happy.  Many  of  them  hear 
 our  entreaties  with  some  degree  of  attention  and  regard.  They 
 engage  our  affections  by  kind  offices ;  we  labor  with  them,  tell 
 them  they  are  deeply  roofed  in  our  hearts  and  affections  ;  and 
 then,  in  defiance  of  all  our  prayers  and  tears,  they  hurry  away, 
 and  perish  before  our  eyes,  in  a  manner  too  dreadful  to  be  con- 
 ceived. If  this  be  not  agony,  disappointment,  and  distress,  what 
 is?  The  agonies  of  a  patriot,  trembling  for  his  country — ^of  a 
 wife,  watching  an  expiring  husband  —  or  of  a  mother,  trembling 
 for  a  diseased  child  —  are  nothing  to  those  which  he  must  feel, 
 who  knows  the  worth  of  an  immortal  soul,  who  considers  what 
 it  is  to  be  lost,  and  yet  sees  his  people  perishing  before  him. 
 
 "  O,  my  friends,  my  dear  friends  !  how  do  our  spirits  droop, 
 and  our  hearts  sicken  with  anguish  and  despair,  when  we  con- 
 sider, that,  notwithstanding  all  we  can  do,  many  here  present 
 will  finally  find  the  gospel  a  savor  of  death  unto  death  !  and  all 
 our  exertions  will  answer  no  other  purpose  than  to  increase,  be- 
 yond conception,  their  misery  and  guilt !  O,  ye  precious,  im- 
 mortal souls!  ye  spirits,  that  will  never  die !  ye  heirs  of  eter- 
 nity, hear  ! — and  obey,  ere  it  is  too  late,  the  joyful  sound  of  the 
 gospel.  O,  if  there  be  any  avenue  to  conviction,  tell  us  where 
 it  lies.  Tell,  O  tell  us,  how  we  may  draw,  or  drive,  or  lead  you 
 to  Christ.  Tell  us  how  we  may  bribe  you  not  to  be  miserable 
 forever.  Almost  are  we  ready  to  say  with  the  apostle  —  we 
 could  even  wish  ourselves  accursed  from  Christ  for  our  people, 
 cur  friends  according  to  the  flesh." 
 VOL.  I.  22 
 
CHAPTER  X. 
 
 His  dependence  on  God  ;  its  influence  on  liitnself  and  church.  His  uniform 
 purpose  to  know  notliing  save  Jesus  Christ  and  Him  crucified.  IllusU'a- 
 tion.    Letters.    Resolutions.    Licreased  success. 
 
 The  preparation  of  his  first  anniversary  sermon,  from  which 
 some  extracts  have  been  taken,  was  attended  by  long  continued 
 and  intense  private  devotion ;  and  in  preaching  it,  he  "  had 
 much  assistance,  and  many  were  in  tears. "  He  looked  forward 
 through  the  year  to  come  with  the  same  prayerful  solemnity, 
 which  distinguished  his  retrospect  of  the  past.  In  view  of  his 
 amazing  responsibilities,  he  went  for  aid  "  to  the  throne  of  grace  ; 
 and,  "  he  exclaims — "O,  the  unspeakable  goodness  and  conde- 
 scension of  God ! — did  not  go  in  vain."  His  complaints  still 
 lumg,  like  a  clog,  to  him,  so  that  his  body  could  but  partially 
 serve  the  ever-active  spirit  by  which  it  was  animated.  This 
 calamity  was  at  no  time  more  trying  than  when  it  prevented 
 iiim  from  preaching  his  usual  Thursday  evening  lecture.  On 
 one  such  evening  he  makes  this  record: — ■ 
 
 "Dec.  30.  Had  a  sweet  season  in  prayer  this  morning  ;  and 
 felt  fervent  love  to  my  Saviour,  and  desires  that  he  might  be 
 glorified.  Was  much  assisted  in  writing  upon  a  subject,  which 
 led  me  to  insist  upon  the  constraining  power  of  Christ's  love; 
 and,  blessed  be  God,  1  was  enabled  in  some  measure  to  feel  my 
 subject.  Was  prevented  from  preaching  by  the  weather,  and 
 the  state  of  my  health;  which  was  a  great  disappointment." 
 
 It  was  Mr.  Payson's  uniform,  if  not  invariable  practice,  to 
 
EDW  ARD  PAYSON. 
 
 171 
 
 use  a  written  sermon  on  one  part  of  every  Sabbath;  and  yet  it 
 is  worthy  of  particular  observation,  how  much  he  sought  and 
 vahied  divine  assistance  in  preaching.  His  dependence  on  the 
 Spirit's  aid  was,  apparently,  as  real  and  exclusive  as  if  he  had 
 made  no  previous  preparation.  He  was  greatly  distressed,  when 
 engaged  in  pronouncing  a  discoiu-se,  unaccompanied  with  a 
 consciousness  of  such  assistance ;  and  proportionately  grateful 
 when  favored  with  it.  A  single  extract  will  exhibit  his  feelings 
 on  this  subject : — 
 
  "Sabbath.  Preached  without  the  least  apparent  assis- 
 tance. Was  so  distressed,  that  I  left  the  sermon  unfinished,  and 
 felt  as  if  the  people  would  leave  the  house.  Went  home  feeling 
 ashamed  to  look  any  body  in  the  face.  Was  ready  to  give  up 
 in  despair;  ....  and  had  scarcely  any  hope  that  I  should  ever 
 again  behold  the  light  of  God's  countenance.  Yet  such  is  the 
 inconceivable  goodness  of  God  to  his  perverse  and  froward 
 children,  that  he  was  pleased,  even  then,  to  melt  my  stubborn 
 heart  with  the  displays  of  his  love.  Felt  so  overwhelmed  with 
 a  sense  of  his  goodness  and  my  own  ingratitude,  that  I  could 
 not  look  up,  or  hardly  venture  to  throw  myself  at  his  feet.  My 
 heart  was  broken  within  me,  to  think  that  I  should  stilt  ungrate- 
 fully requite  such  infinite  goodness." 
 
 If  this  reliance  on  God  for  help  in  preaching  was  not  peculiar 
 to  him,  but  common  —  as  it  probably  is  in  a  degree- — to  every 
 evangehcal  minister,  the  knowledge  of  the  fact  may,  perhaps, 
 weaken,  if  it  does  not  remove  the  prejudice,  which  exists  in 
 many  minds  against  any  use  of  "notes"  by  a  preacher. 
 
 His  diary,  during  this  winter,  bears  the  marks  of  a  rapidly 
 advancing  maturity  in  the  Christian  life.  Who  would  not  em- 
 ulate the  state  of  mind  which  is  thus  described  ! — 
 
  "Was  favored  with  clear  views  of  the  matchless  good- 
 ness of  Christ,  and  my  own  vileness.  Was  so  overwhelmed  and 
 astonished,  that  he  should  again  look  upon  me  with  favor,  that 
 I  could  scarce  believe  it  possible.  Seemed  to  be  drawn  away 
 from  self,  and  to  feel  more  desire  that  God  should  be  glorified 
 than  that  I  should  be  happy.  This  is  the  only  heav^en  I  aspire 
 to;  and  to  have  such  a  temper  appeared  more  desirable  than 
 
172 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 ten  thousand  worlds.  Felt  sweetly  broken-hearted  and  grieved 
 to  think  how  I  had  sinned  against  such  a  Saviour,  and  thought 
 I  should  be  willing  to  undergo  any  sufferings,  if  I  might  never 
 offend  him  again.  Longed  to  see  him  glorified  by  others ;  for  I 
 almost  desjjaired  of  ever  glorifying  him  myself  " 
 
 And  who,  that  reads  the  following,  and  is  informed  that  sim- 
 ilar records  continue  to  occur  at  short  intervals,  will  any  longer 
 wonder  that  success  crowned  his  labors?  The  first  extract 
 shows,  that  the  duties  which  he  urged  on  others  were  first  prac- 
 tised by  himself: — 
 
 "Jan.  2,  1809.  Rose  very  early  and  enjoyed  a  sweet  season 
 in  secret  prayer.  Spent  the  day  in  visiting.  In  the  evening,  felt 
 the  worth  of  souls  lie  with  peculiar  weight  upon  my  mind,  and 
 was  enabled  to  wrestle  fervently  for  divine  influence. 
 
 "Jan.  3.  Was  favored  this  morning  with  such  a  view  of  the 
 worth  of  souls,  that  I  could  not  rest  at  home,  but  went  out  to 
 visit  my  people,  and  stir  up  the  members  of  the  church  to  pray 
 for  divine  influences.  Never  felt  such  love  for  the  people  of  God, 
 as  this  day.  Seemed  willing  to  wash  their  feet,  or  perform  the 
 lowest  offices,  because  they  belonged  to  Christ.  Longed,  all 
 day,  to  do  something  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  conversion  of 
 sinners.  Wished  for  health,  that  I  might  employ  my  time  for 
 God." 
 
 A  heart  so  intent  upon  seeking  the  salvation  of  men,  might 
 well  be  supposed  to  dictate  language  like  the  following,  when 
 the  tenement  in  which  it  was  lodged  Avas  too  feeble  to  be  remov- 
 ed from  its  resting-place: — 
 
 "Jan.  7.  During  the  past  week,  the  word  of  the  Lord  has 
 been  like  a  fire  shut  up  in  my  bones.  I  long  to  preach,  but 
 cannot.    O  that  I  may  be  patient  and  resigned. " 
 
 The  minister  who  furnishes  appropriate  employment  for  the 
 members  of  his  church,  performs  one  of  the  most  useful  servi- 
 ces connected  with  human  agency,  and  is  the  least  likely  to  la- 
 bor in  vain,  and  spend  his  strength  for  nought.  A  conviction  of 
 personal  responsibility  for  the  prosperity  of  religion,  deeply  fixed 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 173 
 
 in  the  heart  of  every  private  Christian — a  responsibiUty  which 
 all  are  hut  too  ready  to  throw  off  upon  their  minister —  will,  if 
 any  thing  can,  render  them  circumspect,  "instant  in  prayer," 
 and,  "always  abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord.  "  It  is  one 
 of  the  best  preparations  for  hearing  the  word  with  profit :  for 
 with  it  they  will  listen,  not  to  cavil,  not  to  be  amused,  but  for 
 edification,  and  that  they  may  learn  "what  the  Lord  would  have 
 them  do."  The  pastor,  who  is  sustained  by  the  daily  fervent 
 prayers  of  his  flock,  and  by  their  frequent  united  prayers,  has 
 a  ground  for  encouragement  and  hope,  that  will  not  fail  him. 
 The  Spirit  will  not  leave  that  people  unvisited,  who  so  appreci- 
 ate his  influences,  as  to  seek  them  daily  with  ardor  of  desire, 
 and  to  whom  their  descent  would  be  as  welcome,  and  as  refresh- 
 ing, "  as  cold  waters  to  a  thirsty  soul."  It  was,  therefore,  a 
 well-advised  step  in  Mr.  Payson,  to  engage  the  prayers  of  the 
 church  for  a  blessing  on  the  word  dispensed  by  him,  and  for  a 
 general  revival  of  religion.  The  great  importance  of  the  duty 
 justified  his  special  exertions  to  secure  its  performance,  and  both 
 he  and  they  had  much  reason  to  rejoice  in  the  issue. 
 
 "Portland,  Jan.  10,  1809. 
 "My  dearest  mother: — I  have  been  for  some  time,  endeav^- 
 oring  to  establish  among  us  what  are  called  "Aaron  and  Hur 
 societies,  "  i.  e.  little  collections  of  four,  five,  or  more  persons, 
 to  meet  before  service  on  Sabbath  morning,  and  spend  an  hour 
 in  praying  for  a  blessing  on  the  minister  and  ordinances.  They 
 began  new  year's  day,  and  we  seemed  to  have  an  immediate 
 answer;  for  the  meeting  was  unusually  solemn,  and  we  have 
 reason  to  hope  the  word  was  not  preached  in  vain.  Our  hopes 
 of  another  revival  are  increasing,  as  there  seems  to  be  an  unus- 
 ual spirit  of  prayer,  and  several  persons  have  lately  been  awa- 
 kened. However,  God's  ways  are  not  as  our  ways,  and  we  may 
 be  disappointed.  Indeed,  it  seems  impossible  to  me,  that  there 
 should  be  any  attention,  so  long  as  I  am  here.  I  am  harassed 
 with  such  violent  temptations,  from  morning  till  night,  and  from 
 night  till  morning,  with  scarce  a  moment's  intermission,  that  I 
 am  utterly  weary  of  life,  and  ready  to  despair.  It  seems  as  if 
 I  must  one  day  perish  by  the  hands  of  this  accursed  Saul,  which 
 seeks  to  destroy  me.  When  I  have  a  moment's  ease,  the  word 
 of  the  Lord  is  like  a  fire  shut  up  in  my  bones,  and  it  seems  as 
 
174 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 if  I  must  preach,  if  I  die  for  it,  even  to  stocks  and  stones,  if  men 
 will  not  hear;  and  yet  I  can  only  preach  once  on  the  Sabbath, 
 and  am  obliged  to  refrain  all  the  week.  This  sets  melancholy 
 at  work,  and  gives  the  adversary  great  advantage  over  me. 
 Yet  I  appear  to  know  it  is  all  right  and  necessary;  but  this 
 knowledge  does  not  comfort  and  strengthen  me  as  it  ought. 
 Truly  the  righteous  scarcely  are  saved  ;  and  we  must  through 
 much  tribulation  enter  into  the  kmgdom  of  God.  Still,  howev- 
 er, externally,  my  cup  runs  over  with  blessings.  My  people  are 
 so  kind,  it  makes  me  utterly  ashamed,  and  Mr.  K.  is  like  a  father 
 to  me  in  every  thing.  But,  instead  of  feeling  grateful,  and  being 
 able  to  glorify  God  for  his  goodness,  I  am  so  overwhelmed  with 
 temptations,  that  I  can  do  nothing  but  sit  still  and  tremble,  lest 
 they  hurry  me  into  some  open  sin,  which  will  bring  dishonor 
 on  the  cross.  O,  my  dearest  mother,  do  pity  me,  and  pray  for 
 me;  for  I  am  sifted  like  wheat." 
 
 The  customs  of  society  often  render  a  minister's  presence 
 unavoidable  on  public  occasions  or  celebrations  of  a  nature  not 
 easily  defined,  but  which  are  of  a  mixed  character,  partly  secu- 
 lar, and  partly  religious.  But  Mr.  Payson  would  never  degrade 
 his  official  character.  Wherever  he  was  present,  there  the  am- 
 bassador of  Christ  "stood  confest."  He  never  would  consent 
 to  be  the  mere  amusing  companion,  or  entertaining  speaker. 
 Those  whom  he  addressed,  whatever  the  occasion,  were  remind-, 
 ed  that  they  were  probationers  for  eternity.  Very  pleasing  evi- 
 dence of  this  has  been  found  in  some  copious  remnants  of  a 
 performance,  which,  in  March  of  this  year,  he  addressed  to  a 
 Musical  Society.  Who  would  look  for  a  proof  of  the  existence 
 and  perfections  of  God  on  such  an  occasion?  for  a  history  of  the 
 apostacy  of  angels  —  of  the  fall  and  recovery  of  man  —  and  of 
 the  ultimate  destination  and  employment  of  redeemed  sinners  1 
 Yet  all  this,  "in  strains  as  sweet  as  angels  use,"  was  wrought 
 into  an  address  on  music.  Were  it  his  object  to  pronounce  an 
 encomium  on  Music,  he  niight,  he  observes  in  the  introduction, 
 from  the  ample  materials  furnished  by  orators,  poets,  historians, 
 and  philosophers,  of  past  ages,  "easily  compose  a  rich  and  im- 
 fading  wreath  of  applause,  with  which  to  encircle  and  adorn 
 her  brows."  But, 
 
 "Without  resorting  to  the  hyperbolical  expressions  of  poetry, 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 175 
 
 or  to  the  dreams  and  fables  of  pagan  mythology,  to  the  wonders 
 said  to  be  performed  by  the  lyre  of  Amphion,  and  the  harp  of 
 Orpheus,  —  I  might  place  before  you  the  prophet  of  Jehovah, 
 composing  his  ruffled  spirits  by  the  soothing  influence  of  music, 
 that  he  might  be  suitably  prepared  to  receive  a  message  from 
 the  Lord  of  Hosts  I  might  present  to  your  view  the  evil 
 spirit,  by  which  jealous  and  melancholy  Saul  was  afilicted,  fly- 
 ing, batfled  and  defeated,  from  the  animating  and  harmonious 
 tones  of  David's  harp.  I  might  show  you  the  same  David,  the 
 defender  and  avenger  of  his  flock,  the  champion  and  bulwark 
 of  his  country,  the  conqueror  of  Goliath,  the  greatest  warrior 
 and  monarch  of  his  age,  laying  down  the  sword  and  the  scep- 
 tre to  take  up  his  harp,  and  exchanging  the  titles  of  victor  and 
 king  for  the  more  honorable  title  of  the  sweet  Psalmist  of 
 
 Israel  But  I  appear  not  before  you  as  her  advocate ; 
 
 for  in  that  character  my  exertions  would  be  superfluous.  She 
 is  present  to  speak  for  herself,  and  assert  her  own  claims  to 
 our  notice  and  approbation.  You  have  heard  her  voice  in  the 
 performances  of  this  evening ;  and  those  of  you,  whom  the  God 
 of  nature  has  favored  with  a  capacity  of  feeling  and  under- 
 standing her  eloquent  language,  will,  I  trust,  acknoweledge  that 
 she  has  pleaded  her  own  cause  with  triumphant  success ;  has 
 given  sensible  demonstration,  that  she  can  speak,  not  only  to 
 the  ear,  but  to  the  heart;  and  that  she  possesses  irresistible 
 power  to  soothe,  delight,  and  fascinate  the  soul.  Nor  was  it  to 
 the  senses  alone  that  she  spake;  but  while,  in  harmonious 
 sounds  she  maintained  her  claims,  and  asserted  her  powers;  in 
 a  slill  and  small,  but  convincing  voice,  she  addressed  herself 
 directly  to  reason  and  conscience,  proclaiming  the  most  solemn 
 and  important  truths ;  truths  v/hich  perhaps  some  of  you  did 
 not  hear  or  regard,  but  which  deserve  and  demand  our  most 
 
 serious  attention  With  the  same  irresistible  evidence  as  if 
 
 an  angel  had  spoken  from  heaven,  she  said.  There  is  a  God, 
 and  that  God  is  good  and  benevolent.  For,  my  friends,  who 
 but  God  could  have  tuned  the  human  voice,  and  given  harmony 
 to  sounds  ?  Who,  but  a  good  and  benevolent  God,  would  have 
 given  us  senses  capable  of  perceiving  and  enjoying  this  harmo- 
 ny? Who,  but  such  a  being,  would  have  opened  a  way  through 
 the  ear,  for  its  passage  to  the  soul?  Could  blind  chance  have 
 produced  these  wonders  of  wisdom?   or  a  malignant  being, 
 
176 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 these  miracles  of  goodness?  Could  they  have  caused  this  ad- 
 mirable fitness  between  harmony  of  sounds,  and  the  organs  of 
 sense  by  which  it  is  perceived '?  No.  They  would  have  either 
 given  us  no  senses,  or  left  them  imperfect,  or  rendered  every 
 sound  discordant  and  harsh.  With  the  utmost  propriety,  there- 
 fore, may  Jehovah  ask,  Who  hath  made  man's  mouth,  and 
 planted  the  ear?  Have  not  I,  the  Lord?  With  the  utmost 
 justice,  also,  may  he  demand  of  us,  that  all  our  musical  powers 
 and  faculties  should  be  consecrated  to  his  service,  and  employed 
 in  celebrating  his  praises.  To  urge  you  diligently  and  cheer- 
 fully to  perform  this  pleasing,  reasonable,  and  indispensable 
 duty,  is  the  principal  object  of  the  speaker.  Not,  then,  as  the 
 advocate  of  music,  but  as  the  ambassador  of  that  God,  whoso 
 being  and  benevolence  music  proclaims,  do  I  now  address  this 
 assembly,  entreating  every  individual,  without  delay,  to  adopt 
 and  practise  the  resolution  of  the  royal  Psalmist  —  'l.will  sing 
 unto  the  Lord  as  long  as  I  live;  I  will  sing  praise  to  my  God 
 while  I  have  my  being'."    Ps.  civ.  33. 
 
 He  then  carries  his  hearers  back  to  the  origin  of  the  world, 
 when  "every  thing  was  very  good,"  and  "all  creation  harmon- 
 ized together.  All  its  parts,  animate  and  inanimate,  like  the 
 voices  and  instruments  of  a  well  regulated  concert,  helped  to 
 compose  a  perfect  and  beautiful  whole ;  and  so  exquisite  was 
 the  harmony  thus  produced,  that  in  the  whole  compass  of  crea- 
 tion, not  one  jarring  or  discordant  note  was  heard,  even  by  the 
 
 perfect  ear  of  God  himself  The  blessed  angels  of  light 
 
 began  the  universal  chorus,  '  when  the  morning  stars  sang  to- 
 gether, and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy.'"  He  describes 
 "the  music  of  the  spheres" — the  part  which  the  heavenly  bod- 
 ies performed  in  the  concert — and  descends,  through  the  ani- 
 mate creation,  down  to  the  meanest  thing  that  hath  life  : — 
 
 "  E'en  the  dumb  fish,  that  swam  the  flood, 
 Leaped  up,  and  meant  the  praise  of  God." 
 
 "Of  this  universal  concert,  man  was  appointed  the  terrestrial 
 leader,  and  was  furnished  with  natural  and  moral  powers, 
 admirably  fitted  for  this  blessed  and  glorious  employment.  His 
 body,  exempt  from  dissolution,  disease,  and  decay,  was  like  a 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 177 
 
 perfect  and  well-strung  instrument,  which  never  gave  forth  a 
 false  or  uncertain  sound,  but  always  answered,  with  exact  pre- 
 cision, the  wishes  of  his  nobler  part,  the  soul.  His  heart  did 
 not  then  belie  his  tongue,  when  he  sung  the  praises  of  his  Crea- 
 tor; but  all  the  emotions  felt  by  the  one  were  expressed  by  the 
 other,  from  the  high  notes  of  ecstatic  admiration,  thankfulness, 
 and  joy,  down  to  the  deep  tones  of  the  most  profound  venera- 
 tion and  humility-.  In  a  word,  his  heart  was  the  throne  of  ce- 
 lestial love  and  harmony,  and  his  tongue  at  once  the  organ  of 
 their  will,  and  the  sceptre  of  their  power. 
 
 "  We  are  told,  in  ancient  story,  of  a  statue,  formed  with  such 
 Avonderful  art,  that  whenever  it  was  visited  by  the  rays  of  the 
 rising  sun,  it  gave  forth,  in  honor  of  that  luminary,  the  most 
 melodious  and  ravishing  sounds.  In  like  manner,  man  was 
 originally  so  constituted  by  skill  divine,  that,  whenever  he  con- 
 templated the  rays  of  wisdom,  power,  and  goodness,  emanating 
 from  the  great  Sun  of  the  moral  system,  the  ardent  emotions  of 
 his  soul  spontaneously  burst  forth  in  the  most  pure  and  exalted 
 strains  of  adoration  and  praise.  Such  was  the  world,  such 
 ■was  man,  at  the  creation.  Even  in  the  eye  of  the  Creator,  all 
 was  good ;  for,  wherever  he  turned,  he  saw  only  his  own  im- 
 age, and  heard  nothing  but  his  own  praises.  Love  beamed 
 from  every  countenance;  harmony  reigned  in  every  breast,  and 
 flowed  mellifluous  from  every  tongue  ;  and  the  grand  chorus  of 
 praise,  begun  by  raptured  seraphs  round  the  throne,  and  heard 
 from  heaven  to  earth,  was  re-echoed  back  from  earth  to  heaven  ; 
 and  this  blissful  sound,  loud  as  the  archangel's  trump,  and 
 sweet  as  the  '  melody  of  his  golden  harp,  rapidly  spread,  and 
 was  received  from  world  to  world,  and  floated,  in  gently-undu- 
 lating waves,  even  to  the  farthest  bounds  of  creation." 
 
 To  this  primeval  harmony,  he  exhibits  the  lamentable  con- 
 trast which  followed,  when  sin  "untuned  the  tongues  of  angels, 
 and  changed  their  blissful  songs  of  praise  into  the  groans  of 
 wretchedness,  the  execrations  of  malignity,  the  blasphemies  of 
 impiety,  and  the  ravings  of  despair.  Storms  and  tempests, 
 earthquakes  and  convulsions,  fire  from  above,  and  deluges  from 
 beneath,  which  destroyed  the  order  of  the  natural  world,  proved 
 that  its  baleful  influence  had  reached  our  earth,  and  afforded 
 a  faint  emblem  of  the  jars  and  disorders  which  sin  had  intro- 
 duced into  the  moral  system.    Man's  corporeal  part,  that  lyre 
 
 VOL,  I.  23 
 
i78 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 of  a  thousand  strings,  tuned  by  the  finger  of  God  himself,  des- 
 tined to  last  as  long  as  the  soul,  and  to  be  her  instrument  in 
 offering  up  eternal  praise,  was,  at  one  blow,  shattered,  unstrung, 
 and  almost  irreparably  ruined.  His  soul,  all  whose  powers 
 and  faculties,  like  the  chords  of  an  ^olian  harp,  once  harmo- 
 niously vibrated  to  every  breath  of  the  divine  Spirit,  and  ever 
 returned  a  sympathizing  sound  to  the  tones  of  kindness  and 
 love  from  a  fellow-being,  now  became  silent,  and  insensible  to 
 melody,  or  produced  only  the  jarring  and  discordant  notes  of 
 envy,  malice,  hatred,  and  revenge.  The  mouth,  filled  with 
 cursing  and  bitterness,  was  set  against  the  heavens;  the  tongue 
 vv^as  inflamed  with  the  fire  of  hell.  Every  voice,  instead  of 
 uniting  in  the  song  of  '  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,'  was  now 
 at  variance  with  the  voices  around  it,  and,  in  barbarous  and 
 dissonant  strains,  sung  praise  to  itself,  or  was  employed  iu 
 muttering  sullen  murmurs  against  the  Most  High — in  vent- 
 ing slanders  against  fellow-creatures — in  celebrating  and  deify- 
 ing some  worthless  idol,  or  in  singing  the  triumphs  of  intem- 
 perance, dissipation,  and  excess.  The  noise  of  violence  and 
 cruelty  was  heard  mingled  with  the  boasting  of  the  oppressor, 
 and  the  cry  of  the  oppressed,  and  the  complaints  of  the 
 wretched;  while  the  shouts  of  embattled  hosts,  the  crash  of 
 arms,  the  brazen  clangor  of  trumpets,  the  shrieks  of  the  wound- 
 ed, the  groans  of  the  dying,  and  all  the  horrid  din  of  war,  to- 
 gether with  the  wailings  of  those  whom  it  had  rendered  widows 
 and  orphans,  overwhelmed  and  drowned  every  somid  of  benev- 
 olence, praise,  and  love.  Such  is  the  jargon  which  sin  has 
 introduced^ — such  the  discord  which,  from  every  quarter  of  our 
 globe,  has  long  ascended  up  into  the  ears  of  the  Lord  of  hosts." 
 
 He  next  adverts  to  the  mission  of  Jesus  Christ,  followed  by 
 the  descent  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  restore  harmony,  when 
 "  those  benevolent  beings,  who  celebrated  tlie  birth-day  of  cre- 
 ation, joined  with  tenfold  transports  in  singing  glory  to  God  in 
 the  highest,  that  there  was  again  on  earth  peace  and  good  will 
 to  men,  and  that  the  vacancy  which  sin  had  occasioned  among 
 the  choirs  and  armies  of  heaven  would  soon  be  filled  by  indi- 
 viduals selected  from  the  human  race  and  taught  to  sing  the 
 song  of  the  Lamb,  by  the  influences  of  the  Spirit  of  harmony 
 himself    To  teach  mankind  this  sacred  song,  and  thus  prepare 
 
EDWARD  FAYSON. 
 
 179 
 
 mem  lo  fill  the  places  and  perform  the  offices  of  those  angels 
 who  kept  not  their  first  estate,  is  the  great  object  of  God  in  the 
 preservation  of  the  world,  in  its  various  revolutions,  and  in  all 
 the  dispensations  of  his  providence  and  grace  ;  while  to  learn 
 it  comprises  our  duty  here,  as  to  sing  it  will  constitute  our  em- 
 ployment and  happiness  hereafter.  This  song,  however,  which 
 St.  John  heard  sung  upon  Mount  Zion  by  the  one  hundred  and 
 forty  and  four  thousand,  can  be  taught  by  none  but  the  Spirit 
 of  God."  —  He  then  urges  the  importance  of  piety  in  singers, 
 especially  such  as  lead  in  this  part  of  worship,  and  enforces  the 
 duty  of  parents  to  cultivate  musical  talents  in  their  children. 
 "Were  this  duty  duly  performed,  from  proper  motives,  we 
 should  soon  see  a  sight  which  was  perhaps  never  seen  on  earth  ; 
 a  whole  assembly  employed  .in  singing  praise  to  God.  But,  as 
 this  pleasing  sight  is  probably  reserved  for  the  celestial  world, 
 let  the  leaders  in  this  delightful  part  of  religious  worship  re- 
 member, that  if  holiness  becomes  God's  house  forever  —  if  it  is 
 required  that  those  who  bear  the  vessels  of  the  Lord  should  be 
 holy — much  more  is  it  required  of  those  who  are  the  mouth  of 
 his  people  in  singing  his  praise."  In  a  solemn  application,  he 
 carries  his  hearers  forward  to  the  time  when  "  every  tongue  iu 
 the  assembly  will  be  employed  in  praising  or  blaspheming, 
 every  individual  be  an  angel  or  a  demon." 
 
 There  is  a  luxuriance  in  his  style,  at  the  time  of  writing  this 
 address,  which  Avas  considerably  chastened  in  latter  years. 
 Taken  as  a  whole,  the  performance,  while  it  was  in  perfect  uni- 
 son with  the  occasion,  was  admirably  adapted  to  promote  the 
 great  object  which  was  always  uppermost  in  his  mind,  and  may 
 serve  as  a  specimen  of  his  talent  for  making  every  occasion 
 speak  with  force  to  the  consciences  of  men. 
 
 Bodily  infirmity  continued  still  to  cramp  and  repress  his  en- 
 ergies, and  he  had  already  "  been  assured  by  his  physician, 
 that  his  complaints  were  mortal." 
 
 "April  26.  Was  excessively  weak,  so  that  I  could  do 
 nothing  to  any  purpose.  Longed  to  lay  my  feeble  body  in  the 
 grave,  where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary 
 are  at  rest;  not  that  I  was  weary  of  God's  service,  if  I  could 
 serve  him  with  more  strength  and  sincerity ;  but  my  mind  sunk 
 under  the  weakness  of  my  body." 
 
180 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "Portland,  May  11,  1809. 
 
  "The  Spirit  seems  still  to  accompany  the  word  among 
 
 us,  and  the  attention  to  religion  is  rather  increasing.  Several 
 new  instances  of  conviction  have  occurred  lately,  which  now 
 bid  fair  to  be  abiding.  *  *  *  * 
 
 "  We  have,  this  year,  twenty  tithingmen,  instead  of  ten  last 
 year,  and  none  the  year  before ;  and  are  in  a  fair  way  to  have 
 the  town  reformed,  at  least  externally.  Several  of  the  most 
 conspicuous  leaders  in  the  race  of  pleasure  and  fashion  have 
 lately  become  more  serious,  and  we  are  hoping  their  example 
 will  be  followed  by  others.  The  grand  jury,  also,  begin  to 
 perform  their  duty,  in  presenting  parishes  that  have  no  preach- 
 ing, and  shutting  up  tippling  shops  and  bad  houses.  We  are, 
 therefore,  encouraged  to  hope  that  God,  by  thus  removing  some 
 of  our  external  spots  and  pollutions,  is  preparing  the  way  foi 
 an  inward,  real  reformation.  There  seems,  also,  to  be  a  hear- 
 ing ear,  and  our  meetings  on  the  Sabbath  are  unusually  crowded, 
 and  the  church  seems  to  be  unusually  humbled  under  a  sense 
 of  their  deficiencies.  The  state  of  my  health  still  continues  a 
 rlog  upon  me  ;  but  it  is  a  great  mercy,  and  I  cannot  find  it  in 
 my  heart  to  pray  for  its  removal." 
 
 Before  this  time,  he  had  felt  his  hands  strengthened  by  the 
 settlement  of  a  highly  valued  brother  over  a  church  in  a  neigh- 
 boring town  ;  but  new  trials  awaited  him,  which  put  the  integ- 
 rity of  his  principles  to  the  severest  test.  With  reference  to  an 
 overture,  which  he  could  not  meet  without  sacrificing,  in  his 
 own  view,  his  Master's  honor,  he  observes,  it  was  made, 
 "  hoping,  no  doubt,  either  to  stop  my  mouth,  as  ^Eneas  did 
 that  of  old  Cerberus,  with  this  honey-cake,  or  at  least,  to  dis- 
 cover from  my  answer  how  I  meant  to  conduct."  He  was 
 remarkably  circumspect  in  his  official  conduct,  quick  to  discern 
 the  purport  and  bearings  of  every  act  on  the  interests  of  the 
 church,  and  avoided  every  step  by  which  those  interests  would 
 be  compromitted. 
 
 In  the  summer  of  this  year,  a  minister  was  ordained  over  the 
 first  church  in  Portland.  His  conduct,  in  relation  to  that  trans- 
 action, has  been  the  frequent  topic  of  very  severe  animadver- 
 sion, and  is  not,  even  now,  "  lost  in  silence,  and  forgot."  Justice 
 to  his  memory,  therefore,  requires  that  the  grounds  upon  which 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 181 
 
 he  proceeded  should  be  known.  The  first  reference  to  the 
 affair  is  contained  in  a  letter,  which  bears  date  not  naany  days 
 before  the  ordination,  and  is  in  these  words:  —  "One  of  the 
 deacons  came  to  me,  representing  it  as  the  wish,  not  only  of 
 Mr.  ,  but  of  the  church,  that  there  might  be  harmony  be- 
 tween the  churches,  and  that  I  would  give  him  the  right  hand. 
 
 I  told  him  that  I  was  much  obliged  to  Mr.  ,  and  to  the 
 
 church :  that  I  wished  for  harmony  as  much  as  they  possibly 
 could ;  but  that  it  belonged  to  the  Council  to  assign  the  parts, 
 and  that  no  one  could  pledge  himself  to  perform  any  part,  at  an 
 ordination,  till  he  was  acquainted  with  the  candidate,  and 
 knew  what  were  the  sentiments  he  intended  to  inculcate." 
 After  stating  the  deacon's  reply,  expressing  his  confidence  iu 
 the  sentiments  and  character  of  the  man,  the  latter  proceeds ; 
 "I  told  him,  we  could  better  form  an  opinion  of  the  candidate 
 when  he  came  before  the  Council ;  and  that  I  hoped  we  should 
 find  nothing  in  his  conduct  or  belief,  which  would  occasion 
 any  difiiculty ;  and  so  we  parted.  How  it  will  end,  it  is  im- 
 possible to  say." 
 
 This  is  not  the  language  of  a  prejudiced  mind,  condemning 
 a  man  unheard,  and  "  taking  up  a  report  against  his  neighbor;" 
 but  of  one  who  had  learned  the  apostolic  lesson,  "judge  nothing 
 before  the  time."  No  other  course  would  have  been  equally 
 proper  and  scriptural.  His  principles  of  conduct,  in  this  case 
 will  bear  the  strictest  scrutiny.  Later  still,  he  thus  adverts  to 
 the  subject : — 
 
 "  The  ordination  is  just  at  hand,  and  engrosses  universal 
 attention  in  town. — The  candidate  is  a  fine  scholar,  has  an 
 
 amiable  disposition  and  has  treated  me  in  that  frank, 
 
 open,  friendly  manner,  which  is  just  calculated  to  win  me  over 
 to  his  side.  Add  to  this,  that  both  his  society  and  mine  are 
 anxious  that  the  old  enmity  between  the  two  parishes  may  now 
 be  done  away,  since  two  young  men  are  placed  over  them. 
 But  I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  act  as  duty  requires." 
 
 Here,  certainly,  was  a  combination  of  motives,  powerful  be- 
 yond all  others,  to  influence  a  man  situated  as  he  was.  Nothing, 
 which  he  could  do,  would  have  so  immediately  raised  him  hr 
 
182 
 
 MEMOIR    0  r 
 
 the  popular  estimation,  as  to  have  approved  and  taken  part  in 
 the  ordination.  The  excellent  general  character,  and  distin- 
 guished attainments  of  the  candidate,  which  he  was  quick  to 
 perceive,  and  forward  to  appreciate,  the  interesting  relations  of 
 the  two  societies,  the  almost  universal  wish,  and  the  equally 
 extensive  disappointment  and  chagrin,  Avhich  would  follow 
 upon  his  dissent,  and  numerous  other  circumstances,  pleaded 
 with  an  eloquence,  which  it  required  a  martyr's  firmness  to  re- 
 sist. Bat  it  was  not  a  question  for  mere  feelings  to  decide. 
 There  was  a  higher  umpire.  He  had  derived  his  instructions 
 from  an  infallible  source,  and  they  left  him  no  discretionary 
 power  in  the  case.  The  same  authority  had  prescribed  the 
 qualifications  of  "  a  good  minister  of  Jesus  Christ."  Nor  had 
 he  forgotten  the  caution,  which,  in  circumstances  of  peculiar 
 solemnity,  had  been  enforced  upon  him  respecting  the  exercise 
 of  one  of  the  most  important  prerogatives  conferred  by  his  com- 
 mission. The  result  of  the  examination,  and  of  a  comparison, 
 in  this  instance,  of  what  was  developed  with  the  requisitions 
 of  God's  word,  was  a  firm  conviction  that  he  could  not  co-oper- 
 ate with  the  Council  in  the  ordination.  Nor  did  he,  like  some 
 others,  merely  decline  to  act ;  he  raised  his  hand  against  pro- 
 ceeding. He  did  not  only  evade  responsibility  on  the  one  hand, 
 but  he  assumed  it  on  the  other.  His  opposition  was  open  and 
 manly ;  and  he  found,  in  an  approving  conscience,  a  satisfac- 
 tion, which  was  cheaply  purchased  by  the  temporary  loss  of 
 popular  favor,  and  by  suffering  all  the  odium,  which,  in  conse- 
 quence of  that  act,  he  incurred.  He  thus  alludes  to  it  in  a 
 letter  to  his  father  :  — 
 
 The  ordination  is  over  I  shall  not  trouble  you 
 
 with  an  account  of  the  good-natured  speeches  Avhich  are  made 
 respecting  my  conduct.  You  can  easily  conceive  of  them,  and 
 will  join  with  me  in  rejoicing,  that  I  share  the  blessedness  of 
 those,  concerning  whom  all  manner  of  evil  is  spoken,  falsely, 
 for  Christ's  sake.  It  will  only  be  a  nine  days'  wonder  to  the 
 good  folks  and  gossips,  who  Avill  lament,  in  very  pathetic 
 strains,  that  Mr.  Payson  should  have  such  bigoted,  narrow, 
 party  views,  and  that  there  cannot  be  harmony  and  peace  be- 
 tween the  two  churches." 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 183 
 
 Time,  instead  of  reversing,  has  confirmed  the  correctness  of 
 his  decision.  The  diflerence  between  his  creed  and  that  which 
 he  opposed,  is  now  generally  admitted,  by  the  adherents  of 
 both,  to  be  as  wide  as  Mr.  Payson  made  it.  He  was  a  magnan- 
 imous opponent,  who  did  not  allow  a  diflerence  of  opinion  to 
 interrupt  "the  charities  of  life  ;"  and  his  conduct  in  this  respect 
 was  reciprocated. — We  now  return  to  his  letters. 
 
 "  June  5,  1809. 
 
 "  My  deakest  mother  : — You  judged  right  with  respect  to  my 
 anxiety  to  hear  from  home ;  for  after  the  first  of  your  letters, 
 giving  an  account  of  my  father's  illness,  arrived,  1  could  scarce- 
 ly rest  till  the  arrival  of  the  other ;  and  had  it  not  been  for  the 
 approaching  ordination,  and  some  promising  appearances 
 among  my  people,  I  should,  ere  this,  have  been  at  home.  I 
 must  confess  that  I  am  surprised,  as  well  as  grieved,  that  father 
 should  persist  in  preaching,  when  it  is  so  clearly  and  indispen- 
 sably his  duty  to  desist ;  especially  after  the  admonitions  he 
 has  given  me  on  that  subject.  He  would  see  and  allow,  with 
 respect  to  any  person  in  the  same  situation,  that  it  was  wrong 
 to  preach.  Perhaps  my  language  may  appear  almost  disre- 
 spectful ;  but  on  this  subject,  I  am  too  nearly  interested,  to  use 
 the  cold  language  of  strict  propriety.  I  cannot  be  silent ;  and 
 should  the  consequences  which  I  fear  result  from  his  preaching, 
 it  would  ever  be  with  me  a  subject  of  bitter  regret,  that  I  had 
 not  done  all  in  my  power  to  prevent  it.  He  must  desist.  It  is 
 a  duty  which  he  owes  himself,  his  family,  his  people,  and  his 
 God,  to  desist;  for  preaching  now  will  be  his  death;  and  his 
 family  and  people  will  repent  too  late,  if  they  do  not  prevail 
 upon  him  not  to  preach  again  till  he  is  better.  Mark  my  words, 
 for  I  will  have  nothing  to  reproach  myself  with,  be  the  conse- 
 quences what  they  may.  If  I  were  at  home,  he  should  walk 
 over  my  body,  before  he  could  get  into  the  pulpit.  Excuse  me, 
 my  dear  mother,  and  plead  with  him  to  pardon  my  boldness; 
 but  I  am  distressed  with  the  bare  apprehension  of  what  the 
 consequence  may  be." 
 
 "July  7. 
 
 "My  health  continues  to  mend,  though  slowly.  I  get  over 
 the  fatigue  of  preaching  much  sooner  than  I  did,  and  my  food 
 
184 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 and  sleep  nourish  and  refresh  me,  which  has  not  been  the  case 
 till  lately.  The  religious  attention  appears  rather  to  increase 
 than  diminish ;  but  though  it  is  pleasant  to  see  inquirers,  yet 
 the  constant  anxiety  which  they  occasion,  lest  they  should  go 
 back,  is  exceedingly  painful,  and  wears  upon  nature.  1  know 
 it  is  wrong  thus  to  take  Christ's  wpxk  out  of  his  hands,  and  to 
 perplex  myself  respecting  events,  over  which  I  have  no  control ; 
 but  as  yet  I  cannot  wholly  refrain,  though  the  fault,  like  most 
 faults,  carries  its  own  punishment  with  it.  I  am  at  present, 
 unless  greatly  deceived,  in  the  worst  part  of  the  Christian  race. 
 My  people  love  me,  but  I  cannot  enjoy  their  kindness,  lest, 
 instead  of  rendering  me  thankful,  it  should  only  feed  pride.  I 
 can  take  no  pleasure  in  any  success  that  attends  my  labors  for 
 similar  reasons.  I  am  surrounded  with  blessings  more  than  I 
 should  have  dared  to  hope  for  ;  but  this  accursed  sin  turns  them 
 all  to  poison  and  bitterness.  Were  it  not  for  this,  how  happy 
 might  I  be !  But,  blessed  be  God,  this  shows  me,  more  and 
 more  clearly,  what  an  evil  and  bitter  thing  it  is  to  forsake  the 
 Lord  of  Hosts." 
 
 "Portland,  Aug.  1,  1809. 
 "  My  dear  sister  : — My  time  is  so  much  engrossed  by  paro- 
 chial affairs,  that,  till  this  moment,  I  have  had  no  leisure  to 
 write,  and  must  now  steal  time  from  other  things  which  require 
 my  attention.  You  can  have  no  conception,  unless  you  Avere 
 present,  how  my  time  is  taken  up.  Every  moment  is  mortga- 
 ged before  it  arrives,  and,  notwithstanding  all  my  exertions,  the 
 business  seems  to  grow  upon  my  hands ;  so  that  I  am  ready  to 
 sit  down  in  despair,  and  do  nothing.  If  every  day  was  as  long 
 as  ten,  there  would  be  ample  employment  for  every  hour.  I 
 find  scarcely  any  time  to  read  or  study,  and  am  constrained  to 
 go  into  the  pulpit  with  discourses  so  undigested,  that  my  pride 
 is  continually  mortified  ;  and  though  it  lies  groaning  and  bleed- 
 ing under  continual  wounds,  it  will  not  be  persuaded  to  give  up 
 the  ghost.  However,  so  long  as  God  is  pleased  to  carry  on  his 
 work  with  such  discourses,  1  have  no  right  to  complain  or  be 
 discouraged  ;  since,  the  feebler  the  means,  the  more  he  is  glori- 
 fied. And  I  hope  that,  some  time  or  other,  I  shall  learn  to  be 
 willing  to  be  counted  a  fool,  that  aU  the  glory  may  redound  to 
 his  wisdom.  But  this  is  a  hard  lesson  to  learn.  To  be  wiUing 
 to  be  nothing,  to  rejoice  to  be  nothing,  that  God  may  be  all  in 
 
ED WAK  D    P AYSON. 
 
 185 
 
 all ;  to  glory  in  infirmities,  that  the  power  of  Christ  may  rest 
 upon  us, — this  is  the  temper  which  I  pine  and  hunger  after ; 
 but,  alas !  it  appears  at  a  distance  so  great,  that  I  despair  of  ever 
 reaching  any  where  near  it  in  this  world.  If  we  could  put  God 
 entirely  in  the  place  of  self,  consider  his  will  as  our  will,  his 
 honor  as  our  honor,  his  happiness  as  our  happiness,  his  interest 
 as  our  interest,  and  pursue  it  accordingly,  how  happy  should  we 
 be  !  And  how  happy  shall  we  be  in  that  world,  where  this  will 
 be  the  case,  and  where  the  very  stump  of  that  Dagon,  self,  will 
 not  be  permitted  to  remain  in  our  hearts,  as  the  rival  of  our 
 blessed  Redeemer.  O,  to  be  holy  as  God  is  holy — this  is  to  be 
 happy,  according  to  our  measure,  as  God  is  happy.  Strive  then, 
 my  dear,  dear  sister,  strive,  wrestle,  pray,  long  and  pant  after 
 holiness.  If  I  cannot  be  holy  myself,  yet  I  long  to  see  others 
 holy.  If  I  cannot  love  and  praise  the  ever-blessed  Redeemer,  it 
 is  almost  heaven  sufficient  to  see  him  loved  and  praised  by  oth- 
 ers. If  we  could  render  to  him  according  to  his  benefits  ! — but 
 we  cannot,  we  cannot ;  we  must  be  content  to  be,  as  it  were, 
 crushed  to  all  eternity  under  an  insupportable  weight  of  good- 
 ness ;  for  even  the  disposition  to  praise  him  for  favors  already 
 received,  is  a  new  favor,  which  still  adds  to  the  mighty  debt ; 
 and  the  faster  he  enables  us  to  render  back  what  we  receive,  so 
 much  the  faster  do  our  obligations  increase.  And  yet,  instead 
 of  praising  him,  we  are  constantly  sinning.  I  hope  it  is  not  so 
 bad  with  others,  but,  with  respect  to  myself,  there  seems  to  be 
 constant  strife  between  him  and  me,  whether  I  shall  exceed  in 
 provoking,  or  he  in  pardoning ;  whether  I  shall  succeed  in  des- 
 troying myself  by  my  own  madness  and  folly  against  his  will, 
 or  he  succeed  in  saving  me  in  spite  of  myself  But  in  this  strife 
 he  still  conquers,  and  will  conquer.  I  have  done  every  thing  to 
 provoke  him  to  leave  me ;  but  he  will  not  be  provoked.  He 
 will  still  return  to  humble  me,  and  shame  me  ;  and  I  am  ready 
 to  call  on  the  rocks  and  mountains  to  fall  on  me,  and  hide  me 
 from  the  tender,  expostulating,  heart-breaking,  soul -subduing 
 glances  of  his  eye,  which  fill  me  with  such  shame  and  confu- 
 sion, that  it  seems  as  if  I  could  more  easily  endure  the  light- 
 nings of  his  indignation.  Were  all  his  people  like  me,  and 
 were  justice  done  upon  them,  surely  they  would  be  sentenced 
 to  some  hell  more  dreadful  than  that  which  is  prepared  for 
 others. 
 
 VOL.  I.  24 
 
186 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "  We  have  still  considerable  attention  to  religion.  The 
 number  of  inquirers  is  upwards  of  forty,  and  many  more  are 
 serious.  We  had  hoped  for  hundreds  ere  this ;  but  God  keeps 
 us  waiting,  and  praying,  and  still  gives  a  spirit  of  prayer." 
 
 "Portland,  Sept.  22,  1809. 
 
 "  My  dearest  mother  : — The  attention  to  religion  still  con- 
 tinues. Last  communion,  we  admitted  eleven  to  the  church, 
 and  next  Sabbath  we  shall  admit  twelve  more.  The  appetite 
 for  hearing  seems  insatiable,  andour  assemblies  are  more  crowded 
 than  ever.  Many  have  lately  joined  us.  However,  the  gospel 
 proves  a  savor  of  death  unto  death,  as  well  as  of  life  unto  life. 
 Many  seem  to  be  awfully  hardened,  and  many  severe  reflections 
 are  cast  upon  religion  and  its  professors. 
 
 "  After  telling  you  that  religion  thus  flourishes  among  us,  I 
 am  ashamed  to  complain ;  for  what  reason  of  complaint  can  a 
 minister  have,  while  he  sees  the  cause  of  Christ  triumphant  7 
 Nor  do  I  complain  of  anything  except  myself  Every  earthly 
 thing  is  imbittered  to  me,  and  the  enjoyments  of  religion  aro  , 
 kept  far  above  my  reach.  I  am  overwhelmed  by  one  Avave  of 
 temptation  after  another.  My  bodily  powers  are  kept  in  such  a 
 continual  state  of  exhaustion,  and  my  nerves  are  so  weak,  that 
 mole-hills  appear  to  be  mountains,  and  I  am  ready  to  stumble  at 
 a  straw ;  and  when  imaginary  evils  disappear,  I  find  real  per- 
 plexities and  difliculties,  which  weigh  me  down  in  the  dust.  I 
 know,  indeed,  that  all  these  things  are  necessary;  and  when  I 
 am  left  in  my  own  possession,  I  would  not  wish  to  have  my 
 burden  lightened.  At  times,  too,  I  am  '  holpen  with  a  little 
 help,'  so  that,  though  cast  down,  I  am  not  utterly  destroyed. 
 But  how  desperate,  how  inconceivable,  must  be  the  wickedness 
 of  that  heart,  which  draws  down  such  sufferings  from  the  hand 
 of  the  compassionate  Saviour,  and  requires  such  painful  reme- 
 dies to  heal  It." 
 
 "  Portland,  Nov.  1,  1809. 
 "  My  dear  sister  : — It  is  no  small  disappointment  to  me,  and 
 I  flatter  myself  that  it  will  be  some  disappointment  to  yon,  that 
 I  am  under  the  necessity  of  sending  this  inanimate  scroll,  to  see 
 and  inquire  after  you,  instead  of  coming  myself,  as  I  expected, 
 and  partly  promised.  But  my  health  does  not  absolutely  require 
 a  journey  this  season ;  and  my  engagements  are  such,  that  I 
 
EDWARD    PA  YSON. 
 
 187 
 
 know  not  how  to  be  absent  a  single  day.  In  the  first  place,  the 
 situation  of  the  parivsh  requires  my  presence.  The  people  still 
 have  a  hearing  ear,  but  there  is  more  opposition,  more  attempts 
 to  mislead  young  converts,  and  turn  aside  inquirers,  than  for- 
 merly ;  and  therefore,  I  wish  to  be  with  them.  Besides,  the 
 neighboring  ministers  are  stirred  up  to  more  diligence  and  atten- 
 tion. They  have  lately  adopted  the  custom  of  keeping  days  of 
 fasting  and  prayer,  and  inviting  in  a  number  of  preachers  ;  and 
 I  have  some  engagements  of  this  kind,  just  now,  which  I  am 
 unwilling  to  leave.  We  have  already  had  three  days  of  this 
 kind  in  three  of  the  neighboring  towns,  and  hope  to  extend  it 
 through  the  whole  association.  We  are  just  establishing  a  Bible 
 Society,  also,  and  this  employs  considerable  time  at  present; 
 so  tliat,  with  these  and  other  things  which  require  attention,  I 
 am  too  much  engaged  to  leave  home ;  and  I  trnst  you  will  not 
 suspect  my  affection  diminishes,  because  I,  at  this  time,  prefer 
 duty  to  pleasure. 
 
 "  My  hopes  respecting  increase.  He  tells  his  peo- 
 ple some  solenan  truths;  and  a  lawyer  from  ******,  who  was 
 formerly  acquainted  v/ith  him,  says  he  is  spoilt,  and  that,  though 
 he  used  to  be  a  good  rational  preacher,  he  is  in  a  fair  way  to 
 become  an  enthusiast.  What  a  glorious  instance  of  sovereign 
 mercy  it  would  be,  should  God  bless  that  parish  with  a  faithful 
 minister  ! 
 
 •'The  cause  of  evangelical  religion  is  certainly  gaining  ground 
 in  this  eastern  country.  Mr.  J.  of  B.,  on  whom  the  liberal  party 
 placed  great  reliance,  has  lately  come  out  full  on  the  side  of  or- 
 thodoxy.   President  A.  was  thought  to  be  wavering,  but  he  is 
 
 now  quite  decided ;  and  if  Mr.  does  not  disappoint 
 
 our  hopes,  I  think  the  *****  ******  will  lose  all  hopes  of  lib- 
 eralizing the  District  of  Maine.  Violent  and  systematic 
 attempts,  however,  are  making  here  i^  opposition  to  truth. 
 Pamphlets  are  circulated  to  prove  that  all  the  hard  texts  in  the 
 Bible  refer  to  primitive  times;  and  the  new  Socinian  translation 
 of  the  New  Testament  threatens  to  produce  mischief;  but, 
 while  the  enemy  comes  in  as  a  flood,  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is 
 lifting  up  a  standard  against  him.  Within  two  years,  five 
 orthodox  ministers  have  been  settled,  or  are  about  settling,  in 
 this  association,  which  includes  the  county  of  Cumberland,  and 
 many  others  preach  very  different  doctrine  from  Avhat  they  for- 
 merly did." 
 
188 
 
 BI  E  M  O  I  R  OF 
 
 His  afflictive  melancholy  had  now  become  comparatively- 
 harmless  ;  for,  though  it  did  not  cease  to  distress  him,  its  tyran- 
 nical power  was  broken,  and  it  much  less  frequently  impeded 
 his  mental  efforts.  There  is  one  allusion,  however,  to  this  mode 
 of  its  operation,  which  is  peculiarly  characteristic  Was 
 employed  in  vain  attempts  to  prepare  for  lecture.  Did  nothing, 
 all  day,  but  learn  the  old  lesson  over  again,  that  without  Christ 
 I  can  do  nothing.  Were  I  not  the  dullest  of  all  scholars,  I  might 
 spare  my  heavenly  Father  the  trouble  of  teaching  me  this  lesson 
 agam." 
 
 In  his  frequent  seasons  of  illness,  and  his  multiplied  public 
 engagements,  he  saw  cause  of  danger  that  his  private  devotions 
 would  suffer  interruption  or  abatement.  To  guard  against  such 
 an  evil,  appears  to  have  been  one  object  of  the  following  resolu-' 
 tions,  which  were  adopted,  or  renewed,  near  the  close  of  this 
 year: — 
 
 "  1.  I  will,  on  no  pretence  whatever,  omit  reading  the  Scrip- 
 tures, with  prayer,  morning  and  evening. 
 
 "  2.  When  practicable,  I  will  spend  one  day  in  every  week  in 
 fasting  and  prayer. 
 
 "  3.  I  will  allow  but  six  hours  for  sleep. 
 
 "  4.  I  will  endeavor  to  redeem  the  time  by  being  diligent  and 
 fervent  in  business. 
 
 "  5.  I  will  live  more  to  the  glory  of  God  than  I  have  done. 
 
 "  6.  I  will,  every  evening,  review  my  conduct  through  the 
 day,  and  see  how  far  I  have  fulQlled  these  resolutions." 
 
 To  the  peculiar  trials  which  distinguished  this  year,  the  mer- 
 ciful Redeemer  provided  an  antidote  in  the  spiritual  blessings 
 which  he  bestowed.  Under  the  labors  of  his  servant,  sinners 
 were  converted,  and  the  church  was  increased  by  an  addition  of 
 forty-four  members. 
 
CHAPTEE  XI. 
 
 Pemiaiiency  and  strengtli  of  maternal  influence — Correspondence — Death- 
 bed anguish,  liow  alleviated — Disgraceful  incident — Price  of  jiopularity — 
 Reasons  of  fbriner  U'ials  developed — Letters,  &c. 
 
 The  reader  is  not  to  infer  that  the  subject  of  this  narrative 
 ceased  to  "  give  himself  continually  unto  prayer,"  because  the 
 daily-recorded  testimony  of  the  fact,  to  which  appeal  has  so 
 often  been  made,  is  less  frequently  introduced.  This  was  an 
 employment  of  which  he  seems  never  to  have  grown  weary, 
 and  which  there  are  no  indications  that  he  ever  relaxed.  He 
 "dwelt  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High,  and  abode  under 
 the  shado\V-  of  the  Almighty."  His  accumulated  burden  of 
 cares  and  sorrows  he  every  day  brought  with  him  to  the  throne 
 of  grace,  and  retired  thence  relieved  from  its  pressure,  or  strength- 
 ened to  sustain  it. 
 
 "  Dec.  29.  Was  enabled  ta  agonize  in  prayer  for  myself  and 
 people,  and  to  make  intercession  with  unutterable  groanings. 
 My  heart  and  flesh  cried  out  for  the  living  God.  P'elt  very 
 .strong  hope  that  God  was  about  to  work  wonders  among  us." 
 
 How  well  his  mother  understood  his  character — how  sagaciou.s 
 she  was  in  her  aims  at  his  heart,  always  successful  in  touching 
 the  chord  that  would  be  sure  to  vibrate— in  a  word,  how  assid- 
 uous and  valuable  a  comforter  she  was — is  apparent  from  his 
 answers  to  her  letters  : — 
 
 "  Portland,  Feb.  3,  1810. 
 "  My  dear  mother  : — I  do  '  bless  Heaven'  if  I  am  made  '  the 
 
190 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 joy  of  my  parents'  heart,'  and  esteem  it  one  of  the  greatest 
 mercies  for  which  I  have  reason  to  be  thankful.  Just  before  I 
 received  tlie  letter  which  contained  this  consoling  assurance,  I 
 was  wondering  what  such  a  poor,  miserable,  worthless  wretch 
 was  ever  made  for,  and  why  1  should  be  preserved  in  existence. 
 
  But,  if  I  can  afford  any  joy  to  my  parents,  or  to 
 
 any  one  else,  I  think  I  am  willing  to  live,  let  my  trials  be  ever 
 so  great ;  and  I  bless  God,  and  thank  you  for  sending  me  that 
 letter  just  at  the  right  time.  It  proved  a  very  seasonable  and 
 refreshing  cordial  to  a  fainting  spirit.  But  methinks  I  hear  you 
 ask,  'Why  do  you  talk  of  fainting,  when  you  have  so  much 
 reason  to  rejoice  and  praise  God  for  his  goodness  T  I  faint 
 because  I  find  no  heart,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  goodness,  to  praise 
 him  for  it.  I  faint  because,  while  I  feed  others,  I  am  left  to  pine 
 in  hunger,  and  am  parched  with  thirst.  In  proportion  as  my 
 labors  are  blessed  to  others,  my  sorrows  and  sins  increase;  and, 
 though  1  am  assisted  in  keeping  the  vineyard  of  others,  my  own 
 rims  to  Avaste.  I  cannot  think  that  any  one  but  a  minister 
 knows  any  thing  of  a  minister's  trials  ;  and  I  believe  Paul  had 
 a  peculiar  reference  to  them  when  he  said, — '  If  in  this  life  only 
 we  have  hope,  we  are  of  all  men  most  miserable.'  ***** 
 
 "  The  attention  to  religion  continues  among  us,  and  has 
 much  increased  within  a  few  weeks.  It  seems  to  be  spreading 
 more  among  the  men.  There  are  some  favorable  appearances 
 in  the  neighboring  towns.  Last  week,  and  the  week  before,  and 
 this  week,  1  have  attended  fasts,  in  different  places,  which  have 
 been  observed  with  prayer  for  a  revival  of  religion,  and  am  en- 
 gaged to  attend  another  next  week. 
 
 "  I  preached  yesterday  on  our  Saviour's  words  to  his  disci- 
 ples—  "All  power  is  given  to  me  in  heaven  and  inearth." 
 What  an  animating  assurance  to  his  people,  when  they  have  a 
 strong  faith  to  take  hold  of  it !" 
 
 "  Feb.  8.  Was  favored  wuh  great  fervor  and  freedom  at  the 
 throne  of  grace  this  morning.  Longed  only  to  be  employed  as 
 an  instrument  of  glorifying  Christ,  and  was  willing  to  drink  of 
 his  cup,  and  to  be  baptized  with  his  baptism,  if  I  might  have  a 
 double  portion  of  his  Spirit.  In  the  afternoon  and  evening, 
 attended  conferences,  and  was  grievously  disappointed  to  find 
 no  new  inquirers." 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 191 
 
 April  17,  1810. 
 
 "My  DEAREST  mother: — I  have  just  received  your  aflection- 
 ate  letter,  and  thank  you  most  sincerely  for  the  maternal  love 
 which  breathes  in  every  line.  God  grant  that  I  may  be  made 
 worthy  of  all  the  proofs  of  parental  affection  with  which  I  am 
 mercifully  favored.  If  I  derive  any  pleasure  from  the  success 
 with  which  our  gracious  Master  is  pleased  to  crown  my  labors 
 in  the  ministry,  it,  in  a  great  measure,  arises  from  the  happiness 
 which  I  knaw  this  success  gives  my  friends  at  home.  Next  to 
 glorifying  God,  by  doing  good  to  mankind,  it  is  my  chief  desire 
 to  be  made  the  means  of  promoting  your  happiness. 
 
 ■  *  *  *  *  *  *  * 
 
 "  My  situation  is  now  as  agreeable  as  I  ever  expect  it  will  be 
 on  earth;  and  I  shall  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  change  it.  I  now 
 hear  none  but  religious  conversation ;  every  day  seems  like  a 
 Sabbath,  and  we  have  a  little  image  of  heaven  upon  earth. 
 You  will  I  know,  join  with  me  in  blessing  our  bomiteous  Bene- 
 factor for  this  fresh  instance  of  his  goodness. 
 
 "I  rejoice,  most  sincerely  rejoice,  with  you,  and  especially 
 with  my  dear  father,  in  the  hopeful  appearances  which  attend 
 his  labors.  He  has  long  been  going  forth  weeping,  bearing 
 precious  seed.  I  hope  he  will  now  be  enabled  to  come  again 
 rejoicing,  bringing  with  him  the  sheaves  of  an  abundant  har- 
 vest. I  still  feel  exceedingly  anxious  respecting  his  health,  but 
 must  leave  it  with  God. 
 
 "My  own  health  continues  very  much  the  same  —  rather  bet- 
 ter of  late,  if  any  different.  I  do  not  expect  it  will  be  restored 
 till  the  attention  to  religion  ceases ;  for  it  does  not  answer  for 
 me  to  have  too  many  blessings  at  once. 
 
 "  We  are  still  favored  with  the  presence  of  the  Spirit  of 
 grace,  though  in  a  less  degree  than  formerly.  Appearances, 
 however,  begin  again  to  look  more  encouraging.  The  young 
 converts,  who  have  made  a  profession,  with  a  very  few  excep- 
 tions, bid  fair  to  do  honor  to  the  cause.  Some  of  them,  espe- 
 caUy,  advance  very  rapidly;  and  the  mouths  of  opposers,  who 
 seek  occasion  to  blaspheme,  are  stopped.  The  congregation, 
 and  especially  the  church,  continue  affectionate  as  ever.  In 
 short,  I  am  a  wonder  to  myself,  and  can  scarcely  believe  what 
 I  daily  see  of  the  goodness  of  God.  You  will  naturally  con- 
 clude, however,  that  inward  trials  will  not  be  wanting  where 
 
192 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 outward  comforts  are  so  multiplied.  I  thought,  long  since,  that 
 I  had  endared  every  thing  horrible  and  dreadful  that  was  ever 
 eh,  heard  of,  or  conceived;  but  1  Qnd  that  the  depths  of  Saian, 
 id  of  a  heart  desperately  wicked,  are  not  so  easily  fathomed. 
 'i  Aese  unfathomable  depths,  however,  only  serve  to  show  me 
 more  clearly  the  inlinite  heights  and  depths  of  Christ's  love ; 
 and  1  know  tiiat  he  who  delivered  me  out  of  the  paw  of  the 
 lion  and  the  bear  will  deliver  me  from  every  foe,  however 
 gigantic.  It  is  but  a  morheut,.  my  mother,  and  we'  shall  be 
 singing  the  song  of  redeeming  love  together  before  the  throne. 
 Yes ;  our  salvation  is  nearer  than  we  believed.  Every  moment 
 it  comes  hastening  on,  and  to-morrow  it  will  be  here.  Yes; 
 to-morrow  we  shall  be  as  the  angels  of  God.  O  for  patience  to 
 wait  for  the  glory  which  will  be  revealed,  and  to  endure  the 
 previous  light  afflictions,  which  continue  but  for  a  moment ! " 
 
 The  affectionate  minister  has  joys  peculiar  to  himself,  or 
 rather  to  his  office ;  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  his  trials. 
 He  is  the  father  of  his  flock,  so  far  as  the  relation  supposes  a 
 community  of  feehng  in  their  happiness  and  misery.  Incon- 
 siderate transgressors  know  little  of  the  anguish  which  they 
 bring  upon  the  pastor  who  warns  and  entreats  them  to  seek 
 "the  good  and  right  way;"  and  they  undervalue  his  coimsels 
 and  his  prayers  till  roused  by  some  afi'ecting  providence,  or 
 brought  down  to  the  very  gate  of  death,  and  then  there  is 
 nothing  on  earth  which  they  so  much  covet.  The  case  men- 
 tioned below  is,  perhaps,  a  marked  one;  and  yet  what  faith- 
 ful minister  could  not  name  instances  which  form  no  distant 
 parallels  to  this ! 
 
 "  May  12.  Was  permitted  to  draw  near  to  God  with  joy 
 and  confidence.  O  how  astonishing  is  his  goodness  !  A  little 
 while  since,  I  thought  it  impossible  I  should  ever  be  delivered 
 from  the  grasp  of  sin.  But  he  has  brought  me  up  from  the 
 horrible  pit  and  miry  clay,  and  set  my  feet  upon  a  rock,  and 
 put  a  new  song  into  my  mouth,  even  praise  unto  his  name. 
 Had  scarcely  fallen  asleep,  when  I  was  called  up  to  visit  a 
 dying  woman.  Found  her  in  all  the  agonies  of  despair;  and 
 her  dreadful  shrieks  pierced  my  very  soul,  and  almost  curdled 
 my  blood  with  horror.    Prayed,  in  an  agony  of  spirit,  that  God 
 
EDWAR  D    PA YSON, 
 
 193 
 
 would  snatch  her  as  a  brand  from  the  burning.  After  prayer, 
 she  was  more  quiet,  and  sunk  into  an  imperfect  sleep.  Came 
 away  broken  down  with  a  load  of  anguish. 
 
 "  May  13.  Sabbath.  Rose  languid,  and  exhausted  in  body 
 and  mind.  The  shrieks  of  the  dying  woman  rang  in  my  ears 
 incessantly.  Between  meetings,  was  called  to  visit  her  again. 
 Found  her  composed  and  happy,  rejoicing  in  the  Lord,  and 
 apparently  resigned  to  live  or  die.  On  examination,  found 
 reason  to  believe  that  she  was  really  reconciled  to  God,  and 
 yet  could  hardly  beheve  it.  Could  scarcely  look  upon  it  as  an 
 answer  to  prayer,  and  still  knew  not  how  to  avoid  considering 
 it  as  such. 
 
 "  May  17.  Was  much  enlivened,  to-day,  by  hearing  that  a 
 remarkable  spirit  of  prayer  was  poured  out,  last  evening,  at 
 meeting.  Could  not  but  hope  that  the  Lord  was  about  to  take 
 the  work  into  his  own  hands.  In  the  evening,  attended  the 
 conference  for  inquirers.  Was  still  more  encouraged  by  hear- 
 ing that  the  Spirit  was  again  remarkably  present  at  a  prayer- 
 meeting  of  the  church  this  evening.  Felt  almost  confident 
 that  the  Lord  was  about  to  make  bare  his  arm  in  a  wonderful 
 manner.  Was  so  much  animated  and  enlivened  by  this  hope, 
 that  I  could  scarcely  recover  sufficient  tranquillity  of  mind  to 
 pray  that  my  hopes  might  not  be  disappointed. 
 
 "  May  24.  Was  excessively  feeble  all  day.  In  the  after- 
 noon and  evening,  attended  the  conference  for  inquirers,  but 
 found  only  one.  Was,  at  first,  discouraged;  but  afterwards 
 reflected,  that  it  is  God's  method  to  bring  us  low,  before  he 
 raises  us." 
 
 "Friday  Eve,  June  15. 
 
 "  My  dearest  mother  : — I  arrived  here,  this  afternoon,  after 
 an  agreeable  ride,  and  found  a  house  of  mourning  waiting  for 
 me.  The  young  lady  I  mentioned  died  last  Wednesday  morn- 
 ing. The  grief  of  the  family,  and  my  own  feelings,  you  can 
 better  conceive  than  I  describe.  The  pious  members,  however, 
 are  wonderfully  supported,  so  that  they  are  an  astonishment  to 
 themselves.  The  funeral  is  to  be  to-morrow,  having  been  de- 
 layed one  day  for  my  return. 
 
 "  Pray  for  me.  My  friends  at  home  are  much  endeared  to 
 me  by  their  kindness  during  my  late  visit.  I  always  feel  vexed 
 at  myself,  after  coming  away  that  I  did  not  say  more  on  that 
 
 VOL.  I.  25 
 
194 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 subject,  and  seem  more  sensible  of  their  goodness,  while  I  was 
 with  them.  But,  somehow  or  other,  it  is  contrary  to  my  nature 
 to  tell  people  how  much  I  love  and  thank  them." 
 
 "July  19,  1810. 
 
  "Grief  has  a  wonderful  efficacy,  as  you  observe,  in  soft- 
 ening the  heart;  and  suffering  binds  us  to  fellow-sufferers;  so 
 that  I  cannot  tell  what  may  be  the  event. 
 
 "  I  have  much  new  cause  for  gratitude  since  I  left  home. 
 
 The  minister  at  ,  a  smooth,  liberal  preacher,  has  been  long 
 
 intemperate,  and  lately  fell  from  his  horse  into  a  slough,  on  his 
 way  to  meeting.  He  was,  on  this  dismissed;  and  as  he  was 
 not  the  first  bad  minister  the  people  had  been  cursed  with,  they 
 have  contracted  a  strong  prejudice  against  the  Congregational 
 clergy.  They,  however,  wrote  to  me  to  come  and  preach  for 
 them  one  Sabbath,  if  I  could,  and  I  accordingly  went.  I  was 
 treated  with  great  kindness,  had  a  very  crowded,  attentive,  and 
 solemn  assembly;  and  from  letters  since  received  in  town,  it 
 appears  that  not  a  few  were  deeply  affected,  and  convinced  of 
 sin.  They  are  exceedingly  desirous  that  I  should  come  again; 
 and  unless  they  succeed  in  getting  a  candidate  soon,  I  shall  go. 
 They  are  determined  to  have  none  come,  who  are  not  orthodox. 
 If  I  had  health  and  strength,  I  might  apparently  do  much  good 
 by  thus  preaching  in  different  places." 
 
 The  youthful  reader,  especially  if  he  be  a  candidate  for  the 
 ministry,  will  do  well  to  pause  over  the  following  instructive 
 paragraph : — 
 
 "As  you  suspect,  popularity  costs  me  dear;  and,  did  it  not 
 afford  me  the  means  of  being  more  extensively  useful,  I  should 
 heartily  pray  to  be  delivered  from  it,  as  the  greatest  of  all  curses. 
 Since  the  novelty  has  worn  off,  it  affords  me  no  pleasure;  and 
 yet  I  am  continually  wishing  for  more,  though  it  feeds  nothing 
 but  pride.  If  Ave  had  no  pride,  I  believe  applause  would  give 
 113  no  pleasure.  But  no  one  can  conceive  how  dearly  it  is  pur- 
 chased; what  imspeakably  dreadful  temptations,  buffetings,  and 
 workings  of  depravity,  are  necessary  to  counteract  the  perni- 
 cious effects  of  this  poison.  It  is,  indeed,  the  first  and  last  prayer, 
 which  I  wish  my  friends  to  offer  up  for  me,  that  I  may  be  kept 
 
EDWARD    PA  YSON. 
 
 195 
 
 humble;  and  if  your  too  great  and  undeserved  affection  for  me 
 wdi  exert  itself  in  this  way — that  is,  in  praying  for  me  —  it 
 may  preserve  your  gourd  from  the  blast  and  the  worm. 
 
 "Mr.  R.  remains  very  much  the  same.  His  physicians  give 
 but  faint  hopes  of  his  recovery.  Why  am  not  I  cut  down,  and 
 he  spared  1  O,  I  am  tired  of  receiving  innumerable  mercies  with- 
 out gratitude,  and  of  committing  innumerable  sins  without 
 suitable  sorrow.  .  .  .  That  word  'rest'  grows  exceedingly  sweet 
 to  me.    O,  '  when  shall  I  fly  away,  and  be  at  rest?' 
 
 The  work  still  goes  on.    Dr.  's  church  have,  in  some 
 
 measure,  caught  the  flame,  and  compelled  their  ministers,  re- 
 luctantly, I  believe,  to  set  up  conferences.  They  have  said  so 
 much  against  evening  meetings,  that  it  is  hard  now  to  set  them 
 up.  But  they  are  obliged  to  do  it;  and,  to  use  the  language  of 
 the  world,  the  town  is  in  danger  of  growing  madder  than  ever." 
 
 Confidence  in  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  divine  providence 
 usually  reconciles  the  Christian  to  trials,  and  sustains  him  under 
 the  occurrence  of  events,  which,  at  the  time,  are  wholly  inex- 
 plicable. He  rests  on  the  kind  assurance  of  his  Redeemer, 
 "What  thou  knowest  not  now,  thou  shalt  know  hereafter." 
 And,  though  this  promise  refers  him  to  a  period  beyond  the 
 confines  of  mortality,  when  the  light  of  heaven  shall  beam  on 
 the  intricacies  of  Providence,  and  put  to  flight  the  darkness 
 which  envelopes  them;  yet,  even  in  the  present  world,  he  is 
 often  surprised  with  discoveries  of  the  design  and  tendency  of 
 such  dispensations,  which  render  him  grateful  for  them,  and 
 cause  him  to  bless  God,  who  made  them  a  part  of  his  paternal 
 discipline.  In  retracing  his  path  through  life,  he  sees  his  most 
 dreaded  calamities  connected  with  his  choicest  mercies,  his 
 lowest  depression  with  his  highest  elevation — and  so  connected, 
 that,  without  the  former,  the  latter  would  not  have  been.  That 
 which  threatened  the  destruction  of  his  ability  to  do  good,  he 
 finds  to  be  his  highest  qualification  for  usefulness. 
 
 Such  are  the  developments  which  already  begin  to  appear  in 
 the  history  of  this  afflicted  and  beloved  man.  Henceforth  the 
 reader  will  revert  to  the  dark  shades  of  the  past  with  more  of 
 complacency,  and  cease  to  look  even  upon  his  seasons  of  heart- 
 rending spiritual  anguish,  as  worse  than  blank  portions  of 
 existence.    He  suffered  not  for  himself  alone ;  the  Church  of 
 
196 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 the  Redeemer  was  indirectly,  yet  largely  benefitted  by  what  he 
 endured;  and  many  of  her  members  were,  probably,  prevented 
 from  making  shipwreck  of  faith,  and  sinking  into  irrecoverable 
 despondency,  in  consequence  of  having  for  a  guide  and  coun- 
 sellor one  who  had  narrowly  escaped  a  similar  catastrophe. 
 The  amount  of  suffering,  which  his  own  mental  agony  was 
 thus  the  occasion  of  preventing,  will  not  be  known  till  the  great 
 day.  But,  long  before  he  exchanged  his  armor  for  the  victor's 
 crov/-n,  he  could  appropriate  the  language  of  Paul  —  "I  now 
 rejoice  in  my  sufferings  for  you,  and  fill  up  that  which  is  behind 
 of  the  afflictions  of  Christ  in  my  flesh,  for  his  body's  sake,  which 
 is  the  church." 
 
 "  Portland,  Aug.  8,  1810. 
 
 "My  DEAREST  sister: — I  have  nothing  interesting  to  write, 
 and  my  spirits  are  so  completely  jaded  and  exhausted,  that  they 
 Avill  not  bear  the  fatigue  of  invention.  I  cannot  spiritualize,  nor 
 moralize,  but  must  confine  myself  to  dull  narration  ;  and,  what 
 is  still  worse,  have  nothing  to  narrate.  I  have,  indeed,  one  piece 
 of  good  news,  though  you  have,  probably,  heard  of  it  ere  this. 
 Mr.  R.  is  better,  and  there  are  great  hopes  of  his  recovery. 
 His  complaints,  I  believe,  are  precisely  similar  to  mine. 
 
 "  We  go  on  here  pretty  much  as  usual.  Satan  is  extremely 
 busy  with  Christians,  and  a  large  proportion  of  our  church  have 
 been,  and  still  are,  exercised  with  the  most  dreadful  and  dis- 
 tressing temptations.  I  now  understand  the  reason  of  my  dread- 
 ful trials  at  Marlborough.  Had  it  not  been  for  them,  I  should 
 have  been  still  more  unfit  for  my  present  situation,  than  I  am  at 
 present.  Often  should  I  be  utterly  at  a  loss  what  to  say  or  think, 
 had  not  a  wise  and  gracious  Master  foreseen  what  I  should  need, 
 and  taken  measures  accordingly. 
 
 "He  has  been  pleased,  of  late,  to  bless  my  endeavors  to  com- 
 fort his  tempted  and  distressed  people  with  wonderful  success. 
 I  often  stand  astonished  at  it  myself,  and  seem  to  look  upon  it 
 as  a  greater  honor  and  favor,  than  even  to  be  owned  in  the  con- 
 version of  sinners.  If  I  can  be  permitted  to  do  this,  I  seem  wil- 
 ling to  stay  and  suffer  every  thing  which  he  sees  fit  to  lay  upon 
 me.  But  I  tremble  at  what  may  be  the  consequence.  Those 
 who  find  my  endeavors  blessed  to  comfort  them,  of  course  grow 
 more  and  more  affectionate;  and  1  fear  lest  they  prove  guilty 
 of  creature-idolatry,  and  thus  provoke  God  to  wither  their  gourd. 
 
EDWARD    PAY  SON. 
 
 197 
 
 I  have  warned  them  of  the  danger  of  this  in  private,  and  have, 
 at  last,  openly  preached  against  it;  but  God  does  not  seem  to 
 bless  it  to  their  conviction,  and,  I  fear,  we  shall  both  smart  for 
 it.  He  is  a  jealous  God,  and  if  his  people  put  a  servant  in  his 
 place,  wo  be  to  the  poor  creature  who  is  thus  set  up  against  him. 
 Pray  for  me,  therefore,  and  pray  for  my  people.  When  I  ask 
 them  to  pray  for  me,  they  only  smile,  and  reply,  that  I  need  not 
 their  prayers.  In  short,  we  are  all  young  here,  and  have  little 
 experience;  and  if  God  does  not  prevent,  we  shall  rush  into  all 
 manner  of  extravagance. 
 
 "  Since  I  wrote  last,  I  have  been  to  preach  at  a  place  near 
 this,  where  they  have  been  stupid  almost  to  a  proverb.  But  I 
 hear  now,  that  conference  meetings  are  set  up ;  the  minister  is 
 roused;  and  many  are  earnestly  inquiring  what  they  shall  do, 
 
 "Another  minister,  who  lives  about  miles  from  this,  has 
 
 lately  rode  into  town,  week  after  week,  to  attend  our  lectures. 
 He  told  his  people,  that  though  he  had  to  hire  a  horse,  yet  he 
 was  always  amply  repaid.  He  has  been  very  lax,  but  a  great 
 alteration  has  taken  place  in  his  preaching  and  conduct,  and 
 there  is  -onsiderable  attention  excited  among  his  people. 
 
 "After  C.U  this,  you  will  not  wonder  to  hear  that  I  am  borne 
 down  with  heavy  burdens  ;  pressed  out  of  strength  above  meas- 
 ure, so  as,  at  times,  to  despair  even  of  life.  All  this  is  necessary, 
 absolutely  necessary,  and  I  desire  to  consider  it  as  a  mercy;  but 
 it  is  hard,  very  hard  to  bear.  If  any  one  asks  to  be  made  a 
 successful  minister,  he  knows  not  what  he  asks;  and  it  becomes 
 'him  to  consider,  whether  he  can  drink  deeply  of  Christ's  bitter 
 cup,  and  be  baptized  with  his  baptism.  If  we  could  learn, 
 indeed,  to  give  all  the  glory  to  God,  and  keep  only  the  sin  and 
 imperfections  to  ourselves,  Ave  might  be  spared  these  trials.  And 
 one  would  think  this  easy  enough.  One  would  think,  that  Jonah 
 could  hardly  be  proud  of  his  success  among  the  Ninevites ;  and 
 we  have,  if  possible,  less  reason  to  be  proud  than  he.  But  pride 
 will  live  and  thrive  without  reason,  and  in  despite  of  every  reason 
 to  the  contrary. 
 
 "Portland,  Sept.  20,  1810. 
 "My  dear  sister: — I  thank  you  most  sincerely  for  your  letter, 
 which  I  have  just  received;  but  I  do  not  thank  you  at  all  for 
 ihe  reason  which  you  assign  for  not  writing  more  frequently. 
 It  seems,  forsooth,  that  I  am  so  wonderfully  wise  and  good,  that 
 
198 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 you  dare  not  write  to  me.  My  dear  sister,  this  is  little  better 
 than  downright  mockery — not  that  I  suspect  you  of  a  design 
 to  mock  me — but  your  commendations,  however  sincere,  are 
 cutting,  very  cutting,  and  I  beg  you  to  wound  me  no  more  witli 
 them.  Go  and  congratulate  a  wretch  on  the  rack  upon  the 
 happiness  which  he  enjoys;  tell  a  beggar  of  his  riches,  an  illite- 
 rate peasant  of  his  learning,  or  a  deformed  cripple  of  his  strength 
 and  beauty;  but  mock  not  a  vile,  stupid  sinner,  ready  to  sink 
 under  an  almost  insupportable  weight  of  guilt  and  iniquity,  with 
 commendations  of  his  goodness,  or  a  blind,  ignorant  creature 
 with  compliments  upon  his  wisdom  and  knowledge.  You  are 
 ready,  perhaps,  to  look  upon  my  situation  as  enviable;  but  if 
 you  knew  what  1  suffer  in  a  single  day,  you  would  fall  down 
 on  your  knees,  and  bless  God  that  you  are  not  a  minister.  Not 
 that  I  consider  it  as  a  small  favor  to  be  placed  in  this  sacred 
 office,  and  honored  with  some  degree  of  acceptance  and  success. 
 I  know  it  is  a  post  which  an  angel  might  envy,  and  I  can  never, 
 to  all  eternity,  bless  God  sufficiently  for  .putting  me  into  it,  and 
 supporting  me  under  a  pressure  of  its  duties.  I  would  not  part 
 with  the  privilege  of  preaching  Christ  crucified  to  perishing 
 sinners,  and  of  administering  to  the  consolation  of  Gou's  afflicted 
 people,  to  be  made  monarch  of  the  world.  But  O  the  agonies, 
 the  unutterable,  inconceivable  agonies,  which  must  be  endured 
 by  those  who  attempt,  with  such  a  heart  as  mine,  to  perform 
 this  work !  I  shudder  with  horror,  to  think  of  the  scenes  through 
 which  I  have  been  obliged  to  pass,  and  shrink  back  from  those 
 through  which  I  must  yet  pass  before  I  reach  the  rest  prepared  for 
 the  people  of  God.  It  is,  however,  some  comfort,  that  the  time, 
 when  I  shall  quit  this  scene  of  trial,  cannot  be  far  distant.  Na- 
 ture cannot  hold  out  under  what  I  endure;  and  I  trust  that,  ere 
 many  years,  I  shall  be  safe  in  the  grave,  where  the  wicked  cease 
 from  troubling,  ond  the  weary  are  at  rest.  If,  meanwhile.  I  may 
 be  preserved  from  insanity,  and  from  wounding  the  cause  of 
 Christ,  by  falling  into  open  wickedness,  it  is  all  I  ask  for,  and 
 perhaps  more  than  I  have  any  reason  to  expect.  It  is  a  dread- 
 ful thought,  that  no  Christian  on  earth,  however  holy,  humble, 
 and  watchful  he  may  at  present  be,  h-\s  any  security  against 
 falling  into  open  sin  before  he  dies.  As  to  resolving  that  we 
 will  not  thus  fall,  it  avails  nothing.  As  well  might  a  stone 
 resolve  not  to  fall,  when  the  power  which  upheld  it  is  removed. 
 
EDWARD    PAY SON. 
 
 199 
 
 You  will,  perhaps,  say,  We  may  hope  that  God  will  uphold  us 
 for  the  sake  of  his  cause.  So  David  might  have  hoped.  Tt 
 seemed  very  important  that  he  should  be  preserved  — and  yet, 
 how  he  fell !  And  what  reason,  then,  have  I  to  hope  that  1  shall 
 not  fall?  And,  if  I  should,  it  would  injure  the  cause  of  religion 
 infinitely  more  than  all  my  labors  will  ever  advance  it.  " 
 
 The  following  letter  is  without  date,  but  cannot  be  materially 
 out  of  its  place  :  — 
 
 "My  health  remains  much  the  same.  I  have  enjoyed  more 
 in  religion,  since  my  last  journey  to  Rindge,  than  during  my 
 whole  ministry  before.  My  distressing  exercises  have  vanish- 
 ed— I  sometimes  hope,  never  to  return ;  and  my  thoughts  are 
 so  unusually  drawn  upward,  that  I  cannot  avoid  concluding 
 that  my  stay  on  earth  is  to  be  but  short.  My  church  are  many 
 of  them  of  the  same  opinion.  They  tell  me  they  arc  certain 
 that  I  shall  not  continue  with  them  long.  Sometimes  I  am 
 tempted  to  wish  that  my  expectations  may  soon  be  realized. 
 At  others,  I  wish  to  stay  a  little  longer,  and  tell  sinners  what 
 a  precious  Saviour  Jesus  is.  But  the  Lord's  will  be  done. 
 Welcome  life,  welcome  death,  welcome  any  thing  from  his 
 hand.  The  world — O  what  a  bubble — what  a  trifle  it  is! 
 Friends  are  nothing,  fame  is  nothing,  health  is  nothing,  life  is 
 nothing;  Jesus,  Jesus  is  all  !  O  what  will  it  be  to  spend  an 
 eternity  in  seeing  and  praising  Jesus  !  to  see  him  as  he  is,  to  be 
 satisfied  with  his  likeness !  O,  I  long,  I  pant,  I  faint  with  de- 
 sire to  be  singing.  Worthy  is  the  Lamb — to  be  extolling  the 
 riches  of  sovereign  grace — to  be  casting  the  crown  at  the  feet 
 of  Christ !  And  why  may  we  not  do  all  this  on  earth  7  My 
 dearest  sister,  we  may  do  it,  if  it  is  not  our  own  fault.  Pause 
 a  moment,  and  try  to  conceive  how  they  feel,  and  what  they 
 are  at  this  moment  doing  in  heaven.  Pause  and  reflect  till  you 
 hear  their  songs,  and  feel  your  heart  glow  with  their  love. 
 Then  shout  aloud,  'Worthy  is  the  Lamb,  for  thou  wast  slain, 
 and  hast  redeemed  me  by  thy  blood.  Worthy  is  the  Lamb, 
 who  was  slain,  to  receive  glory,  and  blessing,  and  honor,  and 
 power  ! '    But  I  must  desist. 
 
 "  Remember  me  most  aff'ectionately  to  our  dear  parents  ;  and 
 I  hope  that  they  and  you  are  willing  that  I  should  go  to  heaven 
 first." 
 
200  memoir  of 
 
 "  Portland,  Dec.  10,  1810. 
 "My  dearest  mother: — Since  my  return,  it  has  pleased  my 
 adorable  Saviour,  in  his  sovereign  mercy,  to  give  me  clearer 
 and  more  transporting  views  of  himself  than  I  have  ever  before 
 enjoyed ;  and  1  have  no  leisure  or  thoughts  to  bestow  on  any 
 thing  else.  He  has  brought  me  up  out  of  the  horrible  pit, 
 where  I  have  so  long  been  sinking,  and  put  a  new  song  in  my 
 mouth;  and  O  that  all  creation  would  join  with  me  in  singuig 
 his  praises  !  I  have  sometimes  heard  of  spells  and  charms  to 
 excite  love,  and  have  wished  for  them,  when  a  boy,  that  I  might 
 cause  others  to  love  me.  But  how  much  more  do  I  now  wish 
 for  some  charm  which  should  lead  men  to  love  the  Saviour ! 
 What  would  I  not  give  for  the  power  to  make  sinners  love  him, 
 for  the  faculty  of  describing  his  beauties  and  glories  in  such  a 
 manner  as  to  excite  warmer  affections  towards  him  in  the 
 hearts  of  Christians  !  Could  I  paint  a  true  likeness  of  him,  me- 
 thinks  I  should  rejoice  to  hold  it  up  to  the  view  and  admiration 
 of  all  creation,  and  be  hid  behind  it  forever.  It  would  be 
 heaven  enough  to  hear  him  praised  and  adored,  though  no  one 
 should  know  or  care  about  insignificant  me.  But  I  cannot 
 paint  him;  I  cannot  describe  him ;  I  cannot  make  others  love 
 him ;  nay,  I  cannot  love  him  a  thousandth  part  so  much  as  I 
 ought  myself  I  faint,  I  sink  under  the  weight  of  infinite,  in- 
 supportable obligations.  O  for  an  angel's  tongue — O  for  the 
 tongues  of  ten  thousand  angels,  to  sound  his  praises  !  I  would 
 fain  do  something  for  him,  but  I  can  do  nothing.  I  cannot 
 even  attempt  to  do  any  thing  without  his  grace  ;  and  the  more 
 I  am  enabled  to  do  in  his  service,  so  much  the  more  is  the  load 
 of  obligation  increased.  O  that  God,  who  alone  is  able,  would 
 glorify  his  Son  !  This,  at  present,  is  all  my  salvation,  and  all 
 my  desire,  that  Christ  may  be  glorified.  For  this  reason,  I  long 
 and  pray  for  a  revival.  I  long  that  the  blessed  Jesus  should 
 receive  some  more  suitable  returns  for  his  wondrous  love  to 
 our  ruined  race.  We  are  hoping  that  this  will  be  the  case  here. 
 I  hope  the  church  begin  to  awake  and  pray  more  earnestly  than 
 ever,  and  that  we  shall  yet  see  hundreds  here  praising  the  ever- 
 blessed  Redeemer.  It  seems  of  no  consequence  what  becomes 
 of  me.  It  seems  of  no  consequence  what  becomes  of  sinners, 
 comparatively  speaking.  But,  O,  it  is  of  infinite  consequence 
 that  Christ  should  be  glorified.    My  dearest  mother,  do  strive 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 201 
 
 to  love  him  more  than  ever.  Do  strive  to  make  others  love 
 him.  O,  if  it  was  not  for  a  hope  of  doing  something  for  his 
 glory,  how  could  we  be  content  to  live  a  single  hour  absent 
 from  his  presence  above  ! 
 
 "I  shall  not  wonder  if  you  think  me  mad.  I  have  been 
 mad,  and  am  just  beginning  to  see  my  madness.  O  how  little 
 zeal,  how  little  love,  have  I  manifested  !  How  madly  have  1 
 misimproved  my  time  and  talents !  how  wretchedly  neglected 
 the  all-important  work  to  which  I  am  called  !  how  ungratefully 
 requited  the  best  of  Saviours!  How  often  have  1  called  his 
 love  and  faithfulness  in  question,  at  the  very  time  he  was  taking 
 the  best  possible  measures  to  promote  my  happiness  !  Now  he 
 returns  to  humble  me,  and  shame  me  for  my  folly  and  ingrati- 
 tude. O,  I  know  not  how  to  bear  this  astonishing,  overwhelm- 
 ing goodness  !  Methinks  I  could  bear  his  anger — but  his  love 
 cuts  me  to  the  heart.  O  that  I  may  be  dumb,  and  not  open 
 my  mouth  any  more,  since  he  is  pacified  towards  me  for  all 
 that  1  have  done!  O  that,  for  the  remainder  of  life,  I  could 
 hear  of  nothing,  think  of  nothing,  speak  of  nothing,  but  the 
 wonders  of  his  person,  his  character,  and  redeeming  love  ! 
 But,  unless  he  prevents  it,  1  shall  wander  again,  and  act  over, 
 not  only  once,  but  often,  all  my  past  sins.  It  seems  now  infi- 
 nitely better  to  die,  than  to  be  guilty  of  this  ;  but  he  knows,  and 
 will  do,  what  is  best." 
 
 "Dec.  16.  Sabbath.  This  day  completes  three  years  since 
 my  ordination.  What  a  miserable,  unprofitable  servant  have 
 I  been  !  In  the  afternoon,  preached,  with  much  difficulty, 
 from  Ezekiel,  xxxiii,  7-9.  Was  much  affected,  and  my  hearers 
 appeared  scarcely  less  so.  Came  home  excessively  fatigued, 
 but  rejoicing  in  God." 
 
 This  year,  forty-two  souls  were  gathered  into  the  church. 
 VOL.  I.  26 
 
CHAPTER  XII. 
 
 Holy  asj)! rations.  Gratitude  to  the  Saviour.  Multiplied  labors.  Novel 
 fjunily  scene.  Danger  averted.  "Curious  frame."  Flattery  deprecated. 
 His  marriage.  Becomes  sole  pastor  of  the  church.  Retrosi)ect  of  the 
 year. 
 
 "Dec.  17,  1810.  I  now  commence  the  fourth  year  of  my 
 ministry.  Whether  I  shall  live  to  finish  it  God  only  knows. 
 O  that  it  may  be  spent  to  better  purpose  than  those  which  are 
 pavssed  ! 
 
 "  Dec.  29.  Felt  the  blessed  effects  of  casting  all  my  cares 
 upon  him  who  careth  for  me.  In  family  prayer,  was  most  un- 
 usually drawn  out  towards  God,  and  felt  as  much  like  an  in- 
 habitant of  heaven  as  I  ever  expect  to  feel  here.  All  earthly 
 objects  were  swallowed  up ;  self  appeared  to  be  nothing,  and 
 God  to  be  all  in  all.  Felt  as  if  my  lime  on  earth  would  be 
 short.  I  was  in  a  strait  betwixt  two,  having  a  desire  to  depart 
 and  be  Avith  Christ,  and  yet  wishing  to  stay,  that  I  might  tell 
 others  what  a  precious  Saviour  he  is.  But  the  Lord's  will  be 
 done.    Welcome  any  thing  which  he  pleases  to  send. 
 
 "  Dec.  31.  Spent  the  day  in  visiting.  In  the  evening,  met 
 a  number  of  Christian  friends,  and  had  a  sweet  season  in  con- 
 versing upon  heaven.  Our  hearts  seemed  to  burn  within  us, 
 and  it  was  a  little  foretaste  of  heaven." 
 
 These  quotations  furnish  pretty  fair  specimens  of  his  religious 
 feelings  for  several  months,  excepting  those  intervals  when  he 
 was  greatly  reduced  and  disheartened  by  sickness.  On  emerg- 
 ing from  the  darkness  of  such  a  season,  he  writes: — 
 
MEMOIR     OF    EDWARD    PAYSON.  203 
 
 "Jan.  10,  1811.  This  morning,  God  was  pleased  to  return, 
 and  lift  me  out  of  the  dust.  The  great  comforts  with  which  1 
 was  favored,  some  time  since,  rendered  me  proud,  and  I  needed 
 a  season  of  darl^ness  to  humble  me  Had  much  freedom,  and 
 some  brokenness  of  heart,  this  morning,  in  secret  and  family- 
 prayer,  and  some  ability  to  plead  with  God  not  to  forsake  us. 
 O  how  sovereign  and  free  is  his  grace !" 
 
 Under  the  same  date,  he  writes  to  his  mother  :  - 
 
 "  Last  Sabbath  was  communion  with  us.  1  preached  from 
 Zech.  iii.  2:  'Is  not  this  a  brand  pkicked  out  of  the  fire?' 
 What  a  just  and  striking  description  of  every  redeemed  sinner! 
 and  what  a  glorious  idea  does  it  afford  us  of  the  work  of  re- 
 demption !  To  snatch  a  smoking  brand  from  eternal  burnings, 
 and  plant  it  among  the  stars  in  the  firmament  of  heaven,  there 
 to  shine  like  the  sun  forever — O,  what  a  glorious  work  is  this  ! 
 a  work  worthy  of  God  !  a  work  which  none  but  God  could 
 perform.  Such  a  brand  am  I — a  brand  yet  smoking  with  the 
 half-extinguished  fires  of  sin ;  a  brand,  scorched  and  blackened 
 by  the  flames  of  hell.  What  then  do  I  owe  to  him,  who  enter- 
 ed the  furnace  of  divine  wrath.  That  he  might  bring  me  out! 
 who  spread  himself  over  me  as  a  shield  from  that  fiery  storm, 
 which  would  have  set  me  forth  an  example,  like  Sodom,  suflfer- 
 ing  the  vengeance  of  eternal  fire. 
 
 "I  have  no  heart  to  speak  or  write  about  any  thing  but  Je- 
 sus; and  yet  I  have  little  patience  to  write  about  him  in  our 
 miserably  defective  language.  0  for  a  language  suitable  to 
 speak  his  praises,  and  describe  his  glory  and  beauty !  But 
 they  cannot  be  described — they  cannot  be  conceived;  for  'no 
 man  kuowetli  the  Son,  but  the  Father.'  What  a  wonderful 
 idea  docs  that  text  give  us  of  the  Son  !  Saints  in  heaven  do 
 not  know  him  perfectly;  even  the  angels  do  not.  None  but 
 the  Father  is  able  to  comprehend  all  his  excellence.  Yet  vari- 
 ous, great,  unsearchable,  infinite,  as  are  his  excellences,  they 
 are  all  ours;  our  Saviour,  our  Head,  'our  flesh  and  our  bone.' 
 O,  wonder  I — how  passing  wonderful  is  this  !  Methinks,  if  I 
 could  borrow,  for  a  moment,  the  archangel's  trump,  and  make 
 heaven,  earth  and  hell  resound  with  '  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that 
 was  slain !'    I  could  contentedly  drop  into  nothing.    But  no. 
 
204 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 I  should  wish  to  live,  and  make  them  resound  with  his  name 
 through  eternity.  What  a  transporting  thought  —  to  spend  an 
 eternity  in  exaUing  God  and  the  Lamb ;  in  beholding  their  glo- 
 ry, and  hearing  them  extolled  by  all  creatures  ! — this  is  heaven 
 mdeed.  To  be  swallowed  up  and  lost  in  God  ;  to  have  our  spirits 
 embraced,  wrapped  up  in  his  all-infolding  Spirit ;  to  forget  our- 
 selves, and  think  only  of  him  ;  to  lose,  in  a  manner,  our  own 
 separate  existence,  and  exist  only  in  him ;  to  have  his  glory  all 
 in  all  to  us ;  this  is,  indeed,  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal 
 Aveight  of  glory." 
 
 About  a  month  later,  he  gives  this  account  of  their  spiritual 
 prospects: — "Our  hopes  of  increasing  attention  begin  to  revive 
 again.  Some  recent  instances  of  conviction  have  taken  place, 
 and  we  have  about  thirty  very  serious  inquirers.  Tlie  church, 
 too  are  more  roused,  and  we  have  as  yet  had  no  scandals, 
 among  us  for  the  world  to  take  hold  of.  I  cannot  but  hope,  that 
 God  designs  to  raise  up  a  church  here,  which  will  shine  bright, 
 and  be  like  a  city  set  on  a  hill.  Satah  buffets  them  sorely;  but 
 the  more  he  buffets  them,  the  faster  they  grow.    I  hope  yet,  if 
 
 God  pleases,  to  see  seated  with  us  at  the  communion  table. 
 
 It  would,  I  doubt  not,  rejoice  your  very  heart." 
 
 Some  idea  of  the  variety  and  amount  of  his  labors  may  be 
 collected  from  a  single  sentence,  which  is  incidentally  intro- 
 duced into  a  letter,  dated  February  17: — "I  preach,  or  do  what 
 is,  at  least,  as  laborious,  six  nights  in  a  week,  besides  talking 
 incessantly,  a  considerable  part  of  every  day."  It  is  not  im- 
 probable, that  to  his  private  intercourse,  not  less  than  his  public 
 addresses,  the  rapid  prosperity  of  religion  is  to  be  ascribed.  His 
 inventive  genius  seemed  to  delight  in  finding  out  as  many 
 ways  as  possible,  by  which  a  religious  influence  might  be 
 brought  to  bear  upon  those  to  whom  he  had  acces.s.  Take 
 the  following  domestic  scene  as  an  illustration:  it  is  unques- 
 tionably the  oflspring  of  his  own  pious  ingenuity  ;  for  it  bears 
 as  infallible  marks  of  its  parentage,  as  the  description  of  it 
 does  of  his  pen: — 
 
  "I  will  give  you  a  little  sketch  of  our  family  Avay  of 
 
 living,  that  you  may  adopt  it  if  you  please.    In  the  first  place, 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 205 
 
 we  have  agreed,  that,  if  either  of  us  says  a  word,  which  tends 
 in  the  least  to  the  discredit  of  any  person,  the  rest  shall  ad- 
 monish the  offender;  and  this  has  entirely  banished  evil-speak- 
 ing from  among  us.  In  the  next  place,  we  are  careful,  espe- 
 cially in  the  early  part  of  the  day,  as  at  breakfast,  to  converse 
 on  nothing  which  is  inconsistent  with  mahitaining  a  prayerful 
 frame.  Christians,  I  believe,  generally  think  they  do  pretty 
 well  if  they  pray  twice  a  day ;  but  I  see  not  why  we  are  not 
 just  as  much  commanded  to  pray  without  ceasing,  as  to  pray 
 at  all.  We  sometimes,  however,  allow  our  minds  a  little  relax- 
 ation at  dinner,  by  conversing  on  other  subjects  than  those 
 which  are  strictly  religious.  At  the  beginning  of  evening,  before 
 the  candles  are  brought  in,  if  I  am  at  home,  which  is  not  very 
 often  the  case,  we  all  sit  down,  and  take  a  little  tour  up  to 
 heaven,  and  see  what  they  are  doing  there.  We  try  to  figure 
 to  ourselves  how  they  feel,  and  how  we  shall  feel,  and  what 
 we  shall  do ;  and  often,  while  we  are  trying  to  imagine  how 
 they  feel,  our  own  feelmgs  become  more  heavenly ;  and  some- 
 times God  is  pleased  to  open  to  us  a  door  in  heaven,  so  that  we 
 get  a  glimpse  of  what  is  transacting  there — and  this  fills  us  so 
 full  of  impatience,  that  we  can  scarcely  wait  till  death  comes 
 to  carry  us  home.  If  we  cannot  get  together  before  tea,  for 
 this  purpose,  we  take  a  little  time  after  prayers,  before  separ- 
 ating for  the  night ;  and,  I  assure  you,  it  forms  an  excellent 
 preparative  for  sweet  sleep.  But  enough  of  this  at  present :  if 
 you  like  it,  I  will  tell  you  more  by  and  by." 
 
 "Feb.  1811. 
 
  "  We  have  been  in  great  danger  from  fire.    It  was  truly 
 
 of  the  Lord's  mercies,  that  we  were  not  consumed,  with  a  con- 
 siderable part  of  the  town.  Just  as  the  water  began  to  fail, 
 and  all  hopes  were  over,  the  fire  abated.  I  was  so  much 
 fatigued  by  over  exertion  in  removing  our  things,  that  I  was 
 miserably  unwell  for  a  fortnight,  but  am  now  recovered.  Some 
 acknowledge  the  goodness  of  God  in  sparing  the  town  ;  but 
 others  are  dreadfully  hardened.  One  poor  creature,  as  soon  as 
 the  fire  was  extinguished,  cried  out,  'Well,  we  have  got  it  out, 
 but  no  thanks  to  Payson,  nor  God  neither.'  Another,  after 
 meeting,  the  ensuing  Sabbath,  observed,  that  he  'did  not  like 
 this  giving  all  the  glory  to  God;  but  that  man  ought  to  have, 
 at  least,  some  part  of  the  glory  of  putting  out  the  fire.'  This 
 
206 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 is,  indeed,  the  natural  language  of  every  heart,  but  few  like  to 
 express  it  so  openly. 
 
 "  I  fear  that  religion  is  on  the  decline  among  us.  There  is 
 still,  however,  considerable  attention,  and  we  have  had  a  few 
 remarkable  instances  of  conversion." 
 
 "  March  1.  Had  a  most  violent  headache,  and  was  almost 
 distracted ;  yet  was  obliged  to  preach  in  the  evening.  Found 
 many  more  present  than  I  expected,  and  was  imusually  assist- 
 ed, and  the  people  were  very  solemn.  Most  gladly  will  I  glory 
 in  my  infirmities,  that  the  power  of  Christ  may  rest  upon  me; 
 for  when  I  am  weak,  then  I  am  strong." 
 
 "Portland,  March  25,  1811. 
 
 "  My  dear  mother;   Satan  rages  most  violently  against 
 
 Christ's  sheep,  and  I  am  almost  constantly  employed  in  trying 
 to  counsel  and  comfort  them,  under  their  manifold  temptations. 
 However,  the  more  he  rages,  the  faster  they  grow;  though  I 
 have  had  serious  fears  respecting  some  of  them,  that  they  would 
 lose  life,  or  reason,  or  both.  I  now  find  why  my  gracious  Mas- 
 ter has  suffered  me  to  be  so  grievously  tormented  in  times  past. 
 How  miserably  quahfied  should  I  otherwise  have  been  to  speak 
 a  word  in  season  to  them  that  are  weary  !  Still  I,  I,  I !  nothing 
 but  I's — seven  in  half  a  page.  Well,  I  don't  care — 1  am  writ- 
 ing to  my  mother,  and  I  know  she  loves  to  hear  about  I ;  so  I 
 will  proceed,  and  tell  her  about  a  half-sleeping,  half- waking 
 dream  I  had  the  other  morning.  If  it  does  her  as  much  good 
 as  it  did  me,  it  won't  be  paper  lost. 
 
 "After  a  curious  kind  of  frame  in  sleep,  I  waked  myself  up, 
 with  exclaiming — '  Lord,  why  is  it  that  thou  art  never  weary 
 of  heaping  favors  on  ungrateful,  perverse,  stubborn  wretches, 
 who  render  thee  only  evil  for  good  ? '  In  a  moment,  he  seemed 
 to  reply  as  powerfully  as  if  he  had  spoken  with  an  audible 
 voice — '  Because  I  am  never  weary  of  gratifying  my  dear  Son, 
 and  showing  the  greatness  of  my  love  to  him.  Till  I  am  weary 
 of  him,  and  cease  to  love  him,  I  shall  never  be  weary  of  heap- 
 ing favors  on  his  friends,  however  unworthy.'  These  words, 
 it  is  true,  contain  nothing  more  than  an  obvious  truth;  but 
 they  conveyed  more  to  my  mind  than  all  the  books  I  ever  read. 
 If  you  meditate  upon  them,  perhaps  they  may  convey  some- 
 
EDWARD    PA  YSON. 
 
 207 
 
 thing  to  yours.  What  strong  confidence  are  they  suited  to 
 inspire,  if  we  reaUze  their  full  import !  How  will  they  encour- 
 age us  to  ask  and  expect  great  things,  notwithstanding  our 
 inexpressible  unworlhiness !  Never  before  did  the  scheme  of 
 redemption,  and  the  great  mystery  of  God  manifest  in  the  flesh, 
 appear  so  great  and  glorious.  While  meditating  upon  it,  I  was 
 wonderfully  struck  with  a  reason  which  never  occurred  to  me 
 before,  why  God  permitted  Adam  to  fall.  Had  he  stood,  all 
 his  posterity  would  have  been  happy.  He  would,  therefore, 
 in  one  sense,  have  been  their  Saviour;  and  while  they  were 
 enjoying  the  happiness  of  heaven,  they  would  have  exclaimed, 
 'For  all  this  we  are  indebted  to  our  first  parent.'  This  would 
 have  been  too  great  an  honor  for  any  finite  being.  It  would 
 have  tempted  Adam  to  pride,  and  us  to  idolatry.  The  honor, 
 therefore,  was  reserved  for  God's  own  Son,  the  second  Adam. 
 But  perhaps  this  has  occurred  to  you  before ;  so  I  will  not  enlarge. 
 
 "Mr.  R.  is  still  in  miserable  health.    He  will  take  a  journey 
 in  the  spring.    If  that  does  not  help  him,  we  shall  think  him 
 irrecoverable.    I  fear  he  is  too  good  to  stay  long  on  earth. 
 ******* 
 
 "You  must  not,  certainly,  my  dear  mother,  say  one  word, 
 which  even  looks  like  an  intimation  that  you  think  me  advanc- 
 ing in  grace.  I  cannot  bear  it.  Every  body  here,  whether 
 friends  or  enemies,  are  conspiring  to  ruin  me.  Satan  and  my 
 own  heart,  of  course,  will  lend  a  hand  ;  and  if  you  join  too,  I 
 fear  all  the  cold  water,  which  Christ  can  throw  upon  my  pride, 
 will  not  prevent  it  from  breaking  out  into  a  destructive  flame. 
 As  certainly  as  any  body  flatters  and  caresses  me,  my  Father 
 has  to  whip  me  for  it ;  and  an  unspeakable  mercy  it  is,  that  he 
 condescends  to  do  it.  I  can,  it  is  true,  easily  muster  a  hundred 
 good  reasons  why  I  should  not  be  proud ;  but  pride  won't  mind 
 reason,  nor  any  thing  else  but  a  good  drubbing.  Even  at  this 
 moment,  I  feel  it  tingling  in  my  fingers'  ends,  and  seeking  to 
 guide  my  pen." 
 
 "  April  4.  Spent  the  forenoon  in  writing.  In  the  afternoon, 
 attended  the  inquiry  meeting,  and  was  refreshed  by  seeing  a 
 number  of  new  inquirers.  The  Spirit  of  God  seemed  to  be  pres- 
 ent. In  the  evening,  attended  another,  and  found  one  who  had 
 obtained  comfort.  Came  home  exceedingly  fatigued,  but 
 rejoicing  in  God. 
 
208 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "  April  6.  Had  some  sense  of  my  own  weakness,  and  some 
 longing  desires  that  God  would  meet  with  us.  Had  a  most 
 solemn,  joyful,  and  refreshing  season,  and  trust  it  was  highly 
 profitable  to  the  church,  but  was  myself  exceedingly  overcome. 
 
 *'  April  6.  Was  exceedingly  happy  all  day.  Enjoyed  the 
 peace  of  God,  which  passeth  understanding. 
 
 "April  8.  Miserably  weak,  both  in  body  and  mind,  an  i 
 exceedingly  wretched  most  of  the  day.  The  light  of  my  soul 
 was  withdrawn  from  me.  O,  what  a  miserable  wretch  am  I, 
 when  Christ  is  absent !  It  is,  however,  necessary  that  he  should 
 sometimes  withdraw  ;  and  I  was  enabled  to  realize  that  it  was 
 love,  which  induced  him  to  hide  his  face,  and  1  submitted  to  it 
 without  one  murmuring  thought." 
 
 On  the  eighth  of  May,  Mr.  Payson  was  married  to  Ann  Louisa 
 Shipman,  of  New  Haven,  Connecticut,  —  a  woman  of  kindred 
 piety,  and  whose  energy  and  firmness  of  character,  connected 
 with  other  estimable  accomplishments,  proved  his  best  earthly 
 support,  and  an  abiding  check  upon  his  constitutional  tendency 
 to  depression.  Female  affection  and  ingenuity  could  not  have 
 been  better  directed,  or  more  signally  honored  and  rewarded. 
 In  the  acquisition  of  such  a  "help-meet,"  he  justly  considered 
 himself  as  "  having  obtained  favor  of  the  Lord." 
 
 It  has  been  alleged,  perhaps  without  sufficient  reason,  that 
 ministers,  as  a  class,  are  chargeable,  beyond  others,  with  fail- 
 ures in  what  relates  to  this  most  delicate  and  important  connex- 
 ion. The  truth  is,  their  errors  of  this  kind  attract  more  notice, 
 and  are  more  injurious.  But  the  fact,  that  the  peace  and  welfare 
 of  so  many,  as  well  as  his  own  usefulness,  are  materially 
 affected  by  the  character  of  a  pastor's  wife,  deserves  the  consid- 
 eration of  all  who  are  still  in  a  situation  to  profit  by  it.  A 
 chapter  might  be  compiled  from  Mr.  Payson's  letters,  which 
 would  be  of  great  use  to  the  clerical  candidate  for  w^edlock,  who 
 was  anxious  to  know  'the  best  method  of  conducting  the  prelim- 
 inary intercourse;  but  the  favored  object  of  his  conjugal 
 attachment  still  survives,  and  her  right  to  the  early  avowals 
 and  precious  testimonials  of  his  faithful  love  is  sole  and 
 exclusive.  Still,  an  instructive  exhibitipn  of  his  views  and  of 
 his  practice  may  be  made,  without  any  indelicate  infringement 
 of  this  right. 
 
 He  wholly  avoided  those  "  entangling  alliances,"  in  early 
 
EDWARD  TAYSON. 
 
 209 
 
 youth,  which  have  doomed  many  a  man,  either  to  take  to  his 
 bosom  one,  whom,  though  once  his  equal,  he  had  so  far  out- 
 stripped in  the  career  of  mental  improvement,  as  to  produce  a 
 most  mortifying  disparity,  and  preclude  the  hope  of  ever  find- 
 ing in  his  wife  a  companion  fitted  for  rational  intercourse;  — 
 or  else,  to  desert  the  confiding  female,  whose  affections  he  had 
 gained,— an  alternative,  too  base  for  an  honorable-minded  man 
 to  adopt.  Mr.  Payson's  circumspection  is  the  more  remarkable, 
 when  his  ardent  temperament  is  considered ;  and  yet,  as  early 
 as  1805,  the  following  sober  views  are  expressed  in  a  letter  to 
 his  sister : — 
 
 "  When  I  was  at  home,  I  thought  you  appeared  rather  appre- 
 hensive, that  I  should  form  some  connexion,  which,  to  say  the 
 least,  would  be  no  help  to  my  religious  pursuits.  But  you  may 
 lay  aside  this  fear.  I  have  seen  so  much  of  my  own  proneness 
 to  turn  aside,  that  it  is,  and  I  hope  ever  will  be,  my  resolution, 
 not  to  fetter  myself  with  any  voluntary  inducements  to  stray. 
 Besides,  I  think  no  precept  in  the  Bible  is  plainer  than  that 
 which  forbids  us  to  yoke  together  with  unbelievers.  However, 
 I  think  it  probable  enough,  that  this  resolution  may  be  the 
 occasion  of  my  dying  a  bachelor;  but  I  am  not  at  all  anxious 
 about  it." 
 
 When  his  purpose  was  fixed  to  live  no  longer  "  a  bachelor," 
 the  course  which  he  pursued  revealed  the  source  from  which 
 he  always  took  his  lessons.  It  was  as  closely  conformed  to 
 scriptural  example  as  that  of  any  modern  suitor, — having  little 
 more  of  formality  than  that  of  the  patriarchs  of  the  Old  Tes- 
 tament. Still,  he  did  not  court  in  sackcloth,  as  is  evident  from 
 a  note,  written  on  returning  from  his  first  visit,  and  addressed 
 to  his  mother,  whom,  like  a  dutiful  son,  he  had  previously  con- 
 sulted :— 
 
 "  Exeter,  Wed.  Eve. 
 
 "  My  dearest  mother  : — As  I  know  the  deep  interest  you 
 take  in  everything  which  concerns  your  son,  I  will  go  no  farther, 
 before  I  inform  you  of  the  result  of  the  business  on  which  we 
 conversed,  while  I  was  at  home.  I  cannot,  indeed,  go  into 
 particulars ;  but  it  may  be  some  gratification  to  you  to  know, 
 that  the  business  is  concluded  on,  and  nothing  remains  but  to 
 fix  the  wedding  day.    On  this  point  alone  we  differed.  *  *  * 
 
 VOL.  I.  27 
 
210 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "And  now,  my  dearest  mother,  you  must  permit  me  to  exult 
 over  you  a  little.  When  I  used  to  talk  of  getting  a  wife  without 
 losing  any  time  about  it,  you  laughed  at  the  idea,  and  thought 
 it  prepostepous,  impracticable,  and  absurd.  But  you  see,  that 
 without  going  a  mile  purposely  out  of  my  way,  or  losing  a 
 single  hour,  I  have  found  and  courted,  or  rather  Providence  has 
 found  for  me,  a  person,  who  bids  fairer  to  render  me  happy  than 
 any  other  woman  I  have  seen.  It  is  true,  many  things  may  yet 
 intervene  to  prevent  the  contemplated  connexion  ;  but  humanly 
 •speaking,  it  will  take  place.  And  if  it  does  not,  I  trust  I  shall 
 be  resigned,  and  feel  satisfied  that  it  is  for  the  best.  *  *  * 
 At  present,  God  seems  to  have  made  my  way  prosperous  ;  and 
 I  am  more  th^n  ever  persuaded,  that  the  best  way  to  succeed  in 
 any  of  our  temporal  concerns,  is  to  cast  them  upon  him — have 
 nothing  to  do  with  them — and  devote  ourselves  entirely  to  the 
 advancement  of  his  cause.  True,  he  only  can  excite  us  to 
 adopt  this  course  ;  but  when  he  does,  it  is  an  almost  infallible 
 symptom  of  success." 
 
 His  mother  must  have  held  a  pen  of  rare  and  various  powers 
 —  as  piquant  in  satire  as  it  was  judicious  in  counsel,  and  sooth- 
 ing in  consolation.  She  might  have  thought  him  affectedly 
 singular  in  his  notions  of  matrimony,  and  directed  her  strokes 
 accordingly.  At  any  rate,  he  is  seen  smarting  under  her  casti- 
 gation,  in  the  following  letter,  which,  by  the  way,  is  a  very 
 serious  one,  and  shows  a  heart  alive  to  the  danger  of  being 
 diverted,  by  creature  attachments,  from  the  Lord  of  his  affec- 
 tions : — 
 
  "  I  am  sorry  you  are  never  pleased  with  me,  when  I 
 
 write  on  a  certain  subject.  I  fear  this  letter  will  appear  as  little 
 pleasing  as  any  of  its  predecessors.    Since  I  wrote  last,  I  have 
 
 made  another  visit  to  A  .    Circumstances,  which  I  could 
 
 not  foresee,  rendered  it  indispensably  necessary.  I  took  care 
 not  to  be  absent  either  on  Sabbath  or  lecture  day ;  yet  I  felt 
 very  guilty  in  appropriating  so  much  af  my  Master's  time  to  my 
 own  use.  A  voice  seemed  continually  sounding  in  my  ears  — 
 '  What  dost  thou  here,  Elijah  T  Had  it  not  been  for  this,  I 
 verily  believe  Louisa  and  I  should  have  taken  a  trip  to  Rindge. 
 *  '  *  *  But  the  idea  of  forming  new  ties  to  bind  myself  to 
 the  world,  is  dreadful.  1  thought,  at  the  time,  that  I  sincerely 
 Bought  divine  direction  ;  but  I  have  since  been  afraid  that  I  did 
 
EDWARD    PA  YSON. 
 
 211 
 
 hot.  However,  1  know  that  the  Lord  reigns,  and  that  he  will  take 
 care  of  his  glory  ;  and  this  is  enough  for  me.  As  to  my  happi- 
 ness here,  it  is  nothing.  I  neither  expect  any  happiness,  nor 
 wish  for  any,  separate  from  that  which  arises  from  serving  and 
 enjoying  God.  It  is  but  a  day,  an  hour,  a  moment,  and  all  will 
 be  over. 
 
  "  But,  my  dearest  Mother,  how  could  you  write  as  you 
 
 did  respecting  the  views  and  feelings  which  my  letter  expressed? 
 It  was  cruel  to  banter  me  so  ;  at  least,  if  any  other  person,  of 
 as  long  standing  in  religion  as  you,  had  written  in  such  a  man- 
 ner, I  should  have  been  sure  she  was  bantering  me,  and  ridicul- 
 ing my  weakness.  I  shall  be  afraid  to  express  my  feelings 
 again  ;  and,  indeed,  I  did  not  intend  to  do  it  then,  but  they  ran 
 away  with  me  before  I  was  aware.  You  talk  of  my  heights 
 and  depths— Yes,  I  am  deep,  indeed,  in  guilt,  and  my  iniquities 
 are  high  as  the  heavens.  These  are  all  the  heights  and  depths 
 of  which  I  know  anytliing.  Compared  with  old  Christians,  I 
 am  but  a  babe  of  yesterday  ;  and  joys,  which  to  them  woidd 
 appear  things  of  course,  are  sufficient  to  make  my  weak  head 
 run  round.  It  was  for  this  reason  1  thought  my  letter  must 
 appear  a  foolish  rhapsody.  But  I  will  not  say  another  word  on 
 the  subject,  lest  you  should  suppose  I  am  aping  humility." 
 
 The  considerations  by  which  he  defended  himself  against  the 
 fear  of  possible  disappointment,  which  some  communication  of 
 his  cautious  parent  was  adapted  to  excite,  are  striking  and  full 
 of  interest.  To  estimate  aright  his  indifference,  as  to  the  devel- 
 opments of  the  fiuure,  it  should  be  remembered  that  the  negoti- 
 ation had  already  proceeded  too  far  to  render  an  honorable  retreat 
 optional  with  him.  The  pledge  "for  better  or  for  worse,"  had 
 been  virtually  interchanged;  and  the  result,  whether  fruition  or 
 disappointment,  he  was  determined  should  subserve  his  spiritual 
 welfare :  — 
 
 "My  dearest  mother:  —  lam  very  sorry  you  think  me  so 
 heterodox  in  my  notions  respecting  matrimony;  but  I  cannot 
 alter  them.  *  *  Have  I  not  the  best  possible  security,  that 
 all  things  shall  work  together  for  my  good.  I  shall  certainly 
 have  a  good  wife,  and  be  very  happy  with  her,  if  God  sees  best; 
 but  if  he  sees  a  bad  wife  is  a  necessary  trial  for  me,  who  am  I, 
 that  I  should  object  ]    I  should  certainly  feel  very  easy  about 
 
212 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 my  present  welfare,  did  it  depend  entirely  on  your  good  wisnes 
 to  render  me  happy.  How  much  more  reason,  then,  have  I  to 
 be  easy,  since  it  depends  on  my  Father  and  Saviour !  If  I 
 wanted  just  such  a  world  as  this,  for  my  own  private  accom- 
 modation, methinks  I  could  go  and  ask  it  of  my  Saviour,  just 
 as  freely  as  I  would  ask  him  for  a  straw.  He  who  refused  not 
 his  own  blood,  surely  would  not  refuse  me  such  a  trifle  as  a 
 world,  which  he  could  make  with  a  word,  if  he  saw  that  it  was 
 really  necessary  to  my  happiness.  Why  then  should  I  feel  the 
 least  possible  anxiety  about  a  wife?  or  waste  my  Master's  time 
 in  seeking  one?" 
 
 A  few  short  extracts  will  be  sufficient  to  show  the  nature  and 
 manner  of  his  intercourse  with  the  friend  to  whom  he  was 
 affianced: — 
 
  "After  all,  we  shall  be  just  as  much  to  each  other  as 
 
 our  Maker  pleases.  He  can,  and  I  trust  will,  render  us  as  happy 
 as  it  is  best  we  should  be  in  this  life,  and  make  us  a  blessing  to 
 each  other.  With  his  permission,  I  purpose  to  observe  Friday, 
 Dec.  7th,  as  a  day  of  prayer  for  his  blessing  upon  our  union, 
 should  he  permit  it  to  take  place.  I  trust  your  prayers  will 
 ascend  with  mine. 
 
 *  *       *  * 
 
 "I  Avas  delighted  with  what  you  wrote  respecting  our  precious 
 and  adorable  Saviour.  You  cannot  find  a  quicker  and  surer 
 way  to  my  heart,  than  by  praising  and  loving  him.  *  *  *  He 
 is  worthy,  he  is  precious  indeed.  To  the  power,  the  majesty, 
 the  glory  of  God,  he  pnites  the  gentleness,  the  tenderness,  the 
 sympathy  of  a  friend  and  brother.  This  is  just  such  a  Saviour 
 as  we  need. 
 
 *  *       *  * 
 
 "I  arrived  last  evening  much  fatigued.  My  journey,  though 
 quickly  performed,  was  not  unattended  with  danger.  Owing 
 to  the  weakness  of  the  harness,  or  the  carelessness  of  the  driver, 
 the  horses  ran  away  with  us  no.  less  than  three  times,  and  were 
 slopped  only  for  want  of  power  to  proceed.  For  some  minutes, 
 we  expected,  every  instant,  to  be  dashed  in  pieces,  and  my  fellow 
 passengers  were  not  a  little  frightened ;  but  I  knew  that  my 
 heavenly  Father  held  the  reins,  and  felt  unusually  happy. 
 
EDWARD    PAY SON. 
 
 213 
 
  "It  is  a  stifficient  answer  to  your  admonitions  respecting 
 
 /ny  health,  to  say,  that  it  has  rather  improved  than  otherwise 
 the  year  past;  and  shall  I,  then,  distrust  the  power  and  goodness 
 of  God,  and  endeavor,  by  diminishing  my  labors,  to  lay  up  a 
 stock  of  health  for  a  future  period,  which,  after  all,  I  may  never 
 live  to  see? 
 
 *  *  *  * 
 "I  have  suffered  every  conceivable  kind  of  spiritual  distress 
 myself,  and  have  seen  too  much  of  the  good  effects  of  it  to  be 
 much  grieved  when  I  see  others  suffering  the  same.  I  know- 
 that  Christ  is  with  them  in  the  furnace,  and  will  bring  them 
 forth  as  gold;  and,  therefore,  though  I  sympathize  with  them  I 
 am  rather  pleased  than  sorry  to  see  them  distressed.  ...  I 
 have  long  considered  a  growing  acquaintance  with  the  desperate 
 wickedness  and  surpassing  deceitfulness  of  the  heart,  as  almost 
 the  only  mark  of  a  real  Christian,  which  Satan  cannot  coun- 
 terfeit. " 
 
 From  a  union,  formed  on  such  principles,  the  happiest  results 
 were  to  be  expected.  That  gracious  Being,  whose  blessing  they 
 had  supplicated,  more  than  answered  their  requests.  On  taking 
 possession  of  the  habitation  prepared  for  their  reception,  they 
 entered  on  their  new  condition  as  a  separate  family,  with  special 
 acknowledgments  of  God.  "In  the  evening,"  says  tiie  diary, 
 "had  a  meeting  by  way  of  dedicating  our  house.  It  was  a  very 
 solemn,  melting  season.  Afterwards,  was  greatly  favored  in 
 secret  prayer.  Knew  not  how  to  give  over  praying,  the  employ- 
 ment was  so  sweet.  Could  scarcely  ask  any  thing  for  myself, 
 but  only  that  God  might  be  glorified." — He  lost  no  time  in 
 making  his  mother  a  partaker  of  his  joy : — 
 
 "My  dearest  mother: — I  must  tell  you  how  happy  I  am; 
 happy,  not  because  I  have  one  of  the  best  of  wives ;  not  because 
 I  live  in  the  midst  of  a  grateful  and  affectionate  people;  not 
 because  I  am  surrounded  by  an  abundance  of  the  good  things 
 of  this  life;  but  because  I  enjoy  God  in  all  these  things. 
 
 "We  went  to  house-keeping  yesterday.  I  felt,  in  some  meas- 
 ure, as  I  wished  to  feel  on  such  an  occasion.  It  was  a  blessed 
 evening,  and  this  has  been  a  blessed  morning. — My  dearest 
 mother,  I  must  let  my  heart  have  vent. — All  my  days,  I  have 
 
214 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 grieved,  provoked,  and  dishonored  God,  and  he  has  done  nothing 
 bnt  heap  favors,  and  pardons,  and  honors  npon  me.  O,  it  affects 
 me,  to  think  of  his  goodness.  O  that  all  the  world  knew  now- 
 vile  I  have  been,  and  how  good  he  has  been  in  return.  Could 
 Christians  know  his  dealings  with  such  a  wretch,  they  wonld 
 sinely  never,  never  distrust  him  again.  And  yet  I,  who  do 
 know  it,  shall  distrust  him  again.  I  shall  again  grieve  and 
 provoke  him,  as  in  times  past,  and  perhaps,  be  left  to  bring  a 
 reproach  upon  religion.  I  never  felt  myself  to  be  so  much  in 
 danger  as  at  this  moment.  I  am  happy  in  my  own  soul — happy 
 in  my  external  circumstances;  but  I  rejoice  with  trembling.  I 
 dare  not  resolve  that  I  will  not  suffer  myself  to  be  led  away  or 
 lifted  up.  I  dare  not  say,  that,  by  to-morrow,  I  shall  not  feel 
 stupid  and  ungrateful  as  a  block ;  or  even  full  of  rage  and  en- 
 mity as  a  devil.  But  I  never  felt  more  able  to  hang  upon  Christ, 
 and  trust  him  to  keep  me  up.  He  know  s,  I  trust,  it  is  my  ear- 
 nest desire  to  be  stripped  of  all  my  blessings,  and  left  utterly 
 destitute,  rather  than  be  drawn  by  them  away  from  him. 
 
 "My  people  have  been  wonderfully  kind.  As  soon  as  we  got 
 into  our  house,  they  sent  us  two  cart-loads  of  provisions,  &.c.  (fee. 
 including  every  article,  however  trifling,  which  could  be  wanted 
 in  a  family.  This  Avas  kind  in  them,  but  still  more  kind  in  my 
 heavenly  Father.  O,  may  I  never  forget,  that,  whoever  may  be 
 the  stream.  He  is  the  Fountain. 
 
 "  And  now,  my  dearest  mother,  what  more  shall  I  say?  You 
 have  nothing  to  wish  for,  nothing  to  pray  for,  as  it  respects  your 
 happy  son,  but  that  he  may  not  be  rendered  slothful,  or  vain,  or 
 proud,  by  prosperity ;  that  his  love  and  zeal  for  his  divine  Master 
 may  increase  with  his  mercies,  and  that  he  may  be  prepared  for 
 a  day  of  adversity ;  for  such  a  day  must  come.  Well,  let  it 
 come,  if  God  so  pleases.  Welcome  any  thing  that  he  sees  fit  to 
 send. 
 
 "Notwithstanding  your  fears,  I  do  not  yet  love  my  parents 
 one  whit  less  than  before.  It  almost  doubles  my  happiness  to 
 think  of  their  sharing  it." 
 
 On  his  birth-day,  next  following  this  event,  he  writes : — 
 
 "  The  past  year  has  been  one  of  the  most  important  of  my  life. 
 I  have  seen  much,  very  much  of  the  goodness  of  God,  and  of 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 215 
 
 my  own  vileness.  I  have  formed  a  connexion  which  will  have 
 an  influence  lasting  as  eternity,  and  I  have  reason  to  hope  that 
 the  divine  blessing  has  attended  it." 
 
 Two  letters  will  here  be  introduced,  whose  dates  would  assign 
 them  a  later  place,  but  which  are  connected  with  the  paragraphs 
 just  quoted,  by  the  domestic  nature  of  their  contents.  The 
 second  is  from  his  mother,  congratulating  him  upon  the  birth  of 
 his  first-born,  and  must  supply  the  place  of  his  own  reflections 
 on  that  event;  for  at  that  time  his  diary  is  silent,  and  the  letter 
 which  bore  the  tidings  to  his  parents  has  not  been  preserved. 
 
 "Portland,  Jan.  20,  1812. 
 "  My  dearest  mother:  —  Were  you  with  us  to-day,  you  would 
 see  a  strange  mixture  of  joy  and  grief  among  us.  Your  letter 
 to  Grata,  especially  that  part  of  it  which  relates  to  my  brothers, 
 gave  us  as  much  joy  as  we  can  ever  expect  to  feel,  in  one  day, 
 while  inhabitants  of  this  changing  world.  It  made  our  hearts 
 leap  within  us  to  hear  of  poor  Eben,  or  rather  rich  Eben,  as  1 
 hope  we  may  now  call  him.  But — there  must  always  be  a  'but,' 
 till  we  get  to  heaven  —  the  same  mail,  that  brought  this  welcome 
 intelligence,  brought  a  letter  from  New  Haven,  informing  us  of 
 the  death  of  Louisa's  brother  Henry.  She  is,  of  course,  in  great 
 affliction,  for  she  had  little  if  any  evidence  that  he  was  prepared 
 for  this  event.  I  begin  now  to  find,  for  the  first  time,  that,  by 
 doubling  myself,  I  have  doubled  my  sorrows,  an^  rendered  my- 
 self a  broader  mark  for  the  arrows  of  niisfortuue.  However,  I 
 am  content  to  meet  with  a  few  deductions  from  the  happiness 
 which  wedlock  affords.  I  should  otherwise  be  almost  too  happy 
 for  my  spiritual  welfare.  I  am  fully  of  your  opinion,  that  mar- 
 riage is  a  wonderfully  wi.se  and  gracious  institution,  and  shows, 
 in  a  striking  point  of  light,  the  goodness  of  our  heavenly  Father. 
 I  am  also  convinced,  that,  when  properly  managed,  it  is  no  less 
 favorable  to  religion.  You  will  think  that  1  write  like  a  new- 
 married  man;  and  will,  probably  enough,  conclude  that,  in  a 
 few  years,  I  shall  feel  diflerently.  It  is  very  possible  that  I  may; 
 but  hitherto  my  happiness  has  been  continually  increasing.  We 
 are  much  more  attached  to  each  other  than  we  were  at  first,  ana 
 daily  see  new  cause  to  admire  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  him 
 who  fitted  us  for  each  other,  and  brought  us  together.    I  have, 
 
216 
 
 MEMOIR    O  F 
 
 I  may  almost  say.  more  temporal  mercies  than  I  wish  for,  ana 
 they  are  continually  increasing;  they  come  without  asking; 
 but  neither  by  asking,  nor  in  any  other  way,  am  I  equally  con- 
 scious of  obtaining  those  spiritual  blessings,  which  I  wish  for, 
 and  which  seem  indispensably  necessary.  However,  I  do  not 
 flatter  myself  that  my  present  happiness  will  continue  long. 
 Perhaps  a  few  weeks  will  deprive  me  of  her,  whose  society 
 constitutes  so  large  a  share  of  it.  God's  will  be  done.  I  trust 
 that  he  has,  in  some  measure,  prepared  me  for  such  an  event.  I 
 have  viewed  it  in  every  possible  ponit  of  light;  and,  so  far  as  I 
 can  judge,  feel  willing,  yes,  blessed  be  his  name!  perfectly  wil- 
 ling, that  he  should  do  what  he  will  with  his  own.  *  *  *  We 
 shall  have  your  prayers,  I  doubt  not.  O  how  much  am  I  already 
 indebted  to  them ! 
 
 "I  cannot  close,  without  adverting  again  to  the  blessed  change 
 you  mention  in  our  family.  Give  my  love  to  E.  Charge  H. 
 and  P.  to  'strive'  as  well  as  seek;  to  'repent'  and  pray  —  and 
 not  to  pray  first,  in  order  to  repent  afterwards.  And  urge  Eliza 
 to  follow  the  example  of  her  brothers,  and  remember  her  Crea- 
 tor in  the  days  of  her  youth. 
 
 "March,  27,  1812. 
 "My  ever  dear  son: — Your  last  was,  indeed,  fraught  with 
 precious  tidings; — and  we  are  now  to  view  you  and  your  dear 
 Louisa,  as  sustaining  a  new,  and  very  important  relation  in  life. 
 May  gracious  Heaven  look  with  benignity  upon  this  dear  object 
 of  your  mutual  affections,  and  realize  your  best  wishes  in  its 
 behalf  Precious  babe  !  already  do  I  clasp  it  in  my  affections, 
 and  implore  the  blessing  of  Heaven  upon  it.  Great  is  the  fatigue, 
 the  cave,  the  anxiety,  of  rearing  a  family  ;  but  if  it  is  performed 
 aright,  it  is  a  blessed  work. — You  have  yet  to  learn  how  difficult 
 the  task,  and  how  much  patience,  prudence,  and  grace,  is  requi- 
 site to  qualify  us  to  be  faithful  to  the  sacred  trust  deposited  in 
 our  keeping.  Yet,  for  your  encouragement,  and  as  a  debt  of 
 gratitude  due  to  our  most  gracious  Parent,  I  freely  acknowledge 
 myself  amply  compensated  for  all  I  have  ever  suffered  or  done 
 for  my  Edward.  Alas!  I  have  been  exceedingly  deficient  in 
 my  duty  to  my  children;  but  with  what  ineffable  goodness  has 
 God  pardoned  my  unfaithfulness,  and  noticed  every  sincere 
 attempt  to  discharge^  in  any  measure,  the  important  duties  of  a 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 217 
 
 mother,  and,  ia  some  instances,  done  more  for  them  than  I  ever 
 thought  or  asked.  May  he  enable  you  to  receive  this  little  one 
 from  his  gracious  hands,  and,  as  he  requires,  bring  it  up  for  him. 
 You  were  very  kind  to  write  me  so  soon;  it  was  a  proof  of 
 affection,  for  which  my  heart  thanks  you — but  we  are  looking 
 impatiently  for  another  letter. 
 
 "Your  good  father*  put  on  one  of  his  best  smiles,  upon  hear- 
 ing he  was  a  grandfather.  '  Ah  !'  he  says,  '  what  is  it  ?  a  son, 
 or  a  daughter?  with  other  inquiries.  He  smiled  when  he 
 read — 'babe  made  the  house  ring;'  and  observed,  you  would 
 not  want  for  music  of  that  kind,  he  supposed.  He  is  in  very 
 good  health,  and  now  attending  a  conference  in  a  remote  part 
 of  the  town.  ***** 
 
 "May  you  be  guided  safely  amidst  the  innumerable  snares 
 which  await  our  every  step,  and  your  path,  like  the  rising  light, 
 shine  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day.    Tims  prays 
 
 "  Your  affectionate  mother." 
 
 In  December,  IBll,  the  sole  care  of  the  church  and  parish 
 devolved  on  him,  in  consequence  of  the  dissolution  of  the  senior 
 pastor's  relation  to  the  church,  agreeably  to  the  advice  of  coun- 
 cil mutually  called. 
 
 An  event  of  this  kind  is  usually  of  all-absorbing  interest  to 
 a  people,  and  seldom  fails  to  divert  attention  from  the  impor- 
 tant concern  of  personal  religion.  But  such  does  not  appear  to 
 have  been  the  effect,  in  the  present  case,  to  any  very  lamentable 
 
 *  The  fiither  of  Mr.  Payson,  though  he  appears  less  prominent  in  this  Me- 
 inoir  than  his  mother,  was,  nevertheless,  deservedly  ranked  atnong  the  first 
 men  in  New  Hampshire.  Indeed,  he  stood  high  m  the  confidence  of  the 
 religious  jjublic  throughout  New  England ;  and  his  counsel  and  active  exer- 
 tions were  much  employed  in  promoting  the  general  interests  of  literature 
 and  religion.  In  furtherance  of  these,  he  made  several  long  joiu-neys  on 
 horseback;  once  or  twice  as  far  as  Philadelphia,  on  business  for  Dartmouth 
 College,  of  which  he  was  one  of  the  Trustees.  He  was  also  a  member  of 
 the  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions,  as  was  his  son 
 after  him.  His  various  public  engagements,  in  addition  to  his  pastoral  duties, 
 so  engrossed  his  time,  that  the  family  correspondence  devolved  almost  entirely 
 on  Mrs.  Payson,  who  held  "  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer. "  It  was  unavoidable, 
 therefore,  that  in  a  memoir,  made  up  in  part  of  epistolary  correspondence, 
 the  mother  should  occupy  the  more  conspicuous  place. 
 VOL.  I.  28 
 
218  MEMOIR  OF 
 
 extent — the  accession  to  the  church,  this  year,  being  thirty- 
 nine,  and  the  subsequent  year,  considerably  greater  than  any 
 precediug.  He  closed  the  labors  of  this  year  with  a  most  sea- 
 sonable discourse  from  2  Cor.  iv.  13,  "We  also  believe,  and 
 therefore  speak  ;"  in  which  he  attempted  to  state  the  principal 
 doctrines  which  Paul  professed  to  believe — to  show  that  he  did 
 actually  believe  them  —  that  he  had  sufficient  reasons  to  believe 
 them — ^and  that  his  belief  necessarily  led  him  to  preach  and 
 conduct  in  the  manner  he  did.  The  sermon  is  a  happy  exem- 
 plification of  ministerial  address  and  of  ministerial  faithfulness. 
 He  could  not  have  taken  a  more  unexceptionable  method  of 
 presenting  his  own  views,  than  by  exhibiting  what  Paul  believ- 
 ed and  taught ;  nor  more  completely  have  justified  the  earnest- 
 ness with  which  he  pressed  them  upon  his  hearers,  than  by 
 bringing  into  view  the  momentous  interests  which  they  involve. 
 To  those  who  are  familiar  with  the  epistles  of  Paul,  it  is  hardly 
 necessary  to  say,  that  his  sketch  asserts  the  fall  of  man,  and 
 the  consequent  universal  depravity  of  the  human  race  ;  and  thfe 
 other  doctrines,  peculiar  to  the  Christian  system,  which  neces- 
 sarily result  from  this,  respecting  the  personal  glories  and 
 mediatorial  offices  of  Christ,  and  the  way  of  a  sinner's  justifica- 
 tion and  acceptance  with  God.  It  was  a  popular  and  useful 
 defence  of  evangelical  doctrines,  and  of  ministerial  zeal,  and 
 was  applied  to  the  auditory  with  pungent  force. 
 
 His  diary,  during  this  year,  authorizes  some  inferences  be- 
 sides that  of  his  spirituality  and  devotion  to  his  work.  A  few 
 short  extracts  of  each  kind  will  form  an  appropriate  conclusion 
 to  the  chapter  :  — 
 
 "  July  17.  Heard  much,  to-day,  of  the  rage  of  opposers ; 
 found  others  much  discouraged  by  it.  Was  driven  by  it  to  the 
 throne  of  grace,  and  there  found  unusual  enlargement  in  plead- 
 ing for  the  effusion  of  the  Spirit.  Never  felt  more  drawn  out 
 in  prayer  for  this,  and  could  not  help  hoping  that  he  would 
 espouse  our  cause.  Was  deeply  alTected  with  the  sovereign 
 goodness  of  God. 
 
 "  Aug.  O,  what  a  privilege  it  would  be  to  have  strength  to 
 labor  all  the  time  for  God. 
 
 "  Sept.  24,  25.  Was  called  up  at  midnight  by  some  mis- 
 chievous person,  and  sent  off  to  see  a  person  said  to  be  dying. 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 219 
 
 .  .  ,  Found  it  a  serious  joke  to  me,  for  I  took  eold,  and  was 
 sick  several  days. 
 
 "  Sept  29.  Had  a  most  refreshing  season,  this  morning,  in 
 erayer.  Felt  most  intense  hatred  of  sin,  and  desired  to  be  free 
 ^•om  its  power. 
 
 "  Oct.  5.  Have  been  abmidantly  convinced,  to-day,  that  it 
 is  not  a  vain  thing  to  call  upon  God.  Was  remarkably  assisted 
 in  preparing  for  to-moiTow.  In  the  evening,  was  favored  with 
 an  uncommonly  precious  season  in  prayer.  O,  how  ditierent 
 does  every  thing  appear,  when  God  is  present!  He  is  indeed 
 all  in  all  to  me. 
 
 .  "  Oct.  8.  Enjoyed  a  most  delightful  season  in  prayer.  Had 
 such  strong  confidence  hi  God,  from  a  view  of  his  willingness 
 to  give,  that  I  felt  ready  to  ask  and  expect  every  thing  in  his 
 power  to  bestow.  Knew  not  how  to  stop,  till  I  was  utterly  ex- 
 hausted. 
 
 "  Oct.  10.  Had  some  different  views  of  Christ  and  heaven 
 from  any  I  ever  before  enjoyed,  so  that  I  felt  the  fullest  assur- 
 ance of  salvation,  and  wished  to  be  saved,  that  I  might  praise 
 and  love  God  perfectly. 
 
 "  Oct.  22.  Was  enabled  to  cast  all  my  cares  on  the  Lord, 
 and  felt  hghtened.  Never  did  the  Bible  seem  so  sweet,  never 
 did  the  light  of  God's  countenance  seem  so  exquisitely  precious 
 as  now ;  nor  did  I  ever  more  need  it. 
 
 "  Oct.  24.  In  the  course  of  the  day,  saw  an  Indian.  Was 
 instantly  struck,  and  much  affected  with  a  sense  of  his  wretch- 
 ed condition.  Never  had  such  feelings  before.  In  the  evening, 
 had  great  freedom  in  praying  for  poor  savages  and  others,  who 
 are  destitute  of  the  light  of  the  gospel. 
 
 "  Nov.  7.  Felt  a  little  revived.  Set  up  a  little  prayer  meet- 
 ing in  my  family,  for  a  revival,  and  had  some  liberty. 
 
 "  Nov.  28.  Had  a  most  refreshing  and  delightful  season  in 
 prayer  this  morning.  Felt  something  of  the  life  and  power  of 
 religion  through  the  day.  In  the  evening,  preached,  ....  and 
 was  uncommonly  assisted,  and  the  people  appeared  much  af- 
 fected. Felt  much  gratitude  to  God  for  his  assistance,  and 
 much  encouraged  respecting  a  revival. '' 
 
CHAPTEE  XIII. 
 
 Forms  of  prayer  —  Thoughts  on  pubhc  prayer — Hissmcerity  —  The  iiiipor- 
 tince  of  tliis  quality  to  a  minister's  success. 
 
 "  You  Avould  greatly  oblige  me  by  loaning  me  a  copy  of  your 
 prayer  to-day,"  said  a  distinguished  lady  to  Dr.  Payson,  as  he 
 was  retiring  from  the  house  of  worship  on  a  memorable  occa- 
 sion. She  was  surprised  on  behig  told  that  it  had  vanished 
 with  the  breath  which  gave  it  utterance.  This  lady  was  not 
 an  attendant  on  his  ministry,  but  had  come,  at  this  time,  with 
 the  expectation  of  seeing  La  Fayette  in  the  assembly,  and,  in 
 common  with  many  others,  Avas  filled  with  admiration  of  the 
 intercessory  part  of  the  exercises,  as  differing  from  all  she  had 
 ever  heard,  in  richness  and  appropriateness  of  matter,  as  well 
 as  in  fervor  of  utterance.  Few,  it  is  believed,  ever  heard  him, 
 for  the  first  time,  even  in  the  family  or  on  the  most  common 
 occasion,  without  experiencmg  kindred  emotions.  The  wonder, 
 too,  was  enhanced,  rather  than  diminished,  by  every  repetition 
 of  the  exercise.  To  those  whose  devotions  he  led  for  twenty 
 years,  in  the  sanctuary,  in  the  conference  room,  by  the  sick  bed, 
 at  festivals,  and  funerals,  every  prayer  seemed  to  have  all  the 
 freshness  of  originality.  His  resources  for  this  duty  appeared 
 to  be  absolutely  inexhaustible.  There  was  something  in  his 
 prayers  powerful  to  arrest  and  fix  attention — something  which 
 seized  and  absorbed  the  faculties  of  the  soul,  and  separated  it, 
 for  the  time  being,  at  least,  from  its  connexions  with  "this 
 present  evil  world."  The  full,  deep,  reverent,  flexible,  suppli- 
 ant tones  of  his  voice,  as  far  removed  from  the  cant  of  the 
 
EDWARD    P  AYSON. 
 
 221 
 
 fanatic  as  they  were  from  the  levity  of  the  witling,  contribuled 
 something  to  the  effect  of  his  public  devotions. 
 
 The  question  has  been  asked,  by  more  than  one  distinguished 
 minister,  since  Dr.  Pay  son's  death,  whether  he  left  behind  him 
 any  written  forms  of  prayer.  So  far  from  this,  it  is  believed  he 
 never  wrote  a  prayer.  There  are,  indeed,  interspersed  through- 
 out his  private  writings  and  sermons,  numerous  ejuculations 
 and  supplicatory  paragraphs  ;  but  nothing  intended  exclusively 
 as  a  prayer.  His  "  Confession  and  Form  of  Covenant,"  in  a 
 preceding  chapter,  bears  the  nearest  resemblance  to  a  prayer, 
 of  any  thing  which  has  been  discovered  from  his  pen,  and  will 
 give  a  better  idea,  than  any  description,  of  the  leading  impres- 
 sions which  his  prayers  produced  on  the  hearers,  namely,  the 
 infinite  disparity  which  exists  between  God  and  the  creature,  at 
 the  same  time  that  it  brings  to  view  numerous  particulars  in 
 which  this  contrast  may  be  seen.  "  God  is  in  heaven,  and  we 
 upon  earth,"  was  the  great  truth  which  stood  forth  with  distin- 
 guished prominence  in  his  invocations,  confessions,  pleadings, 
 intercessions,  and  ascriptions.  "  God  is  in  this  place,"  was  a 
 truth  not  less  vividly  impressed  on  the  minds  of  his  auditors 
 when  he  poured  out  his  soul  in  prayer.  They  saw,  they  felt, 
 that  he  pleaded  with  a  present  God.  His  prayers  conformed, 
 with  singular  felicity,  to  his  own  definition  of  the  exercise, 
 which  makes,  it  "  a  kind  of  devout  poetry,  the  whole  subject 
 matter  of  which  is  furnished  by  the  heart ;  and  the  understand- 
 ing is  only  allowed  to  shape  and  arrange  the  effusions  of  the 
 heart  in  the  manner  best  adapted  to  honor  the  Being  to  whom 
 prayer  is  addressed,  and  to  excite  and  direct  the  devotional  feel- 
 ings of  his  worshippers." 
 
 But  a  thousand  forms,  of  his  prayers  even,  could  never  teach 
 another  to  pray  like  him.  He  neither  found  for  himself,  nor 
 could  he  mark  out  for  others,  a  "  royal  road  "  to  the  throne  of 
 grace  ;  and  the  "  gift  of  prayer,"  for  which  he  was  so  eminent, 
 was  not  attained  without  corresponding  efforts  on  his  part.  It 
 was  by  his  daily  retired  practice,  that  he  became  so  skilful  and 
 prevailing  a  pleader  with  his  God.  There  can  be  no  doubt  on 
 this  point.  His  journal,  through  several  successive  years, 
 records  repeated  seasons  of  prayer  for  almost  every  day; 
 together  with  the  state  of  his  affections,  and  the  exercise  or 
 want  of  those  graces  which  constitute  the  "  spirit  of  supplica- 
 
222 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 tion."  It  requires  much  of  a  devotional  spirit  even  to  read 
 these  perpetually  recurring  descriptions  of  his  "  wrestling  ia 
 prayer,"  of  his  "  near  access  to  the  mercy-seat,"  as  well  as  of 
 those  difficulties  which  sometimes  barred  his  approach  ;  for,  to 
 an  undevout  mind,  they  would  present  nothing  but  a  wearisome, 
 disgusting,  endless  monotony.  When  the  inventive  character 
 of  his  mind  is  considered,  its  exquisite  delight  in  every  thing 
 that  was  original,  these  records  exhibit  the  most  infallible  evi- 
 dence of  his  love  for  devotion.  His  continuing  instant  in 
 prayer,  be  his  circumstances  what  they  might,  is  the  most  no- 
 ticeable fact  in  his  history,  and  points  out  the  duty  of  all  who 
 would  rival  his  eminency.  There  is  no  magic  about  it.  "  The 
 arrow  that  would  pierce  the  clouds  must  go  from  the  nerved 
 arm  and  the  bent  bow."  But  if  prayer,  to  be  successful,  must 
 be  ardent,  so  must  it  be  not  fitful,  but  habitual. 
 
 If,  however,  he  has  not  left  a  form,  he  has,  happily,  left 
 some  thoughts  on  public  prayer,  which  will  lie  of  greater  value, 
 especially  to  ministers  of  the  gospel ;  and,  as  in  his  practice  he 
 illustrated  his  own  instructions,  a  stranger  to  him  may  obtain, 
 from  them  a  better  knowledge  of  his  manner,  than  from  any 
 description  of  it  by  another  hand. 
 
 "  \Vliat  are  the  principal  excellencies  which  should  be  cultivated,  and  the 
 defects  which  should  be  avoided,  by  ministers  of  the  gospel,  iu  the  per- 
 forniance  of  their  public  devotional  exercises  ? 
 
 "  The  excellence  of  any  performance  consists  in  its  being 
 adapted  to  answer  the  end  for  which  it  is  designed.  So  far  as 
 it  is  not  adapted  to  answer  that  end,  it  must  be  considered  defec- 
 tive. The  design  of  public  prayer,  considered  as  a  part  of  min- 
 isterial duty,  is  to  honor  the  being  to  whom  it  is  addressed,  and 
 to  excite  and  direct  the  devotional  feelings  of  his  worshippers. 
 These  two  objects,  though  distinct,  are  inseparably  connected, 
 and  are  to  be  attained  by  the  same  means;  for  it  will  ever  be 
 found,  that  that  mode  of  performing  the  duty  of  public  prayer, 
 which  is  best  adapted  to  promote  the  honor  of  God,  is  best  cal- 
 culated to  excite  and  direct  the  devotional  feelings  of  the  hear- 
 ers. That  our  devotional  performances  may  secure  the  attain- 
 ment of  these  united  objects,  they  must  be  the  echo  of  a  fervently 
 pious  heart,  guided  by  a  judicious  and  enlightened  mind,  to  the 
 voice  of  God,  as  uttered  in  his  works  and  his  word.    An  expres- 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON, 
 
 223 
 
 siou  of  the  psalmist  will  illustrate  my  meaning: — 'When  thou 
 saidst,  Seek  ye  my  face,  my  heart  said  unto  thee,  Thy  face, 
 Lord,  will  I  seek.'  In  a  similar  manner  should  our  public 
 addresses  to  God  be  the  echo  of  his  language  to  us.  Our  ado- 
 rations and  ascriptions  of  praise  should  thus  respond  to  what 
 he  has  revealed  of  his  natural  and  moral  perfections  ;  our  con- 
 fessions, to  the  charges  which  he  has  preferred  against  iis,  and 
 to  the  punishments  with  which  he  threatens  us ;  our  petitions 
 and  intercessions,  to  his  commands,  his  promises,  and  the  de- 
 scription he  has  given  of  our  own  wants,  and  those  of  our  fel- 
 low-creatures ;  and  our  thanksgivings,  to  the  favors  which  he 
 has  bestowed  on  ourselves,  our  countrymen,  and  our  race. 
 When  our  devotional  performances  thus  echo  back  the  voice  of 
 God,  we  cannot  fail  to  promote  both  his  glory,  and  the  edifica- 
 tion of  our  people.  We  then  follow  a  guide  which  cannot  mis- 
 lead us ;  we  express  the  very  feelings  which  his  language  to  us 
 is  designed  and  calculated  to  excite;  we  set  our  seal  to  the  truth 
 of  his  declarations,  say  Amen  to  all  that  he  has  seen  fit  to  re- 
 veal to  us,  and  teach  our  hearers  to  do  the  same.  Thus,  while 
 we  avoid  the  too  common  fault  of  preaching  in  prayer,  our 
 prayers  will  preach,  and  prove  no  less  instructive  than  our  ser- 
 mons. We  shall,  at  the  same  time,  excite  them,  to  pray,  and 
 teach  them  how  to  pray.  While  we  speak  as  the  mouth  of  our 
 people  to  God,  we  shall,  in  an  indirect,  but  most  impressive 
 manner,  be  the  mouth  of  God  to  our  people,  and  set  before  them 
 their  duty,  as  it  respects  both  faith  and  practice,  in  a  way  least 
 calculated  to  offend,  and  in  those  solemn  moments  when  the 
 exhibition  of  truth  is  most  likely  to  aflfect  them. 
 
 "If  the  preceding  remarks  be  just,  it  will  be  easy  to  infer 
 from  them  what  are  the  principal  faults  which  should  be  avoid- 
 ed by  us  in  leading  the  devotions  of  our  hearers. 
 
 "  In  the  first  place,  I  conceive  that  our  devotional  performan- 
 ces are  too  often  the  language  of  the  understanding,  rather  than 
 of  the  heart.  It  has  been  observed  that  they  should  be  the 
 echo  of  a  fervently-pious  heart,  guided  by  an  enlightened 
 understanding,  to  the  voice  of  God.  It  is  not,  perhaps,  uncan- 
 did  to  remark,  that  our  expressions,  in  public  prayer,  are  not 
 always  guided  by  an  enlightened  understanding;  but  still  less 
 frequently,  probably,  are  they  the  echo  of  a  fervently  pious 
 heart  to  the  voice  of  God.    They  too  often  consist,  almost  en- 
 
224 
 
 M  E  JI  0  I  R  OF 
 
 lircly,  of  passages  of  Scripture — not  always  judiciously  chosen, 
 or  well  arranged — and  common-place  phrases,  Avliich  have 
 been  transmuted  down,  for  ages,  from  one  generation  of  minis- 
 ters to  another,  selected  and  put  together  just  as  we  would  com- 
 pose a  sermon  or  essay,  while  the  heart  is  allowed  no  share  in 
 the  performance ;  so  that  we  may  more  properly  be  said  to  make 
 a  prayer,  than  to  pray.  The  consequence  is,  that  our  devo- 
 tional performances  are  too  often  cold  and  spiritless:  as  the 
 heart  did  not  assist  in  composing,  it  disdains  to  aid  ui  uttcruig 
 them.  They  have  almost  as  much  of  a  form,  as  if  we  made 
 use  of  a  liturgy;  while  the  peculiar  excellences  of  a  liturgy  are 
 wanting.  Our  hearers  soon  become  familiarized  to  oiu'  expres- 
 sions, and  not  unfrequently  learn  to  anticipate  them;  and, 
 though  they  may  possibly  be  instructed,  their  devotional  feel- 
 ings arc  not  excited. 
 
 "  That  public  prayer  may  produce  its  proper  and  designed 
 effects  upon  their  hearts,  it  should  be,  if  I  may  so  express  it,  a 
 kind  of  devout  poetry.  As  in  poetry,  so  in  prayer,  tlie  whole 
 subject  matter  should  be  furnished  by  the  heart;  and  the  under- 
 standing should  be  allowed  only  to  shape  and  arrange  the  effu- 
 sions of  the  heart  in  the  manner  best  adapted  to  answer  the 
 end  designed.  From  the  fulness  of  a  heart  overflowing  with 
 holy  affections,  as  from  a  copious  fountain,  we  should  pour  forth 
 a  torrent  of  pious,  humble,  and  ardently  affectionate  feelings; 
 while  our  understandings  only  shape  the  channel,  and  teach  the 
 gushing  streams  of  devotion  where  to  flow,  and  when  to  stop. 
 In  such  a  prayer,  every  pious  heart  among  our  hearers  will  join. 
 They  will  hear  a  voice  and  utterance  given  to  their  own  feel- 
 ings. They  will  hear  their  own  desires  and  emotions  expressed 
 more  fully  and  perspicuously  than  they  could  express  them 
 themselves.  Their  hearts  will  spring  forward  to  meet  and  unite 
 with  the  heart  of  the  speaker.  The  well  of  water,  which  our 
 Saviour  assures  us  is  in  all  who  drink  of  his  Spirit,  Avill  rise, 
 and  burst  its  way  through  the  rubbish  of  wordly  cares  and 
 aflections,  which  too  often  choke  it ;  and  the  stream  of  devotion, 
 from  many  hearts,  will  unite,  and  flow  on,  in  one  broad  tide,  to 
 the  throne  of  Jehovah;  while,  with  one  mind  and  one  mouth, 
 minister  and  people  glorify  God.  Such  was  the  prayer  of  Ezra, 
 and  such  its  eflfects  : — '  And  Ezra  blessed  the  Lord,  the  great 
 God.    And  all  the  people  answered,  Amen,  amen,  with  hfting 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 225 
 
 up  of  their  hands;  and  they  bowed  their  heads,  and  worshipped 
 the  Lord  with  their  faces  toward  the  ground.' 
 
 "  Leading  the  devotion  of  our  people  in  this  manner  will  pre- 
 serve us  from  another  fault,  less  important,  indeed,  but  not  less 
 common  than  that  which  has  just  been  mentioned,  and  which, 
 in  part,  is  occasioned  by  it.  It  consists  in  uttering  the  different 
 parts  of  prayer  in  the  same  tone.  When  our  prayers  are  the 
 language  of  the  understanding  only,  this  will  always  be  done ; 
 but  not  so  when  they  flow  from  the  heart.  No  person  need  be 
 informed,  that,  in  our  intercourse  with  each  other,  a  different 
 modification  of  the  voice  is  employed  to  express  every  different 
 emotion  of  the  heart.  No  one  would  expect  to  hear  a  con- 
 demned malefactor  plead  for  his  life,  and  return  thanks  for  a 
 pardon,  in  the  same  tone.  And  why  is  it  not  equally  unnatural 
 for  sinful  beings,  condemned  to  eternal  death,  to  plead  for  par- 
 don, and  return  thanks  for  its  bestowal,  in  the  same  tone  1  Yet 
 how  often  is  this  done  !  How  often  do  we  hear  prayers  flow 
 on,  from  the  commencement  to  the  close,  in  the  same  uniform 
 tone,  with  scarcely  a  perceptible  inflection  of  the  voice  !  Yet 
 no  two  things  can  differ  more  widely  than  the  feelings  which 
 are  expressed  in  different  parts  of  the  same  prayer.  Surely, 
 then,  a  corresponding  difference  ought  to  be  perceived  in  the 
 modifications  of  the  voice.  In  every  other  public  expression  of 
 our  feelings,  such  a  difference  is  expected  and  required.  The 
 eftect  of  the  most  eloquent  composition  would  be  greatly  im- 
 paired, not  to  say  wholly  destroyed,  by  a  delivery  perfectly  mo- 
 notonous. The  effects  of  the  same  cause  upon  devotional  per- 
 formances will  be  similar.  Where  no  fervency  of  feeling  is 
 indicated,  it  will  usually  be  found  that  none  is  excited ;  and, 
 since  one  principal  design  of  public  prayer  is  to  excite  the  devo- 
 tional feelings  of  the  hearers,  it  is  evident  that  a  fault  which  so 
 powerfully  tends  to  defeat  this  design  cannot  be  a  fault  of  tri- 
 fling consequence.  I  am,  however,  aware,  that  in  attempting 
 to  avoid  this  fault,  the  exercise  of  great  care,  and  of  much  judg- 
 ment and  good  taste,  is  requisite  to  preserve  us  from  an  affected 
 or  theatrical  manner,  which  is  a  fault  much  more  to  be  depre- 
 cated. Still,  I  conceive  that  when  we  feel  as  we  ought,  we 
 shall  find  no  difficulty  or  danger  in  this  respect.  Our  hearts 
 will  then,  without  any  effort  on  our  part,  insensibly  teach  us  to 
 express  its  emotions  in  a  corresponding  tone,  and  in  the  manner 
 
 VOL.  I.  29 
 
226 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 best  adapted  to  excite  similar  feelings  in  the  breasts  of  our  hear- 
 ers. But,  if  our  devotional  feelings  are  habitually  languid,  if 
 our  hearts  do  not  teach  our  lips,  it  is,  perhaps,  advisable  to  aim 
 at  nothing  beyond  a  monotonous  solemnity,  rather  than,  by 
 atfecting  what  we  do  not  feel,  to  incur  the  certain  displeasure 
 of  our  Master,  and  the  probable  contempt  of  our  most  judicious 
 hearers.  If  we  have  no  thoughts  or  feelings  that  glow,  it  is 
 worse  than  useless  to  affect  '  words  that  burn.' 
 
 "Another  fault,  which  is  not  unfrequently  found  in  our  devo- 
 tional performances,  I  know  not  how  to  describe  better  than  by 
 saying  that  it  consists  in  praying  more  like  an  awakened,  but 
 still  impenitent,  sinner,  or  more  as  such  a  character  might  be 
 supposed  to  pray,  than  like  a  real  Christian.  Different  causes, 
 probably,  tend  to  the  adoption  of  this  method.  Some  are  ap- 
 parently led  to  it  by  doubts  respecting  their  own  character. 
 Tiiey  often  suspect  that  they  are  not  truly  pious,  and  therefore 
 fear  to  utter  the  language  of  a  pious  heart.  Others  seem  to 
 adopt  it  in  consequence  of  false  humility.  They  fear  it  would 
 be  thought  indicative  of  pride,  should  they  use  expressions 
 which  intimate  that  they  think  themselves  to  be  the  real  disci- 
 ples of  Christ.  A  third  class  probably  adopt  this  method  with 
 a  view  to  offer  prayers  in  which  awakened,  but  still  impenitent, 
 sinners  may  join.  But,  whatever  may  be  the  motives  which 
 lead  to  the  adoption  of  such  a  method,  it  is,  I  conceive,  a  fault 
 which  ought  to  be  avoided.  It  is,  indeed,  a  common,  and,  with 
 some  limitation,  a  just  remark,  that  a  minister  is  the  mouth  of 
 his  people  to  God.  It  is,  however,  of  the  pious  part  of  his  con- 
 gregation, only,  that  he  is  the  mouth.  His  prayer,  then,  should 
 be  the  echo,  not  of  an  impenitent,  but  of  a  pious  heart,  to  the 
 voice  of  God.  He  should  pray  with  those  who  are  pious,  and 
 for  those  who  are  not  so.  Instead  of  praying  that  himself,  and 
 those  who  unite  with  him,  may  exercise  the  feelings  of  a  Chris- 
 tian, he  should  explicitly  express  those  feelings.  This  is  neces- 
 sary for  his  own  sake,  if  he  be  truly  pious;  for,  if  he  be  so,  he 
 cannot  sincerely  utter  the  language  of  an  impenitent  heart.  It 
 is  necessary  for  the  sake  of  his  pious  hearers;  for,  while  he  is 
 attempting  to  form  a  prayer  in  which  all  may  join,  he  will  utter 
 many  expressions  in  which  they  cannot  unite.  It  is  also  neces- 
 sary even  for  the  sake  of  his  impenitent  hearers;  for  it  is  highly 
 imoortaut  for  them  to  be  convinced  that  they  do  not,  and,  with 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 227 
 
 their  present  feelings,  cannot  pray ;  and  nothing  will  tend  more 
 effectually  to  convince  them  of  this  important  truth,  than  listen- 
 ing to  prayers  in  which  truly  pious  feelings  and  holy  exercises 
 are  distinctly  expressed.  For  similar  reasons,  it  is  desirable 
 that  we  should  not  always  pray  in  a  manner  suited  only  to  in- 
 experienced, weak,  or  declining  Christians.  Instead  of  descend- 
 ing to  their  standard,  we  must  endeavor  to  raise  them  to  ours. 
 If  we  wish  our  people  to  feel  dissatisfied  with  their  present  at- 
 tainments, and  to  become  eminent  Christians,  we  must  accus- 
 tom them  to  hear  the  devotional  language  of  eminent  Chris- 
 tians, by  uttering  such  language  in  our  prayers,  if,  indeed,  we 
 can  do  it  without  uttering  what  we  do  not  feel.  As  an  eagle 
 tempts  her  young  to  soar  higher  than  they  would  dare  to  do 
 were  they  not  encouraged  by  her  example,  so  the  minister  of 
 Christ  should,  occasionally  at  least,  allure  his  people  to  the 
 higher  region  of  devotion,  by  taking  a  bolder  flight  than  usual, 
 and  uttering  the  language  of  strong  faith,  ardent  love,  unshaken 
 confidence,  assured  hope,  and  rapturous  gratitude,  admiration, 
 and  joy.  Some  of  his  hearers  can,  probably,  at  all  times,  fol- 
 low him,  and  many  others  who  at  first  tremble  and  hesitate ; 
 many,  who  would  scarcely  dare  adopt  the  same  language  in 
 their  closets,  will  gradually  catch  the  sacred  flame;  their  hearts 
 will  burn  within  them.  While  their  pastor  leads  the  way, 
 they  will  mount  up,  as  on  eagles'  wings,  toward  heaven,  and 
 return  from  the  house  of  prayer,  not  cold  and  languid,  as  they 
 enteredj'but  glowing  with  the  fires  of  devotion.  In  this,  as 
 well  as  in  other  respects,  it  will,  in  some  measure,  be,  'like 
 people,  hke  priest.'  If  we  thus  strike  the  golden  harp  of  devo- 
 tion, we  shall  soon  find  our  pious  hearers  able  to  accompany  us 
 through  its  whole  compass  of  sound,  from  the  low  notes  of 
 humble,  penitential  sorrow,  up  to  the  high,  heart-thrilling  tones 
 of  rapturous  joy,  admiration,  love,  and  praise,  which  are  in 
 union  with  the  harps  of  the  redeemed  before  the  throne. 
 
 "  Another  fault,  sometimes  found  in  devotional  performances 
 which  are  otherwise  unexceptionable,  is  the  want  of  sutficient 
 particularity.  Indeed,  most  of  our  public  prayers,  are  too  gen- 
 eral. They  bring  so  much  into  view,  that  nothing  is  seen  dis- 
 tinctly. It  is  well  known,  that,  if  we  except  sublime  and  ter- 
 rible objects,  nothing  affects  the  mind,  unless  it  be  clearly  and 
 distinctly  perceived.    If  the  hiost  admired  descriptive  poems, 
 
228 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 and  those  which  produce  the  greatest  effect  upon  our  feeUngs, 
 be  carefully  examined,  it  will  be  found  that  they  derive  their 
 power  to  affect  us  almost  entirely  from  a  mirmte  and  striking 
 description  of  a  few  judiciously-selected  particulars.  It  is  the 
 same  with  our  devotional  performances.  We  may  praise  God, 
 or  confess  sin,  or  pray  for  mercy,  or  return  thanks  for  divine 
 favor,  in  a  general  way,  without  being  ourselves  affected,  and 
 without  exciting  the  affections  of  our  hearers. .  But  when  wo 
 descend  to  particulars,  the  effect  is  different.  The  mind  re- 
 ceives, drop  after  drop,  till  it  is  full.  We  should,  therefore,  aim 
 at  as  great  a  degree  of  particularity,  as  the  time  allotted  us,  and 
 the  variety  of  topics  on  which  we  must  touch,  will  allow.  Es- 
 pecially is  it  important,  that  we  enter  deeply  and  particularly 
 into  every  part  of  Christian  experience,  and  lay  open  all  the 
 minute  ramifications,  and  almost  imperceptible  workings  of  the 
 pious  heart,  in  its  various  situations,  and  thus  show  our  hearers 
 to  themselves  in  every  point  of  view.  In  a  word,  our  public 
 prayers  should  resemble,  as  nearly  as  propriety  will  allow,  the 
 breathings  of  an  humble,  judicious,  and  fervently-pious  Chris- 
 tian, in  his  private  devotions.  The  prayer  of  the  pulpit  differs 
 too  much — it  should  differ  as  little  as  possible — from  the  prayer 
 of  the  closet.  A  neglect,  in  this  particular,  often  renders  our 
 performances  uninteresting  and  unacceptable  to  those  whom  wc 
 should  most  desire  to  gratify. 
 
 "Such,  I  conceive,  are  the  principal  defects,  which  are  most 
 frequently  found  in  our  devotional  performances.  It  is  obvious, 
 that  they  are  all  occasioned,  either  wholly  or  in  part,  by  a  lan- 
 guid state  of  devotional  feeling;  and  that  the  only  effectual, 
 remedy  is  to  be  sought  in  the  diligent  cultivation  of  a  frame  of 
 temper  habitually  devout.  That  a  minister  may  lead  the  devo- 
 tions of  his  people  in  the  most  suitable  and  edifying  manner,  it 
 seems  indispensable  that  he  should  possess  a  mind  deeply  im- 
 bued with  divine  truth;  a  mind,  into  the  very  frame  and  tex- 
 ture of  which  the  doctrines  of  revelation  are  wrought ;  and  a 
 heart  thoroughly  broken  and  humbled  for  sin,  and  tremblingly 
 alive  to  the  voice  of  God,  and  ever  glowing  with  celestial  fire. 
 He,  who,  with  such  a  mind  and  such  a  heart,  lives  much  in 
 his  closet,  praying,  as  the  apostle  expresses  it,  in  the  Holy 
 Ghost,  and  habitually  imploring  his  assistance  to  help  his  in- 
 firmities, will  always  lead  the  devotions  of  his  people  in  a  judi- 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 229 
 
 cious,  edifying,  and  acceptable  manner ;  nor  will  he  need  the 
 aid  of  a  precomposed  form.  In  his  prayers,  as  well  as  in  his 
 sermons,  he  will  constantly  bring  out  of  his  treasury  things 
 new  and  old.  But  if  our  hearts  will  not  pray,  or  teach  us  in 
 what  manner  to  cry  to  our  heavenly  Father  and  Redeemer,  our 
 understandings  must ;  and  we  must  either  compose  or  borrow 
 forms  for  that  purpose.  How  far,  in  this  case,  we  can  be  con- 
 sidered as  called  to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  or  fitted  for  it,  is 
 not  for  me  to  say;  but,  surely,  he  who  can  contemplate  the 
 wonders  of  creation,  and  yet  find  nothing  to  say  to  his  Maker; 
 still  more,  he  who  can  meditate  on  the  mysteries  of  redeeming 
 love,  and  behold  the  glory  of  God  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ, 
 without  feeling  praises  ready  to  burst  spontaneously  from  his 
 lips,  has  some  reason  to  fear  that  he  possesses  little  of  the  spirit 
 of  heaven,  and  that  he  has  never  learned  that  new  song,  which 
 none  can  learn  but  those  who  are  redeemed  from  the  earth ;  for, 
 v/ith  reference  to  this  subject,  it  may  be  emphatically  said,  in 
 the  words  of  inspiration,  '  the  heart  of  the  wise  teacheth  his 
 mouth,  and  addeth  learning  to  his  lips.'  " 
 
 Such  public  prayers  as  he  off'ered  were  singularly  adapted  to 
 atfect  the  minds  of  an  assembly,  and  prepare  them  for  the  re- 
 ception of  religious  truths,  besides  being  the  appointed  means 
 of  obtaining  the  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  "to  render  the 
 word  effectual  to  salvation."  To  his  ardent  and  persevering 
 prayers  must,  no  doubt,  be  ascribed,  in  a  great  measure,  his 
 distinguished  and  almost  uninterrupted  success;  and,  next  to 
 these,  the  undoubted  sincerity  of  his  belief  in  the  truths  which 
 he  inculcated.  His  language,  his  conversation,  and  whole 
 deportment,  were  such  as  brought  home  and  fastened  on  the 
 minds  of  his  hearers  the  conviction  that  he  "believed,  and  there- 
 fore spoke."  So  important  did  he  regard  such  a  conviction  in 
 the  attendants  on  the  ministry,  that  he  made  it  the  topic  of  one 
 of  his  addresses  to  his  clerical  brethren ;  and  most  of  his  remarks 
 on  this  subject  will  here  be  introduced,  as  disclosing  one  of  those 
 great  principles  which  formed  the  basis  of  his  ministerial  char- 
 acter. 
 
230 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "  The  importance  of  convincing  our  hearers  that  we  beUeve  what  we  preach, 
 and  the  means  necessary  to  produce  such  a  conviction  in  their  minds. 
 
 "The  importance  of  convincing  our  hearers  that  we  firmiy 
 beheve  the  truths  which  we  inculcate,  and  that  by  this  behef 
 we  are  habitually  actuated  in  our  conduct,  as  men  and  as  min- 
 isters, will  appear  sufficiently  evident  from  the  fact,  that,  on 
 their  feeling  such  a  conviction,  the  success  of  our  labors  among 
 them  very  much  depends.  That  this  is  a  fact,  will  not,  it  is 
 presumed,  be  denied.  When  expressing  a  belief  that  it  is  so, 
 however,  I  am  far  from  intending  to  assert,  that  a  conviction  of 
 a  minister's  sincerity  in  the  minds  of  his  hearers  is  inseparably 
 connected  with  ministerial  success.  I  woidd  not,  even  for  a 
 moment,  forget  that,  after  every  human  exertion  possible  has 
 been  made,  the  smallest  success  is  owing  entirely  to  the  blessing 
 of  God;  nor  that  he  bestows  this  blessing  as  he  pleases,  in  a 
 sovereign  way.  I  am  also  fidly  aware  of  the  fact,  that  many 
 faithful  ministers  of  Christ,  who  have  exhibited  the  strongest 
 evidence,  and  produced  in  the  minds  of  their  hearers  the  fullest 
 conviction  of  their  sincerity,  have  been  favored  with  this  blessing 
 but  in  a  very  small  degree;  while  not  a  few  of  questionable 
 sincerity,  to  say  the  least,  have  apparently  been  made  instru- 
 mental of  extensive  good. 
 
 "  Still,  though  I  would  by  no  means  estimate  a  minister's 
 fidelity  by  his  apparent  success,  I  must  consider  it  as  a  truth, 
 to  which  all  will  i-eadily  assent,  that,  generally  speaking,  no 
 minister  can  reasonably  expect  his  labors  to  be  successful,  whose 
 life  does  not  exhibit  evidence  of  his  sincerity;  whose  hearers 
 are  not  convinced  that  he  believes  the  message  which  he  delivers. 
 It  is  too  evident  to  require  proof,  that,  without  such  a  conviction, 
 our  hearers  will  not  even  respect  us  as  men.  Insincerity  is  a 
 vice,  Avhich,  however  men  may  tolerate  it  in  themselves,  they 
 universally  agree  to  despise  and  condemn  in  others;  and  never 
 do  they  reprobate  it  more  severely,  or  more  justly,  than  when  it 
 is  found  in  those  who  minister  at  the  altar  of  God.  If,  then, 
 our  hearers  suspect  that  we  are  guilty  of  it;  if  they  suppose 
 that  we  attend  to  our  profession  merely  as  a  profession,  and 
 inculcate  doctrines  on  them  which  we  do  not  ourselves  believe, 
 they  will  assuredly  consider  us  as  mercenary  hypocrites,  who 
 sacrilegiously  profane  things  most  sacred,  sacrifice  to  vanity,  or 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 231 
 
 avarice,  on  the  altar  of  God,  employ  the  cross  of  Christ  as  a 
 ladder  for  ambition,  and  consequently  deserve  to  be  regarded 
 only  with  abhorrence  and  contempt.  That  the  existence  of  such 
 suspicions  in  their  minds  must  most  powerfully  tend  to  prevent 
 the  success  of  our  labors,  it  is  needless  to  remark. 
 
 "And  as,  while  our  hearers  entertain  such  suspicions,  ihcy 
 will  despise  us  as  men,  much  more  will  they  disregard  us  in 
 our  official  character,  as  the  ambassadors  of  Christ.  '  Physician, 
 heal  thyself, '  will  be  their  secret,  if  not  open  reply  to  all  our 
 admonitions,  instructions,  and  reproofs.  With  what  apparent 
 attention  soever  they  may  be  induced  by  worldly  motives  to  treat 
 our  ministrations,  many  of  them  will  be  gradually  led  to  consider 
 the  services  of  the  sanctuary  as  a  kind  of  solemn  farce,  designed 
 to  impose  on  the  weak  and  ignorant,  in  which  we  are  called  by 
 our  profession  to  act  the  principal  part;  a  part  Avhich  requires 
 us  to  utter  things  which,  as  we  appear  not  to  believe  them  our- 
 selves, they  will  feel  themselves  under  no  obligation  to  believe 
 or  obey. 
 
 "  The  well  known  and  often  quoted  maxim  of  the  poet, 
 
  Si  vis  me  flere,  dolendum  est 
 
 Primum  ipsi  tibi  
 
 is,  with  a  slight  variation,  peculiarly  applicable  to  the  ministers 
 of  Christ.  If  they  wish  their  hearers  to  believe  and  be  affected 
 by  the  truth  which  they  deliver,  they  must  first  appear,  at  least, 
 to  believe  and  be  affected  by  it  themselves.  In  vain  will  they 
 declare,  from  the  pulpit,  that  God  is  in  this  place,  and  inculcate 
 the  necessity  of  worshipping  him  with  reverence  and  godly  fear, 
 while  their  demeanor  affords  reason  to  suspect,  that  they  are 
 themselves  totally  unconscious  of  his  presence.  In  vain  will 
 they  teach  that  men  are  entirely  guilty  and  depraved,  while 
 they  appear  either  not  to  know,  or  to  habitually  forget,  that  they 
 are  by  nature  children  of  wrath,  even  as  others.  In  vain  will 
 they  preach  Christ  crucified,  while  their  hearers  cannot  take 
 knowledge  of  them  that  they  have  been  with  Jesus,  and  they 
 appear  to  know  him  only  by  name.  In  vain  will  they,  like 
 Noah,  that  preacher  of  righteousness,  warn  mankind  of  an 
 approaching  flood,  and  urge  them  to  fly  from  the  wrath  to  come, 
 while  their  people  imagine  that  they  are  not,  like  Noah,  prepar- 
 
232 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 ing  an  ark  for  their  own  salvation.  In  vain  will  they  forbid 
 their  hearers  to  lay  up  treasure  on  earth,  while  their  own  con- 
 duct excites  a  suspicion  that  they  mind  earthly  things;  and  in 
 vain  will  they  inculcate  heaven ly-mindedness,  or  expatiate  on  the 
 joys  above,  the  worth  of  the  soul,  and  the  solemn  realities  of 
 the  eternal  world,  while  their  lives  produce  no  conviction  in  the 
 minds  of  their  people,  that  they  are  actuated  by  that  faith  which 
 is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  and  the  evidence  of  things 
 not  seen.  'In  vain,'  says  a  celebrated  French  prelate,  'do  we 
 preach  to  our  hearers.  Our  lives,  of  Avhich  they  are  witnesses, 
 are,  with  the  generality  of  men,  the  gospel;  it  is  not  what  we 
 declare  in  the  house  of  God;  it  is  what  they  see  us  practise  in 
 our  general  demeanor.  They  look  upon  the  public  ministry  as 
 a  stage  designed  for  the  display  of  exalted  principles,  beyond 
 the  reach  of  human  weakness;  but  they  consider  our  life  as  the 
 reality  by  which  they  are  to  be  directed.' 
 
 "But  it  is  saying  too  little,  to  assert,  that  while  suspicions 
 are  generally  entertained  of  a  minister's  sincerity,  no  beneficial 
 effects  can  reasonably  be  expected  to  result  from  his  labors.  In 
 almost  every  instance,  they  will  probably  be  found  to  produce 
 effects  positively  mischievous.  His  unbelief,  whether  real  or 
 supposed,  will  ever  be  urged  by  his  hearers  in  vindication  of 
 their  own.  If  he,  they  will  say,  whose  profession  leads  him  to 
 study  the  Scriptures,  and  who  is,  consequently,  well  acquainted 
 Avith  all  the  evidence  in  their  favor,  does  not  sincerely  believe 
 their  contents,  why  should  we?  In  addition  to  this,  the  con- 
 tempt with  which  he  will  be  regarded,  as  a  man  and  as  a  min- 
 ister, will  insensibly  extend,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  to  the 
 truths  which  he  preaches,  and  to  the  religion  whose  minister  he 
 professedly  is.  Many  of  his  hearers  will  be  gradually  led  to  a 
 conclusion,  to  which  men  are  of  themselves  sufficiently  prone, 
 that  all  other  ministers,  in  past  and  present  ages,  resemble  their 
 own,  and  that  Christianity  is  a  system  of  priestcraft  and  delu- 
 sion, invented  by  designing  men  for  their  ov/n  benefit,  and 
 intended  to  keep  the  ignorant,  weak,  and  credulous  in  awe. 
 
 "Or,  should  they  not,  as  will  doubtless  in  many  instances  be 
 the  case,  think  thus  of  Christianity  itself,  they  will  at  least  form 
 such  an  opinion  of  the  order  and  denomination  to  which  Ave 
 belong,  and  be,  consequently,  led  to  seek  among  other  sects,  and 
 even  wild  enthusiasts,  for  that  religious  zeal  and  sincerity  which 
 
»EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 233 
 
 they  know  ought  to  be  found  in  all  the  ministers  of  Christ,  but 
 which  they  imagiiie  is  not  to  be  found  in  us.  And  while  many 
 of  our  hearers  will  thus  be  led  into  error  or  speculative  infidelity, 
 a  large  proportion  of  those  who  remain  will  infallibly  become 
 practical  infidels,  or  settle  down  contented  with  a  meager  form 
 of  godliness,  in  perfect  ignorance  of  its  transforming,  life-giving 
 power.  It  is  in  vain  to  evade  the  force  of  these  obvious  truths, 
 by  urging  the  acknowledged  maxim,  that  the  Bible  is  the  only 
 rule  of  faith  and  practice;  that  to  this  alone  men  ought  to  look, 
 and  that  they  are  entirely  inexcusable  in  thus  con  founding  religion 
 with  the  conduct  of  its  ministers,  and,  for  the  faults  of  one, 
 condemning  the  other.  We  readily  allow  that  they  are  so.  But 
 still,  as  has  been  often  remarked,  we  must  take  men  as  they  are, 
 not  as  they  ought  to  be;  and  to  the  plea  just  mentioned,  it  is  a 
 sufficient  reply,  that  the  principle  of  association  in  the  human 
 mind  powerfully  tends  to  produce  the  effects  here  alluded  to ;  and 
 that  such,  in  part,  ever  have  been  the  effects  of  apparent  insin- 
 cerity in  the  ministers  of  Christ.  We  are  far,  however,  from 
 asserting  or  supposing,  that  such  effects  may  not  arise  from 
 other  causes;  or  that  the  prevalence  of  vice  and  error  among  a 
 people  necessarily  proves  that  their  minister  is  unfaithful  or 
 insincere.  We  know  that  prejudice  often  renders  men  blind  to 
 the  plainest  and  most  unequivocal  proofs  of  sincerity. 
 
 We  know  that  men  are  naturally  opposed  to  divine  truth, 
 and  prone  to  hate  those  who  press  it  upon  them  with  plainness 
 and  fidelity.  We  are  also  aware,  that  many  of  our  hearers 
 scan  our  conduct  with  a  critical  and  malignant  eye,  and  are 
 eager  to  discover  something  in  us,  which  may  furnish  an  excuse 
 for  their  own  errors,  and  justify  them  in  asserting  that  we  do 
 not  believe  what  we  preach.  But  it  cannot  escape  your  notice, 
 my  fathers  and  brethren,  that  these  dispositions,  while  they  render 
 it  in  some  cases  exceedingly  difficult  to  convince  men  of  our 
 sincerity,  afford  also  most  powerful  reasons  why  we  should 
 make  the  attempt.  If  they  are  thus  prone  to  suspect  the  reality 
 of  our  belief,  we  must  be  careful  to  afford  them  no  real  or  appa- 
 rent cause  for  suspicion.  If  they  scan  our  conduct  with  a  criti- 
 cal and  malignant  eye,  we  must  give  double  diligence  to  render 
 it  irreproachable.  And  if  they  naturally  hate  those  truths  which 
 duty  requires  us  to  preach,  it  becomes  us  to  see  that  their  hatred 
 
 derives  no  excuse  or  palliation  from  onr  temper  or  practice. 
 
 VOL.  1.  30 
 
231 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 They  must,  if  possible,  be  constrained  to  feel  a  conviction,  that, 
 in  declaring  these  offensive  truths,  we  are  actuated,  not  by  mer- 
 cenary views,  nor  by  bigotry,  moroseiiess,  or  severity  of  temper, 
 but  by  an  imperious  sense  of  duty,  and  by  a  tender,  deep,  and 
 unfeigned  concern  for  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  salvation  of 
 their  souls  ;  that  we  are  not  marking  out  one  path  for  them,  and 
 another  for  ourselves,  but  that  we  watch  for  their  souls  as  those 
 who  know  that  they  must  give  an  account ;  and  tlmt  we  habit- 
 ually and  uniformly  seek,  not  their  wealth,  their  applause,  their 
 friendship,  but  their  salvation.  'J'hat  it  is  possible,  in  most 
 instances,  to  produce  and  maintain  this  conviction  in  the  minds 
 of  men,  is  evident  from  facts.  That  the  first  preachers  of  the 
 gospel  succeeded  in  doing  it,  cannot  l)e  denied.  While  they 
 were  accused  of  almost  every  other  crime,  they  seem  never  to 
 have  been  even  suspected  of  insincerity.  They  could  say  pub- 
 licly, without  fear  of  contradiction, — for  they  knew  that  their 
 whole  conduct,  and  even  the  consciences  of  their  enemies,  bore 
 testimony  to  the  truth  of  their  assertions, — '  We  believe,  and 
 therefore  speak.'  '  Knowing  the  terrors  of  the  Lord,  we  per- 
 suade men.'  '  If  we  be  beside  ourselves,  it  is  to  God ;  and  if 
 we  be  sober,  it  is  for  yoiu-  cause;  for  we  seek  not  yours,  but 
 you ;  and  we  will  gladly  spend  and  be  spent  for  you,  though, 
 the  more  abundantly  we  love  you,  the  less  we  be  loved.  As  of 
 sincerity,  as  of  God,  in  the  sight  of  God,  speak  we  in  Christ. 
 For  we  are  manifest  unto  God,  and  we  trust  also,  are  manifest 
 in  your  consciences.' 
 
 "  But  the  situation  of  things,  at  the  present  day,  is  somewhat 
 different.  While  we  are  seldom  charged  with  other  faults,  we 
 are  not  unfrequeiitly  suspected,  and  even  accused,  of  insincerity; 
 of  not  really  believing  what  we  preach.  It  is  a  melancholy 
 fact,  that  multitudes  among  us  appear  to  consider  the  ministry 
 merely  as  a  profession,  and  to  suppose  that  we  preach  the  gospel 
 only  because  it  is,  in  the  view  of  men,  a  professional  duty. 
 They  seem  not  to  imagine  that  we  expect,  or  even  wish,  that  they 
 should  believe  the  message  which  we  bring.  To  account  for 
 this  melancholy  fact,  is  no  part  of  my  present  design.  Whether 
 it  is  owing  to  the  bold  assertions  of  our  enemies,  to  the  preva- 
 lence of  sectarism  and  infidelity,  or  to  something  in  our  own 
 conduct,  is  not  for  me  to  determine ;  but  certain  it  is,  that  min- 
 isters of  our  denomination  are,  by  very  many,  regarded  as 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 235 
 
 mercenary  hirelings,  who  '  prophesy  for  reward,  and  divine  for 
 money.'  Surely,  then,  it  becomes  us.  iny  fathers  and  brethren, 
 to  do  every  thing  in  our  power  to  remove  these  injurious  impres- 
 sions, and  to  convince  both  our  hearers  and  others,  that,  like  the 
 apostles,  we  believe,  and  therefore  speak. 
 
 "  The  means  necessary  for  the  production  of  this  effect  will 
 next  demand  our  attention. 
 
 "  What  means  are  necessary  for  this  purpose  we  may  learn 
 in  two  different  ways. 
 
 "  We  may  learn  thesn  from  a  careful  attention  to  the  conduct 
 of  the  first  preachers  of  Christianity.  That  they  succeeded  in 
 convincing  men  of  their  siuceri y,  u  e  have  already  seen.  And 
 since,  in  similar  circumstances,  the  same  causes  ever  produce 
 similar  effects,  we  may  reasonably  hope,  by  imitating  their 
 example,  to  produce  a  similar  conviction  in  the  minds  of  our 
 hearers. 
 
 "The  means  necessary  for  this  purpose  may  be  inferred,  also, 
 from  a  consideration  of  the  nature  and  effects  of  faith,  as  describ- 
 ed by  the  inspired  writers.  They  inform  us,  that  it  is  '  the 
 substance  of  things  hoped  for,  and  the  evidence  of  things  not 
 seen.'  It  enables  those  who  possess  it  '  to  endure,  as  seeing  him 
 who  is  invisible.'  It  gives  unseen  tilings  a  .snl, stance,  a  reality, 
 an  existence  in  the  mind.  It  does,  as  it  were,  clothe  them.with 
 a  body,  and  thus  leads  those  who  possess  it  to  feel  and  act,  in 
 some  measure,  as  they  would  do,  were  the  objects  of  faith  made 
 visible;  were  God  and  Christ,  and  heaven  and  hell,  rendered 
 objects  of  sense.  If,  then,  we  would  convince  our  hearers  that 
 we  possess  this  faith,  we  must  conduct  in  a  similar  manner.  In 
 other  words,  we  must  imitate  the  temper  and  conduct  of  the 
 apostles;  for  it  will  appear,  on  a  moment's  reflection,  that  these 
 different  methods  of  ascertaining  the  means  necessary  to  convince 
 men  of  our  sincerity  lead  to  precisely  the  same  result. 
 
 "  A  general  idea  of  the  manner  in  which  a  minister  would 
 conduct,  to  whom  the  great  objects  of  faith  were  rendered  visi- 
 ble, may  easily  be  formed.  He  would  feel,  that  God  is  all  in 
 all,  that  his  favor  is  the  one  thing  needful,  that  his  displeasure 
 is  the  only  thing  dreadful,  and  that,  to  a  minister,  nothing, 
 comparatively  speaking,  is  worth  knowing  or  making  known, 
 but  Jesus  Christ  and  him  crucified.  He  would  feel,  that  the 
 temporal  happiness  of  kingdoms,  and  even  of  worlds,  is  noth- 
 
236 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 ing,  in  comparison  with  the  salvation  of  a  single  soul.  With 
 such  feelings  his  conduct  would  correspond.  While  he  contem- 
 plated the  broad  road,  with  the  multitudes  who  throng  it,  and 
 the  destruction  in  which  it  ends,  his  compassion,  grief,  and  zeal, 
 would  be  most  powerfully  excited,  and  lead  him  to  make  every 
 possible  exertion  to  snatch  his  hearers  as  brands  from  the 
 burning.  '  Knowitig  the  terrors  of  the  Lord,  he  would  persuade 
 men.'  In  the  performance  of  this  duty,  he  would  be  instant  in 
 season,  ^nd  out  of  season,  and  preach  the  word,  not  only  pub- 
 licly in  the  house  of  God,  but  privately  and  from  house  to  house. 
 In  a  word,  he  would  give  himself  wholly  to  his  work  ;  conse- 
 crate to  it  all  the  powers  of  his  body  and  mind,  and  pursue  the 
 ^rand  object  of  saving  himself,  and  them  that  heard  him,  with 
 unabated  ardor  and  activity,  to  the  close  of  life. 
 
 "  The  influence  of  the  great  objects  which  he  beholds,  would 
 appear  also  in  his  manner  of  performing  ministerial  duties.  In 
 his  public  approaches  to  the  throne  of  grace,  he  would  exhibit 
 a  personification  of  reverence  and  godly  fear,  and  evince  that 
 he  was  addressing  a  present  being;  that  he  felt  himself  immedi- 
 ately under  the  eye  of  a  holy,  heart-searching  God.  While  he 
 would  make  supplication  for  himself  and  his  people,  like  one 
 who  was  pleading  for  life,  at  the  bar  of  his  judge,  every  word 
 and  accent  would  show  that  he  was  deeply  convinced  of  his 
 guilt  and  sinfulness ;  that  he  felt  the  need  of  a  Mediator ;  that 
 he  felt,  also,  that  holy,  humble  confidence,  which  the  sight  of 
 such  a  Mediator  as  Christ  is  calculated  to  inspire. 
 
 "  In  delivering  his  message  as  an  ambassador  of  Christ,  he 
 would  show  that  he  felt  deeply  penetrated  with  a  conviction  of 
 its  truth  and  infinite  importance.  He  Avould  speak  like  one 
 whose  whole  soul  was  filled  with  his  subject.  He  would  speak 
 of  Christ  and  his  salvation  as  a  grateful,  admiring  people  would 
 speak  of  a  great  and  generous  deliverer,  who  had  devoted  his 
 life  for  the  welfare  of  his  country.  He  would  describe  religion 
 as  a  traveller  describes  a  country  through  which  he  has  leisurely 
 passed,  or  as  an  aged  man  describes  the  scenes  of  his  former 
 life.  He  would  portray  the  Christian  warfare  as  a  veteran 
 portrays  a  battle,  in  which  he  has  just  been  contending  for 
 liberty  and  life.  He  would  speak  of  eternity  as  one  whose  eye 
 had  been  wearied  in  attempting  to  penetrate  its  unfathomable 
 recesses,  and  describe  its  awful  realities  like  a  man  who  stood 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 237 
 
 on  the  verge  of  time,  and  had  lifted  the  veil  which  conceals 
 them  from  the  view  of  mortals.  '  Thoughts  that  glow  and 
 words  that  burn,'  would  compose  his  public  addresses ;  and 
 while  a  sense  of  the  dignity  of  his  official  character,  and  the 
 infinite  importance  of  his  subject,  would  lead  him  to  speak,  as 
 one  having  authority,  with  indescribable  solemnity,  weight,  and 
 energy ;  a  full  recollection,  that  he  was  by  nature  a  child  of 
 wrath,  and  that  he  was  addressing  fellow  men,  fellow  sinners, 
 mingled  with  compassion  for  their  wretched  state,  and  au 
 ardent  desire  for  their  salvation,  would  spread  an  air  of  tender- 
 ness over  his  discourses,  and  invest  him  with  that  affectionate, 
 melting,  persuasive  correctness  of  manner,  which  is  best  calcu- 
 lated to  affect  and  penetrate  the  heart.  To  say  all  in  a  word, 
 he  would  speak  like  an  ambassador  of  him  who  spake  as  never 
 man  spake,  and  who  could  say,  We  speak  what  we  do  know, 
 and  testify  what  we  have  seen. 
 
 "  Nor  would  the  great  objects  which  he  beheld  lose  their  in- 
 fluence when  he  descended  from  the  sacred  desk.  Wherever 
 he  went,  they  would  still  surround  him,  and  their  overwhelm- 
 ing importance  would  annihilate  in  his  mind  the  importance  of 
 all  other  objects.  Wherever  he  went,  he  would  see  before  him 
 immortal  beings,  who  were  either  heirs  of  glory  or  children  of 
 perdition  ;  pilgrims  on  their  way  to  heaven,  or  travellers  to  hell. 
 To  awaken,  convince,  and  convert  the  one,  and  to  animate,  in- 
 struct, and  comfort  the  other,  woidd  be  the  great  object  of  his 
 private  conversation,  as  well  as  of  his  public  addresses ;  and 
 the  prosecution  of  this  object  would  leave  him  neither  leisure 
 nor  inclination  to  attend  to  secular  concerns,  any  further  than 
 absolute  necessity  required.  Feeling  that  he  watched  for  souls 
 as  one  who  must  give  an  account,  and  knowing  the  secret  errors, 
 mistakes,  and  delusions,  into  which  men  are  prone  to  fall,  he 
 would  be  anxious  to  acquire  as  perfect  a  knowledge  as  possible 
 of  the  religious  character,  views,  and  feelings,  of  every  individual 
 in  his  flock,  and  would  improve  every  favorable  opportunity  for 
 this  purpose.  Nor,  while  employed  in  cultivating  the  vineyard 
 of  others,  would  he  forget  or  neglect  his  own ;  but  would  labor 
 to  save  himself,  as  well  as  to  secure  the  salvation  of  them  that 
 heard  him.  He  would  be  emphatically  a  man  of  prayer,  and, 
 like  his  divine  Master,  would  often  retire  and  ascend  the  mount 
 to  converse  with  God,  and  draw  from  the  Fountain  of  life  fresh 
 supplies. 
 
238 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 ''It  is  needless  to  add,  that  he  would  not  be  conformed  to  the 
 world,  nor  seek  its  honors,  wealth,  or  applause.  With  a  fixed 
 and  steadlast  eye,  he  would  contemplate  things  unseen  and  eter- 
 nal, and  count  neither  the  joys  nor  the  sufferings  of  the  present 
 life  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  that  shall  be 
 revealed.  Thus  his  life,  as  well  as  his  sermons,  would  preach ; 
 his  official  character  would  never  be  laid  aside  or  forgotten ;  his 
 sincerity  would  be  manifest  to  the  consciences  of  his  hearers, 
 and  all  would  exclaim,  with  one  voice,  '  This  man  believes, 
 and  therefore  speaks.' 
 
 "Such,  my  fathers  and  brethren,  would  probably  be  a  minis- 
 ter who  saw  what  we  all  profess  to  believe.  Such  were  the 
 first  preachers  of  the  gospel ;  and  such,  in  some  degree  at  least, 
 must  we  be,  if  we  would  convince  men  of  our  sincerity.  We 
 must  imitate  the  example  of  the  apostles,  and  exhibit  the  influ- 
 ence of  that  faith,  which  the  Scriptures  describe,  in  the 
 discharge  of  our  public  official  duties.  In  the  performance  of 
 these  duties,  we  must  not  confine  ourselves  within  those  limits 
 which  sloth  or  negligence  first  introduced,  and  which  custom 
 has  sanctioned.  We  must  not  restrict  our  labors  to  the  stated 
 and  ordinary  services  of  the  sanctuary.  These  our  hearers 
 expect.  For  these  they  imagine  that  we  are  paid.  Their  regu- 
 lar performance  is  therefore  considered,  and  juttly  so,  as  afford- 
 ing no  proof  of  our  sincerity.  To  evince  the  reality  of  our 
 belief,  something  more  is  necessary.  We  cannot  reasonably 
 expect  our  hearers  to  believe  that  we  sincerely  and  earnestly 
 desire  their  salvation,  while  we  do  nothing  more  to  promote  it 
 than  custom  or  a  regard  to  our  reputation  requires ;  nor  is  it 
 easy  to  conceive  how  they  can  suppose,  that  we  really  believe 
 them  to  be  constantly  exposed  to  endless,  remediless  ruin,  while 
 Ave  warn  them  of  their  danger  on  the  Sabbath  only,  and  appear 
 to  forget  their  perilous  situation  during  the  remainder  of  the 
 week.  If  we  wish  them  to  feel  convinced  that  such  is  their 
 situation,  and  that  we  really  believe  it  to  be  so,  we  must  show 
 them  that  we  fix  no  limits  to  our  labors,  but  those  which  neces- 
 sity prescribes. 
 
 "Of  little,  if  any,  less  importance  is  it,  that  we  exhibit  the 
 influence  and  effects  of  faith  in  our  manner  of  performing  min- 
 isterial duties.  However  frequently  or  plainly  we  may  Avani 
 our  hearers,  if  we  address  them  only  in  a  cold,  unfeeling  man- 
 
EDWARD    PAY  SON. 
 
 230 
 
 ner,  we  can  scarcely  expect  them  to  feel  convinced  of  our 
 sincerity.  Such,  evidently,  was  not  the  manner  in  which  the 
 first  preachers  of  Christianity  inculcated  its  doctrines.  St.  Paul 
 could  say,  when  bidding  farewell  to  his  Ephesian  hearers,  '  I 
 ceased  not  to  warn  every  one  of  you,  night  and  day  with  tears.' 
 Considering  the  sanguine  temperament  of  the  apostle,  and  the 
 different  constitutions  and  dispositions  of  men,  it  cannot,  per- 
 haps, be  reasonably  demanded  or  expected,  that  every  minister 
 should  be  able  to  say  this  ;  though,  if  any  thing  can  justly  call 
 for  tears,  it  must  be  the  situation  of  our  impenitent  hearers ; 
 and  to  weep  in  contemplation  of  the  miseries  which  they  are 
 bringing  upon  themselves,  is  highly  becoming  in  the  ministers 
 of  him  who  wept  over  rebellious  Jerusalem.  To  say  the  least, 
 some  degree  of  apparent  earnestness,  zeal,  and  fervor,  seems 
 requisite  to  stamp  our  public  discourses  with  an  air  of  sincerity  ; 
 and  when  the  natural  disposition  renders  it  impossible  to  mani- 
 fest much  warmth  of  feeling,  as  in  many  cases  it  undoubtedly 
 does,  it  is  peculiarly  necessary  that  its  absence  should  be  sup- 
 plied by  increased  solemnity  and  energy  in  the  dispensation  of 
 tiuth.  Mankind  are  so  constituted,  that  it  is  exceedingly 
 difficult,  not  to  say  impossible,  for  them  to  believe  that  a  speak- 
 er is  in  earnest,  who  docs  not  appear  to  be  interested  in  his 
 subject,  or  who  delivers  interesting  and  important  truths  in  a 
 manner  which  betrays  a  total  want  of  feeling;  and  never  are 
 they  less  ready  to  excuse  such  a  manner — never,  indeed,  is 
 it  hjs  excusable — than  when  found  in  those  who  preach  the 
 glorious  gospel  of  the  blessed  God,  and,  in  his  name,  warn  sin- 
 ners to  fly  from  the  Wrath  to  come.  It  is,  doubtless,  to  their 
 adoption  of  a  more  warm  and  impassioned  mode  of  address, 
 that  the  influence  of  sectarian  preachers  over  the  minds  of  com- 
 mon hearers  is  to  be  principally  ascribed.  It  is  this,  which 
 gives  their  loose  and  desultory,  but  vehement  harangues,  an  air 
 of  sincerity,  an  appearance  of  flowing  warm  from  the  heart, 
 which  cur  more  correct  and  methodical  discourses  do  not  always 
 possetis,  but  which  is  almost  indispensably  necessary  to  the  pro- 
 duction of  a  general  belief  that  we  are  sincere.  In  making 
 these  observations,  I  would  not,  however,  be  understood  to 
 intimate,  that  an  apparent  want  of  fervency,  zeal,  and  anima- 
 tion, affords,  in  all  cases,  just  cause  for  questioning  a  minister's 
 sincerity;  or  that  the  degree  of  real  feeling  is  always  in  propo:- 
 
240 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 tion  to  the  outward  expressions  of  it.  We  readih^  allow,  that 
 many  may  firmly  believe  the  truths  they  deliver,  and  feel  deep- 
 ly interested  in  their  success,  and  yet,  in  consequence  of  a  con- 
 stitutional coolness  and  evenness  of  temper,  display  less  wannth 
 and  animation  than  others  who  are  far  below  them  in  real  faith 
 and  religious  sensibility.  Still,  we  cannot  believe  that  it  is  im- 
 possible for  any  one,  whose  heart  glows  with  the  sacred  fire  ol" 
 love  and  zeal,  to  preach  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  leave  in  the 
 minds  of  his  hearers  no  doubt  of  his  sincerity,  or  of  his  earnest 
 desire  to  efl^ect  their  salvation. 
 
 "  If  this  be  important,  it  is,  if  possible,  still  more  so.  tliat  wc 
 exhibit  the  influence  and  effects  of  faith  in  our  more  private 
 intercourse  with  society.  '  It  is  here,'  says  a  celebrated  Eng- 
 lish prelate,  '  that,  I  conceive,  we  of  the  clergy  are  apt  to  fail. 
 We  do  not  always,  in  the  common  intercourse  of  life,  appear 
 sufficiently  penetrated  with  the  importance  of  our  function,  or 
 sufficiently  assiduous  in  promoting  the  ends  of  our  misson.' 
 'I  could  name  instances,'  says  another  divine,  'where  it  has 
 appeared  to  me,  that  the  probable  good  effects  of  a  very  faitli- 
 ful  testimony  in  the  pulpit,  have,  humanly  speaking,  been 
 wholly  defeated  by  too  successful  endeavors  to  be  agreeable  out 
 of  it.'  These  remarks,  though  made  with  reference  to  the 
 English  clergy,  are  but  in  too  many  instances  applicable  to  the 
 divines  of  our  own  country ;  and  they  suggest,  at  once,  much 
 important  instruction  and  reproof.  It  is  doubtless  right  to 
 associate  with  all  classes  among  our  hearers,  and  even  witli 
 publicans  and  sinners ;  but  it  must  be  only,  or  principally,  with 
 a  design  to  instruct  and  reform  them.  It  is  also  not  only  right, 
 but  a  duty,  to  become  all  things  to  all  men,  so  far  as  Ave  law- 
 fully can  ;  but  our  only  object  in  doing  it  must  be  by  all  means 
 to  save  some ;  and  if  the  object  be  not  kept  steadily  in  vicAv, 
 if  religious  conversation  be  not  introduced  on  all  proper  occa- 
 sions, on  all  occasions  Avhich  Christ  and  his  apostles  would  have 
 thought  proper  for  this  purpose,  our  social  intercourse  with  our 
 hearers  will  certainly  become  a  snare  to  us,  and  a  stumbling 
 block  to  them  ;  and,  perhaps,  more  than  cou;iteract  the  good 
 effects  of  all  our  public  addresses.  If  we  lay  aside  our  official 
 character,  and  feel  as  if  we  had  discharged  all  our  official  du- 
 nes, when  we  descend  from  the  sacred  desk  ;  if,  while  associat- 
 ing X'/'ith  our  impenitent  hearers,  Ave- appear  to  forget  their 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 241 
 
 character,  and  the  awfully  dangerous  situation  in  which  they 
 stand,  they  will  certainly  forget  it  too,  and  probahly  doubt 
 whether  we  really  believe  it  ourselves.  Should  a  physician  as- 
 sure a  number  of  his  patients,  that  their  symptoms  were  highly 
 alarming,  and  their  diseases  probably  mortal,  and  then  sit  down 
 and  converse  on  trifling  subjects,  with  an  air  of  quiet  indiffer- 
 ence or  levity,  what  would  be  their  inference  from  his  conduct? 
 Would  they  not  unavoidably  conclude,  either  that  he  did  not 
 really  consider  their  situation  as  dangerous,  or  that  he  was 
 grossly  deficient  in  sensibility,  and  in  a  proper  regard  to  their 
 feelings?  So  if  our  impenitent  hearers  see  us,  after  solemnly 
 assuring  them  from  the  pulpit,  that  they  are  children  of  disobe- 
 dience, children  of  wrath,  and  momentarily  exposed  to  the  most 
 awful  punishment,  mingling  in  their  society  with  an  apparent 
 unconsciousness  of  their  perilous  situation ;  conversing  with 
 earnestness  on  secular  affairs  ;  and  seldom  or  never  introducing 
 topics  strictly  religious,  or  embracing  private  opportunities  to 
 warn  them  of  their  danger,  — what  must  they  suppose  7  If  they 
 reflect  at  all,  must  they  not  unavoidably  conclude,  either  that 
 we  do  not  believe  their  situation  to  be  such  as  we  have  repre- 
 sented it,  or  that  we  are  totally  devoid,  not  only  of  benevolence, 
 compassion,  and  religious  sensibility,  but  even  of  the  common 
 feelings  of  humanity  'I  It  is  needless  to  remark,  that  either  con- 
 clusion would  be  far  from  producing  favorable  ideas  of  our  sin- 
 cerity, or  ministerial  faithfulness.  If,  then,  we  wish  that  such 
 ideas  should  be  entertained  by  our  people,  we  must  convince 
 them  by  our  conduct,  that  we  never  forget  our  character,  our 
 duty,  or  their  situation. 
 
 "  The  conviction  of  our  cordial  belief  of  the  truths  we  deliv- 
 er, which  such  a  discharge  of  the  ministerial  duty  will  produce 
 in  the  minds  of  our  hearers,  must  be  seated  and  maintained  by 
 a  corresponding  life.  Unaccompanied  with  this,  all  other 
 means  will  be  in  vain.  '  Example,'  says  a  French  prelate,  '  is 
 the  groundwork  of  a  minister's  character.'  '  In  vain,'  he  adds, 
 '  do  we  preach  to  our  hearers.  Our  life,  of  which  they  are 
 witnesses,  is,  with  the  generality  of  men,  the  gospel.  It  is 
 not  what  we  declare  in  the  house  of  God,  it  is  what  they  see  us 
 practise  in  our  general  demeanor.'  If,  then,  we  would  maintain 
 a  conviction  among  our  hearers,  that  we  are  sincere,  our  con- 
 duct, as  well  as  our  sermons,  must  preach :  and  if  the  former 
 
 VOL.  I.  31 
 
242 
 
 MEMOIR    OF  EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 contradicts,  or  does  not  coincide  with  the  latter,  no  good  effects 
 can  be  reasonably  expected  to  follow.  We  must,  therefore,  be 
 able,  though  we  may  not  think  proper,  to  say,  with  the  apostle, 
 '  Be  ye  followers  of  me,  even  as  I  am  of  Christ.  The  things 
 which  ye  have  received,  and  learned,  and  heard,  and  seen  in 
 me,  do,  and  the  God  of  peace  shall  be  with  you.'  If,  says 
 archbishop  Usher  to  his  clergy,  '  if  practical  Christian  piety,  be- 
 nevolence, and  self  government,  with  constant  zeal  to  promote 
 them  all  upon  earth,  are  not  the  first  and  chief  qualities,  which 
 your  parishioners  and  acquaintances  will  ascribe  to  you ;  if 
 they  will  speak  of  you  as  noted  on  other  accounts,  but  pass 
 over  these  articles  in  silence,  and,  when  asked  about  them,  be 
 at  a  loss  what  to  say,  excepting,  possibly,  that  they  know  no 
 harm  of  you,  all  is  not  right ;  nor  can  such  a  clergy  answer  the 
 design  of  its  institution  any  where,  nor  even  maintain  its 
 ground  in  a  country  of  freedom  and  learning.'  God  grant  that 
 the  clergy  of  this  country  may  never,  by  evincing  the  want  of 
 these  quahties,  frustrate  the  all-important  end  of  their  ministry, 
 nor  render  it  impossible  for  them  to  maintain  their  ground 
 against  the  assaults  of  error,  vice,  and  infidehty." 
 
 Had  this  description  of  the  "  good  minister  of  Jesus  Christ " 
 been  drawn  by  another  hand,  the  familiar  acquaintances  of  Dr. 
 Payson  might  well  have  supposed  that  himself  sat  for  the  pic- 
 ture ;  so  accurately  did  the  grand  features  of  his  ministerial 
 character  correspond  with  this  delineation.  Here  is,  unques- 
 tionably, the  standard  of  excellence  which  he  had  prescribed  to 
 himself,  and  at  which  his  aims  were  continually  directed. 
 And,  whatever  might  have  been  the  degree  of  those  deficiencies, 
 which  he  so  frequently  and  so  pathetically  laments,  as  to  the 
 spirit  and  temper  with  which  he  discharged  his  official  duties, 
 it  is  doubted  whether  the  most  scrutinizing  observer  was  ever 
 able  to  detect  in  his  practice  any  material  variation  from  this 
 standard.  Often  did  his  clear  exhibitions  of  truth,  and  his  full 
 and  plain  exposures  of  the  obliquities  of  men,  prove  the  occa- 
 sion of  bitter  and  outrageous  feelings  in  the  bosoms  of  many; 
 but  rarely,  indeed,  could  the  individual  be  found,  who  ventur- 
 ed to  express  a  doubt  of  his  honesty  and  sincerity.  He  was 
 always  in  earnest,  and  "  commended  himself  to  every  man's 
 conscience  in  the  sight  of  God." 
 
CHAPTEE  XIV. 
 
 The  pastor  in  action— Methods  of  exciting,  sustaining  and  extending  a  due 
 interest  in  religious  concerns  —  Preaching,  administration  of  ordinances, 
 church  fast,  conference,  inquiry  meetings. 
 
 Although  most  of  the  preceding  chapter,  if  changed  from  the 
 didactic  form  to  that  of  narration,  would,  for  the  extent  to 
 which  it  reaches,  present  a  true  history  of  its  author,  yet  there 
 are  other  details  from  his  own  pen,  interspersed  throughout  his 
 familiar  correspondence,  which  will  be  found  scarcely  less  in- 
 structive, and,  at  the  same  time,  exhibit  a  fuller  development 
 of  the  nature,  extent,  and  variety  of  his  pastoral  labors.  We 
 shall  commence  our  extracts  with  a  letter  written  in  1812,  to  a 
 young  clergyman,  then  recently  settled  in  the  ministry,  who 
 had  sought  his  instruction  and  advice  on  the  subject  of  pastoral 
 duties.  It  has  already  been  stated,  that  Mr.  Payson  was  now 
 the  sole  pastor  of  the  church ;  and  it  was  in  this  year  that  thir- 
 ty-one of  its  members  were  separated  from  it,  and,  by  a  distinct 
 organization,  constituted  the  "  Chapel  Congregational  Church 
 in  Portland,"  over  which  Mr.  Kellogg  was  placed  as  pastor. 
 The  vacancy  hereby  created  was  more  than  filled — forty-eight 
 persons  being  added  to  the  church  within  the  same  year.  It 
 was  distinguished  beyond  former  years  for  "  the  fruits  of  the 
 Spirit." 
 
 "  Dear  brother  : — Your  letter  I'equesting  '  information  and 
 advice,'  has  just  reached  me.  I  rejoice  in  the  circumstances 
 that  led  to  such  a  request.  I  rejoice  still  more  that  you  feel 
 '  ignorant,  and  inexperienced,  and  inadequate  to  the  charge 
 
244 
 
 M  E  IM  O  1  R  OF 
 
 Avhich  has  devolved  upon  you.'  We  must  feel  so,  or  Ave  shall 
 meet  with  little  success. 
 
 "1  can,  however,  assure  you,  for  your  encouragement,  that 
 you  cannot  possibly  be  more  ignorant  and  inexperienced  than  I 
 was  at  the  time  of  my  settlement.  I  knew  just  nothing  at  all 
 of  my  business  ;  but  I  knew  a  little,  O  how  little  !  of  my  own 
 ignorance.  This  led  me  to  pray  almost  incessantly  ;  and,  some- 
 how or  other,  I  have,  as  I  trust,  been  preserved  from  fatal  mis- 
 takes, and  not  suffered  to  ruin  either  myself  or  my  people,  as  I 
 sometimes  feared  that  I  should.  He  who  has  thus  guided  me, 
 and  tlioiisands  of  others  equally  foolish,  will,  I  trust,  guide  you. 
 The  best  advice  I  can  give  you,  is,  to  look  to  Him.  This  I 
 doubt  not  yon  do ;  but  you  cannot  do  it  too  much.  If  we 
 would  do  much  for  God,  we  must  ask  much  of  God;  we  must 
 be  men  of  prayer ;  we  must,  almost  literally,  pray  without 
 ceasing.  You  have  doubtless  met  with  Luther's  remark, 
 'Three  things  make  a  divine  —  prayer,  meditation,  and  tempta- 
 tion.' My  dear  brother,  I  cannot  insist  on  this  too  much. 
 Prayer  is  the  first  thing,  the  second  thing,  and  the  third  thing 
 necessary  for  a  minister,  especially  in  seasons  of  revival.  The 
 longer  you  live  in  the  ministry,  the  more  deeply,  I  am  persuaded, 
 you  will  be  convinced  of  this.  Pray  then,  my  dear  brother, 
 pray,  pray,  pray.  Read  the  account  of  Solomon's  choice,  1 
 Kings,  iii.  5 — 15.  If,  like  him,  you  choose  Avisdom,  and  pray 
 for  it,  it  Avill  be  yours. 
 
 "  The  next  thing  in  importance  is,  as  I  conceive,  that  your 
 church  should  be  excited  to  pray  for  the  influences  of  the  Di- 
 Adne  Spirit ;  and  that  they  should  frequently  meet  for  this  pur- 
 pose. For,  thongh  private  prayer  may  be  as  effectual,  it  does 
 not  so  directly  tend  to  honor  God,  as  that  which  is  more  public. 
 God  couA'crts  sinners  for  his  own  glory,  and  he  Avill  haA^e  all  the 
 glory  of  their  conversion.  Nothing  tends  more  directly  to  give 
 him  the  glory,  than  social  prayer.  In  that  dnty  Ave  explicitly 
 acknoAvledge,  not  only  to  him,  but  to  our  felloAv-creatures,  that 
 nothing  but  the  influences  of  his  Spirit  can  render  any  means 
 eflTectual,  and  that  Ave  are  entirely  dependent  for  those  influ- 
 ences on  his  sovereign  will.  In  a  Avord,  Ave  acknoAvledge  that, 
 in  the  conversion  of  sinners,  he  is  all,  and  Ave  are  nothing. 
 
 "  With  respect  to  those  Avho  are  awakened,  I  conceive  it  is 
 our  duty  to  act  as  fellow- workers  Avith  the  Divine  Spirit;  to 
 
EDWARD    PA  YSON. 
 
 245 
 
 insist  principally  on  those  truths  of  which  he  first  convinces 
 them,  and  to  endeavor,  both  by  our  preaching  and  conversation, 
 to  bring  them  to  the  same  point  to  which  he  aims  to  bring  them. 
 This  point  is  complete  self-d«spair,  and  hope  in  Christ.  The 
 former  is  a  pre-requisite  to  the  latter.  1  therefore,  aim,  in  the 
 first  place,  to  increase  their  convictions  of  sins,  especially  of 
 the  great,  damning  sin  of  unbelief  If  they  ask.  What  shall 
 Ave-do  ?  I  never  dare  give  them  any  other  answer  than  that 
 given  by  Christ  and  his  apostles :  '  Repent,  and  believe  the  gos- 
 pel' I  insist  much  on  the  character  of  God  ;  the  strictness,  ex- 
 tent and  spirituality  of  his  law  ;  the  various  artifices,  deceptions, 
 and  excuses  of  the  heart ;  the  false  hopes  of  sinners  and  hypo- 
 crites;  the  nature  of  true  and  false  conversion;  and  the  great 
 danger  of  being  deceived.  I  also  frequently  warn  them  of  the 
 dreadful  consequences  of  delaying  repentance,  grieving  the  Spirit, 
 losing  their  convictions,  or  resting  on  false  hopes,  like  the  stony 
 ground  hearers.  I  labor  especially  to  convince  them  that  all 
 the  difiiculties  which  oppose  their  salvation  lie  in  their  own 
 hearts  —  that  Christ  is  willing  to  save  them — but  they  are  un- 
 willing to  be  saved  in  his  way,  and  are,  therefore,  without  excuse. 
 This  is  a  very  important  point.  I  have  seen  none  go  back  who 
 appeared  to  be  truly  convinced  of  this.  In  addition  to  this,  I 
 say  much  of  the  glory,  beauty,  and  sufficiency  of  Christ,  and 
 of  the  perfect  freeness  of  the  blessings  which  he  offers,  and 
 endeavor  to  show  them  the  horrid  pride,  ingratitude,  <fcc.,  of 
 neglecting  to  accept  of  them.  These  are  some  of  the  principal 
 subjects  on  Avhich  I  preach  to  inquirers.  You  will  easily  de- 
 termine what  are  the  most  proper  texts  from  which  to  explain 
 and  enforce  them. 
 
 "With  respect  to  our  inquiry  meetings,  I  can  only  tell  you 
 that  we  have  them  once  a  week,  afternoons  for  females,  evenings 
 for  males.  It  is  difficult  to  persuade  them  to  converse  as  freely 
 as  might  be  wished.  You  will  find,  however,  as  your  experi- 
 ence increases,  that  it  is  of  little  consequence  whether  they  say 
 much  or  not,  as  a  single  sentence  will  often  give  you  as  perfect 
 a  view  of  their  character  and  feelings,  as  you  could  acquire 
 from  the  longest  conversation.  But,  if  you  wish  them  to  con- 
 verse with  you  with  freedom,  you  must  visit  them  at  home. 
 Your  greatest  danger  will  be  in  comforting  them  too  soon.  All 
 comfort  is  dangerous  till  they  surrender  unconditionally  to  tht. 
 
246 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 sovereign  grace  of  God.  It  is  much  safer  to  err  on  the  other 
 side." 
 
 The  extract  which  follows  describes  the  origin  of  a  meeting 
 that  was  long  continued,  and  signally  blessed:  — 
 
 "Nov.  14,  1814. 
 "Three  weeks  since,  I  preached  to  the  young,  from  the  words 
 of  Christ,  when  twelve  years  old —  'I  must  be  about  my  Father's 
 business. '  At  the  close  of  the  sermon,  I  invited  all  the  young 
 men,  who  were  fully  determined  to  engage  immediately  in  their 
 Father's  work,  to  meet  me  in  the  evening,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
 told  them  I  was  not  confident  that  any  of  them  would  come. 
 However,  about  forty  attended.  After  stating  to  them  the  diffi- 
 culties and  temptations  they  would  meet  with,  and  the  sacrifices 
 they  must  make  in  a  religious  course,  I  advised  them  to  consider 
 of  it  a  fortnight,  and,  if  they  still  felt  resolved  to  persevere,  to 
 meet  me  again.  About  thirty  came  the  second  evening;  and, 
 though  I  cannot  calculate  upon  all,  or  even  the  major  part  of 
 them,  becoming  Christians,  yet  I  hope  some  of  them  will." 
 
 Two  or  three  times,  during  his  ministry,  he  adopted  what 
 would  be  generally  regarded  as  bold  measures;  and  they  would 
 have  been  absolutely  rash  and  injurious,  had  they  not  originated 
 in  a  sincere  and  glowing  zeal  for  God,  and  the  eternal  welfare 
 of  men.  It  would  be  hazardous  for  another  to  imitate  him 
 herein,  without  some  portion  of  his  spirit.  Yet  who,  that  esti- 
 mates the  worth  of  the  soul,  will  dare  to  censure  his  conduct, 
 or  say  that  the  importance  of  the  object  was  not,  at  least,  com- 
 mensurate with  his  zeal 7 
 
 "Feb.  21,  1815. 
 "We  have  a  great  revival  commencmg.  We  have  been  ex- 
 pecting it  some  time ;  and  a  few  weeks  since,  at  the  close  of  a 
 suitable  sermon,  I  informed  the  congregation  that  I  believed  God 
 was  about  to  bless  us,  and  told  them  that  the  quarterly  fast  of 
 Ihe  church  was  at  hand,  and  that,  if  they  would  consent  to  unite 
 with  the  church  in  the  fast,  we  would  meet  in  the  meeting-house, 
 instead  of  the  conference  room,  where  we  usually  assemble  on 
 such  occasions.    At  the  same  time,  I  invited  those  who  were 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 247 
 
 willing  to  meet  the  church  to  signify  it  by  rising.  Aboiit  two- 
 thirds  of  the  congregation  instantly  rose.  It  was  a  most  solemn 
 scene.  The  church,  to  whom  the  measure  was  altogether  un- 
 expected, were  almost  overwhelmed  with  various  emotions,  and 
 scarcely  knew  whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry,  to  hope  or  fear,  ^^ou 
 may  well  suppose  that  the  interval  between  the  Sabbath  and 
 the  fast  was  a  trying  season  to  me.  I  felt  that  I  had  completely 
 committed  myself — that  my  all  was  at  stake  —  that,  if  a  blessing 
 did  not  attend  the  measure,  every  mouth  would  be  open  to  con- 
 demn it;  and  it  seemed  as  if  I  could  hardly  survive  a  disappoint- 
 ment. I  should  not  have  taken  such  a  step,  had  I  not  believed 
 I  had  sufficient  reason  for  trusting  that  God  would  bear  me  out 
 in  it;  and  I  thought  if  he  did  not  bear  me  out,  I  never  should 
 again  know  what  to  expect — never  should  feel  confidence  to 
 pray.  I  expected  severe  trials,  but  had  few  fears  of  the  event. 
 The  trials  came,  but  they  did  not  come  in  the  way  that  I  expect- 
 ed, and  therefore  I  was  surprised  and  overcome  by  them.  The 
 day  of  the  fast  was  the  most  dreadful  day  of  my  life — the  day 
 in  which  I  had  most  dreadful  proofs  of  more  than  diabolical 
 depravity  of  heart.  The  meeting-house  was  full,  but  things  did 
 not  go  on  in  the  manner  I  had  hoped  and  expected.  I  thought 
 all  was  lost;  and  I  now  wonder  that  I  lived  through  it  —  that  a 
 broken  heart,  as  Mr.  Newton  says  disappointed  pride  and  mad- 
 ness are  called,  was  not  the  consequence.  For  some  days  I  saw 
 and  heard  nothing  encouraging,  and  my  distress  was  unabated; 
 but  at  the  next  inquiry  meeting,  I  found  more  than  sixty  inquir- 
 ers. This  number,  within  a  week,  was  considerably  increased, 
 and  eight  or  ten  have  obtained  comfort.  The  prospect  is  now 
 more  encouraging  than  it  has  been  since  my  settlement." 
 
 Below  is  an  incidental  mention  of  the  multiplicity  of  his  labors, 
 from  which  may  be  inferred  the  despatch  with  which  he  habit- 
 ually executed  his  appropriate  work:  — 
 
 "May  21,  1816. 
 "  My  avocations  were  never  so  numerous.  I  have  two  sermons, 
 which  I  wish)  if  possible,  to  prepare  for  the  press,  but  fear  I 
 never  shall  find  time.  I  have  also  three  ordination  sermons  to 
 preach  within  two  months,  sermons  before  two  missionary  socie- 
 ties within  the  same  time,  and,  on  the  second  Sabbath  in  July, 
 
248 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 I  have  an  engagement  to  preach  in  Portsmouth,  before  the  man- 
 agers of  the  Female  Asykim.  Besides  this,  I  preach  four 
 sermons,  and  attend  two  inqniry  meetings,  Aveekly,  &.c.  <fcc. 
 Judge,  then,  whether  I  am  not  worn  out,  and  whether  I  do  not 
 need  your  prayers  more  than  ever.  As  to  a  revival,  my  wishes 
 for  it  are  not,  cannot  he  too  strong,  if  they  are  disinterested,  and 
 not  selfish.  Though  I  am  wearing  myself  out,  it  is,  1  sometimes 
 fear,  rather  in  the  service  of  self  than  in  the  service  of  God; 
 and  this  reflection  imbi iters  every  thing  I  do.  It  would  be 
 heaven  to  labor  for  God,  but  it  is  misery  to  labor  for  one's  self. 
 As  to  the  slang  you  hear  about  a  revelation,  I  need  not  tell  you 
 that  there  is  no  truth  in  it.  However,  I  hope  the  Lord  has  some 
 people  yet  to  be  gathered  in  here.  We  have  admitted  thirty- 
 three  since  the  year  came  in,  and  nine  stand  propounded ;  the 
 number  of  inquirers  about  one  hundred,  and  slowly  increasing." 
 
 "April  13,  1820. 
 "We  have  some  encouraging  appearances,  as  we  have  often 
 had  before,  but  nothing  decisive.  Last  Sabbath  I  invited  the 
 male  part  of  the  parish,  who  were  willing  to  be  considered  m- 
 quirers  after  religion,  to  meet  me  in  the  evening.  Between  thirty 
 and  forty  attended,  but  I  fear  that  very  few  of  them  are  deeply 
 impressed.  We  have  about  the  same  number  of  females,  who 
 are  in  a  similar  state;  and  it  seems,  as  it  has  for  a  long  time, 
 that,  if  God  would  work  a  little  more  powerfully,  there  would 
 be  a  great  rcAnval.    But  I  desire  to  wait." 
 
 "August,  6,  182L 
 "  As  to  my  desires  for  a  revival,  I  have  not,  and  never  had, 
 the  least  doubt  that  they  are  exceedingly  corrupt  and  sinful.  A 
 thousand  wrong  motives  have  conspired  to  excite  them.  Still  I 
 do  not  believe  that  my  desires  were  ever  half  so  strong  as  they 
 ought  to  be;  nor  do  I  see  how  a  minister  can  help  being  in  a 
 'constant  fever,'  in  such  a  town  as  this,  where  his  Master  is 
 dishonored,  and  souls  are  destroyed  in  so  many  ways.  Yon  can 
 scarcely  conceive  how  may  things  occur,  almost  daily,  to  distress 
 and  crush  me.  All  these  are  nothing,  when  my  Master  is  with 
 me;  but,  when  he  is  absent,  I  am  of  all  men  most  miserable. 
 But  now  he  is  with  me  and  I  am  happy. 
 
 "We  have  just  set  up  a  meeting  on  a  new  plan.  Notes,  to  this 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 249 
 
 effect,  are  put  into  a  box  at  the  door: — 'A member  of  this  chiircli 
 desires  prayers  for  the  conversion  of  a  husband,  a  child,  a  parent,' 
 &c.,  as  the  case  may  be.  These  notes  are  then  read,  and  prayers 
 are  offered.  We  have  had  but  one  meeting;  the  evening  was 
 rainy,  but  nearly  forty  notes  were  given  in,  and  it  was  the  most 
 solemn  meeting  we  have  had  for  a  long  time.  Among  the  notes - 
 were  two  from  persons  M'-ho  think  they  were  deceived  when  they 
 made  a  profession  of  religion,  desiring  prayers  that  they  may 
 be  truly  converted.  The  church  has  also  had  a  day  of  thanks- 
 giving, lately,  to  acknowledge  what  God  has  done  for  us,  and 
 it  was  a  comfortable  season.  —  These  things  give  me  some  en- 
 couragement; but  we  have  been  so  often  disappointed,  that  I 
 scarcely  dare  to  hope." 
 
 A  letter  to  a  young  clergyman,  written  soon  after  the  preceding 
 extract,  contains  a  still  more  complete  sketch  of  his  labors  at 
 this  time.  It  has  been  extensively  copied  by  the  religious  peri- 
 odicals of  the  country,  one  of  which  professes  to  be  "shocked  at 
 his  expressions  in  relation  to  revivals, "  as  indicating  "that  temer- 
 ity which  would  rely  on  the  impotent  arm  of  the  creature."  If 
 his  language  is  susceptible  of  such  a  construction,  it  most 
 unhappily  misrepresents  his  judgment  and  his  heart.  For, 
 though  he  was  "abundant  in  labors,"  no  man  ever  ascribed  less 
 efficacy  to  means,  or  felt  more  entirely  his  exclusive  dependence 
 upon  the  Holy  Spirit. 
 
 "Portland,  Aug.  17,  1821. 
 "  My  dear  brother  : — I  have  just  received  your  kind  letter,  and 
 hope  it  has  done  me  some  good.  I  thank  you  for  it,  though  the 
 perusal  of  it  has  given  me  much  pain.  It  is  evident  that  you 
 think  far  more  favorably  of  me  than  I  deserve ;  and  your  apply- 
 ing to  me  for  advice  shames  and  mortifies  me  exceedingly. 
 But  I  dare  not  say  Avhat  I  feel  on  this  subject,  lest  you  should 
 think  me  humble,  which  is  far  enough  from  being  the  case. 
 Besides,  you  wish  me  to  write  respecting  myself  and  my  labors, 
 and  this  is  the  very  subject  on  which  I  am  most  unwilling  to 
 write,  because  I  find  it  most  dangerous.  It  affbrds  an  opportu- 
 nity for  gratifying  an  accursed  spirit  of  self-seeking,  which  has 
 ever  been  my  bane  and  torment,  and  which  insinuates  itself  into 
 every  thing  1  say  or  do.    I  know  not  that  I  have  ever  spoken  of 
 
250 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 myself  without  furnishing  cause  for  sorrow  and  shame.  How, 
 then,  can  I  write  as  you  request  me  to  do?  or  what  can  I  say 
 that  will  be  of  any  service  to  you  ?  But  you  will  reply  that 
 God  can  bless  the  feeblest  means.  True  ;  and  therefore  1  will 
 write,  though  I  foresee  that  I  shall  smart  for  it. 
 
 "You  ask  for  a  general  view  of  my  pastoral  labors,  method 
 of  preaching,  6&c.  &c.  Since  the  failure  of  my  health,  I  preach 
 but  three  sermons  in  a  week — two  on  the  Sabbath,  and  one  on 
 Thursday  evening.  On  that  evening  and  Sabbath  morning,  I 
 preach  without  notes,  but  generally  form  a  skeleton  of  my  ser- 
 mon. I  should  like  to  write  more,  but  my  health  will  not 
 permit;  and  I  find  that,  when  any  good  is  done,  it  is  my  extem- 
 pore sermons  which  do  it.  I  am  afraid  of  producing  a  faith 
 which  stands  not  in  the  power  of  God,  but  in  the  wisdom  of 
 men,  and,  therefore,  make  as  little  use  as  possible  of  human 
 arguments,  but  confine  myself  to  a  plain,  simple  exhibition  of 
 divine  truth.  The  sword  of  the  Spirit  will  not  wound  if  it  has 
 a  scabbard  on  it.  I  also  aim  to  preach  the  truths  of  the  gospel 
 in  a  practical  and  experimental,  rather  than  a  dry  and  specula- 
 tive manner.  In  preaching  to  professing  Christians,  I  endeavor 
 to  rouse  and  humble,  rather  than  to  comfort  them ;  for,  if  they 
 can  be  kept  humble,  comfort  will  follow  of  course.  Besides, 
 1  do  not  suppose  that  Christians  need  as  much  consolation 
 now  as  they  did  in  the  primitive  ages,  when  exposed  to  perse- 
 cution. 
 
 "Our  church  is  divided  into  seven  districts;  the  members  of 
 each  district  meet  for  prayer  and  conversation  once  a  month, 
 and  the  brethren  residing  in  each  district  are  a  standing  com- 
 mittee of  the  church,  for  that  district,  to  supply  the  wants  of  the 
 poor,  and  bring  before  the  church,  in  due  form,  any  case  of  dis- 
 cipline which  may  occur. — We  have  a  monthly  meeting  of  all 
 the  brethren  for  business,  a  church  conference  every  Tuesday 
 evening,  a  prayer  meeting  on  Friday  evening,  a  monthly 
 prayer  meeting  for  the  Sabbath  schools,  and  the  monthly 
 union  concert  for  prayer.  We  have  also  an  inquiry  meeting 
 for  males,  on  Sabbath  evening,  and  for  females,  on  Friday  after- 
 noon. 
 
 "  As  to  method  in  the  division  of  time,  I  have  none  ;  but  live 
 altogether  extempore.  This  is  pardy  owing  to  the  wretched 
 state  of  my  health,  which  deprives  me  of  at  least  three  days  in 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 261 
 
 every  week,  and  partly  to  continual  interruptions  from  visitors, 
 •whom  I  must  see.  I  knew  not  how  to  bear  this,  till  I  met  with 
 the  following  maxim  of  an  eminent  minister  :  '  The  man  who 
 wants  me  is  the  man  I  want.' 
 
 "  My  rule,  in  regard  to  visiting,  is  to  visit  as  much  as  time  and 
 health  will  permit.  I  make  none  but  pastoral  visits.  I  gave 
 uiy  people  to  understand,  when  I  was  settled,  that  they  must 
 never  invite  me  to  dine  or  sup  when  they  did  not  wish  to  have 
 the  conversation  turn  wholly  on  religious  subjects.  This  has 
 ^aved  me  much  time  and  trouble. 
 
 "  The  books  which  I  have  found  most  useful  to  me  are  Ed- 
 wards's Works,  Brainerd's  Life,  Newton's  Letters,  Owen's 
 Treatise  on  Indwelling  Sin,  Mortification  of  Sin  in  Believers, 
 and  the  130th  Psalm,  and  Thomas  a  Kempis's  Imitation  of 
 Christ,  translated  by  Payne — for  Stanhope's  translation  I  think 
 not  so  good.  If  you  have  not  seen  Thomas  a  Kempis,  I  beg 
 yon  to  procure  it.  Some  things  you  will  not  like  ;  but,  for  spir- 
 ituality and  weanedness  from  the  world,  I  know  of  nothing 
 equal  to  it.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  include,  in  the  above  list, 
 Baxter's  Reformed  Pastor,  and  Saint's  Rest. 
 
 "  It  would  require  a  volume  to  detail  the  experiments  I  have 
 made,  and  the  means  I  have  used  to  effect  a  revival  of  religion 
 and,  after  it  was  written,  it  would  not  be  worth  reading.  I  will, 
 however,  just  mention  what  we  are  doing  now.  We  have  estab- 
 lished a  prayer  meeting  on  the  following  plan : — Members  of 
 the  church,  and  others,  if  they  think  proper,  present  notes 
 requesting  prayers  for  the  conversion  of  any  friend  or  relative 
 for  whom  they  feel  anxious.  No  names  are  mentioned.  The 
 notes  are  placed  in  a  small  box  by  the  door,  and  afterwards 
 handed  to  me  to  be  read.  We  have  had  two  meetings.  They 
 were  uncommonly  solemn,  and  many  of  the  notes  were  very 
 affecting.  One  was,  'A  female  stranger  desires  your  prayers 
 for  her  conversion.'  Another,  '  One  of  the  society  desires  your 
 prayers  for  the  conversion  of  her  husband  and  herself  Several 
 were  from  old  professors,  who  fear  that  they  have  been  deceived, 
 and  a  great  number  from  husbands,  wives,  and  parents,  desiring 
 prayers  for  their  partners,  children,  6cc.  When  we  came  to 
 spread  all  these  cases  before  God  as  the  only  Giver  of  good 
 thingS;  the  scene  was  awfully  solemn  and  affecting. 
 
 ******* 
 
252 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "I  think  with  you,  that  the  management  of  a  revival  is  a 
 very  difficult  thing.  It  is,  I  believe,  a  subject  as  yet  very  imper- 
 fectly understood.    At  least,  I  know  but  very  little  of  it. 
 
 "  I  think  I  can  conceive,  in  some  measure,  of  the  inconven- 
 ience you  experience  in  consequence  of  the  great  extent  of  your 
 parish.  It  mu.st  be  exceedingly  difficult  to  collect  your  church 
 together  as  often  as  you  would  wish,  and  to  perform  ministerial 
 duties.  A  minister,  however,  who  has  but  a  small  parish,  is 
 required  to  do  all  that  he  can,  and  you  are  required  to  do  no 
 more.  Still  it  is  exceedingly  painful  to  see  many  things  which 
 need  to  be  done,  but  which  we  cannot  find  time  or  strength  to 
 do.  My  parish,  as  well  as  my  heart,  very  much  resembles  the 
 garden  of  the  sluggard  ;  and,  what  is  worse,  I  find  that  most  of 
 my  desires  for  the  melioration  of  both  proceed  either  from  pride, 
 or  vanity,  or  indolence.  I  look  at  the  weeds  which  overspread 
 my  garden,  and  breathe  out  an  earnest  wish  that  they  were 
 eradicated.  But  why  7  What  prompts  the  wish  1  It  may  be 
 that  I  may  walk  out  and  say  to  myself,  '  In  what  fine  order  is 
 my  garden  kept !'  This  is  pride.  Or  it  may  be  that  my  neigh- 
 bors may  look  over  the  wall,  and  say,  '  How  finely  your  garden 
 flourishes  !'  This  is  vanity.  Or  I  may  wish  for  the  destruction 
 of  the  weeds  because  I  am  weary  of  pulling  them  up.  This  is 
 indolence.  Yet  from  such  sources,  I  fear,  do  most  of  my  desires 
 for  personal  holiness,  and  for  the  progress  of  religion  in  my 
 society,  proceed.    I  hope  and  trust  it  is  otherwise  with  you.  ' 
 
 "As  I  write  with  perfect  freedom,  I  will  take  the  liberty  to 
 mention  one  thing  more,  which,  if  I  always  attended  to,  it 
 would,  I  believe,  be  highly  beneficial.  The  disciples,  we  read, 
 'returned  to  Jesus,  and  told  him  all  things,  both  what  they  had 
 done  and  what  they  had  taught.'  I  think,  that  if  we  would, 
 every  evening,  come  to  our  Master's  feet,  and  tell  him  where 
 we  have  been,  what  we  have  done,  what  we  have  said,  and 
 what  were  the  motives  by  which  we  have  been  actuated,  it 
 would  have  a  salutary  effect  upon  our  whole  conduct.  While 
 reading  over  each  day's  page  of  life,  with  the  consciousness 
 that  He  was  reading  it  with  us,  we  should  detect  many  errors 
 and  defects,  v/hich  would  otherwise  pass  unnoticed.  Pardon 
 this  hint.    I  trust  you  do  not  need  it. 
 
 "I  have  written  a  long  letter,  and  yet,  I  fear,  said  nothing 
 which  will  be  of  the  smallest  service  to  you.    But  you  must, 
 
EDWARD    PAY  SON. 
 
 253 
 
 as  our  kind  Master  does,  take  the  will  for  the  deed.  May  He 
 fill  you  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  with  faith,  and  make  you 
 nistrumental  of  adding  much  people  to  the  Lord.  So  prays 
 your  sincere  friend." 
 
 He  was  particularly  observant  of  current  events,  and  careful 
 to  make  them  all  subservient  to  the  great  purposes  of  his  minis- 
 try. By  these  his  exhortations  were  often  enforced ;  and  hence 
 some  of  the  severest  reproofs  which  he  administered  were  drawn. 
 At  the  close  of  public  worship,  one  Sabbath,  he  gave  notice  that 
 the  different  churches  in  the  town  would  observe  the  following 
 Wednesday  as  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer  for  divine  influen- 
 ces ;  and,  after  mentioning  that  religious  exercises  would  be 
 attended  in  the  morning,  afternoon,  and  evening,  he  observed : 
 "Should  any  be  disj^osed  to  ask,  with  the  Pharisees  of  old,  'To 
 what  purpose  is  this  waste  of  time  ?'  I  would  remind  them  of 
 the  attention  lately  bestowed  on  an  earthly  benefactor.  One 
 united,  earnest  request  was  made  to  him,  that  he  would  visit 
 this  country,  for  which,  in  times  of  trial,  he  had  sacrificed  ease 
 and  domestic  comfort,  and  hazarded  his  life  and  treasure.  He 
 acceded  to  the  invitation  of  a  grateful  people ;  he  has  visited 
 you.  You  spared  neither  time  nor  expense  to  give  him  an  hon- 
 orable reception.  And  have  you  not,  my  friends,  a  Heavenly 
 Benefactor,  from  whom  you  receive  every  good  and  perfect  gift? 
 a  Saviour,  who  has  given  his  life  to  redeem  you  from  everlast- 
 ing bondage  and  misery  ?  When  will  one  hearty,  united  request 
 arise  from  this  place,  that  our  God  and  Redeemer  will  visit  i\sl 
 And  should  he  come,  would  he  be  welcomed  as  was  the  bene- 
 factor just  alluded  to  1  It  is  true  that,  in  one  sense,  God  is  ever 
 present ;  but  he  can  be  with  us  in  such  a  manner  that  his  pres- 
 ence will  be  felt,  and  the  effects  of  it  made  visible.  And  the  ef- 
 fects of  his  absence,  too,  rtiay  be  seen,  while  no  cheering  rays  of  his 
 life-giving  Spirit  are  imparted.  And  shall  we  grudge  a  day,  to 
 be  devoted  to  special  entreaty,  that  he  would  come  in  the  chariot 
 of  his  salvation,  from  conquering  to  conquer  ?  that  he  would 
 make  us  glad  with  the  light  of  his  countenance  ?  Was  one  day 
 too  short  for  all  the  acknowledgements  which  we  were  desirous 
 to  make  to  our  nation's  friend  7  And  is  it  too  long  to  be  devo- 
 ted to  him  who  is  the  Redeemer  of  the  world,  from  whom 
 come th  our  salvation,  and  whose  favor  is  immortal  life?" 
 
254 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 Among  his  various  methods  of  drawing  attention  to  the  sub- 
 ject of  religion,  and  impressing  the  mind  with  its  importance, 
 the  following  is,  perhaps,  worthy  of  preservation,  for  the  practi- 
 cal hmt  which  it  conveys  : — 
 
 "  Once,  in  the  course  of  my  ministry,  I  made  an  analysis  of 
 all  the  sermons  which  I  had  preached  to  my  people  for  six 
 months,  and  imbodied  it  in  one  sermon,  and  preached  it  to  them. 
 They  were  astonished,  and  I  was  astonished,  at  the  amount  of 
 truth  which  had  been  presented  to  them,  and,  to  human  appear- 
 ance, with  very  little  effect." — How  descriptive  of  his  constant 
 solicitude,  and  of  the  various  exertions  to  which  it  prompted  him, 
 are  the  lines  of  the  poet : — 
 
 "  And  as  a  bird  each  fond  endearment  tries 
 To  tempt  its  new-fledged  offspring  to  the  skies, 
 He  tried  each  art,  reproved  each  dull  delay, 
 Allured  to  brighter  worlds,  and  led  the  way." 
 
 It  would  be  matter  for  lamentation,  if  the  preceding  state- 
 ments of  insulated  facts  should  be  so  interpreted  as  to  convey  to 
 strangers  an  impression  altogether  erroneous  respecting  Dr. 
 Payson's  general  manner  of  exercising  the  ministry.  He  was  a 
 staunch  friend  to  the  "  good  old  way,"  and  generally  adhered 
 to  it  in  the  discharge  of  ministerial  duties;  his  deviations  were 
 circumstantial.  He  differed  from  others  in  the  zeal  and  earnest- 
 ness with  which  he  prosecuted  the  ordinary  routine  of  clerical 
 services^  more  than  in  the  novelty  and  extravagance  of  his 
 measures.  The  new  aspect  which  his  society  assumed,  in 
 consequence  of  the  blessing  of  God  upon  his  faithful  and  zealous 
 labors,  required  meetings  and  exercises  of  a  specific  character, 
 and,  of  course,  some  addition  to  their  number.  To  render  these 
 in  the  highest  degree  subservient  to  the  spiritual  good  of  his 
 charge,  was  his  uniform  aim,  in  the  pursuit  of  which  he  made 
 the  most  felicitous  use  of  every  providential  event  and  every 
 noticeable  fact  in  the  circumstances  of  his  people,  as  a  means  of 
 enforcing  truths  and  duties  of  immediate  and  indispensable 
 importance.  His  very  few  direct  deviations  from  the  regular 
 course,  particularly  calling  upon  the  congregation  to  rise,  though 
 adopted  from  a  full  conviction,  at  the  time,  that  the  crisis 
 demanded  them,  seem  to  have  been  viewed  by  him  afterwards 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 255 
 
 as  of  rather  questionable  expediency,  as  is  evident  from  the 
 apology  which  the  reader  has  already  seen,  under  date  of  Feb. 
 21,  1815,  and  from  an  allusion  yet  to  be  seen,  in  his  diary, 
 ■where  he  characterizes  them  as  "  extraordinary,  and  perhaps 
 imprudent  measures."  A  frequent  resort  to  them  he  most 
 certainly  would  not  justify;  for  he  makes  their  defence  to  rest  on 
 the  extraordinary  circumstances  of  the  case,  and  on  the  fact 
 that  he  adopted  them  "  after  much  prayer  for  direction."  It 
 should  be  remembered,  too,  that  he  was  the  established  pastor, 
 that  he  stood  high  in  the  affections  and  confidence  of  his  people, 
 who  had  witnessed  the  rapid  growth  of  his  extraordinary  piety, 
 for  a  period  of  eight  or  ten  years,  without  having  discovered  a 
 single  circumstance  to  discredit  its  reality  or  strength.  They 
 knew  him  to  be  a  man  of  great  simplicity  of  purpose,  who  did 
 nothing  for  stage  effect ;  and  whatever  might  be  their  judgment 
 of  particular  acts,  they  were  sure  he  watched  for  their  souls 
 as  one  that  must  give  account,  and  was  not  accustomed  to  "  say 
 a  word  to  sinners,  except  when  he  had  a  broken  heart  himself." 
 These  and  other  circumstances,  which  might  be  mentioned, 
 distinguish  his  measures  from  those  of  the  mere  temporary  or 
 itinerant  preacher,  and  afford,  at  most,  but  a  very  dubious 
 sanction  lo  the  wilder  tendencies  of  some  more  recent  evan- 
 gelists. 
 
 The  feelings  which  prompted  and  sustained  his  restless  activ- 
 ity for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  salvation  of  men,  very  frequently 
 disclose  themselves  in  his  correspondence  and  diary  ;  — 
 
 "  December  26,  1821. 
 "  I  do  not  think  you  understand  my  feelings  about  a  revival. 
 Unless  I  am  very  much  deceived,  I  have  no  controversy  with 
 God  respecting  it.  But  ought  a  minister  to  feel  easy  while  his 
 people  are  perishing,  and  Christians  are  dishonoring  their  Mas- 
 ter? Did  not  Paul  feel  great  heaviness,  and  continual  sorrow 
 of  heart,  for  his  countrymen  7  All  the  joy  and  gratitude  he  felt, 
 in  view  of  what  God  had  done  for  him  and  by  him,  could  not 
 remove  that  sorrow.  And  the  prophet  would  weep  day  and 
 night  for  the  daughter  of  his  people.  Instead  of  feeling  less,  it 
 seems  to  me  that  I  ought  to  feel  more,  and  to  have  no  rest.  But 
 I  do  not  murmur  at  God's  dealings.    I  only  wonder  that  he  ever 
 
256 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 did  any  tiling  for  me  or  by  me ;  and  that  he  has  not  long  smce, 
 cast  me  out  of  his  vineyard.  As  to  the  bed-ridden  female  you 
 mention,  I  see  nothing  very  wonderful  in  her  rejoicing  and  grat- 
 itude. Well  may  she  rejoice  and  be  grateful  when  she  is  filled 
 full  of  divine  consolation.  She  has  outward  trials,  it  is  true; 
 but  what  are  they,  when  Christ  is  present  ?  Who  wants  can- 
 dles when  he  has  the  sun  ]  Give  me  her  consolations,  and  I 
 will  sing  as  loud  as  she  does.  And  let  her  have  my  showers  of 
 fiery  darts,  and  my  other  trials,  and,  unless  I  am  much  mistak- 
 en, she  will  groan  as  much  as  I  do.  I  have  seen  very  young 
 Christians  terribly  afflicted  by  bodily  pain  and  sickness,  for 
 months  together,  and  all  the  time  full  of  joy  and  thankfulness; 
 and  1  have  seen  the  same  persons  afterwards,  when  they  were 
 surronnded  by  temporal  mercies,  show  very  little  of  either. 
 Things  seem  to  be  a  little  on  the  mending  hand  ;  and  the  church 
 are  again  beginning  to  hope  for  a  revival.  Last  Sabbath  was 
 an  uncommonly  solemn  day." 
 
 "  Aug.  20,  1823. 
 "  It  has  been,  and  still  is,  a  season  of  spiritual  deadness 
 among  us.  I  have  preached  so  plainly,  especially  to  the  church, 
 that  I  feared  they  would  not  bear  it,  and  that  we  should  come 
 to  an  open  rupture.  However,  they  have  borne  it  very  well, 
 and  there  seems  now  to  be  more  of  a  disposition  among  them 
 to  make  exertion ;  but  it  is  impossible  to  say  what  the  result 
 will  be. 
 
 "  If  you  have  not  written  to  lately,  it  would  be  well  to 
 
 cheer  him  with  a  letter.  Poor  man  !  he  seems  to  be  just  enter- 
 ing on  Newton's  second  stage,  the  characteristic  of  which,  you 
 recollect,  is  conflict.  However,  I  trust  he  will  be  carried  safely 
 through.  I  wish,  with  all  my  heart,  that  Satan  wonld  fight 
 against  the  peace  of  some  of  our  church  more  than  he  does; 
 but  he  is  too  cunning  to  do  that.  He  sees  that  they  are  slum- 
 bering, and  he  will  take  care  not  to  wake  them.  You  can 
 scarcely  form  an  idea  how  soporific  the  air  of  a  seaport  is,  nor 
 of  the  irresistible  force  with  which  the  world  assails  Christians 
 in  such  a  place  as  this.  The  moment  they  step  out  of  doors,  it 
 rushes  in  at  their  eyes  and  ears,  in  ten  thousand  shapes,  so  that, 
 unless  their  hearts  are  pre-occupied  with  better  things,  they  are 
 filled  with  it  in  a  moment.    By  turns  I  expostulate,  and  plead, 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 257 
 
 and  warn,  and  threaten,  and  weep,  and  pray,  and  sometimes 
 almost  scold,  but  all  in  vain.  The  world  drags  away  its  vic- 
 tims, and  laughs  my  feeble  efforts  to  scorn." 
 
 "  Dec.  5,  1823. 
 
 "A  few  weeks  since,  I  set  up  a  Bible  class  for  young  persons 
 over  fourteen  years  of  age.  About  two  hundred  and  fifty  at- 
 tend, and  some  of  them  appear  interested;  but  none  are  awa- 
 kened as  yet.  However,  God  must  have  some  chosen  ones 
 among  the  rising  generation,  and  he  will,  sooner  or  later,  bring 
 them  in;  but  I  fear  that  all,  or  nearly  all,  who  have  passed  the 
 meridian  of  life — I  mean  in  my  society — are  given  over  to 
 final  hardness  of  heart." 
 
 "Jan.  31,  1824. 
 
 "  Yesterday  was  our  quarterly  fast,  and  I  pursued  a  new 
 method.  I  first  confessed  my  own  sins  to  the  church,  asked 
 their  forgiveness,  and  then  requested  them  to  unite  with  me  in 
 praying  that  God  would  forgive  me,  and  ordain  me  afresh  as 
 their  pastor.  I  then,  having,  as  I  hope,  cast  the  beam  out  of 
 my  own  eye,  proceeded  to  take  the  mote  out  of  the  eye  of  my 
 brethren.  I  first  called  upon  the  deacons  to  follow  my  example, 
 if  they  thought  proper,  by  confessing  their  sins,  and  appointing 
 one  of  their  number  to  lead  in  prayer,  that  they  might  be  for- 
 given. A  similar  call  was  then  made  upon  the  brethren,  and, 
 after  that,  upon  the  sisters,  for  whom  I  acted  as  mouth.  A 
 great  deal  was  said,  which  I  cannot  write,  but  for  want  of 
 which  you  will  not  fully  understand  our  method  of  proceeding, 
 nor  all  the  reasons  of  it.  It  must  suffice  to  say,  that  we  at- 
 tempted to  obey,  on  a  large  scale,  the  exhortation  of  James : 
 'Confess  your  faults  one  to  another,  and  pray  for  one  another, 
 that  ye  may  be  healed.'  I  cannot  but  hope  that  it  will  prove  to 
 have  been  a  profitable  season,  and  that  a  blessing  wiU  follow 
 it." 
 
 "May  2,  1825.  • 
 
 "  I  returned  last  week  on  Wednesday,  preached  a  preparatory 
 lecture  on  Thursday,  attended  the  church  quarterly  fast  on 
 Friday,  prepared  for  the  Sabbath  on  Saturday,  and,  yesterday, 
 preached  twice,  administered  the  sacrament,  and  addressed  and 
 prayed  with  the  baptized  youth.  The  consequence  is  that  I  am 
 only  half  alive  this  morning.  L.  and  a  young  lady  who  boards 
 with  us  were  very  much  affected  by  the  address  to  baptized 
 VOL.  I.  33 
 
258 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 youth.  They  wept  all  the  last  evening,  and  appear  very  solemn 
 this  morning ;  but  L.  has  so  often  been  affected  in  a  similar 
 manner,  that  I  dare  not  promise  myself  much  from  present  ap- 
 pearances. It  is,  however,  evident  that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  con- 
 stantly striving  Avith  her  ;  she  is  never  perfectly  at  ease  ;  and  1 
 cannot  but  hope  she  will,  ere  long,  become  a  subject  of  grace. 
 
 "  In  a  religious  view,  things  remain  with  us  very  much  as 
 they  have  been,  though  I  think  the  church,  or  some  of  them,  at 
 least,  are  becoming  more  alive  than  they  were.  I  have  latelj' 
 had  some  delightful  meditations  on  the  priesthood  of  Christ.  1 
 was  led  to  them  by  thinking  how  a  penitent  Israelite  must  have 
 regarded  his  high  priest.  We  may  consider  such  a  man  as  say- 
 ing— '  I  am  a  miserable,  polluted  sinner.  I  cannot  enter  the 
 holy  place  where  God  dwells,  but  am  kept  at  a  distance.  I 
 cannot  burn  incense  acceptably,  cannot  be  permitted  even  to 
 offer  my  own  sacrifice.  But  I  have  a  high  priest,  appointed 
 and  consecrated  by  God,  who  is  permitted  to  approach  him  on 
 my  behalf  He  carries  my  name,  or  the  name  of  my  tribe,  on 
 his  breast-plate.  He  offers  sacrifice  for  me;  he  burns  incense 
 for  me;  he  enters  the  most  holy  place,  and  sprinkles  atoning 
 blood  for  me.  In  him  I  am  accepted,  and  in  him  will  I  glory. 
 Take  away  my  high  priest,  and  you  take  away  my  all ;  but, 
 while  I  have  him,  while  he  is  accepted  in  my  behalf,  I  will  ex- 
 ult and  rejoice.'  And  with  how  much  more  reason  may  the 
 Christian  triumph  and  glory  in  his  Great  High  Priest,  and  re- 
 joice that  he  is  '  accepted  in  the  Beloved.'  I  do  not  mention 
 these  thoughts  as  any  thing  new,  out  as  thoughts  which  have 
 been  peculiarly  sweet  and  precious  to  me  of  late.  Yet,  alas  !  I 
 am  continually  seeking  to  be  my  own  high  priest,  to  find  some- 
 thing in  myself,  for  the  sake  of  which  I  may  be  accepted,  at 
 least  in  part.  How  happy  are  you,  my  dear  mother,  to  have 
 gotten  almost  through  this  wearisome,  terrible  conflict!  Your 
 •  trials  and  sufferings  are  almost  ended,  and  the  blessed  fruit  of 
 them  is  all  to  come." 
 
 These  extracts  furnish  specimens  of  his  zeal,  and  his  various 
 methods  of  exerting  himself  for  the  promotion  of  religion  at  dif- 
 ferent periods  of  his  ministry;  but  it  would  be  doing  him  great 
 i.ijusticc  to  leave  any  room  for  the  inference  that  the  intervals 
 between  these  dates  were  seasons  of  relaxation  or  indolence. 
 
EUWAKD    PAYSON.  259 
 
 \ 
 
 Such  seasons  he  never  allowed  himself.  His  labors  were  never 
 suspended,  unless  physical  debility  rendered  the  proseculion  of 
 them  impossible.  His  religion  was  not  intermittent.  With  him 
 time  was  a  precious  talent,  and  he  "  paid  no  moment  but  in 
 purchase  of  its  worth.  "  He  would  not  willingly  suffer  an  hour 
 to  pass  away  without  some  effort  for  the  recovery  of  lost  sinners. 
 Whatever  Avere  the  declension  of  those  around  him,  his  ardor 
 in  religion,  and  his  exertions  for  its  advancement,  suffered  no 
 visible  abatement.  On  the  contrary,  the  darkest  times  were 
 those  in  which  he  was  eminently  "jealous  for  the  Lord  of  hosts," 
 a  living  witness  to  the  power  of  divine  grace,  and  a  living  reproof 
 to  such  as  "had  gone  away  backward."  When  he  saw  his  fel- 
 low men  uidifferent  to  their  own  salvation  —  when  he  saw 
 •'reigning  crime  and  hastening  death"  — it  was  "a  spectacle 
 which  made"  his  heart  ache,  and  "his  eyes  weep."  He  ex,- 
 postulated,  he  warned,  he  entreated,  he  mourned  in  secret  places, 
 he  "ran  betvv^een  the  dead  and  the  living,"  and  earnestly  inter- 
 ceded with  God  to  interpose  for  their  salvation.  He  could  "not 
 lioid  his  peace,  nor  take  rest,"  when  Zion  was  in  affliction,  and 
 "none  coming  to  the  solemn  feast.  "  As  it  respects  the  progress 
 of  tlie  Redeemer's  cause,  he  seemed  always  to  glow  wicli  the 
 8pirit  and  feelings  which  most  are  accustomed  to  regard  as  a 
 jirivilege  peculiar  to  a  time  of  general  revival.  These  feelings 
 must  have  been  subject  to  some  inequalities  even  in  him;  but 
 they  seem  never  to  have  sunk  to  a  point  which  was  not  above 
 tiie  standard  of  attainment  with  ordinary  men  in  their  most 
 favored  seasons.  He  was,  indeed,  often  discouraged  with  respect 
 to  himself  and  his  own  personal  prospects;  but,  if  he  ever  suf- 
 fered any  declension  in  zeal  for  the  glory  of  God.  in  the  salvation 
 of  others,  it  was  of  such  temporary  duration  as  to  produce  no 
 perceptible  effect  on  his  use  of  means.  If  tliere  was  a  time, 
 during  his  whole  ministry,  when  he  was  not  ardently  desirous, 
 and,  to  the  extent  of  his  ability,  actively  laborious,  for  the  con- 
 version of  sinners,  the  fact  was  not  observable  by  his  people, 
 nor  even  by  his  most  intimate  friends. 
 
 He  loved  his  work :  when  not  exhausted  by  fatigue,  or  ae- 
 pressed  by  illness,  he  was  specially  fond  of  the  exercise  of 
 preaching— so  much  so,  that  he  considered  it  no  favor  for  a 
 way-faring  brother  to  offer  to  supply  his  place,  gratuitously,  on 
 a  Sabbath.    He  felt,  to  use  his  own  comparison,  about  as  much 
 
260 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 obliged  for  such  an  offer,  as  he  should  to  a  man  for  proposing  to 
 eat  up  a  good  dinner,  prepared  for  himself,  when  he  was  half 
 starved.  In  preparing  for  the  pulpit,  it  was  uniformly  his  object 
 to  introduce  so  much  of  the  grand  truths  of  the  gospel  into  every 
 discourse,  that  a  person  Avho  had  never  heard  a  sermon  before, 
 and  should  never  hear  another,  might  learn  from  it  what  was 
 essential  to  salvation.  While  his  sermons  generally  bore  this 
 uniform  feature,  they  were  endlessly  various  in  other  respects. 
 He  seldom  selected  a  text  without  reference  to  the  known  cir- 
 cumstances of  his  church  and  congregation;  and  so  wakeful 
 and  diligent  was  he,  "to  know  the  state  of  his  flock,"  that  he 
 scarcely  ever  failed  in  the  adaptation  of  his  subject.  So  dexter- 
 ously did  he  wield  the  SAvord  of  the  Spirit,  and  so  fully  and 
 accurately  discern  and  expose  "the  thoughts  and  intents  of  the 
 heart,"  that,  to  this  day,  there  are  those  who  believe  he  obtained 
 his  information  concerning  them  from  eaves-droppers  and  "old 
 women. " 
 
 But,  among  all  his  services  in  the  house  of  God,  none,  perhaps, 
 were  more  signally  blessed  than  his  exercises  at  the  communion 
 table.  Uniformly,  this  ordinance  was,  in  a  high  degree,  refresh- 
 ing to  liis  own  spirit.  Hither  he  delighted  to  come  and  quench 
 his  thirst  for  the  water  of  life.  Here  he  met  the  Saviour,  "-who 
 bore  our  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree,"  and  who,  "having 
 himself  suffered,  being  tempted,  knoweth  how  to  succor  them 
 that  arc  tempted."  For  him  the  crucified  Son  of  God  had  in- 
 comparable attractions.  He  saw  in  Christ  that  kind,  sympa- 
 thizing, all-powerful  High-Priest,  who  was  suited  to  the  wants 
 of  which  he  felt  so  deeply  conscious.  And  he  always  came  to 
 this  sacred  feast  with  a  soul  full  of  tenderness,  and  dwelt  on  the 
 love  of  a  suffering  Saviour  with  a  pathos  that  was  irresistible. 
 Here,  in  an  unrivalled  degree,  his  "heart  indited  good  matter, 
 and  his  tongue  was  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer."  "Jesus  Christ 
 was,  indeed,  set  forth  crucified  before  the  eyes"  of  the  admiring 
 commiuiicants.  His  person,  attributes,  and  offices,  as  the  Re- 
 deemer of  our  lost  race;  his  marvellous  compassion  in  dying  to 
 atone  for  our  sins;  his  intercession  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Father; 
 the  glories  and  terrors  of  his  second  coming,  —  were  so  distinctly 
 and  affectingly  exhibited,  as  to  excite  thecorresponding  emotions 
 in  all  hearts  which  were  not  harder  than  the  nether  mill-stone. 
 Those  who  could  sympathize  with  the  administrator,  while 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 261 
 
 contemplating  Christ  as  Mediator,  "by  whom  we  have  access  to 
 God,  and  redemption  through  his  blood,  even  the  forgiveness  of 
 our  sins,  according  to  tlie  riches  of  his  grace,"  felt  that,  in  sin- 
 ning against  Christ,  they  had  wounded  their  best,  tenderest, 
 almighty  Friend.  And  O  how  hateful  was  sin  made  to  appear! 
 how  loathsome!  how  heartily  was  it  renounced!  how  fervently 
 its  future  commission  deprecated !  and  then  the  renewed  and 
 unreserved  dedication  of  soul  and  body  to  God,  as  a  living,  holy, 
 acceptable,  and  reasonable  sacrifice !  "  How  sweet  and  awful 
 was  the  place,  "  while  sealing  their  vows,  and  Christ  iiis  pardons, 
 with  the  consecrated  symbols  of  his  body  and  blood!  How 
 precious  was  the  communion  of  saints  with  Jesus,  and  with  one 
 another! — To  hundreds  have  these  sacred  scenes  been  earnests 
 of  the  heavenly  inheritance.  And  the  interest  which  he  gave  to 
 the  occasion  by  his  spirituality,  his  knowledge  of  the  heart,  of 
 the  Saviour,  of  the  mysteries  of  redemption,  by  his  appropriate 
 and  impressive  appeals,  usually  detained  a  great  number  who 
 were  not  communicants.  The  spectators  were  as  numerous  as 
 the  guests;  and  what  they  heard  and  witnessed  was  not  unfre- 
 quently  the  means  of  conviction. 
 
 This,  too,  was  his  chosen  occasion  to  impress  on  baptizefl 
 youth  a  sense  of  their  obligations  to  devote  themselves  to  their 
 God  and  Redeemer ;  and  a  more  suitable  one  could  not  have 
 been  selected.  There  are  may  who  will  remember  it  with  ever- 
 lasting gratitude.  When  it  is  recollected  how  much  there  is  in 
 this  .scene  to  render  instructions  impressive  on  the  minds  of  this 
 class  of  youth,  might  not  ministers  generally  take  a  valuable 
 hint  from  his  practice? 
 
 The  church  fasts  and  conferences,  when  conducted  by  the  pas- 
 tor, were,  next  to  those  of  the  communion,  tlie  most  humble,  melt- 
 ing, edifying,  and  instructive  seasons  which  his  highly  favored 
 flock  enjoyed.  Here  he  employed  his  faith,  his  imagination,  and 
 the  various  resources  of  his  richly  furnished  mind,  to  show  them 
 their  actual  condition,  and  urge  them  forward  in  their  Christian 
 course.  So  distinctly  and  clearly  could  he  illustrate  the  differenl 
 degrees  of  Christian  attainment,  and  mark  the  different  shades 
 and  varieties  of  Christian  experience  in  all  its  gradations,  from 
 the  babe  to  the  perfect  man  in  Christ  Jesus,  that,  it  would  seem, 
 every  Christian  present  must  have  known  his  precise  rank.  A 
 specimen  of  his  manner,  as  near  as  can  be  recollected,  may  be 
 thus  stated:  — 
 
2G2 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "  Suppose  professors  of  religion  to  be  ranged  in  different  con- 
 centric circles  around  Christ,  as  their  common  centre.  Some 
 value  the  presence  of  their  Saviour  so  highly,  that  they  cannot 
 bear  to  be  at  any  remove  from  him.  Even  their  work  they 
 will  bring  xip,  and  do  it  in  the  light  of  his  countenance ;  and, 
 Avhile  engaged  in  it,  will  be  seen  constantly  raising  their  eyes 
 to  him,  as  if  fearful  of  losing  one  beam  of  his  light.  Others, 
 who,  to  be  sure,  would  not  be  content  to  live  out  of  his  pres- 
 ence, are  yet  less  wholly  absorbed  by  it  than  these,  and  may  be 
 seen  a  little  farther  off,  engaged  here  and  there  in  their  various 
 callings,  their  eyes  generally  upon  their  work,  but  often  looking 
 up  for  the  light  which  they  love.  A  third  class,  beyond  these, 
 but  yet  within  the  life-giving  rays,  includes  a  doubtful  multi- 
 tude, many  of  whom  are  so  much  engaged  in  their  worldly 
 schemes,  that  they  may  be  seen  standing  sideways  to  Christ, 
 looking  mostly  the  other  way,  and  only  now  and  then  turning 
 their  faces  towards  the  light.  And  yet  farther  out,  amongst  the 
 last  scattered  rays,  so  distant  that  it  is  often  doubtful  whether 
 they  come  at  all  within  their  influence,  is  a  mixed  assemblage 
 of  busy  ones,  some  with  their  backs  wholly  turned  upon  the 
 sun,  and  most  of  them  so  careful  and  troubled  about  their  many 
 tilings,  as  to  spare  but  little  time  for  their  Saviour. 
 
 "  The  reason  why  the  men  of  the  world  think  so  little  of 
 Christ,  is,  they  do  not  look  at  him.  Their  backs  being  turned 
 to  the  sun,  they  can  see  only  their  own  shadows;  and  are, 
 therefore,  wholly  taken  up  with  themselves.  While  the  true 
 disciple,  looking  only  upward,  sees  nothing  but  his  Saviour,  and 
 learns  to  forget  himself" 
 
 "  The  growth  of  grace  in  the  heart  may  be  compared  to  the 
 process  of  polishing  metals.  First,  you  have  a  dark,  opaque 
 substance,  neither  possessing  nor  reflecting  light.  Presently,  as 
 the  polisher  plies  his  work,  you  will  see  here  and  there  a  spark 
 darting  out ;  then  a  strong  light ;  till,  by  and  by,  it  sends  back 
 a  perfect  image  of  the  sun  which  shines  upon  it.  So  the  work 
 of  grace,  if  begun  in  our  hearts,  must  be  gradually  and  contin- 
 ually going  on ;  and  it  will  not  be  completed,  till  the  image  of 
 God  can  be  seen  perfectly  reflected  in  us." 
 
 At  a  church  fast,  in  the  time  of  revival,  he  mentioned,  as 
 
EDWARU  PAYSON. 
 
 263 
 
 dangers  to  be  guarded  against,  and  as  causes  of  the  suspension 
 of  divine  influences, — 
 
 1.  "  Christians,  ia  times  of  refreshing  from  the  presence  of  the 
 Lord,  are  apt  to  be  so  much  taken  up  in  conversing  and  laboring 
 Avith  sinners,  that,  from  concern  for  the  souls  of  otiiers,  they 
 neglect  their  own  spiritual  interests.  This  may  do  very  well 
 for  a  time,  but  in  the  end  will  be  productive  of  much  evil,  1  do 
 not  mean  to  dissuade  you  from  laboring  for  the  good  of  others, 
 but  to  warn  you  to  take  care  of  your  own  souls. 
 
 2.  "  Christians  are  in  danger,  when  a  revival  has  continued 
 for  some  time,  of  praying  less  for  its  continuance,  and  of  behig 
 less  thankful  for  it.  They  seem  to  take  it  for  granted,  that  it 
 will  go  on,  as  a  matter  of  course ;  their  prayers  grow  less  fre- 
 quent and  fervent,  and  their  gratitude  less  lively,  luitil,  at 
 length,  a  case  of  conversion,  which  would,  at  first,  have  electri- 
 fied the  whole  church,  produces  scarcely  any  sensation  at  all. 
 Now,  when  this  is  the  case,  a  revival  will  certainly  cease ;  for 
 God  never  continues  to  bestow  spiritual  favors  where  they  are 
 not  felt  to  be  such. 
 
 3.  "  Anodier  reason  why  revivals  do  not  continue  longer,  is, 
 that  there  is  so  much  animal  excitement  mixed  with  tliem.  It 
 is  a  law  of  our  nature,  that  the  duration  of  merely  animal 
 feelings  should  be  in  inverse  proportion  to  their  strength.  These 
 are  no  part  of  spirituality  and  holiness ;  for  the  more  lioly  we 
 are,  the  less  we  shall  have  of  them.  Our  Saviour  had  none  of 
 these  feelings.  Strive  to  repress  animal  feeling,  and  to  be  more 
 purely  spiritual." 
 
 "  We  read  that  Nadab  and  Abihu,  on  the  day  of  their  conse- 
 cration to  the  priesthood,  instead  of  taking  holy  fire,  with  which 
 to  burn  incense,  took  strange,  that  is,  common  fire,  and  were 
 punished  by  immediate  death  for  their  presumption.  To  us  this 
 may  appear  a  slight  offence.  We  may  think  one  fire  equally 
 good  with  another.  But  our  God  is  a  jealous  God,  and  we 
 must  make  our  offerings  in  the  manner  he  has  commanded,  and 
 with  a  right  spirit,  or  they  will  be  an  otfence  in  his  sight,  and 
 he  will  not  accept  them." 
 
 Mr.  Payson  was  never  more  happy  than  when  guiding  m- 
 
264 
 
 MEMOIK  OK 
 
 quirers  to  "  tlie  Lamb  of  God,  who  taketli  away  the  sins  of  the 
 world.''  Some  of  the  "  simihtudes,"  by  which  he  endeavored 
 to  ihiislrate  the  nature  of  experimental  rehgion,  and  assist  in- 
 quirers in  jndging  of  the  character  of  their  own  exercises,  have 
 been  preserved  in  the  memory  of  several  of  his  later  converts, 
 and  will  not  be  miwelcome  to  any  class  of  readers.  They  do 
 not  profess  to  be  reported  in  precisely  his  language,  and,  on  this 
 account,  due  allowance  must  be  made.  Much  of  then-  original 
 force  and  appositeness  is  doubtless  lost. 
 
 *'  Suppose  a  number  of  pcr.soiis  standing  by  a  river  s  side. 
 They  are  invited  to  drink  of  its  waters,  but  they  arc  not  thirsty, 
 and,  therefore,  do  not  desire  them.  At  length  their  thirst  is  ex- 
 cited, and  they  look  round  for  a  vessel,  with  which  to  take  up 
 some  water.  But  their  vessels  are  all  filled  with  some  worth- 
 less thing,  which  they  are  as  yet  unwilling  to  part  with.  But, 
 as  their  thirst  increases,  they  become  willing  to  relinquish  what 
 they  had  thought  of  so  much  value,  and,  finally,  emptying 
 their  vessels  of  this  rubbish,  and  receiving  the  water,  they 
 quench  their  thirst.  Thus  it  is  with  sinners  :  Jesus  Christ  in- 
 vites them  to  come  to  him,  the  Fountain  of  living  waters.  But 
 they  decline  his  invitations — their  hearts  being  filled  with  the 
 treasures  of  earth.  They  do  not  thirst  for  Christ  till  God 
 takes  away  the  love  of  this  world  and  its  vanities,  and  the 
 Holy  Spirit  fills  them  with  desire  to  come  to  him.  Then  they 
 hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness,  and  are  prepared  to  re- 
 ceive Christ." 
 
 "  Were  a  man  suddenly  precipitated  into  the  sea,  and,  after 
 making  inefiectual  struggles  to  save  himself,  to  give  up  all  for 
 lost  —  should  he  at  this  crisis  perceive  a  boat  approaching,  and 
 a  friendly  hand  extended  for  his  rescue,  he  would,  at  first, 
 scarcely  credit  his  senses,  or  realize  that  he  was  safe ;  his  joy 
 Avould  be  so  great,  and  his  gratitude  to  his  preserver  so  ardent. 
 But  after  the  first  transports  had  subsided,  he  would  feel  more 
 real  pleasure  in  contemplating  die  vessel,  in  admirnig  the  wis- 
 dom apparent  in  its  construction,  and.  its  admirable  adaptedness 
 for  saving  from  death  all  who  were  in  his  late  situation,  than  he 
 would  when  he  viewed  it  merely  as  the  means  of  saving  his  own 
 life.    So  the  sinner,  when  he  first  finds  himself  rescued  from 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 265 
 
 destruction,  is  full  of  love  to  Christ  for  his  peculiar  and  unmer- 
 ited mercy  to  himself.  But  as  lie  increases  in  knowledge  and 
 Christian  attainments,  has  clearer  views  of  the  character  of  God, 
 and  the  wisdom  and  grace  which  appear  in  the  plan  of  redemp- 
 tion, his  love  has  less  and  less  of  selfishness." 
 
 "  Suppose  two  persons  equally  desirous  to  gain  your  affections; 
 one  far  distant,  and  not  expecting  to  see  you  for  a  long  time; 
 the  other  always  present  with  you,  and  at  liberty  to  use  all 
 means  40  win  your  love,  able  to  flatter  and  gratify  you  in  a 
 thousand  ways.  Still  you  prefer  the  absent  one  ;  and,  that  you 
 may  keep  him  in  remembrance,  you  often  retire  by  yourself  to 
 think  of  his  love  to  you,  and  view  again  and  again  the  memen- 
 tos of  his  affection,  to  read  his  letters,  and  pour  out  your  heart 
 in  return.  Such  is  now  your  case;  the  world  is  always  before 
 you,  to  flatter,  promise,  and  please.  But  if  you  really  prefer  to 
 love  God,  you  will  fix  your  thoughts  on  him,  often  retire  for 
 meditation  and  prayer,  and  recount  the  pleasant  gifts  of  his 
 providence,  and  especially  his  infinite  mercy  to  your  soul ;  you 
 ■will  read  frequently  his  holy  Word,  which  is  the  letter  he  has 
 sent  you,  as  really  as  if  it  were  directed  to  you  by  name." 
 
 "  Religion  is  the  golden  chain  which  God  lets  down  from 
 heaven,  with  a  link  for  eA^ery  person  in  this  room,  inviting  each 
 to  take  hold,  that  you  may  be  drawn  by  it  to  himself  You 
 can  readily  perceive  how  disagreeable  it  would  be  to  be  linked 
 to  one  whom  you  disliked,  and  drawn  by  him  whithersoever  he 
 wills;  but  you  would  gladly  be  drawn  and  guided  in  every 
 thing  by  the  person  whom  you  ardently  loved.  There  is  this 
 difference  between  the  Christian  ajid  the  sinner.  However  re- 
 luctant and  full  of  hatred,  still  the  sinner  is  controlled  by  God ; 
 the  Christian  is  equally  in  his  hands,  but  is  drawn  by  the  cords 
 of  love." 
 
 "  Christ  said  to  Mary,  Fear  not ;  I  know  that  you  seek  Jesus. 
 If  ye  really  seek  Jesus,  he  says  the  same  to  you.  Fear  not  — 
 death,  sorrow,  sickness,  any  thing.  If  they  are  thus  blessed, 
 who  seek  Jesus,  what  must  those  be,  who  have  found  him?" 
 
 To  an  inquirer,  who  complained  that  the  difficulties  in  his 
 VOL.  I.  34 
 
266 
 
 MEMOIK  OF 
 
 way  increased  rather  than  diminished,  he  said — "  You  might 
 bind  a  bird  with  a  soft,  silken  cord,  and,  while  he  remains  still, 
 he  will  not  be  sensible  of  his  confinement ;  but  as  soon  as  he 
 attempts  to  fly,  he  will  feel  the  cord  that  confines  him ;  and 
 the  greater  his  desire  and  his  efforts  to  escape,  the  more  sensible 
 will  he  be  of  his  bondage.  So  the  sinner  may  long  be  a 
 slave  to  his  sins,  and  never  be  aware  of  it,  till  he  rises  to  go  to 
 Christ." 
 
 "  Every  person  has  some  object  which  he  loves  supremely; 
 and  in  every  unrenewed  man,  that  object  is  self.  Suppose,  for 
 illustration,  that  you  have  an  image,  which  is,  in  reality,  ex- 
 tremely ugly,  but  which  you  think  beautiful,  and  you  spend  all 
 your  time  in  polishing  and  adorning  it.  At  length,  however, 
 you  begin  to  see  something  of  its  deformity,  but  endeavor  to 
 conceal  it  from  others,  and,  if  possible,  from  yourself,  by  paint- 
 ing and  dressing  it.  Notwithstanding  all  your  efforts,  it  grows 
 more  and  more  ugly,  till  at  last,  in  despair  of  amending  it  your- 
 self, you  pray  that  God  would  make  it  more  lovely.  It  is  evi- 
 dent iu  this  case,  that  your  prayers  would  not  proceed  from  love 
 to  God,  but  liom  love  to  your  idol;  and,  therefore,  there  would 
 be  no  goodness  in  them.  Suppose  that,  daring  all  this  time,  a 
 person  was  entreating  you  to  look  at  a  beautiful  diamond  statue, 
 which  you  refused  to  do  ;  until,  wearied  with  useless  efibrts  to 
 make  your  image  appear  more  beautiful,  you  turn  and  look  at  the 
 statue.  Immediately  you  see  your  idol  in  all  its  native  deform- 
 ity ;  you  cast  aside,  and  begin  to  admire  and  extol  the  statue. 
 This  idol  represents  self,  and  every  unrenewed  person  admires 
 and  loves  it^supreniely.  When  his  conscience  is  awakened  to 
 see  something  of  his  sinfulness,  he  first  endeavors  to  make  him- 
 self better  :  and  it  is  long  before  he  finds  that  he  cannot  change 
 his  own  heart.  When  he  finds  that,  notwithstanding  all  his  en- 
 deavors, liis  heart  seems  to  grow  worse  and  worse,  he  prays  to 
 God  for  help.  It  is  not  from  love  to  God,  or  because  God  has 
 commanded  it,  that  he  prays;  but  because  he  is  unwilling  to 
 see  himself  so  sinful ;  so  that  his  prayers  arise  merely  from 
 pride  and  selfishness.  But  if  he  will  only  turn  and  look  to 
 Christ,  he  sees  his  sins  in  a  new  light,  and  no  longer  loves  him- 
 self supremely;  all  his  affections  are  transferred  to  Christ.  He 
 then  prays  to  be  made  better,  not  to  gratify  his  pride,  but  be- 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 267 
 
 cause  he  see  something  of  the  beauty  of  holiness,  and  longs  to 
 resemble  his  divine  Master." 
 
 "  Suppose  one  man  owes  another  a  thousand  pounds,  but  he 
 is  unable  to  pay  the  debt,  and  denies  that  he  owes  it.  His 
 creditor,  being  a  very  compassionate  man,  says  to  him,  '  I  do 
 not  wish  for  your  money,  and  as  soon  as  you  will  own  the  debt 
 to  be  a  just  one,  I  will  release  you  from  your  obligation  ;  but  I 
 cannot  do  it  before,  for  that  woidd  be  in  fact  acknowledging  that 
 I  am  in  the  wrong.'  The  poor  man  refuses  to  confess  that  he 
 owes  the  money,  and  is,  in  consequence,  sent  to  prison.  After 
 remaining  there  for  a  time,  he  sends  his  creditor  word  that  he 
 will  allow  he  owes  him  a  hundred  pounds.  But  that  will  not 
 do.  After  another  interval,  he  says  he  will  allow  that  he  owes 
 two  hundred  pounds;  and  thus  he  keeps  gradually  giving  up  a 
 little  more,  until  he  gets  to  nine  hundred ;  there  he  stops  a  long 
 while.  At  length,  finding  there  is  no  other  way  of  escape,  he 
 acknowledges  the  whole  debt,  and  is  released.  Still  it  v/ould 
 be  free,  unmerited  kindness  in  the  creditor,  and  the  poor  man 
 would  have  no  right  to  say,  '  I  partly  deserved  it,  because  I 
 owned  the  debt ;'  for  he  ought  to  have  done  that,  whether  he 
 was  liberated  or  not.  Just  in  this  manner  we  have  treated  God. 
 When  he  comes  and  charges  us  with  having  broken  his  law, 
 we  deny  it;  we  will  allow,  perhaps,  that  we  deserve  a  slight 
 punishment,  but  not  all  which  God  has  threatened.  But  if  we 
 are  ever  to  be  saved,  God  comes,  and,  as  it  were,  shuts  us  up  in 
 prison ;  that  is,  he  awakens  our  consciences,  and  sends  his 
 Spirit  to  convince  us  of  sin.  Thus  we  every  day  see  more  and 
 more  of  the  desperate  wickedness  of  our  hearts,  until  we  are 
 ready  to  allow  that  we  have  deserved  eternal  condemnation. 
 As  soon  as  we  acknowledge  this,  God  is  ready  to  pardon  us ; 
 but  it  is  evident  that  we  do  not  deserve  pardon,  that  he  is  not 
 under  the  least  obligation  to  bestow  it,  and  that  all,  who  are 
 saved,  are  saved  through  free,  unmerited  grace." 
 
 "  One  excuse  which  awakened  sinners  are  accustomed  to 
 allege  in  their  own  defence,  is,  that  they  wish  to  love  God,  and 
 to  have  new  hearts,  but  cannot.  They  do  indeed  wish  to  be 
 saved,  but  they  are  not  willing  to  be  saved  in  God's  way  ;  that 
 is,  they  are  not  willing  to  accept  salvation  as  a  free  gift.  They 
 
268 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 would  do  any  thing  to  buy  it,  but  will  not  take  it  without 
 money  and  without  price.  Suppose  that  you  were  very  sick, 
 and  were  told  by  the  physician,  that  there  Avas  but  one  medi- 
 cine in  the  world  wliich  could  save  your  life,  and  that  this  was 
 exceedingly  precious.  You  were  also  told  that  there  was  but 
 one  person  in  tlie  world  who  had  any  of  this  in  his  possession; 
 and  that,  although  he  was  willing  to  give  it  to  those  who  asked, 
 he  would,  on  no  account,  sell  any.  Suppose  this  person  to  be 
 one  whom  you  had  treated  with  great  neglect  and  contempt,  in- 
 jured in  every  possible  way.  How  exceedingly  unwilling 
 would  you  be  to  send  to  him  for  the  medicine  as  a  gift !  You 
 would  rather  purchase  it  at  the  expense  of  your  whole  fortune. 
 You  would  defer  sending  as  long  as  possible,  and,  wheii  you 
 found  that  you  were  daily  growing  worse,  and  nothing  else 
 could  save  you,  you  would  be  obliged,  however  reluctantly,  to 
 send  and  ask  for  some.  Just  so  unwilling  are  sinners  to  apply 
 to  God  for  salvation,  as  a  free  gift ;  and  they  will  not  do  it  imtil 
 they  find  themselves  perishing,  and  that  there  is  no  other  hope 
 for  them." 
 
 "  Tli£  young  convert,  in  judging  of  tlie  reality  of  his  conver- 
 sion, generally  lays  much  stress  upon  having  a  great  deal  of 
 joy  ;  and  regards  that  as  a  very  decisive  proof  that  he  is  a  disci- 
 ple of  Christ.  But  this  is  one  of  the  most  fallacious  proofs,  and 
 no  dependence  ought  to  be  placed  on  it.  It  is  not  desirable,  at  ' 
 first,  to  have  full  assurance  of  our  salvation,  for  our  love  is  then 
 v/eak  ;  and  some  degree  of  fear  is  likewise  necessary  to  keep  us 
 near  to  Christ." 
 
 "  Suppose  a  child  accidentally  falls  into  a  pit,  and  when  some 
 person  comes  to  help  him  out,  instead  of  thankfully  accepting 
 the  offer,  he  says,  '  i\o  ;  1  will  not  have  you  to  help  me  out ; 
 I  wish  some  one  else  to  assist  me.'  He  is  told  by  his  father, 
 that  he  shall  not  be  assisted  by  any  other  person.  Yet  he  still 
 prefers  remaining  in  the  pit  to  accepting  that  person's  offer. 
 Does  it  not  indicate  strong  aversion  to  him  1  Yet  it  is  precisely 
 thus  that  the  sinner  treats  Christ.  He  is  exposed  to  danger, 
 from  which  none  but  Christ  can  deliver  him.  Yet,  rather  than 
 accept  his  assistance,  he  tries  every  other  method  again  and 
 again  ;  and  when  he  finds  all  his  efforts  unsuccessful,  he  prac- 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 269 
 
 tically  says,  '  I  had  rather  perish  than  be  saved  by  Christ.' 
 How  justly  might  the  Saviour  take  him  at  his  word,  and  leave 
 him  to  perish!" 
 
 "  The  manner  in  which  people  obtain  a  false  hope  is  generally 
 this  :  they  first  believe  that  God  is  reconciled  to  them,  and  then 
 are  reconciled  to  him  on  that  account ;  but  if  they  thought  that 
 God  was  still  displeased  with,  and  determined  to  punish  them, 
 they  would  find  their  enmity  to  him  revive.  On  the  contrary, 
 the  Christian  is  reconciled  because  he  sees  the  holiness  of  the 
 law  which  he  has  broken,  and  God's  justice  in  punishing  him; 
 he  takes  part  with  God  against  himself,  cordially  submits  to 
 him,  and  this  when  he  expects  condemnation.  He  is  reconciled, 
 because  he  is  pleased  with  the  character  of  God ;  the  false  con- 
 vert, because  he  hopes  God  is  pleased  with  him." 
 
 "  It  is  morally  impossible  for  God  to  pardon  sinners  without 
 repentance.  The  moment  he  should  do  it,  he  would  cease  to  be 
 a  perfectly  holy  being ;  of  course,  all  the  songs  of  heaven  would 
 stop,  and  all  the  happiness  of  the  imiverse  be  dried  up.  In  his 
 conduct,  he  is  governed  by  a  regard  to  the  good  of  the  whole. 
 If  a  sovereign,  out  of  false  pity  to  criminals,  should  pardon  them 
 indiscriminately,  he  would  thus  destroy  the  happiness  of  all 
 his  faithful  subjects,  and  introduce  misery  and  confusion  into 
 his  kingdom.  But  infinitely  worse  consequences  would  ensue, 
 if  God  should  neglect  to  punish  those  who  transgress  his  law. 
 His  vast  dominions  would  become  one  universal  scene  of  anarchy 
 and  confusion  ;  happiness  would  be  banished  forever  ;  and 
 misery,  in  its  most  aggravated  forms,  would  prevail  throughout 
 the  universe.  Yet  all  this  the  sinner  would  think  ought  to  be 
 endured,  rather  than  that  he  should  be  obliged  to  repent  of 
 his  sins." 
 
 "  Young  converts  generally  suppose  that  it  is  their  strong 
 faith,  which  enables  them  to  go  to  God,  and  ask  to  be  forgiven, 
 without  much  fear  or  hesitation  ;  but  faith  has  less  to  do  with 
 it  than  they  imagine.  It  is  because  they  see  little  of  their  own 
 sinfulness  and  God's  hatred  of  sin.  If  they  had  clear  views  of 
 these  truths,  they  v/ould  find  their  weak  faith  very  insufficient 
 to  induce  them  to  go  to  Christ.    Suppose  a  man,  who  had  never 
 
270 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 seen  fire,  and  who  knew  its  effects  only  by  report,  should  be 
 told  that  at  a  certain  distant  period,  he  would  be  obliged  to  pass 
 through  a  fire.  He  is  told,  also,  that  there  is  but  one  kind  of 
 garment  that  can  protect  him  from  its  influence.  A  person  gives 
 liim  this  robe,  and  although  it  appears  to  him  very  thin  and 
 flimsy,  yet  he  feels  very  well  satisfied  with  it  before  he  has 
 seen  the  fire.  But  when  the  destined  time  arrives,  and  he  sees 
 the  fire  blazing  out  and  consuming  every  thing  within  its  reach, 
 his  confidence  fails.  At  first,  a  small  degree  of  faith  enables 
 the  Christian  to  go  to  God ;  but  as  he  advances  in  the  knowl- 
 edge of  his  own  heart,  and  God's  hatred  of  sin,  his  faith  must 
 also  be  increased,  to  enable  him  to  approach  his  heavenly 
 Father  with  confidence." 
 
 "  The  young  convert  may  be  compared  to  a  child,  whom  his 
 father  is  leading  over  a  rugged  and  uneven  path.  After  pro- 
 ceeding for  some  time  without  much  difliculty,  he  forgets  that  it 
 lias  been  owing  to  his  father's  assistance — begins  to  think  that 
 he  may  now  venture  to  walk  by  himself,  and  consequently  falls. 
 Humbled  and  dejected,  he  then  feels  his  own  weakness,  and 
 clings  to  his  father  for  support.  Soon,  however,  elated  with  his 
 progress,  he  again  forgets  the  kind  hand  which  sustains  him, 
 fancies  he  needs  no  more  assistance,  and  again  falls.  This  pro- 
 cess is  repeated  a  thousand  times  in  the  course  of  the  Christian's 
 experience,  till  he  learns,  at  length,  that  his  own  strength  is 
 perfect  weakness,  and  that  he  must  depend  solely  on  his 
 heavenly  Father." 
 
 "  To  assist  you  in  estimating  the  criminality  of  sin,  suppose 
 that  you  had  committed  the  first  sin  —  that,  before  you  were 
 born,  such  a  thing  had  never  been  heard  or  thought  of;  but 
 that  all  beings  had  united  in  loving  and  serving  God,  till,  all  at 
 once  you  started  up,  and  began  to  disobey  his  commands. 
 What  a  commotion  would  be  excited!  Instantly  the  news 
 would  spread  through  heaven  and  earth,  with  inconceivable 
 rapidity,  and  all  ranks  and  orders  of  beings  would  join  in  ex- 
 claiming, '  It  cannot  be !  Where  is  the  wretch,  who  would 
 dare  to  disobey  Jehovah  T  Suppose,  then,  that  you  were  oblig- 
 ed to  come  forward  and  stand  in  the  view  of  the  assembled 
 universe  of  myriads  of  sinless  beings,  who  all  regarded  you 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 271 
 
 with  feelings  of  astonishment,  horror,  detestation,  too  strong  for 
 utterance.  How  inexpressibly  dreadful  would  sin  appear  in  this 
 point  of  view  !  And  yet  it  is,  in  reality,  just  as  dreadful  and  as 
 criminal  to  sin  now.  as  if  no  sin  had  ever  been  committed  by 
 another." 
 
 "  The  difference  between  true  and  false  religion  may  be  thus 
 illustrated.  Suppose  a  king  visits  two  families  of  his  subjects. 
 The  members  of  one  think  it  great  condescension  in  him  to  vis- 
 it them  :  they  show  him  every  possible  mark  of  affection  and 
 respect,  and  they  are  filled  with  regret  and  unhappiness  at  his 
 departure.  The  other  family  have  no  real  love  for  him ,  and 
 though  selfTinterest  prompts  them  to  show  him  every  external 
 mark  of  respect,  yet  it  is  constrained,  and  they  are  glad  when 
 he  departs.  Now,  if  this  king  could  read  the  heart,  and  saw 
 that  their  services  were  insincere,  he  could  not,  of  course,  be 
 pleased ;  and  the  more  assiduous  they  were  in  their  attentions, 
 if  prompted  wholly  by  self-interest,  the  more  would  he  be  dis- 
 gusted. In  the  same  manner,  when  God,  by  his  Spirit,  visits  the 
 true  Christian,  it  fills  him  with  joy  and  gladness  ;  his  presence 
 is  life  ;  and  when  he  hides  his  face,  nothing  can  afford  pleasure 
 or  satisfaction.  But  when  thoughts  of  God  enter  the  mind  of 
 the  sinner,  he  feels  uneasy,  and  tries  to  get  rid  of  them.  He 
 may,  from  selfish  motives,  affect  to  seek  God ;  but  his  heart  is 
 not  in  it,  and  he  longs  after  the  pleasures  of  the  world.  This 
 is  the  way  in  which  all  awakened,  yet  impenitent  sinners  seek 
 God;  and  yet  they  are  displeased  because  he  will  not  accept 
 such  heartless  services." 
 
 "  We  are  apt  to  feel  as  if,  by  our  prayers,  we  laid  God  under 
 obligation  to  save  us ;  as  if  our  feeble,  imperfect  services  were 
 '  profitable  to  him.'  Suppose  a  poor  beggar  should  say  of  some 
 rich  nobleman,  '  He  is  under  great  obligations  to  me ;'  and, 
 when  asked,  '  Why  7' — should  answer,  'I  have  been  everyday, 
 for  a  great  many  years,  and  told  him  a  long  story  of  my  wants, 
 and  asked  him  to  help  me.'  You  can  see  how  absurd  this  ap- 
 pears ;  and  yet  it  is  precisely  similar  to  our  conduct,  except,  in- 
 deed, that  ours  is  much  more  absurd,  because  the  disparity 
 between  God  and  us  is  infinitely  greater  than  can  exist  between 
 any  two  mortals." 
 
272 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "When  sinners  have  been  awakened  to  see  their  guilt  and 
 danger,  and  are  invited  to  come  to  Christ  and  be  saved,  they 
 frequently  make  such  excuses  as  these  — '  I  cannot  believe  that 
 the  invitations  of  the  gospel  were  intended  for  such  sinners  as 
 I  am ;  1  am  afraid  I  do  not  feel  right,  and  that  Christ  will  not 
 receive  me.'  Suppose  a  table  set  in  the  street,  and  loaded  with 
 all  kinds  of  food  ;  and  that  a  herald  is  sent  to  make  proclama- 
 tion, that  all  who  wish  may  come  and  partake  freely.  A  poor 
 man  comes,  and  stands  looking  very  wishfully  at  the  table ; 
 and,  when  he  is  asked  why  he  does  not  eat,  replies  — '  O,  I  am 
 afraid  the  invitation  is  not  meant  for  me  ;  I  am  not  fit'  Again 
 he  is  assured  that  the  invitation  is  intended  for  all  those  who 
 are  hungry,  and  that  no  other  qualification  is  necessary.  Still 
 he  objects  —  'Cut  lam  afraid  lam  not  hungry  enough.'  In 
 the  same  way  do  sinners  deprive  themselves,  by  their  own  fol- 
 ly, of  those  blessings  which  are  freely  offered  them  by  their 
 Creator." 
 
 "Suppose  the  rebellious  subjects  of  a  very  wise  and  good 
 king  condemned  to  death.  The  king  has  a  son,  who,  from 
 compassion  to  these  poor  wretches,  offers  to  make  satisfaction  to 
 his  father  for  their  crimes,  if  he  will  pardon  them.  The  king 
 consents  on  one  condition.  He  places  his  son  at  the  door  of 
 his  palace,  and  makes  proclamation,  that  every  one  who  comes 
 to  him  for  pardon,  and  is  led  in  by  hie  son,  shall  be  forgiven  for 
 his  sake  One  of  the  culprits  comes,  and  rejecting  the  proffer- 
 ed hand  of  the  prince,  rushes  to  the  thionc  himself  Can 
 this  man  expect  mercy?  Thus  God  has  provided  a  Mediator, 
 and  commanded  all  to  approach  in  his  name ;  and  none  can 
 expect  to  be  received,  who  do  not  come  to  God  in  this  appoint- 
 ed way." 
 
 "  One  mark  of  a  true  convert  is,  that  he  continues  to  repent 
 of  his  sins,  after  he  hopes  that  they  are  pardoned.  All  that  the 
 hypocrite  desires,  is  salvation  from  punishment ;  and  when  he 
 thinks  this  end  secured,  he  feels  no  concern  respecting  his  sins. 
 But  the  true  Christian  desires  to  be  saved  from  sin ;  and  his 
 hatred  of  sin,  and  repentance  for  it,  increase  in  proportion  as 
 his  assurance  of  heaven  increases.  Another  mark  is,  that  all 
 disposition  to  make  excuses  is  taken  away.    The  repentant  sin- 
 
EDWAKD    PAYS  ON. 
 
 273 
 
 ner  feels  willing  to  lie  at  God's  feet,  and  confess  his  sins,  with- 
 out even  wishing  to  excuse  them." 
 
 "It  evinces  more  depravity  not  to  repent  of  a  sin,  than  it  does 
 to  commit  it  at  first.  A  good  man  may  be  hurried  away  by 
 temptation  to  commit  a  sin,  but  he  will  invariably  repent  of  it 
 afterwards.  To  deny,  as  Peter  did,  is  bad ;  but  not  to  weep 
 bitterly  as  he  did,  when  we  have  denied,  is  worse." 
 
 "  We  may  have  the  form  of  godliness  without  the  power ; 
 but  it  is  impossible  to  have  the.  power  without  the  form." 
 
 "  The  promises  in  the  Bible  to  prayer  are  not  made  to  one 
 act,  but  to  the  continued  habit,  of  prayer." 
 VOL.  I.  35 
 
CHAPTER  XV. 
 
 The  same  subject — Bible  class — Pastoral  visits — Social  parties — Special  and 
 casual  interviews — Charni  of  his  conversation — Singular  recounter — 
 Whence  his  competency — His  publications. 
 
 If  there  is  a  spectacle  on  earth  pecuHarly  animating  to  the 
 thoughtful  Christian,  who  waits  and  prays  for  the  salvation  of 
 God,  it  is  the  faithful,  affectionate  pastor,  with  the  Bible  in  his 
 hand,  surrounded  by  the  "  lambs  of  his  flock,"  and  leading 
 them  into  "  green  pastures,  and  beside  the  still  waters."  It 
 cannot  be  witnessed  without  a  thrill  of  unusual  delight,  and 
 anticipations  of  the  most  cheering  character.  There  may  be 
 more  of  immediate  personal  enjoyment  in  the  communion  of 
 saints,  and  in  that  foretaste  of  an  eternal  feast,  which  is  grant- 
 ed to  the  redeemed  of  the  Lord,  when,  gathered  around  the 
 sacramental  board,  they  glory  in  the  cross,  and  celebrate  the 
 love  of  Him  who  died  on  it,  and  their  faith  anticipates  the 
 hour  when  they  "  shall  see  Him  as  he  is,"  and  come  to  the 
 heavenly  Zion,  and  commence  their  everlasting  song.  But  the 
 same  principle,  which  causes  "joy  in  heaven  over  one  sinner 
 that  repcnteth,  more  than  over  ninety  and  nine  just  persons, 
 who  need  no  repentance,"  is  eminently  a  principle  of  benevo- 
 lence, which  is  gratified  with  every  prospect  of  increase  to  the 
 "  great  multitude  whom  no  man  can  number  ;"  and  it  is  called 
 into  action,  and  operates  with  no  ordinary  effect,  in  view  of  a 
 collection  of  youth,  grouped  around  their  beloved  spiritual 
 teacher,  engaged  in  investigating  the  truths  of  the  Bible,  and 
 ascertaining  the  duties  which  it  enjoins.  It  is  a  sight  full  of 
 hope  and  promise.  It  is  not  presumption  to  expect  from  it  the 
 choicest  spiritual  fruits  which  a  minister  is  ever  permitted  to 
 
MEMOIR     OF    EDWARD  PAYSQN. 
 
 275 
 
 reap.  It  is  among  this  class  of  his  charge,  that  he  may  emi- 
 nently "sow  in  hope."  The  promises  of  God  authorize  him  to 
 expect  extensive  and  glorious  results.  It  was  upon  the  youth 
 that  Mr.  Payson  expended  some  of  his  best  exertions;  and  these 
 labors  brought  him  a  "  harvest  of  golden  sheaves." 
 
 His  heart  was  drawn  towards  the  rising  generation,  and 
 meditated  various  expedients  for  advancing  their  welfare.  He 
 does  indeed,  record  and  lament,  among  his  deficiencies,  the 
 neglect  of  special  efforts  for  their  instruction  and  salvation. 
 But,  compared  with  what  had  been  the  ordinary  standard  of 
 ministerial  practice,  he  abounded  in  works  of  this  description. 
 Though,  from  the  first,  he  did  not  fail  to  give  them  appropriate 
 instruction,  yet  it  was  not  till  the  latter  years  of  his  ministry, 
 that  the  interesting  group,  who  periodically  gathered  around 
 him,  took  the  designation  of  "Bible  class  ;"  and  at  that  time  his 
 manner  underwent  a  slight  modification.  The  subjoined  speci- 
 mens were  furnished  by  young  persons,  to  whom  they  were 
 blessed :  — 
 
 "  A  way-faring  man  stops  at  a  tavern,  and  to  beguile  the 
 time  of  his  stay  there,  looks  round  for  some  book.  He  sees, 
 perhaps,  a  newspaper,  an  almanac,  and  the  Bible  ;  but  chooses 
 to  pore  over  either  of  the  former,  in  preference  to  the  Word 
 of  God,  — thinking  it  hardly  possible  to  be  amused  or  interest- 
 ed in  that.  Even  a  Christian  will  sometimes  do  thus. — This 
 is  as  if  a  man  should  be  introduced  into  an  apartment,  in  one 
 division  of  which  were  Jesus  Christ  and  the  apostles,  and  in 
 the  other  the  most  dissolute  and  frivolous  company ;  and  on 
 being  invited  by  the  Saviour  to  sit  with  them  and  enjoy  their 
 company,  should  refuse,  and  seat  himself  with  the  others. 
 Would  not  this  be  a  most  gross  insult  to  the  Saviour  1  and  do 
 you  not  equally  undervalue  and  refuse  his  company,  when  you 
 thus  neglect  and  despise  his  holy  Word, — through  which  he 
 converses  with  you,  and  invites  you  near  to  himself, — and 
 choose  some  foolish  production  instead  of  it?" 
 
 "God  holds  out  to  you,  as  it  were,  a  thread,  no  stronger  than 
 a  spider's  web,  and  says — 'take  hold  of  the  thread;  I  will  iri- 
 crease  its  strength,  day  by  day,  until  it  becomes  the  line  of  sal- 
 vation to  you.'    So  it  is  with  the  little  interest  you  feel  in  the 
 
276 
 
 M  E  Bl  0  I  R  OF 
 
 Bible  class.  If  you  cherish  this,  if  you  reflect  upon  what  you 
 read  and  hear,  and  daily  pray  to  be  made  wise  by  these  instruc- 
 tions, God  will  increase  your  interest toitsconsummation, till  you 
 become  perfect  ones  in  Christ  Jesus.  But  if  you  lose  your  hold 
 on  this  thread,  you  are  lost." 
 
 The  following  paragraph  illustrates  his  manner  of  stating  the 
 argument,  and  its  application — the  subject  before  the  class  being 
 the  evidence  from  the  light  of  nature,  that  there  ■   .  ,^a: — 
 
 "  Suppose,  my  young  friends,  that,  in  travelling  through  a 
 wilderness,  a  spacious  garden  should  burst  upon  your  view,  m 
 the  midst  of  which  is  a  splendid  palace.  Upon  entering  it,  you 
 perceive,  in  every  apartment,  proofs  of  the  agency  of  some 
 living  person,  though  you  see  no  one.  Complicated  machinery 
 is  moving,  and  various  operations  are  carried  on;  but  still  the 
 agent,  who  produces  these  elfects,  is  invisible.  Would  you  be 
 the  less  convinced  that  they  were  produced  by  some  intelligent 
 agent?  And  if  you  should  be  told,  that  the  palace  came  there 
 by  chance,  and  that  all  the  movements  you  witnessed  were 
 caused  by  no  power  whatever,  you  would  regard  him,  who 
 should  tell  you  thus,  either  as  a  fool  or  a  liar.  Now,  you  have 
 the  same  proof  of  the  existence  of  God  in  his  works,  that  you 
 would  have,  in  the  case  I  have  supposed,  of  the  existence  and 
 presence  of  some  invisible  agent;  and  it  is  just  as  unreasonable 
 to  doubt  of  his  existence,  as  it  would  be  to  doubt  whether  thp 
 palace  had  been  built  by  any  person,  or  was  only  the  work  of 
 chance.  Suppose  you  were  informed  by  a  writing  on  the  wall, 
 that  the  palace  was  inhabited  or  haunted  by  spirits,  who  were 
 constantly  watching  your  conduct,  and  who  had  power  to  punish 
 you,  if  it  displeased  them ;  and  that  you  were  also  informed,  at 
 the  same  time,  of  the  course  of  conduct  which  it  Avould  be  nec- 
 essary to  pursue,  in  order  to  obtain  their  approbation.  How 
 careful  would  you  be  to  observe  the  rules  and  how  fearful  of 
 displeasing  those  powerful  spirits  !  And  if  you  were  further 
 informed,  that  these  were  the  spirits  of  your  deceased  parents, 
 and  that  they  were  able  to  hear,  if  you  addressed  them,  —  how 
 delightful  it  would  be  to  go  and  tell  them  of  your  wants  and 
 sorrows,  and  feel  sure  that  they  listened  to  you  with  sympathy 
 and  compassion  !— I  tell  you,  my  young  friends,  this  world  is 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 277 
 
 Haunted,  if  I  may  so  express  it,  —  haunledbythe  Eternal  Spirit. 
 He  iias  given  you  rules,  by  which  to  regulate  your  conduct,  and 
 is  able'to  punish  every  deviation  from  them.  And  can  you  rec- 
 ollect that  such  a  Being  is  constantly  noticing  your  conduct, 
 and  still  persist  in  disobeying  his  commands?  God  is  also  your 
 Heavenly  Father ;  and  why  can  you  not  go  to  him,  as  such, 
 with  the  same  confidence  which  you  wonld  exercise  in  an  earthly 
 parent?" 
 
 In  explanation  of  the  command  to  glorify  God: — "It  may 
 seem  strange  and  presumptuous,  to  speak  of  such  poor,  sinful, 
 worthless  beings  as  we  are,  as  glorifying,  or  as  capable  of  glori- 
 fying God.  But  the  perfect  Christian  may  be  compared  to  a 
 perfect  mirror,  which,  though  dark  and  opaque  of  itself,  being 
 placed  before  the  sun,  reflects  his  whole  image,  and  may  be 
 said  to  increase  his  glory,  by  increasing  and  scattering  his  light. 
 In  this  view  we  may  regard  heaven,  where  God  is  perfectly 
 glorified  in  his  saints,  as  the  firmament  studded  with  ten  thou- 
 sand times  ten  thousand,  and  thousands  of  thousands  of  mirrors, 
 every  one  of  them  reflecting  a  perfect  image  of  God,  the  Sun  in 
 ihe  centre,  and  filling  the  universe  with  the  blaze  of  his  glory." 
 
 "  Whenever  you  feel  any  thing  within  you,  my  dear  young 
 friends,  urging  you  to  attend  to  religion,  it  is  the  Spirit  of  God; 
 and  if  you  refuse  to  comply,  you  will  grieve  him  away.  Sup- 
 pose God  should  let  down  from  heaven  a  number  of  very  fine 
 cords,  and  if  any  person  should  take  hold  of  one,  it  would  con- 
 tinue to  grow  larger  and  stronger,  till  at  length  he  is  drawn  by 
 it  into  heaven.  Great  care  would  be  necessary,  especially  at 
 first,  not  to  break  it ;  for,  if  once  broken,  it  might  never  be  re- 
 newed. How  careful  should  we  expect  the  person  to  be,  to 
 whom  one  of  these  cords  was  extended,  not  to  break  it,  to  avoid 
 all  violence,  and  follow  wherever  it  led  him !  Just  so  anx' 
 iously  ought  you  to  cherish  those  good  impressions,  which  are 
 produced  on  your  minds  by  the  Spirit  of  God  ;  for  if  you  once 
 grieve  him,  he  may  never  return." 
 
 "Suppose  a  man  builds  a  temple,  with  one  seat  in  it  very 
 high  and  much  ornamented ;  and  another  very  far  below  it. 
 You  ask  him,  for  whom  those  seats  are  designed,  and  he  re- 
 
278 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 plies—  '  Why,  the  most  elevated  one  is  for  me,  and  the  one  be- 
 low it  is  for  God.'  Now  in  this  case,  you  can  all  see  the  horrible 
 absurdity  and  impiety  of  such  conduct;  and  yet  each  of  you, 
 who  continues  impenitent,  is  doing  this.  You  have  given  your- 
 selves the  first  place  in  your  affections ;  you  have  thought  more 
 of  yourselves  than  of  God,  and  have  done  more  to  please  your- 
 selves than  lo  please  God ;  in  short,  you  have,  in  every  thing, 
 preferred  yourselves  before  him." 
 
 Suppose  there  was  a  book,  in  which  the  whole  of  your  life 
 was  recorded,  each  page  of  which  contained  the  events  of  a 
 day.  At  the  beginning  was  written,  '  This  is  the  life  of  a  ra- 
 tional, immortal,  accountable  creature,  placed  in  this  world  to 
 prepare  for  eternity.'  Then  commences  a  long  catalogue  of 
 sins  ;  every  page  is  successively  covered  with  blots.  Besides  all 
 these,  there  are  the  sins  of  omission,  or  duties  neglected,  which 
 swell  to  a  still  greater  amount.  There  are  more  than  fifty  com- 
 mands binding  upon  you  every  moment ;  such  as,  to  repent,  to 
 believe,  to  love  Christ,  to  watch,  pray,  &c.,  none  of  which  you 
 perform.  Thus  you  commit,  to  say  the  least,  fifty  sins  in  a 
 moment.  Add  to  these  the  first  mentioned  class  of  transgres- 
 sions, and,  O,  what  an  amount  of  guilt  docs  the  record  of  each 
 day  present !  At  the  bottom  of  every  page,  it  is  written  —  Did 
 this  person  love  God  to-day  ?  No.  Did  he  feel  any  gratitude 
 for  mercies  7  No.  Did  he  obey  any  of  God's  commands  7 
 No.  Did  he  perform  any  part  of  the  work  for  which  he  was 
 created  ?  No." 
 
 One  of  his  most  acceptable  methods  of  communicating  in- 
 struction, and  exciting  a  religious  interest,  was  by  visits  to  the 
 families  of  his  parishioners  ;  and,  though  he  speaks  of  himself 
 as  living  extempore,  they  will  cheerfully  give  him  credit  for  sys- 
 tem in  this  branch  of  duty.  It  was  a  custom  which  he  com- 
 menced almost  simultaneously  with  his  ministry,  to  give  notice 
 from  the  pulpit,  that  the  families  in  a  particular  district,  or 
 street,  might  expect  him  at  a  given  time,  in  the  course  of  the 
 following  week,  and  to  request,  that,  if  consistent  with  their  en- 
 gagements, they  would  all  be  at  home ;  he  wished  to  see  the 
 family  together.  Accordingly,  when  he  entered  a  house,  he 
 usually  found  all  in  readiness  for  his  reception  and  could  pro- 
 
EDWARD    PAY  SON. 
 
 279 
 
 tjced,  v/ithout  the  loss  of  a  moment,  to  deliver  his  message.  The 
 time  he  spent  in  a  family  did  not  usually  exceed  twenty  or  thirty 
 minutes  ;  hut  it  was  completely  filled  up  with  religious  conver- 
 sation and  prayer.  He  could  say  much  in  a  short  time,  and 
 never  failed  to  "  divide  a  portion  to  every  member,"  capable  of 
 receiving  it.  His  "often  infirmities"  compelled  him  to  relin- 
 quish this  practice,  and,  for  some  years  before  his  death,  to  limit 
 his  visits  principally  to  houses  of  affliction.  But  these,  in  a 
 parish  comprising  thousatids  of  souls,  were,  necessarily,  very 
 numerous. 
 
 He  did  not  decline  occasional  invitations  to  evening  parties, 
 as  he  had  given  his  people  to  understand,  that  he  desired  none  to 
 send  for  him,  who  did  not  wish  him  to  come  as  a  minister  of 
 Christ.  In  this  character,  however,  he  was  usually  a  welcome 
 guest ;  for,  though  he  was  invariably  serious  and  faithful,  he 
 was  neither  abrupt  nor  forbidding  in  his  manner  of  bringing  for- 
 ward religious  topics.  The  divine  Model  he  had  so  diligently 
 studied,  taught  him  how  to  avail  himself  of  passing  observa- 
 tions and  occurrences  to  introduce  and  enforce  man's  obligation 
 to  attend  to  his  highest  interests.  He  always  seized  the  right  mo- 
 ment to  bring  forward  and  urge  his  Master's  claims ;  and  when 
 he  had  obtained  the  ground,  he  was  certain  not  to  yield  it — 
 indeed,  none  could  wish  to  dispossess  him.  The  subject  which 
 he  so  naturally  and  easily  introduced,  he  would  expatiate  upon, 
 and  illustrate,  and  hold  the  listening  company  in  fixed  and 
 solenm  attention,  from  one  to  three  hours.  Here  were  witnessed 
 some  of  the  most  enrapturing  and  powerful  strains  of  his  sacred 
 eloquence.  A  visiting  party,  whose  conversation  was  conducted 
 by  him,  had  all  the  advantage  of  a  religious  meeting  in  the  ar- 
 ticle of  instruction,  and  fell  scarcely  short  in  solemnity.  To 
 him  it  was  often  as  laborious  as  a  public  lecture,  as  it  regards 
 both  preparation  and  the  exercise  of  speaking.  He  usually 
 commenced  and  closed  the  interview  by  prayer. 
 
 It  is  obvious  how  much  such  a  manner  of  conducting  social 
 visits  must  tend  to  cultivate  and  cherish  a  religious  spirit  in 
 society.  Every  one  has  observed,  that,  as  they  are  often  con- 
 ducted, a  single  visit  supplies  matter  for  a  month's  gossip  and 
 scandal  —  evils  which  infect  not  only  the  individuals  who  were 
 present,  but  their  families  and  associates.  But  social  inter- 
 course, conducted  on  Christian  principles,  precludes  these  and 
 
280 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 similar  evils,  besides  effecting  positive  good.  The  party  sepa- 
 rate with  salutary  impressions  upon  their  minds,  and  carry 
 more  or  less  of  a  holy  savor  into  their  respective  families.  Reli- 
 gion becomes  the  subject  of  domestic  conversation,  which  is  ren- 
 dered more  intelligent  and  profitable  by  the  very  means  which 
 too  frequently  operate  as  a  disqualification  for  the  duty.  In 
 truth,  no  finite  mind  can  trace  all  the  happy  consequences 
 which  flow  from  the  habit  of  associating  religion  with  all  the 
 intercourse  and  occurrences  of  life. 
 
 That  it  was  a  leading  object  Avith  him  to  introduce  and  ex- 
 tend this  habit  among  his  people,  appears  from  almost  every  act 
 of  his  ofiicial  life.  It  accounts,  in  part,  for  his  rema'rkable  cir- 
 cumspection, and  unfailing  care,  to  set  an  example,  in  his  own 
 person,  of  doing  all  things  to  the  glory  of  God.  It  was  not 
 without  reference  to  this,  probably,  that  he  dedicated  his  own 
 private  dwelling  to  God ;  or  rather,  that,  when  he  did  this,  he 
 called  in  some  of  his  neighbors  to  participate  in  the  solemnities ; 
 and  it  was  not  without  its  influence.  He  was  called,  in  his 
 turn,  to  officiate  on  similar  occasions  for  them.  A  scene  of  this 
 kind  is  still  recollected  with  lively  interest  by  the  members  of  a 
 numerous  family.  In  his  prayer,  he  anticipated  almost  every 
 possible  circumstance  in  their  future  history  with  that  reverent 
 particularity,  in  which  he  was,  perhaps,  unrivalled  ;  and  in  such 
 select,  appropriate,  and  vivid  expressions,  as  gave  the  very 
 walls  of  the  habitation  a  tongue  that  has  not  since  ceased  to 
 speak.  The  thought,  that  it  is  a  consecrated  house,  is  suited  to 
 check  all  tendencies  to  sinful  levity.  One  of  the  events  antici- 
 pated in  the  prayer  has  already  taken  place ;  and  the  children 
 of  the  family,  who  now  are  all  members  of  the  visible  church, 
 could  tell  with  what  comforting  and  sustaining  power  it  was 
 brought  home  to  their  hearts,  while  surrounding  the  triumphant 
 death-bed  of  an  invaluable  mother. 
 
 From  the  most  casual  interview  with  him,  the  Christian 
 could  not  separate  without  being  instructed,  humbled,  and  re- 
 vived ;  nor  the  impenitent  sinner,  without  a  topic  for  reflec- 
 tion—  perhaps  an  arrow  in  his  heart.  He  exemplified  one  of 
 his  own  remarks  —  "Our  unconverted  friends  should  feel  that 
 our  whole  deportment,  and  even  our  very  silence,  declares  that 
 we  earnestly  seek  their  salvation." 
 
 A  circumstance  which  gave  to  his  company  one  of  its  most 
 
EDWAKD  PAYSON. 
 
 281 
 
 attractive  charms,  was  his  great  condescension  and  affability, 
 which  entirely  relieved  the  interlocutors  of  all  embarrassment. 
 No  matter  how  awkwardly  or  defectively  they  expressed  their 
 difficulties,  or  proposed  their  queries — it  was  enough  for  him  that 
 he  knew  their  meaning.  He  took  no  advantage  of  these  defects, 
 to  mortify  them  and  show  off  his  own  superiority ;  he  never 
 asked  them  to  repeat  and  "  define  precisely  what  they  wanted," 
 — a  chilling  practice  with  some  affectedly  wise  and  accurate 
 men,  which  must  effectually  silence  the  weak  and  illiterate,  and 
 cut  off  from  them  all  hope  of  improvement : — he  took  this  labor 
 upon  himself  If  he  perceived  them  in  danger  of  embarrass- 
 ment, he  would  interpose  and  help  them  out.  The  most  broken 
 and  imperfect  expressions  were  sufficient  to  indicate  to  him  the 
 exact  wants  and  feelings  of  the  speaker.  So  truly  Avas  this  the 
 case,  that  his  knowledge  of  others'  thoughts  would  appear  to  a 
 witness  almost  intuitive  ;  and  he  was  equally  prompt  to  apply 
 the  appropriate  counsel.  It  was  from  ignorance  of  his  power  of 
 perception,  in  this  respect,  that  some  have  spoken  of  his  inquiry 
 meetings,  during  the  latter  half  of  his  ministry,  as  more  properly 
 entitled  to  the  appellations  of  lectures,  or  meetings  for  exhorta- 
 tion. But  his  remarks  were  as  really  predicated  on  the  known 
 states  of  mind  in  the  assembly,  as  they  ever  are  in  any  inquiry 
 meeting,  however  conducted.  The  truth  is,  besides  watching 
 the  individual  characters  of  his  charge  for  years,  he  had  so 
 thoroughly  studied  the  moral  and  spiritual  nature  of  man,  in 
 connexion  with  the  Scriptures,  that  he  could  distinguish  the 
 symptoms  which  indicate  the  state  of  the  heart,  with  as  much 
 readiness  and  certainty,  as  the  most  skilful  physician  can  those 
 of  bodily  disease. 
 
 It  was  not  to  man  in  one  attitude  or  situation  only,  that  he 
 could  adapt  himself,  but  to  men  in  all  situations,  and  of  every 
 variety  of  rank  and  character,  and  every  degree  of  intellectual 
 culture.  A  bereaved  husband,  in  another  town,  to  whom  he 
 was  known  only  by  report,  but  whose  wife's  obsequies  he  provi- 
 dentially attended,  inquired,  some  time  after  the  funeral,  if  Mr. 
 Payson  had  married  a  second  wife, — inferring,  from  his  prayer, 
 that  he  knew,  experimentally,  the  feelings  inseparable  from  a 
 state  of  widowhood. 
 
 The  following  imperfectly  described  rencounter  with  a  lawyer 
 Qf  Portland,  who  ranked  among  the  first  in  the  place  for  wealth, 
 VOL.  I.  30 
 
282 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 and  was  very  fluent  withal,  will  serve  to  show  Mr.  Payson's 
 insight  into  character,  and  his  power  to  mould  it  to  what  form  he 
 pleased,  and,  at  the  same  time,  prove,  what  might  be  confirmed 
 by  many  other  instances,  that  his  conquests  were  not  confined 
 to  "  weak  women  and  children  :" — 
 
 A  lady,  who  was  the  common  friend  of  Mrs.  Payson  and  the 
 lawyer's  wife,  was  sojourning  in  the  family  of  the  latter.  After 
 the  females  of  the  respective  families  had  interchanged  several 
 
 "  calls,"  Mrs.  was  desirous  of  receiving  a  formal  visit 
 
 from  Mrs.  Payson ;  but,  to  effect  this,  Mr.  Payson  must  also  be 
 invited  ;  and  how  to  prevail  with  her  husband  to  tender  an 
 invitation,  was  the  great  difficulty.  He  had  been  accustomed 
 to  associate  experimental  religion  with  meanness,  and,  of  course, 
 felt  or  affected  great  contempt  for  Mr.  Payson,  as  if  it  were 
 impossible  for  a  man  of  his  religion  to  be  also  a  man  of  talents. 
 He  knew,  by  report,  something  of  Mr.  Payson's  practice  on  such 
 occasions,  and,  dreading  to  have  his  house  the  scene  of  what 
 appeared  to  him  a  gloomy  interview,  resisted  his  wife's  proposal 
 as  long  as  he  could  and  retain  the  character  of  a  gentleman. 
 When  he  gave  his  consent,  it  was  with  the  positive  determina- 
 tion that  Mr.  Payson  should  not  converse  on  religion,  nor  ask  a 
 blessing  over  his  food,  nor  ofler  a  prayer  in  his  house.  He  col- 
 lected his  forces,  and  made  his  preparation,  in  conformity  with 
 this  purpose,  and,  when  the  appointed  day  arrived,  received  his 
 guests  very  pleasantly,  and  entered,  at  once,  into  animated  con- 
 versation, determined,  by  obtruding  his  own  favorite  topics,  to 
 forestall  the  divine.  It  was  not  long  before  the  latter  discovered 
 his  object,  and  summoned  together  his  powers  to  defeat  it.  He 
 plied  them  with  that  skill  and  address  for  which  he  was 
 remarkable  ;  still,  for  some  time,  victory  inclined  to  neither  side, 
 or  to  both  alternately. — The  lawyer,  not  long  before,  had  return- 
 ed from  Washington  city,  where  he  had  spent  several  weeks  on 
 business  at  the  supreme  court  of  the  United  States.  Mr.  Payson 
 instituted  some  inquiries  respecting  sundry  personages  there, 
 and,  among  others,  the  chaplain  of  the  house  of  representatives. 
 The  counsellor  had  heard  him  perform  the  devotional  services 
 in  that  assembly.  "  How  did  you  like  him?" — "  Not  at  all ;  he 
 appeared  to  have  more  regard  to  those  around  him  than  he  did 
 to  his'Maker." — Mr.  Payson  was  very  happy  to  see  him  recog- 
 nize the  distinction  between  praying  to  God,  and  praying  to  be 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 283 
 
 heard  of  men,  and  let  fall  a  series  of  weighty  observations  on 
 prayer,  passing  into  a  strain  of  remark,  which,  Avithout  taking 
 the  form,  had  all  the  effect,  on  the  lawyer's  conscience,  of  a 
 personal  application.  From  a  topic  so  unwelcome,  he  strove  to 
 divert  the  conversation,  and,  every  few  minutes,  would  start 
 something  as  wide  from  it  as  the  east  is  from  the  west.  But,  as 
 often  as  he  wandered,  his  guest  would  dexterously,  and  without 
 violence,  bring  him  back  ;  and,  as  often  as  he  was  brought  back, 
 he  would  wander  again.  At  length  the  trying  moment  which 
 was  to  turn  the  scale  arrived.  The  time  for  the  evening  repast 
 had  come  ;  a  servant  had  entered  with  the  tea  and  its  accom- 
 paniments ;  the  master  of  the  feast  became  unusually  eloquent, 
 resolved  to  engross  the  conversation,  to  hear  no  question  or 
 reply,  to  allow  no  interval  for  "  grace,"  and  to  give  no  indication 
 by  the  eye,  the  hand,  or  the  lips,  that  he  expected  or  wished  for 
 such  a  service.  Just  as  the  distribution  was  on  the  very  point 
 of  commencing,  Mr.  Paysnn  interposed  the  question — "  What 
 writer  has  said  the  devil  invented  the  fashion  of  carrying  round 
 tea,  to  prevent  a  blessing  being  asked Our  host  felt  himself 
 "cornered;"  but,  making  a  virtue  of  necessity,  promptly  repli- 
 ed— "  I  don't  know  what  writer  it  is ;  but,  if  you  please,  we 
 will  foil  the  devil  this  time; — Will  you  ask  a  blessing,  sir'.'"  —  A 
 blessing,  of  course,  Avas  asked,  and  he  brooked,  as  well  as  he 
 could,  this  first  certain  defeat,  still  resolved  not  to  sustain 
 another  by  the  offering  of  thanks  on  closing  the  repast.  But  in 
 this,  too,  he  was  disappointed.  By  some  well-timed  sentiment 
 of  his  reverend  guest,  he  was  brought  into  such  a  dilemma, 
 that  he  could  not,  without  absolute  rudeness,  decline  asking  him 
 to  return  thanks.  And  thus  he  contested  every  inch  of  his 
 ground,  till  the  visit  terminated.  But,  at  every  stage,  the  min- 
 ister proved  too  much  for  the  lawyer.  He  sustained  his  char- 
 acter as  a  minister  of  religion,  and  gained  his  point  in  every 
 thing;  and  that,  too,  with  so  admirable  a  tact,  in  a  way  so  nat- 
 ural and  unconstrained,  and  with  such  respectful  deference  to 
 his  host,  that  the  latter  could  not  be  displeased,  except  with 
 himself  Mr.  Payson  not  only  acknowledged  God  on  the  recep- 
 tion of  food,  but  read  the  Scriptures  and  prayed  before  separa- 
 ting from  the  family — and  did  it,  too,  at  the  request  of  the 
 master,  though  this  request  was  made,  in  every  successive 
 instance,  in  violation  of  a  fixed  purpose.    The  chagrin  of  this 
 
284 
 
 M  E  SI  O  I  p.  OF 
 
 disappointment,  however,  eventually  became  the  occasion  of  his 
 greatest  joy.  His  mind  was  never  entirely  at  ease  till  he  found 
 peace  in  believing.  Often  did  he  revert,  with  devout  thankful- 
 ness to  God,  to  the  visit  which  had  occasioned  his  mortification, 
 and  ever  after  regarded,  with  more  than  common  veneration 
 and  respect,  the  servant  of  God,  whom  he  had  once  despised, 
 and  was  glad  to  receive  his  ministrations  in  exchange  for  those 
 on  which  he  had  formerly  attended. 
 
 His  knowledge  was  not,  as  many  have  supposed,  limited 
 chiefly  to  theology.  He  was  familiar,  beyond  what  is  common, 
 Avith  the  whole  circle  of  the  sciences — so  much  so  that  eminent 
 men,  of  the  different  professions,  who  have  incidentally  met 
 with  him,  without  knowing  who  he  was,  have,  for  the  first 
 half  hour  of  their  conversation,  mistaken  him  for  one  of  their 
 own  class.  By  physicians  he  has  been  thought  a  physician,  and 
 a  lawyer  by  lawyers ;  and  even  the  experienced  senator  lias 
 found  him  an  invincible  antagonist,  on  ground  which  his  profes- 
 sion merely  would  not  require  him  to  assume. 
 
 He  never  ceased  to  add  to  his  stock  of  knowledge ;  and  his 
 intelligent  manner  of  conversing,  on  any  topic  whatever,  would 
 excite  less  of  wonder,  if  the  amount  of  his  reading  were  known. 
 He  was  a  subscriber  for  Ree's  Cyclopedia,  and  read  the  num- 
 bers, generally  throughout,  as  they  successively  issued  from  the 
 press.  He  has  been  reputed  a  great  novel  reader;  but  this  report, 
 as  it  would  be  naturally  understood,  misrepresents  him.  He 
 expended  little  money  or  time  on  books  of  this  class,  after  having 
 turned  his  attention  to  the  ministry.  He  knew  something  of 
 every  fictitious  work  which  was  introduced  into  the  place;  but 
 this  knowledge  was  gained,  perhaps,  in  an  hour's  time,  in  some 
 retired  corner  of  a  book-store,  which  was  kept  by  one  of  his 
 parish.  He  had  good  reasons  for  knowing  what  kind  of  books 
 circulated  among  his  people,  and  especially  if  any  of  them  were 
 immoral  in  llieir  tendency.  If  he  read  them  on  his  own  account, 
 it  was  for  mere  relaxation,  from  which  his  vigorous  and  well- 
 balanced  mind  derived  strength  and  freshness  for  more  solid 
 pursuits. 
 
 His  own  views  of  a  proper  coarse  of  reading  to  be  pursued 
 by  a  Christian  were  once  given,  extempore,  in  conversation, 
 from  which  it  will  be  seen,  that  novels  have,  at  most,  but  a  very 
 dubious  piace : — 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 285 
 
 'It  may  be  proper,  and  perhaps  advantageous,  for  a  Christian 
 to  read,  sparingly,  Avorks  of  taste.  Some  knowledge  of  the 
 philosophy  of  the  mind  is  desirable,  and  may  be  obtained  with- 
 out very  great  expense  of  time.  Church  history,  and  a  knowl- 
 edge- of  -ancient  Eastern  customs,  will  be  very  useful.  -  Every 
 kind  of  knowledge  which  expands,  strengthens,  and  adorns  the 
 mind,  may  be  properly  sought  by  the  Christian,  and  ought  to  be 
 sought  by  every  Christian  who  has  leisure  and  opportunity  for 
 reading.  Our  aim  in  seeking  it,  should  be  to  qualify  ourselves 
 to  serve  and  glorify  God  more  effectually,  and  to  increase  our 
 power  of  being  useful  to  our  fellow-creatures.  It  is  an  old 
 remark,  that  'knowledge  is  power. '  To  increase  our  knowledge, 
 then,  is  to  increase  our  powerof  doing  good.  Highly  as  I  prize 
 such  writers  as  Fenelon,  Kempis,  &c.,  I  am  convinced  we  may 
 study  them,  not,  perhaps,  too  much,  but  too  exclusively.  We 
 may  study  them  to  the  exclusion  of  other  writers,  whose  works 
 demand  our  attention ;  and  we  may  be  so  intent  upon  watching 
 our  feelings,  as  to  forget  to  watch  our  words  and  actions.  As 
 some  are  content  with  a  religion  which  is  all  body,  so  others 
 may  aim  at  a  religion  which  is  all  soul ;  but  religion  has  a  body, 
 as  well  as  a  soul.  If  some  think  it  sufficient  to  cleanse  the  out- 
 side of  the  cup,  others  may  be  so  much  occupied  in  cleansing 
 it  within,  as  to  forget  that  it  has  an  outside.  Both  deserve 
 attention.  " 
 
 The  press,  which  is,  with  some,  their  principal  means  of  use- 
 fulness, was  very  little  employed  by  Mr.  Payson.  He  cherished 
 a  very  low  estimate  of  his  own  qualities  as  a  writer,  and  could 
 rarely  be  persuaded  to  submit  a  production  for  publication. 
 To  a  request,  from  a  maternal  association  in  Boston,  for  the 
 copy  of  a  sermon  ofa  specified  character,  he  replied — "It  would 
 gratify  me  exceedingly  to  comply  with  the  request.  There  is  no 
 honor,  no  favor,  that  God  can  bestow,  which  I  should  prize 
 more  highly  than  that  of  doing  good  with  my  pen — of  leaving 
 something  behind  me  to  speak  for  Christ  when  I  am  silent  in 
 dust.  But  this  honor.  He  who  distributes  his  gifts  to  every  man 
 as  he  will,  does  not  see  fit  to  grant  me.  My  sermons  will  not 
 bear  perusal.  I  must  resign  the  privilege  of  doing  good  with 
 the  pen  to  those  who  are  more  able."  He  certainly  undervalued 
 himself  as  a  writer,  or  else  the  Christian  public  have  widely 
 
286 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 erred  in  their  estimation  of  the  very  few  publications  to  which, 
 during  his  Ufe  time,  he  consented.  His  discourse  before  the  Bi- 
 ble Society  of  Maine,  in  1814,  was  the  first  v/hich  he  suffered 
 to  go  to  press ;  and  the  myriads  of  copies,  which  have  been  put 
 in  circulation,  show  in  what  manner  it  is  appreciated.  And 
 7fet,  while  correcting  the  press,  he  says  of  it  — "It  seemed  so  flat, 
 I  would  have  given  any  thing  to  recall  it  from  the  press." 
 
 The  success  of  this  sermon  is  a  good  comment  on  the  secret 
 history  of  its  origin: — 
 
 "May  2,  1814.  Monday.  Was  so  much  exhausted,  that  I 
 could  scarcely  move.  Made  a  few  visits.  Tried  to  write;  but 
 felt  that  I  could  as  soon  make  a  world  as  write  a  sermon  for 
 Thursday,  without  special  divine  assistance. 
 
 "May  3.  Was  employed  all  the  forenoon  in  preparing  a 
 sermon  to  be  preached  before  the  Bible  Society.  Felt  that  I  was 
 utterly  incapable  of  it,  and  that  if  I  was  enabled  to  write  one, 
 the  glory  would  not  be  mine.  Prayed  for  assistance  with  a 
 strong  hope  of  obtaining  it.    Made  a  few  visits. 
 
 "May  4.  Was  employed  upon  ray  sermon,  and  was  favored 
 with  considerable  assistance.  Felt,  I  hope,  some  thankfulness. 
 But  alt  my  prayers  for  assistance,  as  well  as  my  thankfulness 
 for  it,  are  so  mixed  with  selfishness,  that  they  are  worse  than 
 nothing.  In  the  afternoon,  attended  the  funeral  of  my  oldest 
 deacon.  Wished  to  be  suitably  affected,  and  to  see  others  so. 
 Found  a  large  concourse  of  people  assembled,  made  a  few  ob- 
 servations to  them,  but  was  much  straitened. 
 
 "May  5.  Completed  my  sermon.  Felt  much  dissatisfied 
 with  it.  Prayed  that  it  might  be  blessed  to  convey  more  to  the 
 minds  of  others  than  it  did  to  my  own.  In  the  evening,  preach- 
 ed ;  a  most  oppressive  air,  and  I  spoke  with  difficuliy.  Con- 
 cluded, from  observations  made  after  meeting,  that  the  sermon 
 might  have  done  some  good  ;  if  so,  to  God  belongs  all  the  glory, 
 and  to  him  may  I  be  enabled  to  ascribe  it." 
 
 "Portland,  May  24,  1814. 
 
 "Not  long  after  you  receive  this,  you  may  expect  a  letter  in 
 print;  that  is  to  say,  a  discourse,  which  I  have  been  compelled, 
 sadly  against  my  will,  to  give  into  the  hands  of  the  printer.  It 
 is  a  discourse  lately  delivered  before  the  Bible  Society.  Fifteen 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 287 
 
 hundred  copies  were  subscribed  for,  and  a  promise  made,  that 
 the  profits  should  go  to  purchase  Bibles.  Finding  that  the 
 profits  would  be  sufficient  to  purchase,  at  least,  one  hundred 
 and  fifty  Bibles,  I  could  not  in  conscience  refuse.  So,  as  soon 
 as  it  comes  from  the  press,  which  will  be  in  a  very  few  days, 
 you  will  probably  receive  one.  Do,  my  dear  parents,  pray, 
 pray  earnestly  for  the  poor  orphan,  that  it  may  do  good  in  the 
 world.  I  have  never  been  assisted  to  pray  so  much  for  any 
 one  sermon  as  this;  and  that  encouraged  me  to  let  it  see  the 
 light.  If  it  never  does  any  other  good,  it  will  be  the  means  of 
 giving  the  Bible  to  many  who  would  otherwise  remain  without 
 it." 
 
 A  very  excellent  Thanksgiving  Sermon  was  also  given  to  the 
 public  in  1820,  for  a  similar  reason,  viz.  a  promise,  which  was 
 amply  fulfilled,  that  it  should  be  made  to  produce  something 
 for  missionary  purposes. 
 
 His  "Address  to  Seamen"  was  the  next  in  order  of  his  pub- 
 lications. Men,  affecting  considerable  pretensions  to  literature, 
 have  been  heard  to  speak  of  this  production  as  a  gross  violation 
 of  good  taste.  But  the  author  knew  his  object,  and  the  way  in 
 which  he  could  best  accomplish  it.  He  was  not  writing  an  ora- 
 tion for  the  alumni  of  a  college,  nor  an  article  for  a  Quarterly 
 Review,  nor  a  "pretty  discourse"  for  a  fashionable  auditory, 
 but  an  address  to  seamen.  He  had  enjoyed  more  than  common 
 advantages  for  studying  the  character  of  this  class  of  his  fellow 
 men,  and  understood  their  vocabulary  almost  as  well  as  them- 
 selves—  so  well,  that  an  experienced  sea-captain  was  able  to 
 detect,  in  the  whole  address,  but  a  single  nautical  term  whose 
 application  involved  a  misconception  of  its  use.  As  a  model,  it 
 would  be  dangerous  to  imitate  it — the  attempt,  indeed,  would 
 be  ridiculous.  But  if  it  is  not  a  good  address,  the  public  is 
 strangely  erroneous  in  its  "taste,"  and  the  effect  which  it  pro- 
 duced, not  only  on  its  hearers,  but  on  its  readers,  far  and  wide, 
 is  wholly  unaccountable.  Its  popularity,  .from  the  very  first, 
 has  been  unrivalled  by  any  thing  of  its  kind.  Copies  of  it  have 
 been  multiplied  to  an  extent  past  computation.  It  has  been 
 translated  into  some  of  the  languages  of  the  old  world,  and 
 pretty  extensively  circulated  on  the  coasts  of  the  Mediterranean, 
 
288 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 from  the  press  at  Malta.  And,  if  report  be  true,  some  divines 
 of  the  mother  country  have  not  thought  it  disgraceful  to  claim 
 a  parental  relation  to  it.  Still  it  was  no  labored  production  ;  it 
 was  happily  conceived,  but  the  author  does  not  appear  to  have 
 laid  himself  out  to  produce  any  thuig  very  extraordinary.  It 
 was  thrown  off  almost  at  a  sitting,  and  at  a  time  when  he  was 
 "encompassed  with  infirmities,"  and  heavily  pressed  by  other 
 labors.    This  is  evident  from  his  private  record : — 
 
 "  Oct.  22,  23,  1821.  Very  unwell  these  two  days.  Could 
 do  nothing,  although  1  have  four  sermons  to  prepare  this  week. 
 Was,  for  a  moment,  tempted  to  murmur ;  but  the  recollection 
 of  God's  past  kindness  and  faithfulness  prevented  me,  and 
 caused  faith  to  revive. 
 
 "  Oct.  24.  Was  better  to-day  ;  and  wrote  almost  the  whole 
 of  an  address  to  seamen,  to  be  delivered  Sabbath  evening. 
 Felt  some  degree  of  gratitude,  and  resolved  never  to  refuse  to 
 improve  any  opportunity  of  doing  good  because  I  seemed  not  to 
 have  time  for  it. 
 
 "Oct.  25.  Was  furnished  with  a  suitable  text  and  sermon 
 for  this  evening,  without  much  labor.  How  graciously  and 
 wisely  does  God  deal  with  me  !  How  much  I  ought  to  love  and 
 trust  him  !  Tried  to  preach  my  sermon  to  myself  Went  to  the 
 house  of  God  in  much  such  a  frame  as  I  should  wish  to  go  ;  but 
 had  no  assistance  in  preaching,  and  got  through  with  difficulty. 
 But  felt  satisfied  that  it  should  be  so,  and  was  enabled  to  re- 
 joice in  the  Lord. 
 
 "  Oct.  26.  Was  assisted  to-day  in  writing,  and  had  a  pre- 
 cious season  in  prayer. 
 
 "Oct.  27.  Sick  to-day — a  violent  head-ache,  with  some 
 fever.  Did  not  see  how  I  could  complete  my  preparation  for 
 to-morrow,  but  felt  satisfied  and  easy.  Saw  it  was  best  I  should 
 have  some  rebuff;  took  courage  from  it,  and  hope  that  God 
 meant  to  bless  my  labors  to-morrow.  In  the  evening,  wrote 
 considerable,  notwithstanding  my  head-ache ;  and,  after  I  re- 
 tired, was  almost  painfully  happy,  rejoicing  in  God  with  joy 
 unspeakable  and  full  of  glory. 
 
 "  Oct.  28.  Sabbath.  Some  better  this  morning.  Finished 
 a  sermon  for  the  afternoon,  on  increasing  in  the  knowledge  of 
 God.    Was  almost  insupportably  happy,  and  could  hardly  re- 
 
EDWARD    PAY  SON. 
 
 289 
 
 frain  from  shouting  aloud  for  joy.  Was  assisted  in  praying  for 
 others ;  yet  had  no  assistance  in  public  prayer  or  preaching. 
 In  the  evenmg,  preached  to  seamen  —  an  overflowing  house; 
 aisles  and  pulpit  stairs  full,  and  hundreds  went  away  who 
 could  not  get  in.  Was  enabled  to  go  through  tolerably.  As 
 soon  as  I  came  down,  was  beset  so  importunately  for  a  copy  for 
 the  press,  that  I  could  not  refuse." 
 
 "Portland,  Nov.  25,  1821. 
 "  My  Address  to  Seamen  is  published,  and  I  shall  send  you 
 one  with  this.  They  have  printed  nine  thousand  copies  ;  three 
 thousand  in  the  sermon  form,  and  six  thousand  in  the  form  of  a 
 tract.  They  mean  to  send  them  to  every  seaport  in  the  United 
 States.  I  know  you  will  pray  that  a  blessmg  may  go  with  it. 
 It  produced  a  great  effect  upon  seamen  and  others  for  a  time  : 
 but  I  do  not  know  that  any  have  been  really  awakened  by  it. 
 One  hundred  and  forty  sailors  applied,  the  next  day,  for  Bibles, 
 most  of  whom  paid  for  them.  I  could  not  but  wonder  to  see  God 
 work  by  it.  I  had  only  ten  days'  notice,  and,  during  that  time, 
 had  to  prepare  and  preach  six  sermons,  besides  the  Address,  and 
 another  sermon  which  I  did  not  preach." 
 
 "  Dec.  26. 
 
 "  If  I  do  not  feel  thankful  for  any  other  favor  which  God 
 gives  me,  I  do  feel  some  gratitude  when  he  enables  me  to  do 
 any  thing  which  gives  pleasure  to  the  heart  of  my  mother.  If 
 you  were  dead,  one  half  the  gratification  I  feel,  when  I  publish 
 any  thing  which  is  well  received,  would  be  gone.  I  should  also 
 lose  one  half  of  my  hopes,  that  any  thing  I  publish  will  do  good ; 
 for  I  build  my  hopes  very  much  on  your  prayers  for  a  blessing. 
 I  suppose  you  or  H.  sent  me  the  Keene  paper,  which  contains 
 my  Address.  It  has  been  published  in  two  other  papers,  and  in 
 a  Baptist  Magazine  at  Boston  ;  and  I  have  just  received  a  letter 
 
 from  Professor  P.'s  wife,  at  ,  in  behalf  of  a  number  of  ladies 
 
 there,  who  wish  to  publish  a  large  edition,  in  the  form  of  a  tract. 
 I  have  requested  our  church  to  pray  that  a  blessing  may  go  with 
 it,  and  I  doubt  not  you  will  continue  to  pray.  If  it  does  any 
 good,  it  will  be  owing  to  prayer." 
 
 His  other  publication  was  a  sermon,  preached  before  the 
 "  Marine,  Bible  Society  of  Boston,"  entitled  "  The  Oracles  of 
 VOL.  I.  37 
 
290 
 
 MEMOIR    OFEDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 God" — a  much  more  labored  production  than  either  of  his  other 
 published  discourses,  and  yet,  for  some  cause,  it  has  been  far 
 less  popular.  Besides  these,  he  furnished  one  or  two  manu- 
 script sermons  for  the  National  Preacher,  which  appeared  soon 
 after  his  decease. 
 
CHAPTER  XVI. 
 
 His  exertions  without  the  bounds  of  his  parish  —  Lifluence  on  his  ministerial 
 associates ;  in  resuscitating  and  edifying  other  churches  —  Visits  "  The 
 Springs" — Effect  of  his  example,  conversation,  and  prayers  on  other 
 visitors  —  Excursions  in  behalf  of  charitable  societies  —  Translation  of 
 ministers  —  He  is  invited  to  Boston  and  New  York, 
 
 It  is  not  easy  to  estimate  the  usefulness  of  a  man  in  public 
 life,  whose  numerous  relations  bring  him  into  contact  with  his 
 fellow  men,  in  a  great  variety  of  circumstances.  A  minister  of 
 the  gospel,  especially  at  this  day,  is  not  an  insulated  individual, 
 whose  influence  is  limited  by  parochial  bounds.  His  presence, 
 counsel,  example,  prayers,  give  shape,  tone,  direction,  energy,  to 
 public  institutions  for  enlightening  the  human  species,  alleviating 
 its  sufferings,  and  extending  the  empire  of  holmess.  It  is, 
 indeed,  no  slight  honor  to  be  permitted  to  feed  and  build  up  a 
 single  branch  of  the  church  of  God.  To  see  the  number  of  be- 
 lievers multiplied,  and  converted  sinners  joining  themselves  to 
 the  people  of  God,  as  the  fruit  of  his  labors,  is  an  adequate  re- 
 ward for  the  pastor's  most  arduous  toils,  and  for  all  the  solici- 
 tude, with  which  his  anxious  bosom  is  afflicted.  And  yet  the 
 increase  and  edification  of  his  own  particular  charge  may  be 
 only  a  small  part  of  the  good  which  is  to  be  traced,  more  or  less 
 directly,  to  his  instrumentality.  The  many  hundreds,  to  whom 
 Mr.  Payson's  labors  were  blessed  in  the  place  of  his  residence, 
 and  whom  it  was  his  happiness  to  welcome  to  the  church  imder 
 his  special  supervision,  are  only  a  part,  and  may  be  found  a 
 small  part,  of  the  gems  which  will  embellish  his  crown  of  re- 
 joicing in  the  day  of  the  Lord.    To  ascertain  the  whole  amount 
 
292 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 of  his  usefulness,  we  must  know  the  nature  and  degree  of  his 
 influence  upon  his  fellow  laborers  in  the  ministry, — the  effect  of 
 his  occasional  labors  in  different  and  distant  parts  of  the  country, 
 his  agency  in  raising  the  tone  of  piety  m  all  the  churches  which 
 could  be  reached  by  his  influence,  the  results  of  his  powerful 
 pleadings  in  behalf  of  religious  and  charitable  enterprises,  of  his 
 counsel  in  ecclesiastical  concerns,  and  as  one  of  the  guardians 
 of  the  principal  seminary  of  learning  in  Maine, — all,  in  short, 
 that  flowed  from  his  conscientious  and  ever  watchful  regard, 
 wherever  he  was,  and  with  whomsoever  he  met,  to  the  apostoli- 
 cal precept  —  "  Consider  one  another,  to  provoke  unto  love  and 
 to  good  works." 
 
 It  is  not  intended  here  to  give  him  a  character  at  the  expense 
 of  his  brethren,  or  to  introduce  their  names  as  a  foil  to  his  ex- 
 cellences. Such  comparisons  are  always  invidious :  and,  be- 
 sides, where  many  are  associated  in  the  same  cause,  it  is  diffi- 
 cult, indeed  impossible,  to  define  the  precise  degree  of  influence 
 which  ought  to  be  ascribed  to  each  ;  though  all,  probably,  will 
 admit  Mr.  Payson's  claim  to  a  large  share  ;  and  not  a  few,  on 
 reviewing  the  past,  will  see,  in  the  exigencies  of  the  churches  in 
 this  region,  and  in  the  existing  standard  of  ministerial  disinter- 
 estedness and  zeal,  causes  of  thankfulness  to  that  gracious  Provi- 
 dence which  raised  up  and  sent  such  a  man  among  them. 
 
 His  presence  in  the  ministerial  association  to  which  he  be- 
 longed, though  often  prevented  by  the  frequent  recurrence  of 
 his  agonizing  "head-ache,"  and  by  duties  at  home,  which  he 
 could  not  dispense  with,  was  highly  valued  by  a  majority  of  his 
 brethren.  He  was  a  strong  advocate  for  devoting  the  first  part 
 of  the  time  occupied  by  such  meetings,  to  social  prayer.  Prayer 
 was  his  own  preparation  for  every  duty ;  and  he  felt  it  to  be 
 equally  important,  that  it  should  be  a  common  preparation  for  a 
 social  duty.  When  on  a  council  for  the  ordination  of  a  minis- 
 ter, he  was  always  on  the  watch  for  some  interval  of  time,  to 
 be  consecrated  to  imited  prayer,  with  particular  reference  to  the 
 occasion  and  its  consequences.  In  ministers'  meetings,  whether 
 the  immediate  object  were  mutual  edification,  or  a  solution  were 
 requested  of  cases  of  conscience,  and  other  difficulties  which 
 often  arise  in  the  discharge  of  the  sacred  office,  or  trying  cases  of 
 discipline  were  presented  for  advisement,  he  was  always  ready 
 to  speak  in  his  turn,  and  always  spoke  to  the  purpose.    A  topic 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 293 
 
 seldom  passed  him  without  fresh  elucidation.  Any  proposi- 
 uon,  which  bore  the  least  trace  of  a  time-serving  policy,  or 
 mere  worldly  wisdom,  he  would  instantly  discountenance. 
 The  writer  has  known  him  to  do  this,  at  once  and  effectually, 
 by  a  very  few  words  of  his  own,  pointed  with  one  of  Wither- 
 spoon's  "  Characteristics." 
 
 He  occasionally  performed  services  for  other  parishes,  of  most 
 auspicious  bearing  on  the  cause  of  religion ;  services  which 
 thousands  have  regretted  that  his  health  and  engagements  would 
 not  permit  him  to  repeat.  The  nature  of  the  services  alluded 
 to  will  be  seen  by  an  extract : — 
 
 "  Portland,  Jan.  7,  1814. 
 "  My  DEAR  mother: — Not  long  after  your  return,  I  went  to 
  ,  a  town  about  forty  miles  from  this,  on  a  week's  mis- 
 sionary excursion.  They  are  in  a  wretched  state — -have  had  no 
 settled  minister  for  seven  years.  The  only  minister  they  ever 
 had  proved  an  intemperate  man.  He  is  still  living  in  the  place, 
 and  does  all  he  can  to  prejudice  the  people  against  the  gospel 
 and  all  w^ho  preach  it.  Before  I  proceed,  I  must  take  a  little 
 shame  to  myself,  that  God's  goodness  may  appear  more  con- 
 spicuous. I  commenced  my  ride  by  going  to  G.,  to  obtain  Mr. 
 H.  to  preach  for  me  during  my  absence.  The  next  morning,  it 
 stormed  violently ;  then  I  began  to  repent  of  my  undertaking. 
 However,  I  was  ashamed  to  go  back  ;  so  on  1  went  in  the 
 storm.  I  was  tolerably  good-natured  the  first  part  of  the  day, 
 but  the  storm  and  the  road  grew  worse  and  worse.  First  it  was 
 all  mire  and  clay,  then  nothing  but  hills  and  stones.  I  began  to 
 grow  cross.  Every  bad  jolt  made  me  worse,  till  I  felt  as  bad 
 as  Jonah  did,  and  was  ready  to  say  with  him — '  I  do  well  to  be 
 angry.'  Being  in  this  frame,  I  concluded,  of  course,  that  I 
 should  do  no  good,  wished  myself  at  home  a  thousand  times, 
 and  more  than  half  resolved  that  I  would  never  have  anything 
 to  do  with  a  missionary  tour  again.  However,  I  arrived  safe 
 and  began  my  labors,  and  soon  found  that  I  was  not  laboring 
 alone.  I  cannot  go  into  particulars.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  in 
 no  place,  not  even  in  Portland,  have  I  ever  seen  so  much  of 
 God's  power  displayed,  in  the  same  space  of  time,  as  during 
 
 the  six  days  I  spent  in  .    I  preached  six  times,  and  made 
 
 between  forty  and  fifty  family  visits.    Many  were  awakened — 
 
294 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 almost  all  were  solemn.  One  old  man  of  seventy,  among  the 
 wealthiest  in  the  place,  who  has  always  been  against  doing  any 
 thing  towards  the  settlement  of  a  minister,  was  very  deeply 
 impressed,  and  has  promised  to  give  three  hmidred  dollars 
 towards  a  fund.  Two  others  will  give  three  hundred  more 
 each.  I  was  obliged  to  return  home,  on  account  of  church  fast 
 and  communion  ;  but  they  have  sent  for  me  to  come  up  again, 
 and  next  week,  Providence  permitting.  I  shall  go.  Thus  was  I 
 shamed  and  confounded  by  God's  goodness.  This  is  not  all.  I 
 came  home  thoroughly  drenched  by  the  shower  of  divine  influ- 
 ences. Avhich  began  to  fall  at  ,  and  soon  found  that  the 
 
 cloud  had  followed  me,  and  was  beginning  to  pour  itself  down 
 \ipon  my  people.  Instead  of  a  fast,  we  appointed  a  season  of 
 thanksgiving.  A  blessing  seemed  to  follow  it.  I  then  invited 
 the  young  men  of  the  parish  to  come  to  my  house,  on  Sabbath 
 evening,  for  religious  purposes.  The  church  thought  none 
 would  come.  I  expected  twenty  at  most.  The  first  evening 
 forty  came;  the  second,  sixty :  and  the  third,  seventy.  This 
 was  the  last  Sabbath.  Six  stopped,  after  the  rest  were  dismis- 
 sed, to  converse  more  particularly  respecting  divine  things. 
 About  thirty  persons  are  known  to  be  seriously  inquiring,  and 
 there  is  every  appearance  that  the  work  is  spreading.  Mean- 
 while, I  am  so  ashamed,  so  rejoiced,  and  so  astonished,  to  see 
 what  God  is  doing,  that  I  can  scarcely  get  an  hours  sleep." 
 
 No  account  of  his  second  visit  has  been  preserved.  The 
 hopes,  however,  which  had  been  excited  by  his  first,  Avcre  not 
 disappointed.  The  change,  which  then  commenced,  prevailed, 
 and  was  permanent.  In  the  following  spring,  a  candidate,  who 
 had  completed  his  preparation  for  (he  ministry  under  Mr.  Pay- 
 son's  instruction,  visited  the  place,  and,  during  his  first  week, 
 "  found  ten  persons  who  entertained  a  hope,  and  heard  of  others  ; 
 and,  in  sixteen  families  whom  he  had  visited,  more  or  less  wore 
 inquiring,  and,  in  some  instances,  whole  families.  Religion  was 
 almost  exclusively  the  topic  of  conversation,  and  the  whole  soci- 
 ety appeared  solemn.  The  subscriptions  to  a  fund,  for  the  sup- 
 port of  a  Calvinistic  minister  of  the  gospel,  had  amounted  to 
 three  or  four  thousand  dollars.'  This  young  preacher  soon 
 became  the  established  minister  of  the  place.  Such  were  the 
 results  of  one  short  missionary  excursion. 
 
EDWARD  PAYSOX. 
 
 295 
 
 About  three  years  later,  by  particular  request,  he  spent  a 
 week  ill  another  town,  where  some  religious  attention  had  com- 
 mencod.  It  was  a  season  of  great  solemnity.  At  his  sugges- 
 tion, the  church  assembled  and  renewed  their  covenant,  whose 
 bonds,  for  a  long  time,  had  been  but  lil tie  felt.  Their  pastor  led 
 the  way  by  acknowledging  his  deficiencies,  and  then  implorhig 
 forgiveness  and  strength  for  time  to  come,  renewed  his  engage- 
 ments to  the  Lord  and  his  people.  His  wife  followed  his  exam- 
 ple, .and  was  succeeded  by  the  members  of  the  church.  During 
 this  visit,  Mr.  Payson  preached  thirteen  sermons,  besides  attend- 
 ing the  less  public  meetings,  and  conversing  with  inquirers  and 
 the  impenitent ,  and  yet  he  was  scarcely  sensible  of  fatigue  till 
 he  left'the  spot.  He  "  was  so  happy,  that  he  thought  he  might, 
 have  exerted  himself  till  he  expired,  without  knowing  that  he 
 needed  rest."  Of  five  persons,  the  fruits  of  this  revival,  who 
 were  propounded  to  the  church  at  one  time,  four  were  above 
 seventy  years  of  age. 
 
 A  service,  not  very  dissimilar  in  kind,  he  once  performed  for 
 several  churches  in  his  own  neighborhood,  as  one  of  a  committee 
 of  the  Cumberland  conference,  much  to  their  acceptance,  m\d,  it 
 is  hoped,  to  their  spiritual  advantage. 
 
 During  his  public  life,  Mr.  Payson  made  several  journeys  to 
 the  springs  at  Ballston  and  Saratoga,  for  the  recovery  of  his 
 wasted  health.  The  mixed  characters,  collected  together  at 
 this  place  of  fashionable  resort,  foinid  him  the  judicious  and 
 earnest  advocate  of  his  Master's  cause.  Here  he  was  no  less 
 bent  on  the  ruling  purpose  of  his  heart,  than  when  at  home, 
 among  his  own  favorite  flock.  A  visitor  from  another  state, 
 who  took  lodgings  in  the  same  house  with  liimself,  and  preserv- 
 ed some  of  his  remarks  and  topics  of  discourse,  testifies  th^t  it 
 was  Mr.  Payson's  usual  practice,  in  the  evening,  to  read  the 
 Scriptures  at  a  stated  hour,  and  oiler  prayer,  which  was  attend- 
 ed by  most  of  the  family  and  boarders,  and  to  spend  a  half 
 hour,  after  prayer,  in  religious  conversation  with  all  who  were 
 disposed  to  remain.  He  always  found  many  willing  to  hear, 
 and  the  number  continually  increased.  He  observed  to  the 
 visitor  above  alluded  to,  that  the  time  spent  at  the  springs  would 
 not  appear  so  much  like  a  blank,  if  he  should  be  permitted  to 
 do  any  thing  for  the  cause  of  Christ.  This  privilege  was  grant- 
 ed him ;  for  many  left  that  boarding-house  with  deep  religious 
 
21)0 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 impressions,  produced  through  his  iustrumeutality.  One  young 
 man,  who  had  resolved  on  finding  new  lodgings,  because 
 there  was  "  so  much  praying"  wiiere  he  was,  became  the 
 subject  of  deep  conviction,  the  very  evening  he  expressed  such 
 a  determination.  The  gentleman,  on  whose  authority  these 
 facts  are  stated,  observes  of  his  prayers — "They  contain  a 
 great  deal  of  instruction,  as  well  as  devotion.  He  has  a  happy 
 faculty  of  making  his  prayers  preach."  Yet,  while  his  conver- 
 sation and  prayers  were  so  impressive,  and  so  full  of  instruction 
 to  others,  he  mourns  over  his  own  dulness,  as  though  "  the 
 waters  had  washed  every  idea  out  of  his  head,  and  every  feeling 
 out  of  his  heart." 
 
 The  events  alluded  to  in  the  foregoing  paragraph,  occurred  iu 
 1815.  Of  the  impression  produced  by  a  subsequent  visit,  some 
 idea  may  be  formed  from  the  following  letter,  addressed  to  the 
 compiler : — 
 
 "  East  Windsor,  Conn.,  Nov.  2,  1829. 
 
  "  On  his  way  to  Niagara,  Dr.  Payson  called  at  my 
 
 liouse,  purposing  to  rest  awhile,  and  try  the  benefit  of  the 
 waters.  I  had  heard  much  of  this  excellent  man,  but  never 
 saw  him  fill  this  time ;  and  the  impression  he  made  on  ray 
 mind,  at  this  first  interview,  will  not  soon  be  forgotten.  I  was 
 struck  with  the  perfect  simplicity  and  great  dignity  of  his  man- 
 ners. His  countenance  was  '  care-worn,'  and  he  had  the  appear- 
 ance of  one  sinking  under  the  load  of  human  infirmities,  and 
 si gl ling  for  rest. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Speaking  of  his  trials  on  one  occasion,  he  observed  to  me  — 
 '  I  have  needed,  ail  along,  to  be  under  the  discipline  of  Heaven: 
 for  iiothing  else  could  have  kept  me  humble,  and  saved  me  from 
 perdition.  I  have  ever  been  prone  to  depart  from  God,  and  have 
 been  kept  only  by  a  constant  effort  of  his  love.  It  seems  to  me 
 if  God  had  not  continually  held  the  rod  over  me,  and  hedged  up 
 my  way,  I  should  have  escaped  from  his  hands,  and  been  forever 
 separated  from  his  love.' — I  expected,  in  answer  to  my  inquiries, 
 to  hear  of  the  victories  of  his  faith;  but  he  spoke  only  of  the 
 wonderful  power  of  God,  which  had  kept  him,  and  of  his  love 
 to  one  so  unworthy  and  perverse.  He  spoke  of  his  '  fierce 
 temptations,'  and  how  he  had  been  delivered  by  the  mere 
 mcicy  of  God,  and  v/ondered  that  God  should  concern  himself 
 
EDWARD    PA  YSON. 
 
 297 
 
 about  such  a  worm,  and  that  he  did  not  leave  him  to  be  torn 
 and  devoured  by  Satan.  In  all  my  conversation  with  this  won- 
 derful man,  I  never  heard  him  utter  a  word  that  bordered  on 
 boasting,  or  savored  of  pride;  but  he  seemed  to  have  a  surpris- 
 ing sense  of  his  own  unworthiness,  and  of  the  amazing  love  of 
 God  in  making  himself  known  to  him,  and  giving  him  a  hope 
 in  his  meicy. 
 
 "Among  the  virtues  of  our  friend's  character,  that  of  humil- 
 ity appeared  eminently  beautiful  and  lovely,  and  shone  in  his 
 whole  deportment.  In  prayer,  his  soul  lay  low  before  God. 
 He  frequently  took  part  in  family  devotion,  and  here  he  excelled 
 all  the  men  I  ever  heard.  He  carried  us  up,  and  placed  us  all 
 in  the  divine  presence ;  and,  when  he  spread  forth  his  hands  to 
 God,  heaven  seemed  to  come  down  to  earth,  and  the  glory  of 
 the  Lord  shone  around  our  tabernacle.  He  knew  our  wants, 
 and  he  expressed  them  in  language  simple  and  affecting.  He 
 knew  our  miseries,  and  he  told  them  all  in  such  tones  of  tender- 
 ness and  sympathy,  as  made  us  feel  that  a  friend  was  pleading 
 our  cause.  While  this  holy  man  has  talked  with  God,  and 
 seemed  to  be  overshadowed  with  the  divine  glory,  I  have  some- 
 times thought  I  could  imagine  what  must  have  been  the  ecstasy 
 of  Peter,  when  surrounded  with  the  glories  of  the  transfigura- 
 tion scene.  At  these  solemn  seasons,  when  our  brother  has 
 been  pouring  out  his  heart  in  deep  complaints  of  shi,  and.  in 
 fervent  petitions  for  mercy,  it  has  seemed  as  though  the  cloud 
 of  the  divine  presence  covered  the  household,  and  the  divine 
 majesty  was  very  near  us. 
 
 "The  only  exercise  Dr.  Payson  performed  in  public,  while 
 with  us,  was  the  baptism  of  my  youngest  child.  Some,  who 
 heard  his  baptismal  prayer,  observed,  afterwards,  that  the  sub- 
 ject of  infant  baptism  had  never  been  exhibited  to  them  in  so 
 convincing  and  solemn  a  light,  and  that  they  had  never  been  so 
 thoroughly  impressed  with  the  obligations  of  religious  parents, 
 and  the  covenant  rights  of  their  children. 
 
 "  In  the  bosom  of  a  private  family,  Dr.  Payson  hoped  to  es- 
 cape notice,  and  find  rest  from  the  vexations  of  company.  But 
 he  could  not  be  long  concealed  ;  his  retreat  was  soon  discovered, 
 and  visitors  thronged  to  see  him. 
 
 "  Our  domestic  circle  was  often  enlivened  by  the  presence  and 
 the  conversation  of  Dr.  Payson.    The  children  were  not  unno- 
 voL.  I.  38 
 
298 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 ticed  by  him,  but  shared  largely  in  his  attentions  ;  and  he  seem- 
 ed to  take  delight  in  sharing  the  toils  of  the  nursery.  Often 
 would  he  take  the  child  from  the  arms  of  its  mother,  and  carry 
 it  for  hours  together,  and  sing  some  little  air  to  divert  it.  His 
 conversations  were,  for  the  most  part,  of  a  religious  cast.  He 
 seemed  inclined  to  dwell  on  melancholy  subjects,  and  the  strains 
 of  the  mourning  prophet  suited  him  best.  Yet  now  and  then 
 would  he  dwell  on  the  sublime  and  animating  themes  of  relig- 
 ion ;  and,  when  he  began  on  an  exalted  strain,  he  was  surpass- 
 ingly eloquent  and  instructive.  He  would  seize  hold  of  some 
 thought,  and  pursue  it  until  it  expanded  and  glowed  under  the 
 splendor  of  his  imagery.  On  one  occasion,  he  spoke  of  the 
 probable  condition  of  the  soul  of  the  believer  when  dying.  At 
 this  awful  period,  when  gasping  in  the  agonies  of  death,  and 
 apparently  insensible  to  every  thing  around  him,  he  supposed 
 the  v/orld  to  be  wholly  shut  out ;  and  in  this  condition,  while 
 friends  stand  around,  and  tremble  to  think  of  the  unknown  ag- 
 onies he  may  be  enduring,  he  supposes  the  liglit  of  God's  coun- 
 tenance is  pouring  in  upon  the  soul,  rendering  him  insensible  to 
 all  his  pains,  and  the  soul  is  struggling  and  panting  to  escape 
 from  the  crumbling  tenement,  and  be  at  rest  in  the  bosom  of 
 God. —  I  can  only  give  you  the  idea;  it  is  impossible  to  reach 
 his  description.  He  seemed  to  dwell  in  a  spiritual  world,  and 
 to  be  most  conversant  with  spiritual  objects.  This  he  manifest- 
 ed '  by  pureuess,  by  knowledge,  by  love  unfeigned.'  He  talked 
 about  death  as  we  would  talk  about  going  from  one  place  to 
 another  ;  and,  if  any  might  adopt  the  language  of  Watts,  much 
 more  might  he  :  — 
 
 "  Receive  my  clay,  thou  treasurer  of  death ; 
 I  will  no  more  demand  my  tongue 
 Till  the  gross  organ  well  refined, 
 
 Shall  trace  the  boundless  flights  of  an  unfettered  mind, 
 And  raise  an  equal  song." 
 
 "  I  add  no  more ;  only  that  the  visit  of  Dr.  Payson  at  my 
 house  left  this  impression  upon  our  minds — not  to  be  forgetful 
 to  entertain  strangers  ;  for  thereby  some  have  entertained  Angels 
 unawares.  Respectfully  yours, 
 
 "Samuel  W.  Whelpley." 
 
EDWAUD  PAYSON. 
 
 299 
 
 A  short  passage  from  a  letter  of  condolence,  adressed  to  Mrs. 
 Payson  by  a  friend  in  Connecticut,  will  probably  express  the 
 common  sentiment  of  many  thousands,  who  have  listened  to 
 him  whether  for  a  few  moments  only  or  for  hours :  — 
 
 "  I  remember  with  most  deep  and  interesting  impression,  my 
 last  irlterview  with  your  beloved  and  ever-to-be-lamented  hus- 
 band. It  Avas  during  a  delightful  ride  of  five  or  six  miles,  on 
 the  borders  of  Farmington  river.  Never  had  I  heard  such  dis- 
 course from  the  lips  of  man — never  had  such  interview  with  a 
 mortal.  Even  then  he  seemed  like  a  pure  spirit  from  another 
 world.  Such  words  of  wisdom  !  and  such  heavenly  affections  ! 
 I  cannot  efface  the  impression  from  my  mind." 
 
 The  compiler  has  taken  much  pains  to  procure  from  compan- 
 ions of  his  journeys  some  of  the  striking  observations,  which 
 were  drawn  from  him  by  the  natural  scenery  that  he  witnessed, 
 by  the  various  characters  with  whom  he  met,  and  the  circum- 
 stances in  which,  at  different  times,  he  found  himself  But  his 
 attempts,  even  with  those  from  whom  he  had  the  greatest  rea- 
 son to  expect  full  and  satisfactory  replies,  have  been  utterly 
 fruitless.  The  general  impression  produced  by  his  occasional 
 conversation,  has  been  very  strong  and  deep,  and  the  effect 
 powciful  and  abiding ;  but  not  one  has  ventured  to  report  par- 
 ticulars. The  words,  and  of  course,  the  precise  sentiments, 
 with  numerous  circumstances  which  rendered  them  peculiarly 
 seasonable,  "  like  apples  of  gold  in  pictures  of  silver,"  are  lost 
 beyond  recovery,  while  their  effect  remains.  The  impulse 
 which  he  gave  to  other  minds  still  keeps  them  in  action,  and  is 
 still  transmitted  from  mind  to  mind,  while  it  is  impossible  for 
 them  to  tell  how  this  impulse  was  first  imparted.  The  pleas- 
 ure and  the  benefit  remain,  though  the  exciting  cause  has  disap- 
 peared. So  absorbed  have  persons  been  with  the  effect,  as  to 
 lose  all  distinct  recollection  of  the  means  employed  in  producing 
 it.  This  corresponds  with  the  writer's  experience.  At  the  first 
 visit  which  he  ever  received  from  Dr.  Payson,  some  allusion 
 was  made  to  the  opinion  which  prevails  among  Christians  in 
 common  life,  that  ministers  are  in  a  situation  peculiarly  favor- 
 able to  religious  enjoyment,  because  their  profession  leads  them 
 to  be  incessantly  conversant  with  divine  truth.    "  This,"  said 
 
300 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 Mr.  Payson,  is  just  as  if  a  hungry  man,  on  entering  the  kitch- 
 en of  a  large  victuahng-house,  and  inhahng  the  savory  odor  of 
 the  various  dishes  of  rich  food,  hot  from  the  fire  and  the  oven, 
 with  which  the  busy  laborers  were  loading  the  tables,  should 
 exclaim — 'What  a  blessed  time  these  cooks  have  !'  "  During 
 the  interview  he  uttered. enough  to  make  a  valuable  pamphlet ; 
 and  yet  this  one  comparison  is  all  that  can  be  related  with  even 
 tolerable  justice  to  him. 
 
 He  had  repeated  applications  from  the  directors  of  the  princi- 
 pal charitable  societies  of  the  country  to  take  journeys  and 
 collect  funds  for  their  respective  operations.  Of  the  first  of 
 these  applications  he  says — "  I  dislike  begging,  and  therefore 
 thought  I  must  go  ;  but  the  hopes  of  a  revival  pulled  me  back." 
 He,  however,  soon  after,  "made  a  beginning  by  visiting  a  few 
 towns,  the  result  of  which  did  not  encourage  him  to  proceed. 
 He  was  brought  into  circumstances  which  rendered  it  necessary 
 to  preach  ten  times  in  eight  days which  added  to  the  fatigue 
 of  riding  a  great  distance,  proved  too  much  for  his  strength,  and 
 compelled  him  to  relinquish  the  undertaking. 
 
 In  the  early  part  of  1819,  he  made  a  tour,  confined  chiefly  to 
 Essex  county,  Mass.,  in  behalf  of  the  American  Education  So- 
 ciety.* His  success  in  collecting  money,  though  as  great,  prob- 
 ably, as  his  employers  had  any  reason  to  anticipate,  did  not 
 equal  his  own  wishes.  It  was  no  slight  trial,  "  after  preaching 
 till  he  was  half  dead,  to  find  only  a  few  dollars  contributed,  and 
 then  be  obliged  to  retire,  and  he  awake,  brooding  over  his  ill 
 
 *  A  little  manuscript  volume  has  fallen  into  my  hands,  in  which  one  of  Mr. 
 Payson's  hearers  entered  his  texts  fi'om  time  to  time,  together  witli  some  of 
 the  leading  topics  of  his  discourses.  A  short  extract  will  show  the  apposite- 
 ness  of  his  subjects  to  tlie  circumstances  of  himself  and  his  congregation, 
 and  enable  the  reader  to  imagine  tlie  additional  force  and  impressiveness 
 which  his  instructions  hence  derived :  — 
 
 "  Jan.  24,  1819.  In  the  afternoon,  Mr.  Payson,  preparatory  to  leaving  town 
 on  a  mission  to  the  counties  of  Essex  and  Middlesex,  in  the  service  of  the 
 American  Education  Society,  preached  from  these  words :  — 
 
 '  Now  I  beseech  you,  brethren,  for  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ's  sake,  and  for 
 the  love  of  the  Spirit,  that  ye  strive  togetlier  with  me  in  your  prayers  to  Cod 
 for  me,  that  I  may  be  delivered  from  them  that  do  not  believe  in  Judea ;  and 
 that  my  service  which  1  have  for  Jerusalem,  may  be  accepted  of  the  saints ; 
 that  1  may  come  to  you  with  joy  by  the  will  of  God,  aiid  may  with  you  b« 
 refreshed.'  "—Rom.  xv.  30—32. 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 301 
 
 success  half  the  night."  His  actual  receipts,  however,  consti- 
 tuted but  a  small  part  of  the  advantage  which  the  society  real- 
 ized as  the  consequence  of  his  excursion.  By  such  an  advocate, 
 its  objects  and  its  claims  were  favorably  made  known  to  the 
 community ;  auxiliary  societies  were  formed,  and  promises  ob- 
 tained from  individuals  of  large  donations.  The  amount  of 
 good  which  he  accomplished  on  this  journey  cannot  be  estimat- 
 ed by  dollars  and  cents.  To  obtain  money,  was  with  him,  now 
 and  at  all  times,  a  very  subordinate  object.  It  was  his  great 
 desire  to  exert  an  influence  favorable  to  the  spiritual  welfare  of 
 ministers  and  churches  whom  he  visited.  "  I  labored  as  direct- 
 1}'"  as  I  dared,  to  persuade  all  the  ministers  where  I  went  to  ex- 
 pect a  revival,  and  talked  to  them  in  my  way  about  Christ." 
 His  unusual  manner  of  conversing  attracted  attention,  and 
 opened  to  his  brethren  new  ways  of  awakening  interest  in  the 
 subject  of  Christ  and  his  salvation.  His  prayers  produced  the 
 same  impression  which  they  always  had  on  strangers.  An 
 aged  minister  noticed  the  same  quality  in  his  prayers,  as  did 
 the  lay  visitor  at  the  Springs.  He  remarked,  after  hearing  them, 
 that  prayer  might  be  made  as  instructive  as  preaching ;  and 
 wrote  to  a  son  in  the  ministry,  to  have  Mr.  Payson  preach  for 
 him,  by  all  means,  and  especially  to  pray. 
 
 Mr.  Payson's  excursions,  from  time  to  time,  for  the  benefit  of 
 his  health,  were  the  means  of  making  him  personally  known  in 
 several  of  our  southern  cities,  as  well  as  in  New  England  and 
 New  York,  and  consequently,  of  extending  that  pious  influ- 
 ence which  he  ever  exerted  to  the  farthest  boundaries  of  our 
 land. 
 
 There  is  nothing  more  true,  in  theory,  than  that  a  minister  is 
 the  common  property  of  the  church  at  large,  rather  than  of  any 
 particular  division  of  the  church,  and  that  she  has  a  right  to  his 
 services  in  that  place,  which  will  afford  the  widest  scope  for  the 
 eff"ectual  and  useful  employment  of  his  peculiar  talents  and 
 qualifications.  But  various  causes  render  the  principle,  one 
 of  most  difficult  application.  Some  unhappy  consequences, 
 perhaps,  never  fail  to  follow  the  transfer  of  a  minister  from  one 
 church  to  another ;  and  no  slight  probability  of  increased  use- 
 fulness can  justify  such  removal.  In  order  that  such  a  change 
 may  bring  any  gain  to  the  church  general,  a  minister  must  do 
 much  more  good  in  his  new  situation,  than  he  did  in  that  which 
 
302 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 he  left ;  for  it  will  require  much  to  balance  the  certain  evils,  in- 
 separable from  his  removal.  When  a  pastor  is  established  in 
 the  affections  and  confidence  of  his  flock,  and  is  laboring  with 
 more  than  ordinary  zeal  and  success,  any  interference  from 
 abroad  must  be  regarded  as  a  hazardous  experiment.  There 
 may  be  much  of  selfishness  in  the  refusal  of  a  people  to  give 
 up  their  minister ;  but  certainly  not  more  than  there  is  in  those 
 who  wish  to  obtain  his  services  at  their  expense,  and  by  whose 
 solicitations  their  feelings  are  put  to  the  trial.  Else,  why  does 
 the  choice  of  rich  churches  never  fall  upon  any  but  ministers 
 of  established  popularity,  or  distinguished  for  their  success ; 
 while  many  others,  equal,  perhaps  superior,  in  moral  and  intel- 
 lectual worth,  are  placed  over  churches  by  whom  their  m.erits 
 are  not  appreciated,  and  who  only  need  a  change  of  situation 
 to  take  a  rank  among  the  most  useful  of  Christ's  ministers  l 
 The  "  call  "  of  a  church  to  the  pastor  of  a  sister  church  may  be 
 the  call  of  God ;  and  it  may  be  the  result  of  caprice,  of  parti-  , 
 ality,  of  pride,  or  other  selfish  passions.  Those  calls  are  most 
 entitled  to  consideration,  which  these  feelings  have  the  least 
 concern  in  producing.  The  guardians  of  our  public  seminaries 
 may  be  supposed,  from  their  situation,  to  have  no  private  feel- 
 ings or  partialities  to  gratify  by  their  appointments.  In  ordin- 
 ary cases,  they  can  have  little  inducement  to  act  for  any  other 
 than  the  general  good ;  and  that  will  be  a  dark  day  for  our 
 land,  when  these  institutions,  the  nurseries  of  learning  and  re- 
 ligion, whence  her  future  pillars  are  to  be  obtained,  shall  be 
 denied  their  claim  to  the  most  valuable  men  whom  the  church 
 can  furnish. 
 
 Much  disquiet  is  often  produced  in  a  parish  by  the  reported 
 intentions  and  informal  proposals  of  a  society  abroad,  to  "  get 
 away  their  minister,"  even  when  this  imprudent  agitation  of 
 the  subject  does  not  issue  in  a  formal  invitation.  The  second 
 church  in  Portland  had  much  experience  of  this  species  of  trial. 
 When  Park  street  Church,  in  Boston,  was  left  vacant  by  the 
 removal  of  Dr.  Griffin,  Mr.  Payson's  charge  had  unpleasant 
 apprehensions  of  losing  their  beloved  pastor.  It  is  in  allusion 
 to  this  time  that  he  says  in  a  letter — "  We  have  been  kept  in  a 
 fever  here,  all  this  winter,  by  perpetual  alarms  from  Boston. 
 Because  I  do  not  refuse  before  I  am  asked,  and  exclaim  loudly 
 against  going,  some  of  my  people  suspect  I  wish  to  go  I 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 303 
 
 wish  'Boston  folks'  would  be  content  with  being  'full  of  no- 
 tions' themselves,  and  not  fill  other  people's  heads  with  them." 
 It  must  greatly  endear  his  memory  to  his  surviving  flock,  to 
 learn  from  another  letter  what  were  his  secret  feelings  in  rela- 
 tion to  this  matter: — "My  people — I  never  knew  before  how 
 much  they  loved  me.  I  am  amazed  to  see  what  an  interest  God 
 has  given  me  in  the  affections  of  his  people,  and  even  of  sin- 
 ners. It  would  seem  Uke  tearing  off  limbs  to  leave  them.  In- 
 deed, I  see  not  how  it  is  possible,  humanly  speaking,  to  get 
 away  from  them.  I  have  not  yet  been  put  to  the  trial.  No  ap- 
 plication has  yet  been  made  from  B.,  though  much  has  been 
 said  about  it.  It  is  very  doubtful  whether  any  will  be  made. 
 I  feel  very  easy  about  it  myself,  but  the  church  are  in  great  trib- 
 ulation. Ever  since  it  was  first  talked  of,  I  have  taken  special 
 care  to  avoid  every  thing  which  might  tend,  either  directly  or 
 indirectly,  to  bring  it  about.  If  it  comes,  it  shall  be  none  of  my 
 seeking." 
 
 Several  years  after  this,  he  did,  with  the  full  consent  of  his 
 people,  take  up  a  temporary  residence  in  Boston,  and,  during 
 the  few  weeks  which  he  spent  there,  preached  to  crowded  as- 
 semblies, and  not  without  apparent  effect.  Though  the  work 
 which  his  friends  there  laid  out  for  him  was  too  much  for  his 
 strength,  he  was  wearied  with  solicitations  and  entreaties  to 
 visit  and  preach  in  the  neighboring  towns;  so  anxious  were 
 those  who  had  once  heard  him,  to  secure  for  their  friends  and 
 neighbors  a  participation  in  the  same  privilege ;  and  so  confident 
 were  their  hopes  that  he  would  be  the  instrument  of  awakening 
 a  general  concern  for  the  soul,  wherever  he  should  address  to 
 men  the  message  with  which  he  was  entrusted. 
 
 In  182.5,  at  the  organization  of  the  new  church  in  Hanover 
 street,  he  was  invited  to  take  the  pastoral  charge  of  it.  He 
 referred  the  call  to  his  own  church,  who  decided,  unanimously, 
 that  he  ought  not  to  accept  it —  a  decision  to  which  he  cheer- 
 fully acceded. 
 
 In  January  1826,  he  received  a  unanimous  call  from  the 
 church  in  Cedar-street,  New  York,  to  become  their  pastor.  This 
 call  he  promptly,  fully,  and  unequivocally  declined.  The  mo- 
 tives by  which  he  was  actuated,  may  be  seen  from  a  letter  to 
 his  mother,  written  a  few  days  afterwards.  All  classes  gave 
 him  full  credit  for  disinterestedness  in  his  conduct  on  this  occa- 
 sion. 
 
304 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "Portland,  Jan.  25,  1826. 
 "My  dear  mother:  —  Before  you  receive  this,  you  will,  prob- 
 ably have  heard  that  I  have  returned  a  negative  answer  to  the 
 invitation  from  the  (^^edar-street  church.  After  refusing  to  ac- 
 cept the  call  from  Boston,  I  could  not  do  otherwise.  If  I  had 
 gone  to  either  place,  I  must  have  gone  to  Boston ;  for  I  think 
 the  prospect  of  usefulness  there  is  greater,  all  things  considered 
 than  at  New  York.  Besides,  I  would  never  consent  to  become 
 the  pastor  of  any  church,  wiiose  members  had  not  heard  me 
 preach,  and  become  personally  acquainted  with  me.  I  have 
 not  the  least  doubt,  that,  had  I  complied  with  the  Cedar-street 
 invitation,  the  first  emotions  of  the  church  and  society,  on  hearing 
 me,  would  have  been  those  of  bitter  disappointment  and  regret. 
 It  is  true  that  a  removal  to  New  York,  were  I  fit  for  the  place, 
 would,  on  many  accounts,  have  been  very  gratifying.  I  felt  no 
 small  inclination  to  go.  I  should  like  exceedingly  to  be  near 
 you  and  my  other  relations.  I  should  also  like  a  milder  climate 
 than  this,  and  I  have  little  doubt  that  it  would  be  beneficial  to 
 my  health.  But  a  removal  would  be  death  to  my  reputation  in 
 this  part  of  the  country  ;  I  mean  my  Christian  reputation  ;  and, 
 what  is  far  Avorse,  it  would  bring  great  reproach  upon  religion. 
 At  present,  my  worst  enemies,  and  the  worst  enemies  of  religion, 
 seem  disposed  to  allow  that  I  am  sincere,  upright,  and  vminflu- 
 enced  by  those  motives  which  govern  worldly-minded  men. 
 But  had  I  gone  to  Boston,  and,  much  more,  should  I  now  go  to 
 New  York,  tliey  would  at  once  triumphantly  exclaim,  'Ah! 
 they  are  all  alike;  all  governed  by  worldly  motives;  they  preach 
 against  the  love  of  money,  and  the  love  of  applause,  but  they 
 will  gratify  either  of  those  passions,  when  a  fair  opportunity 
 offers.'  Now,  I  had  much  rather  die,  than  give  them  an  occa- 
 sion thus  to  speak  reproachfully.  It  would  be  overthrowing  all 
 which  1  have  been  laboring  to  build  up.  Indeed,  I  can  see  no 
 reason  why  God  should  sufier  these  repeated  invitations  to  be 
 sent  to  me,  unless  it  be  to  giye  me  an  opportunity  to  show  the 
 world  that  all  ministers  are  not  actuated  by  mercenary  or  ambi- 
 tious views.  I  have  already  some  reason  to  believe,  that  my 
 refusal  to  accept  the  two  calls  has  done  more  to  convince  the 
 enemies  of  religion,  that  there  is  a  reality  in  it,  than  a  thousand 
 sermons  would  have  done.  However  this  may  be,  I  have  done 
 what  I  thought  to  be  duty.    If  I  ever  felt  desirous  to  know 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 305 
 
 the  will  of  God,  and  Avilling  to  obey  it,  it  has  been  in  reference 
 to  these  two  cases.  Conld  I  have  had  reason  to  believe,  that  it 
 was  his  will,  I  would  very  gladly  have  gone  either  to  Boston  or 
 to  New  York.  But,  at  present,  I  believe  that  it  was  his  will 
 that  I  should  remain  where  I  am.  Not  that  I  am  of  any  use 
 here ;  but  though  I  can  do  no  good,  I  would  if  possible,  avoid 
 doing  harm." 
 
 But  little  more  than  a  month  elapsed  before  the  invitation  of 
 the  Cedar-street  church  was  repeated.  Some  changes  in  his 
 circumstances  led  him  to  deliberate,  for  a  time,  whether  this 
 second  invitation  might  not  be  the  call  of  Providence.  He  con- 
 sidered the  obstacles,  which  had  opposed  his  removal,  as  di- 
 minished. The  church  ui  Hanover  street — supposing  that  he 
 might  possibly  be  deterred  from  complying  with  this  invitation, 
 by  the  fact  that  he  had  so  recently  declined  a  call  from  them — 
 passed  a  resolve,  with  a  view  to  remove  any  difficulties  which 
 that  circumstance  might  have  thrown  in  his  way,  and  wrote  a 
 letter,  urging  him  to  act  just  as  he  should  if  he  had  never  re- 
 ceived an  invitation  from  them.  This  amounted  very  nearly  to 
 the  expression  of  an  opinion,  that  it  was  his  duty  to  go.  He 
 was  evidently  much  perplexed.  On  the  one  hand,  he  feared 
 "  doing  wrong,  and  offending  God,  by  running  before  he  was 
 sent."  On  the  other  hand,  the  circumstances  attendmg  his 
 reception  of  the  call,  "  induced  him  to  believe  that  it  might, 
 possibly,  be  the  call  of  God  ;  and  he  could  not  again  decline  it, 
 until  he  had  taken  time  for  prayer  and  deliberation."  "  I  have 
 ample  reaason,"  he  writes  to  the  commissioners  who  tendered 
 the  invitation,  "  to  believe  that  God  placed  me  in  my  present 
 situation  ;  and  I  must,  therefore,  be  convinced  that  he  calls  me 
 away,  before  I  can  consent  to  leave  it.  That  he  does  call  me 
 away,  I  am  not  yet  convinced  ;  though  I  admit  it  to  be  possible." 
 
 After  having  been  long  agitated  by  the  perplexing  question, 
 it  was,  at  length,  referred  to  a  council,  mutually  chosen  by  him- 
 self and  his  church.  To  the  council  it  proved  almost  as  tedious 
 and  trying  as  it  had  to  him.  They  were  reluctant  to  decide 
 against  his  removal,  thinking  it  possible,  that  a  change  of  cli- 
 mate and  situation,  together  with  the  diminished  necessity  of 
 study,  might  recruit  the  wasted  energies  of  his  body,  and  pro- 
 long, for  the  benefit  of  the  church,  his  most  valuable  and  useful 
 
 VOL.  I.  39 
 
306 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 life.  On  the  other  hand,  they  found  difficulties  in  the  way  of 
 recommending  his  removal,  which  they  were  not  able  to  sur- 
 mount, the  principal  of  which  was  his  want  of  a  full  and  de- 
 cided conviction  of  personal  duty  in  the  case.  They  could, 
 therefore,  only  advise,  that,  if  such  should  be  his  conviction, 
 and  he  should  make  it  known  to  his  church,  they  would  consent 
 to  part  with  him. 
 
 To  this  state  his  mind  had  nearly  approached,  when  its  pro- 
 gress towards  conviction  was  arrested  and  its  purpose  changed 
 by  increased  illness.  Symptoms  of  pulmonary  aftection,  added 
 to  his  other  maladies,  excited  apprehensions  that  his  labors  on 
 earth  were  nearly  terminated — apprehensions  which,  alas  ! 
 proved  to  be  but  too  well  founded.  In  May  following,  by  the 
 advice  of  friends  and  physicians,  he  tried  very  thoroughly  the 
 experiment  of  riding  on  horseback,  by  making  a  journey  through 
 the  interior  of  Maine,  New  Hampshire,  Massachusetts,  and 
 Connecticut,  to  New  York  city,  and  thence  to  the  Springs, 
 where  his  mind  was  disturbed  by  a  third  application  to  take  the 
 charge  of  the  Cedar-street  church,  accompanied  with  most 
 pressing  letters  and  messages  from  clergymen  and  others. 
 Though  this  was  declined  without  much  hesitation,  yet  in  the 
 excitable  state  of  his  nerves,  and  his  universal  weakness  of 
 body,  it  was  injurious  to  his  welfare,  and,  combined  with  other 
 causes,  prevented  his  deriving  any  benefit  from  his  journey  and 
 an  absence  of  two  months. 
 
 "  The  peculiar  trials  of  mind,"  writes  the  Rev.  Mr.  Whelpley, 
 with  whom  he  took  lodgings,  —  "The  peculiar  trials  of  mind 
 he  had  passed  through,  in  consequence  of  the  invitations  he 
 received  to  New  York  and  Boston,  well  nigh  broke ^ him  down, 
 as  he  expressed  it,  and  greatly  aggravated  his  complaints  and 
 sutferings ;  and  he  had  hoped  to  experience  no  more  trouble 
 from  this  quarter.  But  no  sooner  was  it  known  in  New  York, 
 that  he  was  at  the  Springs,  than  fresh  overtures  were  sent  to 
 him.  '  1  wonder,'  said  he,  •  that  this  people  will  thus  pursue  a 
 dying  man.  I  cannot  help  them  or  myself  I  have  no  doubt, 
 from  various  expressions  of  his,  that  the  great  efforts  made  to 
 effect  his  translation  to  a  new  field  of  labor,  proved  too  much 
 for  his  weak  frame,  and  hastened  his  dissolution." 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 307 
 
 The  language  ascribed  to  Mr.  Payson,  in  the  preceding  extract, 
 is  descriptive  of  his  own  weakness,  and  expresses  his  settled 
 conviction  of  the  desperate  condition  of  his  health,  and  not  any- 
 intended  censure  of  the  people  who  were  so  perseveringly  solic- 
 itous to  secure  his  services.  He  could  fully  appreciate  their 
 motives.  But  they  knew  not  how  delicate  and  susceptible  were 
 his  feelings;  nor  did  they  know  how  nearly  exhausted  in  him, 
 Avere  the  springs  of  life.  Doubtless  their  wishes  had  so  far 
 affected  their  judgment,  as  to  create  the  confident  expectation, 
 that  a  removal  to  a  new  field  of  action  would  be  the  means  of 
 restoring  and  establishing  his  health.  But  it  was  already  gone 
 past  recovery. 
 
 That  he  was  held  in  as  high  estimation  by  the  great  and  good, 
 as  by  Christians  in  the  ordinary  walks  of  life,  is  obvious  from 
 the  fact,  that  he  was,  in  1821,  requested  by  persons  having  some 
 control  in  the  appointment,  to  say  whether  he  would  accept  a 
 professorship  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover,  if  elected 
 to  the  office.  But  he  refused  "at  once,  and  positively,  on  the 
 score  of  not  possessing  the  requisite  qualifications.  Had  I  been 
 suitably  qualified,  I  am  not  certain  that  I  should  not  have 
 thought  it  my  duty  to  go." 
 
CHAPTER  XVII. 
 
 Letters  to  persons  in  various  circumstances  and  states  of  mind. 
 
 Though  Mr.  Payson  was  eminently  felicitous  in  adapting  his 
 public  discourses  to  the  wants  and  characters  of  a  promiscuous 
 assembly,  he  was,  if  possible,  still  more  so,  in  suiting  his  coun- 
 sels, instructions,  and  appeals,  to  the  cases  of  individuals.  But 
 these  dictates  of  his  sanctified  understanding  and  ardently 
 affectionate  heart,  are  mostly  lost ;  and  their  place  can  be  sup- 
 plied only  by  a  selection  from  his  letters,  written  to  persons  vari- 
 ously situated  and  affected,  —  which,  though  both  interesting 
 and  instructive,  are  far  inferior  in  imagery,  appositeness,  and 
 effect,  to  his  viva  voce  instructions. 
 
 To  his  mother  under  affliction  of  spirit : 
 
 "  My  dearest  mother  : — Never  di'd  I  more  ardently  wish  to 
 impart  consolation,  and  never  did  I  feel  so  utterly  powerless  to 
 do  it.  You  say  yourself,  that  neither  reason  nor  religion  can 
 restrain  your  tormenting  imagination.  What  encouragement, 
 then,  have  I  to  attempt  to  comfort  you  under  the  evils  it  occa- 
 sions 7  I  wish  I  could  communicate  to  you  the  feelings  which 
 have  rendered  me  happy  for  some  weeks  past.  I  will  mention 
 the  texts  which  occasioned  them  ;  texts  on  which  I  have  preach- 
 ed lately.  Perhaps  the  great  Comforter  may  apply  them  to  you. 
 If  so,  you  will  little  need  any  consolation  which  I  can  give. 
 The  first  is  Isaiah  xxvi.  20.  The  time  of  our  continuance  on 
 earth  is  but  a  moment ;  nay,  it  is  but  a  little  moment.  Sup- 
 pose, then,  the  worst.  Suppose  all  the  evils  which  imagination 
 can  paint,  should  come  upon  you.  7'hey  will  endure  only  for 
 a  little  moment ;  and,  while  this  little  moment  is  passing  away. 
 
MEMOIR    OF    EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 309 
 
 you  may  run  and  hide  in  the  chambers  of  protection,  which 
 God  has  provided  for  his  people,  till  the  mansions  preparing  for 
 them  above  are  ready  for  their  reception.  O,  then,  my  dear 
 mother,  glory  in  these  afflictions,  which  endure  but  for  a  mo- 
 ment. O,  how  near,  how  very  near,  is  eternity.  It  is  even  at 
 the  door. 
 
 ."  New-year's  Sabbath,  I  preached  on  this  text,  '  As  the  Lord 
 liveth,  there  is  but  a  step  between  me  and  death.'  One  infer- 
 ence was,  there  is  but  a  step  between  Christians  and  heaven. 
 So  it  has  seemed  to  me  almost  ever  since.  Another  text,  which 
 I  have  preached  on  lately,  and  which  has  been  much  blessed  to 
 me,  is  Rev.  xxi.  23  '  And  the  city  has  no  need  of  the  sun,' 
 6cci  0,  how  unutterably  glorious  did  heaven  appear !  It  is 
 glory ;  it  is  a  weight  of  glory ;  an  exceeding  weight  of  glory  ; 
 a  far  more  exceeding  weight  of  glory;  a  far  more  exceed- 
 ing and  eternal  weight  of  glory.  O,  how  shall  we  bear 
 such  a  v/eight  of  glory  as  this  !  How  shall  we  wait  with 
 patience  till  we  arrive  at  it !  O,  it  seems  too  much ;  too 
 boundless,  too  overwhelming  to  think  of  Come  afflictions ; 
 come  troubles  ;  come  trials,  temptations,  distresses  of  every  kind 
 and  degree  ;  make  our  path  through  life  as  painful,  as  wearisome 
 as  you  can ;  still,  if  heaven  is  at  the  end  of  it,  we  will  smile  at 
 all  you  can  do.  My  dear  mother,  break  away ;  O  that  God 
 would  enable  you  to  break  away  from  all  your  cares  and  sor- 
 rows, and  fly,  rise,  soar  up  to  the  New  Jerusalem.  See  its 
 diamond  walls,  its  golden  streets,  its  pearly  gates,  its  shining 
 inhabitants,  all  in  a  blaze  with  reflected  light  and  glory,  the 
 hght  of  God,  the  glory  of  the  Lamb !  Say  with  David,  To- 
 ward this  city  I  will  go  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord  God ;  I  will 
 make  mention  of  thy  righteousness,  even  of  thine  only.  My 
 mother,  what  a  righteousness  is  this?  The  righteousness  of 
 God  !  A  righteousness  as  much  better  than  that  of  Adam,  nay, 
 than  that  of  angels,  as  God  is  better  than  his  creatures.  Since, 
 then,  my  dear  mother,  you  have  such  a  heaven  before  you ; 
 such  a  righteousness  to  entitle  you  to  heaven  ;  and  such  blessed 
 chambers  to  hide  in,  during  the  little  moment  which  separates 
 you  from  heaven, — dry  up  your  tears,  banish  your  anxieties, 
 leave  sorrow  and  sighing  to  those  who  have  no  such  blessings 
 in  store  or  reversion,  and  sing,  sing,  as  Noah  sat  secure  in  the 
 ark,  and  sang  'the  grace  that  steered  him  through.' 
 
310 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 ******* 
 
 '  I  would  urge  father  to  be  more  careful  of  himself,  if  I  thought 
 it  would  do  any  good ;  but  it  will  not.  The  nearer  he  gets  to 
 his  sun,  his  centre,  the  end  of  his  course,  the  faster  he  will  fly, 
 and  you  cannot  stop  him.  Catch  hold  of  him,  and  fly  with 
 him,  and  I  will  come  panting  after  as  fast  as  I  can." 
 
 To  a  kinsman,  in  an  important  crisis  of  his  religious  experi  - 
 ence : — 
 
  "  In  your  present  situation,  and  for  some  time  to  come, 
 
 your  greatest  difficulty  will  be,  to  maintain  the  daily  perform- 
 ance of  closet  duties.  On  your  maintaining  that  part,  the  fate 
 of  the  whole  battle  will  turn.  This  your  great  adversary  well 
 knows.  He  knows,  that  if  he  can  beat  you  out  of  the  closet, 
 he  shall  have  you  in  his  own  power.  You  Avill  be  in  the  situa- 
 tion of  an  army  cut  off'  from  supplies  and  re-inforcements,  and 
 will  be  obliged  either  to  capitulate,  or  to  surrender  at  discretion. 
 He  will,  therefore,  leave  no  means  untried  to  drive  or  draw  you 
 from  the  closet.  And  it  will  be  hard  work  to  maintain  that  post 
 against  him  and  your  own  heart.  Sometimes  he  will  probably 
 assail  you  with  more  violence,  when  you  attempt  to  read  or 
 pray  than  at  any  other  time ;  and  thus  try  to  persuade  you  that 
 prayer  is  rather  injurious  than  beneficial.  At  other  times,  he 
 will  withdraw,  and  be  quiet,  lest,  if  he  should  distress  you  with 
 his  temptation,  you  might  be  driven  to  the  throne  of  grace  for 
 help.  If  he  can  prevail  upon  us  to  be  careless  and  stupid,  he 
 will  rarely  distress  us.  He  will  not  disturb  a  false  peace, 
 because  it  is  a  peace  of  which  he  is  the  author.  But  if  he  can- 
 not succeed  in  lulling  us  asleep,  he  will  do  all  in  his  power  to 
 distress  us.  And  when  he  is  permitted  to  do  this,  and  the  Holy 
 Spirit  withdraws  his  sensible  aid  and  consolations ;  when, 
 though  we  cry  and  shout,  God  seems  to  shut  out  our  prayers,- - 
 it  is  by  no  means  easy  to  be  constant  in  secret  duties.  Indeed, 
 it  is  always  most  difficult  to  attend  to  them  when  they  are  most 
 necessary.  But  never  mind.  Your  Lord  and  Master  is  looking 
 on.  He  notices,  he  accepts,  and  he  will  reward  every  struggle. 
 Besides,  in  the  Christian  warfare,  to  maintain  the  conflict,  is  to 
 gain  the  victory.  The  promise  is  made  to  him  that  endures  to 
 the  end.    The  object  of  our  spiritual  adversaries,  then,  is  to 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 311 
 
 prevent  us  from  enduring  to  the  end.  If  they  fail  of  effecting 
 this  object,  they  are  defeated.  Every  day  in  which  you  are 
 preserved  from  going  back,  they  sustain  a  defeat.  And  if,  by 
 praying  yesterday,  you  gained  strength  enough  to  pray  to-day; 
 and  if,  by  praying  to-day,  you  gain  strength  enough  to  pray 
 again  to-morrow,  you  have  cause  for  thankfulness.  If  the  food 
 which  you  take  every  day  nourishes  you  for  one  day  you  are 
 satisfied.  You  do  not  expect  that  the  food  you  ate  yesterday 
 will  nourish  you  to-day.  Do  not  complain,  then,  if  you  find  it 
 necessary  to  ask  every  day  for  fresh  supplies  of  spiritual  nour- 
 ishment ;  and  do  not  think  your  prayers,  are  unanswered,  so 
 long  as  you  are  enabled  to  struggle  on,  even  though  it  should  be 
 with  pain  and  difficulty.  Every  day  I  see  more  clearly  how 
 great  a  mercy  it  is  to  be  kept  from  open  sin  and  from  complete 
 apostacy.    If  you  are  thus  kept,  be  thankful  for  it." 
 
 To  a  gentleman  in  a  neighboring  state,  whose  hospitality  he 
 liad  enjoyed  while  on  a  journey  for  his  health,  and  who  ha? 
 since  yielded  to  the  expostulations  of  his  reverend  friend,  and  is 
 now  numbered  with  the  people  of  God  : — 
 
 "  The  unvarying  kindness  and  hospitality  with  which  I  was 
 treated  while  at  your  house,  has  left  an  impression  upon  my 
 mind,  and  laid  m.e  under  obligations,  which,  I  trust,  Avill  never 
 be  forgotten.  In  addition  to  this,  the  apparent  interest  with 
 which  you  listened  to  remarks  on  religious  subjects,  and  your 
 request  that  I  would  write  to  you  and  pray  for  you,  have  led 
 me  to  feel  a  more  than  ordinary  concern  for  your  future  welfare. 
 It  is  this  which  induces  me  to  write — yet  I  must  confess  that  I 
 write  with  trembling.  The  numerous  instances  in  which  I 
 have  seen  religious  impressions  fade  away,  lead  me  to  fear  that, 
 ere  this,  the  subject  may  have  ceased  to  appear  interesting  to 
 you,  and  that  you  will  not  thank  me  for  troubling  you  with  this 
 letter.  But  I  will,  for  the  present,  hope  better  things,  and,  under 
 the  influence  of  such  a  hope,  will  venture  to  write.  Yet  what 
 shall  I  say,  ignorant  as  T  am  of  the  present  state  of  your  mind, 
 and,  of  course,  equally  ignorant  of  what  it  requires?  I  have 
 been  imploring  that  omnipresent  Being,  who  is  perfectly  ac- 
 quainted with  it.  to  guide  my  pen,  and  lead  me  to  Avrite  some- 
 thing whicli  may  prove  '  a  word  in  season.'  Should  he  grant 
 mc  this,  it  would  be  a  favor  indeed. 
 
312 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "  Perhaps  I  ought  to  address  you  as  a  Christian.  Perhaps 
 you  have,  ere  this,  become  a  cordial,  decided  disciple  of  Christ. 
 I  am  not  entirely  without  hope  that  this  is  the  case.  Few 
 things  could  give  me  more  pleasure  than  to  be  assured  that  it  is 
 no.  If  it  is,  you  will  need  no  exhortations  from  me  to  pursue  a 
 course  which  you  have  already  found  to  be  '  ways  of  pleasant- 
 ness and  paths  of  peace.'  If  it  is,  you  have  already  '  tasttd 
 and  seen  that  the  Lord  is  good ;'  you  know  his  goodness,  not 
 speculatively,  or  by  report  merely,  but  experimentally  ;  and  you 
 can  address  the  Saviour  in  the  language  of  Peter — 'I  believe 
 and  am  sure  that  thou  art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God.' 
 But,  if  this  is  not  the  case,  if  your  mind  remains  in  the  same 
 state  in  which  I  left  it,  the  following  hints  may  possibly  prove 
 serviceable : — 
 
 "  God,  as  a  Avise  Being,  employs  means  and  instruments 
 suited  to  the  work  which  he  designs  to  perform.  He  never 
 employs  powerful  means,  or  dignified  agents,  to  effect  a  work 
 which  might  as  well  be  effected  by  weak  means  and  feeble 
 agents.  He  would  not  employ  an  angel  to  do  the  work  of  a 
 man  ;  he  woidd  not  send  his  only  Son  to  perform  works  which 
 did  not  transcend  the  powers  of  an  angel.  Hence  we  may  in- 
 fer, that,  if  men  or  angels  could  have  effected  the  work  of  man's 
 redemption,  God  would  not  have  employed  his  own  Son  to 
 effect  it ;  and,  if  that  Son  could  have  effected  it  in  any  easier 
 way  than  by  dying  on  the  cross,  he  would  never  have  consent- 
 ed to  die  in  that  manner.  Consider,  then,  my  dear  sir,  how 
 great  a  work  this  must  have  been.  To  creafe  the  world  cost 
 Jesus  Christ  but  six  days ;  but  to  redeetn  the  world  cost  him 
 thirty-three  years,  spent  in  poverty  and  labor,  and  the  shedding 
 of  his  own  blood.  How  great,  then,  must  have  been  the  evils 
 from  which  he  did  all  this  to  redeem  us  !  How  terrible  must 
 be  the  situation  of  sinners,  since  he  suffered  so  much  to  rescue 
 them  from  it !  From  the  dignity  of  the  Physician,  and  the 
 costliness  of  the  remedy,  we  may  learn  how  dangerous,  how 
 desperate,  was  the  disease.  Only  let  a  man  say,  with  firm  con- 
 viction,— '  My  situation  was  so  dangerous,  so  hopeless,  that 
 nothing  less  than  the  incarnation  and  death  of  God's  eternal 
 Son  could  save  me  from  it,'  and  he  will  scarcely  remain  at  rest 
 until  he  has  secured  salvation.  He  will  not,  cannot  rest  in  a 
 situation  so  dangerous. 
 
EDWARD    PA YSON. 
 
 313 
 
 "  But  these  facts  and  inferences,  obvious  as  they  are,  we  are 
 prone  to  overlook.  There  is  a  species  of  religion  wlaich  appears 
 to  us  much  more  rational  and  agreeable  than  the  doctrines  of 
 the  cross.  It  is,  indeed,  little  better  than  deism  ;  for  Christ  has 
 almost  no  place  in  it.  It  may,  tlierefore,  be  useful  to  attend  to 
 such  passages  as  these : — '  All  men  shall  honor  the  Son,  even  as 
 they  honor  the  Father :' — '  He  that  honoreth  not  the  Son,  hon- 
 oreth  not  the  Father :' — '  He  that  denieth  the  Son  hath  not  the 
 Father.'  Christ  says — 'No  man  cometh  to  the  Father  but  by 
 me  :' — '  In  him  dwells  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily.' 
 Now,  if  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  dwells  in  Christ,  no  man 
 can  obtain  any  portion  of  that  fulness  Avithout  applying  to 
 Christ.  In  a  word,  Christ's  language  is — '  Without  me  ye  can 
 do  nothing.'  Never,  then,  shall  we  do  any  thing  successfully 
 in  religion,  unless  we  apply  for  and  obtain  assistance.  We 
 must  begin  with  Christ.  He  is  the  Author  and  Finisher  of  our 
 Faith. 
 
 "I  have  written  at  random,  and  in  the  dark  respecting  youx 
 present  feelings.  I  can  scarcely  hope  that  these  broken  hints 
 will  be  of  any  service.  But  they  will,  at  least,  serve  as  a  proof 
 that  I  have  not  forgotten  your  kindness,  and  that  I  feel  an  in- 
 terest in  your  welfare.  This  interest  is  deeper  than  you  are, 
 perhaps,  aAvare.  It  would  gratify  me  much  to  hear  from  you, 
 and  still  more  to  hear  that  you  are  rejoicing  in  the  truth.  Be 
 pleased  to  remember  me  respectfully  and  affectionately  to  Mrs. 
 
  .    I  have  not  forgotten  her  kindness.    Our  journey,  after 
 
 we  left  you,  was  tolerably  pleasant,  but  of  little  service  to  my 
 health.  *****  May  we  all  meet  in  heaven,  is  the 
 frequent  prayer  of  Yours  sincerely." 
 
 To  a  distant  lady,  in  whose  piety  he  had  full  confidence,  but 
 who  was  much  discouraged  respecting  herself:  — 
 
 "  My  dear  MRS.  : — What  a  task  you  have  imposed  on 
 
 me  !  You  require  me  to  write  you  a  letter  which  shall  make 
 you  feel,  and  yet  you  tell  me  that  the  Bible,  the  letter  which 
 God  himself  has  sent  to  you  from  heaven,  does  not  make  you 
 feel.  If  I  believed  this  to  be  the  case,  could  I  Avrite  with  any 
 hope  of  success"?  Could  I  hope  to  affect  a  heart  which  a  mes- 
 sage from  heaven  does  not  affect  ?    But  I  do  not,  cannot  believe 
 
 VOL.  I.  40 
 
314 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 that  this  message  has  failed  to  affect  you.  Your  letter  to  Mrs. 
 P.  contains  proof  that  it  has  not.  In  that  letter  you  say — '  I 
 hate  myself  while  I  write.'  But  hatred  of  one's  self,  or  jelf-ab- 
 horrence,  is  one  of  the  constituent  parts  of  true  repentPiice.  No 
 one  but  the  real  penitent,  no  one  who  is  not  a  Christian,  hates 
 himself.  He  who  abhors  himself  sees  and  feels  it  to  be  right 
 that  God  should  abhor  him.  He  can,  accordingly,  take  part 
 with  God  against  himself — justify  God  while  he  reproaches 
 and  condemns  himself  And  he  who  can  do  this  is  prepared  to 
 embrace  the  gospel,  to  receive  it  as  glad  tidings  of  great  joy. 
 Are  you  not  then,  my  dear  madam,  proved  to  be  a  Christian  out 
 of  your  own  mouth  ?  If  you  do  not  choose  to  yield  to  proof 
 from  that  source,  let  me  request  you  to  come  with  me  to  the 
 mount  of  transfiguration.  We  may,  like  the  disciples,  feel 
 emotions  of  fear  as  we  enter  the  bright  cloud  which  overshad- 
 ows it,  but  we  have  no  reason  to  entertain  such  emotions.  Now 
 contemplate  liim  who  stood  on  the  summit,  in  the  midst  of  this 
 bright  cloud.  See  his  countenance  shining  like  the  sun,  and  his 
 raiment  white  as  the  light.  See  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead 
 dwelling  iu  him,  diffusing  itself  aroimd.  Hear  the  awful  voice 
 of  the  eternal  Father,  proclaiming — 'This is  my  beloved  Son, 
 in  v/hom  I  am  well  pleased ;  hear  ye  him.'  Recollect  all  that 
 you  have  heard  and  read  of  the  Being  before  you.  Think  of 
 his  power  to  save,  of  his  willingness  to  save,  of  his  delight  in 
 saving  sinners.  And  now,  what  does  your  heart  say  to  all  this? 
 What  reply  does  it  make  when  the  Saviour,  turning  upon  yoa 
 a  look  full  of  invitation,  benevolence,  and  compassion,  says  to 
 you  —  Fear  not,  Mary,  to  approach  me  ;  I  am  come  to  seek  and 
 to  save  that  which  was  lost ;  shall  I  save  thee  ?  Wilt  thou  con- 
 sent to  have  me  for  thy  Saviour  upon  my  own  terms  '?  Wilt 
 thou  believe  that  I  am  disposed  to  look  with  an  eye  of  pity  on 
 thy  struggles  against  sin,  and  to  assist  thee  in  overcoming  it  ? 
 W  ilt  thou  believe  that  I  can  bear  with  thee,  forgive  thee,  have 
 patience  with  thee,  and  never  be  Aveary  of  instructing  thee,  re- 
 claiming thee,  and  leading  thee  forward  in  the  way  to  heaven  ? 
 And  now,  my  dear  madam,  let  me  ask,  once  more.  What  reply 
 does  your  heart  make  to  this  language  7  Does  it  not  say  with 
 Peter. — '  Lord,  it  is  good  to  be  here  ' — it  is  good  to  sit  at  thy 
 feet,  and  hear  thy  word  ;  I  believe,  I  am  sure,  that  thou  art  the 
 Christ,  the  Sou  of  the  living  God  ?     If  this  is  the  language  of 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 315 
 
 your  heart,  he  does,  in  effect,  say  to  you  — '  Blessed  art  thou, 
 Mary  Ann ;  for  flesh  and  blood  have  not  revealed  this  unto 
 thee,  but  my  Father,  who  is  in  heaven.'  Blessed  art  thou,  for 
 thou  hast  chosen  the  good  part,  and  it  shall  never  be  taken 
 from  thee.  But  perhaps  you  will  say — for  you  have  to  dispute 
 against  yourself — '  I  believe  nothing,  feel  nothing,  of  all  this.' 
 Let  me,  then,  make  another  trial.  St.  Paul,  speaking  of  ancient 
 believers,  says — 'If  they  had  been  mindful  of  the  country 
 whence  they  came  out,  they  might  have  had  opportunity  to  re- 
 turn thither ;  but  they  desired  another  country,  even  a  heaven- 
 ly ;  wherefore,  God  is  not  ashamed  to  be  called  their  God.' 
 Now  permit  me  to  apply  this  passage  to  your  case.  If  you  are 
 mindful  of  the  world,  if  you  wish  to  return  to  that  careless,  sin- 
 ful state  of  conformity  to  it,  from  which  you  are  professedly 
 come  out,  you  have  opportunity  to  return  to  it ;  there  is  nothing 
 to  prevent  you.  But  can  you  say  that  you  wish  to  return  7 
 Can  you  deny  that  you  desire  a  better  country,  even  a  heavenly? 
 If  you  do  desire  it,  if  you  have  no  wish  to  return  to  the  service 
 of  sin,  then  God  is  not  ashamed  to  be  called  your  God  ;  and  if 
 he  is  not  ashamed  to  be  called  your  God,  then  you  ought  not  to 
 be  afraid  to  call  him  so ;  but  ought  to  approach  him  with  confi- 
 dence, crying,  '  my  Father  !  my  God  !'  " 
 
 To  a  young  female  member  of  his  church,  obviating  an  erro- 
 neous inference  from  her  want  of  sensible  enjoyment  in  Chris- 
 tian ordinances. 
 
 "  You  appear  to  speak  in  several  places,  as  if  you  imagined 
 that  the  loss  of  sensible  comfort  is  a  proof  that  God  is  displeas- 
 ed, and  that  it  is  intended  as  a  punishment  of  our  neglect.  This 
 is  the  only  idea  in  your  manuscript  which  I  do  not  consider  as 
 perfectly  correct.  I  believe  that  persons  may  sometimes  enjoy 
 the  light  of  God's  countenance,  when  he  is  far  from  being  pleas- 
 ed with  them ;  and  on  the  contrary,  that  they  may  long  walk 
 in  darkness  when  their  conduct  is  well  pleasing  in  his  sight. 
 But  this  is  too  copious  a  subject  to  be  discussed  in  a  letter.  We 
 will  talk  of  it  hereafter. 
 
 Nothing  appears  to  perplex  you  more  than  the  little  comfort 
 or  advantage,  which  you  derive  from  the  Lord's  Supper.  In 
 this  respect  however,  your  case  is  less  singular  than  you  may 
 
316 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 suppose.  A  few  days  since  I  was  conversing  with  a  professor 
 of  six  or  seven  years'  standing,  whom  I  have  every  reason  to 
 look  upon  as  a  Christian,  who  never  enjoyed  a  single  commu- 
 nion until  within  two  months  past.  I  have  met  with  other  similar 
 instances. 
 
 "  If  I  may  judge  from  a  view  of  the  state  of  your  mind  as 
 here  dcscrihed,  I  should  say  that  your  difficulties  principally 
 arise  from  strong  temptations  addressed  to  your  conscience  ; 
 temptations  which  lead  you  continually  to  contemplate  your 
 own  sinfulness,  guilt  and  wretchedness,  and  to  doubt  your  right 
 to  take  hold  on  the  promises  of  the  gospel.  You  recollect  the 
 woman  whom  Satan  had  bound  for  eighteen  years,  in  such  a 
 manner  that  she  could  not  lift  herself  up.  In  the  same  manner 
 he  often  binds  Christians,  by  temptations  addressed  to  the  con- 
 science, so  that  they  can  only  look  down  into  themselves,  and 
 cannot  lift  themselves  up  to  contemplate  Christ.  But  this  por- 
 ing upon  our  own  wretchedness  will  never  afford  us  relief,  any 
 more  than  the  Israelites  could  derive  relief,  when  bitten  by  the 
 fiery  serpents,  from  poring  upon  the  number  and  depth  of  their 
 wounds." 
 
 The  following  letter  of  condolence  to  his  bereaved  parents 
 contains  some  reminiscences  of  a  most  valuable  woman,  which 
 ought  to  be  preserved,  and  which  will  be  gladly  recognised  by 
 great  numbers,  to  whom  she  was  endeared  by  "  the  good  works 
 and  alms-deeds  which  she  did  :"  — 
 
 ='May  4,  1818. 
 
 "  My  dear  afflicted  parents  :  —  You  will  probably  hear  from 
 poor  brother  Rand,  before  you  receive  this  letter,  that  you  have 
 one  child  less  on  earth,  to  comfort  you  in  the  decline  of  life  ; 
 that  dear,  dear  Grata  has  gone  before  you  to  heaven.  I  cannot 
 hope  to  console  you  ;  but  I  do  hope  that  your  surviving  children 
 will  feel  bound  to  do  every  thing  in  their  power  to  make  up 
 your  loss,  by  increased  filial  affection,  and  concern  for  your 
 happiness.  I  cannot  mourn  for  Grata.  How  much  suffering 
 of  body  and  mind  has  she  escaped  by  her  early  departure  !  But 
 I  mourn  for  poor  brother  Rand,  for  his  motherless  children,  and 
 for  you.  It  would  be  some  consolation  to  you,  could  you  know 
 how  much  she  was  beloved,  how  greatly  her  loss  is  lamented, 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 317 
 
 how  much  good  she  did,  and  how  loudly  she  is  praised  by  all 
 who  knew  her.  I  doubt  not  that  hundreds  mourn  for  her,  and 
 feel  her  loss  almost  or  quite  as  much  as  do  her  relatives.  Mr. 
 H.,  who  preached  her  funeral  sermon,  gave  her  a  most  exalted 
 character;  and  a  young  lady,  who  resided  a  few  weeks  in  Mr. 
 Rand's  family,  speaks  of  her,  every  where,  as  the  most  faultless 
 person  with  whom  she  was  ever  acquainted. 
 
 "  Many,  many  prayers  have  been  offered  up,  both  here  and 
 at  Gorham,  that  you  may  be  supported  and  comforted,  when 
 the  tidings  reach  you ;  and  I  hope  and  trust  they  will  be  an- 
 swered. Thanks  be  to  God,  that  you  are  loved  and  blessed  by 
 many  who  never  saw  you,  on  account  of  your  children.  Mr. 
 Rand  feels  great  hopes  that  her  loss  will  be  blessed  to  his  church 
 and  people ;  and  that  she  will  do  more  good  in  her  death,  than 
 she  has  done  in  her  life ;  and  from  what  I  saw  at  the  funeral,  I 
 cannot  but  indulge  similar  hopes.  You  will  wish  to  know  how 
 he  bears  the  loss ;  but  I  can  hardly  tell.  When  I  saw  him,  he 
 had  been  in  a  state  of  confusion,  and  surrounded  by  his  mourn- 
 ing people,  from  the  moment  of  her  death  ;  so  that,  as  he  more 
 than  once  observed,  he  could  scarcely  realize  that  she  was  dead, 
 or  tell  how  he  felt.  The  worst  is  yet  to  come  ;  but  I  doubt  not 
 he  will  be  supported.  I  hope,  too,  that  her  loss  will  do  me  some 
 good.  The  suddenness  of  her  departure  makes  the  other  world 
 appear  very  near  ;  and  she  seems  as  much,  and  even  more  alive, 
 than  she  did  before.  I  preached  with  reference  to  the  sub- 
 ject yesterday ;  and  could  not  but  hope  that  her  death  might 
 be  blessed  to  some  of  my  people,  or,  at  least,  to  some  of  the 
 church." 
 
 To  two  of  his  flock,  who,  in  their  absence  from  home,  were 
 to  receive,  with  this  letter,  the  afiiicting  intelligence  of  the  death 
 of  their  only  child  : —  * 
 
 "  My  dear  brother  and  sister  in  Christ,  and  now  brother  and 
 sister  in  affliction,  the  letters  which  accompany  this  will  inform 
 you  why  I  write.  I  see  and  share  in  the  poignant  grief  which 
 those  letters  occasion  ;  nor  would  I  rudely  interrupt  it.  I  Avill 
 sit  down  and  weep  with  you  in  silence  for  a  while  ;  and  when 
 the  first  gush  of  wounded  affection  is  past ;  when  the  tribute 
 
 *  Christian  Spectator  for  March,  1830. 
 
318 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 which  nature  demands,  and  which  religion  does  not  forbid,  has 
 been  paid  to  the  memory  of  your  dear  departed  babe,  I  will  at- 
 tempt to  whisper  a  word  of  consolation.  May  the  '  God  of  all 
 consolation  '  make  it  such.  Were  I  writing  to  parents  who 
 know  nothing  of  religion,  I  should  indeed  despair  of  affording 
 you  any  consolation.  My  task  would  be  difficult  indeed,  nor 
 should  I  know  what  to  say.  I  could  only  tell  them  of  a  God 
 whom  they  had  never  known,  of  a  Saviour  with  whom  they 
 had  formed  no  acquaintance,  of  a  Comforter  whose  consoling 
 power  they  had  never  experienced,  of  a  Bible  from  whose  rich 
 treasures  they  had  never  been  taught  to  derive  support.  But 
 in  writing  to  you,  my  only  difficulty  is  of  a  very  different  kind. 
 It  consists  in  selecting  from  the  innumerable  topics  of  consola- 
 tion contained  in  the  Scriptures,  those  which  are  best  adapted 
 to  your  peculiar  situation.  So  numerous  are  they,  that  I  know 
 not  which  to  mention  or  which  to  omit.  May  God  guide  my 
 choice  and  direct  my  pen.  It  is  needless,  in  writing  to  Chris- 
 tian parents,  to  you,  to  enlarge  on  the  common  topics  of  conso- 
 lation. I  need  not  tell  you  who  has  done  this, —  who  it  is  that 
 gives  and  takes  away.  I  need  not  tell  you,  that  '  whom  the 
 Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth,  and  scourgeth  every  son  whom  he  re- 
 ceiveth.'  I  need  not  tell  you  of  the  great  duties  of  resignation 
 and  submission,  for  you  have  long  been  learning  them  in  a 
 painful  but  salutary  school.  And  need  I  tell  you  that  he  who 
 inflicts  your  sufferings,  knows  their  number  and  weight,  knows 
 all  the  pain  you  feel,  and  sympathizes  with  you  even  as  you 
 once  sympathized  with  your  dear  babe  ;  for  as  a  father  pitieth 
 his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  him.  O  think 
 of  this  ;  the  pity,  the  parental  pity,  of  a  God.  Who  would  not 
 willingly  be  alHicted  to  be  thus  pitied  !  Go  then,  my  dear 
 brother  and  sister,  and  lean  with  sweet  confiding  love  upon  the 
 bosom  of  this  pitying,  sympathizing  Friend ;  there  deposit  all 
 your  sorrows,  and  hear  him  saying,  The  cup  which  I  give  you, 
 my  children,  will  you  not  drink  it  ?  Remember  he  knows  all 
 its  bitterness.  He  himself  mentions  the  grief  of  parents  mourn- 
 ing for  a  first  born  and  only  child  as  exceedingly  great.  Re- 
 member too,  that  taking  this  bitter  cup  with  cheerfulness  from 
 your  Father's  hand,  will  be  considered  by  him  as  an  unequivo- 
 cal token  of  your  filial  affection.  '  Now  I  know  that  thou 
 lovest  me,'  said  he  to  Abraham,  '  seeing  thou  hast  not  withheld 
 
EDWARD    PA  YSON. 
 
 319 
 
 thy  son,  thine  only  son  from  me.'  It  requires  the  same  kind  of 
 grace,  if  not  the  same  degree  of  grace,  to  resign  a  child  willing- 
 ly to  God,  as  to  sacrifice  it  on  the  altar ;  and  if  you  are  enabled 
 ihus  to  resign  your  babe,  God  will  say  to  you.  Now  I  know  that 
 ye  love  me,  seeing  yc  withheld  not  your  child,  your  only  child, 
 from,  me.  If  at  times,  when  '  all  the  parent  rises  in  your 
 bosoms,'  these  consolations  should  prove  insufficient  to  quiet 
 your  sorrows,  think  on  what  is  the  situation  and  employment 
 of  your  dear  departed  child.  She  is  doubtless  praising  God ; 
 and,  next  to  the  gift  of  Christ,  she  probably  praises  him  for  giv- 
 ing her  parents  who  prayed  for  her  and  dedicated  her  to  God. 
 She  now  knows  all  that  you  did  for  her,  and  loves  and  thanks 
 you  for  it,  and  will  love  and  thank  you  forever  ;  for  though  nat- 
 ural ties  are  dissolved  by  death,  yet  those  spiritual  ties  which 
 unite  you  and  your  child,  will  last  long  as  eternity.  She  has 
 performed  all  the  work,  and  done  all  the  good,  for  which  she 
 was  sent  to  us,  and  thus  fulfilled  the  end  of  her  earthly  exist- 
 once  ;  and  if  you  have  been  the  means  of  bringing  into  being  a 
 little  immortal,  who  had  just  lighted  on  these  shores,  and  then 
 took  her  flight  to  heaven,  you  have  reason  to  be  thankful ;  for 
 it  is  an  honor  and  a  favor.  Neither  your  existence  nor  your 
 union  have  been  in  vain,  since  you  have  been  the  instruments 
 of  adding  one  more  blest  voice  to  the  choirs  above.  But  I  must 
 close.  May  God  bless  you,  support  and  restore  you  to  us  in 
 safety,  is  the  prayer  of  your  affectionate  friend  and  pastor, 
 
 "  Edward  Payson." 
 
 A  letter  of  counsel  to  a  candidate  for  the  ministry  :  — 
 
 "  My  dear  brother: — ^I  rejoice  to  learn  that  you  are  in  part 
 released  fiom  the  bondage  in  which  you  have  been  so  long  held. 
 That  you  are  released,  I  infer,  first,  from  the  fact  that  you  are 
 preaching;  and,  secondly,  from  your  having  written  me  a  letter. 
 But  what  a  request  does  your  letter  contain  !  That  I  should 
 write  to  you  systematically  !  I,  who  never  did  any  thing  sys- 
 tematically in  my  life,  but  have  always  lived  extempore  !  If  I 
 write  to  you,  it  must  be  in  the  same  way.  It  Avill  be  the  easi- 
 est thing  in  the  world  to  give  you  plenty  of  good  advice.  All 
 the  difficulty  will  be,  to  make  you  follow  it.  If  you  are  like 
 me,  you  will  never  learn  any  thing  to  any  purpose,  till  it  is 
 
320 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 beaten  into  you  by  painful  experience ;  and  even  then,  you  will 
 probably  forget  it  in  a  tenth  part  of  the  time  which  it  took  you 
 to  learn  it.  However,  I  will  tell  you  one  thing,  which  experi- 
 ence has  taught  me.  If  you  will  believe  it,  on  my  word,  it 
 will  save  you  some  suffering.  If  not,  you  must  learn  it,  as  I 
 did,  under  the  scourge. 
 
 "  Some  time  since,  I  took  up  a  little  work,  purporting  to  be 
 the  lives  of  sundry  characters,  as  related  by  themselves.  Two 
 of  those  characters  agreed  in  remarking,  that  they  were  never 
 happy  imtil  they  ceased  striving  to  be  great  men.  This  remark 
 struck  me,  as  you  know  the  most  simple  remarks  will  strike  us, 
 when  Heaven  pleases.  It  occurred  to  me  at  once,  that  most  of 
 my  sins  and  sufferings  w  ere  occasioned  by  an  unwillingness  to 
 be  the  nothing  which  I  am,  and  by  consequent  struggles  to  be 
 something.  I  saw  that  if  I  would  but  cease  struggling,  and 
 consent  to  be  any  thing,  or  nothing,  just  as  God  pleases,  I  might 
 be  happy.  You  will  think  it  strange,  that  I  mention  this  as  a 
 new  discovery.  In  one  sense,  it  was  not  new  ;  I  had  known  it 
 for  years.  But  I  now  saw  it  in  a  new  light.  My  heart  saw  it, 
 and  consented  to  it;  and  I  am  comparatively  happy.  My  dear 
 brother,  if  you  can  give  up  all  desire  to  be  great,  and  feel  heart- 
 ily willing  to  be  nothing,  you  will  be  happy  too.  You  must 
 not  even  wish  to  be  a  great  Christian ;  that  is,  you  must  not 
 wish  to  make  great  attainments  in  religion,  for  the  sake  of 
 knowing  that  you  have  made,  or  for  the  sake  of  having  others 
 think  that  you  have  made  them.  Very  true,  very  good,  you 
 will  say,  though  somewhat  trite ;  but  how  am  I  to  bring  myself 
 to  such  a  state  7  Let  me  ask,  in  reply,  why  you  are  not  troub- 
 led, when  you  see  one  man  receive  military,  and  another  masonic 
 honors  ?  Why  are  you  not  unhappy,  because  you  cannot  be  a 
 colonel,  a  general,  or  a  most  worshipful  grand  high  priest.  Be- 
 cause, you  answer,  I  have  no  desire  for  these  titles  or  distinc- 
 tions. And  why  do  you  not  desire  them?  Simply  because 
 you  are  not  running  a  race  in  competition  with  those  who  ob- 
 tain them.  You  stand  aside,  and  say,  Let  those  who  wish  for 
 these  things  have  them.  Now  if  you  can,  in  a  similar  manner, 
 give  lip  all  competition  with  respect  to  other  objects  ;  if  you  can 
 stand  aside  from  the  race  which  too  many  other  ministers  are 
 running,  and  say,  from  your  heart,  '  Let  those  who  choose  to 
 engage  in  such  a  race  divide  the  prize  ;  let  one  minister  run 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 321 
 
 away  with  the  money,  and  another  with  the  esteem,  and  a  third 
 with  the  applause,  <fcc. ;  I  have  something  else  to  do  ;  a  dilfer- 
 ent  race  to  run  ;  be  God's  approbation  the  dnly  prize  for  which 
 I  run  ;  let  me  obtain  that,  and  it  is  enough  ;'  I  say,  if  you  can, 
 from  the  heart,  adopt  this  language,  you  will  find  most  of  your 
 diffictilties  and  sufferings  vanish.  But  it  is  hard  to  say  this.  It 
 is  almost  impossible  to  persuade  any  man  to  renounce  the  race, 
 without  cutting  off  his  feet,  or,  at  least,  fettering  him.  This 
 God  has  done  for  me ;  this  he  has  been  doing  for  you.  And 
 you  will,  one  day,  if  you  do  not  now,  bless  him  for  all  your 
 sufferings,  as  I  do  for  mine.  I  have  not  suffered  one  pang  too 
 much.  God  was  never  more  kind  than  when  I  thought  him 
 most  unkind ;  never  more  faithful  than  when  I  was  ready  to 
 say,  His  faithfulness  has  failed.  Let  him  fetter  you,  then,  if 
 he  pleases..  Consent  that  he  should  cut  off  your  feet,  if  he 
 pleases.  Any  thing  is  a  blessing  which  prevents  us  from  run- 
 ning the  fatal  race,  which  we  are  so  prone  to  run  ;  which  first 
 convinces  us  that  we  are  nothing,  and  then  makes  us  willing  to 
 be  so." 
 
 To  an  aged  mother,  suffering  great  anxiety  on  account  of  the 
 disheartened  and  comfortless  condition  of  her  son  :  — 
 
 "  You  give  yourself  too  much  trouble  about  P.  After  you 
 have  prayed  for  him,  as  you  have  done,  and  committed  him  to 
 God,  should  you  not  cease  to  feel  anxious  respecting  him?  The 
 command,  '  Be  careful  for  nothing,'  is  unlimited  ;  and  so  is  the 
 expression  '  casting  all  your  care  upon  him.'  If  we  cast  our  bur- 
 dens upon  another,  can  they  continue  to  press  upon  us  ?  If  we 
 bring  them  away  with  us  from  the  throne  of  grace,  it  is  evident 
 we  do  not  leave  them  there.  With  respect  to  myself,  I  have 
 made  this  one  test  of  my  prayers.  If,  after  committing  any 
 thing  to  God,  I  can,  like  Hannah,  come  away,  and  have  my 
 countenance  no  more  sad,  my  heart  no  more  pained,  or  anxious,  I 
 look  upon  it  as  one  proof  that  I  prayed  in  faith;  but,  if  I  bring 
 away  my  burden,  I  conclude  that  faith  was  not  in  exercise.  If 
 God  has  any  work  for  P.  to  do,  he  will  cause  him  to  do  it.  He 
 made  him,  as  he  made  everything  else,  for  his  own  glory,  and 
 he  Avill  cause  his  glory  to  be  promoted  by  him.  Of  course,  I 
 should  not  urge  this  as  a  reason  for  neglecting  to  counsel  or  pray 
 
 VOL.  I.  41 
 
322 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 for  him ;  but  as  a  reason  why,  when  we  have  performed  these 
 duties,  we  should  be  free  from  ail  care  and  anxiety  respecting 
 the  eveiit.  The  case  of  Cowper,  which  you  feared  would  do 
 me  hurt,  did  me  much  good.  It  led  to  such  reflections  as  these  : 
 If  God  could,  without  injury  to  himself,  or  his  cause,  sufl!'er  such 
 a  mind  as  that  of  Cowper  to  rust  in  inaction,  to  be  fettered  by 
 nervous  difficulties  and  temptations,  or  to  be  uselessly  employ- 
 ed for  ten  years  together  in  translating  a  pagan  poet,  is  it  any 
 wonder,  that  he  should  leave  my  little  mind  to  be  fettered  and 
 crippled,  and  my  time  to  pass  away  in  a  useless  manner  ?  After 
 all,  I  am  treated  more  favorably  than  he  was ;  and  T  desire  to 
 be  thankful  that  it  is  no  worse  with  me.  You  may  make  simi- 
 lar reflections  respecting  P's  case.  Should  God  leave  him  in 
 his  present  state  all  his  days,  it  would  be  nothing  new  in  the 
 history  of  his  dealings  with  his  people.  And  you  will  allow 
 that  he  has  a  right  to  do  it,  and  that  he  will  not  do  it  unless  it 
 is  for  the  best.  Where,  then,  is  any  reason  for  anxiety  ?  1 
 should  like,  indeed,  to  have  God  make  use  of  me  to  do  great 
 things  ;  and  you  would  have  him  employ  P.  to  do  great  things ; 
 but  if  he  chooses  to  leave  us  both  crippled  and  useless,  we 
 must  submit." 
 
 To  the  Rev.  Daniel  Temple,  missionary  to  Western  Asia  :— 
 
 "  Portland,  Oct.  13,  1822. 
 "  My  dear  brother  : —  I  dare  not  decline  the  correspondence 
 which  you  propose.  The  common  rules  of  civility,  to  say 
 nothing  of  Christian  affection,  forbid  it.  Yet  I  do  not  engage 
 in  such  a  correspondence  without  reluctance.  I  feel  none  of  the 
 confidence  which  you  express,  that  it  Avill  prove  beneficial  to 
 you.  Did  your  sphere  of  action  resemble  mine,  it  is  barely  pos- 
 sible that  I  might  suggest  some  hints  which  would  be  useful. 
 But  the  situation  of  a  missionary  in  Palestine  difl^ers  so  widely 
 from  that  of  a  minister  in  a  Christian  country,  that  no  advice 
 which  I  can  give,  would  afford  you  any  assistance.  And  the 
 distance  between  us  increases  my  unwillingness  to  write. 
 Almost  any  thing  in  the  form  of  a  letter  might  answer,  Avere  it 
 to  be  sent  only  a  few  miles  ;  but  a  letter  which  is  to  cross  the 
 seas,  which  is  to  go  to  Palestine,  ought  surely  to  contain  some- 
 thing worth  reading.  Even  gold  and  silver  are  almost  too  bulky 
 
EDWARD    PA  YSON. 
 
 323 
 
 to  be  sent  so  far.  Such  a  letter  should  resemble  bank  notes,  or 
 bills  of  exchange.  But  such  a  leiter  I  have  no  hopes  of  writ- 
 ing. The  faculty  of  condensing  much  in  a  small  compass,  is 
 one  of  the  many  faculties  which  I  do  not  possess.  However,  I 
 will  write.  May  he  who  knows  in  what  circumstances  this  let- 
 ter will  find  you,  guide  me  to  write  something  which  may  prove 
 a  '  word  in  season.' 
 
 "One  of  the  principal  results  of  the  little  experience  which  I 
 have  had  as  a  Christian  minister,  is  a  conviction  that  religion 
 consists  very  much  in  giving  God  that  place  in  otir  views  and 
 feelings,  which  he  actually  fills  in  the  universe.  We  know  that 
 in  the  universe  he  is  all  in  all.  So  far  as  he  is  constantly  all  in 
 all  to  us,  so  far  as  we  comply  with  the  Psalmist's  charge  to  his 
 soul,  'My  soul,  wait  thou  only  upon  God;'  so  far,  I  apprehend, 
 have  we  advanced  toward  perfection.  It  is  comparatively  easy 
 to  wait  upon  God,  but  to  wait  upon  him  only, — to  feel,  so  far  as 
 our  strength,  happiness,  and  usefulness  are  concerned,  as  if  all 
 creatures  and  second  causes  were  annihilated,  and  we  were 
 alone  in  the  universe  with  God,  is,  I  suspect,  a  difficult  and  rare 
 attainment.  At  least,  I  am  sure  it  is  one  which  I  am  very  far 
 from  having  made.  In  proportion  as  we  make  this  attainment, 
 we  shall  find  every  thing  easy;  for  we  shall  become,  emphati- 
 cally, men  of  prayer,  and  we  may  say  of  prayer,  as  Solomon 
 says  of  money,  that  it  answereth  all  things.  I  have  often  thought 
 that  every  mmister,  and  especially  every  missionary,  ought  fre- 
 ([uently  to  read,  or  at  least  call  to  mind,  Foster's  Essay  on  the 
 Epithet  Romantic.  If  you  have  not  his  Essays  at  hand,  you 
 may,  perhaps,  recollect  some  of  his  concluding  remarks.  After 
 showing  that  it  is  highly  romantic  to  expect  extraordinary  success 
 from  ordinary  means,  he  adds  to  this  effect, — 'The  individual, 
 who  should  solemnly  resolve  to  try  the  best  and  last  possible 
 efficacy  of  prayer,  and  unalterably  determine  that  heaven  should 
 not  withhold  a  single  influence,  which  the  utmost  effort  of  per- 
 severing prayer  could  bring  down,  would  probably  find  himself 
 becoming  a  much  more  successful  agent  in  his  little  sphere.' 
 Very  few  missionaries  since  the  apostles,  probably,  have  tried 
 the  experiment.  He,  who  shall  make  the  first  trial,  will,  I 
 believe,  effect  wonders.  May  you,  my  dear  brother,  be  that 
 happy  man.  Nothing  that  I  could  write,  nothing  which  an 
 angel  could  write,  would  be  necessary  to  him  who  should  make 
 
324 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 this  trial.  I  trust  that  you  will  find  our  Master  is  as  really 
 present  in  Palestine  as  he  was  in  the  days  of  his  flesh;  that  yon 
 will  sometimes  enjoy  his  presence  in  the  very  places  in  which 
 it  was  formerly  enjoyed  by  the  apostles.  We  read  that,  on  one 
 occasion,  they  •  returned  to  Jesus,  and  told  him  all  things,  both 
 what  they  had  done,  and  what  they  had  taught. '  If  we  were, 
 in  like  manner,  to  come  to  his  feet  every  evening,  and  tell  him 
 where  we  have  been,  what  we  have  done,  what  we  have  said, 
 and  what  were  our  emotions  through  the  day ;  we  should,  I 
 believe,  find  it  both  pleasant  and  profitable.  Perhaps  he  would 
 say  to  us,  as  he  did  to  them.  Come  apart,  and  rest  with  me 
 awhile.  May  he  often  invite  you  to  rest  awhile  with  him,  to 
 refresh  you  when  faint  and  weary,  and,  after  a  long  life  of  use- 
 fulness, take  you  to  rest  with  him  forever  in  his  own  heaven. 
 
 "I  write  no  religious  intelligence,  for  you  will  have  it  in  the 
 Recorder,  —  I  may,  however,  mention,  that  the  ministers  in  this 
 State  agreed  to  observe  the  first  day  of  the  present  year,  as  a 
 day  of  fasting  and  prayer.  In  consequence,  we  have  had  more 
 revivals  in  the  State  this  year  than  in  any  former  year,  though 
 none  of  them  has  been  very  extensive.  About  forty  have  been 
 added  to  our  church.  We  long  to  have  good  news  from  Palestine, 
 but  are  aware  that  we  must  wait  and  pray  long,  before  we  can 
 expect  to  hear  much. 
 
 "I  commend  you  to  God,  my  dear  brother,  and  send  this  letter 
 merely  as  a  proof  of  Christian  affection.  " 
 
 To  a  ministering  brother  at  a  distance,  whose  labors  were 
 suspended  by  sickness:  — 
 
 "  I  thank  you  for  your  letter,  though,  in  consequence  of  the 
 unfavorable  information  which  it  communicated  respecting  your 
 health,  it  gave  me  quite  as  much  pain  as  pleasure.  I  had  hoped 
 to  hear  a  better  account  of  you.  But  why  do  I  say  hoped?  or 
 what  business  have  I  to  talk  of  hoping  or  fearing,  when  God  is 
 ordering  every  thing  in  infinite  wisdom  and  mercy?  The  fact 
 is,  I  usually  find  it  much  easier  to  acquiesce  in  my  own  afflictions, 
 than  in  those  of  my  friends ;  for  I  can  see  that  afflictions  are 
 absolutely  necessary  for  me,  but  do  not  see  with  equal  clearness 
 that  they  are  necessary  for  them.  But  if  I  do  not  see  it,  God 
 does,  or  he  would  not  afflict  them.    As  you  are  in  his  hands, 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 325 
 
 you  will  be  well  the  moment  that  he  sees  it  best  you  should  be 
 so;  and  why  should* I  wish  you  to  be  well  any  sooner?  How- 
 ever, I  should  be  glad  to  hear  that  the  time  is  arrived,  and  that 
 you  are  able  to  resume  your  labors.  If  you  are  not,  and  are 
 inquiring  of  your  Master  what  he  would  have  you  do,  his 
 answer  is,  '  Lie  down  at  my  feet  and  be  quiet,  till  1  give  you 
 strength  to  get  up  and  work.'  But  he  knows  we  had  rather 
 labor  than  suffer;  and  that  we  had  rather  labor  and  suffer  too, 
 than  be  laid  aside;  and  therefore  he  sometimes  lays  us  aside  for 
 awhile,  in  order  to  try  us  with  what  is  most  disagreeable.  Be- 
 sides, no  man  is  fit  to  rise  up  and  labor,  until  he  is  made  willing 
 to  lie  still  and  suffer  as  long  as  his  Master  pleases.  But  1  had 
 almost  forgotten  that  I  am  writing  a  letter,  and  not  a  sermon. 
 This  is  the  less  to  be  wondered  at,  because  I  laid  aside  a  sermon 
 to  scribble  to  you.    I  will  try  to  be  less  forgetful  in  future. 
 
 "The  revival  which  you  predicted  is  not  arrived:  and,  what 
 is  worse,  we  see  no  signs  of  its  approaching,  unless  increasing 
 deadness  is  a  sign.  At  the  last  union  prayer  meeting,  I  proposed 
 that  all  the  churches  should  unite  in  observing  a  day  of  fasting 
 and  prayer,  and  assemble  in  the  morning  at  one  meeting-house, 
 in  the  afternoon  at  another,  and  in  the  evening  at  a  thud.  No 
 objection  was  made;  but  it  was  thought  best  to  appoint  a  com- 
 mittee to  consult  each  church  in  form.  If  they  agree  to  the 
 proposal,  as  I  think  they  will,  we  shall  appoint  some  day  next 
 week,  and  have  notice  given  from  the  pidpits  on  the  preceding 
 Sabbath.    *    *  * 
 
 "I  hope  the  good  people  of  B.,  C,  &c.,  have  become  quiet 
 again,  since  La  Fayette's  departure.  When  will  the  Saviour 
 be  invited  to  visit  us,  and  be  welcomed  as  he  was7  Not,  I  am 
 afraid,  in  my  day,  nor  yours. 
 
 "  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,  except  that  my  health  is  in  the 
 best  state  possible ;  and  yet  it  is  very  bad.  I  leave  you  to  solve 
 the  riddle,  if  it  is  one,  at  your  leisure.  When  you  have  nothing 
 better  to  do,  write  to  me,  and  tell  me  that  you  are  the  better  foi 
 having  been  sick." 
 
 To  a  kinsman  under  spiritual  trials  : — 
 
 "  My  DEAR  BROTHER  : — I  have  just  received  your  doleful  epistle 
 and.  though   parochial  cares  press  upon  me, — having  just 
 
326 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 returned  from  a  journey,  I  must  snatch  a  moment  to  answer  it. 
 Would  to  God  I  could  write  something  - which  would  prove 
 serviceable,  but  1  fear  I  shall  not.  However,  1  will  make  the 
 attempt,  and  may  God  bless  it.  You  have  no  reason  to  suppose 
 that  there  is  any  thing  peculiar  or  discouraging  in  your  present 
 situation.  God  is  dealing  with  you  as  he  did  with  Hezekiahj 
 when  he  left  him,  to  try  him,  that  he  '  might  know  all  that  was 
 in  his  heart.'  If  you  have  ever  read  Mr.  Newton's  description 
 of  grace  in  the  blade,  in  the  ear,  and  in  the  full  corn,  you  will 
 recollect,  that  he  mentions  '  desire,'  as  the  characteristic  of  the 
 first  stage,  and  '  conflict,'  as  that  of  the  second.  If  I  understand 
 your  letter,  you  have  entered  on  the  stage  of  conflict,  and  must 
 now  expect  more  distressing  proofs  of  the  desperate  wickedness 
 of  your  heart,  than  you  had  before  experienced.  In  another 
 letter,  Mr.  Newton  says,  '  I  believe  God  never  gives  his  people 
 much  of  a  victory  over  the  world,  till  he  has  left  them  to  feel 
 how  great  is  its  power  over  them.'  This  remark,  I  have  no 
 doubt,  is  true ;  and  God,  I  trust,  is  now  preparing  you  for  a 
 victory  over  the  world,  by  showing  you  more  of  its  strength 
 and  your  own  weakness.  Besides,  I  have  no  doubt  that  your 
 present  trials  are  occasioned,  in  part,  by  the  state  of  your 
 health.  But,  however  this  may  be,  let  me  assure  you,  that,  so 
 long  as  sin  is  seen,  hated,  resisted ;  so  long  as  we  groan  under 
 it,  and  struggle  against  it,  it  shall  not  harm  us.  Do  not,  then, 
 yield  to  discouragement;  do  not  neglect  the  means  of  grace,  as 
 you  will  sometimes  be  strongly  tempted  to  do ;  do  not  cease 
 struggling,  because  your  struggles  seem  to  avail  nothing ;  but 
 continue,  like  Gideon,  though  'faint,  yet  pursuing.'  Could 
 I  tell  you  what  bitter  proofs  I  have  had  of  my  desperate,  des- 
 perate depravity — how  often  I  have  been  brought  to  my  Avit's 
 end  —  how  often  I  should  have  chosen  strangling  and  death 
 rather  than  life,  and  how  I  have  been  carried  through  all,  it 
 would,  I  think,  afford  you  some  encouragement.  But  perhaps 
 you  will  say,  '  If  I  could  feel  distressed,  if  I  were  not  so  stupid 
 in  this  situation,  it  would  encourage  me.'  And  how,  let  me 
 ask,  are  you  to  learn  that  your  heart  is  like  the  nether  mill- 
 stone, except  by  being  left  for  a  time,  to  feel  that  nothing  can 
 either  melt  or  move  it?  I  do  not,  of  course,  mean  to  justify  or 
 excuse  this  hardness  of  heart.  It  is  a  most  abominable  and 
 detestable  evil,  and  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  say  any  thing 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 327 
 
 which  should  lead  you  to  think  lightly  of  it;  still,  if  onr hearts 
 are  hard  and  wicked,  in  a  far  greater  degree  than  we  ever  con- 
 ceived of,  it  is  surely  best  that  we  should  know  it;  else,  how 
 should  we  ever  be  duly  grateful  to  our  great  physician  for  heal- 
 ing us.  Heal  you  he  will,  my  dear  brother,  I  doubt  not ;  but 
 he  will  first  make  you  know  how  sick,  how  mortally  sick  you 
 are.  In  consequence,  you  will  think  more  highly  than  ever  of 
 his  kindness,  faithfulness,  and  skill :  you  will  love  much, 
 because  much  has  been  forgiven  you ;  and  you  will  be  better 
 prepared  to  join  in  the  song  of  '  Worthy  is  the  Lamb.'  I  must 
 again,  however,  beseech  you  not  to  let  sin  turn  these  precious 
 truths  to  poison,  by  tempting  you  to  think  lightly  of  sin ;  and 
 not  by  any  means  be  driven  from  attempting  to  read,  watch, 
 meditate,  and  pray.  In  your  present  situation,  this  is  the 
 great  danger.  You  will  be  strongly  tempted  to  despondency 
 and  unbelief,  and  when  these  evils  prevail,  you  will  be  tempted 
 to  neglect  the  means  of  grace  as  useless,  or  as  means  which 
 you  cannot  use  aright.  Resist  this  temptation,  and  all  will  be 
 well." 
 
 Filial  and  fraternal  duty  happily  recognized  : — 
 
 "  My  dear  mother  : — I  should  sooner  have  answered  your 
 last,  had  I  not  expected,  ere  this,  to  see  you.  But  the  stage 
 disappointed  me.  I  had  engaged  a  place  in  it,  and  sat  up  all 
 night  waiting  for  it,  but  it  did  not  come.  Thus,  no  doubt  for 
 some  wise  reasons,  my  visit  to  you  was  prevented.  I  had  two 
 particular  reasons  for  wishing  to  come.  One  was,  to  talk  with 
 P.  He  is  certainly  wrong  ;  he  is  entangled  in  a  snare  of  Satan; 
 he  can  pray,  and  he  must  pray:  he  has  no  excuse.  His  unwil- 
 lingness to  have  you  press  him  on  the  subject  is  wrong.  I  know 
 all  about  it.  I  have  been  in  the  same  snare  myself.  Whatever 
 P.  may  now  think,  he  will,  sooner  or  later,  be  convinced  that 
 the  grand  difficulty  lies,  not  in  his  nerves,  but  in  his  heart.  I 
 hope  he  will  not  pretend  that  his  constitution  is  more  shattered, 
 or  his  health  worse  than  mine.  But  I  have  never  seen  the  time 
 when  I  could  not  pray,  if  my  heart  was  right.  Let  him  not 
 think,  however,  that  I  mean  to  censure  him  harshly.  I  have 
 been  too  guilty  myself,  to  allow  of  this.  But  I  do  beseech  him, 
 if  he  has  any  regard  to  his  happiness  here  or  hereafter,  not  to 
 
328 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 let  Satan  persuade  him  that  he  is  unable  to  pray.  There 
 have  been  many  seasons,  in  which  I  could  pray  only  while 
 walking  my  study,  and,  even  then,  only  in  short,  vehement 
 ejaculations.  If  1  knelt  down,  my  head  was  so  confused,  that 
 1  could  do  nothing.  Let  him  resolve  that  he  will  spend 
 some  time  every  day  in  prayer,  if  he  can  do  nothing  more  than 
 cry,  '  Lord,  pity  me  !  Lord,  help  me  !'  He  is  ruined  if  he  does 
 not. 
 
 "  The  other  reason  why  I  wished  to  sea  you,  was,  to  know 
 what  your  plans  and  wishes  are  respecting  your  place  of  resi- 
 dence, when  H.  moves.  I  thought  that  you  might,  perhaps, 
 feel  unwilling  to  move  so  far  as  New  York.  I  hope  it  is 
 needless  to  tell  my  dear  mother,  that  if  she  chooses  to  make  her 
 home  with  us,  we  will  do  all  in  our  power  to  make  her  home 
 comfortable.  I  hope  she  will  consult  nothing  but  her  own 
 inclinations.  If  her  children  can  do  any  thing  to  make  the 
 remainder  of  her  days  comfortable,  I  trust  they  all  have  a 
 full  disposition  to  do  it.  She  has  only  to  say  the  word,  and  we 
 will  place  her  where  she  thinks  she  will  be  most  comfortable. 
 
 "  You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that,  for  a  few  weeks,  I  have  en- 
 joyed some  respite  from  my  sufferings.  I  observed  tlie  last 
 anniversary  of  my  ordination,  and  the  first  day  of  the  present 
 year,  as  days  of  fasting  and  prayer ;  and,  though  I  could  do  little 
 more  than  groan  and  sigh,  a  blessing  has  followed.  I  have 
 suffered  none  too  much.  Not  one  pang  could  have  been  spared. 
 Should  I  suffer  hereafter,  do  not  let  it  distress  you.  It  is  all 
 necessary;  all  will  be  well  at  last." 
 
 Trembling  Christians  directed  to  the  source  of  joy  and 
 strength  : — 
 
 "  Many  of  the  church  have  been  so  much  distressed,  that  I 
 thought  it  necessary  to  comfort  them,  if  possible,  and,  on  the 
 Sabbath  morning,  preached  from  1  Sam.  xii.  20 — 24,  'Fear  not; 
 ye  have  done  all  this  wickedness,'  &c.  My  design  was,  to  show 
 trembling,  desponding  Christians,  that,  notwithstanding  all  their 
 great  wickedness,  they  ought  still  to  follow  God  with  confidence 
 and  increasing  diligence ;  and  that,  if  »hey  would  do  this,  they 
 need  not  despond,  or  despair,  when  God  shows  them  wha(  is  in 
 their  hearts.    Meditate  on  the  passage,  if  you  please ;  and  I 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 329 
 
 hope  it  may  encourage  you  as  much  as  it  did  the  church.  I 
 have  preached  more  respecting  Christ  of  late  than  ever ;  and 
 am  more  and  more  convinced  that  the  l<nowledge  of  Christ  cruci- 
 fied is  the  one  thnig  needful,  the  grand  source  of  peace,  and  joy, 
 and  growth  in  grace.  Count  ail  things  loss  for  the  excellency 
 of  this  knowledge  ;  and  pray  for  it  more  than  for  any  thing  else, 
 and  you  will  find  it  to  be  so." 
 
 To  a  brother,  who  shrunk  from  his  duty,  through  depression 
 of  mind,  and  an  erroneous  opinion  of  his  own  qualifications  for 
 the  ministry.  Lest  any  should  use  the  authority  of  Dr.  Payson's 
 name  to  urge  men  to  assume  the  sacred  office  without  the  re- 
 quisite qualifications,  it  ought  to  be  stated,  that  the  person  addres- 
 sed in  the  following  letter,  besides  possessing  decided  piety,  had 
 passed  through  a  regular  course  of  preparatory  studies  at  a 
 theological  seminary  : — 
 
 "  My  dear  brother  : — Your  letter  found  me  more  than  ordi- 
 narily hurried  ;  but  I  feel  it  to  be  so  important  that  you  should 
 be  licensed  this  fall,  that  I  must  snatch  a  moment  to  answer  it. 
 Your  feelings,  as  you  describe  them,  are  just  like  mine,  only 
 less  aggravated  by  long  continuance.  I  mention  thi.s  that  you 
 may  pay  more  regard  to  my  advice.  I  am  as  certain  that  it  is 
 best  for  you  to  take  license  immediately,  as  I  can  be  of  any 
 thing.  Rely  upon  it,  that,  if  you  delay,  your  difficulties  will 
 increase,  and  you  will  feel  more  and  more  as  if  it  was  impos- 
 sible to  preach.  Your  only  safety  lies  in  placing  yourself  in 
 circumstances  which  will  make  exertion  necessary,  and  which 
 will  secure  divine  assistance.  Never  mind  your  infirmities. 
 You  have  nothing  to  do  with  them.  Your  business  is  to  trust, 
 and  go  forward.  If  you  wait  till  the  sea  becomes  land,  you 
 will  never  walk  on  it.  You  must  leave  the  ship,  and,  like 
 Peter,  set  your  feet  upon  the  waves,  and  you  will  find  them 
 marble.  Christ  is  a  good  Master.  He  wont  suff'er  you  to  sink; 
 and  you  will,  at  length,  glory  in  your  infirmities.  I  would  not 
 give  up  the  precious  proofs  which  I  have  received,  in  conse- 
 quence of  my  weakness,  of  his  power,  faithfulness,  and  love, 
 for  all  the  comforts  of  good  health.  But  be  assured,  that,  if 
 you  remain  as  you  are,  Satan  will  weave  a  net  round  you, 
 which  you  will  never  break.    Every  mental  and  religious  effort 
 
330 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 will  become  more  difficult  and  painful ;  your  mind  will  be  like 
 the  body  of  a  rickety  child;  you  will  live  a  burden  to  yourself 
 and  friends,  and  die  without  the  consolation  of  having  been 
 made  useful.  This  would  infallibly  have  been  my  fate,  had  I 
 not  been  thrust  into  the  ministry  before  I  well  knew  what  I  was 
 about.  Yet  you  see  I  have,  somehow  or  other,  been  carried 
 along,  and  so  will  you  be.  Do  not  then,  my  dear,  dear  brother, 
 stand  hesitating.  A  feeble,  nervous  man  must  not  deliberate, 
 but  act ;  for  his  deliberation  will  not  be  worth  a  straw,  but  his 
 activity  may  be,  and  probably  will  be,  useful  both  to  himself 
 and  others. 
 
 "  When  Christ  told  his  disciples  to  feed  the  multitude  with 
 five  loaves,  they  did  not  hesitate,  and  say.  Lord,  let  us  first  see 
 the  bread  multiplied;  if  we  begin  and  have  not  enough,  we 
 shall  be  put  to  shame ;  —  but  they  distributed  what  they  had, 
 and  it  increased  with  the  distribution.  So  yon  will  find  it.  You 
 must,  therefore,  go  forward.  There  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
 not.  If  you  delay,  indolence  will  steal  upon  you,  and  bind  you 
 in  chains,  which  you  will  never  break. 
 
 I  charge  you,  then,  before  God  and  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
 to  be  up  and  doing.  There  are  fifty  places  in  this  State,  where 
 the  most  unconnected  things,  which  your  lips  could  utter,  would 
 do  good,  and  be  well  received.  You  have  no  conception  by 
 what  apparently  feeble  means  God  often  works  wonders.  Let 
 the  next  tidings  I  hear  from  you  be,  that  you  have  crossed  the 
 Rubicon  ;  or,  rather,  let  me  see  you  here  forthwith,  in  the  char- 
 acter of  a  preacher. 
 
 "  My  health  is  as  usual,  but  my  Master  is  more  than  usually 
 kind.  At  my  request,  the  church  lately  had  a  special  meeting 
 to  pray  for  me.  God  has  heard  them  wonderfully,  and  my  cup 
 runs  over.  " 
 
 Prudential  advice  on  the  preservation  of  health,  addressed  to 
 a  student  in  divinity:  — 
 
 "My  DEAR  brother: — I  am  sorry  to  learn  that  your  health  is 
 not  better,  but  rather  worse,  than  when  I  was  at  R.  Should  it 
 not  have  improved  before  you  receive  this,  I  beg  you  will  attend 
 to  it  Avithout  delay;  attend  to  it,  as  your  first  and  chief  duty; 
 for  such,  be  assured,  it  is.    '  A  merciful  man  is  merciful  to  his 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 331 
 
 beast ;'  and  you  must  be  merciful  to  your  beast,  or  as  Mr.  M. 
 would  say,  to  your  'animal.'  Remember  that  it  is  your  Master's 
 property;  and  he  will  no  more  thank  you  for  driving  it  to  death, 
 than  an  earthly  master  would  thank  a  servant  for  riding  a  val- 
 uable horse  to  death,  under  pretence  of  zeal  for  his  interest. 
 The  truth  is,  I  am  afraid  Satan  has  jumped  on  to  the  saddle,  and 
 when  he  is  there,  in  the  guise  of  an  angel  of  light,  he  whips  and 
 spurs  at  a  most  unmerciful  rate,  as  every  joint  in  my  poor  bro- 
 ken-winded animal  can  testify,  from  woful  experience.  He  has 
 temptations  for  the  conscience,  as  Mr.  Newton  well  observes ; 
 and  when  other  temptations  fail,  he  makes  great  use  of  them. 
 Many  a  poor  creature  has  he  ridden  to  death,  by  using  his  con- 
 science as  a  spur;  and  you  must  not  be  ignorant,  nor  act  as  if 
 you  were  ignorant  of  his  devices.  Remember  Mr.  Brainerd's 
 remark,  that  diversions,  rightly  managed,  increased,  rather  than 
 diminished hisspirituality.  I  now  feel  that  I  am  never  serving 
 our  Master  more  acceptably,  than  when,  for  his  sake,  I  am  using 
 means  to  preserve  my  health,  and  lengthen  my  life ;  and  you 
 must  feel  in  a  similar  manner,  if  you  mean  to  do  him  much 
 service  in  the  world.  He  knows  what  you  would  do  for  him  if 
 you  could.  He  knows  that  your  spirit  is  willing,  when  your 
 flesh  is  weak.  Do  not  think  less  favorably  of  him  than  you 
 would  of  a  judicious,  affectionate  father.  Do  not  think  that  he 
 requires  you  to  labor,  when  such  a  father  would  enjoin  rest  or 
 relaxation.  Ride,  then,  or  go  a  fishing,  or  employ  yourself  in 
 any  way,  which  will  exercise  the  body  gently,  without  wearying 
 the  mind.  Above  all,  make  trial  of  the  shower  bath.  Yon  can 
 easily  fix  up  sofnething  which  will  answer  the  purpose.  Try 
 it,  first,  about  ten  o'clcck  in  the  morning,  when  the  weather  is 
 warm  ;  and  if  you  feel  a  glow  after  it,  it  does  you  good;  but  if 
 it  occasions  chilliness,  you  must  rather  try  a  warm  bath.  My 
 dear  brother,  do  attend  immediately  to  these  hints,  for  much 
 depends  upon  it. " 
 
 To  two  young  sisters,  the  children  of  distant  friends  :  — 
 
  "I  wish  to  show  you  that  I  feel  a  deep  interest  in  your 
 
 eternal  welfare,  and  am  willing  to  do  any  thing  in  my  power  to 
 promote  it.  There  is  a  circumstance  related  in  the  book  ot 
 Judges,  respecting  the  early  part  of  Samson's  life,  which  suggests 
 
332 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 gome  thoughts  that  may  perhaps  be  useful  to  you.  We  are  there 
 told,  that  '  the  child  grew,  aud  that  the  Lord  blessed  him,  and 
 that  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  began  to  move  him  at  times. '  I  have 
 no  doubt  that,  in  a  little  different  sense,  the  Spirit  of  God  begins, 
 very  early,  to  move,  at  times,  upon  the  minds  of  children  and 
 young  persons;  especially  of  those,  Avho,  like  Samson,  have 
 pious  parents,  and  have  been,  like  him,  dedicated  to  God.  He 
 has  thus,  I  believe,  at  times,  moved  upon  your  minds.  Have 
 you  not  reason  to  suppose  that  He  has  7  Have  you  not  some- 
 times had  serious  thoughts  and  feelings  arise  in  your  minds, 
 without  any  apparent  cause?  Have  you  not  found  something 
 within  you  which  urged  upon  you  the  necessity  of  prayer,  of 
 rememberhig  your  Creator,  and  of  preparing  for  death  ]  My 
 dear  young  friends,  that  something  was  the  Spirit  of  God,  mov- 
 ing upon  your  minds.  Whenever  such  thoughts  and  feelings 
 rise  without  any  external  cause,  you  may  be  certain  that  he  is 
 near  you.  Have  you  not  also  found  that  religious  instruction 
 affects  you  very  differently  at  different  times?  Sometimes,  per- 
 haps, it  scarcely  affects  you  at  all.  At  other  times,  the  same 
 truths  take  firm  hold  of  your  attention,  and  excite  your  feelings. 
 Now,  what  occasions  this  difference?  It  is  this.  At  one  time, 
 the  Spirit  of  God  presses  home  the  truth  upon  your  minds,  and 
 causes  it  to  affect  you.  At  another  time,  He  does  not  apply  it, 
 and  then  it  produces  no  effect.  Our  Saviour,  you  recollect,  com- 
 pares the  operations  of  the  Spirit  to  those  of  the  wind.  Now, 
 when  you  see  the  branches  of  a  tree  agitated,  without  any  visible 
 cause,  you  conclude,  at  once,  that  the  wind  is  blowing  upon 
 them.  Just  so,  when  your  minds  are  interested  -  and  affected  in 
 a  serious  manner  by  religious  considerations,  you  may  conclude 
 that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  moving  upon  them.  And  can  you  not 
 recollect  many  seasons,  or  at  least  some  .seasons,  in  which  He 
 lias  thus  moved  upon  them?  If  so,  consider  how  great  a  favor, 
 liow  great  an  act  of  condescension  it  was,  on  the  part  of  God, 
 thus  to  visit  you.  Had  he  sent  an  angel  from  heaven  to  warn 
 you,  you  would  have  thought  it  a  great  favor.  You  would  have 
 been  ready  to  ask,  with  surprise.  Why  does  the  infinite,  ever- 
 lasting God  condescend  to  send  an  angel  from  heaven  to  promote 
 our  welfare  ?  But  for  God  to  send  His  Spirit  to  move  upon  your 
 minds,  is  a  much  greater  favor,  a  much  greater  act  of  condescen- 
 sion, than  it  would  be  to  send  an  angel  to  you.    O  then,  how 
 
EDWAllD    PAY  SON. 
 
 333 
 
 greatly  ought  yon  to  love  and  thank  him  for  such  a  favor,  and 
 how  carefully  should  you  cherish,  how  humbly  should  you 
 yield  to  the  motions  of  this  heavenly  visitor!  Are  you  still 
 favored  with  his  visits  1  Does  he  still  move,  at  times,  upon  your 
 minds?  If  so,  be  careful,  O  be  scrupulously  careful,  not  to  grieve 
 Him,  and  cause  Him  to  forsake  you.  But  perhaps  he  has  al- 
 ready withdrawn  from  you.  If  so,  will  you  not  implore  His 
 return?  Will  you  not,  after  reading  this,  kneel  down  and  say, 
 'Lord,  I  have  ungratefully  neglected  and  grieved  thy  good  Spirit, 
 and  He  has  justly  withdra\yn  from  me.  It  would  be  just,  should 
 He  never  return  to  me.  Yet,  in  thy  great  mercy,  let  Him  return, 
 and  again  move  upon  my  mind,  let  Him  come,  and  enlighten 
 and  sanctify  me. '    Let  this  be  your  daily  urgent  request." 
 
 To  his  parents  under  various  and  accumulated  afflictions: — 
 
 "What  a  catalogue  of  trials  does  your  letter  contain  !  I  am 
 more  and  more  convinced  of  what  I  have  long  suspected,  that 
 God  tries  his  people,  first,  with  inward,  spiritual  trials ;  and, 
 then,  when  they  have  acquired  some  degree  of  experience,  and 
 faith  has  become  strong,  he  visits  them  with  outward  afflictions. 
 
 "Dr.  Owen  says,  that  Heb.  xii.  6  ought  to  be  rendered, 
 'whom  the  Lord  loveth,  he  chasteneth;  yea,  also,  he  severely 
 chastiseth,  above  the  ordinary  measure,  those  sons  whom  he 
 accepts,  and  peculiarly  delights  in.'  If  this  rendering  be  cor- 
 rect; — and  the  doctor  certainly  makes  it  appear  so,  —  my 
 parents  have  reason  to  think  themselves  special  favorites.  Per- 
 haps, for  a  short  time  before  death,  God's  people  may  be,  in  a 
 measure,  exempted  from  both  inward  and  outward  trials. 
 
 "I  have  tried  to  write,  because  your  letter  ought  to  be  answer- 
 ed, and  because  I  wished  to  write  something  consolatory  under 
 your  afflictions;  but  I  can  only  echo  back  your  groans!" 
 
 To  a  Christian  brother  of  rank  and  wealth  :  — 
 
 "  I  have  thought  much  of  your  situation,  smce  I  left  you. 
 It  is  but  seldom  that  God  gives  one  of  his  children  so  many  tem- 
 poral blessings,  as  he  has  given  you.  He  has  hitherto  preserved 
 you,  and  will,  I  trust,  continue  to  preserve  you,  from  the  evils, 
 which  attend  a  state  of  prosp;-rity.    But  it  is,  as  you  are  aware, 
 
334 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 a  dangerous  state,  and  calls  for  great  watchfulness,  and  mucli 
 prayer.  You  are,  doubtless,  conscious  of  many  evil  propensities 
 working  within ;  but  they  may  work  long,  and  produce  much 
 internal  mischief,  before  their  effects  become  external  and  visible 
 to  others.  The  effects  of  temporal  prosperity  upon  the  mind, 
 resemble  those  of  an  unhealthy  atmosphere  upon  the  body. 
 The  constitution  is  gradually,  and  almost  insensibly,  undermin- 
 ed and  weakened;  and  yet  no  particular  part  can  be  pointed 
 out,  as  the  seat  of  the  disease,  for  the  poison  is  diffused  through 
 the  whole  system.  Spiritual  lassitude,  the  loss  of  spiritual  ap- 
 petite, and  an  indisposition  to  vigorous  spiritual  exertion,  are 
 some  of  the  first  perceptible  symptoms,  that  the  poison  of  pros- 
 perity is  at  work.  When  a  man  detects  these  symptoms  in 
 himself,  it  is  time  for  him  to  be  alarmed.  If  he  delays  a  liitle 
 longer,  the  disease  will  make  such  progress,  as  to  render  him 
 insensible  to  his  danger.  Were  I  placed  in  such  a  situation.  I 
 should  be  ruined  in  six  months.  Still,  your  situation  is,  in  one 
 respect,  desirable.  It  is  one  in  which  you  may  do  much 
 for  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  promotion  of  his  cause." 
 
 To  his  revered  mother,  on  leaving  her  habitation,  at  the  final 
 dispersion  of  her  family,  August,  1824:  — 
 
 "My  dear  mother: — I  was  a  little  surprised,  Avhen  you 
 were  with  us,  to  hear  you  say  nothing  of  the  impleasantness  of 
 being  obliged,  at  your  age,  to  remove  far  from  the  place  where 
 you  had  spent  so  many  years.  It  seemed  to  me  that  such  a  re- 
 moval must  involve  many  circumstances  which  would  be  very 
 disagreeable,  and  even  painful.  But,  as  you  said  little  or 
 nothing  on  the  subject,  I  concluded  that  it  did  not  appear  equal- 
 ly unpleasant  to  you.  It  seems  from  your  letter,  however,  that 
 the  time  of  trial  had  not  then  arrived,  and  that  you  have  since 
 been  troubled  about  your  removal  as  I  expected  you  would  be. 
 I  am  glad  to  find  that  the  trial  has  now  lost  something  of  its 
 bitterness,  and  that  you  feel  reconciled  to  go  where  Providence 
 calls.  You  have  some  illustrious  examples,  among  God's  an- 
 cient servants,  to  encourage  and  instruct  you.  Abraham,  called 
 to  leave  his  country  and  his  father's  house,  and  Jacob,  obliged 
 in  his  old  age  to  go  down  into  Egypt,  had  trials  harder,  proba- 
 bly than  yours,  though  of  the  same  nature.    But  they  went, 
 
EDWARD     PA  YSON. 
 
 335 
 
 and  God  went  with  them ;  and  he  will  go  with  you  ;  doubt  it 
 not.  On  the  other  hand,  see  how  he  dealt  with  his  enemies. 
 '  Moab  hath  been  at  ease  from  his  youth,  and  hath  not  been 
 emptied  from  vessel  to  vessel ;  therefore  his  taste  remaineth  in 
 him,  and  his  scent  is  not  changed.'  You  have  not  been  at  ease 
 from  your  youth,  and  you  have  been  emptied  from  vessel  to 
 vessel,  and  you  are  now  to  be  emptied  again  from  one  vessel  to 
 another.  And  surely  this  is  better  than  to  be  treated  like  Moab, 
 and  possess  his  character.  Besides,  as  God  said  to  Jacob,  in 
 his  old  age,  '  Fear  not  to  go  down  into  Egypt so  he  says  to 
 you,  '  Fear  not  to  go  wherever  I  call ;  for  my  presence  shall  go 
 with  you.'  I  hope  you  feel  no  anxieties  of  a  pecuniary  nature. 
 While  one  of  your  children  has  any  thing,  you  will  not  want. 
 But  why  do  I  say  this  7  Rather  let  me  say,  The  Lord  is  your 
 Shepherd,  and,  while  he  possesses  any  thing,  you  shall  not  want. 
 Poor  ****,  too,  will  be  taken  care  of.  As  to  ********  I  can 
 only  say,  once  more,  Leave  him  with  his  Master.  He  knows 
 what  to  do  with  him,  and  he  will  do  all  things  well.  If  he 
 chooses  rather  that  ********  should  suffer,  he  will  overrule 
 all  his  sufferings  for  good.  Only  pray  for  him  and  then  leave 
 him. 
 
 "  I  preached  yesterday  on  this  passage  :  — '  Though  he  will 
 not  give  him  because  he  is  his  friend,  yet,  because  of  his  impor- 
 tunity, he  will  rise  and  give  him  as  many  as  he  needeth.'  This, 
 as  well  as  the  parable  of  the  unjust  judge,  evidently  teaches, 
 that  importunate  prayer  will  prevail  when  nothing  else  can.  A 
 man  may  pray  ten  times,  and  be  denied ;  and  yet,  by  praying 
 ten  times  more,  obtain  the  blessing.  Had  the  Syro-Phoenician 
 ceased,  after  making  three  applications  to  Christ,  she  would 
 have  gone  away  empty;  but,  by  applying  once  more,  she  ob- 
 tained all  that  she  asked. 
 
 "  It  has  been  a  time  of  trial  with  me,  as  v/ell  as  with  you  since 
 we  parted.  I  have  been  reduced  lower,  in  point  of  health,  than 
 on  any  former  occasion.  For  four  weeks  I  was  unable  to  preach, 
 and  doubted  whether  I  should  ever  preach  more.  But  this  was 
 all  my  trial,  and  I  was  kept  very  quiet.  My  sermon  on  'Be 
 still,'  (fcc.,  followed  me,  and  God,  in  mercy,  inclined  me  to  be 
 still.  My  people  urged  me  very  strongly  to  make  a  voyage  to 
 Europe,  and  offered  to  supply  the  pulpit  and  pay  all  ray  expen- 
 ses.   But,  though  I  should  like  well  enough  to  see  Europe,  I 
 
33j 
 
 MEMOIR    OF  EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 could  not  feci  any  freedom  to  go.  I  did  not  like  to  have  so 
 much  expense  lavished  upon  me,  nor  did  I  know  how  to  lose 
 so  much  time  as  such  a  voyage  would  require.  I  am  now  bet- 
 ter, and  have  been  able  to  preach  the  three  last  Sabbaths.  Uut 
 I  seem  to  preach  in  vain.  There  is  no  noise  nor  shaking  among 
 the  dry  bones ;  and,  even  of  the  church,  I  may  almost  say, 
 There  is  no  breath  in  them.  But  I  am  kept  from  impatience, 
 and  am  not  quite  discouraged.  As  I  know  liow  desirous  you 
 feel  that  your  children  should  love  each  other.  1  would  tell  you. 
 if  I  could,  how  much  I  love  E.  I  loved  her  much  before  her 
 last  visit,  and  she  endeared  herself  still  more  to  us  during  that 
 visit.  I  believe,  too,  that  I  love  my  brothers  prelty  well.  Do 
 tell  them  so.  What  you  say  respecting  the  coni])hiiMts  of  min- 
 isters who  visit  us,  I  have  heard  before.  I  do  not  wonder  at  it. 
 They  have  some  reason  to  complain.  But  the  reason  of  our 
 apparent  coldness  is  what  you  suppose  it  to  be.  Pressed  down 
 to  the  very  dust,  as  I  usually  am,  I  cannot  always  dress  my 
 countenance  in  smiles,  nor  prevent  it  from  expressing  my  suffer- 
 ings. Hence  I  am  unpopular  among  ministers.  It  is  a  trial, 
 but  I  cannot  help  it." 
 
CHAPTER  XVIII. 
 
 His  private  character — His  afiections  and  demeanor  as  a  husband,  father, 
 master,  friend — His  gratitude,  economy,  generosity — His  temper  of  mind 
 under  injuries. 
 
 It  is  not  every  character  that  will  bear  a  close  inspection. 
 The  more  intimately  some  men  are  viewed,  the  less  veneration 
 and  respect  are  felt  for  them.  This  is  true  of  some  in  elevated 
 stations,  and  possessing  no  small  share  of  public  confidence. 
 Even  the  church  presents  this  anomaly.  A  man  may  bear  a 
 saint-like  visage  abroad,  and  yet  be  a  very  fiend  in  his  own 
 family ;  may  put  on  meekness  and  devotion  in  a  worshipping 
 assembly,  while  he  is  the  haughty  tyrant  of  his  wife  and  chil- 
 dren ;  may  preach  self-denial  and  condescension,  and  yet  carry 
 it  lordly  towards  the  inmates  of  his  own  dwelling,  making 
 them  the  ministers  of  his  will  and  pleasure,  or  else  imbittering 
 their  existence  by  his  savage  temper  and  itnreasonable  com- 
 plaints. 
 
 Professional  men,  whose  public  duties  are  very  numerous  and 
 urgent,  are  liable  to  fail  in  many  of  those  minute  regards  which 
 contribute  so  much  to  heighten  the 
 
  "  only  bliss 
 
 Of  paradise  which  has  survived  the  fall." 
 
 With  the  prevailing  desire  and  purpose  to  yield  to  every  claim 
 its  due  consideration,  they  are  in  danger  of  thinking  that  they 
 do  well  if  they  are  only  indifferent  to  those  of  the  least  imposing 
 VOL.  I.  43 
 
338 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 description  which  originate  in  their  domestic  relations ;  that 
 they  are  not  only  excusable,  but  disinterested  and  praiseworthy, 
 in  neglecting,  from  devotion  to  the  public  welfare,  the  ten  thou- 
 sand little  attentions  to  a  wife's  comfort  and  children's  instruc- 
 tion and  enjoyment,  which,  though  each  requires  but  a  moment's 
 time,  and,  taken  singly,  scarcely  deserves  specification,  consti- 
 tute, in  the  aggregate,  the  principal  part  of  domestic  felicity. 
 But  a  man's  circumstances  must  be  very  peculiar,  to  render 
 these  two  classes  of  duties  incompatible  with  each  other.  The 
 look  of  affection,  the  kind  word  seasonably  interposed,  the  help- 
 ing hand  which  love  extends,  the  eye  ever  awake  to  anticipate 
 the  little  wants  of  the  household,  the  heart  prompt  to  seize  op- 
 portunities to  soothe  sorrow,  to  calm  excited  feelings,  to  inspire 
 and  promote  joy,  and  to  alleviate  the  burden  of  maternal  au.xie- 
 ties  and  cares  which  press  incessantly  upon  the  wife, —  what 
 sacrifice  of  public  duty  do  these  require  7  Yet  who  can  calcu- 
 late the  misery  which  they  prevent,  or  the  blessedness  which 
 they  confer  1  As  it  is  not  great  calamities  wliich  render  men 
 unhappy,  but  petty  injuries,  and  provocations,  and  disappoint- 
 ments, constantly  recurring,  too  trilling  to  excite  public  sympa- 
 thy, or  to  be  made  the  subject  of  loud  complaint,— so  it  is  not 
 insulated  acts  of  profuse  generosity,  and  widely  separated, 
 though  extravagant  expressions  of  affection,  which  constitute 
 the  reality  or  tlie  happiness  of  friendship — especially  of  a  friend- 
 ship so  pure  and  endearing  as  ought  ever  to  subsist  between 
 those  wlio  are  united  by  conjugal  ties.  These  holy  bonds  are 
 cenienled  and  strengthened  by  daily  and  hourly  acts  and  ex- 
 pre.ssious  of  kindness.  And  where,  in  the  whole  compass  of 
 monvps.  could  a  consideration  be  found  to  enforce  this  conjugal 
 tenJcniess,  so  affecting  and  impressive  as  that  example  of  love 
 to  which  St.  Paul  refers  the  husband  for  a  pattern  of  his  own 
 duty?  —  and  it  may  be  added  what  other  reference  could  liave 
 conferred  such  exalted  honor  on  the  marriage  relation  1 — "Hiis- 
 bauds,  love  your  wives,  even  as  Christ  also  loved  the  church.  Be 
 not  bitter  against  them."  This  was  Dr.  Payson's  law  in  all  that 
 jiertained  to  conjugal  duties ;  and  to  tlais  his  daily  practice  ex- 
 hibited as  exact  a  conformity,  perhaps,  as  is  ever  seen  in  this 
 state  of  imperfection.  Reasons  have  already  been  suggested,  why 
 a  sparing  use  should  be  made  of  those  letters  which  exhibit  his 
 tenderness  and  fidelity  in  this  relation;  but  a  few  extracts  may 
 with  propriety  bo  introduced:  — 
 
EDWARD    PAY SON. 
 
 339 
 
 At  sea,  may  10,  1815. 
 "My  dear  wife  : — As  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  had  occa- 
 sion to  address  a  letter  to  you  since  we  were  married,  I  thought 
 it  necessary,  before  I  began,  to  consider,  a  few  moments,  by 
 Avhat  title  to  address  you.  The  result  of  my  meditations  was 
 a  determination  to  employ  the  term  '  wife'  in  preference  to  any 
 other.  If  yoii  ask  why  I  prefer  that  name,  I  answer.  Because 
 it  reminds  me  that  you  are  mine,  my  -own.  I  might  call  you 
 'Dear  Louisa,'  'Dear  friend,'  or  'Dear'  any  thing  else  —  and 
 it  might  mean  only  that  you  were  a  sister,  a  friend,  or  a  favorite. 
 ]Jut,  when  I  call  you  'My  wife,'  it  seems  to  me  to  mean  every 
 thing  sweet,  amiable,  and  endearing.  It  not  only  reminds  mo 
 that  she  to  whom  I  write  is,  imder  God,  mine,  but  that  she  is 
 mine  by  tlie  gift  and  appointment  of  God  —  mine  by  the  sacred 
 bond  of  marriage,  which  seems  to  give  an  air  of  sacredness  to 
 oar  union.  After  all,  I  have  not  said  what  I  meant  to  say,  but 
 something  a  little  like  it.  So  do  you  try  to  imagine  what  I 
 meant  to  say,  and  then  confess  that  I  have  succeeded  better 
 than  you,  in  choosing  a  title  with  which  to  head  a  letter.  For 
 my  own  part,  I  would  rather  yoii  should  call  me  '  Dear  hus- 
 band,' than  '  Dear  friend,'  or  '  Dear  Edward,'  &c.  However 
 call  me  by  what  name  you  please,  your  letters  will  always  be 
 precious  while  they  continue  to  utter  the  language  of  affection, 
 j  have  just  been  reaxhng  one  of  two  which  I  have  already  found 
 among  my  baggage.  If  you  knew  the  pleasure  they  gave  me, 
 you  would  feel  well  paid  for  the  trouble  of  writing.  I  fully  in- 
 tended to  write  at  least  one  to  you,  and  leave  it  behind  me  ;  but  I 
 could  think  of  no  place  to  put  it,,  in  which  you  would  be  cer- 
 tain to  find  it.  But  I  must  hasten  to  give  you  some  account  of 
 our  voyage :  — 
 
 "  Friday  and  Saturday,  we  had  fair  winds  and  pleasant 
 weather,  and  I  was  not  at  all  sea-sick.  But  on  Sunday,  it  be- 
 gan to  rain  and  blow  hard.  In  the  evening,  it  increased  to 
 quite  a  gale,  but  was  still  favorable  ;  so  that,  on  Monday  noon 
 we  found  ourselves,  by  observation,  ninety  miles  south  of  Phil- 
 adelphia. Since  that  time,  we  have  been  beating  about,  vainly 
 trying  to  get  within  the  capes  of  Delaware.  We  have  just 
 taken  a  pilot  on  board,  and  hope  to  reach  Philadelphia  in  about 
 forty-eight  haurs.  Since  the  gale  on  Sunday,  the  doctor  and  I 
 liave  been  very  sick,  and  able  to  eat  nothing.    For  two  days 
 
340 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 and  nights,  without  intermission,  I  was  tormented  with  one  of 
 my  nervous  head-aches.  This  morning  it  has  left  me,  and  I 
 begin  to  feel  something  like  an  appetite.  I  will  only  add  now,' 
 as  an  excuse  for  writing  so  miserably,  that  I  am,  at  this  nic- 
 ment,  tossing  and  rolling  about  worse  than  a  boy  in  a  swing, 
 or  on  the  end  of  a  plank.  Every  thing  near  me,  which  is 
 movable,  rolls  from  side  to  side  incessantly;  and  I  should  do 
 the  same,  did  I  not  hold  on  to  something  stable.  1  will, 
 therefore,  defer  the  conclusion  of  my  letter  till  I  am  more  es- 
 tablished." 
 
 Pmi.ADEi.rHiA,  May  11. 
 "  We  arrived  here  last  night,  after  a  most  delightful  sail  up 
 the  Delaware.    Wind  and  tide  both  favored  us,  so  that  Ave 
 came  at  the  rate  of  eleven  miles  an  hour,  for  ten  hours  succes- 
 sively.   Scarcely  ever  have  I  experienced  so  much  pleasure  in 
 
 one  day.    Every  body  seemed  happy.    Dr.  and  I  were 
 
 in  high  health  and  spirits ;  the  prospect  on  the  banks  of  the 
 river  was  delightful  and  changing  every  moment ;  the  day  was 
 fine,  and  the  swiftness  of  our  motion  Avas  very  agreeable ;  and, 
 to  crown  all,  I  saw  God  in  his  works,  and  tasted  of  his  good- 
 ness in  every  thing.  Excess  of  pleasure  was  almost  painful ; 
 before  night,  I  was  fairly  weaiy  of  enjoyment,  and  wished  for 
 sleep.  I  thought  of  you  almost  every  moment ;  and  nothing 
 but  the  presence  of  yourself  and  the  children  was  wanting,  to 
 render  me  as  happy  as  I  can  ever  be  in  this  world.  Last  night 
 I  dreamed  that  I  had  reached  home.  I  felt  your  tears  of  affec- 
 tion upon  my  cheek,  and  little  Edward's  arms  round  my  neck  ; 
 but  I  awoke,  and  it  was  a  dream.  I  have  not  yet  been  ashore. 
 Every  body  on  board  is  in  a  bustle ;  the  passengers  hastening 
 to  visit  their  friends,  and  I  standing  away  in  one  corner  alone, 
 talking  with  my  best,  dearest  earthly  friend.  You,  at  the  dis- 
 tance of  five  hundred  miles,  have  more  attractions  for  me  than 
 the  whole  city  of  Philadelphia,  which  lies  spread  outbeforeme, 
 and  on  which  I  have  scarcely,  as  yet,  bestowed  a  glance.  If  I 
 did  not  write  thus  early,  I  should  not  be  able  to  send  my  letter 
 to-day  ;  and  you  would  be  obliged  to  wait  one  day  longer  before 
 you  heard  from  us.  I  now  begin  to  regret  that  I  did  not  urge 
 you  more  to  meet  me  at  New  Haven.  It  would  be  a  gratifica- 
 tion ^0  have  you  so  much  nearer  to  me,  and  to  think  of  meeting 
 
EDWARD    PA YSON. 
 
 341 
 
 you  so  much  sooner.  1  still  have  a  faint  hope  that  you  will  be 
 there. 
 
 "  Kiss  the  children  for  me  ;  talk  to  them  about  me  ;  love  me 
 as  I  do  you,  better  than  I  did — yes,  far  better  than  I  did,  when 
 I  wrote  the  last  letter  to  you  before  we  were  married.  Love  to 
 all  who  inquire  for  me.  God  be  with  you,  bless  you,  keep  you 
 my  dear,  dear  wife. 
 
 "  So  prays  your  affectionate  husband." 
 
 In  a  letter  written  during  another  season  of  absence,  is  the 
 following  beautiful  passage,  in  which  the  gentle  and  the  severe 
 are  most  charmingly  blended  : — 
 
  "  Though  your  letter  was  consoling,  it  grieved  me  for 
 
 a  moment.  It  did  not  seem  to  breathe  so  much  tenderness  as 
 your  former  letters.  But  I  soon  perceived  the  reason.  Your 
 mind  was  braced  up  to  help  me  bear  my  burdens ;  and  in  such 
 a  state  of  mind,  it  is  not  easy  to  feel  or  express  tenderness.  I 
 hope  you  will  remember  this  remark.  You  know  that  I  am 
 often  obliged,  while  at  home,  to  put  on  all  the  iron  I  can  com- 
 mand, in  order  to  bear  up  against  trials  and  discouragements  ; 
 and  many  times,  when  you  know  nothing  of  it,  I  am  engaged 
 in  most  distressing  inward  conflicts.  Now,  how  can  a  man 
 seem  tender  and  aflTectionate  at  such  a  time  7  How  could  a 
 soldier,  in  the  heat  of  battle,  stop  to  smile  upon  his  wife,  or  kiss 
 his  children  1  Even  if  he  spoke  to  them  at  such  a  time,  the 
 highly  raised  state  of  his  feelings  would,  probably,  give  some- 
 thing like  sharpness  to  his  voice.  But  I  forbear  excuses. 
 Christ  was  tender  and  affectionate  in  the  severest  agonies, 
 the  most  distressing  conflicts.  I  hope,  if  I  am  ever  permitted 
 to  return,  you  will  find  me  a  little  more  like  him  than  I  have 
 been." 
 
 In  his  strictly  domestic  letters,  he  sometimes  hits  off  the  dif- 
 f^^rent  humors,  peculiarities,  relations,  and  circumstances  of 
 himself  and  his  connexions,  with  inimitable  vivacity,  and  a 
 sportiveness  which  shows  how  easily  a  great  man  can  unbend 
 himself  when  occasion  requires.  A  short  passage  from  the  close 
 of  one  such  letter  will  serve  as  a  specimen  of  the  qualities  allu- 
 ded to ;  and,  like  his  saitre  upon  quackery,  may  serve  a  more 
 
342 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 important  purpose  than  mere  amusement.  In  the  keen  irony 
 which  pervades  it,  is  an  effectual  rebuke  of  that  doating  partial- 
 ity, which  leads  so  many  parents  to  thuik  their  own  children 
 prodigies  of  genius  : — 
 
 "  As  to  baby,  she  is  to  he  the  greatest  genius,  and  the  greatest 
 beauty  in  these  parts.  I  could  easily  fill  a  sheet  with  proofs  of 
 her  talents.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  she  has  four  teeth  ;  stands 
 alone ;  says  -pa!  and  maJ  ;  no — no — very  stoutly,  and  has  been 
 whipped  several  times  for  being  wiser  than  her  father." 
 
 With  a  heart  always  more  ready  to  confer  favors  than  to  re- 
 ceive them,  his  condition  was  very  frequently  such,  that  he 
 needed  rather  "  to  be  ministered  unto,  than  to  minister ;"  but 
 the  most  agonizing  suffering  of  body,  when  exempted  from 
 depression  of  mind,  never  rendered  him  the  less  cheerful  and 
 agreeable  husband  and  father.  It  is  astonishing  how  "  lightly 
 he  esteemed  such  afflictions.'  They  seemed  to  affect  him 
 almost  as  little  as  violence  infiicted  on  a  block  or  a  stone.  His 
 demeanor  under  bodily  agonies  has  often  been  such,  that  he 
 was  rather  envied  than  pitied  by  his  family  and  attendants. 
 These  were,  indeed,  seasons  of  unusual  gayety  and  cheerful- 
 ness. He  has  left  a  description  of  the  accumulated  evils  that 
 were  crowded  into  a  few  days,  into  which  his  playful  imagina- 
 tion has  thrown  so  much  of  humor,  as  to  divest  the  subject  of 
 its  repulsive  character,  and  clothe  it  with  no  ordinary  attrac- 
 tions. But  it  is  chiefly  interesting  as  an  illustration  of  a  happy 
 temper  : — 
 
  "  Since  I  wrote  last,  I  have  been  called  to  sing  of  mercy 
 
 and  judgment.  My  old  friend,  the  Sick  Head-ache,  has  favored 
 me  with  an  unusual  share  of  his  company,  and  has  seemed 
 particularly  fond  of  visiting  me  on  the  Sabbath.  Then  came 
 Cholera  Morbus,  and,  in  a  few  hours,  reduced  me  so  low,  that  I 
 could  have  died  as  easily  as  not.  Rheumatism  next  arrived, 
 eager  to  pay  his  respects,  and  embraced  my  right  shoulder  with 
 such  ardor  of  affection,  that  he  had  well  nigh  torn  it  from  its 
 socket.  I  had  not  thought  much  of  this  gentleman's  powers 
 before;'  but  he  has  convinced  me  of  them  so  thoroughly,  that  I 
 shall  think  and  speak  of  them  with  respect  as  long  as  I  live.  Not 
 
EDWARD    PAYSON.  343 
 
 content  yrith  giving  me  his  company  all  day,  for  a  fortnight 
 together,  he  has  insisted  on  sitting  up  with  me  every  night,  and, 
 what  is  worse,  made  me  sit  up  too.  During  this  time,  my  poor 
 shoulder,  neck,  and  back,  seemed  to  be  a  place  in  which  the 
 various  pains  and  aches  had  assembled  to  keep  holiday  ;  and  the 
 delectable  sensations  of  stinging,  pricking,  cutting,  lacerating, 
 wrenching,  burning,  gnawing,  &c.,  succeeded  each  other,  or  all 
 mingled  together,  in  a  confusion  that  was  far  from  being  pleas- 
 ing. The  cross  old  gentleman,  though  his  zeal  is  somewhat 
 abated  by  the  fomentations,  blisters,  &c.,  with  which  we 
 welcomed  him,  still  stands  at  my  back  threatening  that  he  will 
 not  allow  me  to  finish  my  letter.  But  enough  of  him  and  his 
 companions.    Let  me  leave  them  for  a  more  pleasing  theme. 
 
 "God  has  mercifully  stayed  his  rough  wind  in  the  day  of  his 
 east  wind.  No  horrible,  hell-born  temptations,  no  rheumatism 
 of  the  mind  has  been  allowed  to  visit  me  in  my  sufferings ;  but 
 such  consolations,  such  heavenly  visits,  as  turned  agony  into 
 pleasure,  and  constrained  me  to  sing  aloud,  whenever  I  could 
 catch  my  breath  long  enough  to  utter  a  stanza.  Indeed,  I  have 
 been  ready  to  doubt  whether  pain  be  really  an  evil;  for,  though 
 more  pain  was  crowded  into  last  week,  than  any  other  week  of 
 my  life,  yet  it  was  one  of  the  happiest  weeks  I  ever  spent. 
 And  now  I  am  ready  to  say.  Come  what  will  come  —  sickness 
 pain,  agony,  poverty,  loss  of  friends — only  let  God  come  with 
 them,  and  they  shall  be  welcome.  Praised,  blessed  forever,  be 
 his  name,  for  all  my  trials  and  afflictions  !  There  has  not  been 
 one  too  many — all  -were  necessary,  and  good,  and  kind." 
 
 How  perfectly  versed  was  he  in  the  heavenly  art  of  extract- 
 ing the  choicest  sweets  from  the  bitterest  cup  !  —  "honey  out  of 
 the  rock,  and  oil  out  of  the  flinty  rock."  How  much  anguish 
 must  such  a  demeanor  under  sufferings  have  saved  '-'the  part- 
 ners of  his  blood  !"  What  rare  and  exquisite  enjoyment  must 
 it  have  imparted  to  them,  to  witness  a  happiness  which  the 
 calamities  of  life  could  not  mar  !  It  was  surely  an  enviable 
 privilege  to  enjoy  instructions  rendered  so  emphatical  and  im- 
 pressive by  the  circumstances  of  the  teacher. 
 
 In  another  extract  may  be  seen  the  tender  yearnings  of  a 
 father's  heart  —  a  heart,  nevertheless,  in  a  state  of  sweet  sub- 
 jection to  "  the  Father  of  spirits,  who  chasteneth  us  for  our 
 profit,  that  we  may  be  partakers  of  his  hohness."  : — 
 
344 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "May  13,  1S16. 
 "Your  welcome  letter,  my  dear  mother,  has  just  arrived. 
 You  would  pity  me,  if  you  knew  in  what  circumstances  I  sit 
 down  to  answer  it.  For  ten  days  I  have  been  in  what  Dr. 
 Young  calls  '  the  post  of  observation,  darker  every  hour. '  Poor 
 little  Caroline  lies  before  me,  writhing  under  the  agonies  of  dropsy 
 in  the  head.  The  physicians  have  given  her  over.  Louisa  sits 
 before  me  making  her  shroud;  yet  she  will  probably  live  a  week 
 longer;  her  distress  increasing  every  day,  till  death  closes  it.  .  I 
 thought  that  I  was  almost  without  natural  affection;  that  I  did 
 not  love  my  children ;  but  I  find,  to  my  cost,  that  I  do.  Her 
 distress  wrings  every  nerve  and  fibre  of  my  heart.  If  you  have 
 ever  seen  a  person  die  'of  this  dreadful  disorder,  I  need  not  de- 
 scribe it.  If  you  have  not,  description  can  give  you  but  little 
 idea  of  it.  I  am,  however,  mercifully  spared  the  keener  distress 
 of  being  unreconciled  to  the  trial.  As  yet,  I  can  bless  the  name 
 of  the  Lord,  and  I  bless  him  that  I  can.  Whether  I  shall  con- 
 tinue to  feel  so  to  the  end,  he  only  knows.  It  is  painful  to  see 
 her  suffer  for  my  sins.  It  is  dreadful  to  think  of  having  provoked 
 such  a  being  as  God  is,  to  inflict  such  sufferings.  But  it  is 
 right.  The  affliction  is  too  light,  as  indeed,  every  afliiction  short 
 of  eternal  death  would  be.  I  find  a  great  difference  between 
 the  effect  of  suffering  in  my  own  person,  and  in  the  person  of 
 another.  Personal  sufferings  seem  to  harden  the  heart,  and 
 make  me  selfish,  so  that  I  can  feel  little  for  others.  They  will 
 drag  one's  attention  home  to  himself  But  suffering  in  the  per- 
 son of  another  seems  to  have  an  effect  directly  opposite,  and  is, 
 therefore,  more  beneficial.  I  needed  some  such  trial,  to  teach 
 me  how  to  sympathize  with  my  people  in  similar  circumstances." 
 
 For  more  than  a  week  afterwards,  he  watched  this  child, 
 "struggling  between  life  and  death"  —  the  victim  of  complicated 
 diseases,  the  efl'ects  of  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  describe 
 and  almost  congeals  one's  blood  to  read.  Yet  he  was  calm  "  as 
 the  morning  when  the  sun  ariseth;  "  and,  though  his  health  was 
 impaired  by  watching,  in  addition  to  his  labors,  he  says  of  this 
 season — "  It  has  been,  on  the  whole,  a  happy  week.  I  have 
 been  unusually  free  from  spiritual  trials;  and  any  thing  which 
 frees  me  from  tlaem  is  a  blessing.  Be  not  distressed  on  our  ac- 
 count. We  are  happy,  and  can  sing,  'sweet  affliction,'  <fcc. 
 1  would  not  but  have  had  it  on  any  account.  " 
 
EDWAKD  PAYSON. 
 
 345 
 
 It  will  add  nothing  to  the  strength  of  the  impression  produced 
 by  these  extracts,  to  say^  that  he  was  a  most  knid  and  lender 
 husband,  a  most  faithful  and  affectionate  father;  but  it  is  adding 
 something  to  their  import,  to  affirm  that,  in  him,  these  qualities 
 were  uniform,  and  manifested  in  his  daily  intercourse  with  his 
 household. 
 
 He  was  the  companion  of  his  children.  Not  unfrequently 
 would  he  descend,  as  it  were,  to  their  level,  and  mingle,  for  a 
 few  moments,  in  their  pastimes,  and  even  invent  new  diversions 
 for  them;  particularly  such  as  would  call  forth  exertions  of  skill 
 and  ingenuity — so  that  their  very  amusements  might  prove  a 
 profitable  exercise,  and  contribute  to  the  development  of  their 
 intellectual  faculties.  Games  of  chance,  and  every  thing  which 
 bore  a  distant  resemblance  to  them,  he  utterly  disallowed.  He 
 delighted  to  amuse  them  with  pictures;  at  the  same  time  pouring 
 into  their  minds  a  knowledge  of  the  arts,  or  of  historical  char- 
 acters, or  of  geographical  and  statistical  facts,  or  of  the  natural 
 history  of  animals,  or  whatever  else  would  be  most  readily  sug- 
 gested by  the  picture. 
 
 Often  would  he  entertain  his  children,  either  from  the  stores 
 of  his  own  memory,  or  from  his  still  richer  invention,  with  tales 
 and  fables;  from  which  it  was  their  task  to  deduce  the  moral, 
 as  an  exercise  of  their  perceptive  and  reasoning  faculties,  in  pay 
 for  the  entertainment  which  he  had  afforded  them.  If  they  failed, 
 he  would,  of  course,  make  the  application  liimself 
 
 So  far  as  he  exerted  himself  for  the  intellectual  advancement 
 of  his  children,  he  did  it  not  so  much  by  set  lessons,  and  at  sea- 
 sons set  apart  for  that  purpose  exclusively,  as  by  incidental 
 instructions.  There  were  many  days  when  his  engagements 
 left  him  no  time  to  meet  them,  except  at  their  meals;  then  — 
 indeed  it  was  his  common  practice  —  he  would  improve  the  time 
 spent  at  the  table  for  this  purpose — proposing  various  questions, 
 and  inviting  inquiries  from  them,  always  leaving  them  with  a 
 subject  for  consideration,  and  often  calling  upon  them  at  night, 
 to  mention  any  new  idea  which  they  might  have  acquired  during 
 the  day.  He  was  much  devoted  to  the  welfare  of  his  children; 
 and  his  cares,  burdens  and  maladies,  were  oppressive  indeed^ 
 when  they  did  not  share  a  father's  attention. 
 
 To  instruct  them  in  religion,  was,  of  course  his  first  care. 
 Here,  also,  he  wisely  consulted  their  age  and  capacities,  and 
 
 VOL.  I.  44 
 
346 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 imparted  it,  in  measure  and  kind,  as  ihey  were  able  to  bear. 
 He  doubted  the  expediency  of  giving  religious  instruction  only 
 at  stated  periods,  and  dealing  it  out  with  parade  and  formality, 
 and  in  tedious  addresses.  His  motto  was — "Une  upon  line, 
 precept  upon  precept;  here  a  little,  and  there  a  little,"  as  occa- 
 sion offered,  or  the  emergency  demanded. 
 
 But  he  was  master,  as  well  as  father;  "one  that  ruled  well 
 his  own  house,  having  his  children  in  subjection  with  all  grav- 
 ity. "  He  habitually  explained  his  commands  to  such  of  his 
 children  as  were  of  sufficient  age  to  understand  and  appreciate 
 them;  and  always  referred  to  the  Scriptures,  as  the  umpire  from 
 whose  decisions  there  was -no  appeal.  "  The  Bible  says  thus," 
 was  the  invariable  and  ultimate  argument  for  enforcing  obedi- 
 ence. Appeals  of  this  kind  contribute  greatly  to  inspire  an  early 
 reverence  for  the  sacred  book.  It  was  a  willing  obedience,  and 
 from  exalted  principles,  which  he  aimed  to  secure. 
 
 He  treated  his  servants  as  fellow  creatures — as  if  he  believed, 
 that  "God  made  of  one  blood  all  the  people  that  dwell  upon  the 
 earth  " — as  if  he  expected  to  stand  with  them  at  the  bar,  where 
 "he  shall  have  judgment  without  mercy,  who  hath  showed  no 
 mercy.  ^'  They  shared  his  religious  instructions,  and  were 
 remembered  in  his  prayers.  He  also  exacted  of  his  children,  as 
 an  inviolable  duty,  kind  and  considerate  treatment  towards  the 
 domestics.  To  several  of  them  his  counsels  and  prayers  were 
 blessed.  To  one,  who  had  been  anxious  for  her  own  salvation 
 in  consequence  of  his  previous  fidelity,  and  apparently  lost  her 
 impressions,  he  affectionately  said,  as  she  entered  the  parlor, 
 bearing  a  pitcher  of  water  —  "I  hope  the  time  may  never  come, 
 when  you  will  long  for  a  drop  of  that  water  to  cool  your  tongue.  " 
 It  was  a  word  in  season  —  she  became  a  Christian.  Another 
 was  about  to  leave  his  family  for  a  gay  circle,  with  the  prospect 
 of  entering  a  new  relation,  from  which  he  apprehended  danger 
 to  her  soul.  At  family  prayer,  the  last  time  she  was  expected 
 to  be  present,  he  prayed  that  the  separation  might  not  be  eternal. 
 The  petition  was  remembered ;  she  soon  returned  to  her  service 
 in  his  family,  exhibited  evidence  of  conversion,  and  afterwards 
 died  in  faith.  This  tenderness  involved  no  sacrifice  of  dignity 
 or  authority  on  his  part;  nor  did  it  cause  insubordination  on  the 
 part  of  servants,  but  in  most  cases,  a  more  willing  and  faithful 
 service. 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 347 
 
 In  his  family  devotions  he  was  never  tedious.  They  were 
 always  impressive,  and  adapted  with  surprising  appropriateness 
 to  the  existing  circumstances  of  the  household.  He  delighted 
 to  address  Jehovah  through  Christ,  as  his  God,  hy  covenant; 
 and  hence  he  derived  some  of  those  powerful  arguments  which 
 he  pleaded  in  intercession  for  his  children,  and  one  strong  ground 
 of  hope  that  God  would  convert  and  save  them. 
 
 To  obtain  any  adequate  conception  of  the  manner  in  which 
 God  was  acknowledged  and  honored  in  his  habitation,  recourse 
 must  be  had,  as  in  other  instances,  to  his  own  language:  — 
 
 "Apkil,  1816. 
 
  "Another  precious  passage  is  that  in  Zechariah,  'In  that 
 
 day  shall  there  be  upon  the  bells  of  the  horses,  Holiness  to  the 
 Lord,'  &c.  I  preached  on  it  lately,  and,  among  other  things, 
 observed,  that,  in  that  day,  every  action  would  be  performed  as 
 the  most  solemn  religious  duties  are  now  ;  every  house  and  place 
 would  be  a  temple;  everyday  like  a  Sabbath;  and  evey  meal 
 like  the  Lord's  supper.  We  have  since  been  trying  to  have  the 
 propliecy  fulfilled  at  our  house;  and,  though  we  succeed  miser- 
 ably enough,  yet  the  bare  attempt  has  given  us  a  happiness 
 unknown  before.  One  thing,  which  has  been  greatly  blessed  to 
 us,  is,  having  family  prayer  at  noon,  as  well  as  morning  and 
 evening.  It  showed  us  how  far  we  often  get  from  God  during 
 the  day,  even  when  we  begin  and  close  it  with  him.  In  some 
 families,  this  wonld  be  impossible ;  and  then  half  an  hour  spent 
 alone  would  answer  the  purpose  as  well.  I  find  that  it  requires 
 almost  constant  rubbing  and  chafing  to  make  the  blood  circulate 
 in  such  frozen  souls  as  ours;  and,  after  all,  it  avails  nothing,  if 
 the  Sun  of  Righteousness  does  not  shine." 
 
 Dr.  Payson  was  the  father  of  eight  children,  two  of  whom,  a 
 son  and  a  daughter,  he  followed  to  the  grave.  Six  survive  him, 
 two  daughters  and  four  sons. 
 
 Many  persons  were  honored  with  a  large  share  of  Dr.  Pay- 
 son's  confidence  ;  but  it  is  very  doubtful  whether  he  ever  pour- 
 ed out  all  of  the  feelings  of  his  bosom  to  any  beyond  his 
 nearest  relations,  if,  indeed,  he  did  to  any  besides  his  God.  It 
 required  a  reach  of  sympathy  beyond  what  man  is  ordinarily 
 
348 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 capable  of  exercising,  to  eiUer  deeply  into  Ins  experience.  He 
 could  not  bring  himself  to  tell  of  the  peculiar  agonies  or  rap- 
 tures, which  by  turns  tortured  and  blessed  him,  to  any  heart 
 that  could  not  send  back  a  response.  And  where,  almost,  could 
 that  heart  be  found  7  And  in  this,  the  writer,  while  tracing  his 
 religious  experience,  has  often  thought  he  was  justified  by  the 
 example  of  Paul,  after  his  rapture.  Still,  while  there  Were 
 secrets  in  his  own  bosom  of  too  sacred  a  character  to  be  made 
 common  by  participation,  his  intercourse  with  his  flock,  indi- 
 vidually, was  that  of  a  highly  endearing,  tender,  and  confiden- 
 tial friendship.  "  If  there  were  ever  a  minister"  —  these  arc 
 his  own  words — "  blessed  with  a  kind  and  faitiiful  people,  I 
 am.  If  I  were  not  so  often  sick,  I  should  be  too  happy.  When 
 I  come  into  my  congregation,  I  feel  as  a  father,  surrounded  by 
 his  children.  I  do  not  feel  as  though  there  were  an  ill  disposed 
 person  among  them.  I  can  throw  ofl"  my  armor  without  fearing 
 that  an  enemy  is  there  with  a  dagger* ready  to  stab  me."  Their 
 affection  was  most  fully  and  faithfully  reciprocated.  Never  did 
 a  minister  more  ardently  love  his  charge,  or  enter  with  more 
 facility  into  all  their  interests  and  feelings.  When  any  of  them 
 Avere  visited  with  calamity,  he  Avas  among  the  very  first  to  ten- 
 der his  sympathy;  and  always  left  them  "lightened."  In  lis- 
 tening to  his  conversation  and  prayers,  the  burden  would  often 
 fall  off. 
 
 "  Beside  the  bed  where  parting  life  was  laid, 
 And  sorrow,  guilt,  and  pain,  by  turns  dismayed," 
 
 he  was  at  once  faithful  and  tender ;  and  if 
 
 "  Despair  and  anguish  fled  the  struggling  soul," 
 
 it  was  because  it  had  been  pointed  to  the  "  smitten  Rock,"  to 
 the  "  Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world." 
 
 "  Comfort  came  down,  tlie  ti-embling  wietch  to  raise. 
 And  his  last  faltering  accents  whispered  praise." 
 
 He  was  eminently  susceptible  of  gratitude.  A  favor,  which 
 would  be  received  with  a  very  summary  acknowledgement  by 
 many,  would  make  his  "  shoulders  ache  under  the  load  of  obli- 
 gation that  was  laid  upon  them."  And  if  he  "  bore  it  pretty 
 well,  it  was  because  nothing  renders  a  man  so  careless  about 
 increasing  his  debts,  as  the  consciousness  that  he  shall  never  be 
 able  to  pay." 
 
EDWARD    PAY  SON. 
 
 349 
 
 Economy  was  a  very  noticeable  feature  in  his  character.  It 
 was  a  principle  Avith  him  to  spend  nothing  merely  for  ornament. 
 The  money  which  came  into  his  possession  he  regarded  as  A 
 talent  for  which  he  was  accountable;  and  so  scrupulous  was  he, 
 as  to  the  disposition  which  he  made  of  it,  that  he  is  thought  to 
 Iiave  regarded  some  things  as  forbidden  luxuries,  which  would 
 have  been  for  his  welfare.  In  his  furniture,  in  his  apparel,  and 
 that  of  his  household,  and  in  the  provisions  of  his  table,  there 
 was  a  plaiimess  and  simplicity  well  becoming  a  man  professing 
 and  teaching  godliness.  Connected  with  this  quality  was  a 
 noble  generosity  of  soul.  He  did  not  save  to  hoard,  but  to  bless 
 others.  He  did  not  love  money  for  its  own  sake  ;  and  so  obvi- 
 ous to  all  was  his  disinterestedness,  that,  so  far  as  is  known,  he 
 never  fell  under  the  charge  or  even  the  suspicion  of  being  ava- 
 ricious. If  the  temporal  or  spiritual  necessities  of  his  fellow 
 creatures  demanded  relief,  his  money  was  as  free  for  their  use 
 as  a  cup  of  cold  water.  He  had  declined  purchasing  an  article 
 of  convenience  for  the  family  one  morning,  because,  as  it  was 
 not  absolutely  necessary,  he  thought  they  could  not  atibrd  it. 
 The  Same  day  he  gave  ten  dollars  to  a  woman  in  reduced  cir- 
 cumstances, who  called  at  his  house.  At  another  time,  he  said 
 to  his  church,  who  had  handed  in  their  contribution  of  fifty  or 
 sixty  dollars,  for  foreign  missions — "  I  am  ashamed  to  send  so 
 small  a  sum,  and  shall  forward  one  hundred  dollars,  as  your 
 contribution  ;  and  you  may  act  your  pleasure  about  indemnify- 
 ing me."  These  are  only  instances  out  of  a  multitude ;  the 
 same  liberality  characterized  him  as  long  as  he  lived.  He  con- 
 tinued to  give,  till  after  he  was  unable  to  put  his  name  to  a 
 subscription  paper.  It  was  with  reluctance  that  he  received 
 from  his  people  wliat  they  were  forward  to  give  as  a  compensa- 
 tion for  his  services  ;  and  for  two  successive  years,  he  actually 
 relinquished  four  hundred  dollars.  He  never  would  have  pos- 
 sessed a  dwelling-house  in  fee,  if  his  people  had  waited  for  his 
 consent.  Acting  according  to  the  impulse  of  their  own  liberali- 
 ty, and  their  convictions  of  what  Avas  due  to  him,  in  return  for 
 the  sums  which  he  had  relinquished,  they  purchased  and  secur- 
 ed to  him  by  deed,  a  house  more  spacious  than  he  would  have 
 chosen ;  and  this  was  all  his  property,  beyond  actual  expendi- 
 tures, which  he  did  not  give  away. 
 
 In  this  connexion  a  document  will  be  introduced,  containing 
 
350 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 a  request,  such  as  it  would  be  equally  honorable  to  ministers 
 and  people,  if  there  were  more  frequent  occasion  for  : — 
 
 To  the  membere  of  the  Second  Parish  in  Portland,  in  parish  meeting  as- 
 sembled :— 
 
 "  Gentlemen: — It  is  a  circumstance  which  claims  my  thank- 
 ful acknowledgements,  and  of  which  I  hope  ever  to  retain  a 
 grateful  recollection,  that,  while  many  ministers  are  constramed 
 to  ask.  and,  perhaps,  ask  in  vain,  for  an  increase  of  salary,  the 
 only  request  relative  to  a  support,  which  I  have  ever  had  occa- 
 sion to  present  to  you,  is,  that  my  salary  may  be  diminished. 
 Such  a  request,  you  will  recollect,  1  made,  through  the  medium 
 of  one  of  the  parish,  at  your  last  annual  meeting ;  but  your 
 kindness  and  liberality  prevented  you  from  complying  with  it. 
 I  now  repeat  that  request  in  writing.  The  salary  which  you 
 voted  me  at  the  time  of  my  settlement,  is  amply  sufficient  for 
 my  support ;  and  more  than  this  I  am  tmwilliug  to  receive  ;  for 
 1  can  never  consent  to  acquire  wealth  by  preaching  the  gospel 
 of  Christ.  Permit  me,  then,  respectfully,  but  earnestly,  to  re- 
 quest that  addition  which  you  have  so  generously  made  to  my 
 salary,  the  last  two  years,  may  be  discontinued. 
 
 "  That  the  Master  whom  I  serve  may  repay  all  your  kindness 
 to  his  servant,  is  the  first  wish  and  most  earnest  prayer  of 
 "  Your  deeply  indebted  and  grateful  pastor, 
 
 "  Edward  Payson. 
 
 "  Portland,  April  27,  1821." 
 
 In  the  same  spirit,  after  his  last  sickness  had  made  such  in- 
 roads upon  his  strength,  as  almost  wholly  to  disqualify  him  for 
 exertion,  he  dictated  the  following  communication  : — 
 
 "April  27,  1827. 
 «  To  the  membera  of  the  Second  Congregational  Church  in  Portland,  in 
 pal  ish  meeting  assembled : — 
 
 "  Brethren  and  friends  :— Of  the  kindness  and  generosity 
 with  which  you  have  invariably  treated  me,  ever  since  I  became 
 your  pastor,  and  especially  since  the  commencement  of  my 
 present  indisposition,  I  am  deeply  sensible.  Nor  have  yoti  giv- 
 en me  the  smallest  reason  to  suppose,  that  your  kindness  is 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 351 
 
 exhausted,  or  even  diminished.  But  I  must  not  allow  myself  to 
 encroach  upon  it  too  far.  It  is  my  indispensible  duty  to  prefer 
 your  spiritual  welfare  to  every  personal  consideration.  If  I 
 have  reason  to  believe  that  your  rehgious  interests  would  be 
 promoted  by  a  dissolution  of  the  connexion  between  us,  it  is  in- 
 cumbent on  me  to  request,  that  it  may  be  dissolved ;  and  to 
 retire  from  a  station,  the  duties  of  which  I  am  no  longer  able  to 
 perform.  And  have  I  not  reason  to  believe  that  such  is  the 
 fact?  With  the  present  state  of  my  health  you  are  sufficiently 
 acquainted.  It  has  already  occasioned  you  much  trouble  and 
 expense.  You  have  waited  a  reasonable  time  for  its  restora- 
 tion ;  and  the  probability  that  it  will  ever  be  restored,  is  by  no 
 means  great.  It  is  highly  important  that  such  a  society  as  this 
 should  enjoy  the  services  of  a  minister  who  possesses  a  vigor- 
 ous constitution,  firm  health,  and  ministerial  qualifications  of 
 the  first  order ;  and  the  salary  which  it  gives  entitles  it  to  ex- 
 pect, and  will  enable  it  to  command,  the  services  of  such  a 
 minister.  In  view  of  these  circumstances,  I  feel  a  prevailing 
 persuasion,  that  it  is  my  duty  to  propose  a  dissolution  of  the 
 connexion  between  us,  and  to  request  you  to  unite  with  me  in 
 calling  a  council  for  the  purpose  of  dissolving  it.  Such  a  propo- 
 sition and  request  I  now  submit  to  you. 
 
 "That  on  this  and  every  other  occasion  you  may  be  guided 
 by  that  wisdom  which  is  from  above,  and  led  to  the  adoption  of 
 such  measures  as  shall  be  most  conducive  to  the  glory  of  God, 
 and  your  own  best  interests,  is  the  prayer  of 
 
 "  Your  affectionate  friend  and  pastor, 
 
 "  Edward  Payson." 
 
 This  request  was  received  and  treated  in  a  manner  most 
 honorable  to  the  parish.  Their  reply  to  it  expressed  the  most 
 "  deep  and  affectionate  sympathy  with  their  much  esteemed 
 pastor,  and  a  sense  of  their  high  obligations  for  the  very  valu- 
 able services,  which  a  kind  Providence  had  permitted  and 
 enabled  him  to  perform  for  a  long  course  of  years ;  and  appre- 
 ciating his  present  services,  much  as  they  were  interrupted  and 
 curtailed  by  sickness,  of  paramount  value  and  interest  to  them, 
 they  did  respectfully  solicit  that  he  would  be  pleased  to  with- 
 draw his  request  ;  and  thus  permit  them  to  hope,  that,  whatev- 
 er might  be  the  state  of  his  health  in  future,  they  should  enjoy 
 
352 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 the  benefit  of  his  counsel  and  prayers,  till  he  was  called  to 
 receive  the  reward  prepared  for  the  faithful  servants  of  Christ." 
 With  these  wishes,  so  affectionately  and  gratefully  expressed, 
 he  complied  ;  and  continued,  in  such  ways  as  he  could,  to  ad- 
 vance their  spiritual  interests,  till  removed  by  the  undoubted 
 will  of  God. 
 
 But  there  are,  in  the  lives  of  eminently  faithful  ministers, 
 events  of  another  character,  which  it  is  painful  to  narrate,  and 
 yet  which  ought  not  to  be  passed  over  in  silence.  The  hostility 
 which  they  sometimes  experience,  illustrates  the  depravity  of 
 mankind,  and  confirms  the  authority  of  Scripture  by  evincing 
 the  truth  of  the  declaration, — "  If  any  man  will  five  godly  in 
 Christ  Jesus,  he  shall  suffer  persecution."  We  need  not  be 
 surprised,  therefore,  that  Dr.  Payson  should  have  been  wicked- 
 ly assailed  in  his  character,  as  a  preacher  of  a  kindred  spirit 
 was  assailed  before  him.  It  is  related  of  Richard  Baxter,  that 
 when  he  was  shaking  the  strong  holds  of  error  and  iniquity  at 
 Kidderminster,  a  drunken  slanderer  reported  concerning  him, 
 that  he  had  been  seen  under  a  tree  with  a  profligate  woman  ; 
 and  thus  he  was  made  "  the  song  of  the  drunkards."  But  the 
 defamer,  being  brought  into  court,  was  obliged  to  explain,  that 
 he  had  only  seen  Mr.  Baxter,  on  a  rainy  day,  on  horseback, 
 under  an  oak,  which  grew  in  a  hedge,  while  a  woman  was 
 standing  for  shelter  on  the  other  side  of  the  hedge.  A  still 
 heavier  charge  had  been  brought  against  one  of  his  predecessors 
 at  Kidderminster,  the  Rev.  John  Cross.  A  wicked  woman  had 
 been  hired  to  bring  the  charge ;  but  Mr.  Cross,  at  her  examina- 
 tion, placed  himself  among  the  magistrates,  dressed  as  they 
 were ;  and  she  was  asked,  if  one  of  them  was  the  man,  she 
 looked  at  them,  and  said.  No ;  and  thus  her  malice  was  de- 
 feated. 
 
 A  wicked  woman  once  brought  against  Dr.  Payson  an  accu- 
 sation, under  circumstances  which  seemed  to  render  it  impossi- 
 ble that  he  should  escape.  She  was  in  the  same  packet,  in 
 which,  many  months  before,  he  had  gone  to  Boston.  For  a 
 time,  it  seemed  almost  certain  that  his  character  would  be 
 ruined.  He  was  cut  off  from  all  resource,  except  the  throne 
 of  grace.  He  felt  that  his  only  hope  was  in  God ;  and  to  him 
 he  addressed  his  fervent  prayer.  He  was  heard  by  the  Defend- 
 er of  the  innocent.    A  "  compunctious  visiting  "  induced  the 
 
EDWARD    PAY  SON. 
 
 353 
 
 wretched  woman  to  confess  that  the  whole  was  a  malicious 
 slander. 
 
 He  was  such  "  a  terror  to  evil  doers,"  that  they  seemed  bent 
 on  destroying  his  reputation;  and  multiplied  their  malicious 
 slanders,  till  they  ceased  to  gain  any  credence  even  with  the 
 vilest.  "  It  can't  be  true,"  said  an  opposer,  respecting  a  base 
 calumny  of  Dr.  Payson.    "No,"  said  another;  "but  I  would 
 
 give  dollars,  if  it  were."    When  these  cruel  and  malicious 
 
 designs  upon  his  character  proved  abortive,  their  enmity  mani- 
 fested itself  in  other  forms.  He  once  alludes  to  this  opposition 
 in  his  letters.  It  was  in  a  year  eminently  distinguished  by 
 God's  blessing  on  his  labors  : — 
 
 "  July  4,  1816. 
 
  "  Enemies  rage  most  terribly.     Yon  have  probably 
 
 seen  in  the  papers  an  account  of  the  attempt  to  burn  our  meet- 
 ing-house.   We  have  not  discovered  the  author ;  but  there  is  no 
 
 doubt  that   are  at  the  bottom  of  it.    It  was  little  less 
 
 than  a  miracle  that  the  house  was  not  burnt,  with  many  others. 
 Never,  since  I  have  been  here,  has  the  enmity  of  the  heart  been 
 permitted  to  rage  as  it  does  now.  Every  one,  except  my  own 
 people,  seems  ready  to  curse  me ;  and  I  am  weary  of  living  in 
 continual  strife." 
 
 The  good  man  at  length  found  rest  from  this  strife.  He 
 came  out  of  every  trial  untarnished — yea,  the  brighter  for  the 
 ordeal.  No  charge  could  be  sustained  against  him,  but  such  as 
 was  urged  against  the  prophet  in  Babylon ;  and  the  ultimate 
 issue  was  not,  perhaps,  essentially  different.  It  was  increased 
 respect  for  him,  and  veneration  for  his  God. 
 
 VOL.  I.  45 
 
CHAPTER  XIX. 
 
 Further  particulars  relating  to  liis  personal  histoiy,  and  religious  exercises, 
 in  connexion  with  his  pastoral  labors  and  their  results. 
 
 It  was  not  thought  desirable  to  interrupt  a  descriptiou  of  the 
 "pastor  in  action,"  by  frequent  references  to  dates;  or  to  pay 
 any  special  regard  to  chronological  order  in  a  rehearsal  of  scenes 
 and  employments,  which  were  more  or  less  common  to  every 
 year  of  his  ministry.  In  this  chapter,  that  order  is  resumed  for 
 the  purpose  of  continuing  the  history  of  his  religious  experience 
 through  the  various  occurrences  and  vicissitudes  of  his  life. 
 The  particulars  will  be  given  almost  entirely  in  his  own  lan- 
 guage, and  in  insulated  extracts,  which  will  be  found,  however, 
 to  possess  the  principal  advantages  of  a  connected  narrative, 
 beside  several  others,  which  no  second-hand  statements  could 
 secure.  They  were  sketched  at  the  time,  and  have  the  vivid- 
 ness of  first  impressions  in  view  of  truths  and  facts  as  they 
 were  successively  brought  under  notice,  while  the  circumstances 
 ,  in  which  they  were  penned  are  a  sufiicient  guarantee  of  their 
 accuracy.  The  articles  of  intelligence  and  modes  of  elucidating 
 and  enforcing  truth,  which  are  interspersed,  will  enhance  their 
 value;  while  they  will  enable  the  reader  to  view  the  subject  ol 
 this  Memoir  in  a  greater  variety  of  attitudes,  and  to  learn  his 
 exercises  and  feelings  in  numerous  circumstances ,  in  prosper- 
 ity, and  under  the  rod;  when  borne  along  on  the  full  tide  of 
 success,  and  when  thwarted  at  every  step ;  when  religion  was 
 triumphant,  and  when  "the  ways  of  Zion  mourned." 
 
 "Portland,  June  14,  1813. 
 "  My  dear  mother  : — We  arrived  here  last  Friday,  in  safety, 
 
KDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 355 
 
 and  found  every  thing  had  been  preserved  by  our  merciful 
 Protector.  We  very  soon  had  reason  to  acknowledge  how  nuich 
 }vis  protection  is  superior  to  ours ;  for,  the  very  night  after  our 
 return,  our  garden  was  laid  waste. 
 
 "  For  a  few  days  after  my  return,  I  was  exceedingly  unwell, 
 and  there  seemed  less  prospect  of  my  continuing  in  the  ministry 
 than  ever.  In  addition,  1  was  more  severely  exercised  with 
 spiritual  trials  than  1  have  been  for  two  years  past ;  so  that  the 
 five  days  succeeding  my  return  were,  perhaps,  as  dark  as  any 
 five  days  that  I  ever  experienced.  But  now,  blessed  be  God, 
 the  scene  has  wonderfully  changed.  For  three  days,  1  have 
 felt  something  more  like  health  than  I  have  enjoyed  for  years; 
 something  of  that  spring  and  elasticity  of  spirit,  wfiich  used  to 
 render  life  tolerable,  and  exertion  pleasant.  How  long  it  will 
 continue,  I  know  not.  It  seems  too  good  to  last.  I  see,  how- 
 ever, already,  that  if  the  burden  of  sickness  is  to  be  removed, 
 some  other  burden,  perhaps  a  worse  one,  must  be  imposed  in  its 
 place.  I  am  ready  to  run  wild  with  the  pleasure  of  not  feeling 
 pain ;  though,  even  now,  I  am  not  altogether  free  from  it.  If 
 my  health  should  be  restored,  I  shall  consider  it  as  little  less 
 than  a  miracle ;  and  shall  feel  as  if  your  deafness  may  be  remo- 
 ved. Indeed  I  think  it  will  strengthen  my  faith  as  much  as  it 
 will  my  body.  It  will  also  remove  some  spiritual  difficulties 
 and  doubts,  which  have  been  a  terrible  hinderance  to  me  in  my 
 race,  and  given  unbelief  more  advantage  over  me  than  all  other 
 things  united.    But  how  I  ramble ! 
 
 "  We  have  little  encouraging  of  a  religious  nature,  though  the 
 church  are,  I  believe,  much  engaged.  They  ought  to  be ;  for  I 
 find  that  '  Portland  Christians'  have,  at  least,  a  name  to  live  at 
 the  westward ;  a  better  name,  I  fear,  than  they  will  ere  long 
 deserve,  even  if  they  merit  it  now." 
 
 "Sept.  12,  1814 
 
  "I  engaged  to  go  on  a  mission,  if  my  people  would 
 
 consent;  but  they  will  not  hear  of  it.  The  church  would  con- 
 sent, but  the  parish  will  not.  You  will  learn  from  the  news- 
 papers that  we  are  in  a  state  of  alarm  here,  or  I  should  say 
 nothing  of  it.  Ever  since  our  return,  the  street  has  been  filled 
 with  wagons,  &c.,  carrying  goods  out  of  town,  and  the  alarm 
 continues  and  increases.  We  had  hoped  to  have  a  quiet  Sabbath 
 yesterday ;  but,  in  the  morning,  the  chairman  of  the  committee 
 
356 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 of  public  safety  called  and  informed  me,  that  the  committee  had 
 issued  a  handbill,  requiring  all  the  male  citizens  to  work, 
 through  the  day,  on  the  fortifications,  and  stating  that  the  usual 
 religious  services  of  the  day  must  be  dispensed  with.  With  this 
 order  our  church  absolutely  refused  to  comply,  and  we  had 
 divine  service  both  parts  of  the  day,  as  usual,  and  a  considera- 
 bly large  congregation.  This  morning,  all  is  bustle  and  confu- 
 sion through  the  town.  We  have  sent  a  few  things  to  Gorham; 
 and,  in  case  of  an  attack,  we  can  pack  into  the  ch''>;,  and  fol- 
 low. You  have  no  reason  to  entertain  the  smallest  fears  for  our 
 personal  safety.  In  ten  minutes  after  an  alarm  is  given,  we 
 can  be  safe  out  of  town.  The  church  seem  to  fed  in  some 
 measure  as  I  could  wish.  Strong  confidence  in  God,  mingled 
 with  a  deep  sense  of  ill-desert,  and  submission  to  his  will,  is 
 displayed  by  them.  They  have  a  prayer  meeting  every 
 evening;  and,  next  Thursday,  if  circumstances  permit,  we  are 
 to  have  a  fast.  At  our  house,  all  is  still  and  quiet.  We  hear 
 little  of  the  noise,  and  have  slept  undisturbed  every  night  till 
 the  last.  I  cannot  think  we  are  in  much  danger.  Not  that 
 great  dependence  is  to  be  placed  in  our  means  of  defence ;  but 
 I  cannot  think  God  means  to  destroy  this  place.  We  needed 
 something  to  rouse  us,  and  to  remind  us  that  we  were  engaged 
 in  Avar,  and  to  excite  us  to  pray  for  the  removal  of  God's  judg- 
 ments ;  and  this  effect  the  alarm  has,  I  trust,  produced.  It  tends 
 poAverfully  to  wean  us  from  the  world ;  so  that,  thus  far,  it  has 
 been  a  mercy." 
 
 "  Nov.  14,  1814. 
 
  "  We  are  going  on  as  v/ell  as  can  be  expected.    L.  is 
 
 Avell ;  little  L.  better  than  for  a  year  past ;  my  own  health 
 slowly,  but  gradually,  improving.  Our  souls,  too,  I  hope,  are 
 not  quite  so  far  from  prospering  and  being  in  health  as  they 
 have  been;  the  church  are  reviving,  and  there  are  many  hope- 
 ful appearances  in  the  parish.  But  the  best  of  all  is.  that  we 
 seem  to  be  waking  up  in  this  part  of  the  country,  as  well  as  in 
 others,  to  the  state  of  public  morals.  Delegates  from  nineteen 
 towns  in  this  vicinity  met  in  this  town  last  week,  and  adopted 
 a  number  of  measures  to  secure  the  proper  observance  of  the 
 Sabbath.  A  similar  meeting  for  the  county  of  Lincoln  is  to  be 
 held  this  week  at  Wiscasset.  These  things,  and  others  of  a 
 similar  nature,  of  which  I  iiear  abroad,  almost  lead  me  to  cry, 
 
EDWAR  D  PAYSON. 
 
 357 
 
 with  old  Simeon — '  Let  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine 
 eyes  have  seen  thy  salvation  !'  We  shall  yet  see  peace  upon 
 our  Israel :  and  I  have  very  little  doubt,  that,  after  the  war  ceas- 
 es, we  shall  have  greater  revivals  through  the  land  than  we 
 have  ever  yet  seen.  It  was  harder  to  do  what  has  been  done, 
 both  in  the  world  and  among  us,  than  to  do  what  remains. 
 The  wheel  is  now  in  motion,  and  will  be  kept  so  with  compar- 
 ative ease.  It  is  a  glorious  day  to  live  in  !  So  much  to  be 
 done ;  so  much  to  be  prayed  for ;  so  much  to  be  seen.  I  was 
 wrong  in  saying,  I  wished  to  depart  in  peace.  I  wish  to  stay, 
 and  see,  and  do  a  little  more.  I  would  not  now  exchange  a 
 place  in  the  church  below,  even  for  a  place  in  heaven.  The 
 longer  our  time  of  labor  is,  the  better.  There  will  be  time 
 enough  for  rest. 
 
 "Dr.  died  last  week.    I  saw  him  repeatedly  during 
 
 his  illness;  but  not  a  word  of  a  religious  nature  did  he  utter; 
 and,  I  am  told,  he  said  as  little  to  others.  He  was  a  minister 
 upv/ards  of  fifty  years.  What  a  meeting  it  must  be,  when  a 
 pastor  meets  all  who  have  died  under  his  ministry,  during  so 
 many  years;  especially,  if  he  has  never  faithfully  warned 
 them ! 
 
 "  Our  people  feel  the  consequences  of  the  war  very  much. 
 I  am  astonished  to  see  how  well  they  continue  to  pay  my  salary ; 
 and  still  more,  to  see  how  liberally  they  give  to  every  proper 
 object.  Their  deep  poverty  serves  to  set  off  the  riches  of  their 
 liberahty.  If  they  were  like  many  congregations,  I  should  soon 
 be  turned  out.  Many,  however,  have  moved  away,  on  account 
 of  the  war  ;  and  if  it  continues,  the  rest  must  follow.  However, 
 we  serve  a  good  Master ;  and  while  he  has  work  for  us  to  do, 
 he  will  feed  us.  I  rejoice  to  learn,  that  you  find  '  the  joy  of  the 
 Lord  your  strength.'  It  is  strength  indeed.  I  hope  my  father 
 finds  as  much  reason  to  rejoice  in  the  progress  of  reformation  in 
 New  Hampshire,  as  we  do  here." 
 
 "  June  2,  1815. 
 
  "I  shall  not  be  able  to  visit  Rindge  this  summer. 
 
 .Tourneying  does  me  so  little  good,  and  I  have  been  absent  so 
 long  that  I  shall  not  dare  to  think  of  it  at  present.  Were  it 
 possible,  I  would  come  about  the  time  of  the  ordination  of  the 
 missionaries,  at  Newburyport,  to  which  our  church  is  invited; 
 but  I  fear  it  will  not  be. 
 
358 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "  I  am  sorry  for  poor  j  but  my  sorrow  is  mitigated,  if 
 
 not  removed,  by  reflecting,  that  if  he  is  a  Christian,  all  things 
 are  working  for  his  good  ;  and  if  he  is  not,  an  education  will  do 
 him  more  harm  than  good.  I  have  grown  quite  hard  hearted, 
 as  it  respects  the  trials  of  Christians.  I  scarcely  pity  them  at 
 all,  while  under  the  rod,  though  I  am  sorry  we  all  need  it  so 
 much.  However,  I  sympathize  with  you,  my  dear  mother,  in 
 your  want  of  hearing.  It  is  a  grievous  trial ;  and  if,  as  you 
 intimate,  frequent  letters  would  in  any  degree  mitigate  it,  I  will 
 strive  to  write  oftener.  I  trust  our  revival  has  not  ceased ; 
 though  it  will  not,  I  fear,  prove  so  extensive  as  I  at  first  hoped." 
 
 "Sept.  7.  1815. 
 
  "  Do  not  feel  anxious  about  me.    I  am,  you  know,  iu 
 
 good  hands — in  better  hands  than  yours  ;  and,  when  you  con- 
 sider how  good  God  has  been  to  me,  you  can  have  no  reason  to 
 fear  that  he  will  deal  with  me  otherwise  than  well. 
 
 "  I  have  little  to  write  respecting  our  situation  in  a  religious 
 view,  that  is  encouraging ;  but  things  look  promising  in  many 
 other  places  at  a  distance.  You  have  heard  of  the  revivals  at 
 Litchfield  and  New  Haven.  An  account  of  these  revivals  read 
 in  Rowley,  has  occasioned  the  commencement  of  a  similar  work 
 there,  which  promises  to  become  extensive.  There  is  also  con- 
 siderable attention  among  the  students  in  Academy ;  and 
 
 a  letter,  which  I  have  just  received  from  a  gentleman  in  Balti- 
 more, informs  me  that  there  is  a  revival  in  an  academy  in  that 
 vicinity,  and  in  two  or  three  other  places.  It  certainly  appears 
 more  and  more  probable,  that  God  is  about  to  work  wonders  in 
 most  of  our  seminaries  of  learning;  and,  if  so,  Avho  can  calcu- 
 late the  blessed  effects  which  will  be  the  result? 
 
 "The  revolution  in  Dartmouth  College  makes  a  great  noise 
 here.  Losing  Mr.  Brown  will  be  a  grievous  blow  to  me.  I 
 think  the  trustees  could  hardly  have  made  a  better  choice." 
 
 On  perusing  the  following,  it  is  difficult  to  repress  a  wish  that 
 the  writer  had  been  under  the  necessity  of  "  fitting  up  a  house" 
 every  year  : — 
 
 "Portland,  Nov.  1,  1815. 
 ''My  dear  mother:  —  I  fear  you  will  think  me  very  negligent 
 in  delaying  so  long  to  answer  your  letter ;  but  I  have  an  excuse 
 ready.    We  have  been  movmg,  and  repairing  our  house,  and  I 
 
EDWARD    PA  YSON. 
 
 359 
 
 have  been  almost  incessantly  engaged,  night  and  day.  We  have 
 had  half  a  score  of  workmen  in  the  house,  and  I  have  been 
 obliged  to  superintend  and  work  with  them  ;  and  this,  in  addi- 
 tion to  parochial  duties,  has  so  hurried  me,  that  I  have  scarcely 
 had  time  to  eat.  You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  my  cares  and  labors 
 have  had  a  very  beneficial  effect,  with  respect  to  my  health,  so 
 that  I  have  gained  more  in  fourteen  days  than  in  as  many  months 
 previous.  I  have  also  enjoyed  a  much  higher  degree  of  spirit- 
 ual health  than  usual,  and  have  had  many  special  mercies,  both 
 of  a  temporal  and  religious  nature;  so  that  I  have  seldom  passed 
 six  happier  weeks  than  the  last.  Our  house  proves  much  more 
 convenient  than  we  expected,  and  we  have  seen  much  of  the 
 wisdom  and  goodness  of  God  in  bringing  us  into  it.  It  is  the 
 same  house  in  which  I  formerly  boarded  when  preceptor — in 
 which  I  spent  some  months  in  folly  and  sin,  and  in  which  I 
 received  the  news  of  Charles's  death,  and  began  to  turn  my 
 attention  to  religion.  These  circumstances  give  it  an  interest 
 of  a  peculiar  kind,  and  furnish  matter  for  many  humbling, 
 many  mournful,  and  not  a  few  thankful  and  profitable  reflections. 
 O  what  a  Master  do  I  serve!  I  have  known  nothing,  felt  noth- 
 ing, all  my  days,  even  in  comparison  with  what  I  now  see  in 
 him.  Never  was  preaching  such  sweet  work  as  it  is  now.  Never 
 did  the  world  seem  such  a  nothing.  Never  did  heaven  appear 
 so  near,  so  sweet,  so  overwhelmingly  glorious.  .  .  .  God's  prom- 
 ises appear  so  strong,  so  solid,  so  real,  so  substantial,  —  more  so 
 than  the  rocks  and  everlasting  hills;  and  his  perfections,  —  what 
 shall  I  say  of  them  ?  When  I  think  of  one,  I  wish  to  dwell 
 upon  it  forever;  but  another,  and  another,  equally  glorious, 
 claims  a  share  of  admiration;  and,  when  I  begin  to  praise,  I 
 wish  never  to  cease,  but  have  it  the  commencement  of  that  song 
 which  will  never  end.  Very  often  have  I  felt  as  if  I  could  that 
 moment  throw  off"  the  body  without  staying  to  'first  go  and  bid 
 them  farewell  that  are  at  home  in  my  house. '  Let  who  will  be 
 rich,  or  admired,  or  prosperous;  it  is  enough  for  me  that  there 
 is  such  a  God  as  Jehovah,  such  a  Saviour  as  Jesus,  and  that 
 they  are  infinitely  and  unchangeably  glorious  and  happy." 
 
 The  year  1816  was  the  most  remarkably  distinguished  for  the 
 effusions  of  the  Holy  Spirit  on  his  people,  of  any  year  of  his 
 ministry,  with  the  exception  of  that  in  which  his  happy  spirit 
 
360 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 took  its  flight,  when  he  preached  so  much  from  the  bed  of  death. 
 This  fact  the  reader  will  regard  as  a  striking  commentary  on 
 the  subjoined  extracts  from  his  diary:  — 
 
 "  Dec.  16.  Since  the  last  date,  I  have  passed  through  a  greater 
 variety  of  scenes  and  circumstances  than  in  almost  any  period 
 of  equal  length  in  my  whole  life,  and  have  experienced  severer 
 sufferings,  conflicts,  and  disappointments.  Some  time  in  Feb- 
 ruary, I  began  to  hope  for  a  revival ;  and,  after  much  prayer  foi» 
 direction,  and,  as  1  thought,  with  confidence  in  God,  I  took  some 
 extraordinary,  and  perhaps  imprudent,*  measures  to  hasten  it. 
 But  the  event  did  not  answer  my  expectations  at  all;  and  in 
 consequence,  I  was  thrown  iiilo  a  most  violent  commotion,  and 
 was  tempted  to  think  God  unkind  and  unfaithful.  For  some 
 weeks,  T  could  not  think  of  my  disappointment  with  submission 
 There  were  many  aggravating  circumstances  attending  it,  which 
 rendered  it  incomparably  the  severest  disappointment,  and,  of 
 course,  the  most  trying  temptation,  I  had  ever  met  with.  It 
 injured  my  health  to  such  a  degree,  that  I  was  obliged  to  spend 
 the  summer  in  journeying,  to  recover  my  health.  This,  how- 
 ever, did  not  avail,  and  I  returned  worse  tlian  I  went  away, 
 and  phmgcd  in  the  depths  of  discouragement.  Was  obliged, 
 sorely  against  my  will,  to  give  up  my  evening  lectures,  and  to 
 preach  old  sermons.  After  awhile,  however,  my  health  began 
 to  return,  though  very  slowly.  God  was  pleased  to  revisit  me, 
 and  to  raise  me  up  out  of  the  horrible  pit  and  miry  clay,  in  which 
 I  had  so  long  lain ;  and  my  gratitude  for  this  mercy  far  exceed- 
 ed all  I  felt  at  my  first  conversion.  Sin  never  appeared  so  odious, 
 nor  Christ  so  precious,  before.  Soon  after  this,  my  hopes  of  a 
 revival  began  to  return.  About  a  month  since,  very  favorable 
 appearances  were  seen,  and  my  endeavors  to  rouse  the  church 
 seemed  to  be  remarkably  blessed.  My  whole  soul  was  gradually 
 wrought  up  to  the  higiiest  pitch  of  eager  expectation  and  dtsire; 
 I  had  great  assistance  in  observing  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer; 
 the  annual  thanksgiving  was  blessed  in  a  very  remarkable  and 
 surprising  manner,  both  to  myself  and  the  church.  From  these 
 and  many  other  circumstances,  I  was  led  to  expect,  very  con- 
 fidently, that  the  next  Sabbath,  which  was  our  communion, 
 
 •See  Chapter  XIV. 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 361 
 
 would  be  a  glorious  day,  and  that  Christ  would  then  come  to 
 convert  the  church  a  second  time,  and  prepare  them  for  a  great 
 revival.  I  had  great  freedom,  in  prayer,  both  on  Saturday  night 
 and  Sabbath  morning;  and,  after  resigning,  professedly,  the 
 whole  matter  to  God,  and  telling  him  that,  if  he  should  disap- 
 point us,  it  would  be  all  right,  I  went  to  meeting.  But  what  a 
 disappointment  awaited  me!  I  was  more  straitened  than  for  a 
 year  before;  it  was  a  very  dull  day,  both  to  myself  and  the 
 church;  all  my  hopes  seemed  dashed  to  the  ground  at  once,  and 
 I  returned  home  in  an  agony  not  to  be  described.  Instead  of 
 vanquishing  Satan,  I  was  completely  foiled  and  led  captive  by 
 him;  all  my  hopes  of  a  revival  seemed  blasted,  and  I  expected 
 nothing  but  a  repetition  of  the  same  conflicts  and  sufferings 
 which  I  had  endured  after  my  disappointment  last  spring,  and 
 which  I  dreaded  a  thousand  times  worse  than  death.  Hence 
 my  mind  was  exceedingly  imbittered.  But,  though  the  storm 
 was  sudden  and  violent,  it  was  short.  My  insulted,  abused  Mas- 
 ter pitied  and  prayed  for  me,  that  my  faith  might  not  fail;  and 
 therefore,  after  Satan  had  been  permitted  to  sift  me  as  wheat,  I 
 was  delivered  out  of  his  power ;  and.  strange  as  it  even  now 
 appears  to  me,  repentance  and  pardon  were  given  me,  and  I  was 
 taken,  with  greater  kindness  than  ever,  to  the  bosom  of  that 
 Saviour  whom  I  had  so  insulted.  Nor  was  this  all ;  the  trial 
 was  beneficial  to  me.  It  showed  me  the  selfishness  of  my 
 prayers  for  a  revival,  and  ray  self-deception  in  thinking  I  was 
 willing  to  be  disappointed,  if  God  pleased.  It  convinced  me 
 that  I  was  not  yet  prepared  for  such  a  blessing,  and  that  much 
 more  wisdom  and  grace  were  necessary  to  enable  me  to  conduct 
 a  revival  properly,  than  I  have  ever  imagined  before.  On  the 
 whole,  though  the  past  year  has  been  one  of  peculiar  trial  and 
 suffering,  I  have  reason  to  hope  it  has  not  been  unprofitable,  and 
 that  I  have  not  suffered  so  many  things  altogether  in  vain.  I 
 have  seen  more  of  myself  and  of  Christ  than  I  ever  saw  before ; 
 and  can,  at  times,  feel  more  of  the  frame  described  in  Ezekiel 
 xvi.  63,  than  I  ever  expected  to  feel  a  year  since.  The  gospel 
 way  of  salvation  appears  much  more  glorious  and  precious,  and 
 sin  more  hateful.  1  can  see,  supposing  a  revival  is  to  come, 
 that  it  was  a  mercy  to  have  it  so  long  delayed.  My  hopes,  that 
 it  will  yet  come,  are  perhaps  as  strong  as  ever,  but  my  mind  is 
 on  the  rack  of  suspense,  and  I  can  scarcely  support  the  conflict 
 VOL.  I.  46 
 
362 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 of  mingled  anxieties,  desires  and  expectations.  Meanwhile, 
 appearances  are  every  week  more  favorable,  the  heavens  are 
 covered  with  clouds,  and  some  drops  have  already  fallen.  Such 
 are  the  circumstances  in  which  I  commence  the  ninth  year  of 
 my  ministry;  and  surely  never  did  my  situation  call  more  loudly 
 for  fasting  and  prayer  than  now. 
 
 "In  the  preceding  sketch  of  the  past  year,  I  have  said  little  of 
 my  own  wickedness,  or  of  God's  goodness;  for,  indeed,  I  know 
 not  what  to  say.  The  simple  statements  which  1  have  made  of 
 facts,  speak  more  loudly  in  favor  of  Christ,  and  against  myself, 
 than  any  thing  else  can  do.  I  used  to  think  that  repentance 
 and  confession  bore  some  small  proportion  to  my  sins;  but  now 
 there  seems  to  be  no  more  proportion  between  them  than  between 
 finite  and  infinite.  I  can  see  that  I  once  trusted  much  to  my 
 repentance;  but  now  my  repentance  seems  one  of  my  worst 
 sins,  on  account  of  its  exceeding  imperfection. 
 
 "  For  an  hour  or  two,  I  have  enjoyed  as  much  assistance  as  I 
 usually  do  on  such  occasions;  but  1  see  more  and  more  how 
 exceedingly  little  there  is  of  spirituality  in  my  best  affections. 
 Imagination,  natural  affections,  and  self-love,  compose  by  much 
 the  largest  part  of  my  experiences.  Indeed,  I  can  scarcely  dis- 
 cover any  thing  else.  It  is  like  a  fire  just  kindled  ;  much  smoke, 
 some  blaze,  but  little  heat.  I  have  been  praying,  more  than  I 
 ever  did  before,  for  more  spiritual  affection  and  clearer  views; 
 but  as  yet  my  gracious  God  does  not  answer  my  request.  But 
 he  knows  best,  and  with  him  I  can  leave  it. 
 
 "  Was  favored,  while  reading  Owen  on  the  Hebrews,  Avith 
 new  and  unusually  clear  views  of  many  things  respecting  our 
 Saviour's  sufferings,  which  filled  me  with  wonder  and  delight. 
 O,  how  little  have  I  known,  how  little  do  I  still  know,  of  the 
 great  mystery  of  godliness!  In  the  evening,  hoped  I  felt  some- 
 thing of  Avhat  the  apostle  calls  travailing  in  birth  for  souls.  I 
 was  in  such  a  state  of  mind  as  I  cannot  well  describe,  but  it 
 seemed  to  be  almost  insupportable. 
 
 "  Dec.  17.  Had  a  most  sweet,  refreshing  season  in  prayei 
 last  night.  The  unsearchable  riches  seemed  opened  to  me,  tc 
 take  as  much  as  I  pleased.  Had  great  liberty  in  praying  for  a 
 revival ;  and  could  scarcely  give  over  the  blessed  work,  though 
 much  exhausted.  This  morning,  was  in  the  same  frame.  Was 
 especially  affected  and  delighted  with  the  proof  of  love  which 
 
EDWARD    r  A  Y  S  ()  N  . 
 
 363 
 
 he  required  from  Peter,  'Feed  niy  slieop.'  Prayed  tliat  I  might 
 be  enabled  to  feed  them  this  day.  Went  to  tiae  house  of  God 
 with  moreof  sueha  frame  as  I  wislicd  than  usual,  i  have 
 hitherto  had  no  hberty  in  praying  for  a  revival  in  public.  How- 
 ever much  I  might  feel  at  home,  it  was  taken  from  me  as  soon 
 as  I  entered  the  meeting-house.  JJut  to-day  my  fetters  were 
 taken  off.    I  could  pray  for  nothing  but  a  revival. 
 
 "  Dec.  18.  Felt  unusually  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  the 
 wisdom  and  grace  necessary  to  conduct  a  revival ;  but  was  en- 
 abled to  trust  in  God  to  supply  my  wants.  Spent  the  evening 
 with  Christian  friends.  Prayed  for  a  blessing  on  the  visit,  and 
 found  it  a  sweet  season.  After  my  return,  had  a  most  refresh- 
 ing and  delightful  season  in  prayer.  Had  no  longer  tlie  least 
 doubt  of  a  revival,  and  my  joy  was  unspeakable.  Continued 
 sweetly  meditating  and  praying,  till  I  fell  asleep. 
 
 "  Dec.  19.  New  joys,  new  praises.  Had  a  most  ravishing 
 view  of  Christ  this  morning,  as  coming  at  a  distance  in  the 
 chariot  of  his  salvation.  In  an  instant  he  was  with  me,  and 
 around  me  ;  and  I  could  only  cry,  Welcome  !  welcome  !  a 
 thousand  times  welcome  to  my  disconsolate  heart,  and  to  thy 
 widowed  church !  O,  joy  unspeakable  and  fidl  of  glory ! 
 while  seeing  him  not,  I  feel  and  believe  his  presence.  Spent 
 the  evenmg  with  the  church,  after  much  prayer,  both  alone  and 
 with  others,  that  Christ  would  meet  and  bless  us.  Went  to 
 meeting  trembling,  and  my  fears  were  realized.  I  was  entirely 
 deserted,  had  nothing  to  say,  and  was  obliged  to  leave  them  ab- 
 ruptly. They  sat  stupid  awhile,  after  I  left  them,  and  then 
 separated.  This  was  a  sore  trial.  Impatience  and  self-will 
 struggled  hard  for  leave  to  say  something  against  Christ :  but  I 
 was  enabled  to  flee  to  the  throne  of  grace,  and  found  relief. 
 One  thing  is  certain.  I  have  no  direct  promise  that  there  shall 
 be  a  revival ;  but  I  have  a  thousand  direct,  positive  assurances 
 that  Christ  is  faithful,  and  wise,  and  kind.  This,  therefore, 
 faith  will  believe,  whatever  becomes  of  my  hopes  and  wishes ; 
 and  it  is  evidently  absurd  to  profess  to  trust  in  God  for  what  he 
 has  not  expressly  promised,  while  I  do  not  believe  his  positive 
 assurances. 
 
 Dec  24.  Enjoyed  great  nearness  to  Christ  in  family 
 prayer.  Seemed  to  feel  a  perfect  union  with  him,  and  to  love 
 with  a  most  intense  love,  every  thing  that  is  dear  to  him. 
 
364 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 Christians  seemed  inexpressibly  dear  to  me,  and  I  loved  to  pray 
 for  them  as  for  myself  But,  O,  where  have  I  been  1  and  what 
 have  I  been  doing  all  my  days?  How  terribly  blind  and  igno- 
 rant of  religion  have  I  been  !  and  now  I  know  nothing,  feci 
 nothing  as  I  ought.  Saw  that  there  is  incomparably  more  to  be 
 known  and  felt  in  religion  than  I  ever  thought  of  before.  Wh  u 
 ^^  pity,  that  I  have  lost  so  many  of  the  best  years  of  my  life  in 
 contented  ignorance  ;  and  what  would  I  not  give  for  the  years  I 
 have  lost.  I  can  never  be  humbled  sufficiently  for  my  indo- 
 lence. As  it  respects  a  revival  I  feel  easy.  My  anxiety  has 
 subsided  into  a  settled  calm,  arising  from  a  full  persuasion 
 that  Christ  will  come  and  save  us. 
 
 "  Dec.  30.  Was  greatly  assisted  in  praying  for  a  revival, 
 and  felt  almost  a  full  assurance  that  it  would  be  granted.  Felt 
 sweetly  melted,  and  almost  overpowered  with  a  sense  of  God's 
 sovereign  and  unmerited  love.  Could  not  forbear  saying  to 
 him,  that  he  ought  not  to  save  such  a  guilty  creature ;  or  at 
 least,  ought  not  to  employ  me,  and  bless  my  labors ;  hnt  he 
 .seemed  to  reply,  with  great  power  and  majesty,  '  I  will  have 
 mercy  on  whom  I  will  have  mercy.'  Could  not  but  submit, 
 that  it  should  be  so.  Never  did  the  sovereignty  of  God  appear 
 so  sweet  as  then.  Spent  part  of  the  evening  in  religious  con- 
 versation with  my  domestics. 
 
 "Jan.  4,  1816.  Preached  the  evening  lecture  without  much 
 sensible  assistance.  After  meeting,  one  of  the  church  informed 
 nie,  that  in  the  afternoon  a  man,  (who  had  formerly  been  one 
 of  the  first  merchants  in  the  town,)  once  a  professor,  but  who 
 lias  been  for  many  years  an  apostate,  and  bitter  enemy  to  relig- 
 ion, came  to  him  apparently  much  distressed  respecting  his  sal- 
 vation ;  and  that  the  same  man  was  at  lecture.  This  good 
 news  tilled  us  with  joy  and  triumph,  so  that  all  doubts  of  a  re- 
 vival seemed  removed.  O,  I  wanted,  even  then,  to  begin  my 
 eternal  song;  and  excess  of  happiness  became  almost  painful. 
 Could  scarcely  sleep  for  joy,  though  much  fatigued. 
 
 "Jan.  5.  Had  similar  views  and  feelings  this  morning,  but 
 less  vivid.  Took  a  review  of  God  s  dealings  with  me,  and  of 
 my  own  exercises  respecting  the  revival.  Saw  infinite  wisdom 
 and  goodness  in  every  thing  that  God  has  done,  and  could  not 
 but  admire  and  praise.  As  to  my  feelings,  though  they  seemed 
 little  better  than  a  mass  of  pride,  and  selfishness,  and  impa- 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 365 
 
 lience,  yet  I  could  not  but  see  that  there  was  some  real  faith 
 under  all,  which  God  had  accepted.  Afterwards,  however,  re- 
 flecting on  the  feelings  of  papists  towards  their  saints,  and  pa- 
 gans towards  their  idols,  I  was  led  to  doubt  whether  I  had 
 exercised  any  real  faith  at  all.  Attended  a  fast.  Endeavored 
 to  convince  the  church  how  polluted  the  conference  room  must 
 be  in  the  sight  of  God,  in  consequence  of  the  sins  which  had 
 been  committed  there.  Then  made  a  confession  of  them,  and 
 prayed  that  it  might  be  cleansed.  Then  did  the  same  with  re- 
 spect to  our  closets,  and  houses,  and  afterwards  the  house  of 
 God,  and  the  communion  table.  Then  read  and  expounded 
 the  new  covenant,  and  showed  what  was  meant  by  taking  hold 
 of  it.  Finished  by  imploring  all  the  blessings  of  this  covenant 
 on  the  church,  and  praying  for  a  revival. 
 
 "  Jan.  7.  Sabbath.  Had  no  freedom  either  in  prayer  or 
 preaching,  and  the  congregation  appeared  uncommonly  stupid. 
 Concluded  that  there  was  to  be  no  revival  under  me.  Was  ex- 
 ceedingly distressed,  but  felt  no  disposition  to  murmur,  or  be 
 im[,atient.  Withdrew  to  my  chamber,  to  weep  and  pray.  It 
 seemed  clear,  that  I  was  the  great  obstacle  to  a  revival.  I  have 
 not  '  rendered  again  according  to  the  benefit  done  unto  me,  but 
 my  heart  has  been  lifted  up ;  therefore  is  there  wrath  upon  my 
 people.'  Threw  myself  in  the  dust  at  God's  feet.  Derived 
 some  comfort  from  often  repeating  those  words,  '  I  will  be  gra- 
 cious to  whom  I  will  be  gracious.'  It  seemed  sweet,  as  well  as 
 reasonable,  that  God  should  be  a  sovereign,  and  do  what  he  will 
 with  his  own." 
 
 "  March  1,  1816. 
 
  "  Could  I,  my  dear  mother,  tell  you  all  the  good  news  I 
 
 have  so  long  been  waiting  for,  it  would  be  some  comfort ;  but  I 
 can  say  but  little  compared  with  what  I  hoped  to  be  able  to  .say 
 before  this  time ;  nor  can  I  yet  determine  how  it  will  go  with 
 us.  We  have  about  eighty  inquirers,  and  several,  I  hope,  are 
 converted  ;  but  this  is  nothing  to  what  we  expected.  However, 
 we  would  be  thankful  for  a  drop,  if  we  cannot  have  a  shower. 
 It  has  been  a  trying  season  with  me  this  winter.  While  pursu- 
 ing the  revival,  it  seemed  as  if  I  must  die  in  the  pursuit,  and 
 never  overtake  it." 
 
366 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "  April  1,  1816. 
 
  "  I  atn  so  worn  down  with  constant  cares  and  labors, 
 
 that  my  affections  seem  to  be  all  dried  up,  '  and  I  am  withered 
 like  grass.'  However,  I  hope  you  have  received,  ere  this,  a 
 few  lines,  as  a  proof  that  I  have  not  quite  forgotten,  or  ceased 
 to  love  my  mother. 
 
 "  Our  revival  still  lingers  :  it,  however,  increases  slowly.  I 
 have  conversed  with  about  forty  who  entertain  hopes,  and  with 
 about  sixty  more  who  are  inquiring.  Twenty-three  have  join- 
 ed the  church  since  the  year  commenced.  The  work  is  evi- 
 dently not  over ;  but  whether  it  will  prove  general,  is  still 
 doubtful.  There  is  quite  a  revival  at  Bath,  below  us.  Nearly 
 two  hundred  have  been  awakened.  In  Philadelphia,  seventy 
 one  were  added  to  a  single  church  at  one  time,  a  few  weeks 
 since.  In  New  York  and  Baltimore,  also,  there  are  revivals. 
 You  have  probably  heard,  that  there  have  been  revivals  among 
 the  Hottentots.  Two  hundred  were  added  to  the  church  in  one 
 year,  and  ten  Hottentot  preachers  ordained.  There  is  much 
 more  good  news  of  a  similar  nature.  Surely  we  live  in  a  good 
 day,  and  I  believe  you  will  yet  see  good  days  in  Rindge.  Their 
 liberality  in  raising  father's  salary,  is  a  token  for  good;  and  I 
 rejoice  in  it  more  for  that  reason  than  for  any  other.  Those 
 who  are  most  willing  to  pay  for  the  gospel,  are  most  likely  to 
 have  it  blessed  to  them. 
 
 "  We  go  on  very  happily  in  every  respect.  I  have  been 
 favored  with  a  long  calm,  or  rather  sunshine.  Every  thing  is 
 easy;  I  am  careful  for  nothing ;  Christ  is  so  precious  and  so 
 near;  my  cup  runneth  over.  Every  day  I  expect  a  storm,  but 
 it  does  not  come.  Doubtless  I  have  many  bitter,  trying  scenes 
 to  pass  through  yet;  worse  than  any  1  have  heretofore  experi- 
 enced. But  I  care  not.  He  will  carry  me  through.  I  wish  to 
 mention  to  you  some  passages,  which  have  been  peculiarly 
 sweet  of  late.  One  is  this:  '  He  caused  them  to  be  pitied  of  all 
 them  by  whom  they  were  carried  away  captive.'  Scarcely  any 
 passage  of  Scripture  seems  to  me  so  expressive  of  God's 
 goodness  to  his  people  as  this.  After  they  had  provoked  him, 
 till  he  banished  them  from  the  good  land,  still  he  pitied  them, 
 and  made  their  enemies  pity  them.  It  sounds  like  David's  lan- 
 guage— '  Deal  gently  with  the  young  man  Absalom  for  my 
 sake 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 3&7 
 
 "  Another  is  the  account  of  our  Saviour's  ascension,  in  the 
 last  chapter  of  Luke  :  '  And  he  lifted  up  his  hands,  and  bless- 
 ed thern.  And  while  he  blessed  them,'  dec.  Observe  '  while  he 
 blessed,'  &c.  The  last  thing  he  was  ever  seen  to  do  on  earth, 
 was  to  bless  his  disciples.  He  went  up,  scattering  blessings; 
 and  he  has  done  noihing  but  bless  them  ever  since." 
 
 "  Sept.  19,  1816. 
 "  I  do  not  wonder  at  all,  my  dear  mother,  at  your  discovering 
 from  my  letters,  the  jaded,  languid  state  of  my  mental  faculties. 
 They  have  long  since  lost  all  the  elasticity  which  they  ever 
 possessed,  and  my  mind  is  '  as  dry  as  the  remainder  biscuit, 
 after  a  voyage.' 
 
  "  On  the  whole,  the  past  summer  has  been  the  happiest 
 
 which  I  have  enjoyed  since  I  was  settled.  Were  it  not  for  the 
 dreadfully  depressing  effects  of  ill  health,  I  should  be  almost 
 too  happy.  It  seems  to  me,  that  no  domestic  troubles,  not  even 
 the  loss  of  wife  and  children,  could  disturb  me  much,  might  I 
 enjoy  such  consolations  as  I  have  been  favored  with  most  of  the 
 time  since  the  date  of  my  last  letter.  Soon  after  that,  the  revi- 
 val, which  I  feared  was  at  an  end,  began  again,  and  things  now 
 look  as  promising  as  ever.  My  meeting-house  overflows,  and 
 some  of  the  church  are  obliged  to  stay  at  home,  on  account  of 
 the  impossibility  of  obtaining  seats.  1  have,  in  the  main,  been 
 favored  with  great  liberty  for  me,  both  in  the  pulpit  and  out; 
 and  it  has  very  often  seemed  as  if — could  I  only  drop  the  body, 
 I  could  continue,  without  a  moment's  pause,  to  praise  and  adore 
 to  all  eternity.  This  goodness  is  perfectly  astonishing  and  in- 
 comprehensible. I  am  in  a  maze,  whenever  I  think  of  it. 
 Every  day,  for  years,  I  have  been  expecting  some  dreadful 
 judgments,  reckoning,  as  Hezekiah  did,  that  as  a  lion  God 
 would  break  all  my  bones,  and,  from  day  even  to  night,  make 
 an  end  of  me  7  Now,  and  now,  I  have  said  to  myself,  it  is 
 coming.  Now,  God  will  cast  me  out  of  his  vineyard.  Now, 
 he  will  lay  me  aside  or  withdraw  his  Spirit,  and  let  me  fall  into 
 some  great  sin.  But,  instead  of  the  judgments  which  I  expect- 
 ed a,nd  deserve,  he  sends  nothing  but  mercies  ;  such  great  mer- 
 cies, too,  that  I  absolutely  stagger  under  them,  and  all  my 
 words  are  swallowed  up. 
 
 "  But,  great  as  my  reasons  are  to  love  God  for  his  favors,  me- 
 
368 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 thinks  he  is  infinitely  more  precious  on  account  of  his  perfec- 
 tions. Never  did  he  appear  so  inexpressibly  glorious  and  lovely 
 as  he  has  for  some  weeks  past.  He  is,  indeed,  all  in  all.  1 
 have  nothing  to  fear,  nothing  to  hope  from  creatures.  They 
 are  all  mere  shadows  and  puppets.  There  is  only  one  Being 
 in  the  universe,  and  that  Being  is  God  ;  may  I  add,  He  is  my 
 God.  1  long  to  go  and  see  Iiim  in  heaven.  I  long  still  more  to 
 stay  and  serve  him  on  earth.  Kather,  I  rejoice  to  be  just  where 
 he  pleases,  and  to  be  what  he  pleases.  Never  did  selfishness 
 and  pride  appear  so  horrid.  Never  did  I  see  myself  to  be  such 
 a  monster  ;  so  totally  dead  to  a:]l  wisdom  and  goodness.  But  I 
 can  point  up,  and  say  —  There  is  my  righteousness,  my  wisdom, 
 my  all.  In  the  hands  of  Christ  1  lie  passive  and  helpless,  and 
 am  astonished  to  see  how  he  can  work  in  me.  He  does  all ; 
 holds  me  up,  carries  me  forward,  works  in  me  and  by  me; 
 while  I  do  nothing,  and  yet  never  worked  faster  in  my  life.  To 
 say  all  in  a  word  —  'My  soul  followeth  hard  after  thee;  thy 
 right  hand  upholdeth  me.' 
 
 "  Our  inqun-ers  are  about  seventy.  We  are  building  a  con- 
 ference-house, to  hold  500  people.  Some  of  the  church,  who 
 can  ill  afford  it,^give  fifty  dollars  each  towards  it." 
 
 "  December  9,  1816. 
 
 "In  a  religious  view,  things  remain  very  much  as  they  have 
 been.  We  have  about  fifty  inquirers;  but  they  do  not  seem, 
 except  in  a  few  instanees,  to  be  very  deeply  impressed,  and  their 
 progress  is  slow.  We  have  admitted  seventy-two  persons  into 
 the  church  during  the  present  year.  Our  new  conference-house 
 has  been  finished  some  weeks;  cost  about  twelve  hundred  dol- 
 lars. At  its  dedication,  and  at  a  quarterly  fast  held  in  it  the 
 same  week,  we  enjoyed  the  divine  presence  in  a  greater  degree, 
 I  think,  than  we  ever  did  before  as  a  church.  I  would  not  have 
 given  a  straw  for  the  additional  proof,  which  a  visible  appear- 
 ance of  Christ  would  have  afforded  of  his  presence.  And  he 
 has  been  wonderfully  gracious  to  me  ever  since.  It  is  several 
 months  since  I  have  been  disturbed  with  any  of  those  dreadful 
 conflicts,  which  for  so  many  years  rendered  life  bitterer  than 
 wormwood  and  gall. 
 
 "  We  have  received  intelligence  of  E's  marriage.  I  can 
 realize,  more  than  I  once  could,  what  a  severe  trial  it  must  be 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 369 
 
 to  you  and  my  father,  to  have  both  daughters  gone  —  almost 
 hke  burying  them.  If  father  were  not  a  minister,  and  thus 
 fixed  where  he  is,  I  should  send  him  and  you  such  an  invita- 
 tion as  Joseph  sent  to  Jacob,  to  come  and  let  us  nurse  and 
 nourish  you,  since  you  are  left  so  much  alone." 
 
 "Dec.  16,  1817.  This  being  the  anniversary  of  my  ordina- 
 tion, determined  to  spend  it  in  fasting  and  prayer.  Had  little 
 courage  to  attempt  it,  on  account  of  bodily  infirmities,  and 
 repeated  vain  attempts ;  but  God  was  gracious  to  me,  and 
 enabled  me  to  go  through  with  it.  Had,  for  a  long  time,  a 
 melting,  heart-broken  frame  at  the  feet  of  Christ,  weeping 
 aloud,  and  obtained,  a  full  and  sweet  assurance  of  pardon. 
 Never  before  enjoyed  such  a  sense  of  his  love,  or  felt  so  con- 
 strained to  love  him,  and  every  thing  that  belonged  to  him, 
 especially  his  Word,  which  I  could  not  forbear  kissing,  and 
 pressing  to  my  bosom.  Was  perfectly  willing  to  die.  without 
 leaving  my  chamber,  if  my  work  here  Avere  done  and  God  saw 
 best. 
 
 "Dec.  IB.  Began  to  think,  last  night,  that  I  have  been  sleep- 
 ing all  ray  days ;  and,  this  morning,  felt  sure  of  it.  I  have 
 been  idling  and  sleeping,  while  my  flock  have  been  dropping 
 into  hell.  How  astonishingly  blind  have  I  been,  and  how 
 imperceptible  my  religious  progress !  Prayed  for  my  people 
 with  more  of  a  right  spirit  than  perhaps  ever  before.  After 
 meeting,  had.  for  a  few  moments,  such  a  view  of  God  as  almost 
 overwhelmed  me.    Could  not  have  supported  it  long." 
 
 "  Oct.  27,  1818. 
 
  "  In  addition  to  these  favors,  we  have  some  reason  to 
 
 hope  that  Zion  is  travailing  in  birth  with  souls.  After  a  long 
 season,  the  preached  word  begins  again  to  be  blessed ;  and  sev- 
 eral have,  within  a  few  days,  been  awakened.  My  health,  too, 
 which  for  several  weeks  was  worse  than  ever,  is  now  quite  as 
 good  as  usual ;  and  God  has  been  so  gracious  to  me  in  spiritual 
 things,  that  I  thought  he  was  preparing  me  for  L's  death. 
 Indeed,  it  may  be  so  still ;  but  if  so,  his  will  be  done.  David's 
 charge  to  his  soul,  '  wait  thou  ojily  upon  God,'  has  of  late 
 seemed  peculiarly  precious.  Let  him  take  all ;  if  he  leaves  us 
 himself,  we  still  have  all  and  abound.  I  tell  my  dear  parents  of 
 VOL.  I.  47 
 
370 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 these  mercies,  because  I  know  they  are  in  answer  to  your  pray- 
 ers ;  and  because  I  trust  they  will  cause  you  to  abound  in 
 thanksgiving  in  my  behalf. 
 
 ******* 
 "  Since  I  wrote  the  above,  I  have  seen  three  more  newly  awa- 
 kened ;  and  other  circumstances  appear  encouraging.  Truly 
 my  cup  runs  over  with  blessings.  I  can  still  scarcely  help 
 thinking,  that  God  is  preparing  me  for  some  severe  trial ;  but  if 
 he  will  grant  me  his  presence,  as  he  does  now,  no  trial  can  seem 
 severe.  However,  I  desire  to  rejoice  with  trembling.  I  seem  to 
 know  a  little  what  is  meant  by  fearing  the  Lord  and  his  good- 
 ness. There  seems  to  be  something  awful  and  venerable  even 
 in  the  goodness  of  God,  when  displayed  towards  creatures  so 
 desperately  wicked,  so  inexpressibly  vile  as  we  are.  O,  could  I 
 now  drop  the  body,  I  could  stand  and  cry  to  all  eternity,  with- 
 out being  weary — God  is  holy,  God  is  just,  God  is  good  ;  God 
 is  wise,  and  faithful,  and  true.  Either  of  his  perfections  alone 
 is  sufficient  to  furnish  matter  for  an  eternal,  unwearied  song. 
 How  bright,  how  dazzling,  is  the  pure,  unsullied  whiteness  of 
 his  character  !  and  how  black,  how  loathsome,  do  we  appear  in 
 contrast  with  it !  Could  I  sing  upon  paper,  I  should  '  break 
 forth  into  singing;'  for,  day  and  night  I  can  do  nothing  but  sing. 
 *  Let  the  saints  be  joyful  in  glory ;  let  them  sing  aloud  upon  their 
 beds  ;  for  the  Lord  shall  reign  king  for  ever,  and  thy  God,  O 
 ZioD.  throughout  all  generations.'  " 
 
 "April  13,  1820. 
 "  I  have  lately  been  very  much  delighted  with  some  account 
 of  the  last  years  of  Mr.  Newton.  Nothing  that  I  have  yet  met 
 with  seems  to  come  so  near  complete  ripeness  of  Christian  char- 
 acter, as  the  views  and  feelings  which  he  expresses  in  his  daily 
 conversation.  He  seems  to  have  seen  God  continually  in  every 
 thing,  to  have  been  wholly  swallowed  up  in  him,  and  to  have 
 regarded  him  as  all  in  all.  The  whole  creation  seemed,  as  it 
 were,  to  be  annihilated  in  his  view,  and  God  to  have  taken  its 
 place.  If  a  miracle  had  been  Avrought  before  me,  to  prove  the 
 reality  of  religion,  it  could  scarcely  have  produced  conviction 
 like  that  which  resulted  from  seeing  religion  thus  gloriously 
 exemplified.  After  his  faculties  seemed  to  be  almost  extinct,  so 
 that  he  could  not  remember,  in  the  afternoon,  having  preached 
 
EDWARD    P A YSON. 
 
 371 
 
 in  the  morning,  faith  and  love  and  hope  were  as  strong  as  ever. 
 Indeed,  I  cannot  conceive  of  nearer  approaches  to  perfection  in 
 this  world,  than  he  seeras  to  have  made  during  the  last  years  of 
 his  life.  He  says  that  God  works  in  his  people  to  will^  first ; 
 and  afterwards,  to  do  ;  and  thinks  that  Christians  will  to  do  good 
 many  years  before  they  actually  do  much.  This  is  encoura- 
 ging. I  think  God  Avorks  in  me  to  will;  but  in  doing,  my  pro- 
 gress is  small  indeed." 
 
 "  May  17,  1821. 
 "  My  dear  mother  : — 111  news  flies  so  fast,  and  becomes  so 
 much  exaggerated  in  its  progress,  that  I  should  not  wonder  if 
 you  were  to  hear  a  rumor  that  I  am  dying,  if  not  dead.  The 
 truth  is,  I  have  been  sick — perhaps  dangerously  so.  About 
 three  months  since,  I  began  to  be  troubled  with  a  slight  cough. 
 It  gradually  grew  worse,  and  was  attended  with  loss  of  appe- 
 tite, pain  in  the  chest,  difficulty  of  breathing,  daily  accession  of 
 fever,  and  spitting  of  blood.  It  is  nearly  a  month  since  I  have 
 been  obliged  to  give  up  preaching,  and  have  recourse  to  emetics, 
 blistering,  bleeding,  &c.  By  the  blessing  of  God  attending 
 these  means,  I  am  now  almost  well  again,  and  hope  to  be  able 
 soon  to  resume  my  labors.  I  am,  however,  still  weak,  and  can- 
 not write  much ;  but  I  was  fearful  you  would  hear  that  I  am 
 worse  than  I  really  am,  and  therefore  thought  it  best  to  write  a 
 few  linos." 
 
 .luNE  8.  This  is  a  most  melancholy  day  to  me.  It  is  the 
 Sabbath  on  which  we  should  have  had  the  communion  :  but  we 
 have  no  one  to  preach  for  us.  My  flock  are  scattered,  and  I  can 
 only  look  on  and  groan.  My  health  is  in  such  a  state,  that  I 
 can  feel  nothing  but  misery.  However,  this  blow  seemed  to 
 touch  me.  I  saw  that  it  was  just,  though  I  can  scarcely  be  said 
 to  have  felt  it.  To-morrow  I  expect  to  sail  for  Charleston,  with 
 a  view  to  the  recovery  of  my  health ;  but  I  go  with  a  heavy 
 heart.    There  appears  little  prospect  of  its  proving  beneficial." 
 
 "  July  16. 
 
 "  I  am  just  returned  from  Charleston.  My  health  is  much 
 improved.  I  had  a  very  pleasant  passage  out ;  but  a  most  tedi- 
 ous and  unpleasant  return.  The  captain  Avho  carried  me  out 
 was  as  kind  as  possible.    I  hope  he  has  his  reward.    He  ofier- 
 
372 
 
 M  E  JVI  0  I  R  OF 
 
 ed  to  carry  me  to  Europe,  and  bring  me  back,  without  a  far- 
 thing's expense.  It  would  have  been  gratifying  to  see  Old 
 England  ;  but  I  could  not  spare  the  time." 
 
 "  July  16.  O,  how  much  better  is  God  to  me  than  my  fears, 
 and  even  than  my  hopes  !  how  ready  to  answer  prayer  !  This 
 afternoon  he  has  banished  my  fears  and  sorrows,  strengthened 
 my  faith,  revived  my  hopes,  and  encouraged  me  to  go  on.  Had 
 a  precious  season  in  visiting  and  praying  with  some  of  my  peo- 
 ple, and  still  more  so  in  the  evening.  O,  how  wise  and  good  is 
 God!  Now  I  can  see  it  was  best  that  I  should  not  be  assisted 
 in  preaching  yesterday ;  for  it  drove  me,  in  self-despair,  to  the 
 throne  of  grace.  Whereas,  had  I  been  assisted,  I  might  have 
 remained  at  a  distance.  And  I  desire  to  record  it  to  the  honor 
 of  God,  and  my  own  shame,  that  I  never  went  to  him  in  dis- 
 tress, without  finding  almost  immediate  relief 
 
 "  July  25.  This  day  I  am  thirty-eight  years  old.  I  had  inten- 
 ded to  make  it  a  day  of  family  thanksgiving,  but  my  weakness 
 prevented.  Indeed,  ill  health  is  an  obstacle  continually  in  my 
 way,  almost  wholly  obstructing  my  usefulness  and  growth  in 
 grace.  Half  my  time,  I  am  so  languid  in  body  and  mind,  that 
 I  can  do  nothing ;  and  the  other  half,  I  am  very  far  from  being 
 well.  But  God  has  hitherto  graciously  supported  me,  so  that, 
 though  cast  down,  I  am  not  yet  destroyed.  As  to  resolving  that 
 I  will  do  better  in  future,  I  have  no  courage  to  do  it.  The  loss 
 of  so  many  years  withers  my  strength  and  courage,  and  dries 
 up  my  spirits." 
 
 "  Aug.  6.  1821. 
 
 Since  I  wrote  last  there  has  been  quite  a  change  in  me. 
 Then,  my  health  was  better,  but  my  mind  sick.  Now,  my 
 mind  is  comparatively  at  ease,  but  my  health  has  sunk  down 
 nearly  to  its  old  standard.  However,  this  state  is  vastly  more 
 comfortable  than  the  former,  and  1  desire  to  be  satisfied.  I  think, 
 my  dear  mother,  you  may  dismiss  all  anxiety  respecting  me.  I 
 am  in  wise  and  good  hands,  and  do  not  suffer  more  than  what 
 is  absolutely  necessary." 
 
 "Sept.  1.  While  lying  awake  last  night,  enjoyed  most  de- 
 lightful views  of  God  as  a  Father.  Felt  that  my  happiness  is 
 as  dear  to  him  as  to  myself;  that  he  would  not  willingly  hurt 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 373 
 
 one  hair  of  my  head,  nor  let  me  suffer  a  moment's  unnecessary 
 pain.  Felt  that  he  was  literally  as  willing  to  give  as  I  could 
 be  to  ask.    Seemed,  indeed,  to  have  nothing  to  ask  for." 
 
 In  a  letter,  dated  Sept.  10th,  after  alluding  to  "sore  trials," 
 and  especially  to  one,  of  several  events  which  had  a  most  mel- 
 ancholy and  disastrous  aspect  on  the  religious  prospects  of  the 
 church,  he  says,  "This,  coming  just  when  we  were  expecting  a 
 revival,  was  peculiarly  grievous;  but  I  still  hope,  after  God  has 
 crushed  us  into  the  dust,  he  will  exalt  us.  He  has  been  mOst 
 wonderfully  gracious  to  me  during  these  trials.  Never  before 
 have  I  enjoyed  such  consolations.  It  seems  as  evident  as  noon- 
 day, that  the  same  love  which  prompted  the  Saviour  to  bear  the 
 curse  for  us,  would  have  led  him  to  bear  all  our  afflictions  for 
 us,  were  it  not  absolutely  necessary  that  we  should  suffer  in  our 
 own  persons.  I  see,  I  feel,  that  he  would  as  soon  wound  the 
 apple  of  his  eye,  as  give  one  of  his  people  a  moment's  needless 
 pain.  I  care  not  what  trials  may  come,  for  I  know  that  they 
 will  be  for  my  good,  and  that  he  will  support  me." 
 
 At  the  commencement  at  Bowdoin  College,  this  month,  he 
 received  the  degree  of  Doctor  in  Divinity;  but  writes  to  his 
 mother — "I  beg  you  not  to  address  your  letters  to  me  by  that 
 title,  for  I  shall  never  make  use  of  it. " 
 
 ''Sept.  19.  Last  night,  while  lying  awake,  had  more  distinct 
 apprehensions  of  God's  greatness  than  at  any  previous  time. 
 Realized  little  of  any  thing  else  except  simple  greatness;  and 
 this,  although  I  seemed  to  have  no  views,  compared  with  what 
 might  be,  almost  crushed  me  to  death.  I  could  not  move  a  limb, 
 nor  scarcely  breathe.  Saw  how  easily  a  little  view  of  God 
 might  destroy  us.  Could  realize  more  than  ever,  that  a  clear 
 view  of  God  must  be  hell  to  the  wicked;  for  had  any  sen.se  of 
 his  anger  accompanied  this  view  of  his  greatness,  I  could  not 
 have  supported  it. 
 
 "Oct.  11.  Still  my  cup  runs  over  with  blessings.  God  gra- 
 ciously continues  to  grant  me  his  presence  when  I  lie  down,  and 
 when  I  rise  up ;  though  he  every  day  sees  enough  in  me  to  jus- 
 tify him  in  leaving  me  forever." 
 
 "Oct.  15. 
 
  "God  continues  to  be  wonderfully  gracious  to  me  in 
 
374 
 
 MEMOIR  or 
 
 spiritual  things.  I  know  not  what  it  means.  I  never  was  so 
 happy  for  so  long  a  time  before.  I  suspect  some  grievous  trial 
 is  approaching.  Let  it  come,  if  God  pleases.  While  he  is  with 
 me,  I  feel  entirely  independent  of  all  circumstances,  creatures, 
 and  events.  Yet  creature  comforts  are  pleasant,  when  we  can 
 enjoy  God  in  them. 
 
 "I  fear  will  do  the  church  little  good.    At  first  it 
 
 seemed  to  affect  them  in  a  proper  manner,  but  the  impression  is 
 fast  wearing  away.  Wliether  God  will  scourge  them  still  more 
 severely,  or  whether  he  will  come  and  melt  them  into  repentance 
 by  unexpected  displays  of  mercy,  1  do  not  know.  If  I  could 
 see  them  made  to  feel  what  a  God  Jehovah  is,  and  what  a  Sa- 
 viour Christ  is,  and  what  a  place  heaven  is !  But  I  do  not. 
 Still,  when  I  look  at  God  in  Christ,  and  see  how  good,  how  gra- 
 cious, how  condescending,  how  powerful  he  is,  I  am  compelled, 
 in  spite  of  myself,  to  hope,  and  almost  to  feel  sure,  that  I  shall, 
 sooner  or  later,  see  a  revival  of  religion  here.  It  may  be,  how- 
 ever, that  this  bright  day  is  designed  only  to  prepare  me  for  as 
 dark  a  night.  But  I  desire  to  do  present  duty,  to  enjoy  with 
 humble  gratitude,  present  happiness,  and  let  to-morrow  take 
 thought  for  itself" 
 
 "Nov.  25. 
 
  "A  young  man,  member  of  our  church,  is  just  settled, 
 
 and  a  revival  has  commenced.  About  fifty  are  awakened,  and 
 the  work  is  increasing.  He  makes  the  fourth  member  of  our 
 church,  who  has  been  settled  since  I  came  here. "  [Dr.  Payson 
 superintended  the  preparation  of  several  young  men  for  the 
 ministry.] 
 
 "Feb.  3,  1822. 
 
  ^" If  my  letter  takes  its  complexion  from  my  feelings,  it 
 
 will  appear  gloomy  indeed.  Since  I  wrote  last,  it  has  been  a 
 season  of  trial  with  me.  E.  has  a  terrible  abscess,  which  we 
 feared  would  prove  too  much  for  her  slender  constitution.  We 
 were  almost  worn  out  with  watching;  and,  just  as  she  began  to 
 amend,  I  was  seized  with  a  violent  ague  in  my  face,  which  gave 
 me  incessant  anguish  for  six  days  and  nights  together,  and  de- 
 prived me  almost  entirely  of  sleep.  Three  nights,  I  did  not 
 once  close  my  eyes.  When  almost  distracted  with  pain  and  loss 
 of  sleep,  Satan  was  let  loose  upon  me,  to  buffet  me,  and,  I  verily 
 thought,  would  have  driven  me  to  desperation  and  madness. 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 375 
 
 Nor  is  my  situation  now  much  better.  The  fact  is,  my  nervous 
 system,  at  all  times  weak,  has  been  so  shattered  by  pain,  and 
 watching,  and  strong  opiates,  which  gave  no  relief,  that  I  am 
 sunk  in  gloom  and  despondency,  and  can  only  write  bitter  things 
 against  myself  Surely  no  one  suffers  so  much  unprofitable 
 misery  as  I  do.  I  call  it  unprofitable,  because  it  is  of  such  a 
 nature  that  I  do  not  see  how  it  possibly  can  produce  any  good 
 effect.    It  only  Aveakens,  dispirits,  and  discourages  me. 
 
 "We  have  had  a  few  mstances  of  conviction,  and  at  least  one 
 of  conversion,  since  I  wrote  last;  and  the  church,  I  hope,  is 
 gaining  ground.  You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  eight  or  ten  are 
 awakened  in  Gorham." 
 
 "Feb.  5. 
 
 "  I  can  now  write  in  a  less  dismal  strain.  I  am  not  happy, 
 but  1  am  less  wretched.  I  feel,  that  while  such  a  creature  as  I 
 am  is  out  of  hell,  I  have  great  reason  for  thankfulness.  But 
 my  flesh  trembles,  and  my  blood  almost  runs  cold,  when  I  look 
 back  upon  what  I  have  suffered.  Certainly,  a  very  large  pro- 
 portion of  my  path  lies  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
 death.  Bishop  Hall  says — 'None  out  of  hell  have  suffered  so 
 much  as  some  of  God's  children;'  and  I  believe  it.  I  should 
 not,  however,  much  regard  my  sufferings,  if  they  were  sancti- 
 fied." 
 
 "Feb.  19. 
 
 "You  will  be  glad,  my  dear  mother,  to  hear  that  the  man 
 who  had  the  legion  is  sitting  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  in  his  right 
 mind.  I  had  obtained  some  relief,  when  I  wrote  you  last,  but 
 it  proved  of  short  continuance;  the  clouds  returned  after  the 
 rain,  and  I  was  again  in  the  horrible  pit  and  miry  clay,  and 
 there  remained  till  the  next  Sabbath.  But  now,  I  trust,  the 
 devil  is  cast  out,  though,  as  he  departed  from  our  Saviour  only 
 for  a  season,  I  know  not  how  soon  he  may  return.  You  know 
 Mr.  Newton  thinks,  that,  comparatively  speaking,  he  fights  with 
 neither  small  nor  great,  except  with  ministers.  I  know  not  how 
 this  may  be;  but  if  he  torments  others  as  he  does  me,  I  am  sure 
 I  pity  them.  I  am  now  so  worn  out  with  suffering  and  conflict, 
 that  I  seem  incapable  of  enjoyment;  but  T  feel  quiet  and  peace- 
 ful, and  that  is  a  great  mercy. 
 
 "  The  symptoms  of  a  revival  increase  among  us.  Perhaps  a 
 dozen  have  been  awakened  and  three  have  obtained  hope,  since 
 
376 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 I  wrote  last.  I  was  sent  for  to-day,  to  see  a  man  ninety-twc 
 years  old,  who,  after  a  long  life  of  sin,  is  aw^akened  in  his  old 
 age.  His  situation,  on  the  whole,  seems  encouraging,  though 
 he  is  nearly  blind  and  deaf" 
 
 "  Feb.  2G. 
 
 *'  The  revival  has  been  advancing,  and  there  now  seems  to 
 be  every  reason  to  hope,  that  God  has  begun  a  great  work 
 among  us.  I  would  not  be  too  sanguine,  but  things  look  more 
 favorable  than  they  have  for  seven  or  eight  years.  Every  day, 
 I  have  two,  and  three,  and  four  inquirers  to  see  me,  and  their 
 convictions  are  very  deep  and  pungent.  Three  have  just  ob- 
 tained hope. 
 
 '•  I  rejoice  the  more  in  this  work,  because  it  enables  me  to 
 stop  the  mouth  of  my  old  adversary,  and  to  prove  to  his  face 
 that  he  is  a  liar.  I  could  not  doubt  that  I  had  been  enabled  to 
 pray  for  a  revival  these  many  years.  Nor  could  I  persuade  my- 
 self, that  Christ  had  not  promised  it  to  me.  The  essence  of  a 
 promise  consists  in  voluntarily  exciting  expectation  of  some 
 benefit.  In  this  sense,  a  revival  had  often  been  promised  to  me. 
 And  when  it  was  not  granted;  when,  one  time  after  another, 
 promising  appearances  died  away  ;  and  especially  when  I  was 
 left  to  such  exercises  as  rendered  it  impossible  that  I  should 
 ever  be  favored  with  a  revival, — Satan  had  a  fine  opportunity 
 to  work  upon  my  unbelief,  and  to  ask,  Where  is  your  God  ? 
 what  do  you  get  by  praying  to  him  7  and  where  is  the  revival 
 which  he  has  been  so  long  encouraging  you  to  expect,  and  to 
 pray  for  ?  Now,  I  can  answer  these  questions  triumphantly, 
 and  put  the  lying  tongue  to  silence.  But  the  work  is  all  God's ; 
 and  I  stand  and  look  on  to  see  him  work ;  and  this  is  favor 
 enough,  and  infinitely  more  than  I  deserve. 
 
 "  You  spoke  in  your  last  of  poor  .    Rich  you  would 
 
 ca'il  him  now,  if  you  could  see  him.  He  has  made  more  pro- 
 gress in  religion  since  ,  than  he  would  in  twenty  years  of 
 
 ordinary  advancement.  I  feel  like  a  child  when  talking  with 
 him.  Truly  God's  ways  are  not  like  ours.  Meanwhile  poor 
 brother  Rand,  who  is  not  half  so  undeserving  of  a  revival  as  I 
 am,  is  laid  aside,  just  as  soon  as  favorable  symptoms  begin  to 
 appear.    His  physicians  speak  ^very  discouragingly." 
 
 "  March  7.    Preaclied  in  the  evening  to  the  largest  assembly 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 377 
 
 that  I  had  ever  addressed  at  a  Thursday  lecture.  Came  home 
 ericouraged,  and  rejoicing  in  God.  The  work  is  his  —  I  am 
 nothing,  and  love  to  be  nothing.  Dare  not  promise  to  serve 
 God  more  faithfully.  However  extensive  a  revival  he  may 
 send;  I  shall  again  be  stupid  and  ungrateful,  unless  he  pre- 
 vent." 
 
 "  March  17. 
 
 "  The  revival  goes  on.  Fifteen,  we  hope,  arc  converted  ;  and 
 four  times  that  number  under  deep  impressions.  But  in  the 
 midst  of  it  I  am  laid  aside.  My  lungs  have  been  failing  for 
 several  weeks,  and  I  can  preach  no  longer.  After  my  last 
 Thursday  lecture,  1  had  a  strange  turn.  Every  body  thought  I 
 was  dying.  It  was  occasioned  by  an  inability  in  the  heart,  to 
 free  itself  from  the  blood  which  poured  in  upon  it.  However, 
 the  doctor  came,  and  took  a  large  quantity  of  blood,  which  re- 
 lieved me.  But  I  am  just  as  I  was  last  spring,  and,  unless  God 
 interposes  to  help  me,  shall  be  unable  to  preach  for  weeks.  You 
 may  well  suppose  that  this  is  a  trying  dispensation  :  but  so  far 
 I  am  kept  quiet  under  it.  I  feel  that  it  is  not  only  just,  but 
 wise  and  kind.  Poor  brother  Rand  is  in  the  same  situation. 
 The  revival  among  his  people  increases,  but  he  can  do  nothing. 
 I  wish  P.  was  here ;  Ave  both  need  him." 
 
 "  May  20,  1823. 
 
  Caesar,  speaking  of  one  of  his  many  battles  which 
 
 was  severely  contested,  observed  that,  on  former  occasions,  he 
 had  fought  for  victory,  but  then  he  fought  for  life.  Even  so  it 
 is  witli  me.  Once  I  fought  for  victory,  and  no  ordinary  victory 
 would  satisfy  me  ;  but  my  strength,  and  courage,  and  ambition, 
 are  now  so  crushed,  that  I  fight  merely  for  life,  and  I  am 
 scarcely  able  to  secure  even  that.  Still  I  hope  for  victory  ulti- 
 mately. I  have  just  finished  a  sermon  on  Hezekiah's  petition, 
 '  O  Lord,  I  am  oppressed  ;  undertake  for  me.'  It  lias  s'lven  me 
 some  comfort ;  it  ought  to  give  me  more.  Indeed,  if  we  proper- 
 ly considered  who  Christ  is,  and  what  he  has  undertaken  to  do 
 for  us,  we  should  never  need  consolation,  but  might,  like  St. 
 Paul,  thougli  .sorrowful,  be  always  rejoicing ;  and  say  with  him 
 ■Blessed  be  God,  Avho  hath  blessed  us  with  all  spiritual  bless- 
 ings in  heavenly  places  in  Christ  .Tesus.'    I  have  prepared 
 
 VOL.  I.  48 
 
378 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 another  sermon  from  a  succeeding  passage  in  the  same  chapter, 
 '  Thou  hast,  in  love  to  niy  soul,  dehvered  it  from  the  pit  of  cor- 
 ruption.' The  words  '  deUvered  it '  are  not  in  the  original ; 
 and,  as  father  Henry  ohserves,  the  passage  may  be  read, 
 '  Thou  hast  loved  my  soul  from  the  pit  of  corruption;  thou  hast 
 loved  my  soul  when  it  was  in  the  pit  of  corruption,  and  thou 
 hast  loved  it  out  of  the  pit  of  corruption  ;  not  merely  taken  it 
 out,  and  redeemed  it  out,  but  loved  it  out.'  " 
 
 "  May  25. 
 
 "  My  sermon  on  Christ's  undertaking  for  us  does  me  more 
 and  more  good.  I  wish  I  could  impart  to  you  some  of  the  com- 
 fort which  it  gives  me.  I  wish  to  get  away  from  frames  and 
 feelings,  and  live  continually  on  the  precious  truth,  'Christ  has 
 undertaken  for  me.'  He  is  able,  he  is  faithful,  he  will  keep 
 what  he  has  undertaken  to  keep,  he  will  do  all  he  has  underta- 
 ken to  do.  Another  passage  has  been  very  sweet  to  me  this  morn- 
 ing, and  I  think  I  shall  preach  upon  it  next  Sabbath  :  '  He  hath 
 made  us  accepted  in  the  Beloved.'  To  be  accepted  of  God,  to 
 be  accepted  in  his  beloved  Son — what  an  honor  !  what  a  privi- 
 lege !  Well  may  it  be  said,  to  every  one  who  enjoys  it,  '  Go 
 thy  way,  eat  thy  bread  with  joy,  and  drink  thy  wine  with- a 
 merry  heart ;  for  God  now  acccpteth  thy  works.' 
 
 "  Our  church  began,  last  winter,  to  employ  a  domestic  mis- 
 sionary. They  sent  him  to  a  town  which  has  long  been  with- 
 out a  minister,  and  where,  just  before,  a  vain  attempt  had  been 
 made  to  raise  one  hundred  dollars  to  pay  for  preaching.  His 
 labors  produced  such  effect,  that  they  have  now  raised  a  perma- 
 nent fund,  which  will  support  a  minister  for  ever.  They  have 
 also  given  our  missionary  a  unanimous  call  to  settle  with  them. 
 We  shall  make  a  similar  experiment  in  another  town,  as  soon 
 as  we  can  find  a  suitable  missionary.  How  much  is  money 
 worth  at  such  a  time  as  this  !" 
 
 Dr.  Payson  describes  a  species  of  trial,  to  which  he  was  twice 
 subjected,  that  will,  probably,  at  the  first  glance,  surprise  those 
 who  were  acquainted  with  his  strong  confidence  in  revelation, 
 and  his  rich  experience  in  the  consolations  of  religion.  It 
 shows  most  vividly  the  awful  malice  of  the  "  accuser  of  the 
 brethren,"  whose  power  to  distress  Christians,  as  well  as  his 
 
EDWARD    PAY  SON. 
 
 379 
 
 agency  among  "  the  children  of  disobedience,"  is  greatly  under- 
 rated at  the  present  day  ;  and  even  his  existence  is  extensively 
 doubted.  Against  the  servant  of  God,  who  was  making  such 
 inroads  upon  his  kingdom,  he  seems  to  have  directed  all  his 
 "  fiery  darts."  They  gave  temporary  pain,  but  inflicted  no 
 mortal  wound.    The  adversary  was  foiled. 
 
 "  Dec.  5,  1823. 
 
  "I  have  been  sick,  and  laid  by  from  preaching  on 
 
 thanksgiving  day  and  two  Sabbaths,  but  am  now  able  to  re- 
 sume my  labors.  But  O  the  temptations  which  have  harassed 
 me  for  the  last  three  months !  1  have  met  with  nothing  like 
 them  in  books.  I  dare  not  mention  them  to  any  mortal,  lest 
 they  should  trouble  him  as  they  have  troubled  me  ;  but  should 
 I  become  an  apostate,  and  write  against  religion,  it  seems  to  mc 
 that  I  could  bring  forward  objections  which  would  shake  the 
 faith  of  all  the  Christians  in  the  world.  What  I  marvel  at  is, 
 that  the  arch  deceiver  has  never  been  permitted  to  suggest  them 
 to  some  of  his  scribes,  and  have  them  published.  They  would, 
 or  I  am  much  mistaken,  make  fearful  work  with  Christians  for 
 a  time,  though  God,  would  doubtless,  enable  them  to  overcome  iu 
 the  end.  It  seems  to  me,  that  my  state  has  been  far  worse  thau 
 that  of  Mansoul  was  when  Diabolus  and  his  legions  broke  into 
 the  town.  They  could  not  get  into  the  castle,  the  heart; 
 but  my  castle  was  full  of  them.  But  do  not  be  troubled  for 
 me;  I  am  now  better.  Let  me,  then,  try  to  comfort  my 
 mother." 
 
 The  other  passage,  depicting  a  similar  conflict,  was  written 
 about  a  year  and  a  half  later  than  the  above  mentioned:  — 
 
 "  It  seems  to  me,  that  those  who  die  young,  like  Brainerd 
 and  Martyn,  know  almost  nothing  of  the  difficulty  of  persever- 
 ing in  the  Christian  race.  My  difficulties  increase  every  year. 
 There  is  one  trial  which  you  cannot  know  experimentally.  It 
 is  that  of  being  obliged  to  preach  to  others,  when  one  doubts  of 
 every  thing,  and  can  scarcely  believe  that  there  is  a  God.  All 
 the  atheistical,  deistical,  and  heretical  objections,  which  I  meet 
 with  in  books,  are  childish  babblings,  compared  with  those 
 which  Satan  suggests,  and  which  he  urges  upon  the  mind  with 
 a  force  which  seems  irresistible.    Yet  I  am  often  obliged  to 
 
380 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 write  sermons,  and  to  preach,  when  these  objections  beat  upon 
 me  like  a  whirlwind,  and  almost  distract  me.  When  he 
 asks,  as  he  does  continually  ask,  What  have  you  gained  by  all 
 your  prayers  ?  I  know  not  what  to  reply.  However,  pray  1 
 rnust,  and  God  assisting  me,  pray  I  will.  The  way  is  indeed 
 difficult,  but  I  can  devise  no  other  which  is  not  more  so.  There 
 is  no  one  to  whom  I  can  go,  if  I  forsake  Christ." 
 
 As  to  the  influence  of  these  last  quoted  passages  on  the  read- 
 er's mind,  they  are  adapted,  not  to  raise  doubts  respecting  the 
 genuineness  and  authenticity  of  revelation,  but  to  strengthen  his 
 confidence  in  it,  as  the  sure  word  of  God,  which  endureth  for- 
 ever. The  obvious  and  legitimate  inference  from  them  is,  that 
 the  Bible  can  sustain,  uninjured,  attacks  and  objections,  as 
 much  more  formidable  than  any  which  have  been  directed  against 
 it  by  the  mightiest  infidels,  as  their  objections  are  superior  to  the 
 merest  "  childish  babblings."  If  such  tremendous  volleys,  from 
 the  enemy's  battery,  could  not  rend  away  the  foundations  of 
 Dr.  Payson's  faith,  however  they  might  distress  him  for  a  time, 
 that  faith  surely  rested  on  a  basis  as  firm  as  the  everlastmg  hills, 
 which  all  the  powers  of  earth  and  hell  will  for  ever  assail  in 
 vain.  An  opposite  conclusion  would  be  as  illogical  and  prepos- 
 terous as  it  is  false  in  itself.  No  reasonable  man  can  adduce 
 Dr.  Payson's  temptations  to  discredit  religion  ;  for  they  are 
 vanquished  temptations.  Be  it  remembered,  that  he  overcame 
 them  all.  However  weighty  or  numerous  the  objections  to  re- 
 vealed religion,  the  evidences  vastly  preponderate. 
 
 We  have  ascribed  these  "  doubts  and  temptations"  to  Satan, 
 without  undertaking  to  define  the  manner  or  degree  of  his  agen- 
 cy on  the  human  mind,  or  to  distinguish  his  suggestions  from 
 man's  voluntary  acts.  If  we  have  indicated  their  true  source,  it 
 should  not  surprise  us  that  these  doubts  respect  what  is  funda- 
 mental in  religion.  Dr.  Payson's  language,  on  another  occa- 
 sion, is  applicable  to  this  case:  "  Satan  will  not  disturb  a  false 
 peace,  because  it  is  a  peace  of  which  he  is  the  author."  For 
 the  same  reason,  he  would  not  disturb  a  man's  speculative  be- 
 lief in  a  religion  fundamentally  erroneous ;  for  this  would  be 
 •  dividing  against  himself,'  and  undermining  his  own  king- 
 dom. 
 
 It  seems,  from  numerous  facts,  which  might  be  adduced,  to 
 have  Dcen  in  the  counsels  of  God,  that,  among  those  whom 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 381 
 
 he  designed  to  be  distinguished  instruments  in  defending  and 
 promoting  the  pure  religion  of  the  Bible,  no  inconsiderable 
 number  should  be  subjected  to  the  severest  trials,  in  regard 
 to  its  claims  to  human  confidence.  That  laborious  and  suc- 
 cessful servant  of  God,  Richard  Baxter,  underwent  this  test. 
 John  Bunyan  had  long  and  distressing  trials  of  this  kind  : 
 "  Whole  floods  of  blasphemies,"  he  tells  us,  "  both  against  God, 
 Christ,  and  the  Scriptures,  were  poured  in  upon  his  spirit,  to 
 his  great  confusion  and  astonishment.  These  blasphemous 
 thoughts  stirred  up  questions  in  him  against  the  very  being  of 
 God,  and  of  his  only  beloved  Son ;  as  whether  there  were,  in 
 truth,  a  God  or  Christ,  and  whether  the  Holy  Scriptures  were 
 not  rather  a  fable  and  cunning  story,  than  the  holy  and  pure 
 word  of  God."  Even  his  pilgrim,  whose  experience  was  in- 
 tended to  represent  that  of  ordinary  Christians,  and  to  whose 
 fidelity,  in  its  grand  outlines  and  general  character,  every 
 evangelical  Christian  can  testify,  did  not  reach  the  celestial 
 city  without  encountering  atheistical  doubts  on  his  way  thither. 
 References  of  this  kind  might  be  multiplied  ;  but  Avhat  do 
 they  prove  ?  Not  that  the  Scriptures  are  false,  and  religion  a 
 delusion,  but  that  they  can  survive,  and  shine  ihe  brighter, 
 and  stand  the  firmer,  notwithstanding  the  most  malignant  and 
 desperate  assaults  of  their  most  powerful  foes.  By  these  tri- 
 als, considered  as  a  dispensation  of  God,  many  valuable  ends 
 are  answered.  The  champion  of  the  cross,  who  is  destined 
 to  make  wide  encroachments  on  the  kingdom  of  Satan,  must 
 not  be  "  ignorant  of  his  devices."  He  must  see  and  know 
 the  enemies  to  be  resisted,  in  order  to  wield  his  spiritual 
 weapons  with  skill  and  efiect.  When  Luther  took  the  "  cowl 
 and  tonsure,"  he  little  knew  for  what  purpose;  and  human 
 foresight  would  never  have  predicted  the  consequences  which 
 grew  out  of  his  seclusion.  But  it  was  in  a  monastery  that  he 
 acquired  that  knowledge  and  experience,  which  fitted  him  for 
 the  peculiar  part  which  he  was  subsequently  to  act,  in  demol- 
 ishing monastic  institutions,  and  in  kindhng  and  spreading 
 the  light  of  the  glorious  reformation.  His  own  testimony  rec- 
 ognises, what  every  Christain  will  readily  admit,  that  the 
 design  of  God,  in  permitting  him  to  become  a  monk,  was  very 
 different  from  that  of  the  adversary  in  tempting  him  to  be 
 one  :  — "  Of  the  propriety  of  my  conduct  at  that  time,  my 
 
382 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 opinion  has  certainly  undergone  a  change  ;  but  God,  by  his 
 infiuite  wisdom  and  mercy,  has  been  pleased  to  produce  great 
 good  out  of  evil.  Satan  seems  to  have  anticipated  in  me, 
 from  my  infancy,  some  of  those  qualities  which  have  since 
 appeared ;  and,  to  prevent  the  progress  of  tlie  cause  in  which 
 I  have  been  instrumental,  he  affected  my  mind  to  such  a 
 degree  as  to  make  me  often  wonder  whether  I  was  the  only 
 creature  whom  he  tormented.  Now,  however,  I  perceive  that 
 God  directed  that  I  should  acquire,  by  personal  experience,  a 
 knowledge  of  the  constitution  of  universities  and  monasteries, 
 that  my  opponents  might  have  no  handle  to  boast  that  I  pre- 
 tended to  condemn  things  of  which  I  was  ignorant.  It  was 
 ordained,  therefore,  that  I  should  pass  part  of  my  life  in  a 
 monastery." 
 
 But,  while  it  is  a  grand  object  with  that  "adversary,  who 
 goeth  about  as  a  roaring  lion,  seeking  whom  he  may  devour," 
 to  weaken,  and,  if  possible,  to  destroy,  the  faith  of  God's  people 
 in  the  fundamental  articles  of  religion,  and  to  shake  their  hope 
 of  a  personal  interest  in  its  blessings,  there  is  something  in  the 
 man  himself  which  makes  him  anxious  on  these  points,  and 
 predisposes  him  to  tremble,  lest  they  should  not  abide  the  test. 
 And  no  wonder ;  for  they  concern  his  eternal  well-being. 
 Where  he  regards  his  all  as  depending,  it  is  natural  that  he 
 should  feel  his  ground,  and  look  well  to  his  foundation.  If  he 
 fail  here,  he  suffers  a  total  failure.  Hence  we  often  see  persons 
 more  confident  respecting  the  circumstantials  of  religion,  than 
 they  are  concerning  its  essentials.  Anecdotes  exhibiting  this 
 quality  will  occur  to  every  one  on  reflection. 
 
 The  doubts  which,  during  his  early  investigation  of  theologi- 
 cal subjects,  Dr.  Payson  expressed  respecting  some  points  of  the 
 Calvinistic  system,  or  the  doctrines  which  are  usually  thus  des- 
 ignated, cannot,  without  manifest  perversion,  be  used  to  the 
 prejudice  of  evangelical  truth  ;  for  to  them,  also,  the  reasoning 
 above  most  forcibly  applies.  In  the  resolution  of  these  doubts, 
 in  such  a  mind  as  his,  there  is  a  testimony  to  the  truth  of  the 
 doctrines  of  grace  too  valuable  to  be  lost.  Every  shock  which 
 they  receive  leaves  them  more  firmly  established.  By  the  same 
 means,  they  acquired  a  hold  on  his  own  soul,  which  his  power- 
 ful and  exasperated  foe  could  not  disengage,  though  the  effort 
 sunk  him  "  in  heaviness  for  a  season,  through  the  manifold 
 
I 
 
 EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 383 
 
 temptations"  which  accompanied  it.  Of  the  doctrines  of  grace, 
 no  man  was  ever  more  "  fully  persuaded  in  his  own  mind"  than 
 Dr.  Payson,  and  the  influence  of  this  persuasion  was  most  pow- 
 erful in  wresting  from  "  the  god  of  this  world"  some  of  his  most 
 valued  subjects.  It  was  a  means  of  converting,  from  a  lax 
 theology  and  consequent  indifference  to  eternal  concerns,  to 
 evangelical  faith  and  obedience,  some  who  were  distinguished 
 for  their  standing  and  their  wealth.  The  enemy  of  all  righte- 
 ousness saw  no  way  to  shake  his  firmness  in  these  doctrines, 
 except  by  an  attempt  to  discredit  that  revelation  of  God,  in 
 which  they  are  found.  Hence,  probably,  the  peculiar  trials 
 which  have  occasioned  these  remarks. 
 
 The  reader,  however,  is  not  to  infer,  that  the  doubts  and 
 temptations  above  recorded  are  any  necessary  part  of  religion : 
 or,  indeed,  that  they  are  among  the  healthful  operations  of  piety. 
 This  is  far  from  being  the  case.  They  have  their  occasion, 
 partly,  at  least,  in  bodily  and  even  spiritual  disease ;  under  the 
 influence  of  which  the  subjects  of  them  are  peculiarly  liable  to 
 the  vexations  and  blasphemous  assaults  of  Satan.  And  doubt- 
 less they  should  be  viewed  as  chastisements,  as  well  as  grievous 
 calamities ;  and  if  a  man  could  know  all  that  was  in  his  heart, 
 he  might  know  to  what  sin  or  sinful  tendency  the  punishment 
 was  suited.  Bunyan,  after  having  been  delivered  from  these 
 horrid  exercises,  which  he  endured  for  a  long  time,  attributed 
 them  chiefly  to  two  causes  :  "  That,  after  being  freed  from  one 
 temptation,  he  did  not  still  pray  to  God  to  keep  him  from  the 
 temptation  that  was  to  come  ;"  and  "  That  he  had  tempted  God, 
 not  by  any  outward  act,  but  by  secretly  saying  in  his  heart. 
 Lord,  if  now  thou  wilt  remove  this  sad  affliction,  .... 
 then  shall  1  know  that  thou  canst  discern  the  most  secret  thoughts 
 of  the  heart."  The  affliction  was  suddenly  removed ;  but,  for 
 his  presumption,  a  sting  was  left  in  his  conscience  more  intoler- 
 able than  any  bodily  anguish;  So  far  as  these  trials  were  visit- 
 ed upon  Dr.  Payson  as  a  chastisement,  it  must  have  been  for 
 sins  of  the  heart ;  for  outwardly  he  was  remarkably  circum- 
 spect. The  external  act  which  cost  him  more  anguish  than  any 
 other  act  in  his  life,  and  which  is  dwelt  upon  more  circumstan- 
 tially than  any  other  in  his  journal,  was  one,  in  itself  of  the 
 most  trifling  and  indiiferent  character,  too  insignificant  to  be 
 specified ;  and  yet  was  so  associated  in  his  mind  with  other 
 
384 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 circumstances,  as  to  distress  him  beyond  measure,  and  excite 
 his  fears  that  he  was  completely  given  over  into  the  hands  of 
 the  enemy.  Still  the  reasonings  which  he  applies  to  the  case, 
 even  at  the  time,  are  strikingly  apposite,  scriptural,  and  ration- 
 al, and  ought  to  have  brought  him  complete  relief  Tliat  they 
 did  not,  shows  rather  the  strength  of  his  malady,  than  the  degree 
 of  his  guilt. 
 
 Let  it  then  be  fixed  in  the  mind,  that  these  horrible  exercises 
 are  not  to  be  coveted  as  a  necessary  part  of  Christian  experi- 
 ence. Far  otherwise;  it  should  be  our  daily  prayer  to  be  kept 
 from  such  temptations.  As  a  defence  against  them,  we  should 
 trust  in  God  at  all  times,  and  pour  out  our  hearts  before  him. 
 We  should  strive  to  banish  such  suggestions  from  the  mind, 
 when  they  enter  it,  and  to  hold  up  the  shield  of  faith  as  a 
 defence  against  these  fiery  darts  of  the  devil,  when  we  see  them 
 approaching.  '*  Tell  me,"  says  Baxter,  "what  you  would  do. 
 if  you  heard  a  scold  in  the  street  reviling  you,  or  heard  an 
 atheist  there  talk  against  God ;  wolild  you  stand  still  to  hear 
 them,  or  rather  go  from  ihem,  and  disdain  to  hear  them,  or 
 debate  the  case  with  such  as  they  ?  Do  you,  in  your  case,  when 
 Satan  casts  in  ugly,  or  despairing,  or  murmuring  thoughts,  go 
 away  from  them  to  some  other  thoughts  or  business.  .  .  . 
 To  be  tempted,  is  common  to  the  best.  Yet  be  not  too  much 
 troubled  at  the  temptation ;  for  trouble  of  mind  doth  keep  the 
 evil  matter  in  your  memory,  and  so  increase  it,  as  the  pain  of  a 
 sore  draws  the  blood  and  spirits  to  the  place.  And  this  is  the 
 design  of  Satan,  to  give  you  troubling  thoughts,  and  then 
 to  cause  more,  by  being  troubled  at  those;  and  so,  for  one 
 thought  and  trouble,  to  cause  another,  and  that  another,  and 
 so  on." 
 
 That  physical  constitution  and  temperament  which  qualify 
 men  to  exert  an  uncommon  influence  over  their  fellow  men,  to 
 excite  their  sympathies,  to  touch  the  springs  of  action,  and  call 
 their  feelings  into  vigorous  exercise ;  to  rouse,  impel  and  guide  a 
 whole  community,  and  to  leave  an  example  which  shall  act 
 with  impressive  energy  upon  posterity,  seem  also  to  have  been 
 connected,  in  many  eminent  instances,  with  a  predisposition  to 
 melancholy  and  depression.  Luther  is  a  distinguished  example 
 of  these  apparently  opposite  qualities.  "  He,  who  was  so  bold 
 in  asserting  the  cause  of  Christianity,  and  so  fearless  of  person- 
 
EDWAR  D  PAYSON. 
 
 385 
 
 al  danger  in  its  promotion,  was  not  unfrequently  sunk  in  despon- 
 dency, and  was  doubtful  even  whether  he  was  a  real  Chris- 
 tian." Thus  God  hath  set  one  thing  over  against  the  other, 
 that  all  may  feel  their  dependence,  and  that  no  flesh  might  glory 
 in  his  presence. 
 
 When  Christ  said  to  Peter,  "  Satan  hath  desired  to  have  thee 
 that  he  may  sift  thee  as  wheat,"  he  immediately  after  indica- 
 ted his  own  purpose,  in  permitting  that  disciple  to  fall,  by  the 
 injunction,  "When  thou  art  converted,  strengthen  thy  brethren." 
 It  is  perfectly  obvious,  that,  after  his  fall  and  recovery,  he  was, 
 in  some  respects,  better  qualified  to  edify  the  church  of  God 
 than  either  of  his  fellow  disciples,  or  than  he  could  have  been 
 himself  without  the  experience  of  that  guilty,  shameful,  melt- 
 ing, heart-breaking  process  of  backsliding  and  recovery.  He 
 exercised  a  train  of  emotions,  to  which  he  must  otherwise  have 
 been  a  stranger,  and  which  had  a  most  important  influence  on 
 his  own  character  and  labors,  as  a  minister  of  Christ,  as  well 
 as  on  his  success.  Bunyan  enumerates  several  advantages  as 
 accruing  from  his  torturing,  frightful  temptations;  such  as  a 
 wonderful  sense  of  the  blessing  and  glory  of  God,  and  of  his 
 beloved  Son.  The  glory  of  God's  holiness  did  break  him  to 
 pieces,  and  the  compassion  of  Christ  did  break  him  as  on  the 
 wheel.  The  Scriptures  also  were  wonderful  things  to  him  ;  he 
 saw  more  into  the  nature  of  the  promises  than  ever  before ;  for 
 while  he  lay  trembling  under  the  mighty  hand  of  God,  continu- 
 ally rent  and  torn  by  the  thundering  of  his  justice,  it  made  him, 
 with  a  careful  heart  and  watchful  eye,  turn  over  every  leaf, 
 and,  with  much  diligence,  mixed  with  much  trembling,  to  con- 
 sider every  sentence  together  with  its  natural  force  and  latitude. 
 It  cured  him  of  putting  off  the  word  of  promise  when  it  came 
 into  his  mind.  He  did  not  look  principally  for  comfort,  though 
 it  would  have  been  inexpressibly  welcome,  but  a  word  to  lean  a 
 weary  soul  upon,  that  it  may  not  sink  forever.  He  saw  those 
 heights  and  depths  in  grace,  and  love,  and  mercy,  which  he 
 never  saw  before ;  and  that,  where  guilt  is  most  terrible  and 
 fierce,  there  the  mercy  of  God  in  Christ,  when  showed  to  the 
 soul,  appears  most  high  and  mighty  7  Without  these  deep  and 
 painful  experiences,  could  he  ever  have  been  so  eminently  suc- 
 cessful in  guiding  pilgrims  through  the  snares  of  their  difficult 
 road,  or  have  set  so  many  way-marks  to  keep  them  from  "  the 
 
 VOL.  I.  49 
 
386 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 enchanted  ground,"  from  "  doubting  castle,"  and  giant 
 Despair?"  By  similar  discipline  was  Dr.  Payson  prepared 
 to  bring  relief  to  the  afflicted  people  of  God,  as  has  been  al- 
 ready seen.  Costly  as  was  his  experimental  knowledge,  he  was 
 a  thousand  times  repaid  for  it,  by  being  made  the  minister  of 
 peace  to  the  worried  and  affrighted  sheep  of  Christ's  fold.  Shall 
 we  therefore  do  evil  that  good  may  come  ?  God  forbid.  If  we 
 are  exempted  from  these  distresses  while  we  are  enabled  to  give 
 due  attention  to  the  concerns  of  our  souls,  our  thanks  to  God 
 should  abound.    We  now  return  from  this  digression. 
 
 "Jan.  1,  1824.  Rose  early,  and  tried  to  pray;  but  a  weak, 
 languid  frame  crushed  me  down.  I  have,  however,  reason  to 
 bless  God,  that  he  allows  such  a  wretch  as  I  am  to  serve  him 
 at  all.  Groaned  and  struggled  with  my  weakness  before 
 God.  Read  a  number  of  passages  in  my  diary,  especially 
 what  is  recorded  under  date  of  Dec.  16,  1815.  Am  glad  I  kept 
 a  journal.  I  had  otherwise  forgotten  much  of  what  I  have  done 
 against  God,  and  of  what  he  has  done  for  me.  Was  confound- 
 ed at  what  I  read.  My  words  are  swallowed  up.  My  life,  my 
 ministry,  has  been  madness,  madness!  What  shall  I  do 7 
 Where  shall  I  hide?  To  sin,  after  I  had  sinned  so  much,  and 
 after  I  had  been  forgiven  !  But  I  cannot  write  !  I  cannot 
 think !  And  if  my  sins  appear  so  black  in  my  book,  how  do 
 they  appear  in  God's  ! 
 
 "  Jan.  29.  Have  had  much  to  be  thankful  for,  and  much  to 
 be  ashamed  of,  for  some  days  past.  God  has  been  more  than 
 ordinarily  gracious  to  me,  granting  me  liberty  of  access  to  him 
 in  prayer,  and  permitting  me  to  be,  in  some  degree,  useful.  I 
 have  received  many  tokens  of  warm  affection  from  his  people, 
 and  been  assisted  in  my  work  Have  learned  a  les- 
 son which  I  ought  to  have  learned  before.  I  am  religiously 
 romantic.  I  am  always  expecting  something  out  of  the  common 
 course,  and  planning  what  God  is  going  to  do. 
 
 "May  15.  Rode  to  G.  to  give  them  a  day's  preaching,  as 
 they  are  destitute.  Took  up  a  poor  cripple  by  the  way,  and 
 preached  Christ  to  him.  Felt  some  pity  and  love  for  him,  while 
 talking.  A  curious  combination  of  circumstances  threw  him  in 
 my  way.    Could  not  but  thinlc  how  we  both  should  admire  the 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 387 
 
 readings  of  Providence,  if  he  should  be  converted  in  consequence 
 of  what  was  said  to  him. 
 
 "July  20.  Perplexed  what  to  do.  My  people  wish  me  to  go 
 to  Europe.    Tried  to  commit  the  case  to  God. 
 
 "  Oct.  17.  Slept  none  last  night,  and  my  sufferings  were  great. 
 My  right  arm  seems  about  to  perish.  Could  say,  God's  will  be 
 done. 
 
 "Nov.  7.  What  I  have  long  feared  has  come  upon  me.  My 
 voice  and  my  faculties  are  half  gone  already,  and  what  remains 
 is  rapidly  departing. 
 
 "Nov.  27.  Was  favored  with  a  most  precious  season  in 
 prayer.  Had  such  views  of  God  and  Christ !  Lay  and  mourn- 
 ed at  his  feet,  till  I  was  exhausted,  and  longed  unutterably  to  be 
 more  holy,  and  to  have  others  holy.  O,  what  reason  have  I  to 
 bless  God  for  this! 
 
 "Jan.  5,  1825.  At  the  concert  on  Monday,  recommended  to 
 the  church  to  imitate  the  Lord's  prayer,  and  always  begin  their 
 supplications  with  praying  that  God's  name  may  be  glorified. 
 Have  derived  much  benefit  from  pursuing  this  practice.  Made 
 eleven  visits,  and  felt  thankful  for  having  strength  to  do  it. 
 
 "Jan.  31.  Felt  very  happy  and  dead  to  the  world,  all  day. 
 Rejoiced  in  God,  and  cared  not  what  he  did  with  me. 
 
 "  Feb.  9.  Had  a  delightful  season  in  prayer.  It  seemed  as 
 <f  it  was  only  to  ask  and  receive.  Had  nothing  to  ask  for  my- 
 self, except  that  I  might  be  swallowed  up  in  the  will  of  God. 
 
 "Feb.  15,  16.  Much  engaged  in  visiting.  Went  to  the  ut- 
 most extent  of  my  strength.  Felt  insatiable  desires  for  more 
 holiness. " 
 
 "  Boston,  March  21,  1825. 
 "My  dear  mother: — lvalue  your  letters  much,  and  your 
 prayers  still  more  ;  and  sometimes  think  that  your  life  is  pre- 
 served, principally,  to  pray  for  your  children.  It  will  be  found, 
 I  doubt  not,  in  the  coming  world,  that  ministers  had  much  less 
 share  in  the  success  which  attends  their  labors,  than  is  now  sup- 
 posed. It  will  be  found,  that,  if  they  drew  the  bow,  the  prayers 
 of  Christians  pointed  and  guided  the  arrow.  I  preached  last 
 evening  to  an  immense  concourse  of  people.  After  the  pews 
 were  filled,  seats  were  brought  in,  and  placed  in  ail  the  aisles. 
 So  far  as  I  know,  however,  very  little  good  has  been  done  by 
 
388 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 my  labors  here.  But  I  desire  to  leave  it  all  with  God.  I  am 
 astonished  and  ashamed  by  the  kindness  with  which  his  people 
 here  treat  me.       *  *  *  * 
 
 '•You  express  a  wish  that  my  feelings  were  more  equable. 
 I  wish  they  were.  But  I  am  so  completely  wretched  when  God 
 withdraws  from  me,  that  the  removal  of  that  wretchedness  by 
 his  return,  renders  me  almost  too  happy.  This  thought  has 
 lately  been  of  some  service  to  me.  Every  Christian  ought  to 
 love  God  in  proportion  to  what  has  been  forgiven  him.  But 
 every  Christian  knows  more  evil  of  himself  than  he  can  know 
 of  any  other  human  being.  He  ought  therefore  to  feel  as  if 
 more  had  been  forgiven  him,  and  as  if  he  were  under  greater 
 obligations  to  love  God  than  any  other  human  being;  as  if  it 
 were  worse  for  him  to  sin  against  God  than  it  would  be  for  any 
 other." 
 
 "  Portland,  July  27. 
 
  "I  had  attempted  to  observe  my  birth-day  as  a  day  of 
 
 prayer,  but  apparently  to  no  purpose.  I  was  so  unwell  that  I 
 could  do  nothing.  However,  the  next  day,  the  blessings  wliich 
 I  wished  to  ask' for,  but  could  not,  were  bestowed.  I  need  not 
 tell  you  how  sweet,  how  soothing,  how  refreshing,  Christ's  re- 
 turning presence  is,  after  long  absence.  Still  I  am  borne  down 
 in  such  a  manner  by  ill  health,  that  I  can  but  half  rejoice.  The 
 state  of  religion  among  us  helps,  also,  to  crush  me.  There 
 never  has  been  so  entire  a  suspension  of  divine  influences,  since 
 my  settlement,  as  at  present.  Those  of  the  church  who  are 
 most  spiritual,  tell  me  that  they  never  found  it  so  difficult  to 
 perform  religious  duties,  as  they  do  now.  In  fine,  the  church 
 seems  to  be  on  Bunyan's  enchanted  ground,  and  many  of  them 
 are  sleeping  in  some  of  the  arbors  which  he  mentions.  Whether 
 they  will  wake  before  death,  seems  doubtful.  " 
 
 "Sept.  29. 
 
  "I  preached  last  Sabbath  on  being  guilty  of  the  blood  of 
 
 souls;  and  endeavored  to  point  out  some  of  the  ways  in  which 
 we  may  incur  this  guilt.  I  have  incurred  but  too  much  of  it; 
 and  it  lies  upon  me  with  a  weight  which  I  know  not  how  to 
 bear,  but  which  I  cannot  throw  off.  True,  blood  has  been  shed 
 for  us,  which  has  efficacy  to  take  away  the  guilt  of  blood.  But 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 389 
 
 though  this  consideration  may  keep  us  from  despair,  it  cannot 
 shield  us,  or,  at  least,  cannot  shield  one  whose  guilt  is  like  mine, 
 from  the  sufferings  occasioned  by* self-reproach,  and  a  wounded 
 spirit.  I  seldom  think  of  the  time  I  spent  in  B.  without  a  pang, 
 the  keenness  of  which  you  cannot  easily  conceive.  It  is  a  pain- 
 ful thought,  that  we  are  so  long  in  learning  how  to  live,  that 
 ere  the  lesson  is  well  learned,  life  is  spent.  Another  subject,  on 
 which  I  have  lately  been  writing,  and  which  has  assisted  to 
 increase  my  depression,  was  suggested  by  the  passage  —  'Even 
 Christ  pleased  not  himself '  If  any  one,  who  ever  lived  in  this 
 world,  had  a  right  to  please  himself,  he  surely  had  such  a  right; 
 yet  how  far  was  he  from  exercising  or  claiming  it !  He  evidently 
 adopted  and  acted  upon  the  principle,  that,  as  man,  he  was  not 
 his  own;  that  he  belonged  to  God,  and  to  the  universe,  and  that 
 he  must  do  nothing  merely  for  the  sake  of  promoting  his  own 
 personal  gratification.  I  contemplate  this  example  with  feelings 
 similar  to  those  with  which  a  child,  who  has  just  begun  to  hold 
 a  pen,  may  be  supposed  to  look  upon  a  superb  copper-plate, 
 which  he  is  required  to  imitate;  or,  rather,  with  such  feelings  as 
 one  might  indulge,  who  had  been  learning  to  write  for  many 
 years,  and  yet  found  himself  further  from  resembling  his  copy, 
 than  he  was  at  first.  " 
 
 "Nov.  4.  Quarterly  fast.  Went  to  meeting  feeling  very 
 unwell,  and  found  very  few  assembled.  Was  obliged  to  wait 
 lialf  an  hour  before  there  was  a  sufficient  number  to  sing.  Was 
 entirely  overcome  by  discouragement.  Could  not  say  a  word, 
 and,  after  struggling  in  vain  with  my  feelings,  was  obliged  to 
 state  them  to  the  church  and  come  away. 
 
 "Nov.  9.  Installation  of  a  minister  over  the  Third  Church, 
 to-day.  Have  reason  to  be  thankful,  that  I  have  been  carried 
 through  this  business  of  separation  so  well,  and  that  alfection 
 for  those  who  have  left  us  is  rather  increased  than  diminished.  " 
 
 This  last  date  brings  us  down  to  a  period,  from  which  his 
 health  may  be  said  to  have  been  constantly  dechning.  The 
 progress  of  the  maladies,  which  were  wasting  away  his  frame, 
 may  have  been  stayed  for  a  few  days  or  weeks  in  succession, 
 after  this;  but  their  hold  on  him  was  never  more  weakened. 
 The  winter  succeeding  was  one  of  infirmity  and  suffering.  He 
 cfliitinued  to  preach  on  the  Sabbath;  but  the  exhaustion  conse- 
 
390 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 quent  upon  the  exertion,  often  rendered  it  difficult  for  him  to 
 reach  his  home,  distant  but  a  few  rods.  So  much  overcome 
 was  he,  as  to  be  physically  unable  to  lead  the  devotions  of  his 
 own  family;  and  his  Sabbath  nights  were  nights  of  restlessness 
 and  anguish.  Still,  when  holy  time  again  returned,  he  longed 
 for  the  habitation  of  God's  house,  and  again  repeated  his  etforts, 
 and  with  similar  consequences. 
 
 Observing  with  alarm  this  prostration  of  his  strength,  his  peo- 
 ple, in  the  spring  of  1826,  resolved  upon  an  alteration  of  their 
 mcetmg-house,  with  a  view  to  his  relief  The  ceiUng  was 
 brought  down  and  arched,  and  the  floor  inclined  towards  the 
 pulpit,  by  which  changes  more  than  one-third  of  the  space  to 
 be  filled  by  the  speaker's  voice  was  excluded,  and  the  difficulty 
 of  filling  it  diminished  in  a  still  greater  proportion.  It  was 
 while  this  alteration  was  in  progress,  that  he  made  his  circuitous 
 and  last  journey  to  the  Springs,  which  has  already  been  men- 
 tioned. 
 
 On  arriving  there,  he  said  to  Mr.  Whelpley,  in  allusion  to  his 
 health  —  "I  am  in  pursuit  of  a  good  which  is  constantly  flying 
 before  me,  and  which,  I  apprehend,  will  forever  elude  my  grasp. " 
 '  The  incessant  and  unremitted  labor  of  years,  "  adds  Mr.  W., 
 "seemed  to  have  left  him  but  a  mere  wreck  of  being,  which  he 
 longed  to  be  rid  of  to  serve  God  in  a  region  of  perfect  health 
 and  boundless  activity.  He  had  little  expectation  of  recovering 
 his  health,  and  several  times  remarked,  that,  if  it  was  the  will 
 of  God  to  take  him  away  speedily,  it  was  no  matter  how  soon 
 he  departed.  The  idea  of  wearing  out  his  days  in  a  state  of 
 inactivity  and  consequent  depression,  Avas  distressing  to  him, 
 and  made  him  deeply  solicitous  to  have  the  question  of  life  and 
 death  fully  settled.  Sometimes,  said  he,  when  I  retire  to  bed,  I 
 should  be  happy  to  have  it  the  last  night  of  my  life.  With  Job 
 he  might  say  —  "I  am  made  to  possess  months  of  vanity,  and 
 wearisome  nights  are  appointed  unto  me.  When  I  lie  down,  I 
 say.  When  shall  I  arise,  and  the  night  be  gone?  I  am  full  of 
 tossings  to  and  fro  unto  the  dawning  of  the  day  !  When  I  say, 
 My  bed  shall  comfort  me,  and  my  couch  shall  ease  my  complaint; 
 then  thou  scarest  me  with  dreams,  and  terrifiest  me  with  night 
 visions;  so  that  my  soul  chooseth  strangling  and  death  rather 
 lhan  life.    I  loathe  it;  I  would  not  live  alway." 
 
 Mr.  Whelpley  imagined — and  in  this  he  was  unquestionably 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 391 
 
 correct  —  that  the  sufferings  of  Dr.  Payson  were  greater  than 
 any  one  knew  or  suspected  ;  and  he  adds,  "  they  were  endured, 
 for  the  most,  in  silence.  At  midnight,  he  would  arise  and  walk 
 his  room,  singing  some  plaintive  air.  At  first,  I  knew  not  what 
 to  make  of  the  unwonted  and  mournful  sounds,  which  broke  in 
 upon  my  slumbers ;  and  often,  as  the  sound  softly  died  away, 
 my  soul  was  filled  with  sadness.  He  complained  inuch  of  his 
 head.  In  one  conversation,  he  dwelt  particularly  on  the  causes 
 which  had  operated  to  undermine  and  destroy  his  health. 
 Among  them  was  his  great  and  increasing  anxiety  for  a  general 
 and  powerful  revival  of  religion  among  his  people ;  his  incessant 
 labors  to  secure  so  great  a  blessing,  and  the  repeated  disappoint- 
 ments he  had  experienced  from  year  to  year.  We  would  seem, 
 said  Dr.  Payson,  to  be  on  the  eve  of  an  extensive  revival,  and 
 my  hopes  would  be  correspondently  raised ;  and  then  the  favor- 
 able appearances  would  vanish  away.  Under  the  powerful 
 excitement  of  hope,  and  under  the  succeeding  depression  arising 
 from  disappointment,  my  strength  failed,  and  I  sunk  rapidly 
 under  my  labors.  He  spoke  of  having  been  under  a  temptation, 
 constantly,  to  labor  beyond  his  strength;  and  believed  many  a 
 faithful  minister  had  thus  been  tempted  by  Satan  to  cut  short 
 his  days.  In  this  way  his  own  life  had  been  shortened.  When, 
 in  a  season  of  excitement,  he  had  exhausted  his  whole  strength, 
 even  then  Satan  suggested  that  he  had  not  done  enough,  but 
 must  do  much  more,  or  be  counted  unfaithful." 
 
 If  the  proofs  of  his  disinterestedness  were  not  so  abundant 
 and  conclusive,  this  ceaseless  anxiety  for  a  revival  could  liardl)'- 
 be  regarded  otherwise  than  as  a  sinful  impatience,  and  as  indi- 
 cating a  want  of  gratitude  for  what  God  did  perform  by  him. 
 It  appears  the  more  remarkable,  when  contemplated  in  con- 
 nexion with  the  fact,  that  the  church  was  continually  growing 
 under  his  ministrations,  and  the  congregation  enlarging,  until 
 there  was  not  room  enough  to  receive  them.  There  are  many 
 good  ministers,  who  would  consider  themselves  favored  by  such 
 a  measure  of  success  as  attended  his  least  honored  labors.  In 
 no  year  of  his  ministry  did  his  church  receive  less  than  ten  new 
 members,  and  in  only  one  year  so  small  a  number ;  while,  at 
 another  time,  the  yearly  increase  was  seventy-three,  and  in  the 
 year  of  his  death,  seventy-nine ;  and  the  average  number  Avas 
 more  than  thirty-five  a  year  during  the  Avhole  of  his  ministry. 
 
392 
 
 M  E  M  0 I R  OF 
 
 If  there  were  an  entire  suspension  of  divine  influences  at  any 
 time,  it  was  of  temporary  duration.  Judging  from  the  acces- 
 sions made  to  the  church,  there  must  have  been  a  constant  and 
 gradual  work  of  God.  If  the  term  of  his  ministry  be  divided 
 into  periods  of  five  years,  the  number  added  in  each  period 
 differs  from  that  of  any  other  period,  by  a  comparatively  small 
 number.  The  difference  is  in  favor  of  the  first  two  periods, 
 when,  with  fewer  bodily  infirmities,  he  "  ceased  not  dailj',  and 
 from  house  to  house,  to  testify  repentance  towards  God,  and 
 faith  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 
 
 About  mid-summer,  he  returned  from  his  last  excursion 
 abroad  to  the  bosom  of  his  family  and  flock,  and  coiitnuied  to 
 employ  the  little  strength  which  remained  in  making  known 
 Jesus  Christ  and  him  crucified.  From  this  labor  no  eiuieaties 
 could  prevail  with  him  to  desist.  He  continued  to  occupy  his 
 pulpit  on  the  Sabbath,  for  the  most  part,  through  the  following 
 winter;  notwithstanding  parts  of  his  body,  particularly  his 
 right  arm,  had  already  begun  to  perish,  and  were  not  only  use- 
 less, but  an  iiicnmbrance.  But  while  "  the  outward  man  de- 
 cayed, the  inward  man  was  renewed  day  by  day."  This  is  in 
 a  degree  true  of  his  mental  faculties,  as  well  as  of  his  religious 
 progress.  The  coruscations  of  his  intellect  delighted  and  aston- 
 ished his  visiters.  Among  these  was  the  Secretary  of  the  Amer- 
 ican Education  Society,  who,  asking  Dr.  Payson  for  a  message 
 which  he  might  carry  from  him  to  beneficiaries,  received  the 
 following  impromptu  :  — 
 
 "  What  if  God  should  place  in  your  hand  a  diamond,  and 
 tell  you  to  inscribe  on  it  a  seritence  which  should  be  read  at  the 
 last  day,  and  shown  there  as  an  index  of  your  own  thoughts 
 and  feelings?  What  care,  what  caution  would  you  exercise  in 
 the  selection  !  Now,  this  is  what  God  has  done.  He  has  plac- 
 ed before  you  immortal  minds,  more  imperishable  than  the  dia- 
 mond, on  which  you  are  about  to  inscribe,  every  day  and  every 
 hour,  by  your  instructions,  by  your  spirit,  or  by  your  example, 
 something  which  will  remain,  and  be  exhibited  for,  or  against 
 you,  at  the  judgment  day." 
 
 We  shall  close  our  extracts,  and  this  chapter,  with  two  short 
 letters  to  his  mother,  the  last  he  ever  wrote  :  — 
 
EDWARD    P  A  YSON. 
 
 393 
 
 "  Feb.  1,  1827. 
 
 "  My  deak  mother  : — I  have  just  received  your  letter ;  and 
 though  I  am  obhged  to  write  with  my  left  hand,  and  that  is 
 numb,  1  must  try  to  scratch  a  few  lines  in  reply.  I  am  no  bet- 
 ter ;  am  tolerably  contented  and  happy,  but  have  not  much  sen- 
 sible consolation.  We  have  increasing  evidence  that  L.  is 
 become  pious;  but  E.  who  seemed  to  be  in  a  promising  way, 
 has  lost  his  impressions.  You  have  probably  heard,  that  Mr.  R. 
 has  hopes  that  H.  is  converted.  We  have  about  a  dozen  hope- 
 ful converts,  and  appearances  are  encouraging.  I  have  much 
 to  be  thankful  for.  Wife,  children  and  people,  all  try  to  minis- 
 ter to  my  comfort.  I  rejoice  to  hear  that  your  mind  is  in  so 
 desirable  a  frame,  though  I  expected  no  less.  God  has  not  led 
 you  so  far  to  forsake  you  at  last.  Should  you  be  taken  away 
 before  me,  I  shall  feel  as  Elisha  did  when  he  lost  Elijah  ;  for  I 
 doubt  not  your  prayers  have  been  of  great  service  to  me.  I  re- 
 ceived a  letter  from  G.  lately,  inviting  me  to  come  and  spend 
 part  of  the  winter  at  New  York.  I  thank  him,  but  I  cannot 
 come.  Home  is  the  only  place  for  a  cripple,  who  can  neither 
 dress  nor  undress  himself;  besides,  I  can  he  of  some  service  to 
 my  people,  while  here.  I  have  many  things  to  say  ;  but  writ- 
 ing is  so  wearisome  and  painful,  that  I  can  add  nothing  more. 
 Assure  G.  and  E.  of  my  warmest  love,  and  believe  me 
 
 "  Your  affectionate  son." 
 
 "  Feb.  20. 
 
 "My  dear  mother: — I  wrote  the  enclosed  letter  three  weeks 
 since,  and  sent  it  Avith  the  money  by  a  man,  who  said  he  was 
 going  to  New  York ;  but  after  I  hoped  it  had  arrived  there,  it 
 came  back  to  me  again.  I  have  just  received  your  last  letter, 
 and  what  shall  I  say  in  reply  ?  If  my  hand  would  permit,  I 
 could  say  much  ;  if  my  health  would  allow  of  it,  I  would  come 
 and  see  you.  As  it  is,  I  can  only  say,  God  be  with  you,  my 
 dear  mother,  and  bless  you,  as  he  has  made  you  a  blessing  to 
 me.  If  it  be  his  will  that  we  should  not  meet  again  in  this  world, 
 I  must  say — Farewell,  for  a  short  time  ;  for  short,  I  trust,  will 
 be  the  time  before  we  meet  again.  Farewell,  then,  my  dear, 
 dear  mother!  for  a  short  time,  farewell  !" 
 
 It  proved  to  be  the  last  farewell.    His  mother,  a  few  days 
 afterwards,  was  called  to  her  eternal  home. 
 VOL.  I.  50 
 
CHAPTER  XX. 
 
 His  last  labors  —  His  spiritual  joys,  heavenly  counsels,  and  brightening  intel- 
 lect, diuing  the  progress  of  liis  disease  —  His  aiumphant  exit —  Conclusion. 
 
 Dr.  Payson  Avas  at  length  compelled  to  yield  to  the  irresisti- 
 ble power  of  disease.  Parts  of  his  body,  including  his  right 
 arm  and  left  side,  were  very  singularly  aflected.  They  were 
 incapable  of  motion,  and  lost  all  sense  of  feeling  externally ; 
 while,  in  the  interior  parts  of  the  limbs  thus  affected,  he  expe- 
 rienced, at  intervals,  a  most  intense  burning  sensation,  which  he 
 compared  to  a  stream  of  fused  metal,  or  liquid  fire,  coursing 
 through  his  bones.  No  external  applications  were  of  the  least 
 service  ;  and  in  addition  to  his  acute  sufferings  from  this  source, 
 he  was  frequently  subject  to  the  most  violent  attacks  of  nervous 
 head-ache. 
 
 It  was  with  great  reluctance  that  he  relinquished  preaching. 
 "  The  spirit  continued  willing,"  long  after  the  "  flesh  failed." 
 But  who  can  resist  the  appointment  of  Heaven  !  The  decree 
 had  gone  forth,  that  he  must  die  ;  and  the  progress  of  his  com- 
 plicated maladies  declared  but  too  unequivocally  that  the  de- 
 cree must  soon  be  executed.  He  did  not,  however,  cease 
 preaching  at  once,  but,  at  first,  secured  assistance  for  half  the 
 day  only.  An  arrangement  to  this  effect,  which  was  expected 
 to  continue  several  weeks,  commenced  on  the  second  Sabbath 
 of  March.  He  occupied  the  pulpit  in  the  morning.  His  text 
 was,  'The  word  of  the  Lord  is  tried.'  The  sermon  was  not 
 written,  of  course  ;  but  no  one,  that  he  ever  wrote,  not  even  his 
 celebrated  discourse  on  the  Bible  was  more  instructive  and 
 
MEMOIR    OF    EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 395 
 
 eloquent  than  this — particularly  tliose  parts  in  which  he  de- 
 scribed the  trials  to  which  the  word  of  the  Lord  had  been  sub- 
 jected by  its  enemies,  and  the  tests  of  a  different  character 
 which  it  had  sustained  from  its  friends.  Never,  scarcely,  were 
 the  mightiest  infidels  made  to  appear  so  puny,  insignificant,  and 
 foolish.  "  He  who  sitteth  in  the  heavens  "  could  almost  be 
 seen  "  deriding  them."  When  describing  the  manner  in  which 
 Christians  had  tried  it,  he  "  spoke  out  of  the  abundance  of  his 
 heart."  Experience  aided  his  eloquence,  and  added  strength  to 
 the  conviction  which  it  wrought.  And  it  would  have  been 
 listened  to  with  a  still  greater  intenseness  of  interest,  had  his 
 own  trials,  mentioned  in  the  preceding  chapter,  been  known. 
 The  application  of  the  subject  to  his  auditory  must  be  left 
 for  imagination  to  supply  ;  for  it  cannot  be  conveyed  on 
 paper. 
 
 On  pronouncing  the  blessing,  he  requested  the  congregation 
 to  resume  their  seats.  He  descended  from  the  pulpit,  and  took 
 his  station  m  front  of  it,  and  commenced  a  most  solemn  appeal 
 to  the  assembly.  He  began  with  a  recognition  of  that  feeling 
 in  an  auditory,  which  leads  them  to  treat,  a  minister's  exhorta- 
 tions as  if  they  were  merely  a  discharge  of  professional  duty, 
 by  one  placed  above  them,  and  having  little  sympathy  with 
 them.  "  I  now  put  aside  the  minister,"  said  he  ;  "I  come  down 
 among  you  ;  place  myself  on  a  visible  equality  ;  I  address  you 
 as  a  fellow-man,  a  friend,  a  brother,  and  fellow-traveller  to  the 
 bar  of  God;  as  one  equally  interested  with  yourselves  in  the 
 truths  which  I  have. been  declaring."  He  then  gave  vent  to 
 the  struggling  emotions  of  his  heart,  in  a  strain  of  affectionate 
 entreaty,  expressing  the  most  anxious  desires  for  their  salvation. 
 In  conclusion,  he  referred  them  to  the  common  practice,  when 
 men  have  any  great  object  to  accomplish,  of  assembling  togeth- 
 er, and  adopting  resolutions  expressive  of  their  convictions  and 
 purposes  ;  and  he  wished  his  hearers  to  follow  him  in  a  series 
 which  he  was  about  to  propose,  and  to  adopt  them,  not  by  any 
 visible  act  or  expression,  but  mentally,  if  they  thought  them  of 
 sufficient  importance,  and  could  do  it  sincerely.  One  resolution 
 expressed  a  conviction  of  the  truth  of  the  Bible ;  another,  of 
 criminal  indifference  to  its  momentous  disclosures;  another,  ac- 
 knowledged the  claims  of  Jehovah ;  another,  the  paramount 
 importance  of  attention  to  the  concerns  of  the  soulj  and 
 
396 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 another,  the  purpose  to  seek  its  salvation  without  delay. 
 Though  his  withered  right  arm  hung  helpless  by  his  side,  yet  he 
 seemed  "  instinct  with  life ;"  and  every  successive  resolution 
 was  rendered  emphatic  by  a  gesture  of  the  left. 
 
 In  all  his  public  ministrations,  during  this  period,  when  his 
 body  was  sinking  towards  the  grave,  there  was  a  singular 
 adaptedness  of  truth  to  existing  circumstances.  The  subjects 
 upon  which  he  expatiated  were  in  unison  with  his  condition,  as 
 a  servant  of  God  ripening  fast  for  heaven.  There  was  much 
 of  the  nature  of  testimony  for  God.  He  omitted  no  opportuni- 
 ty, public  or  private,  to  maintain  the  honor  and  perfections  of 
 Him,  whose  ambassador  he  was.  He  could  scarcely  utter  a 
 word,  without  rendering  it  obvious  to  all  who  heard  him,  that 
 God  was  higher  in  his  esteem  than  any,  than  all  created  be- 
 ings. One  illustration  of  this  statement  was  afforded  by  a  ser- 
 mon which  he  preached  as  late  as  the  last  Sabbath  in  April, 
 from  2  Samuel  xviii.  3 — 'Thou  art  worth  ten  thousand  of  us.' 
 Parts  of  this  sermon  are  reported  from  recollection,  by  his  eldest 
 daughter,  who  has  been  the  most  successful  —  where  all  fail, 
 in  retaining  his  characteristic  expressions. 
 
 The  text,  which  was  addressed  to  David  by  his  subjects.  Dr. 
 Payson  applied  to  Jehovah,  and  illustrated  its  truth  in  this  ap- 
 plication by  a  variety  of  methods,  showing  that  God  is  worth 
 ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  of  human  beings;  yea,  worth 
 more  than  all  the  creatures  that  ever  have  been,  and  all  that 
 ever  will  be  created  :  — 
 
 '•'Suppose  you  take  the  capacity  for  happiness,  which  has 
 been  said  by  philosophers  to  be  the  only  true  standard  of  perfec- 
 tion :  — if  the  happiness  which  God  enjoys  were  divided  into 
 portions,  each  of  which  would  be  sufficient  to  fill  an  archangel 
 to  overflowing,  there  would  be  an  infinite  number  of  those  por- 
 tions. God's  happiness  is  not  merely  a  fountain,  but  an  ocean 
 without  bottom  or  shore.  And  this  should  be  a  never-failing 
 source  of  consolation  to  the  Christian,  when  he  reflects  on  all 
 the  misery  in  the  world,  that  still  happiness  predominates ;  for 
 God  is  infinitely — infinitely  happy. 
 
 '  "  The  man  who  should  go  round  the  universe  —  suppose,  if 
 you  will,  that  each  of  the  numerous  millions  of  stars  known  to 
 astronomers,  is  the  centre  of  a  system,  and  that  each  of  these 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 397 
 
 innumerable  worlds  is  as  populous  as  our  own  ;  —  yet  the  man 
 who  should,  at  one  fell  stroke,  fill  all  these  countless  myriads  of 
 beings  to  the  very  brim  of  wretchedness,  Avould  do  infinitely 
 less  mischief,  than  he  who  should,  if  that  were  possible,  destroy 
 the  happiness  of  Jehovah.  In  the  first  instance,  it  would  be 
 but  poisoning  the  streams  ;  in  the  latter,  the  fountain  itself  would 
 be  tumed  into  bitterness.  *  * 
 
 "  Thus  we  have  proved  that  God  is  worth  infinitely  more 
 than  all  his  creatures.  But,  instead  of  acknowledging  and  feel- 
 ing this,  men  practically  exalt  themselves  ten  thousand  times 
 above  God.  They  think  ten  thousand  times  as  much  of  them- 
 selves as  of  God  :  an  injury  done  to  themselves  affects  them  ten 
 thousand  times  as  much  as  one  done  to  God  ;  and  Jehovah  sees 
 himself  cast  down — down — down  from  his  throne,  to  make 
 room  for  little  insignificant  worms  of  the  dust.  And  what  can 
 be  worse  than  this  !  Men  talk  about  degrees  of  wickedness^ 
 because  some  have  broken  the  laws  of  their  country,  and  other.s 
 have  not;  but  this  undervaluing  and  degrading  their  Maker  is 
 what  all  have  done  ;  and  it  is  not  possible  to  go  farther  in  Avick- 
 edness.  Yes  ;  this  is  what  I  have  done, — and  I  desire  to  make 
 the  confession  with  shame.  I  have  done  this ;  and  you  have 
 done  this,  my  hearers.  In  the  presence  of  this  much  insulted 
 God,  I  must  charge  it  upon  you.  And  I  tell  you,  my  hearers, 
 if  you  do  not  repent  of  this  conduct,  God  will  be  obliged  to  put 
 you  down — down — down,  as  low  as  you  have  degraded  him. 
 If  he  should  not  do  this,  if,  out  of  false  pity  to  one  individual, 
 he  should  pardon  you  without  repentance  ;  that  instant,  all  the 
 songs  of  heaven  would  stop,  and  all  the  happiness  of  the  uni- 
 verse would  be  dried  np.  Heaven,  the  habitation  of  God's 
 glory,  where  myriads  of  celestial  hitelligences  are  contemplating 
 his  infinite  perfections,  would  become,  from  a  place  of  perfect 
 and  unmingled  happiness,  a  scene  of  unutterable,  inconceivable 
 misery.  '  Jehovah  is  no  longer  worthy  to  be  trusted  !  Jehovah  is 
 no  longer  worthy  to  be  trusted  !'  would  be  the  universal  and  pa- 
 thetic exclamation.  '  We  thought  there  was  one  Being,  and  only 
 one,  on  whom  we  might  depend;  but  even  he  has  failed;  and  where 
 now  shall  we  look  for  perfection  !'  But,  blessed  be  God,  these 
 dreadful  imaginings  can  never  be  realized,  for  Jehovah  will 
 never  change." 
 
398 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 In  this  connexion,  we  shall  introduce  a  paragraph,  commu- 
 nicated by  a  ministering  brother,  who  occupied  his  pulpit  on  the 
 day  in  which  the  interview  mentioned  took  place  : — 
 
 "  As  an  instance  of  his  strong  fancy,  and  of  the  uses  to  which 
 he  applied  it,  I  will  mention,  that,  on  the  last  Sabbath  in  Avhich, 
 with  great  difficulty,  he  entered  the  house  of  God  he  said  tome, 
 'I  find  in  my  illness,  that  the  power  of  imagination  is  unweak- 
 ened,  and  that  it  is  very  easy  for  me  to  wander  into  the  regions 
 of  fancy.  On  the  subject  of  the  wisdom  of  God  in  the  direction 
 of  mysterious  events,  and  our  duty  of  submission  and  faith,  it 
 has  occurred  to  me  recently,  that  our  conceptions  might  be 
 assisted  by  imagining  God  to  take  a  human  form,  answering — 
 if  it  were  possible  —  to  his  infinite  nature.  What  would  be  its 
 dimensions  1  The  angel,  in  the  book  of  Revelation,  is  repre- 
 sented as  standing  with  one  fool  on  the  sea,  and  the  other  on 
 the  land,  and  lifting  up  his  hand  to  heaven.  But,  were  God  in 
 a  form  such  as  I  have  supposed,  one  foot  would  be  on  the 
 remotest  star  in  one  direction  of  infinite  space,  and  the  other 
 foot  on  the  remotest  star  in  the  opposite  direction  of  the  unbound- 
 ed expanse ;  and  should  we  propose  to  climb  from  his  feet  to  the 
 glories  of  his  face, — if  we  had  the  speed  of  light,  and  had  been 
 travelling  from  the  creation  of  the  world,  we  should  have  made 
 little  progress  in  our  journey.  And  shall  we,  then,  presumptu- 
 ously judge  of  the  ways  of  this  God,  and  imagine  that  we  could 
 manage  earthly  things  more  wisely  than  he?  Shall  we  have 
 any  doubts  as  to  his  unfailing  wisdom,  and  perfect  rectitude, 
 and  infinite  goodness  V  I  have  not  been  able  to  give  you  his 
 words,  hut  I  have  given  you  his  thoughts." 
 
 Of  the  penetrating  and  all-absorbing  effect  of  his  last  public 
 ministrations,  particularly  at  the  communion  table,  some  feeble 
 conception  may  be  formed  from  an  extract  furnished  by  a  gen- 
 tleman, who,  for  twelve  years,  had  been  only  an  occasional 
 attendant  on  his  ministry.  The  first  paragraph  has  no  special 
 reference  to  this  period,  but  may  properly  be  retained  for  the 
 value  of  its  testimony  : — 
 
 "  At  the  sacramental  table,  especially,  did  his  mind  appear  to 
 be  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  oi'  tilings  unseen  and  eternal. 
 
EDWARU    PAY  SON. 
 
 399 
 
 To  a  candid  observer  it  was  manifest,  at  such  seasons,  that  his 
 '  fellowship  was  with  the  Father,  and  with  his  Son,  Jesus 
 Christ.'  I  doubt  not  that  I  express  the  feelings  of  each  member 
 of  his  church,  Avhen  I  say.  that  often,  on  these  occasions,  he 
 seemed  to  soar  to  the  thi^d  heaven ;  and  by  those  fervent  and 
 elevated  effusions  of  thought,  with  which  he  always  accompa- 
 nied his  administration  of  the  ordinance,  he  literally  carried  the 
 minds,  if  not  the  hearts,  of  his  hearers  with  him.  His  influ- 
 ence, in  this  respect,  is  associated  with  my  earliest  recollections 
 of  Dr.  Payson.  In  one  particular  instance,  which  occurred 
 during  my  boyhood,  such  was  the  absorbing  influence  of  his 
 eloquence  on  my  own  mind  ;  arising,  doubtless,  more  from  the 
 attraction  of  his  fervent  zeal,  and  that  creative  fancy  for  which 
 he  was  so  remarkably  distinguished,  than  from  any  special 
 regard,  on  my  own  part,  to  the  truths  he  uttered ;  that,  from 
 the  commencement  of  the  public  services  of  the  afternoon,  to  the 
 close  of  the  sacramental  season  which  succeeded  them,  it  seem- 
 ed like  a  pleasing  reverie ;  and  had  all  the  eflect  of  an  ocular 
 survey  of  every  scene  connected  with  the  humiliation  and  exal- 
 tation of  the  Saviour.  So  strong  was  the  mental  impression 
 received,  that  I  can  distinctly  recollect,  not  only  his  text  on  that 
 occasion,  —  Rev.  iv.  3,  latter  clause, — but  also  the  hynm  with 
 which  the  public  services  Avere  introduced,  —  H.  25,  B.  1,  Watts. 
 He  seemed  to  have  taken  his  flight  from  one  of  the  most  eleva- 
 ted heights  of  meditation,  and  to  soar  in  a  climax  of  devotion, 
 and  sublimity  of  thought,  until  faith  changed  the  heavenly 
 vision  into  a  reality,  and  spread  all  the  glories  of  redemption 
 around  the  consecrated  symbols  of  Christ's  death. 
 
 "  I  had  the  solemn  pleasure,  too,  of  being  present  at  one  of 
 his  last  communion  seasons  with  the  church  on  earth.  It  was 
 an  affecting,  a  soul-cheering  scene.  Its  interest  was  greatly 
 enhanced  by  the  nearness  in  which  he  seemed  to  stand  to  the 
 communion  of  the  church  triumphant.  His  body  was  so  emaci- 
 ated with  long  and  acute  suffering,  that  it  Avas  scarcely  able  to 
 sustain  the  effort  once  more  imposed  upon  it ;  but  his  soul, 
 raised  above  its  perishing  influence,  and  filled  Avith  a  joyful 
 tranquility,  seemed  entirely  regardless  of  the  Aveakness  of  its 
 mortal  tenement.  His  right  hand  and  arm  were  so  palsied  by 
 disease,  as  to  be  quite  useless;  except  that,  in  the  act  of  break- 
 ing the  bread,  when  he  could  not  Avell  dispense  Avith  it,  he  placed 
 
400 
 
 BI  E  M  0  I  R  OF 
 
 it  on  the  table  with  the  other  hand,  just  as  you  raise  any  hfeless 
 weight,  until  it  had  performed  the  service  required  of  it.  It 
 seemed  as  if  he  was  unwiUing,  that  even  the  withered  hand 
 should  be  found  unemployed  in  the  ho^^  work.  Truly,  thought 
 I,  there  must  be  a  blessed  ideality  in  that  loligion,  which  can  thus 
 make  the  soul  tranquil  and  happy,  in  the  constant  and  rapid 
 advances  of  decay  and  death  ! 
 
 "  I  have  never  known  Dr.  Payson  when  he  seemed  more 
 abstracted  from  earth  than  on  this  occasion.  It  was,  as  he  sup- 
 posed, and  as  his  church  feared,  their  final  interview  at  that 
 table.  In  all  the  glowmg  fervor  of  devotion,  assisted  by  his 
 ever  fertile  imagination,  he  contemplated  the  Saviour  as  visibly 
 present  in  the  ftiidst  of  them ;  and,  with  his  usual  eloquence 
 and  closeness  of  appeal,  he  seemed  to  make  each  communicant 
 feel,  that  what  he  imagined  was  a  reality.  There  was  a  breath- 
 less silence ;  and  the  solemnity  of  the  scene  could  hardly  have 
 been  surpassed,  if,  as  he  expressed  it,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
 were  sitting  before  them ;  or  addressing  to  each  individual 
 member  the  momentous  inquiry,  '  Lovest  thou  me  7'  I  can  say, 
 for  one,  that  the  terrors  of  hypocrisy  never  swelled  so  fearful, 
 and  the  realities  of  the  judgment-seat  never  seemed  nearer, 
 than  at  that  solemn  hour.  And  I  trust  I  and  many  others  were 
 then  enabled  from  the  heart  to  pray,  with  the  Psalmist,  Search 
 me,  O  God,  &c. 
 
 "  From  the  occasional  opportunities  I  have  enjoyed  of  attend- 
 ing on  Dr.  Payson's  administration  of  that  ordinance,  I  can 
 have  no  doubt  that  they  were  to  him  foretastes  of  that  supper 
 of  the  Lamb,  on  whose  more  blessed  celebration  he  so  truim- 
 phantly  entered.  And  it  is  an  interesting,  a  momentous  ques- 
 tion : — 
 
 "  Shall  we,  who  sat  with  him  below, 
 Commune  with  him  above  ?" 
 
 On  the  first  of  July,  he  attended  public  worship,  and,  after  a 
 sermon  from  his  assistant,  he  rose  and  addressed  his  people 
 thus  : — 
 
 "  Ever  since  I  became  a  minister,  it  has  been  my  earnest  wish 
 that  I  might  die  of  some  disease,  which  would  allow  me  to 
 preach  a  farewell  sermon  to  my  people ;  but  as  it  is  not  proba- 
 
EDWARD    PAYS  ON- 
 
 401 
 
 ble  that  I  shall  ever  be  able  to  do  this,  I  will  attempt  to  say  a 
 few  words  now  : — it  may  be  the  last  time  that  I  shall  ever  ad- 
 dress you.  This  is  not  merely  a  presentiment.  It  is  an  opinion 
 founded  on  facts,  and  maintained  by  physicians  acquainted  with 
 my  case,  that  I  shall  never  behold  another  spring. 
 
 "  And  now,  standing  on  the  borders  of  the  eternal  world,  I 
 look  back  on  my  past  ministry,  and  on  the  manner  in  which  J 
 have  performed  its  duties;  and,  O  my  hearers,  if  you  have  not 
 performed  your  duties  better  than  I  have  mine,  wo  !  wo  !  be  to 
 you,  unless  you  have  an  Advocate  and  Intercessor  in  heaven. 
 We  have  lived  together  twenty  years,  and  have  spent  more 
 than  a  thousand  Sabbaths  together,  and  I  have  given  you  at 
 least  two  thousand  warnings.  I  am  now  going  to  render  an 
 account  how  they  were  given,  and  you,  my  hearers,  will  soon 
 have  to  render  an  account  how  they  were  received.  One 
 more  warning  I  will  give  you.  Once  more,  your  shepherd,  who 
 will  be  yours  no  longer,  entreats  you  to  flee  from  the  wrath 
 to  come.  Oh,  let  me  have  the  happiness  of  seeing  my  dear 
 people  attending  to  their  eternal  interests,  that  I  may  not  have 
 reason  to  say,  I  have  labored  in  vain,  I  have  spent  my  strength 
 for  nought." 
 
 At  the  communion  table,  the  same  day,  he  said, — 
 "  Christians  seem  to  expect  that  their  views  of  Christ,  and 
 love  to  him,  will  increase  without  their  using  the  proper  means. 
 They  should  select  some  scene  in  his  life,  and  meditate  long 
 upon  it,  and  strive  to  bring  the  circumstances  before  their 
 minds,  and  imagine  how  he  thought  and  felt  at  the  time.  At 
 first,  all  will  appear  confused  and  indistinct;  but  let  them 
 continue  to  look  steadily,  and  the  mists  will  disappear,  and 
 their  hearts  will  begin  to  bum  with  love  to  their  Saviour.  At 
 least  one  scene  in  Christ's  life  should  be  thus  reviewed  every 
 day,  if  the  Christian  hopes  to  find  his  love  to  his  Redeemer 
 increase." 
 
 His  public  labors  were  now  nearly  over ;  but  he  was  daily 
 and  hourly  uttering  something  to  rouse  the  careless,  or  for  the 
 instruction,  edification,  and  comfort  of  God's  children. 
 
 To  his  daughter,  who  expressed  a  wish  that  labor  as  certainly- 
 ensured  success  in  spiritual  as  in  temporal  affairs,  he  said  —  '-It 
 does ;  it  is  just  as  certain  that  prayers  for  spiritual  blessings 
 VOL.  I.  61 
 
402 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 will  be  answered,  whenever  God  sees  best,  as  that  the  hus- 
 bandman, who  sows  his  seed  with  proper  precaution,  will  reap. 
 The  only  reason  that  our  endeavors  to  obtain  spiritual  bles- 
 sings are  not  oftener  attended  with  success,  is,  they  are  not 
 made  in  earnest.  Never  omit  prayer,  or  any  devotional  exercise, 
 when  the  stated  season  for  it  arrives,  because  you  feel  indispo- 
 sed to  the  duty." 
 
 July  12,  13.  On  both  these  days,  Dr.  Pay  son  seemed  a  little 
 revived.  He  had  tried  sailing  around  the  harbor,  and  found  it 
 beneficial.  On  repeating  the  experiment,  however,  he  discovered 
 that,  though  these  water  excursions  were  of  service  to  his  lungs, 
 they  increased  the  paralytic  affection  —  if  such  it  was— in  his 
 arm,  and  they  were  relinquished. 
 
 July  22.  Sabbath.  To  his  daughter  he  said,  "  There  is  noth- 
 ing in  which  young  converts  are  more  prone  to  err,  than  in  lay- 
 ing too  much  stress  upon  their  feelings.  If  they  have  a  com- 
 fortable half  hour  in  the  morning,  it  atones  for  a  multitude  of 
 sins  in  the  course  of  the  day.  Christ  says,  'if  ye  love  me,  keep 
 my  commandments. '  It  would  be  well  for  us  to  pay  more  at- 
 tention to  our  conduct,  and  prove  the  depth  of  our  feeling  by  our 
 obedience."  He  also  advised  her  to  observe  some  plan  with 
 regard  to  reading  on  the  Sabbath.  In  the  morning  he  recom- 
 mended reading  the  Scriptures  exclusively,  and  afterwards  works 
 intended  to  convey  information  respecting  religious  subjects. 
 
 July  29.  He  remarked  to  some  new  converts  who  called, 
 that  the  most  important  direction  he  could  give  them  was,  to 
 spend  much  time  in  retired  converse  with  the  Scriptures,  and 
 with  God.  "If  you  wished  to  cherish  the  remembrance  of  an 
 absent  friend,  you  would  read  over  his  letters  daily,  meditate  on 
 his  acts  of  kindness  to  you,  and  look  at  any  tokens  of  affection 
 which  he  might  have  left  you. " 
 
 "We  are  accustomed  to  suppose  that  God's  feelings  towards 
 us  vary  according  to  our  own;  that  when  we  are  in  a  lively 
 spiritual  frame  of  mind,  he  regards  us  with  more  complacency 
 than  at  other  times.  This  is  not  the  case.  The  feelings  with 
 which  God  regards  us  do  not  fluctuate  like  ours. " 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 403 
 
 Aug.  5.  Sabbath.  This  day,  he  entered  the  meeting-house 
 f'<r  the  last  time;  and  this  month  completes  twenty  years,  since 
 he  entered  it,  the  first  time  as  a  preacher — then  a  trembling 
 youth,  now  the  spiritual  father  of  many  hundreds;  then  just 
 girded  for  the  warfare,  now  the  veteran,  who  had  "  fought  the 
 good  fight,  "  and  was  just  going  to  resign  his  commission,  and 
 receive  a  crown  of  unfading  glory.  He  made  a  great  effort  to 
 go  out,  as  there  were  twenty-one  persons  to  be  admitted  to  the 
 church.  He  was  supported  into  the  house  by  his  senior  deacons; 
 and,  although  he  merely  read  the  covenant,  and  remained  dur- 
 ing the  administration  of  the  sacrament,  he  was  exceedingly 
 overcome.  Most  of  the  persons  present  were  much  afiected, 
 and,  after  the  services,  many  crowded  around  him,  to  take  his 
 hand  for  the  last  time. 
 
 Aug.  8.  He  had  a  violent  nervous  head-ache;  and  was  much 
 interrupted  in  speaking  by  a  difficulty  of  breathing;  but  said,  in, 
 a  cheerful  voice,  to  some  of  his  church  who  were  in,  "I  want 
 you  always  to  believe  that  God  is  faithful.  However  dark  and 
 mysterious  any  of  his.dispensations  may  appear,  still  confide  in 
 him.  He  can  make  you  happy  when  every  thing  else  is  taken 
 from  you.  "  He  baptized  several  children  at  his  own  house,  but 
 the  exertion  was  too  much  for  him. 
 
 Aug.  13.  He  received  from  a  society  of  young  men  in  his 
 parish,  who  were  associated  for  religious  improvement,  a  letter, 
 in  which  they  generously  offered  to  give  his  son  a  liberal  edu- 
 cation.   The  following  is  his  answer :  — 
 
 "to  the  society  for  religious  improvement. 
 
 "Beloved  brethren:  —  No  act  of  kindness  which  it  was  in 
 the  power  of  man  to  show,  could  have  been  more  soothing  to 
 my  anxieties  as  a  dying  parent,  or  more  grateful  to  a  dying 
 minister,  than  your  imexpected  and  most  generous  offer  to  fur- 
 nish the  means  of  a  liberal  education  to  my  oldest  son. 
 
 "Most  fervently  do  I  thank  you  for  making  this  offer,  and  the 
 Author  of  all  good  for  inducing  you  to  do  it.  To  see  him  thus 
 already  beginning  to  take  care  of  a  family,  which  I  must  soon 
 leave,  is  a  great  encouragement  to  my  faith,  that  he  will  contin- 
 ue to  take  care  of  them  after  I  am  gone. 
 
404 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "  If  it  is  any  satisfaction  to  you  to  know  that  you  have  assist- 
 ed to  smooth  your  pastor's  dying  pillow,  and  shed  light  on  his 
 last  hours,  you  may  feel  that  satisfaction  in  a  very  high  degree. 
 With  most  earnest  prayers  that  God  would  reward  you  abuiKi- 
 antly  for  this  kind  oifer,  I  have  concluded  to  accept  it,  provKl<  d 
 that  my  son,  when  he  shall  have  attained  the  age  of  sixteen, 
 shall  be  found  to  possess  such  a  character  as  will  justify  a  lioj_.e 
 that  he  will  make  a  good  use  of  the  advantages  with  which  you 
 generously  furnish  him.    And  now,  brethren,  farewell. " 
 
 During  this  month,  his  "wreck  of  being"  was  further  shat- 
 tered by  a  spasmodic  cough,  which  at  times  threatened  absolute 
 strangulation. 
 
 Sept.  4.  He  said  to  his  wife  and  daughter  —  I  do  not  think 
 you  are  sufficiently  thankful  for  my  consolations,  or  realize  how 
 wonderful  it  is  that  I  am  thus  supported  Owing  to  my  natural 
 activity,  and  unwillingness  to  be  dependent  on  others  for  the 
 supply  of  my  wants,  these  trials  are  exactly  those  which  are 
 most  calculated  to  make  me  miserable.  But  God  can  sweeten 
 the  bitterest  cup." 
 
 He  afterwards  said  with  emotions  which  would  hardly  allow 
 him  to  speak,  — "  Oh,  my  daughter,  how  you  will  regret,  when 
 you  come  to  see  how  good  God  is,  that  you  did  not  serve  him 
 better.    Oh!  he  is  so  good,  so  good." 
 
 Sept.  9.  During  the  preceding  week,  he  had  rode  out  several 
 times,  being  carried  down  stairs,  and  lifted  into  the  chaise.  For 
 a  few  days  he  thought  himself  better;  but  these  favorable  ap- 
 pearances were  of  short  duration.  He  remarked,  that  sometimes, 
 in  order  to  try  his  people's  faith,  God  gives  them  a  prospect 
 that  an  affliction  is  about  to  be  removed,  and  then  permits  it  to 
 return  again.  He  compared  his  present  case  to  that  of  a  man, 
 who,  after  having  been  a  long  time  confined  in  prison,  finds  his 
 door  open  one  morning ;  but,  on  attempting  to  leave  it,  the  door 
 is  suddenly  closed  with  such  violence,  as  to  throw  him  prostrate 
 on  the  floor. 
 
 He  was  asked,  on  this  day,  by  some  of  his  friends,  if  he  could 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 405 
 
 see  any  particular  reason  for  this  dispensation.  "  No, "  replied 
 he;  "but  I  am  as  well  satisfied  as  if  I  could  see  ten  thousand. 
 God's  will  is  the  very  perfection  of  all  reason. " 
 
 In  answer  to  the  question,  by  a  lady  from  B.,  Are  you  better 
 than  you  were?  he  replied,  "Not  in  body,  but  in  mind.  If  my 
 happiness  continues  to  increase,  I  cannot  support  it  much  longer." 
 On  being  asked.  Are  your  views  of  heaven  clearer  and  brighter 
 than  ever  before?  he  said,  —  "Why,  for  a  few  moments,  I  may 
 have  had  as  bright;  but  formerly  my  joys  were  tumultuous,  now 
 all  is  calm  and  peaceful."  He  was  asked,  "In  your  anticipa- 
 tions of  heaven,  do  you  think  of  meeting  departed  friends?" 
 After  a  moment's  reflection,  he  said,  with  a  most  expressive 
 countenance,  "If  I  meet  Christ,  'tis  no  matter  whether  I  see 
 others  or  not — though  I  shall  want  some  to  help  me  praise  him." 
 He  doubtless  had  an  opinion  on  this  subject ;  but  he  remembered 
 Christ's  answer  to  the  question,  "Are  there  few  that  be  saved?" 
 
 "God  deals  strangely  with  his  creatures,  to  promote  their  hap- 
 piness. Who  would  have  thought  that  I  must  be  reduced  to 
 this  state,  helpless  and  crippled,  to  experience  the  highest  en- 
 joyment! " 
 
 "  You  ought  to  feel  happy,  all  ought  to  feel  happy,  who  come 
 here,  for  they  are  within  a  few  steps  of  heaven."  During  the 
 course  of  this  conversation,  he  repeated  this  verse,  "Thy  sun 
 shall  no  more  go  down,  neither  shall  thy  moon  withdraw  itself; 
 for  the  Lord  shall  be  thine  everlasting  light,  and  the  days  of  thy 
 mourning  shall  be  ended."  Turning  to  a  young  lady  present, 
 he  said,  "  Do  you  not  think  this  is  worth  traivelling  over  many 
 high  hills  and  difficult  places  to  obtain?"  "Give  my  love  to 
 my  friends  in  Boston ;  tell  them  all  I  ever  said  in  praise  of  God 
 or  religion  falls  infinitely  below  the  truth.  " 
 
 "  Dr.  Clarke,  in  his  travels,  speaking  of  the  companies  that 
 were  travelling  from  the  East  to  Jerusalem,  represents  the  pro- 
 cession as  being  very  long;  and,  after  climbing  over  the  extend- 
 ed and  heavy  ranges  of  hills  that  bounded  the  way,  some  of  the 
 foremost  at  length  reached  the  top  of  the  last  hill,  and,  stretch- 
 ing up  their  hands  in  gestures  of  joy,  cried  out,  "  The  Holy  City ! 
 
406 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 the  Holy  City!  " — and  fell  down  and  worshipped;  while  those 
 who  were  behind  pressed  forward  to  see.  So  the  dying  Chris- 
 tian, Avhen  he  gets  on  the  last  summit  of  life,  and  stretches  his 
 vision  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  heavenly  city,  may  cry  out  of 
 its  glories,  and  incite  those  who  are  behind  to  press  forward  to 
 the  sight." 
 
 To  a  clergyman  —  "Oh,  if  ministers  only  saw  the  inconceiv- 
 able glory  that  is  before  them,  and  the  preciousness  of  Christ, 
 they  would  not  be  able  to  refrain  from  going  about,  leaping  and 
 clapping  their  hands  for  joy,  and  exclaiming,  I'm  a  minister  of 
 Christ !  I'm  a  minister  of  Christ!" 
 
 "  When  I  read  Bunyan's  description  of  the  land  of  Beulah, 
 where  the  sun  shines  and  the  birds  sing  day  and  night,  I  used 
 to  doubt  whether  there  was  such  a  place ;  but  now  my  own 
 experience  has  convinced  me  of  it,  and  it  infinitely  transcends 
 all  my  previous  conceptions." 
 
 "I  think  the  happiness  I  enjoy  is  similar  to  that  enjoyed  by 
 glorified  spirits  before  the  resurrection.  " 
 
 Sept.  16.  Sabbath.  He  awaked  exclaiming,  "I  am  going 
 to  mount  Zion,  to  the  city  of  the  living  God,  to  the  heavenly 
 Jerusalem,  to  an  innumerable  company  of  angels,  to  the  general 
 assembly  and  church  of  the  first  born,  and  to  God  the  Judge  ot 
 all. " 
 
 During  the  night  of  September  17th,  he  was  seized  Avith 
 spasms,  which,  it  seemed,  must  separate  soul  and  body.  It  was 
 not  thought  by  his  physician,  that  he  could  survive  a  second 
 attack ;  but  his  hold  on  life  remained,  though  the  spasffis  con- 
 tinued to  return  every  succeeding  night  with  more  or  less 
 violence.  Every  new  attaclc  seemed,  however,  to  strengthen  the 
 energies  of  his  mind.  *  No  better  evidence  of  this  can  be 
 desired,  than  is  exhibited  in  a  letter  which  he  dictated  to  his 
 sister :  — 
 
 "  Sept.  19. 
 
 "Dear  sister:  —  Were  I  to  adopt  the  figurative  language  of 
 
 *"  The  soul's  dark  cottage,  shattered  and  decayed, 
 Let  in  new  light  through  chinks  which  time  had  made." 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 Bunyan,  I  might  date  this  letter  from  the  land  of  Beulah,  of 
 which  I  have  been  for  some  weeks  a  happy  inhabitant.  The 
 celestial  city  is  full  in  my  view.  Its  glories  beam  upon  me,  its 
 breezes  fan  me,  its  odors  are  wafted  to  me,  its  sounds  strike 
 upon  my  ears,  and  its  spirit  is  breathed  into  my  heart.  Nothing 
 separates  me  from  it  but  the  river  of  death,  which  now  appears 
 but  as  an  insignificant  rill,  that  may  be  crossed  at  a  single  step, 
 whenever  God  shall  give  permission.  The  Sun  of  Righteous- 
 ness has  been  gradually  drawing  nearer  and  nearer,  appearing 
 larger  and  brighter  as  he  approached,  and  now  he  fills  the 
 whole  hemisphere ;  pouring  forth  a  flood  of  glory,  in  which  I 
 seem  to  float  like  an  insect  in  the  beams  of  the  sun ;  exulting, 
 yet  almost  trembling,  while  I  gaze  on  this  excessive  brightness, 
 and  wondering,  with  unutterable  wonder,  why  God  should 
 deign  thus  to  shine  upon  a  sinful  worm.  A  single  heart  and  a 
 single  tongue  seem  altogether  inadequate  to  my  wants ;  I  want 
 a  whole  heart  for  every  separate  emotion,  and  a  whole  tongue 
 to  express  that  emotion. 
 
 "  But  why  do  I  speak  thus  of  myself  and  my  feelings  7  why 
 not  speak  only  of  our  God  and  Redeemer  1  It  is  because  I 
 know  not  what  to  say.  When  I  would  speak  of  them,  my 
 words  are  all  swallowed  up.  I  can  only  tell  you  what  effects 
 their  presence  produces,  and  even  of  these  I  can  tell  you  but 
 very  little.  O,  my  sister,  my  sister  !  could  you  but  know  what 
 awaits  the  Christian  ;  could  you  know  only  so  much  as  I  know, 
 you  coiild  not  refrain  from  rejoicing,  and  even  leaping  for  joy. 
 Labors,  trials,  troubles,  would  be  nothing ;  you  would  rejoice 
 in  afflictions,  and  glory  in  tribulations  ;  and,  like  Paul  and  Silas, 
 sing  God's  praises  in  the  darkest  night,  and  in  the  deepest  dun- 
 geon. You  have  known  a  little  of  my  trials  and  conflicts,  and 
 know  that  they  have  been  neither  few  nor  small ;  and  I  hope 
 this  glorious  termination  of  them  will  serve  to  strengthen  your 
 faith,  and  elevate  you  hope. 
 
 "And  now,  my  dear,  dear  sister,  farewell.  Hold  on  your 
 Christian  course  but  a  few  days  longer,  and  you  will  meet  in 
 heaven, 
 
 "  Your  happy  and  affectionate  brother, 
 
 "  Edward  Payson." 
 
 The  next  day,  he  sent  for  the  editor  of  a  religious  journal, 
 
408 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 and  expressed  his  wishes  in  regard  to  the  disposition  which 
 should  be  made  of  a  certain  class  of  etfusions,  which  his  exit 
 would  probably  call  forth — adding,  '  I  make  this  request  about 
 as  much  for  your  sake  as  my  own.'  He  had  then  survived 
 three  or  four  of  these  dreadful  nocturnal  attacks,  but  observed 
 that  he  could  not  calculate  upon  surviving  another.  In  answer 
 to  the  question,  why  he  was  thus  affected  in  the  night,  rather 
 than  the  day, — he  proceeded,  with  as  much  readiness  as  if  it 
 had  been  the  study  of  his  life,  to  give  a  philosophical  account 
 of  the  change  which  takes  place  in  the  body,  in  its  transit 
 from  a  state  of  wakefulness  to  that  of  sleep.  "  Then,"  said 
 he, — that  is,  as  soon  as  the  will  resigns  its  power  over  the  mus- 
 cles and  organs  of  the  body — "  then  my  diseases  commence 
 their  gambols." 
 
 To  his  daughter,  who  was  obliged  to  defer  a  contemplated 
 undertaking  by  an  approaching  storm,  he  turned,  and  said  with 
 a  smile  —  "  I  suppose  you  feel  as  if  the  equinox  ought  to  be  de- 
 ferred on  account  of  your  school." 
 
 Sept.  21.  "  O,  Avhat  a  blessed  thing  it  is  to  lose  one's  will ! 
 Since  I  have  lost  my  will,  I  have  found  happiness.  There  can 
 be  no  such  thing  as  disappointment  to  me,  for  I  have  no  desires 
 but  that  God's  will  may  be  accomplished." 
 
 "1  have  been  all  my  life  like  a  child  Avhose  father  wishes  to 
 fix  his  undivided  attention.  At  first,  the  child  runs  about  the 
 room, — but  his  father  ties  up  his  feet ;  he  then  plays  with  his 
 hands,  until  they  likewise  are  tied.  Thus  he  continues  to  do, 
 till  he  is  completely  tied  up;  then,  when  he  can  do  nothing 
 else,  he  will  attend  to  his  father.  Just  so  God  has  been  dealing 
 ■with  me,  to  induce  me  to  place  my  happiness  in  him  alone. 
 But  I  blindly  continued  to  look  for  it  here,  and  God  has  kept 
 cutting  off  one  source  of  enjoyment  after  another,  till  I  find  that 
 1  can  do  without  them  all,  and  yet  enjoy  more  happiness  than 
 ever  in  my  Ufe  before." 
 
 "  It  sounds  flat,  when  people  tell  me  that  it  is  just  for  God 
 to  afflict  me,  as  if  justice  did  not  require  infinitely  more." 
 
 He  was  asked,  "  Do  you  feel  reconciled — "  O  !  that  is  too 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 409 
 
 cold.  I  rejoice,  I  triumph  !  and  this  happiness  will  endure  as 
 long  as  God  himself,  for  it  consists  in  admiring  and  adoring 
 hiui." 
 
 '•'I  can  find  no  words  to  express  my  happiness.  I  seem  to  be 
 swimming  in  a  river  of  pleasure,  which  is  carrying  me  on  to 
 the  great  fountain." 
 
 Sabbath  morning,  Sept.  23,  he  said, — "  Last  night  I  had  a 
 full,  clear  view  of  Death  as  the  king  of  terrors ;  how  he  comes 
 atid  crowds  the  poor  sinner  to  the  very  verge  of  the  precipice  of 
 destruction,  and  then  pushes  him  down  headlong  !  But  I  felt 
 that  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  this ;  and  I  loved  to  sit  like  an 
 infant  at  the  feet  of  Christ,  who  saved  me  from  this  fate.  I  felt 
 that  death  was  disarmed  of  all  its  terrors;  all  he  could  do  would 
 be  to  touch  me,  and  let  my  soul  loose  to  go  to  my  Saviour." 
 
 "  Christians  are  like  passengers  setting  out  together  in  a  ship 
 for  some  distant  country.  Very  frequently  one  drops  overboard ; 
 but  his  companions  know  that  he  has  only  gone  a  shorter  way 
 to  the  same  port ;  and  that,  when  they  arrive  there,  they  shall 
 find  him  ;  so  that  all  they  lose  is  his  company  during  the  rest 
 of  the  voyage." 
 
 "  I  long  to  measure  out  a  full  cup  of  happiness  to  every 
 body,  but  Christ  wisely  keeps  that  prerogative  in  his  own 
 hands." 
 
 "  It  seems  as  if  all  the  bottles  of  heaven  were  opened;  and 
 all  its  fulness  and  happiness,  and  I  trust,  no  small  portion  of  its 
 benevolence,  is  come  down  into  my  heart." 
 
 "I  am  more  and  more  convinced,  that  the  happiness  of 
 heaven  is  a  benevolent  happiness.  In  proportion  as  my  joy 
 has  increased,  I  have  been  filled  with  intense  love  to  all  crea- 
 tures, and  a  strong  desire  that  they  may  partake  of  my  hap- 
 piness." 
 
 Sept.  26.    In  answer  to  some  complaints  of  one  of  the  fami- 
 ly, he  said — "Perhaps  there  is  nothing  more  trying  to  the 
 VOL.  I.  52 
 
410 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 faith  and  patience  of  Christians,  or  which  appears  to  them  more 
 mysterious,  than  the  small  supphes  of  grace  which  they  receive, 
 and  the  delays  which  they  meet  with  in  having  their  prayers 
 answered ;  so  that  they  are  sometimes  ready  to  say,  It  is  in  vain 
 to  wait  upon  the  Lord  any  longer.  He  then  mentioned  the 
 text,  '  Wherefore  gird  up  the  loins  of  your  minds,  be  sober,  and 
 hope  to  the  end  for  the  grace  that  is  to  be  brought  unto  you  at 
 the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ.'  A  large  portion  of  the  grace 
 which  Christians  are  to  receive  will  be  given  to  them  at  the 
 second  coming  of  Christ,  or  immediately  after  death ;  and  this 
 will  always  be  in  proportion  to  their  prayers  and  exertions  here. 
 Christians  need  not,  therefore,  be  discouraged  at  the  slow  pro- 
 gress they  make,  and  the  little  success  which  attends  their 
 efforts ;  for  they  may  be  assured  that  every  exertion  is  noticed, 
 and  will  be  rewarded,  by  their  heavenly  Father." 
 
 To  a  young  convert  he  said, — "  You  will  have  to  go  through 
 many  conflicts  and  trials  ;  you  must  be  put  in  the  furnace,  and 
 tempted,  and  tried,  in  order  to  show  you  what  is  in  your  heart. 
 Sometimes  it  will  seem  as  if  Satan  had  you  in  his  power,  and 
 that  the  more  you  struggle  and  pray  agamst  sin,  the  more  it 
 prevails  against  you.  But  when  you  are  thus  tried  and  de- 
 sponding, remember  me  ;  I  have  gone  through  all  this,  and  now 
 you  see  the  end." 
 
 To  another — "  You  recollect  the  story  of  David  rescuing  the 
 lamb  from  the  lion  and  the  bear.  David  loved  the  lamb  before 
 he  rescued  it  from  danger;  but  he  loved  it  more  afterwards.  So 
 Christ  loves  all  his  creatures ;  but  he  loves  them  more  after  he 
 has  taken  them  into  his  fold,  and  owned  them  as  the  purchase 
 of  his  precious  blood." 
 
 "  Christians  might  avoid  much  trouble  and  inconvenience,  if 
 they  would  only  believe  what  they  profess, —  that  God  is  able 
 to  make  them  happy  without  any  thing  else.  They  imagine 
 that  if  such  a  dear  friend  were  to  die,  or  such  and  such  blessings 
 to  be  removed,  they  should  be  miserable ;  whereas  God  can 
 make  them  a  thousand  times  happier  without  them.  To  men- 
 tion my  own  case, — God  has  been  depriving  me  of  one  blessing 
 after  another  ;  but  as  every  one  was  removed,  he  has  come  in 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 411 
 
 and  filled  up  its  place ;  and  now,  when  I  am  a  cripple,  and  not 
 able  to  move,  I  am  happier  than  ever  I  was  in  my  hfe  before,  or 
 ever  expected  to  be,  and,  if  I  had  believed  this  twenty  years 
 ago,  I  might  have  been  spared  much  anxiety." 
 
 "  If  God  had  told  me  some  time  ago,  that  he  was  about  to 
 make  me  as  happy  as  I  could  be  in  this  world,  and  then  had 
 told  me  that  he  should  begin  by  crippling  me  in  all  my  limbs, 
 and  removing  me  from  all  my  usual  sources  of  enjoyment;  I 
 should  have  thought  it  a  very  strange  mode  of  accomplishing 
 his  purpose.  And  yet,  how  is  his  wisdom  manifest  even  in 
 this  !  for  if  you  should  see  a  man  shut  up  in  a  close  room,  idol- 
 izing a  set  of  lamps,  and  rejoicing  in  their  light,  and  you  Avish- 
 ed  to  make  him  truly  happy,  you  would  begin  by  blowing  out 
 all  his  lamps  ;  and  then  throw  open  the  shutters,  to  let  in  the 
 light  of  heaven." 
 
 "Suppose  a  son  is  walking  with  his  father,  in  whose  wisdom 
 he  places  the  most  entire  confidence.  He  follows  wherever  his 
 father  leads,  though  it  may  be  through  thorns  and  briars, 
 cheerfully  and  contentedly.  Another  son,  we  will  suppose, 
 distrusts  his  father's  wisdom  and  love,  and,  when  the  path  is 
 rough  or  uneven,  begins  to  murmur  and  repine,  wishing  that 
 he  might  be  allowed  to  choose  his  own  path;  and  though  he 
 is  obliged  to  follow,  it  is  with  great  reluctance  and  discontent. 
 Now,  the  reason  that  Christians  in  general  do  not  enjoy  more 
 of  God's  presence,  is,  that  they  are  not  willing  to  walk  in  his 
 path,  when  it  crosses  their  own  inclinations.  But  we  shall 
 never  be  happy,  until  we  acquiesce  with  perfect  cheerfulness 
 in  all  his  decisions,  and  follow  wherever  he  leads  without  a 
 murmur." 
 
 After  it  had  become  certain  that  he  would  never  again  leave 
 his  chamber  till  he  was  carried  out,  yet,  being  unceasingly  de- 
 sirous to  benefit  his  people,  he  sent  a  request,  which  was  an- 
 nounced from  the  pulpit,  that  they  would  repair  to  his  chamber. 
 Once,  It  is  believed,  they  came  indiscriminately ;  at  other  times 
 in  specified  classes,  including  as  many  as  the  chamber  could  con- 
 tain. When  he  had  addressed  to  them  collectively  his  last  most 
 solemn  and  aflectionate  counsel,  till  compelled  to  desist  by  the 
 
412 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 failure  of  his  strength,  he  took  them  individually  by  the  hand, 
 and,  with  a  heavenly  smile,  bade  them  farewell ! 
 
 To  members  of  his  congregation,  he  spoke  nearly  as  fol- 
 lows :  — 
 
 "  It  has  often  been  remarked,  that  people  who  have  been  in- 
 to the  other  world,  cannot  come  back  to  tell  us  what  they  have 
 seen ;  but  I  am  so  near  the  eternal  world,  that  I  can  see  almost 
 as  clearly  as  if  I  were  there ;  and  I  see  enough  to  satisfy  my- 
 self, at  least,  of  the  truth  of  the  doctrines  which  I  have  preach- 
 ed. I  do  not  know  that  I  should  feel  at  all  surer,  had  I  been 
 really  there. 
 
 "  It  is  always  interesting  to  see  others  in  a  situation  in  which 
 we  know  that  we  must  shortly  be  placed  ourselves ;  and  we 
 all  know  that  we  must  die.  And  to  see  a  poor  creature,  when, 
 after  an  alternation  of  hopes  and  fears,  he  finds  that  his  disease 
 is  mortal,  and  death  comes  to  tear  him  away  from  every  thing 
 he  loves,  and  crowds,  and  crowds  him  to  the  very  verge  of  the 
 precipice  of  destruction,  and  then  thrusts  him  down  headlong ! 
 There  he  is,  cast  into  an  unknown  world ;  no  friend,  no  Saviour 
 to  receive  him. 
 
 "  O,  how  different  is  this  from  the  state  of  a  man  who  is  pre- 
 pared to  die.  He  is  not  obliged  to  be  crowded  reluctantly  along ; 
 but  the  other  world  comes  like  a  great  magnet,  to  draw  him 
 away  from  this  ;  and  he  knows  that  he  is  going  to  enjoy, — and 
 not  only  knows,  but  begins  to  taste  it,  —  perfect  happiness;  for- 
 ever and  ever  ;  forever  and  ever  !       *       *        *  * 
 
 "  And  now  God  is  in  this  room ;  I  see  him ;  and  O,  how 
 unspeakably  lovely  and  glorious  does  he  appear,  —  worthy  of 
 ten  thousand  thousand  hearts,  if  we  had  them.  He  is  here, 
 and  hears  me  pleading  with  the  creatures  that  he  has  made, 
 whom  he  preserves,  and  loads  with  blessings,  to  love  him.  And 
 O,  how  terrible  does  it  appear  to  me,  to  sin  against  this  God; 
 to  set  up  our  wills  in  opposition  to  his,  and,  when  we  awake  in 
 the  morning,  instead  of  thinking,  '  What  shall  I  do  to  please 
 my  God  to-day  V  to  inquire,  '  What  shall  I  do  to  please  myself 
 to-day  ?'  "  After  a  short  pause  he  continued,  "  It  makes  my 
 blood  run  cold  to  think  how  inexpressibly  miserable  I  should 
 now  be  without  religion.  To  lie  here,  and  see  myself  tottering 
 on  the  verge  of  destruction  ! — O.  I  should  be  distracted!  And 
 
ED  WARD  PAYSON. 
 
 413 
 
 when  I  see  my  fellow-creatures  liable  every  moment  to  be  redu- 
 ced to  this  situation,  I  am  in  an  agony  for  them,  that  they  may 
 escape  their  danger  before  it  be  too  late.  When  people  repent, 
 they  begin  to  see  God's  infinite  perfections,  how  amiable  and 
 glorious  he  is,  and  the  heart  relents  and  mourns  that  it  has 
 treated  him  so  ungratefully. 
 
 "  Suppose  we  should  hear  the  sound  of  a  man's  voice  plead- 
 ing earnestly  with  some  one,  but  could  not  distinguish  the 
 words ;  and  we  should  inquire,  '  What  is  that  man  pleading 
 for  so  earnestly?'  'O,  he  is  only  pleading  with  a  fellow  crea- 
 ture to  love  his  God,  his  Saviour,  his  Preserver  and  Benefactor. 
 He  is  only  pleading  with  him  not  to  throw  away  his  immortal 
 soul,  not  to  pull  down  everlasting  wretchedness  upon  his  own 
 head.  He  is  only  persuading  him  to  avoid  eternal  misery,  and 
 accept  eternal  happiness.'  '  Is  it  possible,'  we  should  exclaim, 
 '  that  any  persuasion  can  be  necessary  for  thisT'  and  yet  it 
 is  necessary.  O  my  friends,  do,  do  love  this  glorious  Being  — 
 do  seek  for  the  salvation  of  your  immortal  souls.  Hear  the 
 voice  of  your  dying  minister,  while  he  entreats  you  to  care  for 
 your  souls." 
 
 He  afterwards  said,  —  "I  am  always  sorry  when  I  say  any 
 thing  to  any  one  who  comes  in ;  it  seems  so  inadequate  to  what 
 I  wish  to  express.  The  words  sink  right  down  under  the  weight 
 of  the  meaning  I  wish  to  convey." 
 
 On  another  occasion,  —  "I  find  no  satisfaction  in  looking 
 at  any  thing  I  have  done ;  I  want  to  leave  all  this  behind, 
 —  it  is  nothing, — and  fly  to  Christ  to  be  clothed  in  his  righte- 
 ousness." 
 
 Again,  — "  1  have  done  nothing  myself  I  have  not  fought, 
 but  Christ  has  fought  for  me ;  I  have  not  run,  but  Christ  has 
 carried  me;  I  have  not  worked,  but  Christ  has  wrought  in  me; 
 Christ  has  done  all." 
 
 The  perfections  of  God  were  to  him  a  well-spring  of  joy,  and 
 the  promises  were  "  breasts  of  consolation,"  whence  his  soul 
 drew  its  comfort  and  its  ahment.  "  O !"  exclaimed  he,  "  the 
 loving  kindness  of  God — his  loving  kindness !    This  afternoon, 
 
414 
 
 M  E  M  O I K  OF 
 
 while  I  was  meditating  on  it,  the  Lord  seemed  to  pass  by,  and 
 proclaim  himself '  The  Lord,  the  Lord  God,  merciful  and  gra- 
 cious !'  O  how  gracious  !  Try  lo  conceive  of  that,  his  loving- 
 kindness,  as  if  it  were  not  enough  to  say  kindness,  but — loving 
 kindness.  What  must  be  the  loving  kindness  of  God,  who  is 
 himself  infinite  love  ! 
 
 "  It  seemed  this  afternoon  as  if  Christ  said  to  me,  '  You  have 
 often  wondered  and  been  impatient  at  the  way  by  which  I  have 
 led  you  ;  but  what  do  you  think  of  it  now?'  And  I  was  cut  to 
 the  heart,  when  I  looked  back  and  saw  the  wisdom  and  goodness 
 by  which  I  had  been  guided,  that  I  could  ever  for  a  moment 
 distrust  his  love." 
 
 A  clergyman  from  another  state,  who  visited  Dr.  Payson 
 about  this  stage  of  his  illness,  gave  the  following  account  of  the 
 interview  in  a  letter  to  a  friend  : — 
 
 "  His  eye  beams  with  the  same  animation  as  ever.  The 
 muscles  of  his  face  are  unaffected  by  that  which  has  spread  all 
 but  death  throughout  the  other  parts  of  his  system.  When  I 
 entered  the  chamber,  addressing  me  with  a  smile,  he  said,  '  I 
 have  no  hand  to  welcome  you  with,  but  I  am  glad  to  see  you.' 
 I  observed  to  him,  that  I  was  reluctant  to  lay  any  tax  upon  him 
 in  his  present  weak  state,  but  had  felt  desirous  to  see  him  a 
 moment.  He  replied  that  he  did  not  feel  parsimonious  of  the 
 poor  remains  of  strength  he  had  left :  he  had  got  so  near 
 through,  that  it  was  not  worth  while  to  be  solicitous  about 
 saving  for  future  time.  He  conversed  in  a  low,  audible  voice, 
 and  in  the  same  strain  of  pointed,  pithy  remark  as  when  in 
 health.  He  observed,  that  the  point  in  which  he  believed  min- 
 isters generally  failed  most,  and  in  which  he  had  certainly  failed 
 most,  was  in  doing  duty  professionally,  and  not  from  the  heart. 
 I  could  not  but  say  to  him,  that,  probably,  his  practice  had  been 
 marked  with  less  of  this  error  than  that  of  most  others.  Ho 
 seemed  pained  with  the  thought  that  any  should  be  more  defi- 
 cient than  he  had  been :  '  O,  I  hope  it  is  not  so  !  I  hope  it  is 
 not  so  !'  Referring  to  the  peace  which  the  gospel  afforded  him 
 under  his  trials,  he  said,  '  I  have  never  half  valued,  as  I  ought, 
 the  doctrines  which  I  have  preached.    The  system  is  great  and 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 415 
 
 glorious,  and  is  worthy  of  our  utmost  efforts  to  promote  it. 
 The  interests  depending  will  justify  us  in  our  strongest  meas- 
 ures. In  every  respect  we  may  embark  our  all  upon  it;  it  will 
 sustain  us." 
 
 ******* 
 "  Speaking  of  the  temper  requisite  to  the  right  discharge  of 
 ministerial  duty,  he  said,  '  1  never  was  fit  to  say  a  word  to  a 
 sinner,  except  when  1  had  a  broken  heart  myself;  when  I  was 
 subdued  and  melted  into  penitence,  and  felt  as  though  I  had 
 jiist  received  pardon  to  my  own  soul,  and  when  my  heart  was 
 fill  of  tenderness  and  pity — no  anger,  no  anger.'  He  expressed 
 himself  with  great  earnestness  respecting  the  grace  of  God  as 
 exercised  in  saving  lost  men,  and  seemed  particularly  affected 
 that  it  should  be  bestowed  on  one  so  ill  deserving  as  himself 
 "  O  how  sovereign  !  O  how  sovereign  !  Grace  is  the  only 
 thing  that  can  make  us  like  God.  I  might  be  dragged  through 
 heaven,  earth  and  hell,  and  I  should  be  still  the  same  sinful, 
 polluted  wretch,  unless  God  himself  should  renew  and  cleanse 
 me.'  He  inquired  whether  I  could  preach  to  his  people  on  the 
 morrow.  Being  told  that  I  was  not  well,  he  replied,  'Then  do 
 not  preach;  I  have  too  often  preached  when  I  was  not  able.' 
 
 "On  taking  leave,  I  expressed  a  hope  that  he  might  continue 
 to  enjoy  the  presence  of  God,  and  receive  even  increasing 
 peace  if  he  could  bear  it.  'Oh!'  said  he,  'when  we  meet  in 
 heaven,  we  shall  see  how  little  we  know  about  it.'  His 
 whole  manner  and  appearance  is  that  of  a  man  who  has  drunk 
 into  the  spirit  of  heaven  far  more  deeply  than  those  around 
 him." 
 
 Oct.  7.  In  conversation  with  his  eldest  daughter,  on  being 
 asked  whether  self-examination  was  not  a  very  difficult  duty 
 for  young  Christians  to  perform,  he  replied,  "Yes;  and  for  old 
 ones  too,  because  it  is  displeasing  to  the  pride  of  the  heart, 
 because  wandering  thoughts  are  then  most  apt  to  intrude,  and 
 because  of  the  deceitfulness  of  the  heart.  When  a  Christian 
 first  begins  to  look  into  his  heart,  he  sees  nothing  but  confusion; 
 a  heap  of  sins  and  a  very  little  good,  mixed  up  together ;  and  he 
 knows  not  how  to  separate  them,  or  how  to  begin  self-examina- 
 tion. But  let  him  persevere  in  his  efforts,  and  soon  order  will 
 arise  out  of  confusion."    She  mentioned  to  him  a  passage  in  the 
 
416 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 life  of  Mr.  Alleine,  which  led  him  to  say,  "  We  never  confess 
 any  faults  that  we  consider  really  disgraceful.  We  complain  of 
 our  hardness  of  heart,  stupidity,  &c. ;  but  we  never  confess 
 envy  or  covetousness,  or  revenge,  or  any  thing  that  we  suppose 
 will  lower  us  in  the  opinion  of  others;  and  this  proves  that  we 
 do  not  feel  ashamed  of  coldness  or  stupidity.  In  short,  when 
 young  Christians  make  confessions,  unless  there  is  an  obvious 
 call  for  them,  it  usually  proceeds  from  one  of  these  three  mo- 
 tives ; — either  they  wish  to  be  thought  very  humble,  and  to  pos- 
 sess great  knowledge  of  their  own  hearts ;  or  they  think  it  is  a 
 fault  which  the  other  has  perceived,  and  are  willing  to  have  the 
 credit  of  having  discovered  and  striven  against  it ;  or  they  con- 
 fess some  fault,  from  which  they  are  remarkably  free,  in  order 
 to  elicit  a  compliment. 
 
 "  There  are  no  two  feelings  apparently  more  unlike  than  mor- 
 tified pride  and  gratified  pride  :  yet  they  are  in  reality  very 
 similar;  and  we  are  indulging  one  of  these  feelings  almost  con- 
 stantly. When  God  permits  every  thing  to  go  on  vpry  smooth- 
 ly, and  grants  us  some  comforts,  our  pride  is  gratified ;  we  are 
 pleased  with  ourselves,  with  God, — and  call  the  feeling  grati- 
 tude,— and  with  those  around  us;  we  can  be  very  pleasant 
 and  obliging.  But  let  this  state  of  things  be  reversed ;  let  our 
 corruptions  be  suffered  to  break  loose,  and  trials  and  conflicts  to 
 assail  us, — then  our  pride  is  mortified;  we  begin  to  fret  and 
 repine,  and  say  that  all  our  endeavors  are  useless.  You  cannot 
 yet  conceive  how  very  small  a  portion  of  grace  we  have :  so 
 that,  if  we  doubt  whether  matter  is  infinitely  divisible,  we  can 
 hardly  doubt  that  grace  is  so. 
 
 "  With  regard  to  self-examination,  we  should  always  have, 
 as  it  were,  our  eye  turned  inward,  to  watch  our  motives  and 
 feeUngs.  We  should  also,  at  night,  review  the  conduct  of  the 
 day ;  and  it  would  aid  you  to  do  this,  if  you  made  an  abstract 
 of  the  duties  you  owe  to  God  and  to  your  fellow-creatures  in  the 
 several  relations  of  life,  and  also  of  your  besetting  sins.  But  the 
 most  important  direction  I  can  give  you,  is,  to  look  to  Christ ; 
 for  while  we  are  contemplating  his  perfections,  we  insensibly 
 imbibe  his  spirit." 
 
 Notwithstanding  his  deep  seriousness,  there  was  occasionally 
 a  pleasantry  in  his  manner  of  expressing  himself,  which  would 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 417 
 
 excite  an  involuntary  smile  :  — "  What  contrary  and  unreasona- 
 ble creatures  we  are  !  The  more  God  does  for  us,  the  less  we 
 thank  him.  Here  I  am,  stripped  of  more  than  half  my  bles- 
 sings, as  we  ordinarily  estimate  them,  and  yet  1  never  felt  half 
 so  grateful  to  God  before.  We  are  just  like  the  harlequin,  when 
 hired  to  mourn,  of  whom  his  employer  said,  '  The  better  I  pay 
 him,  the  more  he  won't  grieve  !'  " 
 
 A  gray-headed  member  of  his  church,  who  is  usually  very 
 abrupt  in  his  address,  but  generally  very  scriptural,  entered  his 
 chamber  one  day  with  the  salutation — "Watchman,  what  of 
 the  night?"  —  "  I  should  think  it  was  about  noon-day  "  —  was 
 the  answer. 
 
 On  Sabbath  day,  Oct  7*  it  was  the  privileged  lot  of  the 
 young  men  of  the  society  to  assemble,  at  his  request,  in  his 
 chamber,  when  he  addressed  them  in  substance  as  follows:  — 
 
 "  My  young  friends,  you  will  all  one  day  be  obliged  to  em- 
 bark on  the  same  voyage,  on  which  I  am  just  embarking ;  and 
 as  it  has  been  my  especial  employment,  during  my  past  life,  to 
 recommend  to  you  a  Pilot  to  guide  you  through  this  voyage,  I 
 wished  to  tell  you  what  a  precious  Pilot  he  is,  that  you  may  be 
 induced  to  choose  him  for  yours.  I  felt  desirous  that  you  might 
 see  that  tlie  religion  I  have  preached  can  support  me  in  death. 
 You  know  that  I  have  many  ties  which  bind  me  to  earth ;  a 
 family  to  whom  I  am  strongly  attached,  and  a  people  whom  I 
 love  almost  as  well :  but  the  other  world  acts  like  a  much 
 stronger  magnet,  and  draws  my  heart  away  from  this.  Death 
 comes  every  night,  and  stands  by  my  bedside  in  the  form  of  ter- 
 rible convulsions,  every  one  of  which  threatens  to  separate  the 
 soul  from  the  body.  These  continue  to  grow  worse  and  worse, 
 until  every  bone  is  almost  dislocated  with  pain,  leaving  me  with 
 the  certainty  that  I  shall  have  it  all  to  endure  again  the  next 
 night.  Yet,  while  my  body  is  thus  tortured,  the  soul  is  perfect- 
 ly, perfectly  happy  and  peaceful — more  happy  than  I  can  pos- 
 sibly express  to  you.    I  lie  here,  and  feel  these  convulsions 
 
 *  The  dates  in  this  chapter  fix  the  time  to  which  a  part  only  of  his  obser- 
 vations must  be  referred  ;  generally  the  first,  or  first  two  or  three  paragraphs 
 which  follow  them.    The  precise  date  of  most  of  them  is  not  recollected. 
 VOL.  I.  53 
 
418 
 
 M  E  M  O  J  R  OF 
 
 extending  higher  and  higher,  without  the  least  uneasiness  ;  but 
 my  soul  is  filled  with  joy  unspeakable.  I  seem  to  swim  in  a 
 flood  of  glory  which  God  pours  down  upon  me.  And  I  know, 
 I  know^  that  my  happiness  is  but  begun;  I  cannot  doubt  that  it 
 will  last  forever.  And  now  is  this  all  a  delusion?  Is  it  a  de- 
 lusion which  can  fill  the  soul  to  overflowing  with  joy  in  such 
 circumstances?  If  so,  it  is  surely  a  delusion  better  than  any 
 reality.  But  no,  it  is  not  a  delusion  ;  I  feel  that  it  is  not.  I  do 
 not  merely  know  that  I  shall  enjoy  all  this  — I  enjoy  it  now. 
 
 "My  young  friends, —  were  I  master  of  the  whole  world, 
 what  could  it  do  for  me  like  this  ?  Were  all  its  wealth  at  my 
 feet,  and  all  its  inhabitants  striving  to  make  me  happy,  what 
 could  they  do  for  me  ?  Nothing ! — nothing !  Now,  all  this  hap- 
 piness I  trace  back  to  the  religion  Avhich  I  have  preached,  and 
 to  the  time  when  that  great  change  took  place  in  my  heart, 
 which  I  have  often  told  you  is  necessary  to  salvation ;  and  I 
 now  tell  you  again,  that  without  this  change,  you  cannot,  no, 
 you  cannot,  see  the  kingdom  of  God. 
 
 "  And  now,  standing,  as  I  do,  on  the  ridge  which  separates 
 the  two  worlds,  feeling  what  intense  happiness  or  misery  the 
 soul  is  capable  of  sustaining  ;  judging  of  your  capacities  by  my 
 own,  and  believing  that  those  capacities  will  be  filled  to  the  very 
 brim  with  joy  or  wretchedness  forever  ;  can  it  be  wondered  at, 
 that  my  heart  yearns  over  you,  my  children,  that  you  may 
 choose  life,  and  not  death  ?  Is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  that  I  long 
 to  present  every  one  of  you  with  a  full  cup  of  happiness,  and 
 see  you  drink  it ;  that  I  long  to  have  you  make  the  same  choice 
 which  I  made,  and  from  which  springs  all  my  happiness  ? 
 
 "A  young  man,  just  about  to  leave  this  world,  exclaimed, 
 'The  battle's  fouglit !  the  battle's  fought!  the  battle's  fought! 
 but  the  victory  is  lost  forever.'  But  I  can  say,  The  battle's 
 fought,  and  the  victory  is  won  !  the  victory  is  won,  forever  !  I 
 am  going  to  bathe  in  an  ocean  of  purity,  and  benevolence,  and 
 happiness,  to  all  eternity.  And  now,  my  children,  let  me  bless 
 you ;  not  with  the  blessing  of  a  poor,  feeble,  dying  man,  but 
 with  the  blessuig  of  the  infinite  God.  The  grace  of  God,  and 
 the  love  of  Christ,  and  the  communion  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  be 
 with  all,  and  each  one  of  you,  forever  and  ever  :  amen." 
 
 Having  delivered  his  dying  messages  to  all  classes  among  his 
 
EDWARB  PAYSON. 
 
 419 
 
 own  flock,  he  commissioned  a  ministering  brother  to  bear  one 
 to  the  association  of  ministers,  who  were  to  meet  in  a  few  days. 
 The  purport  of  it  was — '  a  hearty  assurance  of  the  ardent  love 
 with  which  he  remembered  them  even  in  death ;  an  exhorta- 
 tion to  love  one  another  with  a  pure  heart  fervently ;  to  love 
 their  work,  to  be  diUgent  in  it,  to  expect  success,  to  bear  up 
 imder  their  discouragements,  be  faithful  unto  death,  and  look 
 for  their  reward  in  heaven.'  —  I  rejoice,  said  the  brother,  rejoice 
 more  than  I  can  express,  to  be  the  bearer  of  such  a  message ; 
 for  you,  perhaps,  are  aware  that  many  of  your  brethren  have 
 thought  you  distant,  and  reserved,  and  as  having  cherished  too 
 little  of  a  fellow-feeling  towards  them.  "I  know  it,"  said  he; 
 "  but  my  apparent  reserve  was  not  owing  to  any  want  of  af- 
 fection for  them,  but  to  a  very  different  cause  :  I  have  been  all 
 my  days,  like  a  soldier  in  the  forefront  of  the  hottest  battle,  so 
 intent  in  fighting  for  my  own  life,  that  I  could  not  see  who  was 
 filling  around  me." 
 
 While  speaking  of  the  rapturous  views  he  had  of  the  heavenly 
 world,  he  was  asked  if  it  did  not  seem  almost  like  the  clear 
 light  of  vision,  rather  than  that  of  faith.  '-Oh!"  he  replied, 
 "  I  don't  know — it  is  too  much  for  the  poor  eyes  of  my  soul  to 
 Ijear !  they  are  almost  blinded  with  the  excessive  brightness. 
 All  I  want  is  to  be  a  mirror,  to  reflect  some  of  those  rays 
 to  those  around  me." 
 
 '•  My  .soul,  instead  of  growing  weaker  and  more  languishing, 
 as  my  body  does,  seems  to  be  endued  with  an  angel's  energies, 
 and  to  be  ready  to  break  from  the  body,  and  join  those  around 
 the  throne." 
 
 A  friend  with  whom  he  had  been  conversing  on  his  extreme 
 bodily  sufferings,  and  his  high  spiritual  joys,  remarked — "I 
 presume  it  is  no  longer  incredible  to  you,  if  ever  it  was,  that 
 martyrs  should  rejoice  and  praise  God  in  the  flames  and  on  the 
 rack."  "  No,"  said  he,  "  I  can  easily  believe  it.  I  have  suff'er- 
 ed  twenty  times  —  yes,  to  speak  within  bounds  —  twenty  times 
 as  much  as  I  could  in  being  burnt  at  the  stake,  while  my  joy  in 
 God  so  abounded,  as  to  render  my  sufferings  not  only  tolerable, 
 but  welcome.  The  sufferings  of  this  present  time  are  not  wor- 
 thy to  be  compared  with  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed." 
 
420 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 At  another  time,  —  "God  is  literally  now  my  all  in  all. 
 While  he  is  present  with  me,  no  event  can  in  the  least  dimin- 
 ish my  happiness  ;  and  were  the  whole  world  at  my  feet  trying 
 to  minister  to  my  comfort,  they  could  not  add  one  drop  to  the 
 cup." 
 
 "  It  seems  as  if  the  promise,  '  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears 
 from  their  eyes,'  Avas  already  fulfilled  to  me,  as  it  respects  tears 
 of  sorrow.  I  have  no  tears  to  shed  now,  but  those  of  love,  and 
 joy,  and  thankfulness." 
 
 Oct.  16.  To  his  daughter,  —  "You  will  avoid  much  pain 
 and  anxiety,  if  you  will  learn  to  trust  all  your  concerns  in  God's 
 hand.  '  Cast  all  your  care  upon  him,  for  he  careth  for  you.' 
 But  if  you  merely  go  and  say  that  you  cast  your  care  upon 
 him,  you  will  come  away  with  the  load  on  your  shoulders.  If  * 
 I  had  the  entire  disposal  of  your  situation,  and  could  decide 
 how  many  scholars  you  should  have,  and  what  success  you 
 should  meet  with,  you  would  feel  no  anxiety,  but  would  rely  on 
 my  love  and  wisdom ;  and  if  you  should  discover  any  solici- 
 tude, it  would  show  that  you  distrusted  one  or  the  other  of 
 these.  Now  all  your  concerns  are  in  the  hands  of  a  merciful 
 and  wise  Father ;  therefore,  it  is  an  insult  to  him  to  be  careful 
 and  anxious  concerning  them.  Trust  him  for  all,  —  abilities, 
 success,  and  every  thing  else, — and  you  will  never  have  reason 
 to  repent  it." 
 
 At  one  time,  he  was  heard  to  break  forth  in  the  following  so- 
 liloquy :  — 
 
 "What  an  assemblage  of  motives  to  holiness  does  the  gospel 
 present!  I  am  a  Christian  —  what  then?  Why,  I  am  a  re- 
 deemed sinner — a  pardoned  rebel — all  through  grace,  and  by 
 the  most  wonderful  means  which  infinite  wisdom  could  devise. 
 I  am  a  Christian — what  then?  Why,  I  am  a  temple  of  God, 
 and  surely  I  ought  to  be  pure  and  holy.  I  am  a  Christian  ; 
 Avhat  then  ?  I  am  a  child  of  God,  and  ought  to  be  filled  with 
 filial  love,  reverence,  joy,  and  gratitude.  I  am  a  Christian, 
 what  then  ?    Why,  I  am  a  disciple  of  Christ,  and  must  imitate 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 421 
 
 him  who  was  meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  and  pleased  not  him- 
 self, lama  Christian  —  what  then  ?  Why,  I  am  an  heir  of 
 heaven,  and  hastening  on  to  the  abodes  of  the  blessed,  to  join 
 the  fiiU  choir  of  glorified  ones,  in  singing  the  song  of  Moses  and 
 the  Lamb  ;  and  surely  I  ought  to  learn  that  song  on  earth." 
 
 To  Mrs.  Payson,  who,  while  ministering  to  him,  had  observ- 
 ed, "  Your  head  feels  hot,  and  seems  to  be  distended,"  he  re- 
 phed  —  "It  seems  as  if  the  soul  disdained  such  a  narrow 
 prison,  and  was  determined  to  break  through  with  an  angel's 
 energy,  and,  I  trust,  with  no  small  portion  of  an  angel's  feeling, 
 until  it  mounts  on  high." 
 
 Again,  —  "  It  seems  as  if  my  soul  had  found  a  pair  of  new 
 wings,  and  was  so  eager  to  try  them,  that,  in  her  fluttering,  she 
 would  rend  the  fine  net-work  of  the  body  to  pieces." 
 
 At  another  time,  —  "  My  dear,  I  should  think  it  might  encour- 
 age and  strengthen  you,  under  whatever  trials  you  may  be  call- 
 ed to  endure,  to  remember  me.  O !  you  must  believe  that  it 
 "will  be  great  peace  at  last." 
 
 At  another  time,  he  said  to  her,  —  "  After  I  am  gone,  you  wiH 
 find  many  little  streams  of  beneficence  pouring  in  upon  you, 
 and  you  will  perhaps  say,  '  I  wish  my  dear  husband  were  here 
 to  know  this.'  My  dear,  you  may  think  that  I  do  know  it  by 
 anticipation,  and  praise  God  for  it  now." 
 
 "  Hitherto  I  have  viewed  God  as  a  fixed  Star,  bright  indeed, 
 but  often  intercepted  by  clouds  ;  but  now  he  is  coming  nearer 
 and  nearer,  and  spreads  into  a  Sun  so  vast  and  glorious,  that 
 the  sight  is  too  dazzling  lor  flesh  and  blood  to  sustain."  This 
 was  not  a  blind  adoration  of  an  imaginary  deity ;  for.  added 
 he,  "  I  see  clearly  that  all  these  same  glorious  and  dazzling 
 perfections,  which  now  only  serve  to  kindle  my  affections  into 
 a  flame,  and  to  melt  down  my  soul  into  the  same  blessed  image, 
 would  bum  and  scorch  me  like  a  consuming  fire,  if  I  were  an 
 impenitent  sinner." 
 
 He  said  he  felt  no  solicitude  respecting  his  family ;  he  coula 
 
422 
 
 M  E  M  0 I K  OF 
 
 trust  them  all  in  the  hands  of  Christ.  To  feel  any  undue  so- 
 licitude on  their  account,  or  to  be  willing  to  leave  them  with 
 God,  would  be  like  "a  child  who  was  reluctant  to  go  to  school, 
 lest  his  father  should  burn  up  his  toys  and  play-things,  while  he 
 was  absent." 
 
 Conversing  with  a  friend  on  his  preparation  for  his  departure, 
 he  compared  himself  to  "  a  person  who  had  been  visiting  his 
 friends,  and  Avas  about  to  return  home.  His  trunk  was  packed, 
 and  every  thing  prepared,  and  he  was  looking  out  of  the  win- 
 dow, waiting  for  the  stage  to  take  him  in." 
 
 When  speaking  of  the  sufferings  he  endured,  particularly  the 
 sensation  of  burning  in  his  side  and  left  leg,  he  said  that,  if  he 
 expected  to  live  long  enough  to  make  it  worth  while,  he  would 
 have  his  leg  taken  off.  On  Mrs.  Payson's  uttering  some  ex- 
 pression of  surprise,  he  replied — "  I  have  not  a  very  slight  idea 
 of  tlie  pain  of  amputation ;  yet  I  have  no  doubt  that  I  suffer 
 more  every  fifteen  minutes,  than  I  should  in  having  my  leg 
 taken  off." 
 
 His  youngest  child,  about  a  year  old,  had  been  under  the  care 
 of  a  friend,  and  was  to  be  removed  a  few  miles  out  of  town  ; 
 but  he  expressed  so  strong  a  wish  to  see  Charles  first,  that  he 
 was  sent  for.  The  look  of  love,  and  tendernesss,  and  compas- 
 sion, with  which  he  regarded  the  child,  made  an  indelible  im- 
 pression on  all  present. 
 
 At  his  request,  some  of  the  choir,  belonging  to  the  congrega- 
 tion, came  a  few  days  before  his  death,  for  the  purpose  of  sing- 
 ing, for  his  gratification,  some  of  the  songs  of  Zion.  He 
 selected  the  one  commencing,  "  Rise,  my  soul,  and  stretch  thy 
 wings;"  part  of  the  hymn,  "I'll  praise  my  Maker  with  my 
 breath  ;"  and  the  "  Dying  Christian  to  his  Soul." 
 
 Sabbath  day,  October  21st,  his  last  agony  commenced.  This 
 holy  man,  who  had  habitually  said  of  his  racking  pains,  "These 
 are  God's  arrows,  but  they  are  all  sharpened  with  love"  —  and 
 who,  in  the  extremity  of  suffering,  had  been  accustomed  to  re- 
 peat, as  a  favorite  expression,  "I  will  bless  the  Lord  at  all  times, " 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 423 
 
 —  had  yet  the  "dying  strife"  to  encounter.  It  commenced  with 
 the  same  difficnhy  of  respiration,  though  in  an  aggravated  de- 
 gree, which  had  caused  him  great  distress  at  intervals,  during 
 his  sickness.  His  daughter,  who  had  gone  to  the  Sabbath  school, 
 without  any  apprehension  of  so  sudden  a  change,  was  called 
 home.  Though  laboring  for  breath,  and  with  a  rattling  in  the 
 throat  similar  to  that  which  immediately  precedes  dissolution,  he 
 smiled  upon  her,  kissed  her  affectionately,  and  said  —  "God  bless 
 you,  my  daughter!"  Several  of  the  church  were  soon  collected 
 at  his  bed  side;  he  smiled  on  them  all,  but  said  little,  as  his 
 power  of  utterance  had  nearly  failed.  Once  he  exclaimed, 
 "Peace!  peace!  Victory!  victory!"  He  looked  on  his  wife 
 and  children,  and  said,  almost  in  the  words  of  dying  Joseph  to 
 his  brethren  —  words  which  he  had  before  spoken  of  as  having 
 a  peculiar  sweetness,  and  which  he  now  wished  to  recall  to  her 
 mind —  "I  am  going,  but  God  will  surely  be  with  you.  "  His 
 friends  watched  him,  expecting  every  moment  to  see  him  expire, 
 till  near  noon,  when  his  distress  partially  left  him;  and  he  said 
 to  the  physician,  who  was  feeling  his  pulse,  that  he  found  he 
 was  not  to  be  released  yet;  and  though  he  had  suffered  the  pangs 
 of  death,  and  got  almost  within  the  gates  of  Paradise  —  yet,  if 
 it  was  God's  will  that  he  should  come  back  and  suffer  still  more, 
 he  was  resigned.  He  passed  through  a  similar  scene  in  the  af- 
 ternoon, and,  to  the  surprise  of  every  one,  was  again  relieved. 
 The  night  following,  he  suffered  less  than  he  had  the  two  pre- 
 ceding. Friday  night  had  been  one  of  inexpressible  snffering. 
 That,  and  the  last  night  of  his  pilgrimage,  were  the  only  nights 
 in  which  he  had  watchers.  The  friend  who  attended  him 
 through  his  last  night,  read  to  him,  at  his  request,  the  twelfth 
 chapter  of  the  second  epistle  to  the  Corinthians;  parts  of  which 
 must  have  been  peculiarly  applicable  to  his  case. 
 
 On  Monday  morning,  his  dying  agonies  returned  in  all  their 
 extremity.  For  three  hours,  every  breath  was  a  groan.  On 
 being  asked  if  his  sufferings  were  greater  than  on  the  preceding 
 Friday  night,  he  answered,  "Incomparably  greater."  He  said 
 that  the  greatest  temporal  blessing,  of  which  he  could  conceive, 
 would  be  one  breath  of  air.  Mrs.  Payson,  fearing,  from  the 
 expression  of  suffering  in  his  countenance,  that  he  was  in  mental 
 as  well  as  bodily  anguish,  questioned  him  on  the  subject.  With 
 extreme  difficulty  he  was  enabled  to  articulate  the  words,  "Faith 
 
424 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 and  patience  hold  out.  "  About  mid-day,  the  pain  of  respiration 
 abated,  and  a  partial  stupor  succeeded.  Still,  however,  he  con- 
 tinued intelligent,  and  evidently  able  to  recognize  all  who  were 
 present.  His  eyes  spoke,  after  his  tongue  became  motionless. 
 He  looked  on  Mrs.  Payson,  and  then  his  eye,  glancing  over  the 
 others  who  surrounded  his  bed,  rested  on  Edward,  his  eldest 
 son,  with  an  expression  which  said — and  which  was  interpreted 
 b}'-  all  present  to  say,  as  plainly  as  if  he  had  uttered  the  words 
 of  the  beloved  disciple — "Behold  thy  mother!"  There  was 
 no  visible  indication  of  the  return  of  his  sufferings.  He  gradu- 
 ally sunk  away,  till  about  the  going  down  of  the  sun,  when  his 
 happy  spirit  was  set  at  liberty. 
 
 His  "ruling  passion  was  strong  in  death."  His  love  for 
 preaching  was  as  invincible  as  that  of  the  miser  for  gold,  who 
 dies  grasping  his  treasure.  Dr.  Payson  directed  a  label  to  be 
 attached  to  his  breast,  with  the  words — "Remember the  words 
 which  I  spake  unto  you  while  I  was  yet  present  with  you;"  that 
 they  might  be  read  by  all  who  came  to  look  at  his  corpse,  and 
 by  which  he,  being  dead,  still  spake.  The  same  words,  at  the 
 request  of  his  people,  were  engraven  on  the  plate  of  the  coffin, 
 and  read  by  thousands  on  the  day  of  interment. 
 
 His  funeral  sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Charles  Jenkins, 
 pastor  of  the  Third  Church  in  Portland,  from  2  Timothy,  iv.  6, 
 7,  8  —  "I  am  now  ready  to  be  offered,  "  (fcc.  "The  gates  of  this 
 Zion  mourn,  "  said  Mr.  Jenkins,  in  his  introductory  paragraph  • 
 '  for  her  watchman  sleeps  in  death. '  He  has  'finished  his 
 course.'  His  voice  has  ceased  forever  to  echo  along  these  con- 
 secrated Avails.  We  beheld  him  descend  into  the  dark  valley, 
 shining  with  new  and  more  heavenly  lustre.  And  now,  com- 
 pletely and  forever  escaped  from  the  damps  and  darkness  of 
 earth  and  sin,  our  thoughts  delight  to  follow  him  amidst  the 
 glories  of  that  pure  world,  where,  'they  that  are  wise  shine  as 
 the  firmament,  and  they  that  turn  many  to  righteousness,  as  the 
 stars  for  ever  and  ever. '  We  have  stood  gazing  at  the  fiery 
 element  of  outward  suffering,  in  which  he  was  borne  away, 
 until  all  has  vanished;  but  we  love  to  linger,  that  we  may  catch 
 something  of  that  spirit,  that  made  him  'joyful  in  tribulation,' 
 and  triumphant  in  death.  The  living  image  of  his  now  uncon- 
 scious, but  beloved  form,  is  fondly  cherished  in  many  a  bosom  ; 
 while  purer  affections,  and  livelier  faith,  behold  him  wearing  a 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 425 
 
 crown  of  righteousness.  It  is  grateful  to  recur,  in  melancholy 
 recollections,  to  the  past,  and  hang  again  on  those  lips,  which 
 are  sealed  in  perpetual  silence.  More  grateful  still  is  it  to  glance 
 forward,  on  the  strong  pinions  of  hope,  to  a  future  meeting  and 
 an  eternal  union  with  him,  and  'the  spirits  of  the  just  made 
 perfect.  " 
 
 After  having  gone  through  with  the  discussion  of  his  subject, 
 Mr.  Jenkins  thus  reverted  to  the  occasion:  — 
 
 "  Such,  my  hearers,  are  the  nature,  the  objects,  and  the  grounds 
 of  the  dying  believer's  assurance.  They  are  topics  which  sort 
 with  the  spontaneous  reflections  of  every  serious  mind,  on  an 
 occasion  like  the  present.  They  are  topics  which  have  just 
 been  so  strikingly  exhibited  in  the  last  days  of  our  dear  departed 
 friend,  that  every  thing  I  have  attempted  to  ofler  has  appeared 
 to  rne  scarcely  other  than  the  accumulation  of  "words  without 
 knowledge. "  Had  he  not  interdicted  me  the  privilege,  I  would 
 gladly  have  let  his  death-bed  speak  in  this  illustration.  Instead 
 of  detaining  you  with  such  low  views  on  those  lofty  themes,  I 
 would  have  lifted  you  up  from  the  low  level  of  our  ordinary 
 thoughts,  by  repeating  some  of  those  "  burning  words  and  breath- 
 ing thoughts"  that  his  departed  soul  expressed.  And  even  now  I 
 may  not  be  denied  the  privilege  of  exalting  the  grace  of  God, 
 by  repeating  a  few  of  his  expressions,  indicating  the  nature, 
 objects,  and  grounds  of  assurance,  as  he  stood  on  the  borders  of 
 two  worlds.  " 
 
 *  *       #         *        *  *  * 
 
 "Surely,  he  who  could  utter  such  language  was  ready  to  be 
 offered  —  he  had  fought  a  good  fight;  he  had  finished  his  course 
 in  triumph,  and  now  wears  the  victor's  crown  of  righteousness. 
 His  '  witness  is  in  heaven;  his  record  is  on  high;'  and  there 
 his  eternal  weight  of  glory  is  begun. 
 
 "And  what  shall  I  say  more?  I  might  speak  of  his  gifted 
 intellect — I  might  dwell  on  its  wonderful  powers  of  combina- 
 tion ;  on  that  excursive  faculty,  which,  forever  glancing  from 
 earth  to  heaven,  and  from  heaven  to  earth,  could  gather  the 
 universe  around  him  in  aid  of  his  illustrations.  But  to  speak 
 on  these  points  becomes  not  this  solemn  occasion.  He  would 
 frown  on  the  attempt.  He  counted  all  these  '  loss  for  Christ.' 
 If  I  may  speak  of  his  character,  it  shall  be  that  character  which 
 
426 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 had  so  conspicuously  the  Christian  stamp.  In  this  respect,  grace 
 made  him  great.  It  wrought  a  deep  work  in  his  soul,  Tlie 
 predominant  features  of  his  whole  mind,  for  many  years,  were 
 high  spiritual  views,  and  deep  spiritual  feelings.  These  tinged, 
 or  rather  were  the  element  of,  his  thoughts  and  efforts.  His 
 natural  ardor  of  temperament  doubtless  affected,  not  a  little,  his 
 religious  exercises.  It  gave  them  violence  and  energy.  His 
 seasons  of  spiritual  elevation  were  heaven  brought  down  to 
 earth.  His  seasons  of  religious  depression  resembled  the  storms 
 of  autumn,  sudden,  dark,  threatening — leaving  a  serener  and 
 purer  sky,  but  betokening  that  winter  is  approaching.  He  was 
 pre-eminently  a  man  of  prayer.  There  was  in  his  prayers  a 
 copiousness,  a  fervor,  a  familiarity,  a  reaching  forth  of  the  soul 
 into  eternity,  that  was  almost  peculiar  to  himself;  and  that  told 
 every  hearer,  that  heaven  was  his  element,  and  prayer  his  breath, 
 and  life,  and  joy.  As  a  preacher,  it  is  easier  to  say  what  he 
 was  not,  than  what  he  was.  He  was  eloquent,  and  yet  no  one 
 could  describe  his  eloquence  to  the  apprehension  of  a  stranger. 
 It  consisted  in  an  assemblage  of  qualities  that  could  be  seen  and 
 felt,  but  not  described.  He  did  not  preach  himself.  His  subject 
 always  stood  between  himself  and  his  audience.  Ah!  I  will 
 not — I  cannot  enlarge.  Let  the  thousand  voices  of  those,  who 
 have  been  brought  to  the  knowledge  of  Christ  by  his  ministra- 
 tions, tell  what  he  was  as  a  preacher. 
 
  "  Shall  I  speak  of  his  loss  ?    To  this  religious  community 
 
 it  is  great.  Few,  at  his  period  of  life,  have  left  an  influence  op- 
 erating so  widely  and  usefully  on  the  moral  and  religious  con- 
 dition of  men.  That  influence  has  gone  very  far.  It  is  flying 
 and  will  long  be  flying  among  the  winged  messengers  of  sal- 
 vation. " 
 
 Having  followed  this  distinguished  servant  of  Jesus  from  the 
 commencement  to  the  termination  of  his  useful  career,  an  ex- 
 tended analysis  of  his  character  would  form  an  appropriate  con- 
 clusion to  the  book.  Such  an  analysis  was  contemplated,  but 
 is  precluded  by  the  unexpected  size  to  which  the  volume  has 
 already  grown.  The  omission  will  be  the  less  regretted,  as  its 
 place  is  supplied  by  a  fuller  development  of  facts,  from  Avhich 
 that  character  may  be  more  accurately  and  muiutely  known 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 427 
 
 By  drawing  attention  to  a  few  points,  however, — which  will  be 
 stated  with  as  much  brevity  as  possible,  —  some  erroneous  im- 
 pressions may  be  obviated,  and  the  benefit  of  a  large  class  of  rea- 
 ders consulted. 
 
 His  physical  conformation  was  of  a  very  delicate  structure, 
 extremely  sensitive  and  easily  excited,  ranking  him  beyond  all 
 question  with  the  genus  irritabile  vaiu^i.  His  constitutional 
 tendencies  were  strengthened,  and  his  sufferings  from  this  source 
 aggravated,  by  his  lamentable  imprudence,  in  venturing  on  a 
 course  of  severe  abstinence  and  protracted  mental  elforts,  under 
 which  his  nature  sunk.  Here  was  the  great  error  of  his  life. 
 To  censure  a  man  for  constitutional  infirmity  is  as  unjust  and 
 inhuman  as  to  censure  him  for  a  bodily  deformity,  which  he 
 had  no  agency  in  producing.  The  aggravation  of  natural  evils 
 by  voluntary  acts  is,  however,  a  just  subject  of  animadversion.* 
 
 *  It  is  not  easy  to  determine  how  far  a  man  is  accountable  in  a  case  like 
 this.  Tbere  is  a  general  propensity  to  pronounce  rash  and  cruel  judgment 
 upon  men  thus  atFected;  or,  what  is  worse,  to  treat  them  with  unfeeling  ridi- 
 cule. It  is  some  apology  lor  Dr.  Payson,  that  the  health  of  sedentary  men 
 had  not,  at  the  time  of  his  error,  become  the  subject  of  much  attention ;  his 
 was  in  part  the  sin  of  ignorance.  The  case  is  now  different.  Much  has 
 beed  said,  and  much  written  on  the  subject,  and  there  is  in  the  Christian 
 Spectator  lor  April,  1827,  an  essay  on  the  Influence  of  Nei-vous  Disorders 
 upon  Religious  Experience,  which  ought  to  be  read  in  connexion  with  this 
 Memoir. 
 
 In  an  earlier  number  of  the  same  work,  (April,  1826,)  is  an  article  On  the 
 Mutual  influence  of  the  Mind  and  Body, — an  inquiry  which  is  deserving  the 
 consideration  of  all  who  would  judge  rightly  of  the  phenomena  that  are 
 sometimes  witnessed  in  the  subjects  of  nervous  affections.  We  quote  a  few 
 sentences :  — 
 
 "  All  these  feelings  are  not  in  such  cases  strictly  moral,  nor  are  we  accoun- 
 table for  them,  except  as  we  are  accountable  for  inducing  that  state  of  phys- 
 ical organization  from  which  they  result.  They  are  the  offspring  of  a  diseased 
 mind,  and  cannot  be  shaken  off  whilst  the  physical  cause  remains.  Evei-y 
 physical  state  of  the  nei-vous  system  has  a  correspondent  state  of  mental 
 emotion ;  and  to  remove  the  latter,  the  former  must  be  changed.       *  * 
 
 "  But  although  physical  causes  have  so  extensive  and  important  an  influ- 
 ence upon  the  mind,  though  they  so  often  weaken  and  disorganize  its  powers, 
 yet  no  mental  diseases  are  so  little  understood  as  those  originating  in  a  phys- 
 ical cause ;  none  excite  so  little  sympathy,  none  are  more  real,  and  none  give 
 rise  to  more  exquisite  suffering.  The  unhappy  victim  is  perhaps  ridiculed, 
 or,  if  not  ridiculed,  passes  long  and  wretched  hours  in  the  miserable  world 
 presented  through  the  medium  of  a  diseased  mind,  till  death  sweeps  him  and 
 
428 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 Nervous  irritability,  with  its  consequent  depression,  was  an  in- 
 gredient in  Dr.  Payson's  nature,  and  would,  without  doubt,  have 
 been  equally  conspicuous,  and  vastly  more  disastrous  in  its  ef- 
 fects, had  he  lived  a  stranger  to  experimental  religion.  Though 
 he  suffered  inconceivably  in  his  own  person  from  this  cause,  yet 
 he  seemed  to  have  had  it  so  far  under  his  control,  that  it  seldom, 
 if  ever,  diminished  his  usefulness,  or  the  amount  of  his  active 
 services,  or  was  attended  with  ill  effects  in  relation  to  others.  He 
 was  not  incessantly  doling  out  his  complaints  into  the  ears  of 
 his  fellow-creatures ;  he  kept  them  chiefly  to  himself  He  was 
 too  wise  to  sue  for  sympathy  from  "  nerves  of  wire." 
 
 His  melancholy  never,  in  a  single  instance,  that  is  recollected, 
 brought  him  into  "  bondage  through  fear  of  death."  He  invari- 
 ably contemplated  an  exchange  of  worlds  with  complacency,  as 
 a  desirable  event,  "a  consummation  devoutly  to  be  wished." 
 
 As  rarely,  almost,  did  it  disqualify  him  for,  or  indispose  him  to 
 any  official  labor,  which  was  demanded  by  the  state  of  his  flock. 
 However  reduced  in  strength  or  depressed  in  feelings,  he  was 
 quick  to  hear,  and  prompt  to  obey,  all  pastoral  calls  ;  and  often 
 did  so  when  he  needed  to  be  in  his  bed,  and  under  the  care  of 
 the  nurse  or  physician. 
 
 It  never  rendered  him  unequal  to  the  most  sudden  and  trying 
 emergencies  of  life.  He  could  meet,  with  the  utmost  readiness, 
 any  demands  which  unexpected  and  distressing  events  made 
 upon  him.  In  the  alarm  of  a  conflagration,  when  confusion  of 
 mind  and  general  agitation  render  worse  than  useless  one  half 
 of  the  endeavors  which  are  made  to  stay  the  calamity,  and  res- 
 cue property  and  lives  from  destruction,  he  was  cool  and  collect- 
 ed, and  a  most  efficient  helper.  In  time  of  war  and  public  calamity, 
 his  mind  was,  if  ever,  kept  in  perfect  peace.  The  most  undis- 
 turbed composure  and  resignation  were  apparent  in  him,  when 
 the  objects  of  his  dearest  earthly  affections  were  languishing  and 
 undergoing  mortal  agonies  before  his  eyes;  the  same  was  true 
 when  tortures  like  those  of  the  rack  seized  and  convulsed  his 
 
 i 
 
 his  sorrows  to  the  land  of  forgetfulness ;  yet,  while  the  physical  cause  con- 
 tinues its  influence,  a  man  might  as  well  attemrt  to  heap  Pelion  on  Ossa,  as 
 to  remove  from  his  burdened  mind  the  pressure  of  distempei-ed  imaginations. 
 Let  those  testify,  upon  whom  Dyspepsy  has  laid  her  leaden  hand,  quenchijig 
 the  fire  of  feeling  and  imagination,  checking  the  flow  of  intellect,  and  haunt- 
 ing the  mind  with  spectral  appaiitions  of  unreal  evil " 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 429 
 
 own  frame.  He  has  been  known,  also,  to  walk  deliberately  up, 
 and  cut  the  cord  by  which  a  suicide  was  suspended,  when  oth- 
 ers, of  firm  nerves,  stood  gazing,  horror-stricken  at  the  spectacle. 
 That  it  was  originally  his  calamity,  and  not  his  crime,  is  fur- 
 ther evident  from  the  fact,  that  it  bore  upon  him  with  almost 
 insupportable  weight  at  some  times  when  faith  and  hope  co- 
 existed with  it.  In  all  his  private  writings,  no  expressions 
 have  been  found  indicative  of  a  more  keen  sense  of  suffering 
 from  this  cause,  than  some  which  he  penned,  when  his  hope  of 
 heaven  existed  to  a  degree  amounting  almost  to  assurance. 
 "This  oppressive  melancholy  cut  the  very  sinews  of  the  soul, 
 so  that  it  could  not  throw  off  the  load.  " 
 
 This  malady  may  be  regarded  as  having  reached  its  climax 
 during  his  first  essays  as  a  preacher.  There  had  been  causes 
 favoring  its  rapid  progress,  which  did  not  afterwards  exist.  And, 
 notwithstanding  the  greater  subsequent  prostration  of  his  health, 
 its  general  symptoms  wore  a  mitigated  aspect,  and  became  less 
 distressing  from  year  to  year.  Some  short  seasons  are  to  be 
 excepted  from  this  general  remark;  particularly  portions  of  the 
 year  or  two  next  preceding  that  in  which  he  died,  — when,  in 
 addition  to  his  extreme  weakness,  his  mind  was  agitated  by 
 questions  of  great  moment  to  the  general  interests  of  religion. 
 Though  his  light  was  obscured  by  a  temporary  cloud,  yet  was 
 his  path,  in  an  emphatic  sense,  like  the  rising  sun,  shining  more 
 and  more  unto  the  perfect  day.  Probably  there  was  not  a  day 
 during  the  last  six  months  of  his  life,  in  which  the  Sun  of  Righ- 
 teousness did  not  shine  upon  him  in  full-orbed  splendor. 
 
 As  there  are  "  laws  pertaining  to  the  union  of  mind  and  body 
 which  affect  them  in  common,"  it  is  a  matter  of  course,  that  the 
 disorders  of  his  physical  frame  should  modify,  in  some  degree, 
 the  exercises  of  his  mind  and  his  religious  affections.  Hence 
 we  have  seen  him  writing  bitter  things  against  himself,  for 
 causes  which,  with  a  different  temperament,  would  have  given 
 him  little  uneasiness.  We  have  seen  him,  at  times,  "  poring  so 
 closely  over  his  own  frame  of  mind,  as  scarcely  to  be  able  to 
 lift  up  his  eyes  to  the  cross;  or,  if  his  eyes  glanced  that  way, 
 they  were  so  diff"used  with  penitential  tears,  that  they  saw  but 
 dimly  the  merit  of  the  Saviour's  blood,  the  compassions  of  his 
 heart,  and  the  freeness  of  his  salvation."  At  one  stage  of  his 
 religious  progress,  he  seems  to  have  been  so  anxious  for  happy 
 
430 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 frames,  that,  without  being  conscious  of  it  at  the  tinae,  the 
 obtaining  of  such  frames  was,  perhaps,  the  immediate  end  of 
 his  offices  of  devotion ;  and  according  to  their  state  he  gradua- 
 ted his  hope.  As  those  were  joyful  or  gloomy,  this  was  eleva- 
 ted or  depressed.  This  error,  and  the  sore  chastisement  which 
 he  suffered  in  consequence,  he  in  his  last  days  held  forth  as  a 
 warning  to  a  near  relative,  whom  he  supposed  to  be  in  danger 
 of  a  similar  mistake. 
 
 His  religion  also,  in  his  own  view,  was,  for  a  time  at  least, 
 tinged  with  romance.  This  resulted  from  his  ardor  of  temper- 
 ament. "  By  religious  romance,"  he  once  said  in  conversation, 
 "  I  mean  the  indulgence  of  unwarranted  expectations;  expecta- 
 tions that  our  sins  are  to  be  subdued  at  once  in  some  uncommon 
 way,  or  by  some  uncommon  means  ;  just  as  a  man  would  expect 
 to  become  rich  by  drawing  a  prize  in  a  lottery,  or  in  some  other 
 hap-hazard  way.  We  cannot,  indeed,  expect  too  much,  if  we 
 regulate  our  expectations  by  the  word  of  God ;  but  we  may 
 expect  more  than  he  warrants  us  to  expect,  and  when  our 
 unwarranted  expectations  are  disappointed,  we  are  apt  to  sink 
 into  despondency.  Christians  whose  natural  feelings  are  strong 
 are  most  liable  to  run  into  this  error.  But  I  know  of  no  way  to 
 make  progress  in  holiness,  but  the  steady,  humble,  persever- 
 ing practice  of  meditation,  prayer,  watchfulness,  self-denial, 
 and  good  works.  If  we  use  these  means,  our  progress  is  cer- 
 tain." 
 
 None  of  these  defects,  however,  entered  so  deeply  into  the 
 character  of  his  religion  as  to  conceal  the  marks  of  its  genuine- 
 ness, or  scarcely  to  obscure  them.  The  features  which  pro- 
 claimed its  heavenly  origin  and  its  heavenly  tendency,  were 
 strongly  marked  and  abiding.  Almost  from  its  commencement, 
 we  have  seen  him  habitually  discriminating  between  "  the  real 
 and  the  imaginary,  the  scriptural  and  the  erroneous,  the  precious 
 and  the  vile,"  in  his  own  religious  emotions.  He  had  been  the 
 first  to  apply  to  them  the  only  infallible  test,  and  the  first  to 
 detect  and  abjure  whatever  did  not  sustain  the  trial  of  Scrip- 
 ture. We  see  him,  in  reference  to  his  own  exercises,  making 
 the  distinction  between  distress  of  mind  and  brokenness  of  heart, 
 and  between  other  affections  which  a  hypocrite  or  a  deluded  man 
 would  be  certain  to  confound. 
 
 Ardent  and  impassioned  as  was  his  religion,  it  is  nevertheless 
 
EDWARD    PA YSON. 
 
 431 
 
 a  noticeable  fact,  that  seldom,  if  ever,  did  an  expression  of  the 
 workings  of  the  heart  towards  the  Object  of  his  supreme  affec- 
 tions escape  him,  even  in  private,  which  was  suited  to  awaken 
 degrading  and  earthly  associations.  The  impression  must  be 
 deeply  imprinted  on  every  reader,  that  the  intercourse  which 
 he  maintained  with  God  was  a  holy  intercourse.  While  he  was 
 filled  with  the  highest  admiration  of  the  condescension  of  God, 
 and  talked  with  him  almost  with  the  same  familiarity  with 
 which  a  man  addresses  his  friend ;  it  was  still  with  the  pro- 
 foundest  reverence,  and  with  a  deep-seated  consciousness  of  the 
 distance  between  the  Creator  and  the  creature  —  a  characteristic 
 which  belongs  to  no  fanatic. 
 
 His  devotional  contemplations,  even  when  they  have  most  the 
 appearance  of  extravagance,  differ  widely  from  the  reveries  of 
 the  enthusiast.  He  is  no  where  seen  regarding  himself  as  the 
 only  creature  in  the  universe,  or  as  the  peculiar  favorite  of  hea- 
 ven ;  nor  exulting  in  the  thought  of  being  saved,  and  made 
 eternally  happy,  independently  of  the  medium  through  which 
 salvation  is  effected.  He  saw  and  felt,  that  there  were  interests 
 to  be  consulted  of  more  importance  to  the  universe  than  his 
 individual  happiness,  and  wished  to  be  saved  in  no  way  which 
 would  put  these  interests  in  jeopardy.  If  there  was  a  single 
 attribute  of  Jehovah,  Avhich  he  contemplated  with  more  exquis- 
 ite pleasure  than  any  other,  or  one  which  he  desired  above  all 
 to  imitate,  it  was  holiness.  And  seldom  did  his  thoughls  revert 
 to  this  perfection  without  an  earnest  prayer  that  his  fellow 
 creatures  might  become  holy.  If  there  was  ever  a  time  when 
 his  religion  might  be  mistaken  for  a  "  moping  sentimentalism," 
 or  a  "  monkish  religion,"  it  was  while  he  pursued  in  solitude 
 his  studies  preparatory  to  the  ministry ;  but,  even  then,  it  was 
 not  "  that  sickly  sensitiveness,  which  serves  only  to  divert  atten- 
 tion from  what  is  important  in  practical  virtue."  His  immedi- 
 ate relations  to  his  fellow-men  were  then  comparatively  few, 
 and  made  only  small  and  infrequent  demands  upon  his  time 
 and  attention,  and  sufficiently  accoimt  for  the  appearance  which 
 his  religion  then  assumed.  But,  even  at  that  time,  he  does  not 
 seem  to  have  been  deficient  in  relative  duty  ;  and  when  duties 
 of  this  class  were  greatly  multiplied,  he  was  a  pattern  of  fidel- 
 ity, punctuality,  and  perseverance.  His  practice  of  all  the 
 moral  virtues  was  so  exact  and  thorough,  that  the  bitterest 
 
432 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 enemy  was  unable  to  detect  any  delinquency.  And  with  a 
 heart  full  charged  with  benevolence,  he  was  ever  "  doing  good 
 to  all  men  as  he  had  opportunity,  especially  to  them  of  the 
 household  of  faith."  In  short,  if  the  existence  of  true  religion 
 is  to  be  known  by  its  practical  fruits,  we  know  not  the  man  who 
 could  sustain  a  closer  scrutiny  than  Dr.  Payson.  He  was 
 remarkably  free  from  one  class  of  indulgences,  to  which  his 
 constitution  and  often  infirmities  must  have  predisposed  him, 
 and  to  which  he  must  have  been  strongly  tempted  by  the  fash- 
 ions of  society,  when  the  use  of  stimulating  drinks  was  common 
 in  all  circles,  and  the  glass  was  tendered  almost  with  the  first 
 salutation.  But  he  kept  himself  pure.  This  and  similar  facts 
 show  very  strikingly  the  strength  of  religious  principle  in  his 
 soul,  and  how  nmch  he  owed  to  divine  grace. 
 
 The  faults  of  Dr.  Payson  were  of  a  kind  suited  to  make  an 
 impression  altogether  disproportionate  to  their  moral  obliquity. 
 To  a  stranger,  who  had  seen  him  but  once,  and  under  the  influ- 
 ence of  those  agitated  and  desponding  feelings  with  Avhich  he 
 left  the  conference  room,*  —  and  there  were  two  or  three  such 
 occurrences  in  the  course  of  his  life,  —  he  would,  probably,  have 
 appeared  rash,  petulant,  and  unreasonably  severe;  and  this 
 sudden  tide  of  disagreeable  feelings  would  have  been  taken  for 
 his  general  character.  A  stranger  would  not  know,  what  his 
 church  knew,  that,  by  the  time  he  had  reached  his  home,  he  had 
 assumed  to  himself  the  blame  which  he  had  charged  upon  them  ; 
 and  that,  the  first  opportunity,  he  would  meet  them  with  subdu- 
 ed feelings  and  the  humility  of  a  child.  A  transient  observer 
 would  not  have  seen  the  influence  of  this  step  on  the  church  ; 
 and  that  nothing  could  have  been  so  effectual  to  produce  relent- 
 ings  in  them,  and  bring  them  back  to  their  duty,  as  the  reflec- 
 tion tliat  they  had  so  deeply  grieved  the  heart  of  him  who  was 
 so  ready  to  spend  and  be  spent  for  their  salvation.  Mutual 
 confession  and  forgiveness  has  a  wonderful  eflfect  in  softening 
 the  heart,  and  preparing  it  for  the  reception  of  divine  influences ; 
 and  never  had  mere  man  a  more  exorable  and  forgiving  spirit 
 than  Dr.  Payson. 
 
 Of  the  truth  of  this  last  remark,  there  is  the  most  abundant 
 and  satisfactory  proof,  of  which  the  nature  of  the  case  will 
 
 *  Page  389. 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 433 
 
 admit.  He  did  not  pass  through  hfe  without  encountering  inju- 
 ries, which  were  aimed  at  his  dearest  and  tenderest  interests; 
 which  were  wounding  to  the  feelings,  and  would  have  exasper- 
 ated a  man  less  under  the  influence  of  a  Christian  temper  than 
 he.  Yet  not  the  remotest  trace  can  be  found  of  a  vindictive 
 spirit.  In  this  he  evidently  endeavored  to  copy  his  Divine 
 Model  throughout;  "who,  when  he  was  reviled,  reviled  not 
 again;  when  he  suffered,  threatened  not;  but  committed  himself 
 to  him  who  judgeth  righteously."  The  writer  has  been  curious 
 to  examine  his  closet-meditations  upon  the  wrongs  which  were 
 inflicted  upon  him,  and  to  learn  what  were  his  real  feelings  to- 
 wards those  from  whom  he  suffered  maltreatment  and  abuse. 
 For  this  purpose,  he  has  directed  his  attention  to  the  dates  of 
 such  as  occurred  within  his  own  knowledge,  and  with  tlie  circum- 
 stances of  vvhich  he  was  familiarly  acquainted.  The  result  is 
 most  honorable  to  the  departed  minister.  Of  some  no  trace  can 
 be  found  ;  they  are  buried  in  forgetfulness.  To  some  there  is 
 merely  an  allusion.  Where  a  notice  of  them  was  unavoidable, 
 the  fact  is  mentioned  or  insinuated ;  but  rarely,  indeed,  is  it 
 accompanied  with  reproach  or  censure.  The  comment  usually 
 i.s,  in  substance,  "  Retired,  and  prayed  for  him  who  had  done 
 the  injury."  Such  was  the  only  revenge  which  he  sought  of 
 the  mischievous  wag,  who  awaked  him  at  midnight,  with  a 
 forged  request  that  he  would  visit  a  woman  alleged  to  be  dying. 
 Even  those  injuries  which  were  aimed  at  his  reputation,  and 
 were  designed,  by  affecting  his  character,  to  weaken  his  influ- 
 ence, and  obstruct  his  usefulness,  and,  therefore,  incomparably 
 more  grievous  than  any  mere  personal  wrongs,  were  treated 
 with  no  greater  severity.  Careful  as  he  was  to  record  his  own 
 sins  and  failings,  and  severely  as  he  condemned  them,  the 
 instances  are  few  indeed,  in  which  he  passes  any  direct  censure 
 upon  a  fellow  creature.  Always  bold  and  faithful  to  rebuke 
 sin,  when  he  met  its  perpetrator  face  to  face,  he  was  equally 
 tender  towards  the  guilty,  in  circumstances  where  severity  could 
 do  nothing  towards  reclaiming  him.  The  sins  of  others  he  had 
 no  wish  to  perpetuate.  He  seeks  forgiveness  for  them  in  private 
 prayer,  and  spreads  over  them  a  mantle  broad  enough  to  "cover 
 a  multitude  of  sins."  How  deeply  learned  must  he  have  been 
 in  the  school  of  Christ,  thus  to  "  love  his  enemies,  to  bless  them 
 VOL.  I.  55 
 
434 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 that  cursed  him,  to  do  good  to  them  that  hated  him,  and  to  pray 
 for  them  who  despitefully  used  and  persecuted  him  !" 
 
 An  abhorrence  of  sin  cannot  have  failed  to  strike  every  read- 
 er as  a  prevailing  affection  of  Dr.  Payson's  heart.  It  is  Appar- 
 ent at  all  times  and  in  all  circumstances.  We  see  it  in  the 
 records  of  the  closet,  and  in  his  pulpit  addresses.  It  was  seen 
 by  those  who  met  him  in  social  intercourse,  whether  for  ordin- 
 ary purposes,  or  for  religious  inquiry  and  conference  :  and  es- 
 pecially by  those  who  heard  his  confessions  and  prayers  to  Him 
 Avho  halh  said,  "  0,  do  not  that  abominable  thing  which  I  hate!" 
 It  was  in  its  relation  to  God  and  his  law,  that  he  viewed  it,  and 
 learned  its  nature ;  and  not  merely  from  its  effects  on  the  well- 
 being  and  happiness  of  man.  The  guilt  and  pollution  of  sin 
 were,  beyond  expression,  hateful  to  him.  He  dreaded  its  cori- 
 tamination  more  than  death — more  than  he  did  the  gnawings 
 of  the  never-dying  worm.  Hell  itself  had  fewer  terrors  for 
 him  than  sin.  The  latter  was  his  torment  and  his  grief;  but 
 how  rarely  was  he  troubled  with  apprehensions  of  the  former  ! 
 That,  he  freely  acknowledged,  he  deserved ;  but  it  was  this, 
 which  filled  him  with  distress.  This  was  the  burden  of  his 
 private  lamentations ;  the  foe  to  God  and  man  which  he  depre- 
 cated, denounced,  and  abjured  in  public,  and  against  which  his 
 solemn  warnings  were  directed.  He  abhorred  it  for  its  guilt,  he 
 loathed  it  for  its  degradation,  more  than  he  dreaded  the  misery 
 which  it  entails.  It  was  the  "wormwood  and  the  gall,  which 
 his  soul  had  continually  in  remembrance,  and  was  humbled  in 
 him."  It  was  for  this  that  he  abhorred  himself,  repenting  in 
 dust  and  ashes.  On  account  of  sin,  he  daily  sorrowed  after  a 
 godly  sort:  —  and  "what  carefulness  it  wrought  in  him"  to 
 watch  against  its  approach  ;  to  foresee  and  resist  temptations ; 
 to  seek  strength  from  above,  that  he  might  be  preserved  from  fall- 
 ing ;  to  guard  every  thought,  and  word,  and  act,  lest  he  should 
 prejudice  his  Maker's  cause !  or,  to  express  the  emotion  in  his 
 own  language,  he  "  seemed  to  himself  to  be  walking  on  a  hair, 
 and  hardly  dared  to  go  to  his  meals,  lest  he  should  say  or  do 
 something  that  might  disgrace  the  ministry  or  hurt  the  cause  of 
 religion:"  —  "  what  clearing  of  himself"  from  all  consciousness 
 and  all  imputations  of  allowed  sin,  so  as  to  draw  forth  the  ac- 
 knowledgment from  the  most  abandoned,  that  he  was  a  man  of 
 
EDWARD    PAY  SON. 
 
 435 
 
 G  jd,  and  make  it  safe  for  him  to  lodge  the  appeal  in  the  con- 
 sciences of  his  flock,  "  Ye  are  witnesses,  and  God  also,  how 
 holily,  and  justly,  and  unblamably  I  have  behaved  myself 
 among  you  !"  —  "  what  indignation  "  against  himself  for  having 
 CA'^er  been  rebellious,  or  for  having,  after  he  became  a  willing 
 subject,  failed  to  glorify  God  in  all  things,  or  focfeited,  even  for 
 a  moment,  the  approbation  of  his  Master,  and  the  pleasures  of 
 a  good  conscience!  — "  what  fear"  of  repeating  the  transgres- 
 sion, preferring  rather  to  die  than  again  offend  his  God  and 
 wound  his  Redeemer  !  —  "  what  vehement  desire  "  to  be  wholly 
 delivered  from  the  power  and  contamination  of  sin,  his  soul 
 going  forth  in  ardent  longings  after  God,  or,  in  his  own  language, 
 "  filled  with  insatiable  desires  after  holiness  !"  —  "  what  zeal  " 
 in  his  conflict  with  this  perpetually  annoying  enemy  !  How 
 '•'  unfatigued  his  fervent  spirit  labored  !"  With  what  unsleeping 
 vigilance  and  skill  did  he  employ  the  "  weapons  of  the  holy 
 war,"  to  dislodge  the  foe  from  his  own  heart  and  the  hearts  of 
 others,  that  the  Saviour  might  be  enthroned  in  them,  and  sway 
 his  sceptre  over  them  ! 
 
 Another  precious  mark  of  the  genuineness  of  his  religion  was 
 his  bowing  with  entire  reverence  to  the  supreme  authority  of 
 divine  revelation.  This  was  strikingly  apparent  from  the  time 
 when  he  first  knew  its  value  by  experience,  by  his  making  it 
 his  almost  exclusive  study,  as  a  preparation  for  preaching,  and 
 by  his  daily  devotion  to  it  till  his  death.  He  had  no  favorite 
 dogma,  no  figment  of  the  imagination,  no  theoretical  specula- 
 tion or  practical  views,  which  he  was  not  ready  to  discard  at 
 once,  if  ihey  were  seen  to  clash  in  the  least  with  the  Scriptures 
 of  truth.  These  were  his  chart,  his  pole-star,  his  "  light 
 shining  in  a  dark  place,  to  which  he  did  well  to  take  heed."  He 
 opened  them  with  the  docility  of  a  child,  and  "  drank  in  the 
 sincere  milk  of  the  word  "  with  exquisite  relish.  To  him  they 
 were  "more  precious  than  gold,  sweeter  than  honey,  and  more 
 highly  prized  than  his  necessary  food."  And  in  this  love  and 
 reverence  for  the  Scriptures  may  be  seen  the  reason,  why,  con- 
 stituted as  he  was,  he  was  never  led  astray  by  the  pride  of  opin- 
 ion, never  drawn  into  ensnaring  errors  by  his  salient  imagination. 
 Every  thought,  sentiment,  fancy,  and  opinion  was  daily  correct- 
 ed by  the  word  of  God.  It  was  this  steadfast  adherence  to  his 
 Rule,  that  kept  him  in  "  the  good  and  right  way." 
 
436 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 The  last  mark  of  the  genuineness  of  his  religion  which  will 
 be  noticed,  is  his  perseverance.  Had  his  fervor  of  affection 
 abated,  and  left  him  in  a  state  of  apathy ;  had  he  let  down  his 
 watch,  suspended  his  efforts,  and  ceased  striving  to  reach  tlie 
 fulness  of  the  stature  of  a  perfect  man  in  Christ  Jesus,"  this 
 temporary  ardor  might  justly  have  brought  his  piety  under  sus- 
 picion, as  being  nothing  better  than  a  species  of  religious  wild- 
 fire. But,  as  it  has  been  well  remarked  by  a  late  writer, 
 "  Where  there  is  no  error  of  imagination  —  no  misjudging  of  re- 
 aUties  —  no  calculations  which  reason  condemns — there  is  no 
 enthusiasm,  even  though  the  soul  may  be  on  fire  with  the 
 velocity  of  its  movement  in  pursuit  of  it  chosen  object."  With 
 the  velocity  with  which  he  had  commenced  his  race,  he  con- 
 tinued to  move,  accelerated,  too,  by  the  momentum  which  he 
 had  acquired  in  his  progress.  His  religion  was  "  the  water 
 which  Christ  gives,  and  was  in  him  a  well  of  water,  springing 
 up  into  everlasting  life."  These  remarks  apply  to  his  perform- 
 ance of  particular  duties,  as  well  as  to  his  general  progress 
 One  of  his  own  precious  "gems  of  thought"  will  here  be  intro- 
 duced to  illustrate  the  principle  upon  Avhich  he  acted,  and  the 
 principle  which  kept  action  alive,  not  in  one  mode  only,  but  in 
 every  method  by  which  man  can  express  affection  for  the 
 Saviour :  — 
 
 "  It  has  been  frequently  wished  by  Christians,  that  there  were 
 some  rule  laid  down  in  the  Bible,  fixing  the  proportion  of  their 
 property  which  they  ought  to  contribute  to  religious  uses.  This 
 is  as  if  a  child  should  go  to  his  father,  and  say,  '  Father,  how 
 many  times  in  the  day  must  I  come  to  you  with  some  testimo- 
 nial of  my  love  ?  how  often  will  it  be  necessary  to  show  my  af- 
 fection for  you  7'  The  father  would,  of  course  reply,  '  .Tust  as 
 often  as  your  feelings  prompt  you,  my  child,  and  no  oftener.' 
 Just  so  Christ  says  to  his  people  :  '  Look  at  me,  and  see  what  I 
 have  done  and  suffered  for  you,  and  then  give  me  just  what 
 you  think  I  deserve.    I  do  not  wish  any  thing  forced.'  " 
 
 Here,  unquestionably,  is  the  measure  and  the  obligation  of 
 Christian  duty,  which  he  endeavored  to  keep  continually  in  his 
 own  eye.  He  loved  much,  for  much  had  been  forgiven  him. 
 He  daily  looked  to  Christ,  and  saw  continually  increasing  rea- 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 437 
 
 sons  for  increased  love,  zeal  and  duty.  His  religious  emotions 
 were  strengthened  by  constant  exercise,  and  the  utterance  of 
 them  in  the  presence  of  his  heavenly  Father.  The  constant 
 practice  of  duty  gave  him  increased  ability  for  duty.  He  con- 
 tinued his  approaches  to  the  throne  of  grace  through  all  the 
 changes  of  his  afflicted,  joyful  life.  If  any  man  on  earth  could 
 meet  the  challenge  —  "Will  he  always  call  upon  God  7" —  that 
 man  was  Edward  Payson.  And  the  "eternal  sunshine"  which 
 began  to  settle  on  his  soul  before  it  left  the  body,  is  evidence 
 that  he  was  heard  and  accepted. 
 
 The  grand  means,  by  which  he  reached  his  distinguished 
 eminence  in  piety,  and  "  persevered  therein  to  the  end,"  may  be 
 learned  from  what  has  already  been  disclosed.  Much  more, 
 however,  might  be  revealed  respecting  the  methods  which  he 
 employed  to  "  bring  every  thought  into  captivity  to  the  obedi- 
 ence of  Christ."  Circumstances  in  themselves  trifling  often 
 have  important  influence  on  the  character  ;  and  nothing  is  un- 
 worthy of  regard,  which  helps  to  prevent  our  hearts  from  wan- 
 dering from  God,  or  to  recall  them  when  they  stray,  or  to  keep 
 alive  the  sense  of  our  religious  obligations.  When  there  are  so 
 many  allurements  and  temptations  to  stray,  as  this  world  pre- 
 sents, addressed  to  hearts  so  vulnerable  and  so  easily  deceived, 
 it  is  well  to  have  a  monitor  in  every  object  we  behold  ;  to  make 
 inanimate  things  our  counsellors  ;  to 
 
 "  Find  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running  brooks. 
 Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  every  thing ;" 
 
 till  all  parts  of  creation  become  preachers  of  righteousness.  He 
 who  can  thus  habitually  associate  religious  considerations  with 
 the  "  things  that  are  seen,"  enjoys  a  rational  satisfaction  at  the 
 same  time  that  he  cultivates  a  spirit  of  devotion.  But  those 
 who  find  it  difficult  thus  to  read  the  book  of  nature,  may 
 derive  a  useful  hint  from  another  practice  of  Dr.  Payson.  On 
 the  waste  leaf  of  several  numbers  of  his  journal  are  maxims, 
 rules,  admonitions,  or  choice  sentiments,  which  appear  to  be 
 intended  to  remind  him,  every  time  he  should  take  up  the  voir 
 imie  to  make  an  entry,  of  some  obligation,  or  to  serve  as  a 
 stimulus  to  duty  in  some  one  of  his  important  relations.  The 
 value  of  such  mementos  is  incalculable,  and  within  the  reach 
 of  all.    It  may  be  useful  to  transcribe  a  specimen  :  — 
 
438 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "  Rutherford  remarks,  — '  I  have  set  apart  some  time,  morn- 
 ing, noon,  and  night,  for  prayer,  reading  the  Scriptures,  medi- 
 tation, &/C.  : 
 
 '  I  have  endeavored  to  mingle  thoughtis  on  serious  subjects 
 
 with  other  employments: 
 
 '  To  watch  against  wandering  thoughts  in  secret  prayer : 
 '  Never  to  murmur  that  I  did  not  enjoy  sensible  comfort  in 
 
 prayer : 
 
 '  To  spend  the  whole  of  the  Lord's  day  in  public  and  private 
 devotion : 
 
 '  To  avoid  all  idle  words,  and  thoughts,  and  sudden  passion : 
 '  Especially  to  avoid  sinning  against  light  in  the  most  trivial 
 
 affair,  as  nothing  has  a  more  powerful  tendency  to  harden  the 
 
 heart.'  " 
 
 "  An  eminent  saint,  now  in  heaven,  remarked  as  follows:  — 
 
 'Now,  at  the  close  of  life,  tny  conscience  reproaches  me,  for 
 not  doing  every  thing,  however  small,  with  a  view  to  the  divine 
 glory : 
 
 'That  I  have  not  been  more  careful  to  spend  time  profitably 
 in  company : 
 
 '  That  I  have  not  been  affected  with  the  distresses  of  others  : 
 '  That  I  have  not  been  duly  humbled  for  the  sins  of  my 
 youth.'  "  / 
 
 "  If  the  end  of  one  mercy  were  not  the  beginning  of  another, 
 we  were  undone." 
 
 The  following,  from  Flavel  and  Baxter,  were  for  his  consid- 
 eration as  a  minister  :  — 
 
 "  Jesus  was  a  tender-hearted  minister,  a  faithful  minister,  a 
 laborious,  painful  minister,  a  minister  who  delighted  in  the  suc- 
 cess of  his  ministry,  a  minister  who  lived  up  to  his  doctrine,  a 
 minister  who  maintained  communion  with  God." 
 
 "  I  have  long  observed,  that  though  ministers  use  words  and 
 arguments  ever  so  persuasive  and  convincing,  yet,  if  they  think 
 all  their  care  is  over  as  soon  as  the  sermon  is  delivered,  pretend- 
 mg  they  have  done  their  duty,  and  that  the  event  is  God's,  they 
 
EDWARD    PAY  SON. 
 
 439 
 
 seldom  prosper  in  their  labors ;  but  those  whose  heart  is  set  on 
 the  success  of  their  work,  who  earnestly  inquire  how  it 
 speeds,  and  who  follow  up  their  pubUc  labors  with  prayer 
 and  private  exhortation,  are  usually  blessed  and  owned  in  their 
 work." 
 
 He  had  still  another  class  of  maxims,  which  show  his  con- 
 scientious regard  to  "  whatsoever  things  are  lovely  and  of  good 
 report." 
 
 The  preceding  pages  contain  a  tolerably  complete — perhaps 
 too  complete — exhibition  of  Dr.  Payson's  religious  character. 
 It  has  been  found  a  very  serious  and  difficult  question,  how  far 
 it  is  justifiable  to  submit  to  the  inspection  of  good  and  bad,  in- 
 discriminately, the  records  of  one's  private  exercises,  which 
 were  not  intended  to  be  seen  out  of  the  closet.  As  religion  is 
 so  much  the  business  of  the  closet,  it  is  obvious,  that  no  man's 
 religious  character  can  be  fully  developed,  without  exhibiting 
 the  transactions  of  that  sacred  retreat.  Disclosures  of  this 
 class  have  been  highly  prized  by  the  Christian  community  gen- 
 erally ;  and  God  himself  seems  to  have  set  the  seal  of  his  ap- 
 probation upon  them,  by  rendering  them  the  frequent  occasion 
 of  exciting  and  cherishing  religious  affections.  These  consid- 
 erations have  done  much  to  quiet  the  misgivings,  which  were 
 occasionally  felt  on  exposing,  as  it  were,  to  the  public  gaze,  the 
 recesses  of  a  heart  so  deeply  and  variously  affected  as  was 
 that  of  the  subject  of  this  Memoir.  It  is  hoped,  however,  that 
 there  is  no  wanton  exposure.  The  author's  first  care  has  been 
 to  give  an  honest,  faithful  history  ;  and  he  is  not  aware  that  any 
 deductions  or  abatements  from  the  commendatory  part  need  to 
 be  made  on  the  ground  of  personal  friendship  or  partiality,  or 
 that  any  lack  of  censure  needs  to  be  supplied  for  similar  rea- 
 sons. Rather  has  he  feared  that  his  anxiety  to  copy  scriptural 
 models,  which  describe  the  faults  of  good  men  with  the  same 
 unshrinking  fidelity  that  they  embalm  their  virtues,  may  have 
 led  him  to  throw  too  much  of  shade  into  the  picture,  to  dwell 
 at  disproportionate  length  on  those  points  which  cannot  be  con- 
 templated without  sadness.  The  several  parts  of  the  work, 
 however,  will  be  found,  notwithstanding  their  apparently  mis- 
 cellaneous character,  to  have  an  intimate  relation  to  the  whole, 
 and  to,  reciprocally,  modify  and  explain  each  other. 
 
440 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 The  query  will  perhaps  arise,  Why,  if  Dr.  Payson  intended 
 his  diary  should  never  be  read,  did  he  not  destroy  it  previous  to 
 his  death?  His  procedure  in  regard  to  his  manuscript  sermons 
 suggests  a  possible  reason.  It  was  for  a  long  time  his  settled 
 purpose  never  to  allow  one  to  be  published ;  and,  after  it  be- 
 came certain  that  he  could  no  longer  use  them  in  public,  he  ac- 
 tually set  about  their  immolation.  They  were  reprieved  from 
 the  flames,  for  a  season,  at  the  almost, forcible  interposition  of 
 his  family.  As  the  time  of  his  departure  approached,  the  glories 
 of  heaven  and  the  value  of  the  soul  appeared  so  transcendent, 
 that  he  became  wholly  indifferent  to  literary  reputation  and 
 Avorldly  fame,  and  gave  his  consent  to  the  publication  of  a  por- 
 tion of  his  discourses,  if  it  should  be  thought  expedient,  or 
 would  be  beneficial  to  men.  He  was  now  perfectly  wiUing  to 
 become  "  a  fool  for  Christ's  sake."  A  similar  change  might 
 have  taken  place  in  regard  to  the  diary ;  though  it  is  more 
 probable  that  he  expected  it  would  never  be  read.  The  key  he 
 had  imparted  to  no  one  ;  and,  though  he  was  aware  that  it  had 
 been  partially  discovered — for  occasionally,  but  iinconsciously 
 to  himself,  a  word  in  his  alphabet  found  its  way  into  his  friend- 
 ly epistles,  and  its  import  was  determined  by  the  connexion,  and 
 then  the  sounds  or  letters,  which  the  characters  represented, 
 were  easily  ascertained  ;  yet  he  probably  thought  no  one  would 
 have  the  curiosity  or  patience  to  try  it  throughout,  especially  as 
 his  manner  of  applying  it  is  not  the  same  in  every  volume. 
 
 It  may  be  regarded  as  an  inexcusable  omission  not  to  glance 
 at  his  intellectual  qualities,  in  connexion  with  the  great  pur- 
 poses for  which  he  employed  them.  This  may  be  done  by  in- 
 troducing an  extract,  addressed  to  his  church  and  congregation 
 at  the  installation  of  his  successor,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Tyler,  by 
 President  Allen :  — 
 
 "  His  vigorous  intellect  could  grasp  high  subjects.  Nor  was 
 his  knowledge  limited  to  one  department.  It  had  a  wide  range, 
 as  his  curiosity  was  insatiable,  and  his  acquisitions  made  with 
 the  utmost  rapidity.  But  from  all  the  fields  of  science  he  brought 
 illustrations  of  the  great  principles  of  religion,  which  it  was  his 
 business  and  delight  to  communicate  to  his  fellow  men. 
 
 "  Among  the  valuable  qualities,  with  which  it  pleased  the 
 great  Author  of  his  mind  to  endow  him,  fancy  or  imagination 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 441 
 
 was  very  conspicuous,  and  very  important.  This  essence  of 
 the  poet  belonged  to  him  in  a  high  degree.  If  there  are,  among 
 preachers  of  the  gospel,  men  of  strong  intellect  and  close  argu- 
 ment, who  reason  with  great  force,  without  deriving  any  aid 
 from  the  imaginative  faculty  ;  yet  such  was  not  the  character- 
 istic of  his  preaching.  Nor  am  I  persuaded  that  the  highest 
 powers  of  reasoning  on  moral  subjects  can  be  separated  from 
 the  resources  of  a  well-stored  fancy.  In  mathematical  reason- 
 ing which  is  founded  wholly  on  definitions,  or  a  few  expressed 
 conceptions  or  notions,  the  process  is  indeed  to  be  carried  on,  as 
 the  smith  makes  a  chain,  by  adding  link  to  link.  The  argu- 
 ment is  uniform,  and  of  one  material.  There  is  no  place  for 
 illustrations  ;  no  opportunity  for  the  colorings  of  fancy. 
 
 "But if  we  reason  on  moral  subjects,  the  case  is  very  differ- 
 ent. We  do  not  set  out  with  clear,  unquestioned  definitions,  and 
 adequate  notions.  Our  very  conceptions  of  spiritual  truths 
 must  be  aided  by  means  of  the  objects  presented  to  our  senses. 
 The  imagination  must  assist  the  intellect.  Without  this  imagi- 
 native faculty,  this  power  of  comparing  different  objects,  of  per- 
 ceiving the  analogies  of  the  universe,  I  do  not  know  how  we 
 can  form  the  best  notions  of  the  divine  attributes;  and  sure  I 
 am,  that  without  this  faculty  we  are  ill  qualified  to  be  teachers 
 of  others,  and  must  be  very  deficient  in  the  power  of  rousing 
 the  sluggish  attention,  of  aiding  the  efforts  of  the  weak  intellect, 
 of  irradiating  the  cloudy  conception,  and  of  strengthening  the 
 vision  for  the  view  of  the  distant  and  the  obscure.  Our  Master 
 and  Teacher,  the  great  Author  and  Finisher  of  our  faith,  very 
 frequently  illustrated  spiritual  things  by  means  of  material  ob- 
 jects, and  has  shown  us  how  to  make  Nature,  as  she  should  be, 
 the  handmaid  of  Religion.  Dr.  Payson,  from  the  ample  store- 
 house of  his  fancy,  often  brought  forth  images  and  symbols, 
 enabling  him  to  exhibit  clearly  his  conceptions,  which  might 
 otherwise  have  been  unintelligible,  and  to  transport  his  hearers^ 
 as  it  were,  in  spite  of  themselves,  to  the  deep  and  never-opened 
 prison,  where  is  weeping,  wailing,  and  gnashing  of  teeth, — and 
 also  to  the  bright,  and  pure,  and  all-glorious  presence  of  God, 
 and  to  the  immediate  glance  of  that  all-piercing  eye,  from  which 
 iniquity  shrinketh  away  in  terror  and  horror. 
 
 "Other  elements  are  yet  to  be  considered  in  estimating  his 
 power  as  a  preacher.    It  was  not  merely  that  his  mind  was  ac- 
 
 voL.  I.  56 
 
442 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 tive  and  strong,  and  that  he  could  scatter  the  radiance  of  an 
 unequalled  lancy  over  the  abstrusest  conceptions,  and  mingle 
 delight  with  instruction.  In  addition  to  this,  his  power  as  a 
 preacher  was  the  power  of  his  own  deep-seated  conviction  of 
 the  infinite  importance  of  the  truths  which  he  communicated, 
 and  of  the  realities  of  the  invisible  world,  which  he  described; 
 —  the  power  of  ardent,  unquestioned  piety. 
 
 "His  eloquence  was  very  different  from  studied  oratory, 
 there  was  no  elegance  of  gesture,  and  no  display.  Yet  the  deep 
 tones  of  his  voice,  uttering  tremendous  warnings,  were  calculat- 
 ed to  startle  the  secure,  while  the  blessed  promises  of  the  gospel 
 came  from  his  lips  in  the  mild  and  gladdening  accents  of  one 
 whose  soul  rejoiced  in  God  his  Saviour." 
 
 Scarcely  an  individual  has  ever  been  heard  to  speak  of  Dr. 
 Payson's  intellectual  qualities,  who  did  not  fix  upon  imagination 
 as  the  predominant  characteristic  in  the  structure  of  his  mind; 
 and  it  is  often  referred  to  as  a  simple  faculty,  involving  the  ex- 
 ercise of  no  other  powers.  A  distinct  and  lively  perception  of 
 truths  and  objects,  a  power  of  comparison,  abstraction,  and  com- 
 bination, are  essential  constituents  of  this  faculty,  as  it  exists  in 
 the  poet;  and  such  was  it  in  him.  If  he  had  devoted  himself 
 to  the  Muses,  he  might  have  taken  a  high  rank  among  the  "sons 
 of  song."  As  it  was,  the  inspiration  of  poetry  pervades  his  mor- 
 al and  religious  discussions,  and  in  a  manner  altogether  as 
 agreeable,  and  far  more  useful,  than  if  it  were  presented  in 
 measured  lines.  His  imagination  was  under  the  control  of  judg- 
 ment, and  entirely  subservient  to  the  objects  he  had  in  view. 
 It  was  never  employed  to  excite  wonder,  but  always  to  convey 
 instruction.  Its  boldest  flights  disclose  a  very  exact  and  delicate 
 perception  of  the  relations  of  different  subjects;  and  his  selection 
 of  the  circumstances  for  comparison,  a  most  discriminating  judg- 
 ment.*   Of  all  the  ten  thousand  illustrations  of  moral  and  reli- 
 
 *  His  dreaming  imaginations  were,  sometimes  at  least,  as  regular  and  in- 
 structive as  tliose  which  were  formed  in  obedience  to  the  will :  — 
 
 "  Once  I  dreamed  of  being  transported  to  heaven,  and,  being  surprised  to 
 find  myself  so  calm  and  tranquil  in  the  midst  of  my  happiness,  inquired  the 
 cause.  The  reply  was — When  you  were  on  earth,  you  resembled  a  bottle 
 but  partly  filled  with  water,  which  was  agitated  by  the  least  motion ;  now 
 you  axe  like  the  same  bottle  filled  to  the  brim,  which  cannot  be  disturbed." 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 443 
 
 gious  truths,  with  which  this  faculty  suppHed  him,  scarcely  one 
 failed  of  being  a  type, —  I  had  almost  said,  a  perfect  type  or 
 representation  of  the  idea  or  impression  which  he  wished  to  con- 
 vey. It  brought  full  satisfaction  to  the  mind  of  the  hearer. 
 He  felt  that  he  knew  what  was  thus  taught  him. 
 
 Some  have  supposed,  that  he  employed  analogies  and  the 
 creations  of  fancy  as  the  means  of  investigating  truth  ;  that  is 
 — if  I  understand  their  meaning — that,  supposing  "  truth  to  lie 
 in  a  well,"  his  imagination  fitted  up  a  sort  of  machinery  to  draw 
 it  out.  But  this  is  a  mistake:  he  had,  like  others,  to  dive  or 
 dig  for  it.  He  had  early  imbibed  the  maxim,  "  There  is  no  royal 
 road  to  knowledge;"  and  felt  its  application  to  theology,  as  well 
 as  to  "geometry."  His  acquisitions  were  made  by  close  and 
 prayerful  investigation.  Too  much  has  been  ascribed  to  his 
 genius,  and  too  little  to  his  industry.  His  native  talents  were 
 indeed  of  a  high  order,  but  they  were  strengthened  by  cultiva- 
 tion and  exercise.  His  ardor  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  never 
 abated;  his  acquisitions  were  constantly  accumulating.  It  was 
 by  continually  extending  his  acquaintance  with  God's  world, 
 and  the  creatures  who  inhabit  it,  that  he  procured  the  materials 
 with  which  imagination  might  work.  The  conclusions  to  which 
 he  was  conducted  by  his  own  investigations,  the  conceptions 
 which  existed  in  his  own  mind,  he  did  often  communicate  to 
 others  by  analogies,  similitudes,  and  imagined  cases;  and  this, 
 it  is  conceived,  is  their  legitimate  use. 
 
 He  had  a  high  relish  for  literary  pursuits,  and  greatly  enjoy- 
 ed the  society  of  literary  men.  And  it  will  be  regarded  by  those 
 who  are  able  to  appreciate  it,  as  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
 instances  of  his  self-denial,  that  he  could  abandon  a  pleasure  of 
 which  he  was  so  highly  susceptible,  in  order  the  more  effectually 
 to  promote  the  salvation  of  his  species.  It  may  well  be  spoken 
 of  as  an  abandonment; — for  when  he  gave  himself  up  to  the 
 ministry,  he  ceased  to  cultivate  classical  literature  for  the  sake 
 of  fame,  or  for  his  own  individual  gratification  merely.  He 
 could  not  indulge  himself,  and  consume  his  time,  in  refined  in- 
 tellectual luxuries,  when  souls  were  perishing  around  him. 
 There  were  subjects  of  real  and  acknowledged  utility — subjects 
 of  deep  and  everlasting  interest — pursuits  immediately  connect- 
 ed with  the  immortal  destinies  of  men,  sufficient  to  employ  his 
 time,  and  task  his  best  powers.    To  learning  of  doubtful  utility, 
 
444 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 and  rare  application,  whether  recondite  or  elegant,  he  paid  little 
 attention.  He  estimated  the  probable  permanent  advantages  to 
 be  expected  from  different  pursuits,  by  the  balances  of  the  sanc- 
 tuary, and  resolutely  forsook  those,  however  consonant  to  his 
 inclinations,  "where  the  gains  will  not  pay  for  the  candle,  and 
 where  the  philosopher  and  the  scholar  threaten  to  swallow  up 
 the  divine. " 
 
 Yet,  in  the  legitimate  sense  of  the  term,  he  was  a  philosopher. 
 In  the  philosophy  of  that  department,  hi  which  he  shone  pre- 
 eminently, he  had  the  start  of  the  age.  He  anticipated  the  sub- 
 stantial improvements  in  the  manner  of  conducting  theological 
 researches,  which  our  theological  seminaries  have  done  so  nuich 
 to  introduce  and  extend.  His  discernment,  judgment  and  good 
 sense  are  strikingly  apparent  in  the  course  which  he  pursued  to 
 prepare  himself  for  the  pulpit.  Theology  he  regarded  as  a  divine 
 science;  and  he  sought  it  through  the  medium  of  that  divine 
 revelation,  which  has  been  communicated  to  the  world,  and  not 
 in  human  speculations.  He  studied  to  ascertain  those  bounda- 
 ries, which  separate  what  may  be  known  by  man,  from  that 
 which  must  forever  elude  his  research, —  unless  tiie  light  of  eter- 
 nity shall  reveal  it, —  and  he  never  overstepped  them.  He  stop- 
 ped at  ultimate  facts,  and  never  "intruded  into  those  things 
 which  are  not  convenient,"  and  of  which  the  sage  knows  as 
 little  as  the  child. 
 
 Those  whom  he  was  endeavoring  to  guide  to  heaven,  he  also 
 strove  to  keep  within  the  same  limits;  teaching  them  that  "se- 
 cret things  belong  to  the  Lord,  but  the  things  that  are  revealed, 
 to  them  and  their  children.  "  And  among  the  "things  that  are 
 revealed,"  he  distinguished  between  those  which  are  capable  of 
 receiving  elucidation  from  human  discussion,  and  those  that 
 mock  all  human  explanation,  and  with  respect  to  which  the 
 very  attempt  would  be  "darkening  counsel  by  words  without 
 knowledge."  There  was  no  doctrine  found  in  the  Bible,  which 
 he  hesitated  to  assert  and  defend;  but  he  guarded  against  resting 
 in  it  as  a  mere  speculation, — against  "holding  the  truth  in  un- 
 righteousness." His  great  aim  was  to  make  every  scriptural 
 theme  bear  with  force  upon  the  conscience, —  to  have  every  doc- 
 trine excite  its  correspondent  emotion,  and  every  precept  its 
 obligation.  If  his  success  is  not  an  adequate  recommendation 
 of  his  practice,  the  experience  of  the  church,  in  past  ages,  holds 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 445 
 
 out  an  affecting  warning  of  the  evils  of  a  contrary  course, 
 'Christianity,"  says  a  recent  writer,  "has,  in  some  short  periods 
 of  its  history,  been  entirely  dissociated  from  philosophical  modes 
 of  thought  and  expression;  and  assuredly  it  has  prospered  in 
 such  periods.  At  other  times,  it  has  scarcely  been  seen  at  all, 
 except  in  the  garb  of  metaphysical  discussion,  and  then  it  has 
 lost  all  its  vigor  and  glory." 
 
 It  has  been  supposed  by  some,  that  there  must  have  been  a 
 deplorable  leanness  in  his  discourses,  as  it  respects  the  essential 
 and  peculiar  doctrines  of  the  gospel.  This  suspicion  may  never 
 have  prevailed  extensively,  and  it  is  not  certainly  known  on 
 what  it  is  founded.  It  may  have  arisen  from  the  fact  that  such 
 multitudes  flocked  to  hear  him,  in  connexion  with  another  fact, 
 A'^iz.,  the  sinful  opposition  of  the  human  heart  to  the  humbling 
 doctrines  of  the  cross.  In  regard  to  some,  it  may  have  arisen 
 from  the  fact,  that  he  reasoned  without  the  parade  of  reason- 
 ing ;  that  he  argued  without  reducing  his  arguments  to  the  dry 
 bones  of  a  syllogism  ;  that  he  was  not  accustomed  to  assume  a 
 bold  and  startling  position,  and  then  declare,  in  due  form,  how 
 he  was  going  to  prove  it.  It  may  have  arisen  from  the  fact, 
 that  he  always  preached  so  as  to  be  understood,  and  left  no 
 room  for  the  inference,  that  he  must  be  a  deep  man  because 
 his  meaning  could  not  be  apprehended.  But  whether  the  sus- 
 picion be  owing  to  any  or  none  of  these  causes,  it  is  doubted 
 whether  it  has  any  better  foundation  to  rest  upon.  He  did  not 
 "  walk  in  craftiness,  nor  handle  the  word  of  God  deceitfully." 
 He  could  have  concealed  nothing  from  design,  which  it  Avas 
 obligatory  on  him  to  declare ;  for  this  would  be  contrary  to  his 
 whole  character.  Friends  and  foes  alike  gave  him  credit  for 
 honesty  and  plain  dealing.  It  could  not  be  for  want  of  cour- 
 age ;  for  he  feared  not  the  face  of  flesh  ;  and  some  of  the  prac- 
 tical discourses  which  he  delivered,  it  required  tenfold  more  of 
 moral  heroism  to  pronounce,  than  it  would  the  most  otTensive 
 doctrines.  Sinners  might  sit  and  hear  the  doctrines  of  election 
 and  reprobation  defended,  and  not  feel  half  the  opposition  of 
 heart,  which  would  be  drawn  forth  by  Dr.  Payson's  practical 
 sermons,  particularly  such  a  sermon  as  that  in  which  fraud  is 
 exposed  and  condemned ;  and  other  evil  practices  did  not  re- 
 ceive a  whit  more  indulgence  from  him. 
 
 Others,  again,  who  were  at  a  loss  to  account,  on  satisfactory 
 
44& 
 
 MEMOIR  Oy 
 
 principles,  for  the  attraction  which  drew  and  bound  so  many  to 
 him,  have  ascribed  his  influence  to  different  causes ;  as,  an  artful 
 and  impassioned  oratory,  a  talent  for  amusing  an  audience,  and 
 even  to  rant !  No  flattering  compliment,  to  be  sure,  to  his 
 hearers ;  but  it  should  be  stated,  by  way  of  apology  for  these 
 surmises,  that  their  authors  lived  at  a  distance,  and  did  not 
 know  him.  A  little  knowledge  of  human  nature  might  have 
 been  sufficient  to  correct  such  an  error.  No  man,  by  such 
 means,  could  have  sustained  a  growing  reputation,  in  the  same 
 place,  for  a  period  of  twenty  years,  receiving  continual  acces- 
 sions to  his  flock,  which  included  a  fair  proportion  of  profess- 
 ional characters,  and  men  of  cultivated  minds.  There  was,  it 
 is  true,  always  something  in  his  discourses  to  delight  the  mind, 
 even  when  his  language  was  the  vehicle  of  unwelcome  truths ; 
 but  he  never  uttered  any  thing  from  the  pulpit  with  the  view 
 to  amuse.    Never  did  he 
 
 "  Court  a  grin,  when  he  should  woo  a  soul." 
 
 There  was  nothing  of  stage  eflect  either  in  Dr.  Payson's  person- 
 al appearance  or  in  his  eloquence— no  imposing  attitudes  or 
 gestures — no  extremes  of  intonation — no  afliectation  of  tears. 
 It  was  simple  nature,  sanctified  by  grace,  uttering  the  deep  con- 
 victions of  the  heart,  and  pleading  with  fellow  sinners  to  become 
 reconciled  to  God.  It  was  the  eloquence  of  truth  spoken  in 
 love.  The  words  seemed  to  come  from  his  mouth  encompassed 
 by  that  glowing  atmosphere  in  which  they  left  the  heart,  and 
 to  brand  their  very  impression  in  every  heart  on  which  they 
 fell. 
 
 On  account  of  the  rapid  increase  of  his  church,  some  have 
 imagined  that  he  must  have  admitted  persons  of  dubious  piety. 
 A  venerable  minister  in  another  state  once  sent  him  a  message 
 —  and  by  a  member  of  his  church  too — "not  to  make  Chris- 
 tians too  fast."  To  say  nothing  of  the  brotherly  kindness  of 
 such  an  insinuation,  conveyed  by  such  a  messenger,  it  may  be 
 doubted  whether  that  good  man's  successor  did  not  find  as  much 
 "  wood,  hay,  and  stubble,"  in  the  superstructure  of  his  own 
 erecting — as  much  at  least  in  proportion  to  its  dimensions— as 
 did  Dr.  Payson's.  And  yet  he  Avas  a  man  of  known  and 
 acknowledged  fidelity.    What  church  does  not  receive  and  retain 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 447 
 
 hypocrites  7  If  such  characters  found  their  way  into  Dr.  Pay- 
 son's  church,  his  skirts  are  clear  of  their  blood  ;  he  aimed  to  do 
 his  duty  faithfully,  and  no  minister  was  ever  more  attentive  to 
 church  discipline.  Facts,  which  have  appeared  so  wo^iderful, 
 and  have  been  accounted  for  in  so  many  conjectural  ways,  will 
 not,  perhaps,  appear  surprising,  when  his  private  devotions  and 
 public  labors  become  more  extensively  known.  Perhaps  it  will 
 be  felt,  that  the  means  which  he  employed,  and  which  God 
 blessed,  bore  as  full  a  proportion  to. their  results  as  in  other  ordi- 
 nary cases. 
 
 It  has  been  supposed,  too,  that  his  person  and  peculiar  men- 
 tal characteristics  were  the  bond  of  union,  which  kept  his 
 church  and  parish  together,  and  that  when  he  should  be  remo- 
 ved, the  massive  body  would  fall  to  pieces.  This  expectation 
 has  shared  the  same  fate  as  many  predictions  of  which  Dr.  Pay- 
 son  or  his  people  were  the  subject.  During  the  whole  trying  pe- 
 riod in  which  they  were  without  a  pastor,  their  integrity  was 
 almost  unexampled.  Not  a  single  defection  took  place  ;  proving 
 that  it  was  not  his  person  only,  but  the  influence  of  his  doctrines, 
 which  united  them  as  one. 
 
 The  truth  is,  no  man  ever  gained  a  reputation  as  a  preacher 
 more  fairly  than  Dr.  Payson  ;  few  men  ever  earned — if  the 
 expression  is  allowable — more  success.  We  have  no  need  to 
 call  in  the  aid  of  magic,  to  account  for  the  amazing  influence 
 which  he  exerted  as  a  minister  of  Christ.  This  is  best  done  by 
 the  simple  history  of  the  man — by  a  familiar  acquaintance  with 
 what  he  was,  and  what  he  did.  The  foundation  of  his  emi- 
 nence, and  of  his  influence,  was  laid  in  a  deep,  experimental 
 knowledge  of  those  spiritual  subjects  which  constituted  the 
 themes  of  his  addresses  to  his  fellow-men.  This  quality  of  a 
 religious  teacher  has  been  well  presented,  and  its  influence 
 illustrated,  by  a  reviewer  of  his  sermons  in  the  Christian  Spec- 
 tator.   Speaking  of  Dr.  Payson,  he  remarks : — 
 
 "  Like  the  beloved  apostle,  whom  he  somewhat  resembled  in 
 the  strength  of  his  imagination,  and  in  the  afl!ections  of  his 
 heart,  he  speaks  as  if  from  actual  observation.  In  perusmg 
 these  sermons,  it  seems  as  if  their  author  had  actually  seen  with 
 his  own  eyes  the  spiritual  objects  he  describes,  —  that  he  had 
 actually  heard  from  Christ,  talking  with  him  face  to  face,  the 
 
448 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 truths  which  he  declares.  The  man  who  has  thus  seen  spirit- 
 ual objects  with  the  clear  eye  of  faith,  is  acquainted  with  them 
 in  their  minutest  parts,  and  can  therefore  communicate  instruc- 
 tion respecting  them  with  a  familiarity,  clearness,  and  impres- 
 sive interest,  which  we  in  vain  look  for  in  any  other.  He 
 not  only  can  present  a  general  outline,  but  he  can  fill  up 
 the  picture  with  what  his  own  eyes  have  seen.  When  he  men- 
 tions faith  and  repentance,  he  speaks  as  one  who  has  looked 
 upon  the  very  objects  towards  which  these  graces  are  directed  ; 
 and  he  is  therefore  able  to  make  others  see  the  same  objects 
 likewise,  and  to  feel  as  he  has  himself  felt  towards  them.  When 
 he  speaks  of  God,  he  speaks  as  if  he  had  walked  with  him, 
 and  knew  him  intimately.  When  he  describes  the  character  of 
 Christ,  he  describes  it  as  if  he  had  followed  him  closely,  and 
 knew  exactly  how  he  walked.  He  speaks  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
 as  if  he  had  felt  his  power  upon  his  own  soul,  in  his  convincing 
 and  sanctifying  influences.  He  speaks  of  hell,  as  if  he  himself 
 had  looked  with  agonizing  fears  through  all  its  gloomy  caverns. 
 He  speaks  of  heaven,  as  if  he  had,  like  Paul,  been  transported 
 to  the  third  heavens,  and  heard  unspeakable  Avords.  There  are 
 many  passages  in  his  sermons,  in  which  his  vision  of  heaven 
 seems  to  be  nearly  as  distinct  as  that  which  he  enjoyed  just 
 before  his  death,  as  described  in  a  letter  to  his  sister. 
 
 "  The  man  who  has  had  such  visions  of  heaven,  will  speak 
 of  eternal  realities  with  a  truth  that  others  will  strive  in  vain  to 
 imitate;  and  he  will  be  listened  to  with  the  same  deep  feeling 
 which  the  words  of  one  would  create,  who  had  actually  risen 
 from  the  grave,  and  come  back  to  his  brethren  of  the  human 
 family,  to  give  them  an  account  of  the  secrets  of  the  invisible 
 world." 
 
 His  topics  embraced  the  whole  range  of  scriptural  subjects. 
 He  had  no  hackneyed  theme,  no  wearisome  monotonousness  of 
 manner  in  treating  it.  Those  subjects,  for  the  recurrence  of 
 which  there  was  the  most  frequent  occasion — such,  for  instance, 
 as  relate  to  the  Saviour's  death,  Avhich  was  commemorated 
 monthly  by  his  church  —  never  lost  any  of  their  interest  under 
 his  treatment ;  but  were  made  to  awaken  a  new  train  of  thought 
 and  reflection,  or  were  presented  in  some  new  relation.  Christ 
 
EDWARD  PAYSON. 
 
 crucified  was,  indeed,  an  exhaustless  theme.  It  was  the  "  life 
 of  all  his  preaching.  He  every  where  gives  most  exalted  views 
 of  Christ,  beholding  and  declaring  him  as  'God  manifested  in 
 the  flesh,'  and  invested  with  all  the  prerogatives  and  glories  of 
 Mediatorship.  He  sought  continually  to  bring  Christ  before 
 the  eyes  of  sinners,  for  whom  he  had  suffered,  bled,  and  died. 
 Christ  was  the  sun  of  his  system;  he  referred  every  thing  to 
 him,  and  showed  all  truth,  duty,  hope,  privilege,  and  happiness, 
 as  related  to  him.  In  a  word,  as  Christ  was  every  thing  to  his 
 feelings,  as  a  humble  truster  in  his  mercy,  so  he  was  every  thing 
 in  the  instructions  which  he  irhparted,  as  his  minister.  He  had 
 none  of  that  affected  scrupulousness  of  an  erroneous  conscience, 
 which  professes  to  shrink  from  giving  to  Christ  'the  glory  due 
 unto  his  name.'  Him,  as  'without  controversy'  the  'brightness 
 of  the  Father's  glory,  the  express  image  of  his  person,'  and 
 who  is  'over  all,  God,  blessed  for  ever,'  he  loved  to  worship, 
 honor,  preach,  and  show  to  dying  men,  as  the  'confidence  of  all 
 the  ends  of  the  earth.'  "* 
 
 Dr.  Payson  was  a  preacher  whom  none  could  hear  with  in- 
 difference. His  discrimination  of  characters,  and  adaptation  of 
 truth  to  the  different  classes  of  hearers ;  his  skill  in  guiding  the 
 sword  of  the  Spirit  so  as  to  pierce  the  consciences  of  the  impeni- 
 tent, rendered  it  impossible  for  them  to  hear  him  unmoved. 
 "  He  showed  an  intimacy  in  the  secret  chambers  of  the  human 
 heart,  such  as  is  gained  only  by  much  self-acquaintance,  and 
 accurate  observation  of  men ;  analyzed  the  operations  of  the 
 unsanctified  will  and  affections  with  peculiar  skill ;  told  the 
 sinner,  with  startling  particularity,  of  things  that  passed  in  his 
 breast:  followed  him  into  his  hiding  places,  to  allure  and  warn 
 him  away ;  stated,  with  unshrinking  faithfulness,  humbling 
 facts  respecting  his  motives  of  action  ;  described  his  errors  and 
 self-deceptions  with  a  fairness  and  exactness  which  could  not 
 easily  be  disputed  ;  showed  the  hazards  of  his  unscriptural  de- 
 pendences ;  and,  in  the  full  blaze  of  Scripture  light,  set  forth  all 
 the  dangers  and  guilt  of  self-delusion."  *  If  they  went  away 
 from  the  sanctuary  "  filled  with  wrath,"  and  determined  to  heai 
 him  no  more,  the  resolution  was  but  a  thread  of  tow  amidst 
 the  fires  of  conscience. 
 
 VOL.  I. 
 
 *  Spirit  of  the  Pilgrims. 
 67 
 
450 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 "  The  preaching  of  Dr.  Payson  was  well  adapted  to  '  feed  the 
 church  of  God,'  and  to  promote  the  advancement  of  Christians 
 in  the  divine  life.  With  him  this  was  an  object  of  more  than 
 common  thought  and  labor.  Banyan's  character  of  Great 
 Heart  exhibits  the  qualifications  of  the  spiritual  Shepherd  in 
 an  interesting  manner,  and  many  of  the  features  of  it  were  dis- 
 cernible in  the  discourses  of  Dr.  Payson.  To  elevate  and  en- 
 liven the  faith  of  Christians,  to  increase  the  fervor  of  their  love, 
 to  assist  them  to  obtain  and  keep  lowly  views  of  themselves,  to 
 promote  the  tenderness  of  godly  sorrow,  and  likewise  to  ani- 
 mate their  joys,  confirm  their  hopes,  promote  the  increase  and 
 steadiness  of  their  comforts,  and  to  incite  them  to  press  forward 
 and  mount  upward  in  their  preparation  for  heaven,  were  the 
 objects  of  much  of  his  preaching.  He  sought  to  promote  in 
 Christians  the  progress  and  enjoyments  of  holiness  in  heart  and 
 life.  He  loved  to  witness  Christian  activity  and  faithfulness, 
 and  preached  a  religion  to  be  lived,  and  which  would  make  its 
 possessors  t»  shine  as  lights  in  the  world.  He  had  his  heart 
 fixed  on  the  promotion,  in  himself  and  others,  of  holiness,  ele- 
 vated, dwelling  in  daily  communion  with  God,  and  made  active 
 in  view  of  the  cross  of  Christ,  of  the  judgment  to  come,  and  of 
 the  prospect  of  heaven.  And  his  conceptions  of  the  obligations 
 resting  on  the  people  of  God  to  live  in  the  exercise  of  such  ho- 
 liness, were  vivid  and  solemn.  The  views  he  was  accustomed 
 to  give  of  Christian  character  were  not  of  that  well  adjusted 
 '  form  of  godliness,'  in  which  '  a  name  to  live  '  may  be  preserv- 
 ed ;  but  he  exhibited  the  Christian  of  the  Bible,  loving  holiness 
 and  seeking  it,  hating  sin  and  flying  from  it ;  he  brought  out 
 the  elements  of  grace,  as  to  be  manifested  in  living  and  active 
 faithfulness."  * 
 
 He  was  distinguished  for  his  "  entire  devotedness  to  the  spir- 
 itual welfare  of  his  hearers.  He  might  have  had  a  practical 
 acquaintance  with  the  truths  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  skill 
 in  selecting  those  truths  that  are  adapted  to  the  character  of  his 
 hearers,  and  a  powerful  imagination  in  presenting  those  truths 
 in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  an  impression  ;  still,  without  this 
 devotedness  of  feeling  to  the  spiritual  v/elfare  of  his  hearers,  he 
 never  could  have  exerted  that  moral  power  upon  their  miuds, 
 
 *  Spirit  of  the  Pilgrims. 
 
EDWARD     PA YSON. 
 
 451 
 
 which  attended  his  ministrations.  It  has  ever  been  true,  that 
 those  who  have  distinguished  themselves  on  the  broad  theatre 
 of  human  exertion,  in  arts,  in  arms,  in  science,  and  in  moral 
 enterprise,  have  likewise  been  distinguished  for  the  enthusiasm 
 with  which  they  have  followed  the  object  of  their  pursuit. 
 Such  a  state  of  mind  quickens  the  intellect ;  for  it  has  almost 
 passed  into  a  maxirn  with  the  masters  of  mental  science,  that  the 
 conceptions  are  vivid  in  proportion  to  the  excitement  of  the 
 feelings.  It  moreover  renders  the  mind  ingenious  in  discover- 
 ing and  creating  means  for  the  accomplishment  of  the  object ; 
 '  Love  will  find  a  way ;'  and  it  likewise  prompts  to  persever- 
 ance in  the  application  of  these  means.  His  sermons  were 
 prepared  under  the  influence  of  an  intense  desire  to  be  instru- 
 mental in  leading  his  people  to  the  cross  of  Christ  for  salvation. 
 To  accomplish  this,  all  the  faculties  of  his  soul  were  concentrat- 
 ed ;  when  he  knelt  at  the  mercy-seat,  his  people  were  earnestly 
 commended  to  God ;  when  he  looked  abroad  on  nature,  that 
 other  book  of  God's  revelation,  he  was  always  in  search  of  mo- 
 tives to  duty;  when  he  was  engaged  in  severe  study,  or  iu 
 reading  books  of  taste,  he  was  still  aiming,  either  directly  or 
 indirectly,  at  promoting  the  spiritual  welfare  of  his  people, 
 that  'by  any  means  he  might  win  some.'  Every  thing  was 
 subservient  to  this  object.  Having  a  full  heart  and  a  full  mind, 
 persuasion  dwelt  upon  his  lips.  He  felt  emotion,  and  therefore 
 expressed  it.  His  heart  is  always  awake.  His  zeal  for  the 
 house  of  God  glowed  in  his  breast  like  a  consuming  passion  ;  it 
 wasted  the  powers  of  life."  * 
 
 That  his  mode  of  exhibiting  the  truths  of  the  gospel  was 
 pre-eminently  felicitous,  we  have  one  very  pleasing  proof  in  the 
 tenacity  with  which  his  instructions  are  remembered,  f  This 
 testimony  to  the  completeness  of  his  qualifications,  "  as  a 
 workman  that  needed  not  to  be  ashamed,  rightly  dividing  the 
 word  of  truth,"  still  exists  in  hundreds  of  hearts.    "  His  word.s 
 
 *  Christian  Spectator. 
 
 t  The  editor  of  his  posthtimous  sermons,  during  the  progress  of  the  vol- 
 ume, in  answering  inquiries  respecting  them,  was  fi-equently  interrupted 
 with  —  "I  hope  such  a  sermon  will  be  one"  —  the  subject  being  named  at 
 the  same  time.  This  wish  was  heard,  not  from  the  inhabitants  of  Portland 
 only,  but  from  others,  who  had  changed  this  residence  for  another,  from  five 
 to  fifteen  years  before. 
 
452 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 were  as  nails  fastened  in  a  sure  place,  leaving  stings  in  the 
 mind,  and  bidding  defiance  even  to  a  bad  memory  to  forget." 
 A  specimen  of  his  pulpit  discourses  is  before  the  public,  and 
 will  speak  their  own  defence.  That  they  want  much,  which 
 gave  them  interest  and  effect  in  the  delivery,  is  known  by  all 
 who  knew  him.  A  ministering  brother,  at  a  distance,  after  he 
 had  read  the  volume,  thus  wrote — "That  speaking  eye,  and 
 thrilling  tone,  and  those  flashes  of  holy  fire,  and  that  counte- 
 nance, which  at  times  seemed  more  than  mortal,  I  do  not 
 indeed  find.  Probably  most  of  those  glowing  illustrations  and 
 irresistible  appeals  were  made,  even  when  he  had  a  written  dis- 
 course before  him,  from  the  inspiration  of  the  moment.  Still 
 there  is  so  much  of  the  original  in  these  pieces,  that  the  linea- 
 ments of  his  celestial  soul  can  be  easily  traced.  His  eloquence 
 was,  in  the  language  of  Milton,  "  the  serious  and  hearty  love 
 of  truth  ;  his  mind  fully  possessed  with  a  fervent  desire  to  know 
 good  things,  and  with  the  dearest  charity  to  infuse  the  knowl- 
 edge of  them  into  others.  When  such  a  man  would  speak,  his 
 words,  like  so  many  nimble  and  airy  servitors,  trip  about  him 
 at  command,  and  in  well-ordered  files,  as  he  would  wish,  fall 
 aptly  into  their  own  places." 
 
 The  amount  of  service  which  he  was  enabled  to  perform  is 
 not  the  least  surprising  fact  in  his  history.  Almost  continually 
 sinking  under  the  exhausting  effects  of  a  diseased  and  debilita- 
 ted frame,  he  was,  nevertheless,  "in  labors  more  abundant" 
 than  most  who  have  no  such  infirmities  to  depress  them.  That 
 he  ventured  beyond  his  strength,  and  often  exceeded  the  bounds 
 of  prudence  and  duty,  is  very  true ;  but  it  was,  on  the  whole,  a  wise 
 and  happy  arrangement  of  Providence,  which  assigned  him  his 
 station  where  the  calls  to  exertion  were  frequent  and  urgent.  The 
 regret  which  it  is  impossible  not  to  feel  at  his  premature  depar- 
 ture, hastened  as  it  was  by  his  incessant  toils,  mental  and 
 bodily,  in  his  Master's  cause,  is  alleviated  by  the  reflection, 
 that,  with  his  constitution  and  susceptibilities,  a  moderate  de- 
 gree of  exertion  was  incompatible.  Beyond  all  doubt,  his  life, 
 if  passed  in  a  state  of  comparative  inaction,  would  have  much 
 sooner  terminated  :  his  sun  might  have  set  in  darkness,  and  the 
 remembrance  of  him  perished  from  the  earth.  But  God  had 
 "provided  better  things  for  him,"  and  his  memory  is  blessed. 
 
 That  he  had  preached  the  gospel  fully  and  faithfully,  not 
 
EDWAKD    PA  YSON. 
 
 453 
 
 shunning  to  declare  the  whole  counsel  of  God,  he  had  the  testi- 
 mony of  his  conscience,  in  the  near  prospect  of  the  last  tribu- 
 nal. To  repeated  interrogatories  in  relation  to  this  point,  his 
 answers  were  full  and  unequivocal. 
 
 The  religion  which  he  preached  and  exemplified  in  hfe  sus- 
 tained him  in  the  hour  when  flesh  and  heart  failed,  and  shed 
 unclouded  light  on  his  passage  to  the  unseen  world.  And  shall 
 we  say  —  we  here  borrow  the  language  employed  by  a  valued 
 brother  on  occasion  of  his  death  —  "  Shall  we  say  that  all  this 
 was  delusion,  and  an  unsubstantial  vision  1  Shall  we  imagine 
 that  this  most  active  mind  is  now  extinct?  that  this  servant  and 
 friend  of  Jesus  Christ  is  annihilated,  is  lost?  Has  the  tempest 
 stolen  him  away  7  Long  tossed  on  the  billows,  has  he  been  swal- 
 lowed up  by  the  deep?  Oh,  no  !  But,  as  God  is  true,  we  be- 
 lieve he  has  entered  a  secure  haven,  where  the  storm  is  not 
 heard,  —  where  the  agitation  of  the  elements  is  not  felt,  —  where 
 no  wave  of  trouble  ever  breaks  upon  the  peaceful  shore — where 
 not  a  ripple  disturbs  the  deep  serenity,  which  reflects  to  the  as- 
 tonished eye  the  beauty,  and  brightness,  and  majesty  of  the 
 skies." 
 
 "behold  thy  mother." 
 The  scene  at  the  death-bed  of  Dr.  Payson,  described  on  page 
 424,  has  been  happily  expanded  in  the  following  beautiful  lines, 
 from  the  chaste  and  fruitful  pen  of  Mrs.  Sigourney.  The  eldest 
 son,  in  this  case,  is  not  the  eldest  child  ;  but  who  can  regret  an 
 innocent  mistake,  which  has  furnished  the  occasion  of  so  much 
 tenderness  and  beauty? 
 
 What  said  the  eye  ?  —  The  marble  lip  spake  not, 
 
 Save  in  that  quivering  sob  with  which  stern  Death 
 
 Doth  crush  life's  harp-strings.    Lo !  again  it  pours 
 
 A  tide  of  more  than  utter'd  eloquence  — 
 
 "Son!  —  look  upon  thy  mother!"  —  and  retires 
 
 Beneath  the  curtain  of  the  drooping  lids, 
 
 To  hide  itself  forever.    'Tis  the  last. 
 
 Last  glance !  —  and  mark  how  tenderly  it  fell 
 
 Upon  that  lov'd  companion,  and  the  groups 
 
 That  wept  around.    Full  well  the  dying  knew 
 
 The  value  of  those  holy  charities 
 
 Which  purge  the  dross  of  selfishness  away ; 
 
454 
 
 MEMOIR  OF 
 
 And  deep  he  felt  that  woman's  b  usting  heart 
 
 Rent  fi-om  the  cherish'd  prop,  which,  next  to  Christ, 
 
 Had  been  her  stay  in  all  adversities, 
 
 Would  take  the  balm-cup  best  fi-om  that  dear  hand 
 
 AVhich  woke  the  sources  of  maternal  love,  — 
 
 That  smile,  whose  wuming  paid  for  sleepless  nights 
 
 Of  cradle-care,  —  that  voice,  whose  murmured  tones 
 
 Her  own  had  moulded  to  the  words  of  prayer. — 
 
 How  soothing  to  a  widow'd  mother's  breast 
 
 Her  first-bom's  sympathy ! 
 
 Be  strong,  young  man !  — 
 Lift  the  protector's  arm,  —  the  healer's  prayer!  — 
 Be  tender  in  thy  eveiy  word  and  deed. 
 A  spirit  watchetli  thee !  —  Yes,  he  who  pass'd 
 From  shaded  earth  up  to  the  full-orb'd  day, 
 Will  be  thy  witness  in  the  court  of  heaven 
 How  tliou  dost  bear  his  mantle. 
 
 So  farewell, 
 Leader  in  Israel!  —  Thou  whose  radiant  path 
 Was  like  the  angel's  standing  in  the  sun,  * 
 Ifudazzled  and  unswerving,  —  it  was  meet 
 That  thou  shouldst  rise  to  fight  without  a  cloud. 
 
 *  Revelation,  xix.  17. 
 
SELECTIONS 
 
 FROM  THE 
 
 CONVERSATIONS 
 
 AND 
 
 UNPUBLISHED  WRITINGS 
 
 OF 
 
 REV.  EDWARD  PAYSON,  D.  D. 
 
 Remember  the  worda  that  I  spake  unto  you,  while  I  was  yet  present  with  jo\i.— Memoir,  p.  424. 
 
j 
 
P  B  E  F  A  C  E 
 
 Soon  after  the  publication  of  my  father's  Memoir,  the 
 design  was  formed  of  preparing  a  small  volume  of  se- 
 lections from  his  remembered  conversations,  addresses 
 at  private  meetings,  Bible  classes,  etc.  As  the  materi- 
 als which  could  be  collected  in  this  way  proved  entirely 
 insufficient,  it  was  thought  best  to  complete  the  work, 
 as  nearly  as  possible  in  conformity  with  the  original 
 design,  by  making  extracts  from  his  unpublished  dis- 
 courses ;  and  this  has  accordingly  been  done.  In  regard 
 to  those  portions  which  were  written  from  memory,  it  is 
 not  presumed  that  the  precise  language  employed  has, 
 in  any  instance,  been  preserved.  There  has  been  an 
 endeavor  to  secure  variety  in  the  selections,  which  are 
 arranged  with  reference  to  the  progress  of  a  mind,  from 
 impenitence  and  unbelief,  through  the  different  stages 
 of  conviction,  to  faith  and  confirmed  hope.  None  of 
 the  extracts  have  before  appeared  in  print.  They  are 
 given  to  the  public  in  the  earnest  hope,  that  they  may 
 be  instrumental  in  accomplishing  the  wish  so  often  ex- 
 pressed by  their  author,  that  he  might  "be  permitted 
 to  do  good  with  his  pen,  when  his  tongue  should  be  si- 
 lent in  death."  L.  S.  P. 
 
SELECT  THOUGHTS. 
 
 GOD. 
 
 How  much  this  title  implies,  no  tongue,  human  or  angelic, 
 can  ever  express  ;  no  mind  conceive.  It  is  a  volume  of  an  in- 
 finite number  of  leaves,  and  every  leaf  full  of  meaning.  It  will 
 be  read  by  saints  and  angels,  through  the  ages  of  eternity,  but 
 they  will  never  reach  the  last  leaf,  nor  fully  comprehend  the 
 meaning  of  a  single  page. 
 
 Look  back  to  the  time  when  God  existed  independent  and 
 alone;  when  there  was  nothing  but  God;  no  heavens,  no  earth, 
 no  angels,  no  men.  How  wretched  should  we,  how  wretched 
 would  any  creature  be,  in  such  a  situation !  But  Jehovah  was 
 then  infinitely  happy — happy  beyond  all  possibility  of  increase. 
 He  is  an  overflowing  fountain,  a  bottomless  and  shoreless  ocean, 
 of  being,  perfection,  and  happiness;  and  when  this  infinite  ocean 
 overflows,  suns  and  worlds,  angels  and  men,  start  into  existence. 
 
 I  would  ask  you  to  pause  and  contemplate,  for  a  moment,  this 
 wonderful  Being.  But  where  shall  we  stand  to  take  a  view  of 
 him  ?  When  we  wish  to  contemplate  the  ocean,  we  take  our 
 stand  upon  its  shore.  But  this  infinite  ocean  of  being  and  per- 
 fection has  no  shore.  There  is  no  place  where  we  can  stand  to 
 look  at  him,  for  he  is  in  us,  around  us,  above  us,  below  us.  Yet, 
 in  another  sense,  there  is  no  place  where  we  may  not  look  at 
 him,  for  he  is  every  where.  We  see  nothing  which  he  has  not 
 made,  no  motion  which  he  does  not  cause;  for  he  is  all,  and  in 
 all,  and  above  all,  God  over  all,  blessed  forever.    Even  he  him- 
 
4G0 
 
 LOVE    OF  GOD. 
 
 selt  cannot  tell  us  fully  what  he  is,  fcf  our  minds  cannot  take 
 it  in.    He  can  only  say  to  us,  I  am  that  I  am.    I  am  Jehovah. 
 
 ETERNITY    OF  GOB. 
 
 Try,  for  a  moment,  to  conceive  of  a  Being  without  a  begin- 
 ning; a  Being  who  does  not  become  older  as  ages  roll  away. 
 Fly  back,  in  imagination,  millions  of  millions  of  millions  of  years, 
 till  reason  is  confounded,  and  fancy  wearied  in  the  flight.  God 
 then  existed,  and,  what  may  at  first  appear  paradoxical,  he  had 
 then  existed  as  long  as  he  has  now ;  you  would  then  be  no  nearer 
 the  beginning  of  his  existence  than  you  are  now,  for  it  has  no 
 beginning,  and  you  cannot  approach  to  that  which  does  not 
 exist.  Nor  will  his  being  ever  come  to  an  end.  Add  together 
 ages  of  ages;  multiply  them  by  the  leaves  on  the  trees,  the  sand 
 on  the  sea-shore,  and  the  dust  of  the  earth,  still  you  will  be  no 
 nearer  the  termination  of  Jehovah's  existence,  than  when  you 
 first  began  your  calculation.  And  let  us  remember  that  the 
 duration  of  his  existence  is  the  only  measure  of  our  own.  As 
 it  respects  futurity,  we  are  all  as  immortal  as  Jehovah  himself. 
 
 LOVE    OF  GOD. 
 
 In  the  words,  "  God  is  love,"  we  have  a  perfect  portrait  of  the 
 eternal  and  incomprehensible  Jehovah,  drawn  by  his  own  un- 
 erring hand.  The  mode  of  expression  here  adopted,  difl'ers  ma- 
 terially from  that  usually  employed  by  the  inspired  writers,  in 
 speakmg  of  the  divine  perfections.  They  say,  God  is  merciful, 
 God  is  just,  God  is  holy  ;  but  never  do  they  say,  God  is  mercy, 
 God  is  justice,  God  is  holiness.  In  this  instance,  on  the  contrary, 
 the  apostle,  instead  of  saying,  God  is  loving,  or  good,  or  kind, 
 says,  God  is  love,  love  itself  By  this  expression  we  must  un- 
 derstand that  God  is  all  pure,  unmixed  love,  and  that  the  other 
 moral  perfections  of  his  character  are  only  so  many  modifica- 
 tions of  this  love.  Thus  his  justice,  his  mercy,  his  truth,  his 
 faithfulness,  are  but  so  many  different  names  of  his  love  or 
 goodness.  As  the  light  which  proceeds  from  the  sun  may  easily 
 be  separated  into  many  different  colors,  so  the  holy  love  of  God, 
 which  is  the  light  and  glory  of  his  nature,  may  be  separated  into 
 a  variety  of  moral  attributes  and  perfections.  But,  though 
 separated,  they  are  still  love.    His  whole  nature  and  essence 
 
LIVING    TO    GOD.  461 
 
 are  love;  his  will,  his  works,  and  his  words,  are  love;  he  is 
 nothing,  can  do  nothing  but  love. 
 
 WISDOM    OF  GOD. 
 
 Often  when  the  church  thinks  itself  in  the  most  imminent 
 danger,  when  its  friends  are  ready  to  cry  in  despair.  All  these 
 things  are  against  us,  our  destruction  is  inevitable;  angels  are 
 lost  in  wonder  in  view  of  the  means  which  divine  wisdom  is, 
 even  then,  employing  to  effect  its  deliverance  and  turn  its  des- 
 pondency into  triumph.  For  some  thousands  of  years  they  have 
 been  contemplating  this  spectacle;  their  knowledge  and  their 
 admiration  of  God's  wisdom  have  been  continually  increasing, 
 and  yet  every  day  they  learn  something  new,  every  day  they 
 see  new  proofs  that  Jehovah  is  indeed  the  all-wise  God;  that 
 his  resources  are  inexhaustible;  that  he  can  never  be  at  a  loss; 
 and  that  he  can  effect  the  same  object  in  numberless  different 
 ways,  and  by  the  use  of  the  most  improbable  means. 
 
 DUTY    OF    LIVING  TO   THE  GLORY  OF  GOD. 
 
 We  were  created  and  redeemed  for  the  sole  purpose  of  prais- 
 ing and  glorifying  our  Creator ;  and  if  we  refuse  or  neglect  to  do 
 this,  we  transgress  the  great  law  of  creation,  frustrate  the  end 
 of  existence,  leave  unperformed  the  work  for  which  we  were 
 made,  and  do  all  in  our  power  to  prove  that  we  were  created  in 
 vain,  and  to  cause  God  to  repent  of  having  made  us.  Should 
 the  sun  refuse  to  shine:  should  the  showers  refuse  to  descend; 
 should  the  earth  refuse  to  bring  forth  food;  or  should  trees  in  a 
 fruitful  soil  continue  barren  —  would  you  not  say  that  it  was 
 contrary  to  nature  and  to  the  design  of  their  creation;  and  that 
 since  they  no  longer  fulfilled  this  design,  they  might  properly  be 
 reduced  to  nothing  again?  And  do  you  not  see  that  while  you 
 refuse  to  praise  God,  your  conduct  is  equally  unnatural,  and 
 that  you  may  justly  be  made  the  monuments  of  his  everlasting 
 displeasure  7  What  would  only  be  unnatural  in  inanimate  crea- 
 tures, is  the  height  of  folly  and  wickedness  in  us;  because  we 
 are  capable  of  knowing  our  duty,  and  are  under  innumerable 
 obligations  to  practise  it.  Let  the  sun  then  refuse  to  shine,  the 
 showers  to  descend,  and  the  earth  to  be  fruitful;  but  let  not  ra- 
 tional creatures  refuse  to  praise  their  Creator,  since  it  is  the  pur- 
 pose for  which  they  were  created. 
 
462 
 
 EEVEKENCE    FOR  GOD. 
 
 HOW    CAN    CREATURES     GLORIFY  GOB? 
 
 Zf  it  be  asked  how  creatures  so  feeble  and  ungrateful  as  we 
 are,  can  glorify  God,  I  answer,  by  conducting  in  such  a  manner 
 as  naturally  tends  to  make  him  appear  glorious,  amiable  and 
 excellent  in  the  view  of  his  creatures.  A  son,  for  instance,  hon- 
 ors his  parents,  when  he  evidently  loves,  reverences,  confides  in, 
 and  obeys  them;  because  such  conduct  tends  to  make  those 
 who  know  him  think  favorably  of  his  parents.  A  subject  hon- 
 ors his  sovereign  when  he  cheerfully  submits  to  his  authority, 
 and  appears  to  be  contented  and  happy  in  his  government;  be- 
 cause this  tends  to  give  others  a  favorable  opinion  of  his  sover- 
 eign. So  men  honor  and  glorify  God,  when  they  show  by  their 
 conduct  that  they  consider  him  the  most  perfect  and  best  of 
 beings,  and  love,  reverence  and  confide  in  him  as  such;  for  these 
 things  naturally  tend  to  excite  a  high  estimation  of  God,  in  the 
 minds  of  their  fellow  creatures. 
 
 REVERENCE    FOR  GOD. 
 
 With  what  profoimd  veneration  does  it  become  us  to  enter  the 
 presence,  and  to  receive  the  favors  of  the  awful  Majesty  of 
 heaven  and  earth!  And  how  ought  we  to  dread  grieving  or 
 offending  goodness  so  great,  so  glorious,  so  venerable!  To 
 illustrate  this  remark,  suppose  that  the  sun,  whose  brightness, 
 even  at  this  distance,  you  cannot  gaze  upon  without  shrinking, 
 were  an  animated,  intelligent  body;  and  that,  with  a  design  to 
 do  you  good,  he  should  leave  his  place  in  the  heavens,  and 
 gradually  approach  you.  As  he  drew  more  and  more  near,  his 
 apparent  magnitude  and  effulgence  would  every  moment  in- 
 crease; he  would  occupy  a  larger  and  larger  portion  of  the 
 visible  heavens,  until  at  length  all  other  objects  would  be  lost, 
 and  yourselves  swallowed  np  in  one  insufferably  dazzling,  over- 
 powering flood  of  light.  Would  you  not,  in  such  circumstances, 
 feel  the  strongest  emotions  of  awe,  of  something  like  fear? 
 Would  a  knowledge  that  the  glorious  luminary  was  approaching 
 with  a  benevolent  design  for  your  good,  banish  these  emotions? 
 Wflat,  then,  ought  to  be  the  feelings  of  a  sinful  worm  of  the 
 dust,  when  the  Father  of  lights,  the  eternal  Sun  of  the  universe, 
 who  dwells  in  the  high  and  holy  place,  and  in  the  contrite  heart, 
 stoops  from  his  awful  throne,  to  visit  him,  to  smile  upon  him. 
 
DUTY    OF    LOVING  GOD. 
 
 463 
 
 to  pardon  him,  to  purify  him  from  his  moral  defilement,  to  adopt 
 him  as  a  child,  to  make  him  an  heir  of  heaven,  to  take  posses- 
 sion of  his  heart  as  his  earthly  habitation? 
 
 DUTY    OF    LOVING  GOD. 
 
 We  ought  to  love  God  because  he  has  given  us  the  power  to 
 love.  He  might  have  formed  us  gloomy,  morose,  misanthropic 
 beings,  destitute  of  all  the  social  affections ;  without  the  power 
 of  loving  any  object,  and  sti;angers  to  the  happiness  of  being 
 beloved.  Should  God  withdraw  into  himself,  not  only  all  the 
 amiable  qualities  which  excite  love,  but  the  very  power  of 
 loving,  would  vanish  from  the  world,  and  we  should  not  only, 
 like  the  evil  spirits,  become  perfectly  hateful,  but  should,  hke 
 them,  hate  one  another. 
 
 Every  object  which  can  be  presented  to  us  has  a  claim  on  our 
 affections  corresponding  to  its  character.  If  any  object  be  ad- 
 rauable,  it  possesses  a  natural  and  inherent  claim  to  our  admi- 
 ration ;  if  it  be  venerable,  it  has  a  claim  to  our  reverence  ;  if  it 
 be  terrible,  it  demands  our  fear ;  if  it  be  beautiful  and  amiable, 
 it  claims  and  deserves  our  love.  But  God  is  perfectly  and  infi- 
 nitely lovely ;  nay,  he  is  excellence  and  loveliness  itself  If 
 you  doubt  this,  ask  those  who  can  tell  you.  Ask  Christ,  who 
 is  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  and  he  will  tell  you  that  God  i.s 
 infinitely  lovely.  Ask  the  holy  angels,  who  dwell  in  his  imme- 
 diate presence,  and  they  will  tell  you  that  he  is  lovely  beyond 
 all  that  even  angelic  minds  can  conceive.  Ask  good  men  in  all 
 ages,  and  they  will  lament  that  they  cannot  tell  you  how  amia- 
 ble and  excellent  Jehovah  is.  Ask  every  thing  beautiful  aud 
 amiable  in  the  universe,  and  it  will  tell  you  that  all  its  beauty 
 is  but  a  faint  reflection  of  his.  If  all  this  does  not  satisfy  you, 
 ask  the  spirits  of  disobedience ;  and  they,  though  filled  with 
 malice  and  rage  against  him,  will  tell,  if  you  can  constrain  them 
 to  speak,  that  the  Being  they  hate  is  lovely,  and  that  it  consti- 
 tutes the  essence  of  their  misery  that  they  can  find  no  blemish 
 in  his  character.  But  if  God  be  thus  infinitely  lovely,  we  are 
 under  infinite  obhgations  to  love  him  ;  obligations  from  which 
 he  himself  cannot  release  us  but  by  altering  his  character,  and 
 ceasing  to  be  lovely. 
 
464 
 
 EXCELLENCE    OF  GOD. 
 
 FOLLY   OF    PKEFERRING    CEEATITBES    TO  GOD. 
 
 Would  you  not  consider  a  person  foolish  and  absurd,  who 
 should  extravagantly  love  and  prize  a  drop  of  stagnant  water, 
 and  yet  view  the  ocean  with  indifference  or  disgust  7  or  who 
 should  constantly  grovel  in  the  dust  to  admire  a  shining  grain 
 of  sand,  yet  neglect  to  admire  the  sun  which  caused  it  to  shine  1 
 Of  what  folly  and  absurdity,  then,  are  we  guilty,  when  we  love 
 the  imperfectly  amiable  qualities  of  our  fellow  worms,  or  admire 
 the  sublimity  and  beauty  of  the  works  of  nature,  and  yet  exer- 
 cise no  love  to  him  to  whom  they  are  indebted  for  all ;  him 
 whose  glory  gilds  the  heavens,  and  from  whom  angels  derive 
 every  thing  that  can  excite  admiration  or  love. 
 
 GOD    THE    ONLY  SOUKCE    OF  EXCELLENCE. 
 
 God  only,  the  Father  of  lights,  from  whom  cometh  down 
 every  good  and  perfect  gift,  makes  one  creature  to  differ  from 
 another.  They  are  Avise  only  by  his  wisdom,  strong  in  his 
 strength,  and  good  in  his  goodness.  He  is  more  entirely  the 
 Author  of  every  thing  good  in  heaven  and  on  earth,  than  the 
 sun  is  the  author  of  that  image  of  himself  which  is  seen  in  a 
 mirror.  When  creatures  acknowledge  this,  and  ascribe  all  the 
 excellences  they  po.ssess  to  him  alone,  they  then,  in  the  language 
 of  Scripture,  bring  forth  fruit,  not  to  themselves,  but  to  his  glory. 
 
 God  is  the  source  of  every  thing  excellent  or  praiseworthy  in 
 the  intellectual  world.  To  him  angels  and  men  are  alike  in- 
 debted for  all  their  faculties.  Reason,  memory,  wit,  prudence, 
 invention  and  imagination,  are  only  his  gifts.  The  statesman, 
 the  warrior,  the  mathematician,  the  poet,  the  orator,  the  histo- 
 rian, the  astronomer,  the  painter,  and  the  sculptor,  all  were 
 formed,  instructed  and  directed  by  him.  By  his  assistance,  all 
 the  great  enterprises,  splendid  achievements  and  admirable  works 
 which  the  world  ever  saw,  were  performed.  It  is  he,  says  Da- 
 vid, who  teaches  my  hands  to  war,  and  my  fingers  to  fight.  It 
 was  he  who  guided  Columbus  to  the  discovery  of  this  new 
 world.  It  was  he  who  qualified  our  re'^ered  Washington  for 
 the  great  work  of  delivering  his  country,  and  assisted  him  in  its 
 accomplishment.  And  while  we  admire  the  gifts  of  God  in 
 men,  shall  we  not  admire  the  Giver?    While  we  admire  the 
 
SUBMISSION    TO  GOD. 
 
 465 
 
 achievements,  enterprises  and  works  of  men,  shall  we  not  ad- 
 mire him  who  enabled  men  to  perform  them  7  Shall  we  rest  in 
 streams,  and  admire  them  only,  without  praising  the  fountain  T- 
 Surely  this  is  highly  unreasonable. 
 
 DUTY  OF  SUBMISSION    TO  THE  WILL  OF  GOD. 
 
 Suppose  that  the  members  of  our  bodies,  instead  of  being 
 controlled  by  the  will  of  the  head,  had  each  a  separate,  inde- 
 pendent will  of  its  own :  would  they  not,  in  this  case,  become 
 useless  and  even  mischievous?  Something  like  this,  you  are 
 sensible,  occasionally  takes  place.  In  certain  diseases,  the  mem- 
 bers seem  to  escape  from  the  control  of  the  will,  and  act  as  if 
 they  were  governed  by  a  separate  will  of  their  own.  When 
 this  is  the  case,  terrible  consequences  often  ensue.  The  teetli 
 shut  suddenly  and  violently,  and  lacerate  the  tongue ;  the  ele- 
 vated hands  beat  the  face  and  other  parts  of  the  body;  the  feet 
 refuse  to>support  it,  and  it  rolls  in  the  dust  a  melancholy  and 
 frightful  spectacle.  Such  effects  we  call  convulsions.  There 
 are  convulsions  in  the  moral  as  well  as  in  the  natural  world, 
 and  they  take  place  when  the  will  of  man  refuses  to  be  controlled 
 by  the  will  of  God.  Did  all  men  submit  cordially  to  his  will, 
 they  would  live  together  in  love  and  harmony,  and.  like  the 
 members  of  a  healthy  body,  would  all  promote  each  other's 
 welfare,  and  that  of  the  whole  system.  But  they  have  refused 
 to  obey  his  will,  and  have  set  up  their  own  wills  in  opposition 
 to  it;  and  what  has  been  the  consequence?  Convulsions,  most 
 terrible  convulsions,  which  have,  in  ten  thousand  thousand  in- 
 stances, led  one  member  of  this  great  body  to  injure  another ; 
 and  not  only  disturbed  but  almost  destroyed  the  peace  of  society. 
 What  are  wars,  insurrections,  revolutions  7  What  are  robberies, 
 piracies,  murders,  but  convulsions  in  the  moral  world  7  convul- 
 sions which  would  never  have  occurred,  had  not  the  will  of  man 
 refused  to  submit  to  the  will  of  God.  And  never  will  these 
 convulsions  cease,  never  will  universal  love,  and  peace  and 
 happiness  prevail,  until  the  rebellious  will  of  man  shall  again 
 submit  to  the  controlling  will  of  God,  and  his  will  shall  be  done 
 on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven. 
 
 If  all  mankind  could  be  persuaded  to  say.  Not  as  I  will,  but 
 VOL.  I.  59 
 
466 
 
 SUBMISSION    TO  GOD. 
 
 as  thou  wilt,  as  sincerely  as  Christ  said  it,  sin  would  that  mo- 
 ment cease  to  exist  in  the  world,  God  and  men  would  be  per- 
 fectly reconciled,  and  his  will  would  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in 
 heaven.  Yes,  let  every  human  being  only  say  to  God,  with  his 
 whole  heart,  Not  my  will  but  thine  be  done,  and  holiness  and 
 happiness  would  instantly  fill  the  world ;  men  would  be  em- 
 bodied angels,  and  earth  would  become  a  sublunary  heaven. 
 
 I  look  up  to  heaven,  and  there  see  the  blessed  and  only 
 Potentate,  the  Creator  and  Upholder  of  all  things,  the  infinite 
 and  eternal  Sovereign  of  the  universe,  governing  his  vast  king- 
 dom with  uncontrollable  power,  in  a  manner  perfectly  wise, 
 and  holy,  and  just,  and  good.  In  this  Being  I  see  my  Creator, 
 my  Preserver,  my  unwearied  Benefactor,  to  whom  I  am  in- 
 debted for  every  thing  which  I  possess.  And  what  does  this 
 being  see,  what  has  he  seen,  in  me  ?  He  sees  a  frail  worm  of 
 the- dust,  who  is  of  yesterday,  and  knows  nothing,  who  cannot 
 take  a  single  step  without  making  mistakes,  who  is  wholly  in- 
 competent to  guide  himself,  and  who,  by  his  own  folly,  is 
 self-destroyed.  He  has  seen  this  frail,  blind,  erring  worm, 
 presumptuously  daring  to  criticise  and  censure  his  proceedings, 
 to  interfere  in  his  government  of  the  universe,  and  to  set  up  his 
 own  perverse  will  against  the  will  of  his  Creator,  his  Sovereign, 
 and  his  God;  his  own  ignorance  against  divine  omniscience, 
 and  his  own  folly  against  infinite  wisdom.  This  he  has  seen 
 in  me,  and  this  he  has  seen  in  you ;  and  who,  that  believes  God 
 has  seen  this  in  him,  can  avoid  feeling  overwhelmed  with  sor- 
 row, and  shame,  and  remorse?  We  may  say  what  we  please 
 of  the  difficulty  of  repenting,  but  it  would  seem  to  be  a  thousand 
 fold  more  difficult  to  refrain  from  repenting,  after  having  been 
 guilty  of  conduct  like  this.  O,  then,  come  and  perform  this 
 easy,  this  most  reasonable  duty.  Come,  and  repent,  before  God, 
 of  your  disobedience  and  opposition  to  his  will,  receive  through 
 Christ  a  free  and  gracious  pardon,  and  then  learn  of  him  who 
 was  meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  to  say.  Father,  not  my  will,  but 
 thine,  be  done. 
 
 Should  an  angel  who  knew  nothing  of  our  characters,  but 
 who  had  heard  of  the  blessings  which  God  has  bestowed  on  us, 
 visit  this  world,  would  he  not  expect  to  find  every  part  of  it 
 
NECESSITY   OF  SUBMISSION. 
 
 467 
 
 resounding  with  the  praises  of  God  and  his  love  ?  Would  he 
 not  expect  to  hear  old  and  young,  parents  and  children,  all  bles- 
 sing God  for  the  glad  tidings  of  the  gospel,  and  crying.  Hosanna 
 to  the  son  of  David  7  How,  then,  would  he  be  grieved  and 
 disappointed !  How  astonished  to  find  that  Being  whom  he 
 had  ever  heard  praised  in  the  most  rapturous  strains  by  all  the 
 bright  armies  of  heaven,  slighted,  disobeyed,  and  dishonored, 
 by  his  creatures  on  earth  !  Would  you  not  be  ashamed,  would 
 you  not  blush  to  look  such  a  visitor  in  the  face  ?  to  tell  him  how 
 httle  you  have  done  for  .God,  tell  him  that  you  ace  not  one  of 
 his  servants  l  O,  then,  let  us  strive  to  wipe  away  this  foul 
 stain,  this  disgrace  to  our  race  and  our  world.  Let  not  this 
 world  be  the  only  place,  except  hell,  where  God  is  not  praised. 
 Let  us  not  be  the  only  creatures,  except  devils,  who  refuse  to 
 praise  him. 
 
 ALL    MEN    THE    SUBJECTS    OF  CHRIST. 
 
 The  subjects  of  Christ's  mediatorial  kingdom  are  divided  into 
 two  grand  classes — those  who  are  obedient,  and  those  who  are 
 rebellious.  The  former  class  is  composed  of  good  men  and 
 angels,  the  latter  of  wicked  men  and  devils.  The  former  serves 
 Christ  willingly  and  cheerfully.  He  rules  them  with  the  golden 
 sceptre  of  love  ;  his  law  is  written  in  their  hearts;  they  esteem 
 his  yoke  easy  and  his  burden  light,  and  habitually  execute  his 
 will.  All  the  bright  armies  of  heaven,  angels  and  archangels, 
 who  excel  in  strength,  are  his  servants,  and  go  forth  at  his  com- 
 mand, as  messengers  of  love,  to  minister  to  the  heirs  of  salva- 
 tion, or  as  messengers  of  wrath  to  execute  vengeance  on  his 
 enemies.  Nor  are  his  obedient  subjects  to  be  found  only  in 
 heaven.  In  this  world,  also,  the  standard  of  the  cross,  the 
 banner  of  his  love,  is  erected,  and  thousands  and  millions,  who 
 were  once  his  enemies,  have  been  brought  willing  captives  to 
 his  feet,  have  joyfully  acknowledged  him  as  their  Master  and 
 Lord,  and  sworn  allegiance  to  him  as  the  Author  of  their  salva- 
 tion. Nor  is  his  authority  less  absolute  over  the  second  class  of 
 his  subjects,  who  still  persist  in  their  rebellion.  In  vain  do  they 
 say,  We  will  not  have  this  man  to  reign  over  us.  He  rules 
 them  with  a  rod  of  iron,  causes  even  their  wrath  to  praise  him, 
 and  makes  them  the  involuntary  instruments  of  carrying  on  his 
 great  designs.    He  holds  all  the  infernal  spirits  in  a  chain,  gov- 
 
468 
 
 SIN  OF  UNBELIEF, 
 
 ems  the  conquerors,  monarchs  and  great  ones  of  the  earth,  and 
 in  all  things  Avherein  they  deal  proudly,  he  is  still  above  them 
 In  one  or  the  other  of  these  ways,  all  must  serve  Christ.  Is  it 
 not  better  to  serve  him  willingly,  and  be  rewarded,  than  to 
 serve  him  reluctantly,  and  be  destroyed? 
 
 SINFULNESS   OF  UNBELIEF. 
 
 The  reason  why  persons  who  appear  to  be  in  some  measure 
 convinced  of  sin,  so  often  lose  their  convictions ;  and  why  so 
 many  professors  of  religion  fall  away  and  disgrace  their  profes- 
 sion, is,  because  the  work  of  conviction  was  never  thoroughly 
 performed ;  because  they  were  never  convinced  of  unbelief — 
 They  saw,  perhaps,  that  they  Avere  sinners.  They  felt  convin- 
 ced of  many  sins  in  their  tempers  and  conduct ;  they  in  some 
 measure  corrected  and  laid  aide  these  sins;  then  their  conscien- 
 ces ceased  to  reproach  them,  and  they  flattered  themselves  that 
 they  had  become  new  creatures.  But,  meanwhile,  they  knew 
 nothing  of  the  great  sin  of  unbelief,  and  therefore  never  confes- 
 sed, repented  of,  or  forsook  it,  until  it  proved  their  destruction. 
 They  were  like  a  man  who  should  go  to  a  physician  to  be  heal- 
 ed of  some  slight  external  wound,  while  he  knew  nothing  of  a 
 deep-rooted  disease  which  was  preying  upon  his  vitals.  Profes- 
 sors, try  yourselves  by  these  remarks.  Look  back  to  the  lime 
 when  you  imagined  yourselves  to  be  convinced  of  sin,  and  say 
 whether  you  were  then  convinced,  or  whether  you  have  at  any 
 time  since  been  convinced  of  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of  unbe- 
 lief If  not,  there  is  great  reason  to  fear  that  you  are  deceived, 
 that  you  have  mistaken  the  form  for  the  power  of  godliness. 
 
 It  is  God's  invariable  method  to  humble  before  he  exalts ;  to 
 show  us  our  diseases  before  he  heals  them  ;  to  convince  us  that 
 we  are  sinners  before  he  pronounces  our  pardon.  When,  there- 
 fore, the  Spirit  of  all  grace  and  consolation  comes  to  comfort 
 and  sanctify  a  sinner,  he  begins  by  acting  the  part  of  a  reprover, 
 and  thus  convincing  him  of  sin.  The  sin  of  which  he  more 
 particularly  aims  to  convince  him  is  unbelief  He  shall  reprove 
 the  world  of  sin,  says  our  Saviour.  Why  ?  Because  they  are 
 murderers,  thieves,  or  adulterers?  No.  Because  they  are 
 guilty  of  slander,  fraud,  or  extortion  1  No.  Because  they  are 
 intemperate,  dissipated,  or  sensual]    No.    Because  they  a»'e 
 
HUMAN  DEPRAVITY. 
 
 469 
 
 envious,  malicious,  or  revengeful  ?  No ;  but  because  they  are 
 unbelievers,  because  they  believe  not  on  me. 
 
 If  there  is  one  fact,  or  doctrine,  or  promise  in  the  Bible,  which 
 has  produced  no  practical  effect  upon  your  temper  or  conduct,  be 
 assured  that  you  do  not  truly  believe  it. 
 
 CONDUCT   OF   MEN   TOWARDS  THEIR  MAKER. 
 
 Mankind  seem  to  consider  God  as  a  sort  of  outlaw,  who  has 
 no  rights  ;  or,  at  least,  as  one  whose  rights  may  be  disregarded 
 and  trampled  on  at  pleasure.  They  allow  that  promises  made 
 to  each  other  ought  to  be  fulfilled;  but  they  violate,  without 
 scruple,  those  promises  which  they  often  make  to  God,  in  an 
 hour  of  seriousness,  sickness,  or  affliction.  They  allow  that 
 earthly  rulers  ought  to  be  obeyed,  but  they  seem  to  think  that 
 no  obedience  is  due  to  the  Sovereign  Ruler  of  the  universe. 
 They  allow  that  children  ought  to  love,  honor,  and  submit  to 
 their  parents;  but  they  do  not  appear  to  think  that  either  love, 
 honor,  or  submission,  should  be  paid  to  our  Father  in  heaven. 
 They  allow  that  gratitude  is  due  to  human  benefactors,  and 
 that  to  requite  their  favors  with  ingratitude,  is  a  proof  of  abom- 
 inable wickedness;  but  they  practically  deny  that  any  grateful 
 return  should  be  made  to  our  heavenly  Benefactor  for  his  innu- 
 merable benefits,  and  seem  to  consider  the  blackest  ingratitude 
 towards  him  as  scarcely  a  sin. 
 
 When  a  son  forsakes  his  father's  house;  when  he  refuses  to 
 comply  wiih  his  entreaties  to  return  ;  when  he  chooses  to  endure 
 all  the  evils  of  poverty  rather  than  return,  —  we  are  ready  to 
 suspect  that  his  father  must  be  a  very  disagreeable,  unlovely, 
 or  cruel  character,  since  his  own  children  cannot  live  with  him. 
 At  least,  we  shall  think  this  unless  we  have  a  very  bad  opinion 
 of  the  son.  We  must  condemn  one  or  the  other.  So,  when 
 God's  own  creatures,  whom  he  has  nourished  and  brought  up  as 
 children,  forsake  him,  and  refuse  to  return  or  be  reconciled,  it 
 gives  other  beings  cause  to  suspect  that  he  must  be  a  very  cruel, 
 unlovely  being;  and  they  must  either  conclude  that  he  is  so, 
 or  form  a  very  bad  opinion  of  us.  Now,  sinners  will  not  allow 
 that  the  fault  is  theirs ;  of  course  they  throw  all  the  blame  upon 
 their  Creator,  and  represent  him  as  such  an  unkind,  cruel  Pa- 
 
470        ROBBING  GOD.     LOVE    OF    THE  WORLD. 
 
 rent,  that  his  children  cannot  live  with  or  please  him.  It  is  true, 
 God  has  power  to  vindicate  his  own  character,  and  to  show  the 
 universe  that  the  fault  is  wholly  ours.  But  this  is  no  thanks  to 
 us.  The  tendency  of  our  conduct  is  still  the  same  ;  it  still  tends 
 to  load  his  character  with  the  blackest  infamy  and  disgrace. 
 This  is  all  the  return  we  make  him  for  giving  us  existence. 
 Thus  do  ye  requite  the  Lord,  O  foolish  people,  and  unwise. 
 
 Will  a  man  rob  God  1  Yet  ye  have  robbed  me.  It  is  evi- 
 dent that  you  withhold  your  hearts  from  God ;  or,  in  other 
 words,  rob  him  of  your  affections,  the  very  thing  which  he 
 principally  desires.  And  is  this  a  small  offence?  Should  a 
 person  rob  you  of  the  affection  and  esteem  of  the  partner  of 
 your  bosom,  of  your  children,  or  your  friends,  Avould  you  not 
 think  it  a  great  injury  7  Would  it  not  in  many  instances  be 
 worse  than  robbing  you  of  your  property  1  And  is  it,  then,  a 
 trifling  offence  for  intelligent  creatures  to  rob  their  Creator, 
 Father  and  benefactor,  of  that  supreme  place  in  their  affections 
 to  which  he  has  a  most  perfect  right,  and  which  he  prizes  above 
 every  thing  they  possess? 
 
 The  world  iS;  in  some  form  or  other,  the  great  Diana,  the 
 grand  idol  of  all  its  inhabitants,  so  long  as  they  continue  in 
 their  natural  sinful  state.  They  bow  down  to  it ;  they  worship 
 it ;  they  spend  and  are  spent  for  it ;  they  educate  their  children 
 in  its  service ;  their  hearts,  their  minds,  their  memories,  their 
 imaginations,  are  full  of<  it ;  their  tongues  speak  of  it ;  their 
 hands  grasp  it ;  their  feet  pursue  it.  In  a  word,  it  is  all  in  all 
 to  them,  while  they  give  scarcely  a  word,  a  look,  or  a  thought 
 to  him  who  made  and  preserves  them  ;  and  who  is  really  all  in 
 all.  Thus  men  rob  God  of  their  bodies  and  spirits,  which  are 
 his,  and  practically  say.  We  are  our  own  ;  who  is  Lord  over  us  1 
 
 From  the  manner  in  which  we  habitually  treat  the  Bible,  we 
 may  learn  what  are  our  feelings  and  dispositions  towards  God; 
 for  as  we  treat  the  word  of  God,  so  should  we  treat  God  him- 
 self, were  he  to  come  and  reside  among  us,  in  a  human  form,  as 
 he  once  dwelt  on  earth  in  the  form  of  his  Son.  The  contents 
 of  Scripture  are  a  perfect  transcript  of  the  divine  mind.  If, 
 then,  God  should  come  to  dwell  among  us,  he  would  teach  the 
 
NEGLECT    OF    THE    BIBLE    AND    PRAYER,  471 
 
 same  things  that  the  Scriptures  teach,  and  pronounce  upon  us 
 the  same  sentence  Avhich  they  pronounce.  W e  should  therefore 
 feel  towards  him  as  we  now  feel  towards  them.  If  we  rever- 
 ^ce,  and  love,  and  obey  the  Scriptures,  then  we  should  rever- 
 ence, love  and  obey  God.  But  if  we  dislike  or  disbelieve  the 
 Scriptures,  if  we  seldom  study  them,  or  read  them  only  with 
 indifference  and  neglect,  we  should  treat  God  in  the  same  man- 
 ner. Never  would  he  be  a  welcome  guest  in  a  family  where 
 his  word  is  neglected. 
 
 LANGUAGE    OF    THOSE    WHO     NEGLECT    THE  BIBLE. 
 
 No  man  will  ever  voluntarily  neglect  to  make  himself  ac- 
 quainted with  the  contents  of  a  message  sent  to  him  by  one 
 whom  he  acknowledges  as  his  superior,  or  on  whom  he  feels 
 himself  to  be  dependent.  Let  a  subject  receive  a  communication 
 from  his  acknowledged  sovereign,  and  as  it  claims,  so  it  will  re- 
 ceive his  immediate  attention.  Nor  will  he,  especially  if  it 
 contains  various  and  important  instructions,  think  a  hasty 
 perusal  of  it  sufficient.  No,  he  will  study  it  till  he  feels  confi- 
 dent that  he  is  acquainted  with  its  contents,  and  understands 
 their  import.  At  least  equally  certain,  and  equally  evident  is 
 it,  that  every  man  whose  heart  acknowledges  God  to  be  his 
 rightful  Sovereign,  and  who  believes  that  the  Scriptures  contain  a 
 revelation  from  him,  will  study  them  attentively,  study  them 
 till  he  feels  confident  that  he  understands  their  contents,  and 
 that  they  have  made  him  wise  unto  salvation.  The  man  who 
 does  not  thus  study  them,  who  negligently  suffers  them  to  lie, 
 for  days  and  weeks,  unopened,  says,  more  explicitly  than  any 
 words  can  say,  I  am  Lord ;  God  is  not  my  Sovereign  ;  I  am  not 
 his  subject,  nor  do  I  consider  it  important  to  know  what  he  re- 
 quires of  me.  Carry  his  messages  to  those  who  are  subject  to 
 him,  and  they  will,  perhaps,  pay  them  some  attention. 
 
 LANGUAGE    OF    ALL     WHO    NEGLECT  PRAYER. 
 
 It  is  natural  to  man,  from  his  earliest  infancy,  to  cry  for  re- 
 lief when  in  danger  or  distress,  if  he  supposes  that  any  one 
 able  to  relieve  him  is  within  hearing  of  his  cries.  Every  man. 
 then,  who  feels  his  own  dependence  upon  God,  and  his  need  ot 
 blessings  which  God  only  can  bestow,  will  pray  to  him.  He 
 will  feel  that  prayer  is  not  only  his  duty,  but  his  highest  privi- 
 
472 
 
 FORBEARANCE    OF  GOD. 
 
 lege  ;  a  privilege  of  which  he  would  not  consent  to  be  deprived, 
 though  confinement  in  a  den  of  lions  were  to  be  the  consequence 
 of  its  exercise.  The  man,  then,  who  refuses,  or  neglects  to 
 pray,  who  regards  prayer  not  as  a  privilege,  but  as  a  wearisome 
 and  needless  task,  practically  says,  in  the  most  unequivocal 
 manner,  I  am  not  dependent  on  God;  I  want  nothing  that  he 
 can  give  ;  and  therefore  I  will  not  come  to  him,  nor  ask  any  fa- 
 vor at  his  hands.  I  will  not  ask  him  to  crown  my  exertions 
 with  success,  for  I  am  able,  and  determined,  to  be  the  architect 
 of  my  own  fortune.  I  will  not  ask  him  to  instruct  or  guide  me, 
 for  I  am  competent  to  be  my  own  instructor  and  guide.  I  will 
 not  ask  him  to  strengthen  and  support  me,  for  I  am  strong  in 
 the  vigor  and  resources  of  my  own  mind.  I  will  not  request 
 his  protection,  for  I  am  able  to  protect  myself  I  will  not  im- 
 plore his  pardoning  mercy  nor  his  sanctifying  grace,  for  1  need, 
 I  desire,  neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  1  will  not  ask  his  pres- 
 ence and  aid  in  the  hour  of  death,  for  1  can  meet  and  grapple, 
 unsupported,  with  the  king  of  terrors,  and  enter,  undaunted 
 and  alone,  any  unknown  world  into  which  he  may  usher  me. 
 Such  is  the  language  of  all  who  neglect  prayer. 
 
 REASON    OF    god's    FORBEARANCE    WITH  SINNERS. 
 
 How  wonderful  is  the  long-suffering  and  forbearance  of  God  ! 
 Here  are  sinners  who  have  been,  for  twenty,  forty,  sixty  years, 
 abusing  his  patience,  and  misimproving  all  his  benefits.  Yet, 
 instead  of  cutting  them  down,  he  adds  another  year,  perhaps 
 many  years,  to  their  long  since  forfeited  lives.  There  are  sin- 
 ners who  have  wasted  and  profaned  a  thousand  Sabbaths, 
 yet  he  allows  them  another  Sabbath,  another  opportunity  of 
 hearing  the  offers  of  salvation.  There  are  sinners  who  have 
 repeatedly  been  urged  in  vain  to  be  reconciled  to  God  ;  yet  he 
 condescends  still  to  require  a  reconciliation.  There  are  sinners 
 at  whose  hearts  Christ  has  knocked,  a  thousand  and  a  thousand 
 times ;  but,  though  they  refuse  to  admit  him,  he  still  knocks  again. 
 O,  why  are  such  treasures  of  goodness  lavished  on  such  insen- 
 sible creatures  7  Why  is  such  an  inestimable  prize  put  into  the 
 hands  of  those  who  have  no  heart  to  improve  it  1  Why,  indeed, 
 but  to  show  what  God  can  do,  and  how  infinitely  his  patience 
 and  forbearance  exceed  ours. 
 
MANS  DEPENDENCE. 
 
 473 
 
 One  reason  why  God  bestows  on  sinners  the  day  and  the 
 means  of  grace,  is,  that  they  may  have  an  opportunity  of  clear- 
 ly displaying  their  own  characters,  and  thus  proving  the  truth 
 of  the  charges  which  he  has  brought  against  them.  He  does. 
 as  it  were,  say  to  the  world,  I  have  accused  these  creatures  of 
 being  enemies  to  me  and  to  all  goodness,  and  of  cherishing  in 
 their  hearts  an  obstinate  attachment  to  vice.  They  deny  the 
 charge.  1  am  therefore  about  to  bring  them  to  the  test ;  to  try 
 an  experiment  which  will  clearly  show  whether  my  charges  are 
 well-founded  or  not.  I  shall  send  them  my  word,  and  the  gos- 
 pel of  my  Son,  clearly  revealing  to  them  the  way  of  salvation. 
 I  shall  send  messengers  to  explain  and  press  upon  them  the 
 truths  there  revealed.  I  shall  allow  them  one  day  in  seven  to  attend 
 on  their  instructions,  and  I  shall  offer  them  the  assistance  of  my 
 Spirit,  to  render  them  holy :  these  privileges  they  shall  enjoy 
 for  years  together.  If  they  improve  them  aright,  if  they  be- 
 lieve my  word,  receive  and  love  my  Son,  and  renounce  their 
 sins,  I  will  acknowledge  that  I  have  accused  them  falsely,  that 
 they  are  not  so  depraved  as  I  have  represented  them.  But, 
 should  they,  on  the  contrary,  neglect  my  word,  disbelieve  the 
 gospel,  and  refuse  to  receive  and  submit  to  my  Son  ;  sliould  they 
 profane  the  Sabbath,  misimprove  the  day  of  grace,  refuse  to  re- 
 pent of  their  sins,  and  be  reconciled  to  me,  then  it  will  be  evi- 
 dent to  all,  that  I  have  not  accused  them  falsely ;  that  they  are 
 just  such  depraved,  obstinate,  irreconcilable  enemies  to  me  and 
 to  goodness,  as  I  have  represented  them  to  be  in  my  word. 
 
 WE    ARE    LORDS,    JER.  II.  31. 
 
 If  men  are  indeed  independent  of  God,  it  may,  with  safety, 
 be  asserted,  that  he  is  almost  the  only  being  or  object  in  the 
 universe,  on  whom  they  are  not  dependent.  From  the  cradle 
 to  the  grave,  their  lives  exhibit  little  else  than  a  continued 
 course  of  dependence.  They  are  dependent  on  the  earth,  on 
 the  water,  on  the  air,  on  each  other,  on  irrational  animals,  on 
 vegetables,  on  unorganized  substances.  Let  but  the  sun  with- 
 hold his  beams,  and  the  clouds  their  showers  for  a  single  year, 
 and  the  whole  race  of  these  mighty,  independent  beings  expires. 
 Let  but  a  pestilential  blast  sweep  over  them,  and  they  are 
 gone.  Let  but  some  imperceptible  derangement  take  place  in 
 their  frail  but  complicated  frame,  and  all  their  l)oasted  intellec- 
 
 voL.  I.  60 
 
474 
 
 TO     THE  IMPENITENT. 
 
 tual  powers  sink  to  the  level  of  an  idiot's  mind.  Let  a  small 
 portion  of  that  food,  on  which  they  daily  depend  for  nourish- 
 ment, pass  but  the  breadth  of  a  line  from  its  proper  course,  and 
 they  expire  in  agony.  An  insect,  a  needle,  a  thorn,  has  often 
 proved  sufficient  to  subject  them  to  the  same  fate.  And  while 
 they  are  dependent  on  so  many  objects  for  the  continuance  of 
 their  lives,  they  are  dependent  on  a  still  greater  number  for  hap- 
 piness, and  for  the  success  of  their  enterprises.  Let  but  a  single 
 spark  fall  unheeded,  or  be  wafted  by  a  breath  of  air,  and  a  city, 
 which  it  has  cost  thousands  the  labors  of  njany  years  to  erect, 
 may  be  turned  to  ashes.  Let  the  wind  but  blow  from  one  point 
 rather  than  from  another,  and  the  hopes  of  the  inerchant  are 
 dashed  against  a  rock.  Let  but  a  little  more,  or  a  little  less, 
 than  the  usual  quantity  of  rain  descend,  and  in  the  latter  case 
 the  prospects  of  the  husbandman  are  blasted,  while,  in  the 
 other,  his  anticipated  harvest  perishes  beneath  the  clods,  or  is 
 swept  away  by  an  inundation.  But  in  vain  do  we  attempt  to 
 describe  the  extent  of  man's  dependence,  or  enumerate  all  the 
 objects  and  events  on  which  he  depends.  Yet  all  these  objects 
 and  events  are  under  the  control  of  Jeliovah.  Without  his  no- 
 tice and  appointment,  not  a  hair  falls  from  our  heads,  nor  a  spar- 
 row to  the  ground.  O  how  far  is  it,  then,  from  being  true,  that 
 man  is  not  dependent  on  God  ! 
 
 TO     THE  IMPENITENT. 
 
 My  friends,  God  offers  you  the  water  of  life,  without  money 
 and  without  price.  Every  one  may  come  and  take  it  if  he 
 will ;  and  is  not  this  sufficient?  Would  you  have  the  water  of 
 life  forced  upon  you  1  What  is  it  that  you  wish  1  My  friends, 
 I  will  tell  you  what  you  wish.  You  wish  to  live  as  you  please 
 here,  to  disobey  your  Creator,  to  neglect  your  Saviour,  to  fulfil 
 the  desires  of  the  flesh  and  of  the  mind  ;  and  at  death  to  be  ad- 
 mitted into  a  kind  of  sensual  paradise,  where  you  may  taste 
 again  the  same  pleasures  which  you  enjoyed  on  earth.  You 
 wish  that  God  should  break  his  word,  stain  his  justice,  purity 
 and  truth,  and  sacrifice  the  honor  of  his  law,  his  own  rightful 
 authority,  and  the  best  interests  of  the  universe,  to  the  gratifi- 
 cation of  your  own  sinful  propensities. 
 
 Look  back  to  those  who  have  passed  the  great  change  through 
 
GOD    ANGRY    WITH  SINNERS. 
 
 475 
 
 •w^hich  we  must  all  pass.  Think  of  the  patriarchs  who  died 
 before  the  flood.  They  have  been  perfectly  happy  for  more 
 than  four  thousand  years ;  yet  their  happiness  has  but  just 
 commenced.  Think  of  the  sinners  who  died  before  the  flood. 
 For  more  than  four  thousand  years  they  have  been  completely 
 wretched,  and  yet  their  misery  is  but  begun.  So  there  will  be 
 a  time  when  you  will  have  been  happy  or  miserable  four  thou- 
 sand years,  and  for  four  times  four  thousand  years,  and  yet 
 your  heaven  or  your  hell  will  even  then  be  but  beginning. 
 
 GOD    ANGRY    WITH  SINNERS. 
 
 "  God  is  angry  with  the  wicked  every  day."  Do  you  ask 
 why  he  is  angry  1  I  answer,  He  is  angry  to  see  rational,  im- 
 mortal, and  accountable  beings,  spending  twenty,  forty,  or  sixty 
 years  in  trifling  and  sin  ;  serving  divers  idols,  lusts  and  vanities, 
 and  living  as  if  death  were  an  eternal  sleep.  He  is  angry  to 
 see  you  forgetting  your  Maker  in  childhood,  in  youth,  in  man- 
 hood, making  no  returns  for  all  his  benefits,  casting  off"  his  fear, 
 and  restraining  prayer,  and  rebelling  against  him  who  has 
 nourished  and  brought  you  up  as  children.  He  is  angry  to  see 
 you  laying  up  treasures  on  earth,  and  not  in  heaven ;  seeking 
 every  thing  in  preference  to  the  one  thing  needful ;  loving  the 
 praise  of  men  more  than  the  praise  of  God ;  and  fearing  those 
 who  can  only  kill  the  body,  more  than  him  who  hath  power  to 
 cast  both  soul  and  body  into  hell.  He  is  angry  to  see  that  you 
 disregard  alike  his  threatenings  and  his  promises;  his  judg- 
 ments and  his  mercies ;  that  you  bury  in  the  earth  the  talents 
 he  has  given  you,  and  bring  forth  no  fruit  to  his  glory ;  that 
 you  neglect  his  word,  his  spirit  and  his  law,  and  perish  in  im- 
 peniiency  and  unbelief,  notwithstanding  all  the  means  employ- 
 ed for  your  conversion.  He  is  angry  to  see  you  come  before 
 him  as  his  people,  and  worship  him  with  your  hps,  while  your 
 thoughts  are  perhaps  wandering  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  He 
 is  angry  to  see  you  trusting  in  your  own  wisdom,  strength  and 
 righteousness  for  salvation,  instead  of  placing  your  dependence 
 on  Christ,  the  only  name  by  which  you  can  possibly  be  saved. 
 These  are  sins  of  which  every  person,  in  an  unconverted  state, 
 is  guilty  ;  and  for  these  things  God  is  angry,  daily  angry,  great- 
 ly and  justly  angry;  and  unless  his  anger  be  speedily  appeased, 
 it  will  most  certainly  prove  your  destruction. 
 
476 
 
 MOTIVES    TO  REPENTANCE. 
 
 LUKE    XV.  10. 
 
 God  now  commandeth  all  men,  every  where,  to  repent.  I  lay 
 this  command  across  your  path :  you  cannot  proceed  one  step 
 farther  in  a  sinful  course  without  treading  it  under  foot.  You 
 are  urged  to  the  immediate  performance  of  this  duty  by  a  re- 
 gard to  your  own  interest ;  for  except  ye  repent,  ye  shall  all 
 likewise  perish.  You  are  urged  to  it  by  all  the  blessed  angels, 
 Avho  are  waiting  with  a  desire  to  rejoice  in  your  conversion. 
 Above  all,  you  are  most  powerfully  urged  to  it  by  the  blessed 
 Redeemer,  whom  you  are  under  the  strongest  possible  obliga- 
 tions to  love  and  obey.  He  has  done  and  suffered  much  for 
 you.  For  you  he  has  toiled,  bled  and  died.  For  you  he  cheer- 
 fully endured  the  scoffs  and  cruelties  of  men ;  the  rage  and 
 malice  of  devils ;  and  the  overwhelming  weight  of  his  Father's 
 Avrath.  In  return  for  all  this,  he  asks  of  you  one  small  favor. 
 He  merely  requests  you  to  repent  and  be  happy.  If  you  com- 
 ply with  his  request,  he  will  see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul,  and 
 be  satisfied.  O,  then,  be  persuaded  to  give  joy  to  God,  to  his 
 Son,  and  to  the  holy  angels ;  to  make  this  day  a  festival  in 
 heaven,  by  repenting.  Even  now,  your  heavenly  Father  is 
 waiting  for  your  return,  and  the  Redeemer  stands  ready  with 
 expanded  arms  to  receive  you.  Even  now  the  white  robes  and 
 the  ring  are  provided,  and  the  fatted  calf  is  made  ready  to  feast 
 returning  prodigals.  Even  now,  angels  and  archangels  are 
 ready  to  pour  forth  their  most  joyful  songs  to  celebrate  your 
 return.  Will  you,  then,  by  persisting  in  impenitence,  seal  up 
 their  lips  ?  Will  you  say.  There  shall  be  no  joy  in  heaven,  this 
 day,  on  your  account  1  God  shall  not  be  glorified,  Christ  shall 
 not  be  gratified,  angels  shall  not  rejoice,  if  we  can  prevent  it  7 
 If  there  be  any  of  whose  feelings  and  conduct  this  is  the  lan- 
 guage, I  solemnly,  but  reluctantly  declare  unto  you,  in  the 
 name  of  Jehovah,  that  God  and  his  Son  shall  be  glorified,  and 
 there  shall  be  joy  over  you  in  heaven,  notwithstanding  all  your 
 endeavors  to  prevent  it.  Never  shall  any  of  his  creatures  rob 
 '  God  of  his  glory;  and,  if  you  will  not  consent  that  his  grace 
 shall  be  glorified  in  your  salvation,  he  will  be  compelled  to  glo- 
 rify his  justice,  in  your  everlasting  destruction.  If  you  will 
 not  allow  the  inhabitants  of  heaven  to  rejoice  in  your  repent- 
 ance, their  love  of  justice,  truth  and  holiness  will  constrain  them 
 
OBJECTIONS  ANSWERED. 
 
 477 
 
 to  rejoice  in  your  condemnation,  and  to  sing  alleluia,  while  the 
 smoke  of  your  torment  ascendeth  up  forever  and  ever. 
 
 OBJECTIONS    OF    SINNERS     TO    THE     GOSPEL  AN- 
 SWERED. 
 
 Suppose  that,  while  you  are  dying  of  a  fatal  disease,  a  medi- 
 cine of  great  reputed  efficacy  is  offered  you,  on  making  trial 
 of  which,  you  find  yourself  restored  to  health  and  activity. 
 Full  of  joy  and  gratitude,  you  propose  the  remedy  to  others, 
 afflicted  with  the  same  disease.  One  of  these  persons  replies  to 
 you,  "  I  am  surprised  that  you  place  so  much  faith  in  the  vir- 
 tues of  this  medicine.  How  do  you  know  that  it  was  really 
 discovered  by  the  person  whose  name  it  bears  7  Or,  even  if  it 
 were,  it  is  so  many  years .  ago,  and  the  medicine  has  passed 
 through  so  many  hands  since,  that  it  is  probably  corrupted,  or 
 perhaps  some  other  has  been  substituted  in  the  place  of  the 
 genuine  medicine."  Says  another,  "  It  may  not  be  suited  to  the 
 constitutions  of  men  in  this  age,  though  it  was  undoubtedly 
 useful  to  those  who  first  used  it."  "  The  disease  and  the  cure 
 are  both  equally  imaginary,"  says  a  third.  "There  are  many 
 other  remedies  of  equal  or  superior  efficacy,"  objects  a  fourth. 
 "  None  of  the  most  celebrated  physicians  recommend  it,"  re- 
 plies a  fifth ;  while  a  sixth  attempts  to  silence  you  by  objecting 
 to  the  phials  in  which  it  is  put  up,  and  repeating  that  boxes 
 would  have  been  more  suitable.  What  weight  would  all  these 
 objections  have  with  you  1  Would  ihey  induce  you  to  throw 
 away  the  healing  balm,  whose  effects  you  even  then  felt,  send- 
 ing life,  and  health,  and  vigor,  through  your  whole  frame? 
 Even  thus  may  infidels  and  cavillers  urge  objections  against  the 
 gospel  ;  but  the  Christian  heeds  them  not,  for  he  has  felt,  in  his 
 own  soul,  its  life-giving  power. 
 
 Will  you  say  there  are  no  real  stars,  because  you  sometimes 
 see  meteors  fall,  which  for  a  time  appeared  to  be  stars?  Will 
 you  say  that  blossoms  never  produce  fruit,  because  many  of  them 
 fall  off,  and  some  fruit,  which  appears  sound,  is  rotten  at  the 
 core?  Equally  absurd  is  it  to  say  there  is  no  such  thing  as  real 
 religion,  because  many  who  profess  it  fall  away,  or  prove  to  be 
 hypocrites  in  heart.  Or  will  you  say  that  a  medicine  does  no  good, 
 because,  though  it  removes  the  fever,  it  does  not  restore  the  pa- 
 
478 
 
 FOLLY    OF  OBJECTORS. 
 
 tient  to  perfect  strength  in  an  instant?  Equally  groundless  and 
 absurd  is  it  to  say  that  religion  does  not  make  its  possessors  bet- 
 ter, because  it  does  not,  in  a  moment,  make  them  perfect  as 
 the  angels  of  God. 
 
 The  many  false  and  counterfeit  appearances  which  we  meet 
 with,  instead  of  proving  that  there  is  no  religion  in  the  world, 
 not  only  prove  that  there  is,  but  that  it  is  extremely  precious ; 
 otherwise  it  would  not  be  counterfeited.  No  one  will  be  at  the 
 trouble  of  counterfeiting,  either  what  does  not  exist,  or  what  is 
 of  no  value.  No  one  will  make  false  stones,  or  false  dust,  though 
 many  make  false  pearls  and  diamonds.  If  there  were  no  real 
 money,  there  would  be  no  counterfeit;  and  so,  if  there  were  no 
 real  religion,  there  would  be  no  false  religion.  One  cannot  ex- 
 ist without  the  other  any  more  than  a  shadow  can  exist  without 
 a  substance  ;  and  he  who  rejects  all  religion,  because  hypocrites 
 sometimes  borrow  its  name  and  appearance,  acts  no  less  absurdly 
 than  he  who  throws  his  gold  or  jewels  into  the  fire,  because 
 gold  and  jewels  have  sometimes  been  counterfeited. 
 
 Surely,  if  Christianity  be  a  delusion,  it  is  a  blessed  delusion 
 indeed ;  and  he  wlio  attempts  to  destroy  it  is  an  enemy  to  man- 
 kind. It  is  a  delusion  which  teaches  us  to  do  justly,  love  mercy, 
 and  walk  humbly  with  our  God  ;  a  delusion  which  teaches  us 
 to  love  our  Maker  supremely,  and  our  neighbor  as  ourselves^  a 
 delusion  which  bids  us  love,  forgive,  and  pray  for  our  enemies, 
 render  good  for  evil,  and  promote  the  glory  of  God  and  the  hap- 
 piness of  our  fellow  creatures,  by  every  means  in  our  power;  a 
 delusion,  which,  wherever  it  is  received,  produces  a  humble, 
 meek,  charitable  and  peaceful  temper,  and  which,  did  it  univer- 
 sally prevail,  would  banish  wars,  vice  and  misery  from  the  world. 
 It  is  a  delusion  which  not  only  supports  and  comforts  its  believ- 
 ers in  their  wearisome  progress  through  this  vale  of  tears,  but 
 attends  them  in  death,  when  all  other  consolations  fail,  and  en- 
 ables them  to  triumph  over  sorrows,  sickness,  anguish  and  the 
 grave.  If  delusion  can  do  this,  in  delusion  let  me  live  and  die; 
 for  what  could  the  most  blessed  reality  do  more? 
 
 FOLLY  OF    REJECTING  THE  GOSPEL. 
 
 Shall  we  listen  to  men  when  God  speaks?   Shall  blind  and 
 
HUMAN  REASON. 
 
 479 
 
 Ignorant  worms  of  the  dust  pretend  to  know  what  God  will  do, 
 better  than  he  who  was  from  eternity  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father? 
 Hast  thou,  O  man,  Avhosoever  thou  art,  that  pretendest  that  the 
 words  of  Christ  are  unreasonable,  or  improbable,  or  false,  hast 
 thou  ascended  into  heaven,  or  descended  into  hell?  Hast  thou 
 measured  eternity  and  grasped  infinity?  Hast  thou  hj  search- 
 ing found  out  God?  Hast  thou  found  out  the  Almighty  unto 
 perfection?  Canst  thou  tell  me  more  of  him  than  can  the 
 Son  of  his  love,  in  whom  are  hid  all  the  treasures  of  wisdom 
 and  knowledge?  Does  the  dim  taper  of  thy  darkened  reason 
 shine  brighter  than  the  glorious  Sun  of  righteousness?  And  are 
 those  to  be  branded  as  fools  and  madmen,  who  choose  to  walk  in 
 his  light,  rather  than  to  be  led  by  a  mere  ignis  fatuus?  No ;  till 
 you  can  bring  us  a  teacher  superior  to  Christ,  who  is  the  wisdom 
 of  God;  till  you  can  show  us  a  man  who  has  weighed  the 
 mountains  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  and  meted  out  heaven 
 with  a  span;  who  has  lived  in  heaven  from  eternity;  and  can 
 prove  that  he  knows  more  than  Omniscience,  —  we  will,  we 
 must  cleave  to  Christ.  Here  is  a  rock.  All  is  sea  besides.  Nor 
 shall  the  unbelief  of  sinners  make  the  faith  of  God  without 
 effect;  for,  if  we  believe  not,  he  remains  faithful;  he  cannot 
 deny  himself. 
 
 INSUFFICIENCY    OF    HUMAN  REASON. 
 
 Viewed  through  any  other  medium  than  that  of  revelation, 
 man  is  a  riddle  which  man  cannot  expound ;  a  being  composed 
 of  inconsistencies  and  contradictions,  which  unassisted  reason 
 must  forever  seek  in  vain  to  reconcile.  In  vain  does  she  endeavor 
 to  ascertain  the  origin,  object  and  end  of  his  existence.  In  vain 
 does  she  inquire  in  what  his  duty  and  happiness  consist.  In 
 vain  does  she  ask  what  is  his  present  concern  and  future  desti- 
 nation. Wherever  she  turns  for  information,  she  is  soon  lost  in 
 a  labyrinth  of  doubts  and  perplexities,  and  finds  the  progress  of 
 her  researches  interrupted  by  a  cloud  of  obscurity  which  the 
 rays  of  her  feeble  lamp  are  insufficient  to  penetrate. 
 
 Suppose  you  should  see  a  man  carrying  a  little,  glimmermg 
 taper  in  his  hand  at  noonday,  with  his  back  turned  to  the  sun, 
 and  foolishly  endeavoring  to  persuade  himself  and  others  that 
 he  had  no  need  of  the  sun,  and  that  his  taper  gave  more  light 
 
480 
 
 NATURAL  RELIGION. 
 
 than  that  glorious  Luminary.  How  amazingly  great  wonid  be 
 his  folly  !  Yet  this  illustration  very  feebly  represents  the  folly 
 of  those  who  walk  in  the  sparks  of  their  own  kindling,  while 
 they  disregard  the  glorious  Sun  of  righteousness. 
 
 NATURAL  RELIGION. 
 
 I  know  that  those  who  hate  and  despise  the  religion  of  Jesus 
 because  it  condemns  their  evil  deeds,  have  endeavored  to  deprive 
 him  of  the  honor  of  communicating  to  mankind  the  glad  tid- 
 ings of  life  and  immortality;  I  know  that  they  have  dragged 
 the  mouldering  carcass  of  paganism  from  the  grave,  animated 
 her  lifeless  form  with  a  spark  stolen  from  the  sacred  altar,  ar- 
 rayed her  in  the  spoils  of  Christianity,  re-enlightened  her  extin- 
 guished taper  at  the  torch  of  revelation,  dignified  her  with  the 
 name  of  natural  religion,  and  exalted  her  in  the  temple  of  reason, 
 as  a  goddess,  able,  without  divine  assistance,  to  guide  mankind 
 to  truth  and  happiness.  But  we  also  know,  that  all  her  boasted 
 pretensions  are  vain,  the  offspring  of  ignorance,  wickedness  and 
 pride.  We  know  that  she  is  indebted  to  that  revelation  which 
 she  presumes  to  ridicule  and  condemn,  for  every  semblance  of 
 truth  or  energy  which  she  di-splays.  We  know  that  the  most 
 she  can  do,  is  to  find  men  blind  and  leave  them  so ;  and  to  lead 
 them  still  farther  astray,  in  a  labyrinth  of  vice,  delusion  and 
 wretchedness.  This  is  incontrovertibly  evident,  both  from  past 
 and  present  experience;  and  we  may  defy  her  most  eloquent 
 advocates  to  produce  a  single  instance,  in  which  she  has  en- 
 lightened or  reformed  mankind.  If,  as  is  often  asserted,  she  is 
 able  to  guide  us  in  the  path  of  truth  and  happiness,  why  has 
 she  ever  suffered  her  votaries  to  remain  a  prey  to  vice  and  igno- 
 rance? Why  did  she  not  teach  the  learned  Egyptians  to  abstain 
 from  worshipping  their  leeks  and  onions?  Why  not  instruct  the 
 polished  Greeks  to  renounce  their  sixty-thousand  gods?  Why 
 not  persuade  the  enlightened  Romans  to  abstain  from  adoring 
 their  deified  murderers  ?  Why  not  prevail  on  the  wealthy  Phoe- 
 nicians to  refrain  from  sacrificing  their  infants  to  Saturn?  Or, 
 if  it  was  a  task  beyond  her  power  to  enlighten  the  ignorant  mul- 
 titude, reform  their  barbarous  and  abomirable  superstitions,  and 
 teach  them  that  they  were  immortal  beings,  why  did  she  not, 
 at  least,  instruct  their  philosophers  in  the  great  doctrine  of  the 
 immortality  of  the  soul,  which  they  earnestly  labored  in  vain  to 
 
NATURAL  RELIGION. 
 
 481 
 
 discover?  They  enjoyed  the  hght  of  reason  and  natural  reh- 
 gion,  in  its  fullest  extent;  yet  so  far  were  they  from  ascertaining 
 the  nature  of  our  future  and  eternal  existence,  that  they  could 
 not  determine  whether  we  should  exist  at  all  beyond  the  grave; 
 nor  could  all  their  advantages  preserve  them  from  the  grossest 
 errors  and  most  unnatural  crimes. 
 
 What  would  you  say  of  a  man  who  should  throw  away  his 
 compass,  because  he  could  not  tell  why  it  points  to  the  north'? 
 or  reject  an  accurate  chart,  because  it  did  not  include  a  delinea- 
 tion of  coasts  which  he  never  expected  to  visit,  and  with  which 
 he  had  no  concern?  What  would  you  say  of  a  man  who  should 
 reject  all  the  best  astronomical  treatises,  because  they  do  not 
 describe  the  inhabitants  of  the  moon,  and  of  the  planets;  or 
 who  should  treat  with  contetnpt  every  book  which  does  not  an- 
 swer all  the  questions  that  may  be  asked  respecting  the  subject 
 of  which  it  treats?  Or,  to  come  still  nearer  to  the  point,  v/hat 
 would  you  say  of  a  man,  who,  when  sick  of  a  mortal  disease, 
 should  refuse  an  infallible  remedy,  unless  the  physician  would 
 first  tell  him  how  he  took  the  disease,  Tiow  such  diseases  first 
 entered  the  world,  why  they  were  permitted  to  enter  it,  and  by 
 what  secret  laws  or  virtues  the  offered  remedy  would  effect  his 
 cure?  Would  you  not  say,  a  man  so  unreasonable  deserves  to 
 die?  He  must  be  left  to  suffer  for  his  folly.  Now,  this  is  pre- 
 cisely the  case  of  those  who  neglect  the  Bible,  because  it  does 
 not  reveal  those  secret  things  which  belong  to  God.  Your  souls 
 are  assailed  by  fatal  diseases,  by  diseases  which  have  destroyed 
 millions  of  your  fellow  creatures,  which  already  occasion  you 
 much  suffering,  and  which,  you  are  assured,  will  terminate  in 
 death  unless  removed.  An  infallible  Physician  is  revealed  to 
 you,  in  the  Bible,  who  has,  at  a  great  expense,  provided  a  certain 
 remedy;  and  this  remedy  he  offers  you  freely,  without  money 
 and  without  price.  But  you  refuse  to  take  this  remedy,  because 
 he  does  not  think  it  necessary  to  answer  every  question  which 
 can  be  asked  respecting  the  origin  of  your  disease,  the  introduc- 
 tion of  such  diseases  into  the  world,  and  the  reasons  why  they 
 were  ever  permitted  to  enter  it.  Tell  me,  you  exclaim,  how  I 
 became  sick,  or  I  will  not  consent  to  be  well.  If  this  be  not  the 
 height  of  folly  and  madness,  what  is? 
 
 VOL.  I. 
 
 61 
 
482 
 
 PUNISHMENT    OF  SINNERS. 
 
 We  have  not  the  smallest  reason  to  suppose  that,  if  God  had 
 revealed  all  those  secret  things  which  belong  to  him,  it  would 
 have  made  it  more  easy  than  it  is  now,  to  know  and  perform 
 our  duty.  Suppose,  for  instance,  that  God  should  answer  all 
 the  questions  which  may  be  asked  respecting  the  origin  of  moral 
 evil,  and  its  introduction  into  the  world ;  would  this  knowledge 
 at  all  assist  us  in  banishing  evil  from  the  world,  or  from  our 
 own  bosoms  1  As  well  might  we  pretend  that  a  knoAvledge  of 
 the  precise  manner  in  which  a  man  was  killed  would  enable  us 
 to  restore  him  to  life.  Or,  should  God  inform  us  of  the  manner 
 in  which  divinity  and  humanity  are  united  in  the  person  of 
 Jesus  Christ,  would  this  knowledge  assist  us  in  performing  any 
 one  of  the  duties  we  owe  the  Saviour  ?  As  well  might  we 
 pretend  that  a  knowledge  of  the  manner  in  which  our  souls  are 
 united  to  our  bodies,  would  assist  us  in  performing  any  of  the 
 common  actions  of  hfe. 
 
 The  Bible  tells  us  that  an  enemy  came  and  sowed  tares. 
 Now,  if  any  man  chooses  to  go  farther  than  this,  and  inquire 
 where  the  enemy  got  the  tares,  he  is  welcome  to  do  so;  but  I 
 choose  to  leave  it  where  the  Bible  leaves  it.  I  do  not  wish  to 
 be  wise  above  what  is  written. 
 
 FATE    OF    THOSE    WHO    REJECT    THE  GOSPEL. 
 
 It  is  God's  invariable  rule  of  proceeding  to  deal  with  his 
 creatures,  in  some  measure,  as  they  deal  with  him.  Hence  we 
 are  told  that,  with  the  upright,  he  will  show  himself  upright; 
 with  the  merciful,  he  will  show  himself  merciful;  and  with  the 
 froward,  he  will  show  himself  froward.  When,  therefore,  per- 
 sons come  to  him  with  a  pretended  desire  to  know  their  duty, 
 but,  in  reality,  with  a  view  to  find  some  excuse  or  justification 
 for  their  errors  and  sins,  he  will  suffer  them,  as  a  punishment, 
 to  find  something  which  will  harden  them  in  their  wickedness. 
 Thus  he  will  suffer  the  obstinate  believer  in  universal  salvation, 
 to  deceive  himself  with  his  delusive  dreams,  till  he  wakes  in 
 torments.  He  will  suffer  the  proud,  self-righteous  opposer  of 
 his  gospel,  to  trust  in  his  moral  duties,  till  it  is  too  late  to  dis- 
 cover his  mistake.  He  will  suffer  the  self-deceived  hypocrite 
 to  please  himself  with  his  false  hopes  of  heaven,  till  he  finds 
 the  door  forever  shut  against  him.    All  these  persons  did,  in 
 
NO    PEACE    TO  SINNERS. 
 
 483 
 
 effect,  wish  to  be  deceived;  they  hated  the  light,  shut  their  eyes, 
 and  would  not -come  to  it;  they  leaned  to  their-own  under- 
 standings, instead  of  trusting  to  the  Lord;  they  never  prayed 
 him  to  keep  them  from  self-deception  and  from  false  paths;  they 
 chose  to  believe  Satan  rather  than  God,  and  therefore  are  justly 
 Jeft  to  feel  the  effects  of  it. 
 
 THE    WICKED,    LIKE    A    TROUBLED  SEA. 
 
 Ungoverned  passions  are  to  the  mind  what  winds  are  to  the 
 ocean,  and  they  often  throw  it  into  a  storm;  for,  in  such  a  world 
 as  this,  the  sinner  must  meet  with  many  things  which  are  cal- 
 culated to  rouse  them.  Sometimes  he  is  injured,  injured  perhaps 
 without  cause  or  provocation;  and  then  his  mind  is  agitated  by 
 revengeful  feelings.  Sometimes  he  sees  a  rival,  perhaps  an 
 unworthy  rival,  outstrip  him  in  the  race,  and  seize  the  prize 
 which  he  had  hoped  to  obtain;  and,  in  consequence,  envy, 
 mortification,  and  chagrin,  lie  gnawing  at  his  heart,  and  cause 
 the  greater  pain  because  he  is  obliged  to  conceal  them.  Often 
 he  meets  with  some  slight  affront  or  insult,  which  wounds  his 
 pride,  and  sets  his  angry  passions  in  a  flame,  like  Haman,  who 
 could  enjoy  nothing  because  Mordecai  refused  to  do  him  rev- 
 erence. In  addition  to  these  things,  he  is  daily  exposed  to  a 
 thousand  little  nameless  vexatious  occurrences,  which  tease,  and 
 fret,  and  harass  him,  rendering  his  mind  a  stranger  to  peace. 
 Often,  too,  his  mind  is  disturbed  by  its  own  workings,  without  any 
 assignable  cause.  He  feels  restless  and  unhappy,  he  can  scarcely 
 tell  why.  He  wants  something,  but  he  cannot  tell  what.  One 
 wave  of  troubled  thought  after  another,  comes  rolling  upon  his 
 mind,  and  he  cannot  say  with  the  Psalmist,  In  the  multitude  of 
 my  thoughts  within  me,  thy  comforts  delight  my  soul.  These 
 troublesome  thoughts,  and  tumultuous  workings  of  the  mind, 
 are  to  the  wicked  man  what  the  daily  flow  and  ebb  of  the  tide 
 are  to  the  ocean.  They  keep  it  in  agitation  even  when  the 
 waves  of  passion  cease  to  flow. 
 
 THOUGHTS    OF    GOD    PAINFUL    TO    THE  SINNER. 
 
 Sinners  do  not  Uke  to  retain  God  in  their  knowledge,  because 
 He  is  omniscient  and  omnipresent.  In  consequence  of  his  pos- 
 sessing these  attributes,  he  is  a  constant  witness  of  their  feelings 
 and  conduct,  and  is  perfectly  acquainted  with  their  hearts. 
 
484 
 
 SATAN    S  ARMOR, 
 
 This  must  reader  the  thoughts  of  his  hohness  still  more  disa- 
 greeable to  a  sinner,  for  wliat  can  be  more  unpleasant  to  such  a 
 character,  than  the  constant  presence  and  inspection  of  a  holy 
 being,  whom  he  cannot  deceive,  from  whose  keen,  searching 
 gaze  he  cannot  for  a  moment  hide,  to  whom  darkness  and  light 
 are  alike  open,  and  who  views  the  sinner's  conduct  with  the 
 utmost  displeasure  and  abhorrence?  Even  the  presence  of  our 
 fellow  creatures  is  disagreeable,  when  we  wish  to  indulge  any 
 sinful  propensity  which  they  will  disapprove.  The  slanderer, 
 the  profane  swearer,  the  drunkard,  the  debauchee  and  the 
 gamester  would  feel  the  presence  of  a  religious  inferior  to  be 
 irksome,  though  he  should  be  present  but  for  an  hour.  How 
 exceedingly  irksome,  then,  must  the  constant  presence  of  a  holy, 
 heart-searching  God  be  to  a  sinner  !  But  if  the  sinner  retains 
 a  knowledge  of  God,  he  must  feel  him  to  be  present.  No  wonder, 
 then,  that  sinners  banish  a  knowledge  of  him  from  their  minds, 
 as  the  easiest  method  of  freeing  themselves  from  the  restraint 
 imposed  by  his  presence. 
 
 Satan's  armor. 
 
 The  armor  with  which  Satan  furnishes  his  followers,  is  di- 
 rectly the  reverse  of  that  Christian  armor  described  by  the 
 apostle  Paul.  Instead  of  a  girdle  of  truth,  he  girds  the  sinner 
 with  the  girdle  of  error  and  deceit.  Instead  of  the  breastplate 
 of  Christ's  righteousness,  he  furnishes  him  with  a  breastplate  of 
 his  own  fancied  righteousness.  Instead  of  the  shield  of  faith, 
 the  sinner  has  the  shield  of  unbelief;  and  with  this  he  defends 
 himself  against  the  curses  of  the  law,  and  the  arrows  of  con- 
 viction. Instead  of  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  which  is  the  word 
 of  God,  he  teaches  them  to  wield  the  sword  of  a  tongue  set  on 
 fire  of  hell,  and  furnishes  them  with  a  magazine  of  cavils,  ex- 
 cuses, and  objections,  with  which  they  attack  religion,  and 
 defend  themselves.  He  also  builds  for  them  many  refuges  ol 
 lies,  in  which,  as  in 'a  strong  castle,  they  proudly  hope  to  shelter 
 themselves  from  the  wrath  of  God. 
 
 The  false  peace  and  security  in  which  smners  indulge,  instead 
 of  proving  their  safety,  is  only  a  further  evidence  of  their  dan- 
 ger. It  proves  that  the  strong  man  armed  is  not  disturbed  in 
 his  possessions,  but  that  he  keeps  them  in  peace. 
 
CONSCI  ENCE. 
 
 485 
 
 GROUNDS    OF    THE    SINNEE's  PEACE. 
 
 There  is,  perhaps,  scarcely  a  person  to  be  found,  who  does 
 not,  in  his  own  opinion,  exemplarily  perform  some  part  of  his 
 duty.  On  this  he  looks  with  no  small  degree  of  self-compla- 
 cency, and  flatters  himself  that  it  will  atone  for  all  obliquities 
 in  his  temper  and  conduct.  To  this  he  flies  for  refuge  whenever 
 conscience  reproves  his  deficiencies,  and,  instead  of  believing 
 the  apostolic  assertion,  that  if  a  man  shall  keep  the  whole  law, 
 and  yet  offend  in  one  point,  he  is  guilty  of  all,  seems  to  suppose 
 that  if  he  transgresses  the  whole  law,  and  yet  obeys  one  precept^ 
 he  is  guiltless.  1  have  met  with  a  person  who,  though  guilty 
 of  almost  every  crime  which  could  disgrace  her  sex,  thanked 
 God,  with  much  apparent  self-gratulation,  that  she  was  not  a 
 thief;  and  who  evidently  imagined  that  her  abstaining  from  this 
 one  vice  would  secure  her  from  the  displeasure  of  heaven. 
 
 CONSCIENCE. 
 
 Conscience  is  God's  vicegerent  in  the  soul,  and  though  sinners 
 may  stupefy  and  sear,  they  cannot  entirely  silence  or  destroy  it. 
 At  times,  this  unwelcome  monitor  will  awake,  and  then  her 
 reproaches  and  threatenings  are,  above  all  things,  terrible  to  the 
 sinner.  During  the  day,  while  he  is  surrounded  by  thoughtless 
 companions,  or  wholly  engrossed  by  worldly  pursuits,  he  may 
 contrive  to  stifle,  or  at  least  to  disregard,  her  voice ;  but  at  night, 
 and  upon  his  bed,  when  all  is  silent  around  him,  when  darkness 
 and  solitude  compel  him  to  attend  to  his  own  reflections,  the 
 case  is  different.  Then  an  awakened  conscience  will  be  heard. 
 Then  she  arraigns  the  sinner  at  her  bar,  tries,  convicts,  and 
 condemns  him,  and  threatens  him  with  the  punishment  which 
 his  sins  deserve.  In  vain  does  he  endeavor  to  fly  from  her  tor- 
 turing scourge,  or  to  find  refuge  in  sleep.  Sleep  flies  from  him. 
 One  sin  after  another  rises  to  his  view,  and  the  load  of  con- 
 scious guilt,  which  oppresses  him,  becomes  more  and  more 
 heavy,  till,  like  the  impious  Belshazzar,  when  he  saw  the  mys- 
 terious handwriting  upon  the  wall,  the  joints  of  his  loins  are 
 loosed,  and  his  knees  smite  one  against  the  other.  He  finds 
 that  something  must  be  done.  He  has  heard  that  prayer  is  a 
 duty,  and  he  attempts  to  pray.  He  utters  a  few  half-formed 
 cries  for  mercy,  makes  a  few  i-nsincere  resolutions,  and  promises 
 
486 
 
 A    WOUNDED  SPIRIT. 
 
 of  amendment;  and  having  thus,  in  some  measure,  quieted  the 
 reproaches  of  his  conscience,  he  falls  asleep.  In  the  morning 
 he  wakes,  rejoiced  to  see  once  more  the  cheerful  light;  the  res- 
 olutions and  promises  of  the  night  are  forgotten,  he  again  spends 
 the  day  in  folly  and  sin,  and  at  night  retires  to  his  bed,  again 
 to  be  scourged  by  conscience  for  breaking  his  resolutions,  again 
 to  quiet  her  reproaches  by  insincere  prayers  and  promises,  and 
 again  to  break  these  promises  when  the  light  returns. 
 
 There  is  a  season,  and  often,  perhaps,  more  than  one,  in  the 
 life  of  almost  every  person  who  hears  the  gospel  faithfully 
 preached,  in  which  it  affects  him  more  than  ordinarilJ^  Some- 
 tliing  Uke  light  appears  to  shine  into  his  mind,  which  enables 
 him  to  discover  objects  previously  unseen  or  unnoticed.  While 
 this  light  continues  to  shine,  he  feels  a  much  more  full  and 
 strong  conviction  of  the  truth  of  the  Bible,  and  of  the  reality 
 and  importance  of  religion,  than  he  ever  felt  before.  He  sees, 
 with  more  or  less  clearness,  that  he  is  a  sinner ;  that,  as  such, 
 he  is  exposed  to  God's  displeasure ;  and  that,  unless  some  means 
 can  be  found  to  avert  that  displeasure,  he  is  undone.  After 
 such  means,  he  is,  therefore,  very  inquisitive.  He  reads  the 
 Bible  more  frequently  and  carefully,  becomes  a  more  diligent, 
 attentive  and  interested  hearer  of  the  gospel,  is  fond  of  converse 
 ing  on  religious  subjects,  and  perhaps  attempts  to  pray  for  mer- 
 cy. Christ  stands  at  the  door  of  his  heart,  and  knocks  for 
 admittance.  With  a  person  in  this  situation,  he  is  as  really, 
 though  not  as  visibly,  present,  as  he  was  with  the  Jews,  when 
 he  said,  Yet  a  little  while  is  the  light  with  you. 
 
 A    WOUNDED    SPIRIT    WHO    CAN  BEAR, 
 
 One  reason  why  the  anguish  of  a  wounded  spirit  is  more 
 intolerable  than  any  other  species  of  suffering,  is,  that  it  is 
 impossible  to  obtain  the  smallest  consolation  or  relief  under  it. 
 This  can  scarcely  be  said,  with  truth,  of  any  other  species  of 
 suffering  to  which  mankind  are  liable.  If  they  lose  friends, 
 they  have  usually  other  friends  to  sympathize  with  them,  and 
 assist  in  repairing  their  loss.  If  they  lose  property,  they  may 
 hope  to  regain  it,  or,  if  not,  their  losses  cannot  be  always  pres- 
 ent to  their  mind,  and  many  sources  of  enjoyment  are  still  open 
 to  them.    If  they  are  afflicted  with  painful  diseases,  they  can 
 
A  WOUNDED  SPIRIT. 
 
 487 
 
 usually  obtain,  at  least,  temporary  relief  from  medicine,  and 
 receive  some  consolation  from  the  sympalliy  of  their  friends. 
 In  all  cases,  they  can,  for  a  time,  lose  their  sorrows  in  sleep, 
 and  look  forward  to  death  as  the  termination  of  their  troubles. 
 l)\iL  very  different  is  the  situation  of  one  who  suffers  the  anguish 
 of  a  wounded  spirit.  He  cannot  fly'  from  his  misery,  for  it  is 
 witlnn;  Nor  can  he  forget  it,  for  it  is  every  moment  present  to 
 his  mind.  Nor  can  he  divert  his  attention  from  it,  for  it  enga- 
 ges his  thoughts,  in  defiance  of  all  endeavors  to  fix  them  on  any 
 other  objects.  Nor  can  he  derive  consolation  from  any  friends  or 
 temporal  blessings  he  may  possess,  for  every  thing  is  turned  to 
 poison  and  bitterness,  and  the  very  power  of  enjoyment  seems 
 to  be  taken  from  him.  Nor  can  he  even  lose  his  sorrows  in 
 sleep,  for  sleep  usually  flies  from  a  wounded  spirit,  or,  if  obtain- 
 ed, it  is  disturbed  and  unrefreshing.  Hence  the  exclamation  of 
 Job,  When  I  say,  My  bed  shall  comfort  me,  my  couch  shall  ease 
 my  complaint ;  then,  thou  scarest  me  with  dreams,  andterrifiest 
 nie  through  visions. 
 
 Look  which  way  it  will  for  relief,  the  wounded  spirit  can 
 discover  nothing  but  aggravations  of  its  wretchedness.  If  it 
 looks  within,  it  finds  nothing  but  darkness,  and  tempest  and 
 despair.  If  it  looks  around  on  its  temporal  possessions,  it  sees 
 nothing  but  gifts  of  God  which  it  has  abused,  and  for  its  abuse 
 of  which  it  must  give  a  terrible  account.  If  it  looks  back,  it 
 t^ees  a  life  spent  in  neglect  of  God,  and  ten  thousand  sins,  fol- 
 lowing it  as  accusers  to  the  judgment-seat.  If  it  looks  forward, 
 it  sees  that  judgment-seat  to  which  it  must  come,  and  where  it 
 expects  nothing  but  a  sentence  of  final  condemnation.  If  it 
 looks  up,  it  sees  that  God  who  is  wounding  it,  and  whose  anger 
 seems  to  search  it  like  fire ;  and  if  it  looks  downward,  it  sees 
 the  gulf  which  awaits  its  fall.  Not  even  to  death  can  it  look 
 forward  as  the  termination  of  its  miseries,  for  it  fears  that  its 
 miseries  will  then  receive  a  terrible  increase.  True,  there  is 
 one  object  to  which  it  might  look  for  relief,  and  find  it.  It  might 
 look  to  the  Saviour,  the  great  Physician,  and  obtain  not  only  a 
 cure  for  its  wounds,  but  everlasting  life.  But  to  him  it  will  not 
 look,  till  its  impenitence  and  unbelief  are  subdued  by  sovereign 
 grace. 
 
438 
 
 UNWILLINGNESS    TO    BE  SAVED. 
 
 SINNER'S    UNWILLINGNESS    TO     GO    TO  CHRIST. 
 
 The  sinner  tries  every  place  of  refuge  before  he  will  enter  the 
 ark  of  safety.  He  is  hke  a  person  exposed  to  the  storm  and 
 tempest,  for  whom  a  place  of  safety  is  provided,  which  he  is 
 unwilling  to  enter.  He  flies  from  one  place  of  fancied  security 
 to  take  refuge  in  another.  The  storm  increases ;  one  hiding- 
 place  after  another  is  swept  away,  till,  at  length,  exposed,  with- 
 out a  shelter,  to  the  raging  storm,  he  is  glad  to  flee  to  the  refuge 
 provided  for  him. 
 
 Suppose  an  apparently  strong  and  healthy  man  should  apply 
 tn  you  for  relief,  and,  when  asked  why  he  did  not  labor  for  his 
 subsistence,  should  reply,  Because  I  can  find  no  one  to  employ 
 me.  If  you  wished  to  know  whether  this  or  indolence  were 
 the  true  reason,  you  would  oflTer  him  employment ;  and  if  he 
 then  refused  to  labor,  you  would  feel  satisfied  that  he  was  sloth- 
 ful and  undeserving  of  your  charity.  So,  when  God  puts  into 
 the  hands  of  sinners  a  price  to  get  wisdom,  and  they  do  not 
 improve  it,  it  becomes  evident  that  they  do  not  wish,  that  they 
 are  not  willing,  to  become  rehgious. 
 
 EXCUSES    OF    THE    SINNER  ANSWERED. 
 
 Numerous  as  are  the  excuses  which  sinners  make  when  urged 
 to  embrace  the  gospel,  they  may  all  be  reduced  to  three ;  the 
 first  is,  that  they  have  no  time  to  attend  to  religion  ;  the  second 
 is,  that  they  do  not  know  how  to  become  religious ;  and  the 
 third,  that  they  are  not  able  to  become  so.  Want  of  time,  want 
 of  knowledge,  or  want  of  power,  is  pleaded  by  all.  Foreseeing 
 that  they  would  make  these  excuses,  God  determined  that  they 
 should  have  no  reason  to  make  them.  By  giving  them  the 
 Sabbath,  he  has  allowed  them  time  for  religion.  By  giving 
 them  his  word,  and  messengers  to  explain  it,  he  has  taken  away 
 the  excuse  of  ignorance  ;  and  by  offering  them  the  assistance 
 of  his  Holy  Spirit,  he  has  deprived  them  of  the  pretence  that 
 they  are  unable  to  obey  him.  Thus  he  has  obviated  all  their 
 excuses ;  and  therefore,  at  the  last  day,  every  mouth  will  be 
 stopped,  and  the  whole  impenitent  world  will  stand  guilty  and 
 self-condemned  before  God. 
 
 The  convinced  sinner  wishes  to  be  saved  ;  but  then  he  would 
 
PEACE    IN  BELIEVING. 
 
 489 
 
 be  his  own  saviour.  He  will  not  consent  to  be  saved  by  Christ. 
 He  cannot  bear  to  come  as  a  poor,  miserable,  self-condemned 
 sinner,  and  throw  himself  on  the  mere  mercy  of  Christ;  but  he 
 wants  to  purchase  heaven  ;  to  give  so  many  good  deeds,  as  he 
 calls  them,  for  so  much  happiness  hereafter.  He  goes  on  to  mul- 
 tiply his  religious  duties,  and,  with  great  diligence,  makes  a 
 robe  of  his  own  righteousness,  with  which  he  hopes  to  cover 
 his  moral  nakedness,  and  render  himself  acceptable  in  the  sight 
 of  God.  In  vain  is  he  told  that  all  his  righteousness  is  as  filthy 
 rags ;  that  he  is  daily  growing  worse,  rather  than  better ;  that 
 eternal  life  can  never  be  purchased.  He  will  stop  here,  as  thou- 
 sands have  done  before,  resting  on  this  foundation,  having  the 
 form  of  Godliness,  but  denying  the  power,  unless  the  Spirit  of 
 God  continue  to  strive  with  him,  and  complete  the  work  by  show- 
 ing him  his  own  heart. 
 
 THE     KNOWLEDGE     OF    CHRIST     BRINGS    PEACE  TO 
 THE  SINNER. 
 
 Even  a  knowledge  of  the  divine  perfections,  if  it  could  have 
 been  obtained  without  Christ,  would  only  have  driven  us  to 
 despair,  as  it  did  our  guilty  first  parents  ;  for  out  of  Christ,  God 
 is  a  consuming  fire.  The  convinced  sinner  looks  at  the  great- 
 ness of  God,  and  says.  How  can  he  stoop  to  notice  a  being  so 
 insignificant  as  myself?  He  looks  at  his  holiness,  and  says, 
 God  cannot  but  hate  me  as  a  vile,  polluted  sinner.  He  looks 
 at  his  justice,  and  says,  God  must  condemn  me,  for  I  have  bro- 
 ken his  righteous  law.  He  looks  at  his  truth,  and  cries,  God  is 
 not  a  man  that  he  should  he  ;  he  must  execute  his  threatenings 
 and  destroy  me.  He  looks  at  God's  immutability,  and  says. 
 He  is  in  one  mind,  and  who  can  turn  him  7  He  will  never 
 change:  he  will  always  be  my  enemy.  He  looks  at  his  power 
 and  wisdom,  and  says,  I  can  neither  resist  nor  deceive  him.  He 
 looks  at  his  eternity  and  exclaims.  It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall 
 into  the  hands  of  the  living  God.  Thus  do  all  the  divine  per- 
 fections become  so  many  sources  of  terror  and  dismay  to  the 
 convinced  sinner.  But  no  sooner  does  he  obtain  a  knowledge 
 of  Christ,  than  his  fears  vanish.  The  divine  perfections  no 
 longer  forbid  him  to  hope  for  mercy,  but  encourage  him  to  do 
 it.  Instead  of  the  thunders  of  the  law,  he  hears  the  compas- 
 sionate voice  of  Christ  saying,  Be  of  good  cheer,  my  blood 
 
 VOL.  I,  62 
 
490 
 
 PEACE    IN  BELIEVING. 
 
 cleanseth  from  all  sin ;  thy  sins,  which  are  many,  are  forgiven. 
 He  feels  boldness  to  enter  into  the  holiest  of  all  through  the 
 blood  of  Jesus,  and  exclaims  with  the  apostle.  Being  jusiified 
 by  faith,  we  have  peace  with  God  through  our  Lord  Jesus 
 Christ.  Such  are  the  blessed  elfects  which  St.  Paul  experien- 
 ced from  a  knowledge  of  Christ,  and  which  every  true  believer 
 experiences.  Can  we  then  wonder,  that,  in  comparison  with  it, 
 they  count  all  things  but  loss. 
 
 THE     CONVINCED     SINNER     BELIEVINGIN  CHRIST. 
 
 When  a  convinced,  guilty  sinner,  who  feels  condemned  by 
 the  law  of  God  and  his  own  conscience,  and  fears  the  sentence 
 of  eternal  condemnation  from  the  mouth  of  his  Judge  hereafter, 
 hears  and  believes  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation,  they  cause  hope 
 in  the  mercy  of  God  to  spring  up  in  his  anxious,  troubled  breast. 
 He  says  to  himself,  I  am  a  miserable,  guilty  creature.  I  have 
 rebelled  against  my  Creator,  broken  his  law,  and  thus  exposed 
 myself  to  its  dreadful  curse.  How,  then,  can  I  escape  from  this 
 curse,  which  threatens  to  plunge  me  in  eternal  ruin  1  Can  I 
 call  back  the  idle  words  I  have  uttered,  the  sinful  desires  I  have 
 indulged,  the  wicked  actions  I  have  committed,  the  time  I  have 
 wasted,  the  precious  privileges  and  opportunities  I  have  misim- 
 proved  1  No.  Can  I  wash  away  the  guilt  of  these  sins  from 
 my  troubled  conscience,  or  blot  out  the  black  catalogue  of  them 
 which  is  written  in  the  book  of  God's  remembrance?  No.  Can 
 I  make  any  satisfaction  or  atonement  for  them,  to  appease  my 
 justly-offended  God  1  No.  Even  should  I  be  perfectly  obedi- 
 ent in  future,  still  this  will  not  blot  out  my  past  sins.  Besides, 
 I  find  that  I  daily  commit  new  sins  :  so  that,  instead  of  dimin- 
 ishing, I  increase  my  guilt.  What,  then,  can  I  do?  Where 
 can  I  turn?  On  what  can  I  build  any  hope  of  mercy?  Why 
 should  God  pardon  me,  and  give  me  heaven,  when  I  have  done, 
 and  still  do  nothing  but  provoke  him  !  What  can  I,  what  must 
 I  do  to  be  saved  ?  The  gospel  indeed  says,  Believe  on  the  Lord 
 Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved.  It  tells  me  that  though 
 my  sins  be  of  a  crimson  color  and  scarlet  dye,  yet  if  I  forsake 
 them,  and  turn  unto  the  Lord,  he  will  abundantly  pardon. 
 Why  should  not  I  believe  in  Christ,  as  well  as  others  ?  His 
 blood  cleanseth  from  all  sin.  But  perhaps  I  am  too  great  a 
 sinner  to  be  saved.    Yet  the  gospel  assures  me  that  Christ  came 
 
EFFECTS    OF    CONVERSION.  491 
 
 to  save  the  chief  of  sinners.  Why,  then,  should  I  doubt  ? 
 Why  should  I  not  believe?  I  must,  1  will,  I  can,  I  do  believe; 
 Lord^  help  thou  mine  unbelief. 
 
 EFFECTS    OF  CONVERSION. 
 
 When  a  man  stands  with  his  back  to  the  sun,  his  own  shadow 
 and  the  shadows  of  surrounding  objects  are  before  him.  But  when 
 he  turns  towards  the  sun,  all  these  shadows  are  behind  him.  It 
 is  the  same  in  spiritual  things.  God  is  the  great  Sun  of  the 
 universe.  Compared  with  him,  creatures  are  but  shadows.  But 
 while  men  stand  with  their  backs  to  God,  all  these  shadows  are 
 before  them,  and  engross  their  affections,  desires  and  exertions. 
 On  the  contrary,  when  they  are  converted,  and  turn  to  God,  all 
 these  shadows  are  thrown  behind  them,  and  God  becomes  all  iu 
 all,  so  that  they  can  say  from  the  heart,  Whom  have  we  in  heav- 
 en but  thee  7  and  there  is  none  on  earth  that  we  desire  besides 
 thee. 
 
 The  effect  produced  on  a  sinner  who  is  brought  from  darkness 
 into  God's  marvellous  light,  may  be  illustrated  in  the  following 
 manner.  The  Scriptures  teach  us  that  angels  are  continually 
 present  in  our  world,  and  employed  in  executing  the  designs  of 
 God.  Being  spirits,  they  are  of  course  invisible  to  mortal  eyes. 
 Hence  Ave  are  unconscious  of  their  presence,  and,  therefore  are 
 not  affected  by  it.  Now,  suppose,  —  for  the  supposition  involves 
 no  impo-ssibility,  —  that  God  should  impart  to  any  one  of  our 
 race  the  power  of  seeing  these  active  and  benevolent  spirits.  It 
 is  evident  that  this  power  would  occasion  a  great  change  in  the 
 conduct  and  feelings  of  that  man.  He  would  see  angels,  where 
 other  persons  could  see  nothing.  He  would  be  interested  by 
 the  sight;  he  would  wish  to  form  an  acquaintance  with  these 
 newly-discovered  beings;  he  would  frequently  speak  of  them, 
 of  their  employments  and  pursuits.  Of  course  he  would  no 
 longer  be  like  other  men  ;  he  would  become,  in  one  sense,  a  new- 
 creature,  and  the  angels  would  appear  to  him  so  much  more 
 interesting  than  other  objects,  that  his  attention  would  be  much 
 diverted.  Hence  he  would  be  thought  a  visionary  or  a  distract- 
 ed man.  Now,  the  light  of  divine  truth  does  not  make  angels 
 visible,  but  it  makes  the  Lord  of  angels,  the  Father  of  spirits, 
 in  some  sense,  visible ;  it  makes  him,  at  least,  a  reality  to  the 
 
492 
 
 EFFECTS    OF  CONVERSION. 
 
 mind,  or,  in  the  language  of  Scripture,  it  enables  men  to  feel 
 and  act  as  if  they  saw  Him  who  is  invisible.  It  brings  God 
 into  the  circle  of  objects  by  which  we  perceive  ourselves  to  be 
 surrounded;  and  in  whatever  circle  he  is  seen,  he  will  be  seen 
 to  be  the  most  important  object  in  it.  Now,  if  the  sight  of  an- 
 gels would  effect  a  change  in  a  man's  character,  much  more  will 
 seeing  the  infinite  God.  His  favor  will  appear  all  important, 
 his  anger  dreadful ;  all  other  objects  will,  in  a  measure,  lose 
 their  interest,  and  the  man  will  be  thought  deluded,  or  visionary, 
 or  distracted. 
 
 Suppose  a  man  engaged  in  some  enterprise,  for  the  success  of 
 which  he  is  exceedingly  desirous.  He  is  surrounded,  we  will 
 suppose,  by  a  number  of  persons  who  have  it  in  their  power, 
 either  to  aid  or  oppose  his  designs.  Knowing  this,  he  will  of 
 course,  make  it  his  great  object  to  secure  their  co-operation ;  or, 
 at  least,  to  induce  them  not  to  oppose  him.  Now,  suppose 
 another  person  to  be  introduced  into  the  circle  around  him,  pos- 
 sessed of  far  greater  power  than  any  or  all  of  these  united,  to 
 aid  or  oppose  his  designs.  This  circumstance  Avill  produce  a 
 great  alteration  in  his  views  and  feelings.  It  will  now  be  his 
 great  object  to  secure  the  assistance  of  this  new  and  more  pow- 
 erful personage;  and  if  he  can  obtain  this,  he  will  neither  desire 
 the  aid  nor  fear  the  opposition  of  others.  To  apply  this  to  the 
 case  of  a  sinner,  livhig  without  God,  in  the  world.  He  desires 
 to  be  happy,  and,  for  this  purpose,  to  obtain  those  worldly  ob- 
 jects which  he  deems  necessary  to  happiness.  He  finds  himself 
 surrounded  by  creatures,  who  have  power  either  to  aid  or  op- 
 pose him  in  procuring  these  objects.  Of  course,  his  principal 
 aim  is,  to  avoid  their  opposition,  and  secure  their  friendship  and 
 assistance.  Now,  suppose  this  man  to  begin  to  realize  that  there 
 is  a  God;  a  being  who  superintends,  directs,  and  governs  all 
 creatures  and  events;  who  can  make  him  happy  without  their 
 assistance,  or  render  him  miserable,  in  defiance  of  all  their  en- 
 deavors to  prevent  it.  Will  not  the  introduction  of  such  a  being 
 into  the  circle  around  him,  produce  a  great  alteration  in  his  plans, 
 his  views,  and  feelings?  Before  this,  he  regarded  creatures  as 
 every  thing.  Now,  they  will  appear  comparatively  as  nothing. 
 Before,  God  was  nothing  to  him.    Now  he  will  be  all  in  all. 
 
SELF  CONFIDENCE. 
 
 493 
 
 THE  SELF-CONFIDENT. 
 
 We  many  who  bid  high,  and  seem  to  promise  fair  for 
 heaven.  They  set  out  as  if  they  would  carry  all  before  them, 
 and  say  to  Christ's  people  as  Orpah  did  to  her  mother-in-law, 
 Surely  we  will  go  with  you.  For  a  time  they  appear  to  run 
 well.^  Like  a  flower  plucked  from  its  stalk,  and  placed  in  wa- 
 ter, they  look  fair  and  flourishing.  Many  of  their  sins  seem  to 
 be  subdued,  md  many  moral  and  religious  duties  are  diligently 
 practised.  But  at  length  a  day  of  trial  comes.  Temptations 
 assault  them;  the  world  opposes  them;  the  sins  which  seemed  to 
 be  dead  revive;  the  eflect  of  novelty  wears  off";  the  tumult  of 
 their  feelings  subsides;  their  little  stock  of  zeal,  and  strength, 
 and  resolution,  is  exhausted;  and  they  have  never  learned  to 
 apply  to  Christ  for  fresh  supplies.  Then  it  appears  that  they 
 had  no  root  in  themselves.  They  begin  to  wither.  Their  blos- 
 soms fall  olf  without  producing  fruit.  They  first  grow  weary, 
 then  faint,  then  utterly  fall. 
 
 He  depended  on  himself,  and  not  on  Christ,  on  his  own  prom- 
 ises and  resolutions,  and  not  on  God's.  Hence,  when  his  own 
 stock  fails,  as  fail  it  must,  he  has  nothing.  Every  one  knows 
 that  no  stream  can  rise  higher  than  its  fountain  head.  It  is  the 
 same  in  religion  —  the  stream  that  is  to  rise  as  high  as  heaven, 
 must  have  its  fountain  head  in  heaven.  It  must  flow  from  that 
 river  of  life  which  issues  out  of  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the 
 Lamb,  and  from  that  river  it  must  be  fed,  or  it  will  dry  up. 
 
 If,  with  a  careful  and  enlightened  eye,  we  trace  the  path  of 
 a  numerous  church,  we  shall  find  it  strewed  with  the  fallen,  the 
 fainting,  the  slumbering,  and  the  dead,  who  set  out  in  their  own 
 strength,  and  have  been  stopped,  ensnared  and  overthrown,  by 
 various  obstacles  and  enemies. 
 
 CHRISTIANS  DISSIMILAR. 
 
 We  must  not  expect  that  all  persons  will  see  the  truths  of  reli- 
 gion with  equal  distinctness,  or  feel  an  equal  degree  of  joy,  on 
 being  first  brought  from  darkness  into  God's  marvellous  light. 
 While  some  pass  in  a  moment  from  the  deepest  distress  and  an- 
 guish, to  the  most  rapturous  emotions  of  joy  and  gratitude,  oth- 
 ers are  introduced  so  gradually  into  the  kingdom,  that  they  are 
 
494 
 
 TESTS    OF  PIETY. 
 
 hardly  able  to  tell  when  they  entered  it.  The  subject  may  be 
 illustrated  by  the  different  views  and  emotions  which  would  be 
 excited  in  three  blind  persons,  of  whom  one  should  be  restored 
 to  sight  at  midnight,  another  at  dawn,  and  a  third  amid  the 
 splendors  of  the  meridian  sun.  The  first,  although  his  sight 
 might  be  as  perfectly  restored  as  that  of  the  others,  woidd  yet 
 doubt,  for  some  time,  whether  any  change  had  been  effected  in 
 him,  and  tremble,  lest  the  faint  outlines  of  the  objects  around 
 him,  wliich  he  so  indistinctly  discovered,  should  prove  to  be  the 
 creations  of  his  own  fancy.  The  second,  although  he  might, 
 at  first,  feel  almost  assured  of  the  change  which  had  been 
 wrought  upon  him,  would  yet  experience  a  gradually-increasing 
 confidence  and  hope,  as  the  light  brightened  around  him,  while 
 the  third,  upon  whose  surprised  and  dazzled  vision  burst  at  once 
 the  refulgence  of  mid-day,  would  be  transported,  bewildered, 
 and  almost  overwhelmed,  with  the  excess  of  surprise,  and  joy, 
 and  gratitude. 
 
 DIFFERENCE    BETWEEN    THE   CHRISTIAN   AND  THE 
 SINNER. 
 
 Suppose  you  have  a  child  who  frequently  disobeys  your  com- 
 mands, and  neglects  the  duties  which  you  require  of  him,  yet, 
 if  this  neglect  and  disobedience  seem  to  proceed  from  thought- 
 lessness, rather  than  from  a  rebellious  disposition;  if  he  appears 
 sincerely  penitent,  and  every  day  comes  and  tells  you,  with 
 tears  in  his  eyes,  "Father,  1  love  you;  I  am  sorry  that  I  have 
 done  wrong;  I  am  ashamed  of  myself,  and  wonder  that  you 
 have  patience  to  bear  with  me,  and  that  you  do  not  disinherit 
 me;"  —  you  would  love  and  forgive  such  a  child,  and  feel  that 
 there  was  hope  of  his  reformation.  But  should  your  child  say, 
 or  could  you  read  the  feeling  in  his  heart,  "Father,  I  cannot 
 love  you;  I  have  never  felt  one  emotion  of  love  towards  you; 
 and  I  have  no  wish  to  obey  your  commands;"  would  you  not 
 say,  his  case  is  hopeless;  there  is  nothing  for  me  to  work  upon 
 —  no  feeling,  no  affection,  no  desire  to  do  right. 
 
 Suppose  you  wished  to  separate  a  quantity  of  brass  and  steel 
 filings,  mixed  together  in  one  vessel,  how  would  you  effect  this 
 separation?  Apply  a  loadstone,  and  immediately  every  particle 
 of  iron  will  attach  itself  to  it,  while  the  brass  remains  behind. 
 
FEAR     AND  HOPE. 
 
 495 
 
 Thus  if  we  see  a  company  of  true  and  false  professors  of  reli- 
 gion, we  may  not  be  able  to  distinguish  between  them;  but  let 
 Christ  come  among  them,  and  all  his  sincere  followers  will  be 
 attracted  towards  him,  as  the  steel  is  drawn  to  the  magnet,  while 
 those  who  have  none  of  his  spirit,  will  remain  at  a  distance. 
 
 Suppose  we  perceive  a  number  of  children  playing  together 
 in  the  street,  we  could  not,  without  previous  knowledge,  deter- 
 mine who  are  their  parents,  or  where  are  their  homes.  But  let 
 one  of  them  receive  an  injury,  or  get  into  any  trouble,  and  we 
 learn  who  are  his  parents,  for  he  immediately  runs  to  them  for 
 relief  Thus  it  is  with  the  Christian  and  the  man  of  the  world. 
 While  we  observe  them  together,  pursuing  the  same  employ- 
 ments, and  placed  in  the  same  circumstances,  we  may  not  be 
 able  at  once  to  distingiush  them.  But  let  afflictions  come  upon 
 them  and  we  are  no  longer  at  a  loss;  the  man  of  the  world  seeks 
 relief  in  earthly  comforts,  while  the  Christian  flies  to  his  heav- 
 enly Father,  his  refuge  and  support  in  the  day  of  trouble. 
 
 FEAR    AND  HOPE. 
 
 True  religion  consists  in  a  proper  mixture  of  fear  of  God,  and 
 of  hope  in  his  mercy  ;  and  wherever  either  of  these  is  entirely 
 wanting,  there  can  be  no  true  religion.  God  has  joined  these 
 things,  and  we  ought  by  no  means  to  put  them  asunder.  He 
 cannot  take  pleasure  in  those  who  fear  him  with  a  slavish  fear, 
 without  hoping  in  his  mercy,  because  they  seem  to  consider  him 
 as  a  cruel  and  tyrannical  being,  who  has  no  mercy  or  goodness 
 in  his  nature;  and,  besides,  they  implicitly  charge  him  with  false- 
 hood, by  refusing  to  believe  and  hope  in  his  invitations  and  olfers 
 of  mercy.  On  the  other  hand,  he  cannot  be  pleased  with  those 
 who  pretend  to  hope  in  his  mercy  without  fearing  him  ;  for  they 
 insult  him  by  supposing  that  there  is  nothing  in  him  which  ought 
 to  be  feared ;  and  in  addition  to  this,  they  make  him  a  liar,  by 
 disbelieving  his  awful  threatenings  denounced  against  sinners, 
 and  call  in  question  his  authority,  by  refusing  to  obey  him. 
 Those  only  who  both  fear  him  and  hope  in  his  mercy,  give  him 
 the  honor  that  is  due  to  his  name. 
 
496 
 
 THE    LAW  HONORED. 
 
 THE  LAW   HONORED  IN  THE    SALVATION    OF  THE 
 SINNER. 
 
 That  the  gospel  method  of  justification  by  faith  in  Christ  se- 
 cures the  honor  of  the  law,  will  appear  evident  if  we  considei 
 the  views  and  feelings  v/hicli  it  requires  of  all  who  would  bo 
 justified  and  saved  by  this  method.  These  views  and  feelings, 
 taken  collectively,  are  called  repentance  and  faith.  Repentance 
 consists  in  hatred  of  sin,  and  sorrow  on  account  of  it.  But  sin 
 is  a  transgression  of  the  law.  ,  The  penitent  then  hates  and 
 mourns  for  every  transgression  of  the  law  of  which  he  has  been 
 guilty.  But  no  man  can  sincerely  hate  and  mourn  over  his 
 transgressions  of  any  law,  unless  he  sees  and  feels  that  it  is  a 
 just  and  good  law.  If  he  does  not  see  this,  if  the  law  which 
 he  has  transgressed  appears  in  his  view  unjust,  or  not  good,  he 
 will  hate  and  condemn,  not  himself,  but  the  law  and  the  law- 
 maker. Every  real  penitent  then  sees  and  acknowledges  that 
 the  law  which  he  has  violated,  is  holy,  and  just,  and  good  and 
 glorious;  that  he  is  justly  condemned  by  it,  and  that  he  should 
 have  no  reason  to  complain  of  God,  if  he  were  left  to  perish 
 forever.  He  can  say,  I  deserve  the  curse,  and  let  no  one  ever 
 think  hardly  of  God,  or  of  his  law,  though  I  should  perish  for- 
 ever. And  can  those  who  exercise,  or  those  who  inculcate  such- 
 feeUngs  as  these,  be  justly  accused  of  making  void,  or  of  dis- 
 honoring the  law?  Do  they  not  rather  honor  and  establish  it, 
 by  taking  part  with  it  against  themselves,  by  saying,  the  law  is 
 right,  and  we  only  are  wrong?  To  place  this  in  a  still  clearer 
 light,  permit  me  to  throw  into  the  form  of  a  dialogue,  the  feel- 
 ings which  a  penitent,  believing  sinner  exercises  and  expresses, 
 when  he  applies  to  Christ  to  be  justified  or  pardoned.  Let  us 
 suppose  the  Saviour  to  say  to  such  a  person,  as  he  did  to  those 
 who  applied  to  him  for  relief,  while  on  earth,  What  wilt  thou 
 that  I  should  do  for  tliee?  Save  me.  Lord,  from  my  sins,  and 
 from  the  punishment  which  they  deserve.  In  what  do  thy  sins 
 consist?  They  consist,  Lord,  in  numberless  transgressions  of 
 God's  law.  Is  that  law  unjust?  Lord,  it  is  most  just.  Why, 
 then,  didst  thou  transgress  it  ?  Because,  O  Lord,  my  heart  was 
 rebellious  and  perverse.  Canst  thou  offer  no  excuse,  no  plea  of 
 extenuation  of  thy  sins?  None,  Lord;  I  am  altogether  with- 
 out excuse,  nor  do  I  wish  to  offer  any.  Is  not  the  punishment 
 with  which  thou  art  threatened  too  severe?    No,  Lord,  I  do- 
 
THE    LAW  HONORED. 
 
 497 
 
 serve  it  all ;  nor  can  I  escape  it  but  through  thy  rich  mercy  and 
 sovereign  grace.  Such  is,  in  effect,  the  language  of  every  one 
 who  applies  to  Christ  for  salvation  ;  such  the  feelings  implied  in 
 the  exercise  of  repentance  and  faith. 
 
 The  gospel  method  of  justification  sets  before  us  new  and  pow- 
 erful motives  to  obey  the  law.  For  instance,  it  presents  God, 
 the  Lawgiver,  in  a  new,  and  most  interesting  and  affecting 
 light.  It  shows  him  to  us  as  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord 
 .lesus  Christ,  displaying  the  most  wonderful  compassion  for  our 
 lost  and  guilty  race,  and  so  loving  our  revolted  world,  as  to  give 
 his  only  begotten  Son  to  die  for  its  offences.  Of  all  the  attitudes 
 in  which  God  was  ever  revealed  to  his  creatures,  this  is  incom- 
 parably the  most  interesting  and  affecting.  It  is  indeed  inter- 
 esting to  view  him  as  our  Creator,  our  Sovereign,  our  Preserver 
 and  Benefactor ;  and  we  are  sacredly  bound  to  regard  Him,  in 
 these  characters,  with  gratitude,  reverence  and  love.  But  how- 
 much  more  interesting  to  see  him  pitying  the  sorrows  which, 
 our  sins  against  Him  had  brought  upon  us,  and  taking  his  only 
 Son  out  of  his  bosom,  to  give  him  up  as  a  ransom  to  redeem  us 
 from  those  sorrows  !  If  God  said  to  Abraham,  Now  1  know 
 that  thou  lovestme,  seeing  thou  hast  not  withheld  thy  son,  thine 
 oaiy  son,  from  me,  well  may  we  say  to  God,  Lord,  now  we 
 know  that  thou  lovest  us,  that  thou  dost  not  willingly  punish  us, 
 that  thou  hast  no  pleasure  in  our  death,  since  thou  hast  given 
 thy  Son,  thine  only  and  well-beloved  Son,  to  die  on  the  cross 
 for  our  sins.  Thus  the  gospel  method  of  salvation  by  revealing 
 God  to  us  in  this  most  interesting  and  affecting  light,  powerful- 
 ly urges  us  to  love  him,  to  love  his  law,  to  repent  of  having 
 disobeyed  it,  and  to  obey  it  hereafter. 
 
 Suppose  human  legislators  could  write  their  laws  upon  the 
 liearts  of  their  subjects.  Would  they  not  then  secure  obedience 
 far  more  effectually  than  they  can  now  do,  by  all  the  penalties 
 which  they  annex  to  a  violation  of  their  laws?  If  they  could  give 
 all  their  subjects  a  disposition  to  abhor  murder,  theft,  injustice  and 
 fraud,  would  they  not  secure  life  and  property  in  the  most  per- 
 fect manner?  Just  so,  if  the  law  of  God  can  be  written  in 
 men's  hearts,  if  his  love  can  be  shed  abroad  in  them,  if  they 
 
 VOL.  1.  G3 
 
498 
 
 ADAM    OUR  REPRESENTATIVE. 
 
 can  be  made  holy,  it  will  secure  obedience  to  that  law  far  more 
 effectually  than  all  the  thunders  and  lightnings  of  Sinai. 
 
 ADAM     OUR  REPRESENTATIVE. 
 
 It  is  sometimes  asked,  how  it  can  be  right  that  we  should 
 suffer  in  consequence  of  the  sins  of  our  first  parents.  In  the 
 first  place,  it  is  right  because  we  imitate  their  example,  and 
 thus  justify  their  conduct.  We  break  the  covenant,,  and  dis- 
 obey the  law  of  God,  as  well  as  they.  Another  answer  may  be 
 given  by  considering  the  subject  in  a  different  light.  The  angels 
 who  kept  not  their  first  estate,  had  no  covenant  head  or  repre- 
 sentative, but  each  one  stood  for  himself  Yet  they  fell.  God 
 was  therefore  pleased,  when  he  made  man,  to  adopt  a  different 
 constitution  of  things  ;  and  since  it  had  appeared  that  holy  be- 
 ings, endowed  with  every  possible  advantage  for  obeying  God's 
 law,  would  disobey  it  and  ruin  themselves,  he  thought  proper, 
 instead  of  leaving  us,  like  the  angels,  to  stand  for  ourselves,  to 
 appoint  a  covenant  head  or  representative  to  stand  for  us,  and 
 to  enter  into  covenant  with  him.  Now,  let  us  suppose  for  a 
 moment,  that  we,  and  all  the  human  race,  had  been  brought 
 into  existence  at  once,  and  that  God  had  proposed  to  us,  that 
 we  should  choose  one  of  our  number  to  be  our  representative, 
 and  to  enter  into  covenant  with  him  on  our  behalf  Should  we 
 not,  with  one  voice,  have  chosen  our  first  parent  for  this  respon- 
 sible office?  Should  we  not  have  said,  "  He  is  a  perfect  man, 
 and  bears  the  image  and  likeness  of  God  ]  If  any  one  must 
 stand  or  fall  for  us,  let  him  be  the  man."  Now,  since  the 
 angels,  who  stood  for  themselves,  fell,  why  should  we  wish  to 
 stand  for  ourselves?  And  if  we  must  have  a  representative  to 
 stand  for  us,  why  should  we  complain,  when  God  has  chosen 
 the  same  person  for  this  office,  that  we  should  have  chosen,  had 
 •we  been  in  existence,  and  capable  of  choosing  for  ourselves? 
 
 CHRIST    OUR  REPRESENTATIVE. 
 
 Christ  "  bore  our  sins  "  in  the  same  sense  in  which  the  Jew- 
 ish sacrifices,  under  the  law,  were  said  to  bear  the  sins  of  him 
 in  whose  behalf  they  were  presented.  The  lamb  which  was 
 offered,  did  not  itself  become  a  sinner ;  and  as  little  did  Christ, 
 our  great  Sacrifice,  become  sinful  by  bearing  our  sins.  When, 
 ther^fjre,  it  is  said  that  God  laid  on  him  the  iniquities  of  us  ail, 
 
PSALM     LXXXV.    10,  11. 
 
 499 
 
 and  that  he  bore  our  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree,  the 
 meaning  is,  that  God  laid  on  him,  and  that  he  bore  the  punish- 
 ment which  our  sins  deserved.  Our  sins  were,  by  his  own  con- 
 sent, imputed  to  him,  or  as  the  word  signifies,  laid  to  his  ac- 
 count :  and  he,  in  consequence,  though  innocent,  was  treated  as 
 a  sinner. 
 
 PSALM  LXXXV.  10,  11. 
 
 It  is  a  maxim  in  divine,  as  well  as  in  human  laws,  that  what 
 a  man  does  by  another,  he  does  by  himself.  Now,  in  and  by 
 Christ,  their  surety,  all  who  believe  have  done  and  suffered 
 every  thing  which  the  divine  law,  and  consequently  which  jus- 
 tice, required.  In  him,  they  have  obeyed  the  law  perfectly,  in 
 him,  they  have  suffered  the  curse  which  is  due  to  sin.  He  was 
 made  sui  for  them,  they  are  made  righteous  in  him  ;  and  thus 
 he  is  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteousness  to  every  one  that  be- 
 lipveth.  The  law  of  God  is  more  highly  honored  by  the  obedi- 
 ence, and  the  justice  of  God  more  clearly  displayed  in  the 
 sufferings,  of  so  exalted  a  personage,  than  they  could  have  been 
 by  the  obedience  or  the  sufferings  of  the  whole  human  race. 
 Then,  in  the  plan  of  redemption,  God  appears  to  be,  at  once,  a 
 just  God  and  a  Saviour;  thus  he  can  be  just  and  yet  the  justi- 
 ficr  of  him  that  believeth  in  Jesus ;  and  justice  and  truth,  as 
 well  as  mercy  and  peace,  will  welcome  to  heaven  every  redeemed 
 sinner  who  is  brought  there  through  the  merits  of  Christ.  Thus 
 we  see  that  these  divine  attributes,  which  were  set  at  variance 
 by  the  fall  of  the  first  Adam,  are  re-united  and  satisfied  by  the 
 atonement  of  the  second.  Mercy  may  now  say,  I  am  satisfied, 
 for  my  petitions  in  behalfof  wretched  man  have  been  answered, 
 and  countless  millions  of  that  ruined  race  will  sing  the  praises 
 of  boundless  mercy  forever  and  ever.  Truth  may  say,  I  am 
 satisfied,  for  God's  veracity  and  faithfulness  remain  inviolate, 
 notwithstanding  the  salvation  of  sinners ;  and  not  one  word 
 that  he  has  ever  spoken,  has  failed  of  its  full  accomplishment. 
 Justice  may  say,  I  am  satisfied,  for  the  honor  of  the  law  over 
 which  I  watch,  has  been  secured ;  sin  has  met  with  deserved 
 punishment;  the  Prince  of  life  has  died  to  satisfy  my  claims; 
 and  God  has  shown  the  whole  universe  that  he  loves  me,  even 
 better  than  he  loves  his  only  Son  ;  for  when  that  Son  cried,  in 
 agony,  Father,  spare  me,  and  I  demanded  that  he  should  not  be 
 
 V 
 
500 
 
 GROUNDS    OF  PARDON. 
 
 spared,  God  listened  to  my  demands  rather  than  to  his  cries. 
 Finally,  Peace  may  say,  I  am  satisfied,  for  I  have  been  permit- 
 ted to  proclaim  peace  on  earth,  and  have  seen  God  reconciling 
 a  rebellions  world  to  himself.  Come,  then,  my  sister  attribntes, 
 Mercy,  Truth  and  Righteousness,  let  us  once  more  be  united  in 
 perfec  harmony,  and  join  to  admire  the  plan  which  thus  recon- 
 ciles us  to  each  other. 
 
 SINNERS    PARDONED    FOR    CHRIST's  SAKE. 
 
 It  was  highly  proper  that  the  unexampled  benevolence,  hu- 
 mility, and  other  graces  which  Christ  displayed  in  condescend- 
 ing to  obey,  suffer  and  die,  in  our  stead,  should  receive  from  his 
 righteous  Father  a  suitable  reward ;  and  that  God  should  man- 
 ifest, in  a  signal  and  illustrious  manner,  his  approbation  of 
 such  unequalled  goodness,  to  all  his  intelligent  creatures.  But 
 the  Son  of  God  neither  needed,  nor  could  receive  any  reward 
 for  himself;  for  he  is  the  brightness  of  the  Father's  glory,  and 
 the  express  image  of  his  person,  and  possesses  in  the  highest 
 degree,  all  possible  perfection,  glory,  and  felicity.  Since,  there- 
 fore, it  was  necessary  that  Christ  should  be  rewarded,  and  since 
 he  needed  no  reward  for  himself,  his  Father  was  pleased,  in  the 
 covenant  of  redemption,  to  promise  him  what  would  be  to  his 
 benevolent  heart  the  greatest  of  all  rewards.  He  promised  him 
 that  if  he  would  make  his  soul  an  offering  for  sm,  he  should 
 have  a  seed  and  people  to  serve  him ;  and  that  all  his  spiritual 
 seed,  all  his  chosen  people,  who  were  given  him  by  his  Father, 
 should,  for  his  sake,  and  as  a  reward  of  his  obedience,  suffering 
 and  death,  be  saved  from  the  guilt  and  power  of  sin,  be  adopt- 
 ed as  the  children  of  God,  made  joint  heirs  with  Christ  of  the 
 heavenly  inheritance,  and  receive,  through  him,  every  thing 
 necessary  to  prepare  and  qualify  them  for  its  enjoyment.  Thus 
 God  bestows  everlasting  life,  glory  and  felicity  on  guilty  rebels, 
 merely  for  the  sake  of  Christ,  and  with  a  view  to  convince  all 
 intelligent  beings,  that  he  is  infinitely  well  pleased  with  the 
 holy  benevolence  which  his  Son  displayed,  when  he  consented 
 to  die  in  their  stead. 
 
 PERFECTIONS    OF    GOD    DISPLAYED    IN    THE  PLAN 
 OF  REDEMPTION. 
 
 There  is  more  of  God,  more  of  his  essential  glory  displayed 
 
PLAN     OF  REDEMPTION. 
 
 601 
 
 in  bringing  one  sinner  to  repentance,  and  forgiving  his  sins,  than 
 in  all  the  wonders  of  creation.  In  this  work,  creatures  may  see, 
 if  I  may  so  express  it,  the  very  heart  of  God.  From  this  work, 
 angels  themselves  have  probably  learned  more  of  God's  moral 
 character  than  they  had  ever  been  able  to  learn  before.  They 
 knew  before  that  God  was  wise  and  powerful ;  for  Ihey  had 
 seen  him  create  a  world.  They  knew  that  he  was  good  ;  for  he 
 had  made  them  perfectly  holy  and  happy.  They  knew  that  he 
 was  just ;  for  they  had  seen  him  cast  down  their  own  rebellious 
 brethren  from  heaven  to  hell  for  their  sins.  But  until  they  saw 
 him  give  repentance  and  remission  of  sins  through  Christ,  they 
 did  not  know  that  he  was  merciful ;  they  did  not  know  that  he 
 could  pardon  a  sinner.  And  O  !  what  an  hour  was  that  in 
 heaven  when  this  great  truth  was  first  made  known  ;  when  the 
 first  penitent  was  pardoned  !  Then  a  new  song  was  put  into 
 the  mouths  of  angels ;  and  while,  with  unutterable  emotions  of 
 wonder,  love,  and  praise,  they  began  to  sing  it,  their  voices 
 swelled  to  a  higher  pitch,  and  they  experienced  joys  unfelt  be- 
 fore. O  how  did  the  joyful  sounds,  His  mercy  endureth  forev- 
 er, spread  from  choir  to  choir,  echo  through  the  high  arches  of 
 heaven,  and  thrill  through  every  enraptured  angelic  breast;  and 
 how  did  they  cry,  with  one  voice,  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest, 
 on  earth  peace,  and  good  will  to  man  ! 
 
 On  no  page  less  ample  than  that  of  the  eternal,  all-enfolding 
 mind  which  devised  the  gospel  plan  of  salvation,  can  its  glories 
 be  displayed ;  nor  by  any  inferior  mind  can  they  be  fully  compre- 
 hended. Suffice  it  to  say,  that  here  the  moral  character  of  Jeho- 
 vah shines  full-orbed,  and  complete — here  all  the  fulness  of  the 
 Godhead,  all  the  insufferable  splendors  of  Deity  burst,  at  once, 
 upon  our  aching  sight.  Here  the  manifold  perfections  of  God, 
 holiness  and  goodness,  justice  and  mercy,  truth  and  grace,  maj- 
 esty and  condescension,  hatred  of  sin  and  compassion  for  sin- 
 ners, are  harmoniously  blended,  like  the  party-colored  rays  of 
 solar  hght,  in  one  pure  blaze  of  dazzling  whiteness — here,  rath- 
 er than  on  any  other  of  his  works,  he  founds  his  claims  to  the 
 highest  admiration,  gratitude,  and  love  of  his  creatures — here 
 is  the  work  which  ever  has  called  forth,  and  which  through 
 t'fernity  will  continue  to  call  forth,  the  most  rapturous  praises 
 of  the  celestial  choirs,  and  feed  the  ever-glowing  fires  of  devo- 
 
602 
 
 THE    WORLD    W I T H O U T  C H  R I S T  . 
 
 tion  in  their  breasts ;  for  the  glory  which  shines  in  the  gospel, 
 is  the  glory  which  illuminates  heaven,  and  the  Lamb  that  was 
 slain  is  the  light  thereof. 
 
 CONDITION    OF  THE    WORLD    WITHOUT    A  SAVIOUR. 
 
 Would  you  learn  the  full  extent  of  that  wretchedness  which 
 sin  tends  to  produce,  you  must  follow  it  into  the  eternal  world 
 and  descend  into  those  regions  where  peace,  where  hope  never 
 comes ;  and  there,  by  the  light  of  revelation,  behold  sin  tyran- 
 nizing over  its  wretched  victims  with  uncontrollable  fury ;  fan- 
 ning the  inextinguishable  fire,  and  sharpening  the  tooth  of  the 
 immortal  worm.  See  angels  and  archangels,  thrones  and  do- 
 minions, principalities  and  powers,  stripped  of  all  their  prime- 
 val glory  and  beauty,  bound  in  eternal  chains,  and  burning 
 with  rage  and  malice  against  that  Being,  in  whose  presence 
 they  once  rejoiced,  and  whose  praises  they  once  sung.  See 
 multitudes  of  the  human  race,  in  unutterable  agonies  of  anguish 
 and  despair,  cursing  the  gift,  the  Giver  and  Prolonger  of  their 
 existence,  and  vainly  wishing  for  annihilation,  to  put  a  period 
 to  their  miseries.  Follow  them  through  the  long,  long  ages  of 
 eternity,  and  see  them  sinking  deeper  and  deeper  in  the  bottom- 
 less abyss  of  ruin,  perpetually  blaspheming  God  because  of 
 their  plagues,  and  receiving  the  punishment  of  these  blasphe- 
 mies in  continued  additions  to  their  wretchedness.  Such  are 
 the  wages  of  sin ;  such  the  doom  of  the  finally  impenitent 
 From  these  depths  of  anguish  and  despair,  look  up  to  the  man- 
 sions of  the  blessed,  and  see  to  what  a  height  of  glory  and  fe- 
 licity the  grace  of  God  will  raise  every  sinner  that  repentcih. 
 See  those  who  are  thus  favored  in  unutterable  ecstasies  of  joy, 
 love  and  praise,  contemplating  God,  face  to  face,  reflecting  his 
 perfect  image,  shining  with  a  splendor  hke  that  of  their  glorious 
 Redeemer,  filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  Deity,  and  bathing  in 
 those  rivers  of  pleasure  which  flow  forever  at  God's  right  hand. 
 Follow  them  in  their  endless  flight  towards  perfection.  See 
 them  rapidly  mounting  from  height  to  height,  darting  onward 
 with  increasing  swiftness,  and  unwearied  wing,  towards  that 
 infinity  which  they  will  never  reach.  View  this,  and  then  say 
 whether  infinite  holiness  and  benevolence  may  not,  with  pro- 
 priety, rejoice  over  every  sinner  that  repenteth. 
 
THE    GOSPEL    GLAD  TIDINGS. 
 
 503 
 
 Do  any  doubt  whether  the  gospel  is  indeed  glad  tidings  of 
 great  joy  ?  Come  with  me  to  the  garden  of  Eden.  Lool<  back 
 to  the  hour  which  succeeded  man's  apostasy.  See  the  goldea 
 chain  which  bound  man  to  God,  and  God  to  man,  sundered, 
 apparently  forever,  and  this  wretched  world,  groaning  under 
 the  weight  of  human  guilt,  and  its  Maker's  curse,  sinking 
 down,  far  down,  into  a  bottomless  abyss  of  misery  and  despair. 
 See  that  tremendous  Being  who  is  a  consuming  fire,  encircling  it 
 on  every  side,  and  wrapping  it,  as  it  were,  in  an  atmosphere  of 
 flame.  Hear  from  his  lips  the  tremendous  sentence,  Man  has 
 sinned,  and  man  must  die.  See  the  king  of  terrors  advancing 
 with  gigantic  strides  to  execute  the  awful  sentence,  the  grave 
 expanding  )ier  marble  jaws  to  receive  whatever  might  fall  be- 
 fore his  vvide- wasting  scythe,  and  hell  beneath,  yawning  dread- 
 ful, to  engulf  forever  its  guilty,  helpless,  despairing  victims. 
 Such  was  the  situation  of  our  ruined  race  after  the  apostasy. 
 Endeavor,  if  you  can,  to  realize  its  horrors.  Endeavor,  to  for- 
 get, for  a  moment,  that  you  ever  heard  of  Christ  or  his  gospel 
 View  yourselves  as  immortal  beings  hastening  to  eternity,  with 
 the  curse  of  God's  broken  law,  like  a  flaming  sword,  pursuing 
 you ;  death,  with  his  dart  dipped  in  mortal  poison,  awaiting 
 you ;  a  dark  cloud,  fraught  with  the  lightnings  of  divine  ven- 
 geance, rolling  over  your  heads  ;  your  feet  standing  in  slippery 
 places,  in  darkness,  and  the  bottomless  pit  beneath  expecting 
 your  fall.  Then,  when  not  only  all  hope,  but  all  possibility  of 
 escape,  seemed  taken  away,  suppose  the  flaming  sword  sudden- 
 ly quenched;  the  sting  extracted;  the  sun  of  righteousness 
 bursting  forth  and  painting  a  rainbow  on  the  before  threatening 
 cloud  ;  a  golden  ladder  let  down  from  the  opening  gates  of  heav- 
 en, while  a  choir  of  angels,  swiftly  descending,  exclaim.  Be- 
 hold, we  bring  you  glad  tidings  of  great  joy,  for  unto  you  is 
 born  a  Saviour,  who  is  Christ  the  Lord.  Would  you,  could  you, 
 while  contemplating  such  a  scene,  and  listening  to  the  angelic 
 message,  doubt  whether  it  communicated  glad  tidings?  Would 
 you  not  rather  unite  with  them  in  exclaiming.  Glad  tidings! 
 Glad  tidings !  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  that  there  is  peace 
 on  earth,  and  good  will  to  men  ? 
 
 CHRIST     OUR  EXAMPLE. 
 
 It  was  highly  important  and  desirable  that  our  great  High 
 
604 
 
 CHRIST    OUR  EXAMPLE. 
 
 Priest  should  not  only  obtain  for  us  the  heavenly  inheritancp 
 but  also  go  before  us,  in  the  path  which  leads  to  it ;  that  he 
 should  not  only  describe  Christianity  in  his  discourses,  but  ex- 
 emplify it  in  his  life  and  conversation.  This  our  blessed  Sa- 
 viour has  done.  In  him  we  see  pure  and  undefiled  religion 
 imbodied.  In  him  Christianity  lives  and  breathes.  And  how 
 amiable,  how  interesting  does  she  there  appear !  How  convinc- 
 ing, how  animating  is  our  Saviour's  example  !  How  loudly, 
 how  persuasively  does  his  conduct  preach !  Would  you  learn 
 submission  to  parental  authority?  See  him,  notwithstanding 
 his  exalted  character,  cheerfully  subjecting  himself  to  the  will 
 of  his  parents,  and  laboring  with  them,  as  a  mechanic,  for 
 almost  thirty  years.  Would  you  learn  contentment  with  a  poor 
 and  low  condition  7  See  him  destitute  of  a  place  where  to  lay  his 
 head.  Would  you  learn  active  beneficence  1  See  him  going  about 
 doing  good.  Would  you  learn  to  be  fervent  and  constant  in  de- 
 votional exercises  7  See  him  rising  for  prayer  before  the  dawn 
 of  day.  Would  you  learn  in  what  manner  to  treat  your  breth- 
 ren 7  See  him  washing  his  disciples'  feet.  Would  you  learn  filial 
 piety  7  See  him  forgetting  his  sufferings,  while  in  the  agonies 
 of  death,  to  provide  another  son  for  his  desolate  mother.  Would 
 you  learn  in  what  manner  to  pray  for  relief  under  afflictions  7 
 See  him  in  the  garden.  Would  you  learn  how  to  bear  insults 
 and  injuries  7  See  him  on  the  cross.  In  short,  there  is  no 
 Christian  grace  or  virtue,  which  it  was  proper  for  a  perfectly 
 innocent  being  to  possess,  which  is  not  beautifully  exemplified 
 in  his  life  ;  and  there  is  scarce  any  situation,  however  perplex- 
 ing, in  which  the  Christian,  who  is  at  a  loss  to  know  how  he 
 ought  to  act,  may  not  derive  sufficient  instruction  from  the  ex- 
 ample of  his  divine  Master. 
 
 CHRTST    A  TEACHER. 
 
 A  celebrated  philosopher  of  antiquity,  who  was  accustomed 
 to  receive  large  sums  from  his  pupils,  in  return  for  his  instruc- 
 tions, was  one  day  accosted  by  an  indigent  youth,  who  requested 
 admission  into  the  number  of  his  disciples.  "And  what,"  said 
 the  sage,  "will  you  give  me  in  return?  "I  will  give  you  my- 
 self," was  the  reply.  "  I  accept  the  gift,"  answered  the  sage, 
 "and  engage  to  restore  you  to  yourself,  at  some  future  period, 
 much  more  valuable  than  you  are  at  present."    In  similar  Ian- 
 
REASONS    FOR    LOVING    CHRIST.  505 
 
 guage  does  our  great  Teacher  address  those  who  apply  to  him 
 for  instruction,  conscious  that  they  are  unable  to  purchase  his 
 instructions,  and  offering  to  give  him  themselves.  He  will 
 readily  accept  the  gift ;  he  will  educate  them  for  heaven,  and 
 will,  at  length,  restore  them  to  themselves,  incomparably  more 
 wise,  more  happy,  and  more  valuable,  than  when  he  received 
 them. 
 
 SONG    OF    SOLOMON,    V.  9. 
 
 Does  not  our  Friend  as  far  excel  all  other  friends,  as  heaven 
 exceeds  earth,  as  eternity  exceeds  time,  as  the  Creator  surpasses 
 his  creatures  ?  If  you  doubt  this,  bring  together  all  the  glory, 
 pomp  and  beauty  of  the  world ;  nay,  assemble  every  thing  that 
 is  great  and  excellent  in  all  the  worlds  that  ever  were  created ; 
 collect  all  the  creatures  which  the  breath  of  Omnipotence  ever 
 summoned  into  being — and  we,  on  our  parts,  will  place  beside 
 them  our  Saviour  and  Friend,  that  you  may  see  whether  they 
 will  bear  a  comparison  with  him.  Look,  then,  first  at  your 
 idols ;  behold  the  vast  assemblage  which  you  have  collected, 
 and  then  turn  and  contemplate  our  Beloved.  See  all  the  fulness 
 of  the  Godhead,  dwelling  in  one  who  is  meek  and  lowly  as  a 
 child.  See  his  countenance  beaming  with  ineffable  glories,  full 
 of  mingled  majesty,  condescension  and  love,  and  hear  the  soul- 
 reviving  invitations  which  proceed  from  his  lips.  See  that  hand 
 in  which  dwells  everlasting  strength,  swaying  the  sceptre  of 
 universal  empire  over  all  creatures  and  all  worlds  ;  see  his  ahns 
 expanded  to  receive  and  embrace  returning  sinners,  while  his 
 heart,  a  bottomless,  shoreless  ocean  of  benevolence,  overflows 
 with  tenderness,  compassion,  and  love.  In  a  word,  see  in  him 
 all  natural  and  moral  excellence,  personified,  and  embodied  in 
 a  resplendent  form,  compared  with  whose  effulgent,  dazzling 
 glories,  the  splendors  of  the  meridian  sun  are  dark.  He  speaks, 
 and  a  world  emerges  from  nothing.  He  frowns,  and  it  sinks  to 
 nothing  again.  He  waves  his  hand,  and  all  the  creatures  which 
 you  have  collected  to  rival  him,  sink  and  disappear.  Such,  O 
 sinner,  is  our  Beloved,  and  such  is  our  Friend.  Will  you  not 
 then  embrace  him  as  your  Friend  ?  If  you  can  be  persuaded  to 
 do  this,  you  will  find  that  the  one  half,  nay,  that  the  thousandth 
 part  has  not  been  told  you. 
 
 VOL.  I. 
 
 64 
 
506 
 
 INVITATIONS    OF  CHRIST. 
 
 All  the  excellency,  glory  and  beauty,  which  is  found  in  men 
 or  angels,  flows  from  Christ,  as  a  drop  of  water  from  the  ocean, 
 or  a  ray  of  light  from  the  sun.  If,  then,  you  supremely  love 
 the  creature,  can  you  wonder  that  Christians  should  love  the 
 Creator '?  If  you  admire  an  image  in  a  glass,  is  it  strange  that 
 they  should  admire  the  sun  by  which  it  was  painted  ?  Can  you 
 wonder  that  those  who  behold  the  glory  of  God,  in  the  face  of 
 Jesus  Christ,  should  be  sweetly  drawn  to  him  by  the  cords  of 
 love,  and  lose  their  fondness  for  created  glories?  All  that  you 
 love  and  admire,  and  wish  for,  in  creatures,  and  indeed  infinitely 
 more,  they  find  in  him.  Do  you  wish  for  a  friend  possessed  of 
 power  to  protect  you?  Our  Friend  possesses  all  power  in 
 heaven  and  earth,  and  is  able  to  save  even  to  the  uttermost. 
 Do  you  wish  for  a  wise  and  experienced  friend  ?  In  Christ  are 
 hid  all  the  treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge.  Do  you  wish 
 for  a  tender,  compassionate  friend  ?  Christ  is  tenderness  and 
 compassion  itself  Do  you  wish  for  a  faithful,  unchangeable 
 friend  ?  With  Christ  there  is  no  variableness,  nor  shadow  of 
 turning ;  but  he  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever. 
 His  unchangeable  love  will  ever  prompt  him  to  make  his  people 
 happy ;  his  unerring  wisdom  will  point  out  the  best  means  to 
 promote  their  happiness  ;  and  his  infinite  power  will  enable  him 
 to  employ  those  rneans.  In  all  these  respects,  our  Beloved  is 
 more  than  another  beloved;  for  creatures  are  not  always  disposed 
 to  render  us  happy  :  when  they  are  disposed  to  do  it,  they  do 
 not  always  know  how;  and  when  they  know  how,  they  are 
 often  unable.  Better  is  it,  therefore,  to  trust  in  Christ,  than  to 
 put  confidence  in  princes. 
 
 INVITATIONS   OF   CHRIST   TO   THE   WEARY  AND  OPPRESSED. 
 
 To  all  who  are  afiiicted  either  in  body,  mind  or  estate;  all 
 whose  worldly  hopes  and  prospects  have  been  blasted  by  losses 
 and  disappointments ;  all  who  are  weeping  over  the  grave  of 
 some  near  and  dear  relative ;  the  language  of  Christ  is,  Cast 
 your  burden  upon  me,  and  I  will  sustain  thee ;  call  upon  me 
 now  in  the  day  of  trouble,  and  I  will  answer  thee.  You  have 
 found  that  earthly  friends  and  relations  die; — come,  then,  to 
 me,  and  find  a  Friend  who  cannot  die ;  one  who  will  never 
 leave  nor  forsake  you,  in  life  or  death.  You  have  found  that 
 treasures  laid  up  on  earth,  make  to  themselves  wings  and  fly 
 
Christ's  displeasure  at  sin.  507 
 
 away  ; — come,  then,  to  me,  and  I  will  give  you  treasures  which 
 never  fail,  and  make  you  heirs  of  the  heavenly  inheritance. 
 No  longer  spend  your  money  for  that  which  is  not  bread,  and 
 your  labor  for  that  which  satisfieth  not ;  but  hearken  diligently 
 to  my  call,  and  come  unto  me  ;  hear,  and  your  souls  shall  live  ; 
 and  I  will  make  an  everlasting  covenant  with  you,  even  the 
 sure  mercies  of  David. 
 
 Christ's  displeasure  at  sin. 
 
 We  read  of  Christ's  being  angry  but  three  times  during  the 
 whole  period  of  his  residence  on  earth,  and  in  each  of  those 
 instances,  his  anger  was  excited  not  by  insults  or  injuries  offered 
 to  himself,  but  by  conduct  which  tended  to  interrupt  or  frustrate 
 his  benevolent  exertions  in  doing  good.  When  he  was  reviled 
 as  a  man  gluttonous,  intemperate,  and  possessed  by  a  devil,  he 
 was  not  angry ;  when  he  was  buffeted,  spit  upon,  and  crowned 
 with  thorns,  he  was  not  angry ;  when  nailed  to  the  cross,  and 
 loaded  with  insults  in  his  last  agonies,  he  was  not  angry.  But 
 when  his  disciples  forbade  parents  to  bring  their  infant  children 
 to  receive  his  blessing  ;  when  Peter  endeavored  to  dissuade  him 
 from  dying  for  sinners;  and  when  sinners,  by  their  hardness  of 
 heart,  rendered  his  intended  death  of  no  service  to  themselves; 
 then  he  was  angry  and  much  displeased. 
 
 Suppose  a  person  whom  you  had  found  deserted  in  the  streets 
 when  an  infant,  and  adopted  and  educated  as  your  own,  should, 
 when  arrived  to  manhood,  rob  and  attempt  to  murder  you. 
 Suppose  him  tried,  convicted,  condemned,  and  confined  to  await 
 the  execution  of  his  sentence.  You  pity  him,  forgive  him,  and 
 v/ish  to  save  his  life.  You  fly  to  the  proper  authority,  and  after 
 much  expense  and  labor,  obtain  an  assurance  that  if  he  will 
 confess  his  crime,  he  shall  be  pardoned.  You  hasten  to  his 
 dungeon  to  communicate  the  happy  intelligence.  But  he  refuses 
 to  hear  you,  believe  you,  or  confess  his  fault;  regards  you  with 
 aversion,  suspicion  or  contempt,  and  turns  a  deaf  ear  to  your 
 prayers  and  entreaties.  Would  you  not  be  unutterably  shocked, 
 disappointed  and  grieved  7  What,  then,  must  be  the  feelings  of 
 Christ,  when  treated  in  a  similar  manner  by  those  whom  he 
 died  to  save !  Well  may  he  look  on  them  with  anger,  being 
 grieved  for  the  hardness  of  their  hearts. 
 
508 
 
 DEATH    OF  CHRIST. 
 
 Come  with  us  a  moment  to  Calvary.  See  the  meek  sufferer 
 standing,  with  hands  fast  bound,  in  the  midst  of  his  enemies, 
 sinliing  under  the  weight  of  his  cross,  and  lacerated  in  every 
 part,  by  the  thorny  reeds  with  which  he  had  been  scourged. 
 See  the  savage,  ferocious  soldiers  raising,  with  rude  violence, 
 his  sacred  body,  forcing  it  down  upon  the  cross,  wresting  and 
 extending  his  limbs,  and,  with  remorseless  cruelty,  forcing 
 through  his  hands  and  feet  the  ragged  spikes  which  were  to  fix 
 him  on  it.  See  the  Jewish  priests  and  rulers  watching,  with 
 looks  of  malicious  pleasure,  the  horrid  scene,  and  attempting  to 
 increase  his  sufferings  by  scoffs  and  blasphemies.  Now  con- 
 template attentively  the  countenance  of  the  wonderful  sufferer, 
 which  seems  like  heaven  opening  in  the  midst  of  hell,  and  tell 
 me  what  it  expresses.  You  see  it  indeed  full  of  anguish,  but 
 it  expresses  nothing  like  impatience,  resentment  or  revenge.  On 
 the  contrary,  it  beams  with  pity,  benevolence,  and  forgiveness. 
 It  perfectly  corresponds  with  the  prayer,  which,  raising  his 
 mild,  imploring  eyes  to  heaven,  he  pours  forth  to  God — Father, 
 forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do.  Christian,  look 
 at  your  Master,  and  learn  how  to  suffer.  Sinner,  look  at  your 
 Saviour,  and  learn  to  admire,  to  imitate,  and  to  forgive. 
 
 SUFFERINGS    OF  CHRIST. 
 
 It  has  been  supposed  by  many,  that  the  sufferings  of  Christ 
 were  rather  apparent  than  real ;  or  at  least  that  his  abundant 
 consolations,  and  his  knowledge  of  the  happy  consequences 
 which  would  result  from  his  death,  rendered  his  sorrows  com- 
 paratively light,  and  almost  converted  them  to  joys.  But  never 
 was  supposition  more  erroneous.  Jesus  Christ  was  as  truly  a 
 man  as  either  of  us ;  and,  as  man,  he  was  as  really  susceptible 
 of  grief,  as  keenly  alive  to  pain  and  reproach,  and  as  much 
 averse  from  pain  and  suffering,  as  any  of  the  descendants  of 
 Adam.  As  to  divine  consolation  and  supports,  they  were  at  all 
 times  bestowed  on  him  in  a  very  sparing  manner,  and  in  the 
 season  of  his  greatest  extremity  entirely  withheld;  and  though 
 a  knowledge  of  the  happy  consequences  which  would  result 
 from  his  sufferings  rendered  him  willing  to  endure  them,  it  did 
 not  in  the  smallest  degree  take  off  their  edge,  or  render  him 
 insensible  to  pain.  No,  his  sufferings,  instead  of  being  less, 
 were  incomparably  greater  than  they  appeared  to  be.    No  finite 
 
LOVE    OF  CHRIST. 
 
 509 
 
 mind  can  conceive  of  their  extent,  nor  was  any  of  the  human 
 race  ever  so  well  entitled  to  the  appellation  of  the  man  of  sor- 
 rows, as  the  man  Jesus  Christ. 
 
 As  Christ  died  for  all,  so  he  felt  and  wept  for  the  sufferings  of 
 all.  The  temporal  and  eternal  calamities  of  the  whole  human 
 race,  and  of  every  individual  among  them  all,  seemed  to  be 
 collected  and  laid  upon  him.  He  saw,  at  one  view,  the  whole 
 mighty  aggregate  of  human  guilt  and  human  wretchedness, 
 and  his  boundless  benevolence  and  compassion  made  it.  by 
 sympathy,  all  his  own.  It  has  been  said  by  philosophers,  that 
 if  any  man  could  see  all  the  misery  which  is  daily  felt  in  the 
 world,  he  would  never  smile  again.  We  need  not  wonder  then, 
 that  Christ,  who  saw  it  all,  never  smiled,  though  he  often  wept. 
 
 LOVE    OF  CHRIST. 
 
 In  order  to  form  some  faint  conception  of  the  love  of  Christ, 
 suppose,  my  Christian  friends,  that  all  your  toils  and  sufferings 
 were  ended,  and  you  were  safely  arrived  in  heaven,  the  rest 
 which  remains  for  the  people  of  God.  Suppose  that  you  were 
 there  crowned  with  glory,  and  honor,  and  immortality,  listening 
 with  unutterable  ecstacies  to  the  song  of  the  redeemed,  contem- 
 plating the  ineffable,  unveiled  glories  of  Jehovah,  drinking  full 
 draughts  from  those  rivers  of  pleasure  which  flow  forever  at  his 
 right  hand,  and  tasting  those  joys  which  the  heart  of  man  hath 
 not  conceived.  What  would  tempt  you  to  revisit  this  vale  of 
 tears,  commence  anew  the  wearisome  journey  of  life,  and  en- 
 counter all  the  toils,  the  temptations,  the  sufferings  and  sorrows 
 which  attend  it?  Must  it  not  be  love  stronger  than  death,  love 
 such  as  you  cannot  conceive  of,  which  would  induce  you  to  do 
 this?  How  infinite,  how  inconceivable,  then,  must  have  been 
 that  love  which  brought  down  the  Son  of  God  from  the  celestial 
 world  to  redeem  our  ruined  race !  which  led  him  to  exchange 
 the  bosom  of  his  Father  for  a  veil  of  flesh  ;  the  adoration  of 
 angels  for  the  scoflfs  and  insults  of  sinners;  and  the  enjoyment 
 of  eternal  life  for  an  accursed,  painful  and  ignominious  death ! 
 Nothing  but  love  could  have  done  this.  Not  all  the  powers  of 
 heaven,  earth  and  hell  combined,  could  have  dragged  him  from 
 his  celestial  throne,  and  wrested  the  sceptre  of  the  universe 
 from  his  hands.    No,  it  was  love  alone,  divine,  omnipotent  love, 
 
610 
 
 SELF-DENIAL    OF  CHRIST. 
 
 which  drew  him  down ;  it  was  in  the  bands  of  love  that  he 
 was  led  a  willing  captive,  through  all  the  toils  and  sufferings  of 
 a  laborious  life ;  and  it  was  these  bands  which  bound  him  at  the 
 bar  of  Pilate,  which  fettered  his  arm  of  everlasting  strength, 
 and  prevented  his  blasting  his  murderers. 
 
 Unless  we  could  ascend  into  heaven,  and  see  the  glory  and 
 happiness  which  our  Redeemer  left ;  unless  we  could  descend 
 into  the  grave,  and  learn  the  depths  of  wretchedness  to  Avhich 
 he  sank  ;  unless  we  could  weigh,  as  in  a  balance,  all  the  trials, 
 toils  and  sufferings  of  his  life ;  never,  never  can  we  know  the 
 immeasurable  extent  of  his  love.  But  these  things  we  cannot 
 do.  None  but  the  omniscient  God  knows  what  he  felt,  or  what 
 he  suffered  ;  none  but  the  omniscient  God,  therefore,  knows  the 
 extent  of  his  love. 
 
 To  think  of  the  love  of  Christ,  is  like  trying  to  conceive  of 
 existence  which  has  no  beginning,  and  of  powey  which  can 
 make  something  of  nothing.  Tongue  cannot  describe  it;  finite 
 minds  cannot  conceive  of  it ;  angels  faint  under  it ;  and  those 
 who  know  most  of  it  can  only  say,  with  inspiration,  that  it 
 passeth  knowledge. 
 
 SELF-DENIAL    OF  CHRIST. 
 
 The  life  of  Christ  was  one  of  self-denial.  He  denied  himself, 
 for  thirty  years,  all  the  glories  and  felicity  of  the  heavenly 
 world ;  and  exposed  himself  to  all  the  pains  and  sorrows  of  a 
 life  on  earth.  He  denied  himself  the  praises  and  adorations  of 
 saints  and  angels;  and  exposed  himself  to  the  blasphemies  and 
 reproaches  of  men.  He  denied  himself  the  presence  and  enjoy- 
 ment of  God;  and  exposed  himself  to  the  society  of  publicans 
 and  sinners.  He  denied  himself  every  thing  that  nature  desires ; 
 he  exposed  himself  to  every  thing  she  dreads  and  abhors ;  to 
 poverty,  contempt,  pain  and  death.  When  he  entered  on  his 
 glorious  and  godlike  design,  he  renounced  all  regard  to  his  own 
 comfort  and  convenience,  and  took  up  the  cross,  a  cross  infi- 
 nitely heavier  and  more  painful  than  any  of  his  disciples  had 
 been  called  to  bear,  and  continued  to  carry  it  through  a  rough 
 and  thorny  road,  till  his  human  nature,  exhausted,  sunk  under 
 the  weight.    In  short,  he  considered  himself,  his  time,  his  tal- 
 
CHRIST    S  REWARD. 
 
 511 
 
 ents,  his  reputation,  his  happiness,  his  very  existence,  as  not  his 
 own,  but  another's ;  and  he  ever  employed  them  accordingly. 
 He  lived  not  for  himself,  he  died  not  for  himself;  but  for  others 
 he  hved,  and  for  others  he  died. 
 
 HE    SHALL    SEE    OF    THE    TRAVAIL    OF    HIS  SOUL. 
 
 How  great,  how  inconceivable  will  be  our  Saviour's  happi- 
 ness, after  the  final  consummation  of  all  things  !  Then  the 
 plan  for  which  our  world  was  formed  will  be  completed.  Then 
 every  member  of  the  church,  for  the  sake  of  which  he  loved 
 and  visited  our  world,  will  have  been  brought  home  to  heaven, 
 to  be  with  him  where  he  is.  And  if  he  loved,  and  rejoiced,  and 
 delighted  in  them  before  they  existed,  and  before  they  knew 
 and  loved  him,  how  will  he  love  and  rejoice  in  them  when  he 
 sees  them  surrounding  his  throne,  perfectly  resembling  himself 
 in  body  and  soul ;  loving  him  with  unutterable  love,  contempla- 
 ting him  with  ineffable  delight,  and  praising  him  as  their  deliv- 
 erer from  sin,  and  death,  and  hell ;  as  the  author  of  all  their 
 everlasting  glory  and  felicity!  Then, — O  blessed,  animating 
 thought !  —  he  will  be  amply  rewarded  for  all  his  sufferings,  and 
 for  all  his  love  to  our  ruined  race ;  then  his  people  shall  cease 
 to  grieve  and  offend  him ;  then  they  shall  no  longer  degrade  him 
 by  weak,  confused,  inadequate  conceptions  of  his  person,  char- 
 acter, and  work  ;  for  then  shall  they  see  as  they  are  seen,  and 
 know  even  as  they  are  known.  Then  the  whole  church  shall 
 be  presented  to  him,  a  glorious  church,  without  spot  or  blemish, 
 or  imperfection ;  and  shall  be  as  a  crown  of  glory  in  the  hand 
 of  the  Lord,  and  as  a  royal  diadem  in  the  hand  of  our  God. 
 Then,  O  Zion,  as  a  bridegroom  rejoiceth  over  the  bride,  so  shall 
 thy  God  rejoice  over  thee.  Then  shall  thy  sun  no  rnore  go 
 down,  nor  thy  moon  withdraw  itself;  but  the  Lord  shall  be 
 thine  everlasting  light,  and  thy  God,  thy  glory;  and  the  days 
 of  thy  mourning,  and  of  thy  Saviour's  suffering,  shall  be  ended. 
 
 If  we  love,  and  prize,  and  rejoice  in  any  object,  in  proportion 
 to  the  labor,  pain,  and  expense  which  it  has  cost  us  to  obtain  it, 
 how  greatly  must  Christ  love,  and  prize,  and  rejoice  in  every 
 penitent  sinner  !  His  love  and  joy  must  be  unutterable,  incon- 
 ceivable, infinite.  For  once,  I  rejoice  that  our  Saviour's  toils 
 and  sufferings  were  so  great,  since  the  greater  they  were,  the 
 
512 
 
 CONDESCENSION    OF  CHRIST. 
 
 greater  must  be  his  love  for  us,  and  his  joy  in  our  conversion. 
 And  if  he  thus  rejoiceth  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,  what 
 must  be  his  joy,  when  all  his  people  are  collected,  out  of  every 
 tongue,  and  kindred,  and  people,  and  nation,  and  presented 
 spotless  before  his  Father's  throne  !  What  a  full  tide  of  felicity 
 will  pour  in  upon  him,  and  how  will  his  benevolent  heart  ex- 
 pand with  unutterable  delight,  when,  contemplating  the  count- 
 less myriads  of  the  redeemed,  he  says.  Were  it  not  for  my  suf- 
 ferings, all  these  immortal  beings  would  have  been,  throughout 
 eternity,  as  miserable,  and  now  they  will  be  as  happy,  as  God 
 can  make  them  !  It  is  enough.  I  see  of  the  travail  of  my  soul, 
 and  am  satisfied. 
 
 CONDESCENSION    AND    LOVE    OF  CHRIST. 
 
 The  meanest  beggar,  the  vilest  wretch,  the  most  loathsome, 
 depraved,  abandoned  sinner,  is  perfectly  welcome  to  the  arms 
 and  the  heart  of  the  Saviour,  if  he  comes  with  the  temper  of 
 the  penitent  prodigal.  To  all  who  come  with  this  temper,  he 
 ever  lends  a  gracious  ear ;  he  listens  to  catch  the  first  peniten- 
 tial sigh  ;  he  watches  their  first  feeble  step  towards  the  path  of 
 duty  ;  he  prevents  them  with  his  grace,  hastens  to  meet  them, 
 and  while  they  are  ready  to  sink  at  his  feet  with  mingled 
 shame,  confusion  and  grief,  he  puts  underneath  them  his  ever- 
 lasting arms,  embraces,  cheers,  supports  and  comforts  them  ; 
 wipes  away  their  tears,  washes  away  their  stains,  clothes  them 
 with  his  righteousness,  unites  them  to  himself  forever,  and  feeds 
 them  with  the  bread  and  water  of  life.  Thus  he  binds  up  the 
 broken  reed,  enkindles  the  smoking  flax,  and,  like  a  most  ten- 
 der, compassionate  shepherd,  gathers  the  helpless  lambs  in  his 
 arms,  and  carries  them  in  his  bosom.  Thus,  by  the  conde- 
 scending grace  of  our  Immanuel,  heaven  is  brought  down  to 
 earth  ;  the  awful  majesty,  and  inaccessible  glories  of  Jehovah, 
 are  shrouded  in  a  veil  of  flesh  ;  a  new  and  living  way  is  opened 
 for  our  return  to  God ;  and  sinful,  guilty  worms  of  the  dust 
 may  talk  with  their  Maker  face  to  face,  as  a  man  talketh  with 
 his  friend. 
 
 Trembling  sinner,  desponding  Christian,  permit  me  to  take 
 you  by  the  hand  and  lead  you  to  Jesus.  Why  do  you  linger, 
 why  do  you  hang  back?  It  is  to  Christ,  it  is  to  Jesus,  it  is  to 
 
LANGUAGE    OF  PENITENCE. 
 
 513 
 
 the  Babe  of  Bethlehem,  to  a  man  hke  yourselves,  to  the  meek 
 and  lowly  Saviour  of  sinners,  that  I  would  bring  you.  Here 
 are  no  terrors,  no  flaming  sword,  no  burning  throne  to  appal  you. 
 Come,  then,  to  his  feet,  to  his  arms,  to  his  heart,  which  overflows 
 with  compassion  for  your  perishing  souls.  Come  and  contemp- 
 late the  glory  of  the  only-begotten  of  the  Father,  full  of  grace 
 and  truth,  and  receive  of  his  fulness  grace  for  grace. 
 
 COMPASSION    AND    CONDESCENSION  OFCHRIST. 
 
 Fear  not,  says  the  Saviour  to  his  penitent,  heart-broken  disciple. 
 Fear  not,  trembling,  desponding  soul.  My  glory,  my  perfections 
 need  not  alarm  thee,  for  they  are  all  engaged  on  thy  side,  all  pledg- 
 ed to  secure  thy  salvation.  Tell  me  not  of  thy  sins.  I  will  take 
 them  away.  Tell  me  not  of  thy  weakness,  thy  folly  and  igno- 
 rance. I  have  treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge,  and  strength 
 for  thee.  Tell  me  not  of  the  weakness  of  thy  graces.  My 
 grace  is  siifficientfor  thee,  for  its  riches  are  unsearchable.  Tell 
 me  not  of  the  difliculties  which  oppose  thy  salvation.  Is  any 
 thing  too  hard  for  me?  Tell  me  not  that  the  favors  thou 
 art  receiving  are  too  great  for  thee.  I  know  they  are  too  great 
 for  thee  to  merit,  but  they  are  not  too  great  for  me  to  give.  Nay, 
 more,  I  will  give  thee  greater  things  than  these.  I  will  not 
 only  continue  to  pardon  thy  sins,  bear  with  thine  infirmities,  and 
 heal  thy  backslidings  ;  but  give  thee  larger  and  larger  measures 
 of  my  grace,  make  thee  more  and  more  useful  in  the  world, 
 render  thee  more  than  a  conqueror  over  all  thine  enemies,  and 
 at  death  wipe  away  forever  all  thy  tears ;  receive  thee  to  the 
 mansions  which  my  Father  has  prepared  for  thee  in  heaven, 
 and  cause  thee  to  sit  down  with  me  on  my  throne  forever  and 
 ever.  Thus  does  Christ  comfort  those  that  mourn;  thus  he  en- 
 courages the  desponding,  thus  exalts  those  that  humble  themselves 
 at  his  feet;  and  constrains  them  to  cry,  in  admiring  transports 
 of  gratitude  and  love.  Who,  O  who  is  a  God  like  unto  thee,  for- 
 giving iniquity,  transgression  and  sin? 
 
 DEPART  FROM    ME,   FOR  I  AM   A  SINFUL  MAN,  0  LORD. 
 
 As  our  views  of  our  own  sinfulness,  and  of  the  abominable 
 malignity  of  sin,  are  always  in  direct  proportion  to  our  views  of 
 the  divine  purity  and  glory,  the  Christian  never  appears  to  him- 
 self so  unspeakably  vile,  so  totally  unworthy  of  his  Saviour's 
 
 VOL.  I.  65 
 
514  LANGUAGE  OF  PENITENCE. 
 
 love,  or  so  unfit  to  enjoy  his  presence,  as  at  the  very  time  when 
 he  is  favored  with  these  blessings,  in  the  highest  degree.  The 
 consequence  is  that  he  is  astonished,  confounded,  crushed  and 
 Dverwhelmed  by  a  display  of  goodness  so  undeserved,  so  unex- 
 pected. When  he  has  perhaps  been  ready  to  conclude  that  he 
 was  a  vile  hypocrite,  and  to  give  up  all  for  lost;  or,  if  not  to 
 fear  that  God  would  bring  upon  him  some  terrible  judgment  for 
 his  sins,  and  make  him  an  example  to  others — then  to  see  his 
 much-insulted  Saviour,  his  neglected  Benefactor,  his  injured 
 Friend,  suddenly  appear  to  deliver  him  from  the  consequences 
 of  his  own  folly  and  ingratitude  ;  to  see  him  come  with  smiles 
 and  blessings,  when  he  expected  nothing  but  upbraidings,  threat- 
 enings,  and  scourges — it  is  too  much;  he  knows  not  how  to  bear 
 it;  he  scarcely  dares  take  the  consolation  offered  him;  bethinks 
 it  must  be  all  a  delusion.  Even  when  convinced  beyond  a  doubt, 
 that  it  is  not  so;  when  he  feels  the  healing  virtue  of  his  kind 
 Physician,  pervading  his  whole  soul,  and  sees  him  stooping  to 
 cleanse,  to  comfort,  and  embrace  him,  he  shrinks,  back,  involun- 
 tarily, as  if  the  spotless  Saviour  would  be  contaminated  by  his 
 touch;  sinks  down  ashamed  and  broken-hearted  at  his  feet;  feels 
 unworthy  and  unable  to  lookup;  and  the  more  condescendingly 
 Christ  stoops  to  embrace  him,  so  much  lower  and  lower  does  he 
 sink  in  the  dust.  At  length  his  emotions  find  utterance,  and  he 
 cries,  O  Lord,  treat  me  not  thus  kindly.  Such  favors  belong  to 
 those,  only,  who  do  not  requite  thy  love  as  I  have  done.  How 
 can  it  be  just,  how  can  it  be  right  to  give  them  to  one  so  unde- 
 serving? Thy  kindness  is  lavislied  upon  me  in  vain;  thy  mer- 
 cies are  thrown  away  upon  one  so  incorrigibly  vile.  If  thou 
 pardon  me  now,  I  shall  offend  thee  again  ;  if  thou  heal  my  back- 
 slidings,  I  shall  again  wander  from  thee;  if  thou  cleanse  me,  I 
 shall  again  become  polluted :  thou  must,  O  Lord,  give,  me  up  — 
 thou  must  leave  me  to  perish,  and  bestow  thy  favors  on  those 
 who  are  less  unworthy,  less  incurably  prone  to  offend  thee. 
 Such  are  often  the  feelings  of  the  broken-hearted  penitent ;  thus 
 does  he  shrink  from  the  mercy  which  pursues  him,  thus  seems 
 to  plead  against  himself;  and,  though  he  desires  and  prizes  noth- 
 ing so  much  as  his  Saviour's  presence,  feels  constrained  by  a 
 sense  of  his  vileness  and  pollution,  to  ask  him,  and  almost  wish 
 liim  to  depart,  and  leave  him  to  the  fate  which  he  so  richly  de- 
 serves. 
 
JOY    OFCOMMUNING    WITH  GOD. 
 
 516 
 
 JOY   OF  COMMUNING  WITH  GOD. 
 
 At  times,  God  is  pleased  to  admit  his  children  to  nearer  ap- 
 proaches, and  more  intimate  degrees  of  fellowship  with  himself 
 and  his  Son,  Jesus  Christ.  He  sends  down  the  spirit  of  adop- 
 tion into  their  hearts,  whereby  they  are  enabled  to  cry  Abba, 
 Father!  and  to  feel  those  lively  affections  of  love,  joy,  trust, 
 hope,  reverence  and  dependence,  which  it  is  at  once  their  duty 
 and  their  happiness  to  exercise  towards  their  Father  in  heaven. 
 By  the  influences  of  the  same  Spirit  he  shines  into  their  minds, 
 to  give  them  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  the  glory  of  God,  in 
 the  face  of  Jesus  Christ ;  causes  his  glory  to  pass  before  them, 
 and  makes  them,  in  some  measure,  to  understand  the  perfections 
 of  his  nature.  He  also  reveals  to  them  the  unutterable,  incon- 
 ceivable, unheard  of  things,  which  he  has  prepared  for  those 
 who  love  him  ;  applies  to  them  his  exceeding  great  and  precious 
 promises ;  makes  them  to  know  that  great  love  wherewith  he 
 has  loved  them,  and  thus  causes  them  to  rejoice  with  joy  un- 
 speakable and  full  of  glory.  He  shines  in  upon  their  souls  with 
 the  dazzling,  melting,  overpowering  beams  of  grace  and  mercy 
 proceeding  from  the  Sun  of  righteousness,  gives  them  to  know 
 the  heights  and  the  depths,  the  lengths  and  the  breadths,  of  the 
 lore  of  Christ,  which  passeth  knowledge,  and  fills  them  with 
 all  the  fulness  of  God.  The  Christian,  in  these  bright,  enrap- 
 tured moments,  while  thus  basking  in  beams  of  celestial  light 
 and  splendor,  forgets  himself,  forgets  his  existence,  and  is  wholly 
 absorbed  in  the  ravishing,  the  ecstatic  contemplation  of  uncre- 
 ated beauty  and  loveliness.  He  endeavors  to  plunge  himself 
 into  the  boundless  ocean  of  divine  glory  which  opens  to  his  view, 
 and  longs  to  be  wholly  swallowed  up  and  lost  in  God.  His 
 whdle  soul  goes  forth  in  one  intense  flame  of  gratitude,  admira- 
 tion, love  and  desire.  He  contemplates,  he  wonders,  he  admires, 
 he  loves  and  adores.  His  soul  dilates  itself  beyond  its  ordinary 
 capacity,  and  expands  to  receive  the  flood  of  happiness  which 
 overwhelms  it.  All  its  desires  are  satisfied.  It  no  longer  in- 
 quires, who  will  show  us  any  good,  but  returns  unto  its  rest,  be- 
 cause the  Lord  hath  dealt  bountifully  with  it.  The  scanty, 
 noisy,  thirst-producing  streams  of  worldly  delight  only  increase 
 the  feverish  desires  of  the  soul;  but  the  tide  of  joy  which  flows 
 
516 
 
 CALL   TO  CHRISTIANS, 
 
 in  upon  the  Christian,  is  silent,  deep,  full  and  satisfying.  All 
 the  powers  and  faculties  of  his  mind  are  lost,  absorbed,  and 
 swallowed  up  in  the  contemplation  of  infinite  glory.  With  an 
 energy  and  activity  unknown  before,  he  roams  and  ranges 
 through  the  ocean  of  light  and  love,  where  he  can  neither  find 
 a  bottom  nor  a  shore.  No  language  can  utter  his  feelings;  but, 
 with  an  emphasis,  a  meaning,  an  expression,  which  God  alone 
 could  excite,  and  which  he  alone  can  understand,  he  breathes 
 out  the  ardent  emotions  of  his  soul,  in  broken  words,  while  he 
 exclaims,  my  Father  and  my  God. 
 
 TO  CHRISTIANS  IN  THE  COMMENCEMENT  OF  A  REVIVAL. 
 
 Yes,  O  Christian,  whoever  you  are,  however  tempted  and  dis- 
 tressed, however  languishing  and  despairing  you  may  be,  the 
 Master  is  come,  and  calleth  for  thee.  He  does,  as  it  were,  call 
 thee  by  name,  for  he  knows  the  names  of  his  sheep;  they  are 
 engraven  on  the  palms  of  his  hands,  and  he  cannot  forget  them. 
 His  language  is.  Where  is  this,  and  that,  and  the  other  one, 
 among  my  flock,  who  used  to  watch  for  the  tokens  of  my  ap- 
 proach, and  come  at  the  sound  of  my  voice  1  Why  do  they  not 
 come  to  welcome  my  return,  and  rejoice  in  my  presence?  Have 
 they  backslidden  and  wandered  from  my  fold?  Go,  and  tell 
 them  that  their  Shepherd  is  come,  and  calleth  for  them.  Say 
 unto  them,  How  long  will  ye  go  about,  O  backsliding  people  ? 
 Return  unto  me,  and  I  will  heal  your  backslidings.  Are  they 
 tempted  and  distressed?  Go,  and  tell  them  that  their  High 
 Priest  and  Intercessor,  one  who  has  been  in  all  points  tempted 
 like  as  they  are,  and  who  can  therefore  be  touched  with  the 
 feeling  of  their  infirmities,  is  come,  and  calleth  for  them  to 
 spread  their  temptations  and  afflictions  before  him.  Are  they 
 borne  down  with  a  load  of  guilt,  and  the  weight  of  their  sins 
 against  me,  so  that  they  are  ashamed  to  look  me  in  the  face? 
 Tell  them  that  I  will  receive  them  graciously,  and  love  them 
 freely.  Are  they  carried  away  by  their  spiritual  enemies,  and 
 bound  in  the  fetters  of  vice,  so  that  they  cannot  come  to  wel- 
 come me?  Tell  them  that  I  am  come  to  proclaim  deliverance 
 to  the  captives,  and  the  opening  of  the  prison  to  them  that  are 
 bound ;  to  rescue  the  lambs  of  my  flock  from  the  paw  of  the 
 lion  and  the  jaws  of  the  bear.  Are  they  oppressed  with  fears 
 that  they  shall  one  day  perish  by  the  hand  of  their  enemies? 
 
CALL    TO  CHRISTIANS. 
 
 517 
 
 Go  and  tell  them  that  my  sheep  never  perish,  and  that  none 
 shall  finally  pluck  them  out  of  my  hand.  Are  they  slumbering 
 and  sleeping,  insensible  of  my  approach?  Go  and  awake  them 
 with  the  cry.  Behold  the  bridegroom  cometh;  go  ye  out  to  meet  him. 
 
 It  is  profitable  for  the  children  of  God  often  to  reflect  on  what 
 they  formerly  were,  to  meditate  on  their  once  wretched  and 
 helpless  condition,  to  look  to  the  rock  whence  they  were  hewn, 
 and  to  the  pit  whence  they  were  digged.  Look  back,  then. 
 Christians,  to  the  time  when  you,  who  are  now  the  children  of 
 God,  the  members  of  Christ,  and  the  temples  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
 were  the  enemies  of  God,  the  despisers  of  his  Son,  and  the 
 willing  slaves  of  the  father  of  lies,  who  wrought  in  you  as  chil- 
 dren of  disobedience ;  when  your  hearts  were  hard  as  the  nether 
 millstone,  your  understandings  darkened  and  alineated  from  the 
 life  of  God;  your  wills  stubborn,  perverse  and  rebellious ;  your 
 affections  madly  bent  on  the  pleasures  of  sin ;  and  every  imagi- 
 nation of  the  thoughts  of  your  hearts  was  evil  only,  and  continual- 
 ly evil.  Look  back  with  shame  and  self-abhorrence  to  the  time 
 when  you  lived  without  God  in  the  world,  when  you  drank  in  ini- 
 quity like  water,  serving  diverse  lusts  and  vanities,  and  fulfilling 
 the  desires  of  the  flesh  and  the  mind  ;  casting  God's  law  behind 
 your  backs,  stifling  the  remonstrances  of  conscience  quenching  the 
 influences  of  the  divine  Spirit,  neglecting  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and 
 coming  to  the  house  of  God,  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath,  not  to 
 honor  him  in  the  assembly  of  his  saints,  or  to  learn  your  duty, 
 — but  to  mock  him  with  pretended  worship,  while  youi  hearts 
 were  far  from  him.  How  many  calls  and  invitations  did  you 
 there  slight !  How  many  sermons  did  you  hear  as  though  you 
 heard  not !  How  many  prayers  were  ofiered  up  in  your  pres- 
 ence, while  you,  perhaps,  never  considered,  for  a  moment,  in 
 what  you  were  engaged,  but  suffered  your  thoughts  to  wander 
 to  the  ends  of  the  earth!  Even  then,  God  was  watching  over 
 you  for  good;  and  yet  how  ungratefully  did  you  requite  him! 
 How  many  mercies  did  you  receive  without  making  one  grate- 
 ful acknowledgment !  How  did  you  strive  to  provoke  him  to 
 jealousy,  and  lead  him,  if  possible,  to  alter  his  gracious  designs 
 in  your  favor!  A  rebel  against  God,  a  crucifier  of  Christ,  a  re- 
 sister  of  the  divine  Spirit,  a  slave  of  Satan,  a  child  of  wrath, 
 an  heir  of  hell; — such,  O  Christian,  was  once  thy  character; 
 and  nothing,  in  human  view,  was  then  before  thee,  but  a  fear- 
 ful looking  for  of  judgment  and  fiery  indignation. 
 
518 
 
 UNION  WITH  CHRIST. 
 
 When  we  remember  an  absent  friend,  we  usually  think  with 
 deep  interest  of  the  place  where  he  is,  of  the  business  in  which 
 he  is  engaged,  and  of  the  time  when  we  shall  meet  him.  Chris- 
 tians, you  know  where  your  Master  is.  You  know  what  he  is 
 doing.  You  know  that  he  now  appears  in  the  presence  of  God 
 for  you;  that  he  ever  liveth  to  make  intercession  for  you;  and 
 that,  ere  long,  you  shall  see  him  and  be  with  him.  Think  th  en, 
 much  and  often,  of  the  heaven  where  he  resides,  of  the  perfect 
 wisdom,  fidelity,  and  constancy,  with  which  he  there  manages 
 your  concerns.  Remember  that  he  watches  for  yoii  while  you 
 sleep;  that  he  labors  for  you  while  you  are  idle;  that  he  inter- 
 cedes for  you,  even  while  you  are  sinning  against  him.  Will 
 you,  then,  ever  sin  7  Will  you,  while  awake,  ever  be  idle?  Will 
 you  be  unfaithful,  or  slothful  in  laboring  for  him,  while  he  is 
 ever  active  and  faithful  in  promoting  your  interests? 
 
 CHRISTIANS,  MEMBERS  OF  THE  BODY  OF  CHRIST. 
 
 Since  Christ  is  the  head  of  the  body  of  which  Christians  are 
 members,  he  has  a  right  to  expect  the  same  services  from  them, 
 which  we  expect  from  our  members.  Now  what  we  expect 
 from  our  members  is,  that  every  one,  in  its  proper  place,  should 
 perform  the  services  allotted  it;  executing  the  purposes,  and 
 obeying  the  commands  of  the  head.  We  do  not  expect  that  each 
 member  should  have  a  separate  will,  or  pursue  a  separate  inter- 
 est, or  act  in  any  respect  as  if  it  were  independent.  If  any  part 
 of  our  bodies  does  not  fulfil  these  expectations,  and  yield  prompt 
 and  implicit  obedience  to  our  will,  we  conclude  it  to  be  diseased; 
 and  if  the  acts  of  the  will  produce  no  effect  upon  it,  we  conclude 
 it  to  be  dead,  and  remove  it,  if  possible,  as  a  useless  encum- 
 brance. We  further  expect  that  our  members,  instead  of  attempt- 
 ing to  provide,  each  one,  for  its  own  wants,  will  depend  upon  the 
 wisdom  and  foresight  of  the  head,  for  all  necessary  supplies.  In 
 a  word,  we  know  that  it  is  the  part  of  the  head  to  plan,  direct 
 and  provide,  and  the  part  of  the  members  to  obey  and  execute. 
 Precisely  similar  are  the  duties  of  Christians,  considered  as  the 
 members  of  Christ.  No  Christian  must  have  a  separate  will,  or 
 a  separate  interest  of  his  own,  or  act,  in  any  respect,  as  if  he  were 
 an  insulated,  independent  individual.  A3  there  is  but  one  head, 
 so  there  must  be  but  one  governing,  guiding  will,  and  that  must 
 be  the  will  of  Christ.    If  any  neglect  to  execute  his  will,  they 
 
THE    christian's    CONSOLATION.  519 
 
 are  spiritually  diseased;  and  if  .this  neglect  be  habitual,  they  are 
 spiritually  dead,  and  were  never  really  united  to  Christ,  for  his 
 real  members  never  die.  It  is  also  their  duty  to  depend  on  him 
 for  every  thing,  for  the  supply  of  all  their  temporal  and  spirit- 
 ual necessities;  and  never  to  attempt  any  thing  but  in  reliance 
 on  his  wisdom,  grace  and  strength.  As  well  may  our  feet  walk 
 safeh^,  or  our  hands  work  skilfully,  without  assistance  and 
 guidance  from  the  head,  as  Christians  can  perform  any  ser- 
 vice without  the  grace  of  Christ  their  head,  in  whom  are  laid 
 up  all  the  treasures  of  wisdom,  and  knowledge,  and  grace. 
 
 THE     christian's  CONSOLATION. 
 
 Christians,  a  man  now  fills  the  throne  of  heaven.  And  who 
 is  this  man?  Believer,  mark  it  well.  It  is  a  man  who  is  not 
 ashamed  to  call  you  brother.  It  is  a  man  who  can  be  touched 
 with  the  feeling  of  your  infirmities,  for  he  has  been  in  all 
 points  tempted  like  as  you  are,  yet  without  sin.  Whatever  your 
 sorrows  or  trials  may  be,  he  knows  by  experience  how  to  sym- 
 pathize with  you.  Has  your  Heavenly  Father  forsaken  you, 
 so  that  you  walk  in  darkness  and  see  no  light  7  He  well  re- 
 members what  he  felt,  when  he  cried,.  My  God,  my  God,  why 
 hast  thou  forsaken  me?  Has  Satan  wounded  you  with  his  fiery 
 darts?  He  remembers  how  sorely  his  own  heart  was  bruised 
 when  he  wrestled  with  principalities  and  powers,  and  crushed 
 the  head  of  the  prince  of  darkness.  Are  you  assaulted  with 
 various  and  distressing  temptations?  Christ  was  tempted  to 
 doubt  whether  he  were  the  Son  of  God,  to  presume  upon  his 
 Father's  love,  and  to  worship  the  father  of  lies.  Are  you  pressed 
 down  with  a  complication  of  sorrows,  so  as  to  despair  even  of 
 life  ?  The  soul  of  Christ  was  once  exceeding  sorrowful,  even  unto 
 death.  Are  you  mourning  for  the  danger  of  unbelieving  friends? 
 Christ's  own  brethren  did  not  believe  in  him.  Does  the  world 
 persecute  and  despise  you,  or  are  your  enemies  those  of  your 
 own  household  ?  Christ  was  despised  and  rejected  of  men,  and 
 his  own  relations  stigmatized  him  as  a  madman.  Are  you  suf- 
 fering under  slanderous  and  unjust  accusations  ?  Christ  was 
 called  a  man  gluttonous,  and  a  wine-bibber,  a  friend  of  publi- 
 cans and  sinners.  Are  you  struggling  with  the  evils  of  pover- 
 ty? Jesus  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head.  Do  Christian  friends 
 forsake,  or  treat  you  unkindly  ?    Christ  was  denied  and  forsa- 
 
520         THE  christian's  consolation. 
 
 ken  by  his  own  disciples.  Are  you  distressed  with  fears  of 
 death  1  Christ  has  entered  the  dark  valley  that  he  might  des- 
 troy death.  O,  then,  banish  all  your  fears.  Look  at  your  mer- 
 ciful High  Priest  who  is  passed  unto  the  heavens,  and  trium- 
 phantly exclaim  with  the  apostle,  Who  shall  separate  us  from 
 the  love  of  Christ  ? 
 
 The  professed  disciple  of  Christ,  who  desponds  and  trembles, 
 when  he  hears  his  Master  calling  him  to  go  on  to  perfection, 
 may  derive  courage  and  support  from  looking  at  the  promises 
 of  Christ,  and  at  their  Author.  Among  the  blessings  promised, 
 you  will  find  every  thing  which  any  man  can  need,  to  assist 
 him  in  arriving  at  perfection.  There  are  promises  of  light  and 
 direction  to  find  the  path  which  leads  to  it ;  promises  of  assist- 
 ance to  walk  in  that  path ;  promises  of  strength  to  resist  and 
 overcome  all  opposition  ;  promises  of  remedies  to  heal  us  when 
 wounded,  of  cordials  to  invigorate  us  when  faint,  and  of  most 
 glorious  rewards  to  crown  the  end  of  our  course.  You  will  hear 
 Jehovah  saying.  Fear  not,  for  I  am  with  thee ;  be  not  dismay- 
 ed, for  I  am  thy  God:  I  will  strengthen  thee ;  yea,  I  will  help 
 thee  ;  yea,  1  will  uphold  thee  with  the  right  hand  of  my  righte- 
 ousness. Though  thou  art  in  thyself  but  a  worm,  thou  shalt 
 thresh  the  mountains,  and  beat  them  small  as  the  dust.  Look 
 next  at  him  who  gives  these  promises.  It  is  one  who  is  almigh- 
 ty,  and  who  therefore  can  fulfil  them.  It  is  one  who  cannot 
 lie,  and  therefore  will  fulfil  them.  It  is  one  who  possesses  all 
 power  in  heaven  and  on  earth;  one  whose  treasures  of  grace 
 are  unsearchable  and  inexhaustible;  one  in  whom  dwells  all  the 
 fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily.  With  all  this  fulness,  faith 
 indissolubly  unites  us.  Say,  then,  ye  who  despond  and  trem- 
 ble, when  you  contemplate  the  almost  immeasurable  distance 
 between  your  own  moral  characters  and  that  of  Christ,  what, 
 except  faith  in  these  promises  and  in  their  Author,  is  necessary, 
 to  support,  encourage,  and  animate  you  in  going  on  to  perfec- 
 tion 1  If  Christ  himself  is  perfect ;  if  faith  makes  you  members 
 of  this  perfect  head ;  if  it  causes  his  fulness  to  flow  into  your 
 souls,  —  then  it  is  most  evident  that  he  can  and  will  enable  all, 
 who  exercise  faith  in  him,  to  inntate  his  example,  and  finally  to 
 become  perfect  as  he  is  perfect. 
 
THE    christian's     CONSOLATION.  521 
 
 Let  not  the  Christian  hsten  to  the  suggestions  of  indolence, 
 despondency  and  unbeUef ;  but  let  him  listen  rather  to  the  calls 
 and  promises  of  Christ.  See  what  he  has  already  done  for  those 
 of  our  race  who  relied  on  his  grace.  Look  at  Enoch,  who 
 walked  with  God;  at  Abraham,  the  friend  of  God ;  at  Moses, 
 the  confidential  servant  of  God ;  at  Daniel,  the  man  greatly  be- 
 loved of  God;  at  Stephen,  full  of  faith  and  the  Holy  Ghost; 
 at  St.  Paul,  glowing  with  an  ardor  like  that  of  "  the  rapt  seraph, 
 who  adores  and  burns ;"  and  at  the  many  other  worthies  with 
 whom  the  historian  and  biographer  have  made  us  acquainted. 
 See  to  what  heights  they  soared,  how  nearly  they  approached 
 to  perfection.  And  who  enabled  them  to  malce  these  approach- 
 es, to  soar  to  these  heights?  He,  I  answer,  who  now  calls  upon 
 you  to  follow  them ;  He  who  now  offers  you  the  same  assist- 
 ance which  he  afforded  them.  Rely,  then,  with  full  confidence 
 on  his  perfections  and  promises,  and  recommence  with  new 
 vigor  your  Christian  warfare.  Do  you  still  hesitate  and  linger? 
 O  thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore  dost  thou  doubt '}  Why  cast 
 round  a  trembling,  desponding  glance  upon  the  roaring  wind 
 and  stormy  waves  which  oppose  thy  progress  ?  Look  rather 
 at  him  who  calls  thee  onward;  at  the  omnipotent  arm,  which 
 is  to  be  thy  strength  and  support.  Look  till  you  feel  faith,  and 
 hope,  and  courage,  reviving  in  your  breast.  Then  say  to  your 
 Lord,  I  come.  I  will  follow  where  thou  leadest  the  way.  I 
 will  once  more  aim,  with  renovated  strength,  at  the  perfection 
 which  I  have  long  deemed  una.ttainable. 
 
 This  world  is  the  place  for  labor,  and  not  for  rest,  or  enjoy- 
 ment, except  that  enjoyment  which  may  be  found  in  serving 
 God.  We  shall  have  time  enough  in  the  coming  world  to  rest, 
 and  to  converse  with  our  friends ;  and  it  may  well  reconcile  us 
 to  separation  here,  if  we  hope  to  be  forever  with  them  there. 
 
 The  young  Christian  thinks  it  would  be  best  that  he  should 
 be  always  lively,  zealous,  and  engaged  in  religion ;  that  he 
 should  feel  faith,  love  and  humility  in  constant  exercise,  and 
 be  like  a  flame  of  fire  in  his  Master's  service.  But  our  blessed 
 Teacher  thinks  otherwise.  He  knows  that  the  most  effectual, 
 and,  indeed,  the  only  way,  to  mortify  sin  in  our  hearts,  is  to 
 make  us  hate  it ;  and  the  way  to  make  us  hate  it  is  to  suffer  us 
 
 VOL  I.  66 
 
522 
 
 CHRIST  UNCHANGEABLE. 
 
 to  feel  it.  He  knows  that  the  only  way  to  make  us  fervent  and 
 diligent  in  prayer,  is  to  show  us  how  many  things  we  have  to 
 pray  for,  and  convince  us  of  our  absolute  need  of  his  assistance. 
 He  knows  that  the  best  way  to  make  us  humble  and  contented 
 is  to  show  us  Avhal  we  are,  and  what  we  deserve;  and  that  the 
 only  way  to  wean  us  from  the  world,  is,  to  render  it  a  place  of 
 fatigue  and  uneasiness.  He  knows  that  there  is  nothing  like 
 the  want  of  his  presence  to  teach  us  the  worth  of  it ;  and  noth- 
 ing like  a  sense  of  the  dangerous  nature  of  our  disease,  to  show 
 us  the  value  of  an  almighty  Physician.  Upon  this  plan,  there- 
 fore, it  is,  that  all  his  various  dispensations  towards  Christians 
 are  conducted  ;  and  till  they  are  acquainted  with  this,  they  can- 
 not understand  them. 
 
 CHRIST  UNCHANGEABLE. 
 
 As,  amid  all  the  vicissitudes  of  the  seasons,  the  succession  of 
 day  and  night,  and  the  changes  of  the  weather,  the  sun  remains 
 and  shines  in  the  same  part  of  the  heavens ;  so,  amid  all  the 
 daily  changes  which  the  Christian  experiences,  from  darkness 
 to  light,  and  from  summer  to  winter,  in  calms  and  tempests,  the 
 Sun  of  righteousness  still  continues  the  same  ;  and  'tis  the  same 
 love  and  wisdom  which  leads  him  to  hide  or  to  unveil  his  face. 
 But  the  Christian  is  at  first  ready  to  imagine  that  the  changes 
 in  his  feelings  proceed  from  changes  in  Christ ;  as  those  who 
 do  not  consider  the  motion  of  the  earth,  fancy  that  the  sun 
 really  rises  and  sets. 
 
 Above  all,  I  would  say  to  the  Christian,  never  distrust  the 
 kindness,  the  love,  the  wisdom  and  faithfulness  of  your  Sa- 
 viour ;  but  confide  in  him  who  has  promised  that  all  things 
 shall  work  together  for  your  good.  Though  you  may  not  now 
 know  what  he  is  doing,  you  shall  know  hereafter.  You  will 
 see  the  reason  of  all  the  trials  and  temptations,  the  dark  and 
 comfortless  hours,  the  distressing  doubts  and  fears,  the  long  and 
 tedious  conflicts  with  which  you  are  now  exercised;  and  you 
 will  be  convinced  that  not  a  sigh,  not  a  tear,  not  a  single  uneasy 
 thought  was  allotted  you;  without  some  wise  and  gracious 
 design.  Say  not,  then,  like  Jacob  of  old,  All  these  things  are 
 against  me ;  say  not,  like  David,  I  shall  one  day  perish  by  the 
 hand  of  Saul ;  for  all  these  things  are  for  your  good,  and  you 
 
CHRIST    A  HELPEK. 
 
 523 
 
 shall  never  perish,  neither  shall  any  pluck  you  out  of  Christ's 
 hand.  Why  should  you,  who  are  sons  of  the  King  of  heaven, 
 be  lean  and  discontented  from  day  to  day?  Remember  that,  if 
 you  are  in  the  path  of  the  just,  you  are  the  heir  of  God  and 
 joint  heir  with  Christ,  of  an  inheritance  incorruptible,  eternal, 
 and  that  fadeth  not  away.  Be  not  discouraged  at  the  small 
 progress  you  appear  to  make,  or  the  difficulties  you  may  meet 
 with.  Why  should  the  infant  be  discouraged  because  he  has 
 not  the  strength  of  manhood,  or  the  wisdom  of  age  7  Wait  on 
 the  Lord  in  the  diligent  use  of  his  appointed  means,  and  he  will 
 strengthen  your  hearts,  so  that  you  shall  mount  up  as  on  eagles' 
 wings  ;  you  shall  run,  and  not  be  weary;  you  shall  walk,  and 
 not  faint. 
 
 Who  is  he  that  walketh  in  darkness  and  hath  no  light  7  Let 
 him  trust  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  and  stay  himself  upon  his 
 God.  Let  him  go  to  Jesus,  the  compassionate  Saviour  of  sin- 
 ners, who  heals  the  broken  in  heart,  who  gathers  the  lambs  in 
 his  arms,  and  carries  them  in  his  bosom.  Go,  I  say,  to  him ; 
 tell  him  all  your  griefs  and  sorrows ;  tell  him  that  your  souls 
 cleave  to  the  dust ;  that  iniquities,  doubts  and  fears  prevail 
 against  you ;  that  you  are  poor,  and  miserable,  and  wretched, 
 and  blind  and  naked.  Go  to  his  mercy-seatj  where  he  sits  as  a 
 merciful  High  Priest,  on  purpose  to  give  repentance  and  remis- 
 sion of  sins  ;  go  and  embrace  his  feetj  lay  open  your  whole 
 hearts,  state  all  your  difficulties,  complaints  and  diseases,  and 
 you  will  find  him  infinitely  more  gracious  than  you  can  con- 
 ceive ;  infinitely  more  willing  to  grant  your  requests  than  you 
 are:  to  make  them.  He  is  love  itself;  'tis  his  very  nature  to 
 pity.  Have  you  a  hard  heart? — carry  it  to  him,  and  he  will 
 soften  it.  Have  you  a  blind  mind  ? — he  will  enhghten  it.  Are 
 you  oppressed  with  a  load  of  guilt? — he  will  take  it  off.  Are 
 you  defiled  and  polluted? — he  will  wash  you  in  his  own  blood. 
 Have  you  backslidden? — turn  unto  me,  says  he,  ye  backsliding 
 children,  and  I  will  heal  your  backslidings.  Come,  then,  to 
 Christ,  and  obtain  those  influences  of  his  Spirit  by  which  you 
 shall  be  enabled  to  grow  in  grace  and  in  the  knowledge  of  your 
 Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  So  shall  your  path  be  as  the 
 shining  light,  that  shineth  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day. 
 
524 
 
 THE  BIBLE. 
 
 How  great  are  the  privileges  which  result  from  an  ability  to 
 say,  Christ  is  mine  !  If  Christ  is  yours,  then  all  that  he  possess- 
 es is  yours.  His  power  is  yours,  to  defend  you ;  his  wisdom 
 and  knowledge  are  yours,  to  guide  you ;  his  righteousness  is 
 yours,  to  justify  you  ;  his  spirit  and  grace  are  yours,  to  sancti- 
 fy you ;  his  heaven  is  yours,  to  receive  you.  He  is  as  much 
 yours  as  you  are  his,  and  as  he  requires  all  that  you  have  to  be 
 given  to  him,  so  he  gives  all  that  he  has  to  you.  Come  to  him, 
 then,  with  holy  boldness,  and  take  what  is  your  own.  Remem- 
 ber you  have  already  received  what  is  most  difficult  for  him  to 
 give — his  body,  his  blood,  his  life.  And  surely  he  who  has 
 given  these,  will  not  refuse  you  smaller  blessings.  You  will 
 never  live  happily  or  usefully,  you  will  never  highly  enjoy  or 
 greatly  adorn  religion,  until  you  can  feel  that  Christ,  and  all 
 that  he  possesses,  are  yours,  and  learn  to  come  and  take  them 
 as  your  own. 
 
 THE    BIBLE    ENTIRELY  PRACTICAL. 
 
 We  may  challenge  any  man  to  point  out  a  single  passage  in 
 the  Bible,  which  does  not  either  teach  some  duty,  or  inculcate 
 its  performance,  or  show  the  grounds  on  which  it  rests,  or  ex- 
 hibit reasons  why  we  should  perform  it.  For  instance  ;  all  the 
 preceptive  parts  of  Scripture  prescribe  our  duty ;  all  the  invita- 
 tions invite  us  to  perform  it ;  all  the  promises  and  threatenings 
 are  motives  to  its  performance ;  all  the  cautions  and  admoni- 
 tions warn  us  not  to  neglect  it;  the  historical  parts  inform  us 
 what  have  been  the  consequences  of  neglecting  and  of  per- 
 forming it;  the  prophetical  parts  show  us  what  these  con- 
 sequences will  be  hereafter ;  and  the  doctrinal  parts  .show  us 
 on  what  grounds  the  whole  superstructure  of  duty,  or  of  prac- 
 tical religion,  rests. 
 
 In  the  judgment  of  God  there  is  no  more  henious  sin  than 
 that  of  hearing,  with  unconcern,  his  messages  of  love  and  mer- 
 cy. Doth  not  my  word  do  good  to  him  that  walketh  uprightly? 
 It  always  does.  Yet  Christians  often  go  away  from  hearing 
 the  word  unaffected. 
 
 DUTY    OF    STUDYING    THE  BIBLE. 
 
 The  Scriptures  are  given  to  us  as  a  rich  mine,  in  which  we 
 
PRAYER. 
 
 525 
 
 may  labor,  and  appropriate  to  ourselves  all  the  treasures  we 
 find  ;  and  the  more  diligently  we  labor,  and  the  more  wealth 
 we  obtain,  so  much  the  more  is  the  Giver  pleased.  As  we  can- 
 not be  too  careful  not  to  pry  into  things  secret,  so  we  cannot  be 
 too  diligent  in  searching  into  every  thing  Avhich  God  has  re- 
 vealed. And  if  we  search  in  the  manner  which  he  has  pre- 
 scribed, we  shall  make  all  the  good  things  contained  in  the 
 Scriptures  our  own  in  a  still  higher  sense.  We  shall  make  that 
 God,  that  Saviour,  that  holiness,  that  heaven,  which  the  Bible 
 reveals,  our  own  forever,  our  own  to  possess  and  to  enjoy.  In 
 short,  every  truth  which  it  reveals  is  ours  to  enlighten  us  ;  every 
 precept  is  ours  to  direct  us;  every  admonition  is  ours  to  warn 
 us ;  every  promise  is  ours  to  encourage  and  animate  us.  For 
 these  purposes  God  has  given,  and  for  these  purposes  we  are  to 
 receive  them. 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 We  may  judge  of  the  state  of  our  hearts  by  the  earnestness 
 of  our  prayers.  You  cannot  make  a  rich  man  beg  like  a  poor 
 man ;  you  cannot  make  a  man  that  is  full  cry  for  food  like  one 
 that  is  hungry  :  no  more  will  a  man  who  has  a  good  opinion  of 
 himself,  cry  for  mercy  like  one  who  feels  that  he  is  poor  and 
 needy. 
 
 The  symptoms  of  spiritual  decline  are  like  those  which  at- 
 tend the  decay  of  bodily  health.  It  generally  commences  with 
 loss  of  appetite,  and  a  disrelish  for  spiritual  food,  prayer,  read- 
 ing the  Scriptures,  and  devotional  books.  Whenever  you  per- 
 ceive these  symptoms,  be  alarmed,  for  your  spiritual  health  is 
 in  danger;  apply  immediately  to  the  great  Physician  for  a 
 cure. 
 
 The  best  means  of  keeping  near  to  God  is  the  closet.  Here 
 the  battle  is  won  or  lost. 
 
 If  a  man  begins  to  be  impatient  because  his  prayers  for  any 
 blessings  are  not  answered,  it  is  a  certain  proof,  that  a  self- 
 righteous  dependence  on  his  own  merits  prevails  in  his  heart  to 
 a  great  extent;  for  the  language  of  impatience  is,  I  deserve  the 
 blessing  :  I  had  a  right  to  expect  that  it  would  be  bestowed,  and 
 
 4 
 
526 
 
 PRAISE. 
 
 it  ought  to  have  been  bestowed  ere  this.  It  is  evident  that  a 
 man  who  feels  that  he  deserves  nothing,  will  never  be  impa- 
 tient because  he  receives  nothing ;  but  will  say,  I  have  nothing 
 to  complain  of,  I  receive  as  much  as  I  deserve.  Again, 
 when  a  man  wonders,  or  thinks  it  strange,  that  he  does  not  re- 
 ceive a  blessing  for  which  he  has  prayed,  it  shows  that  he  relies 
 on  his  own  merits.  The  language  of  such  feelings  is,  It  is  very 
 strange  that  I,  who  have  prayed  so  well,  and  so  long,  and  had 
 so  much  reason  to  expect  a  blessing  do  not  receive  it.  Persons 
 Avho  feel  truly  humble,  on  the  contrary,  are  surprised,  not  when 
 blessings  are  withheld,  but  when  they  are  bestowed.  It  ap- 
 pears very  strange  and  wonderful  to  them  that  God  should  be- 
 stow any  favors  on  creatures,  so  unworthy  as  themselves,  or 
 pay  any  regard  to  prayers  so  polluted  as  their  own.  This  is 
 the  temper  to  which  every  person  must  be  brought  before  God 
 will  answer  his  prayers. 
 
 PRAISE. 
 
 No  one  needs  to  be  told,  that  the  surest  method  to  obtain  new 
 favors  from  an  earthly  benefactor,  is  to  be  thankful  for  those 
 which  he  has  already  bestowed.  It  is  the  same  with  respect  to 
 our  heavenly  Benefactor.  Praise  and  thanksgiving  are  even 
 more  prevalent  than  sacrifices  or  prayers.  I  have  somewhere 
 met  with  an  account  of  a  Christian,  who  was  shipwrecked 
 upon  a  desolate  island,  while  all  his  companions  perished  hi  the 
 waves.  In  this  situation,  he  spent  many  days  in  fasting  and 
 prayer,  that  God  would  open  a  way  for  his  deliverance;  but  his 
 prayers  received  no  answer.  At  length,  musing  on  the  goodness 
 of  God,  in  preserving  him  from  the  dangers  of  the  sea,  he  re- 
 solved to  spend  a  day  in  thanksgiving  and  praise,  for  this  and 
 other  favors.  Before  the  conclusion  of  the  day,  a  vessel  arriv- 
 ed, and  restored  him  in  safety  to  his  country  and  friends. 
 Another  instance,  equally  in  point,  we  find  in  the  history  of 
 Solomon.  At  the  dedication  of  the  temple,  many  prayers  Avere 
 made,  and  many  sacrifices  offered,  without  any  token  of  the 
 divine  acceptance.  But  when  singers  and  players  on  instru- 
 ments began  as  one  to  make  one  sound  to  be  heard,  in  praising 
 and  thanking  the  Lord,  saying,  For  he  is  good,  for  his  mercy 
 endureth  forever  ;  then  the  glory  of  the  Lord  descended  and 
 filled  the  temple.    The  reason  why  praise  and  thanksgiving  are 
 
THE    lord's  supper. 
 
 527 
 
 thus  prevalent  with  God,  is,  that  they,  above  all  other  duties, 
 glorify  Him.  Whoso  offereth  praise,  says  he,  glorifieth  me ; 
 and  those  who  thus  honor  him,  he  will  honor. 
 
 THE    lord's  supper. 
 
 At  the  communion  table  we  are  in  fact  assembled  to  attend 
 our  Saviour's  funeral,  to  look  at  his  dead  body,  as  we  look  at 
 the  countenance  of  a  deceased  friend  before  the  coffin  is  closed. 
 And  if  every  wrong,  every  worldly  feeling  should  die  away, 
 while  we  are  contemplating  the  corpse  of  a  friend,  how  much 
 more  ought  this  to  be  the  case,  when  this  friend  is  Christ !  I 
 think  it  may  be  profitable  sometimes  to  shut  ourselves  up  in 
 imagination,  in  our  Saviour's  tomb,  and  feel  as  if  he  were  there 
 buried  with  us. 
 
 At  the  table  of  our  Lord,  each  of  us  should  recollect  the  per- 
 sonal favors  and  marks  of  kindness,  which  he  has  himself  re- 
 ceived from  Christ,  or  through  his  mediation.  Our  temporal 
 mercies,  our  spiritual  privileges  should  all  pass  in  review.  We 
 should  look  back  to  the  never  to  be  forgotten  time  of  love,  when 
 he  found  us  poor,  miserable,  wretched,  blind  and  naked ;  dead 
 in  trespasses  and  sins,  having  no  hope,  and  without  God  in  the 
 world.  We  should  remember  how  he  pitied  us,  awakened  us, 
 convinced  us  of  sin,  and  drew  us  to  himself  by  the  cords  of 
 love.  We  should  remember  how  often  he  has  since  healed  our 
 backslidings,  pardoned  our  sins,  borne  with  our  unbelief,  ingrat- 
 itude, and  slowness  to  learn  ;  supplied  our  Avants,  listened  to 
 our  complaints,  alleviated  our  sorrows,  and  revived  our  droop- 
 ing spirits  when  we  were  ready  to  faint.  In  short,  we  must  re- 
 member all  the  way  by  which  he  has  led  us,  these  many  years, 
 through  a  wilderness  of  sins,  sorrows,  trials  and  temptations. 
 Thus  we  shall  be  convinced  that  no  sickly  infant  ever  cost  its 
 mother  a  thousandth  part  of  the  care,  and  labor,  and  suffering, 
 which  we  have  cost  our  Saviour  ;  and  that  no  mother  has  ever 
 shown  her  infant  a  thousandth  part  of  the  watchful  tenderness, 
 which  our  Saviour  has  shown  to  us. 
 
 Was  Christ  a  man  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief 'J 
 Then,  Christians,  we  need  not  be  surprised  or  offended,  if  we 
 are  often  called  to  drink  of  the  cup  of  sorrows ;  if  we  find  this 
 
528 
 
 RELATIVE  DUTIES, 
 
 world  a  vale  of  tears.  This  is  one  of  the  ways  in  which  we 
 must  be  conformed  to  our  glorious  Head.  Indeed,  his  example 
 has  sanctified  grief,  and  almost  rendered  it  pleasant  to  mourn. 
 One  would  think  that  Christians  could  scarcely  wish  to  go 
 rejoicing  through  a  world,  which  their  Master  passed  through 
 mourning.  The  paths  in  which  we  follow  him  are  bedewed 
 with  his  tears,  and  stained  with  his  blood.  It  is  true,  that  from 
 the  ground  thus  watered  and  fertilized,  many  rich  flowers  and 
 fruits  of  paradise  spring  up  to  refresh  us,  in  which  we  may,  and 
 ought  to  rejoice.  But  still  our  joy  sould  be  softened  and  sancti- 
 fied by  godly  sorrow.  When  we  are  partaking  of  the  feast 
 which  his  love  has  spread  for  us,  we  should  never  forget  how 
 dearly  it  was  purchased. 
 
 "  There's  not  a  gift  his  hand  bestows 
 But  cost  his  heart  a  groan." 
 
 The  joy,  the  honor,  the  glory,  through  eternity,  shall  be  ours ; 
 but  the  sorrows,  the  sufferings,  the  agonies  which  purchased  it, 
 were  all  his  own. 
 
 RELATIVE     DUTIES    OF  CHRISTIANS. 
 
 Since  all  Christians  are  members  of  the  same  body,  they 
 ought  not  to  envy  each  other.  What  could  be  more  absurd 
 than  for  the  eye  to  envy  the  dexterity  of  the  hand,  or  the  feet 
 to  em''y  the  perspicuity  of  the  eye  which  directed  their  motions, 
 and  prevented  them  from  running  into  danger?  Still  more 
 absurd  is  it,  if  possible,  for  one  Christian  to  envy  the  gifts,  or 
 graces,  or  usefulness  of  another,  since  the  whole  body,  and  he 
 amongst  the  rest,  enjoys  the  benefit  of  them.  The  fact  is, 
 whenever  God  bestows  a  favor  on  any  Christian,  he  does,  in 
 effect,  confer  a  favor  on  all ;  just  as  when  a  man  heals,  or 
 clothes  one  part  of  the  body,  he  confers  a  benefit  on  the  whole. 
 Rejoice,  and  bless  God,  then,  Christians,  when  he  honors  or 
 favors  any  fellow  Christian,  for  it  is  an  act  of  kindness  done  to 
 you,  and  will  promote  your  present  and  eternal  felicity. 
 
 No  Christian  should  be  dissatisfied  with  his  lot  if  poor  and 
 despised,  or  indulge  pride  if  honored  und  prospered.  Every 
 one  is  in  that  place  which  infinite  wisdom  sees  best  for  him,  and 
 
LOVE    ONE  ANOTHER. 
 
 529 
 
 the  most  highly  favored  Christians  are,  in  many  respects,  de- 
 pendent on  the  lowest.  The  eye  cannot  say  to  the  hand,  I  have 
 no  need  of  you.  If  the  whole  body  were  an  eye,  where  were 
 the  hearing?  and  if  the  whole  body  were  hearuig,  where  were 
 the  smelling  ?  But  now  God  hath  set  the  members  in  the  body, 
 every  one  as  it  hath  pleased  him,  and  it  is  the  same  in  the  great 
 body  of  Christ. 
 
 It  is  incumbent  on  every  Christian  to  ascertain  for  what  he  is 
 qualified,  and  what  service  he  is  called  to  perform,  for  the  body 
 of  which  he  is  a  member.  You  can  easily  conceive  what  would 
 be  the  consequence,  in  the  human  body,  should  the  feet  attempt 
 to  perform  the  work  of  the  hands,  or  the  hands,  the  office  of  the 
 eye.  Almost  equally  pernicious  and  ridiculous  are  the  conse- 
 quences occasioned  by  the  self-ignorance,  vanity,  or  false  mod- 
 esty of  many  Christians.  They  either  do  not  know  their  place, 
 or  if  they  do,  will  not  perform  the  duties  of  it.  Hence  some 
 will  attempt  to  perform  the  duty  of  social  prayer,  or  of  exhor- 
 tation, or  of  expounding  the  Scriptures,  whom  God  never  design- 
 ed, and  therefore  never  qualified  for  that  work,  and  who,  of 
 course,  cannot  perform  it  in  an  edifying,  acceptable  manner ; 
 while  others,  whom  he  had  thus  qualified,  for  some  cause  or 
 other,  decline  attempting  it.  Hence  it  is  too  often  the  case,  that 
 a  church  of  Christ,  instead  of  resembling  a  well-organized  body 
 in  which  the  several  members  know  and  keep  their  place,  and 
 perform  its  duties,  resembles  a  disorderly  family,  in  which  no 
 one  knows  his  employment,  and,  of  course,  there  is  nothing  but 
 confusion  and  complaint. 
 
 LOVE    ONE  ANOTHER. 
 
 There  are  some  Christians  whom  it  is  not  very  easy  to  love, 
 on  account  of  some  disagreeable  peculiarities  about  them ;  but 
 we  shall  love  them  hereafter,  as  we  love  our  own  souls,  and 
 they  will  love  us,  in  a  similar  manner.  Besides,  our  Saviour 
 loves  them,  notwithstanding  all  these  imperfections  ;  and  ought 
 not  our  affections  to  follow  his  7  If  he  were  now  visibly  on 
 earth,  and  we  were  permitted  to  stand  by  his  side,  if  we  saw 
 him  bend  a  look  of  love  on  any  individual,  would  not  our  affec- 
 tions immediately  flow  out  tov/ards  that  person,  however  disa- 
 greeable or  imperfect  he  might  be  7  Such  a  look  our  Saviour 
 does  bend  on  the  most  unlovely  of  his  disciples.  Let  us,  then, 
 love  them  all,  for  his  sake.  vol.  i. 
 
530 
 
 UNIVERSAL    LAW    OF  BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 "  Not  for  ourselves,  but  others" — is  the  grand  law  of  nature, 
 inscribed  by  the  hand  of  God  on  every  part  of  creation.  Not 
 for  itself,  but  others,  does  the  sun  dispense  its  beams ;  not  for 
 themselves,  but  others,  do  the  clouds  distil  their  showers;  not 
 for  herself,  but  others,  does  the  earth  unlock  her  treasures  ;  not 
 for  themselves,  but  others,  do  the  trees  produce  their  fruits,  or 
 the  flowers  diffuse  their  fragrance  and  display  their  various 
 hues.  So,  not  for  himself,  but  others,  are  the  blessings  of  Heav- 
 en bestowed  on  man ;  and  whenever,  instead  of  diffusing  them 
 around,  he  devotes  them  exclusively  to  his  own  gratification, 
 and  shuts  himself  up  in  the  dark  and  flinty  caverns  of  selfish- 
 ness, he  transgresses  the  great  law  of  creation — he  cuts  himself 
 off  from  the  created  universe,  and  its  Author — he  sacrilegiously 
 converts  to  his  own  use  the  favors  which  were  given  him  for 
 the  relief  of  others,  and  must  be  considered,  not  only  as  an 
 unprofitable,  but  as  a  fraudulent  servant,  who  has  worse  than 
 wasted  his  Lord's  money.  He,  who  thus  lives  only  to  himself, 
 and  consumes  the  bounty  of  Heaven  upon  his  lusts,  or  conse- 
 crates it  to  the  demon  of  avarice,  is  a  barren  rock  in  a  fertile 
 plain  ;  he  is  a  thorny  bramble  in  a  fruitful  vineyard  ;  he  is  the 
 grave  of  God's  blessings ;  he  is  the  very  Arabia  Deserta  of  the 
 moral  world.  And  if  he  is  highly  exalted  in  wealth  or  power, 
 he  stands,  inaccessible  and  strong,  like  an  insulated  towering 
 cliff,  which  exhibits  only  a  cold  and  cheerless  prospect,  inter- 
 cepts the  genial  beams  of  the  sun,  chills  the  vales  below  with 
 its  gloomy  shade,  adds  fresh  keenness  to  the  freezing  blast,  and 
 tempts  down  the  lightnings  of  angry  heaven.  How  different 
 this  from  the  gently-rising  hill,  clothed  to  its  summit  with 
 fruits  and  flowers,  which  attracts  and  receives  the  dews  of  heav- 
 en, and  retaining  only  sufficient  to  supply  its  numerous  off- 
 spring, sends  the  remainder  in  a  thousand  streams  to  bless  the 
 vales  which  lie  at  its  feet ! 
 
 DUTIES  TO  THE  HEATHEN. 
 
 It  is  a  fact  that  vigorous  and  persevering  exertions  in  favor  of 
 religion  abroad,  naturally  excite,  and  are  inseparably  connected 
 with  similar  and  successful  exertions  at  home.  Witness  the  ex- 
 ample of  Great  Britain.  While  she  was  reaching  the  full  cup 
 of  life  and  salvation  to  other  countries,  tlie  drops  which  fell  from 
 it  refreshed  and  fertilized  her  own.    Witness  the  present  reli- 
 
RELIGIOUS  CONSISTENCY. 
 
 531 
 
 gious  situation  of  our  own  country.  Never,  in  the  same  space 
 of  time,  was  so  much  done  for  its  amelioration  ;  never  were  the 
 Scriptures  so  generally  diffused  among  us ;  never  were  our  do- 
 mestic missions  in  so  prosperous  a  state ;  never  were  their  en- 
 deavors crowned  with  so  much  success,  as  since  we  began  to 
 send  Bibles  and  missionaries  to  the  heathen.  God  has  been 
 pouring  out  spiritual  blessings  upon  our  churches,  our  towns, 
 our  villages  and  our  schools;  and  thus,  for  every  missionary 
 whom  we  have  sent  abroad,  he  has  given  us  ten  to  labor  at 
 home.  If  we  wish  to  obtain  greater  blessings  of  a  similar  kind, 
 we  must  seek  them  in  a  similar  way.  If  vice  and  infidelity  are 
 to  be  finally  conquered,  and  banished  from  our  country,  the  bat- 
 tle must  be  fought,  and  the  victory  won,  on  the  plains  of  India. 
 
 True  charity  receives  her  instructions,  as  well  as  her  exis- 
 tence, from  faith  in  God's  word  ;  and  when  faith  points  to  hu- 
 man beings  in  danger,  charity,  without  delaying  to  propose  ques- 
 tions, hastens  to  their  relief. 
 
 Our  houses  are  built,  our  vineyards  are  planted,  around  the 
 base  of  a  volcano.  They  may  be  fair  and  flourishing  to-day — 
 to-morrow,  ashes  may  be  all  that  remains.  Open  your  hands 
 wide,  then,  while  they  contain  any  blessings  to  bestow ;  for  of 
 that  which  you  give,  you  can  never  be  deprived. 
 
 SEE  THAT  YE  ABOUND  IN  THIS  GRACE  ALSO, 
 
 Unless  we  strenuously  aim  at  universal  holiness,  we  can  have  ' 
 no  satisfactory  evidence,  that  we  are  the  servants  of  Christ.  A 
 servant  of  Christ  is  one  that  obeys  Christ  as  his  master,  and 
 makes  Christ's  revealed  word  the  rule  of  his  conduct.  No  man, 
 then,  can  have  any  evidence  that  he  is  a  servant  of  Christ  any 
 further  than  he  obeys  the  will  of  Christ.  And  no  man  can  have 
 any  evidence  that  he  obeys  the  will  of  Christ  in  one  particular, 
 unless  he  sincerely  and  strenuously  aims  to  obey  in  every  par- 
 ticular— for  the  will  of  Christ  is  one. 
 
 In  consequence  of  their  natural  constitution,  of  the  circum- 
 stances in  which  they  are  placed,  or  of  the  absence  of  tempta- 
 tion, most  Christians  find  it  comparatively  easy  to  avoid  some 
 sins,  to  be  exemplary  in  the  performance  of  some  duties,  and  to 
 
632 
 
 RELIGIOUS  CONSISTENCY. 
 
 cultivate  some  branches  of  the  Christian  temper  with  success. 
 One  man,  for  instance,  enjoys  much  leisure  and  has  a  taste  for 
 study;  hence  the  acquisition  of  religious  knowledge  becomes 
 easy  to  him.  Another  is  blessed  with  a  mild  and  amiable  dis- 
 position, and  of  course  can  regulate  his  temper  without  much 
 difficulty.  A  third  is  constitutionally  liberal,  and  can  therefore 
 contribute  readily  to  religious  and  charitable  objects.  A  fourth 
 is  quiet  and  retiring,  and  is  for  this  reason  little  tempted  to  pride, 
 ambition,  or  discontent.  A  fifth  is  naturally  bold  and  ardent. 
 Of  course,  he  can  easily  overcome  indolence  and  the  fear  of  man. 
 In  a  word,  there  are  a  very  few  Christians,  who,  for  these  and 
 other  similar  reasons,  do  not  in  some  respects  excel.  But  the 
 evil  is  that  they  are  prone,  though  perhaps  without  being  sensi- 
 ble of  it,  to  attach  an  undue  importance  to  that  grace  or  duty 
 in  which  they  excel,  to  make  the  whole  of  religion  to  consist  in 
 it,  and  to  neglect  other  things  of  equal  importance,  the  perfor- 
 mance of  which  they  would  find  more  difficult.  Nay,  more; 
 they  secretly  regard  the  eminence  which  they  have  attained  in 
 some  respects,  as  an  excuse  for  great  deficiencies  in  others;  and 
 endeavor  to  atone  for  a  neglect  of  self-denying  duties,  by  attend- 
 ing with  peculiar  zeal  to  those  duties  which  are  more  easy. 
 
 One  man,  for  instance,  is  lukewarm  in  his  affections,  formal 
 in  his  devotions,  and  makes  little  progress  in  subduing  his  sinful 
 propensities.  But  he  comforts  himself  with  the  hope  that  his 
 knowledge  of  religious  truth  is  increasing.  Another,  Avho  neg- 
 lects to  improve  opportunities  for  acquiring  religious  knowledge, 
 derives  consolation  from  the  warmth  of  his  zeal,  and  the  liveli- 
 ness of  his  affections.  One  person  is  by  no  means  disposed  to 
 contribute  liberally  for  the  promotion  of  Christ's  cause  and  the 
 relief  of  the  poor;  but  he  hopes  to  atone  for  his  deficiency  in 
 this  respect,  by  the  frequency  and  fervency  of  his  prayers. 
 Another  neglects  prayer,  meditation  and  communion  with  God, 
 but  he  quiets  himself  by  pleading  the  pressure  of  worldly  busi- 
 ness, and  by  liberal  contributions  for  religious  and  charitable 
 purposes.  Thus,  as  there  are  few  Christians  who  do  not  excel 
 in  some  respects,  there  are  few  who  are  not,  in  some  respects, 
 exceedingly  deficient.  Small  indeed  is  the  number  of  those 
 who  sedulously  strive  to  stand  perfect  and  complete  in  all  the 
 will  of  God. 
 
CHRIST  GLORIFIED. 
 
 533 
 
 Nothing  is  more  common  than  to  meet  with  Christians  who 
 in  many  respects  are  eminently  and  exemplarily  pious,  but  who, 
 by  some  sinful  imprudence  or  defect,  render  their  characters  vul- 
 nerable, destroy  all  the  good  effects  of  their  example,  and  dis- 
 honor instead  of  adorning  religion.  They  resemble  a  beauti- 
 ful and  well-proportioned  body,  which  has  been  disfigured  by  a 
 wound,  or  which  has  lost  a  limb,  or  some  member  of  which  is 
 disproportionably  large.  While  in  some  respects  they  are  giants, 
 in  others  they  are  mere  dwarfs.  Hence  not  only  their  reputa- 
 tion, but  their  influence,  their  comfort,  their  usefulness  are  im- 
 paired, and  they  adorn  religion  less  than  many  others  who  are  in 
 many  respects  greatly  their  inferiors,  but  who  are  more  uniform 
 and  consistent  in  their  conduct. 
 
 Christ  commands  us,  whether  we  eat  or  drink,  or  whatever 
 we  do,  to  do  all  to  the  glory  of  God.  Perhaps  some  will  ask, 
 How  is  this  possible?  We  cannot  be  always  thinking  of  God; 
 we  must  attend  to  our  business,  provide  for  our  own  wants  and 
 those  of  our  families.  True  —  but  look  at  a  man  about  to  send 
 a  ship  to  a  foreign  port.  As  he  purchases  his  cargo,  and  makes 
 the  requisite  preparations,  he  considers  what  articles  are  most 
 suitable  for  the  market;  what  provisions  most  necessary  for  the 
 voyage;  how  the  ship  is  to  be  rigged  and  manned;  in  short,  all 
 his  plans  are  laid  with  reference  to  the  end  of  the  voyage.  So 
 the  Christian,  though  not  always  thinking  of  heaven,  should 
 take  care  that  all  his  business  and  all  his  pleasures  may  forward 
 his  journey  thither,  and  promote  his  great  object  of  preparation 
 for  that  abode  of  blessedness. 
 
 CHRIST    GLORIFIED    IN    HIS  CHURCH. 
 
 When  we  look  at  the  sun,  we  only  perceive  that  it  is  a  bright 
 and  glorious  luminary.  But  when  we  behold  the  earth  ia 
 spring,  in  summer  or  autumn,  clothed  with  luxuriant  vegetation, 
 adorned  with  flowers,  and  enlivened  by  myriads  of  sportive, 
 happy  beings ;  when  we  compare  this  state  of  things  with  the 
 rigors,  the  frost,  the  barrenness  of  winter,  recollect  that  the  sun 
 is,  instrumentally,  the  cause  of  this  mighty  difference,  and  re- 
 flect how  gloomy  and  desolate  our  world  would  be,  if  wholly 
 deprived  of  its  beams ;  we  have  far  more  clear  and  enlarged 
 conceptions  of  the  value  and  excellence  of  this  luminary.  The 
 
534 
 
 DIRECTIONS    TO  CHRISTIANS. 
 
 sun  is  then,  if  I  may  so  express  it,  glorified  in  the  earth,  and 
 admired  in  all  the  productions  and  beneficial  effects  which  result 
 from  his  influence.  In  a  similar  manner  will  Christ,  the  Sun  of 
 righteousness,  be  glorified  and  admired  in  his  people.  It  will 
 then  be  clearly  seen  how  much  mercy  was  necessary  to  pardon 
 their  sins,  how  much  grace  was  rec[uired  to  sanctify,  preserve 
 and  glorify  them;  how  much  wisdom,  goodness  and  power  were 
 displayed  in  debasing  and  executing  the  wondrous  plan  of  their 
 redemption.  They  will  not,  therefore,  be  admired,  but  Christ 
 will  be  seen  and  admired  in  them.  The  assembled  universe  will 
 be  ready  to  exclaim,  with  one  voice,  How  infinitely  powerful, 
 wise,  and  good  must  he  be,  who  could  transform  sinful,  guilty 
 worms  of  the  dust,  into  beings  so  perfectly  glorious  and  lovely ! 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS  DIEECTIONS    TO  CHRISTIANS. 
 
 God  commands  all  men  to  repent.  Christians  have  enough 
 to  repent  of  daily;  and  if  they  are  not  in  a  penitent  frame,  they 
 justify  impenitent  sinners. 
 
 Let  your  great  Physician  heal  you  in  his  own  way.  Only 
 follow  his  directions  and  take  the  medicine  which  he  prescribes, 
 and  then  quietly  leave  the  result  with  him. 
 
 What  God  calls  a  man  to  do,  he  will  carry  him  through.  I 
 would  undertake  to  govern  half  a  dozen  Avorlds,  if  God  called 
 me  to  do  it ;  but  I  would  not  undertake  to  govern  half  a  dozen 
 sheep  unless  God  called  me  to  it. 
 
 To  a  person  who  has  been  frustrated  in  a  benevolent  design: 
 —  "I  congratulate  you,  and  anticipate  your  eventual  success.  I 
 do  not  recollect  ever  to  have  succeeded  in  any  thing  of  importance, 
 in  which  I  did  not  meet  with  some  rebuff",  at  the  commence- 
 ment. " 
 
 THE    WAY    TO    CURE   A    COVETOUS  SPIRIT. 
 
 Suppose  you  were  to  pass  over  a  pit  which  had  no  bottom, 
 would  you  endeavor  to  fill  it  up  ,  or  bridge  it  over? 
 
 Anticipated  sorrows  are  harder  to  bear  than  real  ones,  because 
 Christ  does  not  support  us  under  them.    In  every  slough  wo 
 
DIRECTIONS    TO  CHRISTIANS. 
 
 635 
 
 may  see  the  footsteps  of  Christ's  flock  who  have  gone  before  us. 
 
 Christian  friends,  when  separated  from  each  other's  society, 
 may  derive  comfort  from  the  reflection,  that  God  is  able  to  ex- 
 tend a  hand  to  two  of  his  children  at  the  same  time,  however 
 remote  may  be  their  places  of  habitation. 
 
 Every  thing  we  do  or  say  should  be  immediately  tried  by  a 
 little  court  within  our  own  breasts.  Our  motives  should  be  ex- 
 amined, and  a  decision  made  on  the  spot. 
 
 Our  best  rule  is,  to  give  God  the  same  place  in  our  hearts, 
 that  he  holds  in  the  universe.  We  must  make  him  all  in  all. 
 We  should  act  as  if  there  were  no  beings  in  the  universe  but 
 God  and  ourselves. 
 
 As  the  eye  which  has  gazed  at  the  sun,  cannot  immediately  dis- 
 cern any  other  object ;  as  the  man  who  has  been  accustomed  to 
 behold  the  ocean,  turns  with  contempt  from  a  stagnant  pool,  so 
 the  mind  which  has  contemplated  eternity,  overlooks  and  des- 
 pises the  things  of  time. 
 
 If  at  any  time  you  have  enlargement  in  prayer  and  are  fa- 
 vored with  access  to  the  throne  of  grace,  do  not  go  away  satis- 
 fied and  self-complacent.  Pride  says,  "I  have  done  very  well 
 now;  God  will  accept  this."  You  perhaps  discover  that  this  is 
 the  suggestion  of  pride ;  it  then  takes  a  new  turn.  Another 
 would  not  have  discovered  it  to  be  pride;  I  must  be  very  humble 
 to  see  it  thus.  Thus  if  \ou  continue  the  search,  you  will  find 
 pride,  like  the  different  coats  of  an  onion,  lurking  one  beneath 
 another  to  the  very  centre. 
 
 Praise  Christ  for  every  thing.  He  is  the  foundation  of  every 
 good  thought,  desire  and  affection.  It  should  be  our  aim  to  draw 
 all  we  can  from  him  by  prayer,  and  return  him  all  we  can  by 
 praise. 
 
 O    death!    where    IS    THY  STING? 
 
 The  power  of  death,  the  last  enemy,  is  destroyed,  as  it  respects 
 all  who  believe  in  Christ.    Instead  of  being  the  jailer  of  hell 
 
536 
 
 TO  MINISTERS. 
 
 and  tho  grave,  he  is  now,  as  it  respects  Christ's  people,  the  porter 
 of  paradise.  All  he  can  now  do  is  to  cause  them  to  sleep  in  Je- 
 sus, release  their  immortal  spirits  from  the  fetters  which  bind 
 them  to  earth,  and  deposite  their  weary  bodies  in  the  tomb,  as 
 a  place  of  rest,  till  Christ  comes  at  the  last  day,  to  raise  them 
 incorruptible,  glorious  and  immortal ;  and  reunite  them  to  their 
 souls  in  a  state  of  perfect,  never-ending  felicity. 
 
 TO  THE  MINISTERS  OF  CHRIST. 
 
 Every  benevolent  person  is  gratified  by  being  made  the  bear- 
 er of  pleasing  intelligence.  The  messenger,  who  is  commissioned 
 to  open  the  prison  doors  of  an  insolvent  debtor,  or  pardoned 
 criminal,  and  restore  him  to  the  embraces  of  his  family ;  the  of- 
 ficer, who  is  sent  by  his  commander  in  chief  to  carry  home 
 tidings  of  an  important  victory;  and  still  more  the  ambassador, 
 who  is  appointed  to  proclaim  pardon  and  peace,  in  his  sovereign's 
 name,  to  conquered  rebels;  thinks  himself,  and  is  thought  by 
 others,  to  have  received  no  common  favor.  Should  God  put 
 into  your  hands  the  wonder-working  rod  of  Moses ;  should  he 
 commission  and  enable  you  to  work  miracles  of  beneficence,  to 
 enrich  the  poor,  to  comfort  the  miserable,  to  restore  sight  to  the 
 blind,  hearing  to  the  deaf,  health  to  the  diseased,  and  life  to  the 
 dead ;  you  would  esteem  it  a  favor  and  honor,  incomparably 
 greater  than  earthly  monarchs  can  bestow.  But  in  committing 
 the  gospel  to  your  c^re,  God  has  conferred  on  you  honors  and 
 favors,  compared  with  which,  even  the  power  of  working  mira- 
 cles is  a  trifle.  He  has  put  into  your  hands  the  cross  of  Christ, 
 an  instrument  of  far  greater  eflicacy  than  the  rod  of  Moses 
 He  has  sent  you  to  proclaim  the  most  joyful  tidings  that  heaven 
 can  desire,  or  that  earth  can  hear.  He  has  sent  you  to  preach 
 deliverance  to  captives,  the  recovery  of  sight  to  the  blind,  the 
 balm  of  Gileadand  the  great  Physician  to  the  spiritually  wound- 
 ed and  diseased,  salvation  to  the  self-destroyed,  an-d  everlasting 
 life  to  the  dead.  In  a  word,  he  commissions  and  enables  them 
 to  work  miracles,  not  upon  the  bodies,  but  upon  the  souls  of  men; 
 miracles  not  merely  of  power,  but  of  grace  and  mercy  ;  miracles, 
 to  perform  which,  an  angel  would  think  himself  highly  honored, 
 in  being  sent  down  from  heaven;  miracles  from  the  performance 
 of  which  it  is  difficult  to  say  whether  greater  glory  redounds  to 
 God,  or  greater  happiness  to  man.    Well  then  may  every  min- 
 
HEAVEN. 
 
 637 
 
 ister  of  Christ  exclaim  with  Paul,  I  thank  my  God  for  that  he 
 counted  me  faithful,  putting  me  into  the  ministry. 
 
 Though,  in  committing  the  gospel  to  their  trust,  God  has 
 conferred  on  ministers  the  greatest  honor  and  favor  which  can 
 be  given  to  mortals,  yet,  like  all  other  favors,  it  brings  with  it 
 a  great  increase  of  responsibility.  Remember  that  the  more 
 highly  any  one  is  exalted,  in  this  respect,  the  more  difficult  it 
 becomes  to  stand,  and  the  more  dangerous  it  is  to  fall.  He  who 
 falls  from  a  pulpit  seldom  stops  short  of  the  lowest  abyss  in 
 hell. 
 
 HAPPINESS    OF  HEAVEN. 
 
 Only  to  be  permitted  to  contemplate  such  a  being  as  Jehovah^ 
 to  see  goodness,  holiness,  justice,  mercy,  long-suffering  and 
 sovereignty  personified  and  condensed;  to  see  them  united  with 
 eternity,  infinite  power,  unerring  wisdom,  omnipresence  and  all 
 sufficiency ;  to  see  all  these  natural  and  moral  perfections  indis- 
 solubly  united  and  blended  in  sweet  harmony  in  a  pure,  spiritual 
 being,  and  that  being  placed  on  the  throne  of  the  universe  ; — I  say 
 to  see  this  would  be  happiness  enough  to  fill  the  mind  of  any 
 creature  in  existence.  But  in  addition  to  this,  to  have  this  inef- 
 fable being  for  our  God,  our  portion,  our  all ;  to  be  permitted 
 to  say.  This  God  is  our  God  forever  and  ever;  to  have  his  re- 
 splendent countenance  smile  upon  us ;  to  be  encircled  in  his 
 everlasting  arms  of  power,  and  faithfulness,  and  love,  to  hear 
 his  voice  saying  to  us,  I  am  yours,  and  you  are  mine;  nothing 
 shall  ever  pluck  you  from  my  hands,  or  separate  you  from  my 
 love,  but  you  shall  be  with  me  where  I  am,  behold  my  glory, 
 and  live  to  reign  with  me  forever  and  ever;  this  is  too  much; 
 it  is  honor,  it  is  glory,  it  is  happiness  too  overwhelming,  too 
 transporting  for  mortal  minds  to  conceive,  or  for  mortal  frames 
 to  support ;  and  it  is  perhaps  well  for  us  that  here  we  know  but 
 in  part,  and  that  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be.  O 
 then,  in  all  circumstances,  under  all  inward  and  outward  afflic- 
 tions, let  God's  Israel  rejoice  in  their  Creator,  let  the  children  of 
 Zion  be  joyful  in  their  King. 
 
 You  have,  doubtless,  often  observed  that  when  your  minds 
 have  been  intently  and  pleasingly  occupied,  you  have  become 
 almost  unconscious  of  the  flight  of  time ;  mmutes  and  hours 
 
 VOL.  I.  08 
 
538 
 
 HEAVEN. 
 
 have  flown  away,  with,  apparently,  unusual  swiftness,  and  the 
 setting  or  rising  sun  has  surprised  you,  long  before  you  expected 
 its  approach.  But  in  heaven,  the  saints  will  be  entirely  lost 
 and  swallowed  up  in  God  ;  and  tlieir  minds  will  be  so  com- 
 pletely absorbed' in  the  contemplation  of  his  ineffable,  infinite, 
 uncreated,  glories,  that  they  will  be  totally  unconscious  how 
 time,  or,  rather,  how  eternity  passes ;  and  not  only  years,  but 
 millions  of  ages,  such  as  we  call  ages,  will  be  flown  ere  they 
 are  aware.  Thus,  a  thousand  years  will  seem  to  them  but  as 
 one  day,  and  yet  so  great,  so  ecstatic  will  be  their  happiness, 
 that  one  day  will  be  as  a  thousand  years.  And  as  there  will  be 
 nothing  to  interrupt  them,  no  bodily  wants  to  call  olT  their 
 attention,  no  weariness  to  compel  them  to  rest,  no  vicissitude  of 
 seasons  or  of  day  and  night  to  disturb  their  contemplations  ;  it 
 is  more  than  possible  that  innumerable  ages  may  pass  away, 
 before  they  think  of  asking  how  long  they  have  been  in  heaven, 
 or  even  before  they  are  conscious  that  a  single  hour  has  elapsed. 
 
 How  often.  Christians,  have  your  hearts  been  made  to  burn 
 with  love,  and  gratitude,  and  admiration,  and  joy,  while  Christ 
 has  opened  to  you  the  Scriptures,  and  caused  you  to  know  a 
 little  of  that  love  which  passeth  knowledge !  How  often  has 
 one  transient  glimpse  of  the  light  of  God's  countenance  turned 
 your  night  into  day,  banished  your  sorrows,  supported  you  under 
 heavy  afflictions,  and  caused  you  to  rejoice  with  joy  unspeaka- 
 ble and  full  of  glory !  Oh,  then,  what  must  it  be  to  escape 
 forever  from  error,  and  ignorance,  and  darkness,  and  sin,  into 
 the  region  of  bright,  unclouded,  eternal  day ;  to  see  your  God 
 and  Redeemer,  face  to  face ;  continually  to  contemplate,  with 
 immortal  strength,  glories  so  dazzlingly  bright,  that  one  mo- 
 ment's view  of  them  would  now,  like  a  stream  of  lightning, 
 turn  your  frail  bodies  into  dust ;  to  see  the  eternal  volume  of  the 
 divine  counsels,  the  mighty  map  of  the  divine  mind ;  unfolded 
 to  your  eager,  piercing  gaze;  to  explore  the  heights  and  depths, 
 the  lengths  and  breadths  of  the  Redeemer's  love,  and  still  to 
 see  new  wonders,  glories  and  beauties  pouring  upon  your  minds, 
 in  constant,  endless  succession,  calling  forth  new  songs  of 
 praise; — songs  in  which  you  will  unite,  not,  as  now,  with  mor- 
 tal companions  and  mortal  voices,  but  with  the  innumerable 
 choir  of  angels,  with  the  countless  myriads  of  the  redeemed,  all 
 
A    JEWEL    FOE    YOUR  OWN. 
 
 539 
 
 shouting  with  a  voice  like  the  voice  of  many  waters,  Alleluia, 
 for  the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reigneth  ! 
 
 The  following  anecdotes  are  extracted  from  the  Religious 
 Magazine. 
 
 One  day,  he  went  to  visit  a  mother,  who  was  disconsolate  from 
 the  loss  of  a  child.    He  said  to  her  as  follows : — 
 
 "  Suppose,  now,  some  one  was  making  a  beautiful  crown  for 
 you  to  wear ;  and  you  knew  it  was  for  you,  and  that  you  were 
 to  receive  it  and  wear  it  aS  soon  as  it  should  be  done.  Now,  if 
 the  maker  of  it  were  to  come,  and,  in  order  to  make  the  crown 
 more  beautiful  and  splendid,  were  to  take  some  of  your  jewels, 
 to  put  into  it, — should  you  be  sorrowful  and  unhappy,  because 
 they  were  taken  away  for  a  little  while,  when  you  knew  they 
 were  gone  to  make  up  your  crown  ?" 
 
 The  mother  said,  that  no  one  could  conceive  of  the  relief,  the 
 soothing,  quieting  influence  which  this  comparison  had  on  her 
 mind. 
 
 On  another  occasion  he  went  to  see  a  sick  person,  who  was 
 very  much  troubled,  because  she  could  not  keep  lier  mind  all  the 
 time  fixed  upon  Christ,  on  account  of  the  distracting  influences 
 of  her  sufferings,  and  the  various  objects  and  occurrences  of  the 
 sick  room,  which  constantly  called  off"  her  attention.  She  was 
 afraid  she  did  not  love  her  Saviour,  as  she  found  it  so  difficult 
 to  fix  her  mind  upon  him.    Dr.  Payson  said, — 
 
 '•  Suppose  you  were  to  see  a  little  sick  child,  lying  in  its 
 mother's  lap,  with  its  faculties  impaired  by  its  sufferings,  so  thai 
 it  was,  generally,  in  a  troubled  sleep ;  but  now  and  then  it  just 
 opens  its  eyes  a  little,  and  gets  a  glimpse  of  its  mother's  face, 
 so  as  to  be  recalled  to  the  recollection  that  it  is  in  its  mother's 
 arms ;  and  suppose  that  always,  at  such  a  time,  it  should  smile 
 faintly  with  evident  pleasure  to  find  where  it  was, — should  you 
 doubt  whether  that  child  loved  its  mother  or  not?" 
 
 The  poor  sufferer's  doubts  and  despondency  were  gone  in  a 
 moment. 
 
 A  gentleman,  who  saw  and  conversed  with  Dr.  Payson  in 
 Boston,  when  he  visited  this  city,  towards  the  latter  part  of  his 
 life,  was  led,  by  his  preaching  and  conversation,  to  a  considera- 
 
540 
 
 THE    WOUNDEC  DOVE. 
 
 ble  degree  of  serious  concern  for  his  soul.  His  wife  was  still  in 
 a  great  measure  indifferent  to  the  subject.  One  day,  meeting 
 her  in  company,  he  said  to  her,  — 
 
 "  Madam,  I  think  your  husband  is  looking  upwards,  — making 
 some  effort  to  rise  above  the  world,  toward  God  and  heaven. 
 You  must  not  let  him  try  alone.  Whenever  I  see  the  husband 
 struggling  alone  in  such  efforts,  it  makes  me  think  of  a  dove, 
 endeavoring  to  fly  upwards,  while  it  has  one  broken  wing.  It 
 leaps  and  flutters,  and  perhaps  raises  itself  a  little  way,  and 
 then  it  becomes  wearied,  and  drops  back  again  to  the  ground. 
 If  both  wings  co-operatej  then  it  mounts  easily." 
 
CHRISTIAN  EXPERIENCE. 
 
 THE  GRATEFUL  CHRISTIAN  REHEARSING  WHAT  GOD 
 HATH  DONE  FOR  HIS  SOUL. 
 
 Come  and  hear,  all  ye  that  fear  God,  and  I  will  declare  what  he  hath  done 
 for  my  soul, — Psalm  lxvi.  16.  • 
 
 On  few  of  our  race  has  the  great  Giver  of  every  good  gift, 
 bestowed  more  temporal  blessings  than  on  David.  He  gave 
 him,  while  yet  a  stripling,  courage  to  attack,  and  strength  to 
 subdue,  the  lion  and  the  bear  ;  he  rendered  him  victorious  over 
 the  giant  of  Gath  ;  he  took  him  from  the  sheep-fold  to  be  king 
 over  Israel,  in  his  own  time  placed  him  on  the  throne,  and 
 crowned  his  reign  with  almost  unexampled  prosperity.  A  per- 
 son destitute  of  religion,  on  hearing  this  highly  favored  monarch 
 express  a  determination  to  declare  what  God  had  done  for  him, 
 would  naturally,  therefore,  have  expected  to  hear  him  mention 
 those  temporal  blessings  as  the  principal  favors  for  which  he 
 was  indebted  to  the  bounty  of  heaven.  But  such  an  expecta- 
 tion would  have  been  disappointed.  So  far  from  mentioning 
 these  things  as  his  greatest  blessings,  David  does  not  even  men- 
 tion them  at  all.  Not  that  he  was  insensible  to  these  favors. 
 Not  that  he  did  not  consider  them  as  great  and  deserving  his 
 thanksgivings.  But  in  comparison  with  his  spiritual  blessings, 
 in  comparison  with  what  God  had  done  for  his  soul,  he  regarded 
 them,  and  justly  regarded  them  as  nothing.  Instead,  therefore, 
 of  calling  men  to  hear  of  his  deliverance  from  the  lion,  the  bear, 
 
542 
 
 WHAT    GOD  HATH 
 
 the  Philistine,  the  tyrant;  and  his  exaltation  to  the  throne  of 
 Israel,  he  says,  Come  and  hear,  all  ye  that  fear  God,  and  I  will 
 declare  what  he  hath  done  for  my  soul. 
 
 My  hearers,  every  real  Christian,  when  he  feels  like  a  Chris- 
 tian, will  wish  to  make  the  language  of  this  passage  his  own. 
 However  great,  however  numerous  may  be  the  temporal  bles- 
 sings which  he  has  received,  he  will  consider  them  as  nothing 
 in  comparison  with  what  God  has  done  for  his  soul.  God  has 
 done  substantially  the  same  things  for  the  soul  of  every  Christian 
 which  he  did  for  the  soul  of  David ;  and  every  Christian  will 
 wish  to  declare  what  God  has  done  to  those  that  fear  Him.  To 
 illustrate  this  remark  is  my  present  design.  With  this  view,  I 
 shall  attempt  to  answer  the  three  following  questions  : 
 
 I.  What  has  God  done  for  the  soul  of  every  Christian  1 
 
 II.  Why  does  the  Christian  wish  to  declare  what  God  has 
 done  for  his  soul  ? 
 
 HI.  Why  does  he  wish  to  make  this  declaration  to  those  only 
 who  fear  God  7 
 
 I.. What  has  God  done  for  the  soul  of  every  Christian? 
 Before  I  answer  this  question,  it  may  be  proper  to  remind  you 
 that  the  Christian's  God  has  revealed  himself  as  Father,  Son, 
 and  Holy  Ghost.  Each  of  this  Divine  Three  has  done  many 
 things  for  his  soul,  and  whatever  is  done  by  either  of  them  is 
 done  by  God.  An  answer  to  the  question  before  us,  must, 
 therefore,  include  every  thing  which  has  been  done  for  the  soul, 
 either  by  the  Father,  the  Son,  or  the  Holy  Spirit.  The  answer 
 I  shall  give  in  the  name  of  a  Christian,  or  in  the  language 
 which  he  might  be  supposed  to  adopt,  while  making  such  a 
 declaration  as  that  in  our  text. 
 
 Come  then,  all  ye  that  fear  God  ;  see  a  Christian,  meditating 
 in  deep  and  silent  thought  on  the  spiritual  blessings  which  God 
 has  bestowed  on  him  ;  see  the  expression  of  self-abasement, 
 penitence,  faith,  hope,  love,  wonder,  admiration  and  gratitude, 
 which  his  countenance  assumes,  till  at  length,  unable  any  long- 
 er to  contain  or  repress  his  emotions,  he  breaks  forth  in  a  hum- 
 ble, affectionate,  thankful  declaration  of  what  God  has  done  for 
 his  soul. 
 
 Before  my  soul  began  to  exist,  he  says,  God  began  to  provide 
 for  its  salvation.  He  loved  it  with  an  everlasting  love;  he 
 chose  it  to  be  a  vessel  of  mercy,  in  which  he  might  shew  forth 
 
DONE   FOR    THE  SOUL. 
 
 543 
 
 ihe  riches  of  his  glory,  chose  it  in  Christ  Jesus  before  the  world 
 began.  All  that  he  has  done  for  me  was  done  according  to  an 
 eternal  purpose,  which  he  purposed  in  himself.  Before  I  knew 
 that  I  needed  a  Saviour,  before  I  existed,  before  the  foundations 
 of  the  world  were  laid,  he  provided  for  me  a  Saviour,  in  the 
 person  of  his  Son,  and  gave  me  to  that  Saviour  in  the  covenant 
 of  redemption,  as  a  part  of  his  promised  reward.  When  in  his 
 own  appointed  time  he  called  me  into  being,  he  who  fixes  the 
 bounds  of  every  human  habitation,  placed  me  in  a  part  of  the 
 world  where  he  knew  I  should  have  the  opportunity  to  acquire 
 a  knowledge  of  himself,  and  to  hear  the  gospel  of  salvation. 
 He  watched  over  my  soul  during  the  helpless  years  of  infancy, 
 the  inexperienced  season  of  childhood,  and  the  dangerous  peri- 
 od of  youth ;  and  did  not  suffer  death  to  bear  it  away  to  perdi- 
 tion in  an  unprepared  state. 
 
 While  I  lived  without  him  in  the  world,  scarcely  sensible  that 
 I  had  a  soul  to  lose,  his  guardian  care  shielded  me  from  a  thou^ 
 sand  dangers  which  would  have  proved  fatal ;  by  the  secret 
 influence  of  his  restraining  grace,  he  prevented  me  from  yield- 
 ing to  many  temptations,  and  held  me  back  from  many  sins, 
 into  which  my  own  wicked  heart,  aided  by  the  great  deceiver, 
 would  have  otherwise  plunged  me  ;  he  guided  and  led  me  along 
 by  an  unseen  hand,  when  I  knew  him  not,  and  by  his  provi- 
 dence ordered  all  my  concerns  in  such  a  way  as  to  bring  me  to 
 the  place  where  I  should  find  salvation.  Then,  when  I  lay  dead 
 in  trespasses  and  sins ;  when  I  was  a  child  of  wrath,  justly 
 doomed  to  everlasting  burnings ;  when  I  was  daily,  by  new 
 sins,  increasing  my  guilt  and  provoking  him  to  cast  me  off  for- 
 ever ;  when  the  enemy  of  God  and  man  kept  my  heart  as  his 
 castle,  like  a  strong  man  armed  ;  when  self-ignorance,  unbelief, 
 hardness  of  heart  and  opposition  to  the  truth  combined  to  chain 
 me  down  in  a  hopeless  state,  and  when  I  loved  my  chains  too 
 well  to  make  any  struggle  for  liberty ; — even  then  he  began  to 
 employ  means  to  effect  my  deliverance.  His  Spirit  came  to 
 awaken  me  from  my  lethargic  state  ;  truths  which  I  had  a  thou- 
 sand times  heard  in  vain,  were  made  to  affect  me,  my  con- 
 science was  awakened  to  reprove  me,  and  I  was  led  to  inquire, 
 What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  7 
 
 But  the  answer  which  inspiration  gives  to  this  inquiry,  my 
 darkened  mind  did  not  understand,  and  my  proud,  wicked  heart 
 
544 
 
 WHAT     GOD  HATH 
 
 would  not  believe.  In  various  ways  I  resisted  the  blessed  Guide 
 who  would  have  led  me  to  a  Saviour's  feet.  When  Christ 
 knocked  at  the  door  of  my  heart,  I  refused  him  admission  ;  I 
 sought  salvation  by  the  works  of  the  law,  by  my  own  merits ; 
 I  was  unwilling  to  repent,  forsake  sin  and  deny  myself ;  and 
 eagerly  sought  destruction,  when,  as  I  fondly  imagined,  I  was 
 seeking  salvation.  But  my  merciful  and  unchangeable  God 
 would  not  give  me  up,  as  I  so  richly  deserved.  He  caused  light 
 to  shine  into  my  benighted  mind.  He  led  me  to  see  the  justice 
 of  my  condemnation,  and  my  inability  to  escape  from  it.  He 
 made  the  way  of  salvation  appear  plain  to  me.  He  subdued 
 my  proud  heart  and  stubborn  will,  reconciled  me  to  himself, 
 gave  me  repentance,  drew  me  with  cords  of  love  to  a  Saviour's 
 feet,  broke  my  chains,  delivered  me  from  my  tyrants,  freely 
 forgave  my  numberless  offences,  put  his  law  of  love  in  my 
 heart,  enstamped  upon  me  his  image,  and  came  to  dwell  in  my 
 before  disconsolate,  polluted  breast.  He  adopted  me  as  his 
 child,  and  constituted  me  an  heir  of  God  and  a  joint  heir  with 
 Christ,  of  the  heavenly  inheritance.  He  filled  me  with  joy  and 
 peace  in  believing,  and  taught  me  to  abound  in  hope  through 
 the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Thus,  when  I  was  slumbering 
 on  the  verge  of  hell,  he  roused  me ;  when  I  was  dead  in  sins,  he 
 raised  me  to  life.  When  I  was  a  slave,  he  set  me  free  ;  when  I 
 was  a  child  of  disobedience,  he  made  me  a  child  of  God  ;  when 
 I  was  an  heir  of  perdition,  he  made  me  an  heir  of  glory  ;  when 
 my  heart  was  like  a  cage  of  unclean  birds,  he  transformed  it 
 into  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Ever  since  that  time  he  has 
 been  watching  over  me,  and  carrying  on  his  work  of  grace  in 
 my  heart.  He  has  taught  and  assisted  me  to  pray,  and  has 
 answered  my  prayers.  He  has  corrected  my  errors  and  mis- 
 takes ;  he  has  assisted  me  in  subduing  my  sins  and  in  resisting 
 temptation  ;  he  has  borne  with  my  numberless  infirmities ;  he 
 has  granted  me  ten  thousand  pardons;  he  has  healed  my  fre- 
 quent back  slidings  ;  he  has  strengthened  me  when  weak,  he 
 has  encouraged  me  when  desponding,  he  has  healed  my  soul 
 when  sick  and  wounded,  he  has  consoled  me  when  afllicted,  he 
 has  wrought  in  me  to  will  and  to  do  of  his  own  good  pleasure ; 
 he  has  often  refreshed  me  by  his  ordinances,  and  has  sometimes 
 caused  me  to  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory. 
 No  day,  no  hour  has  passed  in  which  he  did  not  do  something 
 for  my  soul. 
 
DONE    FOR     THE  SOUL. 
 
 545 
 
 And  as  if  all  this  were  not  enough,  he  has  engaged  to  do,  and 
 will  do  still  more.  He  will  strengthen  me,  yea  he  will  help  me, 
 yea  he  will  uphold  me  by  the  right  hand  of  his  righteousness, 
 lie  will  keep  me  by  his  power  through  faith  unto  salvation. 
 He  will  be  with  me  and  comfort  me  when  I  am  called  to  pass 
 through  the  dark  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  and  will 
 receive  my  disembodied  and  perfected  spirit  to  be  with  himself 
 till  the  resurrection.  He  will  then  bring  me  with  him  when  he 
 comes  to  judgment.  He  will  raise  my  body  immortal,  incorrupt- 
 ible and  glorious,  like  his  own ;  he  will  pronounce  me  blessed, 
 and  in  the  presence  of  the  assembled  universe,  call  me  to  inherit 
 the  kingdom  prepared  for  me  from  the  foundation  of  the  world. 
 To  the  possession  of  this  kingdom  I  shall  again  ascend  with 
 him  to  heaven,  and  receive  the  crown  and  the  throne  which  he 
 has  promised  to  them  that  overcome.  Then,  in  the  enjoyment 
 of  perfect  holiness,  glory  and  felicity,  I  shall  be  forever  with 
 the  Lord. 
 
 All  this  he  has,  in  effect,  done  for  me  already,  since  he  has 
 promised  it,  and  with  him,  promise  and  performance  are  the 
 same.  For  my  security  he  has  given  me  his  eternal  purpose 
 and  his  solemn  oath  ;  two  immutable  things  in  which  it  is  im- 
 possible for  him  to  lie.  Who,  then,  shall  lay  any  thing  to  my 
 charge?  It  is  God  that  justifieth.  Who  is  he  that  shall  con- 
 demn me?  It  is  Christ  that  died,  yea,  rather  that  is  risen 
 again,  who  also  maketh  intercession  for  me.  And  what  shall 
 separate  me  from  the  love  of  Christ?  Shall  persecution,  or 
 distress,  or  famine,  or  nakedness,  or  peril,  or  sword  ?  Nay,  in 
 all  these  things  I  am  more  than  a  conqueror  through  him  that 
 loved  me ;  and  I  am  persuaded  that  neither  death,  nor  life,  nor 
 angels,  nor  principalities,  nor  powers,  nor  the  world,  nor  height, 
 nor  depth,  nor  any  other  creature,  shall  be  able  to  separate  me 
 from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  my  Lord. 
 
 Such  is  the  answer  which  every  real  Christian  may  give  to 
 the  question,  What  has  God  done  for  my  soul  ?  I  do  not,  how- 
 ever, assert  that  all  real  Christians  will  venture  to  give  this 
 answer.  Many  of  them  may,  and  do  doubt  whether  they  are 
 real  Christians  ;  whether  they  are  not  deceived  by  a  false  con- 
 version. Hence  the  greater  part  would  perhaps  venture  no  far- 
 ther than  to  say,  I  hope  God  has  done  these  things  for  my  soul. 
 Their  doubts  do  not,  however,  if  they  are  Christians,  affect  their 
 
 VOL.  L  69 
 
646 
 
 WHAT    GOD  HATH 
 
 salvation.  It  is  certain,  whether  they  know  it  or  not,  that  God 
 has  done,  or  will  do  every  thing  for  their  souls  which  has  now 
 been  mentioned ;  for  he  knows,  if  they  do  not,  that  they  are 
 Christians,  and  he  will  treat  them  accordingly. 
 
 II.  The  second  question  which  it  was  proposed  to  answer,  is, 
 Why  does  the  Christian,  when  he  feels  like  a  Christian,  wish  to 
 declare  what  God  hath  done  for  his  soul  7  This  question  has 
 been,  in  part,  at  least,  already  answered.  While  stating  what 
 God  has  done,  we  have  indirectly  assigned  a  sufficient  reason 
 why  Christians  should  wish  to  declare  what  he  has  done ;  for 
 who  can  receive  favors  so  great,  so  overwhelming,  and  not  wish 
 to  speak  of  them?  If  we  have  seen  or  met  with  any  thing 
 wonderful,  we  naturally  wish  to  speak  of  it.  That  God  should 
 do  such  things  for  a  sinful  soul  is  beyond  measure  wonderful. 
 It  is  by  far  the  most  wonderful  of  all  his  works.  He  himself 
 represents  it  as  such.  Well  then  may  every  one  for  whom  he 
 has  done  such  wonders  of  grace  and  mercy,  wish  to  declare  it. 
 
 We  find  that  those  Avhom  our  Saviour  miraculously  cured 
 when  he  was  on  earth,  loudly  proclaimed  and  published  every 
 where  how  great  things  God  had  done  for  them.  They  could 
 not  keep  silence,  even  when  he  charged  them  to  do  it.  His 
 power,  his  goodness,  and  the  benefits  he  had  bestowed  on  them 
 appeared  so  great,  so  astonishing,  that  they  could  not  hold  tlieir 
 peace.  Much  more,  then,  may  Christians  whose  spiritual  mala- 
 dies have  been  healed,  to  whom  God  has  made  far  greater  and 
 more  astonishing  displays  of  hii5  power  and  grace,  feel  unable  to 
 conceal  what  God  has  done  for  their  souls.  They  must  speak 
 of  them  for  the  same  reason  that  saints  and  angels  in  heaven 
 sing  God's  praises,  because  they  are  so  full  that  they  cannot 
 contain  themselves.  They  must  give  vent  to  their  feelings. 
 Gratitude  constrains  them  to  speak.  It  is  a  relief  to  their  burst- 
 ing hearts,  burdened  and  overwhelmed  with  the  weight  of  ines- 
 timable favors,  to  show  what  great  things  God  has  done  for 
 them,  and  how  he  has  had  mercy  on  them. 
 
 Regard  for  God's  glory  also  prompts  the  Christian  to  speak. 
 He  feels  that  what  God  has  done  for  him  is  a  most  glorious 
 work ;  that  it  involves  a  most  glorious  display  of  the  divine 
 perfections.  He  wishes  therefore  to  proclaim  it,  that  men  may 
 know  how  Avonderfully  merciful  and  gracious  God  is.  Thus 
 the  Samaritan  leper,  when  cleansed  from  his  leprosy,  turned 
 back,  and,  with  a  loud  voice,  glorified  God. 
 
DONE    FOR    THE  SOUL. 
 
 547 
 
 The  Christian,  farther,  wishes  to  declare  what  God  has  done 
 for  his  soul,  in  order  that  others  may  assist  him  in  praising  the 
 bountiful  Benefactor.  His  own  unassisted  voice  is  not  loud 
 enough.  His  own  praises  seem  altogether  insufficient.  He 
 would  have  his  praises  and  thanksgivings  heard  through  the 
 world.  He  would  have  the  whole  human  family,  were  it  pos- 
 sible, join  with  him  in  one  universal  chorus  of  praise  to  God; 
 and  while  he  tells  what  God  has  done  for  his  soul,  his  desires 
 are  expressed  in  the  words  of  the  Psalmist,  O  come,  magnify 
 the  Lord  with  me,  and  let  us  exalt  his  name  together.  Such  are 
 some  of  the  reasons  why  every  Christian  wishes  to  declare  what 
 God  has  done  for  his  soul. 
 
 HI.  Why  does  he  wish  to  make  this  declaration  to  those  only 
 v/ho  fear  God.    He  does  so, 
 
 First,  Because  they  alone  can  understand  such  a  declaration. 
 He  might  indeed  speak  to  others  of  temporal  favors,  or  what  God 
 has  done  for  his  body;  but  should  he  begin  to  declare  what  God 
 had  done  for  his  soul,  his  language  would  be  scarcely  intelligi- 
 ble, and  they  would  regard  him  as  an  enthusiast  or  a  madman. 
 Conviction,  conversion,  the  pardon  of  sin,  adoption  into  God's 
 family,  communion  with  God,  and  a  title  to  heaven,  are  expres- 
 sions which  convey  almost  no  meaning  to  the  mind  of  an  irre- 
 ligious man.  Agreeably,  we  are  told  that  to  such  the  gospel  is 
 foolishness,  and  that  they  receive  not  the  things  of  the  spirit  of 
 God,  neither  can  they  know  them  because  they  are  spiritually 
 discerned.  Hence  the  apostle,  after  exclaiming.  Behold  what 
 manner  of  love  the  Father  hath  bestowed  on  us,  that  we  should 
 be  called  the  sons  of  God,  adds;  The  world  knoweth  us  not, 
 that  is  knows  nothing  of  the  blessings  and  privileges  which  we 
 enjoy,  because  it  knew  him  not.  Paul,  also,  speaking  in  the 
 name  of  Christians,  says,  now  we  have  received  not  the  Spirit 
 of  the  world,  but  the  spirit  of  God;  that  we  may  know  the 
 things  that  are  freely  given  us  of  God;  thus  plainly  intimat- 
 ing that  those  only  who  have  been  taught  by  the  Holy  Ghost, 
 Ivnow  or  understand  the  spiritual  blessings  which  God  bestows 
 on  his  people.  And  in  the  same  chapter  he  adds,  He  that  is 
 spiritual  discerneth  all  things,  but  he  himself  is  discerned  of  no 
 man  ;  that  is,  no  man  discerns  or  knows  what  he  has  received 
 and  what  he  enjoys. 
 
548 
 
 WHAT    GOD  HATH 
 
 The  Christian  wishes  to  make  this  declaration  to  those  only 
 who  fear  God,  in  the  second  place,  because  they  alone  will  re- 
 ally believe  him.  As  those  who  have  no  fear  of  God,  do  not  un- 
 derstand what  blessings  he  has  bestowed  on  his  people,  so  neith- 
 er do  they  believe  that  such  blessings  are  ever  bestowed.  Hence, 
 should  they  hear  a  Christian  declaring  what  God  has  done  for 
 him,  they  would  either  despise  him  as  a  proud  boaster,  or  pity 
 him  as  a  weak,  deluded  fanatic,  whose  vain  fancies  had  bewil- 
 dered him  into  a  fooFs  paradise.  Accordingly,  the  author  of  the 
 book  of  Ecclesiasticus  represents  the  wicked  as  ridiculing  the 
 righteous,  for  calling  themselves  the  children  of  the  Lord,  and 
 making  their  boast  that  God  is  their  father. 
 
 In  the  third  place,  the  Christian  wishes  to  make  this  declara- 
 tion to  those  only  who  fear  God,  because  they  only  will  listen 
 with  interest,  or  join  with  him  in  praising  his  Benefactor.  Men 
 destitute  of  godly  fear,  would  listen  to  an  idle  tale  or  empty  dream 
 with  more  interest  than  to  his  relation ;  and  even  did  they 
 understand  and  believe  it,  they  would  not  praise  God  on  his  ac- 
 count, but  would  rather  murmur  at  God  as  partial,  because  he 
 had  not  conferred  similar  blessings  on  them  also.  But  not  so 
 they  that  fear  God.  These  will  listen  with  interest,  for  they  love 
 to  hear  of  God's  wondrous  works  of  mercy  and  grace.  They 
 will  join  with  him  in  his  joyful  and  grateful  expressions  of  praise, 
 for  they  know  in  some  measure  the  dangers  from  which  he  has 
 been  rescued,  and  the  number,  worth,  and  magnitude  of  the 
 blessings  which  he  has  received.  They  know  that  God  has  in- 
 deed done  great  things  for  the  soul  of  every  one  who  is  saved; 
 they  can,  like  the  angels,  rejoiceoverevery  sinner  that  repenteth; 
 nay  more;  they  can  sympathize  in  his  joy,  for  they  have  them- 
 selves been  in  the  same  situation,  and  tasted  of  the  same  deliv- 
 erance. Hence,  while  the  Christian  exclaims.  The  Lord  hath 
 done  great  things  for  my  soul,  whereof  I  am  glad;  they  can  re- 
 spond, yes,  he  has  done  great  things  for  you,  and  for  us  also, 
 and  blessed  be  his  name. 
 
 Thus  have  been  answered  the  three  questions  suggested  by 
 the  text.  It  remains  only  to  make  some  improvement  of  the 
 subject. 
 
 To  those  of  us  who  have  publicly  professed  ourselves  the  dis- 
 ciples  of  Christ,  this  subject  is  peculiarly  interesting.  By  mak- 
 ing such  a  profession,  we  expressed  a  persuasion,  or  at  least  a 
 
pONE    FOR    THE  SOUL. 
 
 549 
 
 prevailing  hope,  that  we  were  Christians ;  and  of  course  that 
 God  either  had  done,  or  in  due  time  would  do  for  us,  every  thing 
 which  has  now  been  mentioned.  I  have  a  right,  then,  my  pro- 
 fessing hearers,  to  address  you  as  persons  who,  at  least,  hope 
 that  God  has  done  these  things  for  your  souls.  Permit  me  then 
 to  ask  you,  in  view  of  this  subject, 
 
 1.  Whether  the  returns  which  God  requires  of  you  in  the 
 gospel,  are  not  most  reasonable?  He  there  tells  you  that  you 
 are  riot  your  own,  that  you  are  bought  with  a  price,  and  requires 
 you,  therefore,  to  glorify  him  in  your  bodies  and  spirits  which 
 are  his;  —  to  feel  that  you  are  his  property,  to  act  as  his  servants, 
 to  consecrate  yourselves  and  all  that  you  possess  to  him.  Now, 
 is  not  this  requisition  most  reasonable  7  Has  he  not  a  right  to 
 expect  that  we  should  comply  with  it?  Even  if  he  had  not 
 created  us,  if  he  were  not  our  rightful  sovereign,  if  he  had  no 
 rights  but  those  of  a  benefactor,  no  claims  but  those  which  are 
 founded  on  what  he  has  done  for  our  souls,  might  he  not  still 
 justly  expect  from  us  all  that  he  requires,  all  that  we  can  render? 
 What,  O  what  can  be  too  valuable  to  give  to  him  who  gave  his 
 own  Son  to  die  for  us  ?  What,  O  what  can  be  too  difficult  to 
 do,  or  too  painful  to  suffer,  for  him  who  has  done  and  suffered 
 so  much  for  us?  What  returns  may  not  he  justly  expect  who, 
 at  an  expense  so  infinite,  redeemed  our  immortal  souls  from  eter- 
 nal death,  and  bestowed  on  them  everlasting  life?  Surely  we 
 must  forget  what  God  has  done  for  us,  if  we  can  think  his  re- 
 quisitions hard  or  unreasonable;  if  we  ever  hesitate  to  perform 
 any  duty,  or  to  make  any  sacrifice  which  he  requires.  And 
 have  any  of  you,  my  professing  friends,  been  guilty  of  this  for- 
 getfulness?  Have  you  hesitated  to  make  the  returns,  to  per- 
 form the  duties,  to  offer  the  sacrifices  which  your  Benefactor 
 requires.  Has  it  ceased  to  be  your  habitual  language,  Bless  the 
 Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  forget  not  all  his  benefits?  If  so,  you 
 may, 
 
 2,  Learn  from  this  subject  how  inexcusable  is  your  ingrati- 
 tude, how  much  reason  you  have  for  sorrow,  shame  and  self- 
 abasement.  In  order  to  this,  review  once  more  what  God  has 
 done  for  you,  and  contrast  it  with  your  returns  to  him.  Have 
 you  not,  in  multiplied  instances,  rewarded  him  evil  for  good? 
 Do  you  not  discover  in  your  past  conduct,  innumerable  proofs 
 of  unkindness,  unfaithfulness  and  ingratitude?    And  O,  how 
 
550 
 
 WHAT    GOD  HATH 
 
 black,  hov/  base  is  ingratitude  in  us!  Of  all  beings  that  exist 
 on  earth  or  in  heaven,  the  Christian  has  by  far  the  most  cause 
 to  be  grateful  even  more  than  the  blessed  angels  themselves.  Of 
 course,  ingratitude  in  a  Christian  is  more  criminal  and  hateful 
 than  it  would  be  in  any  other  being.  O  then,  what  deep,  what 
 bitter  repentance  ought  we  to  feel !  And  can  you  avoid  feeling 
 it  ?  Can  any  Christian  be  otherwise  than  broken-hearted,  wheu 
 he  contemplates  God  as  his  Father,  Benefactor,  and  Redeemer, 
 loving  him  with  an  everlasting  love,  promoting  his  happiness 
 with  imceasing  care,  and  doing  so  much,  so  very  much  for  his 
 salvation?  Can  any  Christian  recollect  without  a  pang,  that  he 
 has  neglected,  disobeyed  and  grieved  his  Father,  his  Sovereign, 
 his  Benefactor,  through  fear  of  offending  a  fellow-worm,  or  to 
 gratify  some  base  lust,  or  to  avoid  some  trifling  evil,  or  to  ob- 
 tain some  imaginary  good?  O,  it  may  well  wring  our  hearts 
 with  anguish  to  reflect  what  weak  temptations,  what  insignifi- 
 cant trifles  have  led  us  to  sin;  have  had  more  weight  with  us 
 than  the  wishes,  the  commands,  the  entreaties  of  that  Friend  for 
 whom  we  ought  to  think  it  an  honor  and  a  privilege  to  shed  our 
 blood.  Surely  then,  my  brethren,  we  cannot  but  repent.  Surely 
 the  overwhelming  goodness  of  God  must  lead  us  to  repentance, 
 and  constrain  us  to  turn  to  him  with  our  whole  hearts,  with 
 weeping  and  mourning  and  hiunble  confession.  Surely,  we 
 must  approach  the  table  of  our  still  forgiving,  though  often  of- 
 fended Lord,  with  feelings  like  those  of  the  penitent  who  wash- 
 ed the  Saviour's  feet  with  her  tears,  and  wiped  them  with  the 
 hairs  of  her  head.  And  we  shall  go  from  his  table,  crying, 
 What  shall  I  render  to  the  Lord  for  all  his  benefits?  and  resolv- 
 ing to  bring  forth  fruits  meet  for  repentance.  By  all  your  hopes 
 of  heaven,  by  all  that  God  has  done  for  your  souls,  by  the  dy- 
 ing love  of  his  Son,  who  is  here  set  forth  crucified  before  you, 
 and  of  whose  flesh  and  blood  you  are  now  to  partake,  I  beseech 
 and  conjure  you  to  do  this  ;  to  live  as  becomes  those  for  whose 
 sakes  so  much  has  been  done,  and  to  present  yourselves  afresh, 
 as  living  sacrifices,  holy  and  acceptable  to  God,  which  is  your 
 reasonable  service.  If  you  refuse  or  neglect  to  do  this,  how  can 
 you  any  longer  profess  a  hope  in  Christ,  or  come  any  more  to 
 his  table?  As  often  as  you  approach  it,  you  publicly  profess  a 
 hope  that  God  has  done,  or  will  do  for  your  souls,  every  thing 
 which  has  now  been  mentioned.    And  can  you  express  such  a 
 
DONE    FOR    MY  SOUL. 
 
 551 
 
 hope  as  this,  wuhout  hving  in  a  corresponding  manner?  Can 
 you  bear  to  say,  one  hour,  I  beheve,  or  hope  that  God  has  done 
 all  this  for  my  soul,  and  the  next  hour,  say  by  your  conduct,  I 
 feel  no  gratitude,  and  shall  make  him  no  returns?  Can  you 
 bear  that  the  world  should  have  occasion  to  say,  there  is  a  man 
 who  professes  to  believe  that  God  has  done,  we  know  not  how- 
 many  wonderful  things  for  his  soul,  and  yet  he  shows  little  more 
 thankfulness,  o-r  religious  sensibility  or  concern  for  his  Master's 
 honor,  than  we  do,  who  profess  nothing?  O,  my  brethren,  we 
 must,  we  must,  be  consistent.  We  must  cither  cease  to  express 
 a  hope  tliat  God  has  done  all  this  for  us,  or  we  must  live  as  be- 
 comes those  for  whom  so  much  has  been  done.  We  must  either 
 love  much,  or  cease  to  express  a  hope  that  much  has  been  for- 
 given us. 
 
 I  need  net  tell  you  that  nothing  is  more  irksome  than  to  hear 
 a  person  whose  life  exhibits  little  of  the  power  of  religion,  adopt 
 the  language  of  our  text,  and  relate  a  long  tale  of  his  conver- 
 sion and  religious  experience.  The  language  of  open  impiety 
 itself  is  not  so  disgusting.  How  inexpressibly  loathsome,  then, 
 must  we  appear  to  the  holy,  heart-searching  God,  if  we  call  him 
 our  God,  style  ourselves  his  children,  address  him  in  long  prayers, 
 and  come  to  his  table,  while  he  sees  little  or  no  love,  zeal  or  sin- 
 cerity in  our  hearts.  Well  may  he  compare  such  persons  to 
 lukewarm  water,  and  cast  them  from  him  with  disgust,  exclaim- 
 ing, r  would  thou  wert  either  cold  or  hot. 
 
 Yet  even  such  characters  he  will  freely  forgive,  if  they  now 
 repent.  Let  none  be  driven  away  by  a  sense  of  guilt.  Let  us 
 come  rather  and  present  him  that  sacrifice  of  a  broken  heart 
 which  he  will  never  despise,  however  unworthy  the  hand  that 
 offers  it.  Do  this,  my  brethren,  and  the  reception  of  new  par- 
 don and  new  mercies,  will  give  you  new  reason  to  cry.  Come 
 and  hear,  all  ye  that  fear  God,  and  I  will  declare  what  he  hath 
 done  for  my  soul. 
 
BLESSED  RECIPROCITY. 
 
 THE  RECIPROCAL  INTEREST  OP  CHRIST  AND  HIS  PEOPLE. 
 
 My  Beloved  is  mine,  and  I  am  his.   Song  ii.  16. 
 
 The  most  learned,  judicious  and  pious  commentators,  both 
 Jewish  and  Christian,  have  ever  considered  tliis  book,  as  a  kind 
 of  parable,  or  allegory,  which  represents  in  a  highly  figurative, 
 but  striking  mariner,  the  mutual  affection  which  subsists  between 
 Christ  and  his  church.  The  correctness  of  this  view  is  confirmed 
 by  the  fact,  that,  in  both  the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  Christ 
 is  ofton  represented  as  the  husband  of  his  church,  whilst  the 
 church  is  styled  the  bride,  the  Lamb's  wife.  The  apostle  in- 
 deed, intimates,  that  the  marriage  union  was  designed  by  God 
 to  exemplify  the  union  between  the  Saviour  and  his  people, — 
 adding,  this  is  a  great  mystery.  And  however  strange  or  im- 
 proper some  of  the  figurative  expressions  in  this  book,  which 
 refer  to  that  mystery,  may  appear  to  us,  they  are  perfectly  agree- 
 able to  the  manners  and  language  of  eastern  nations,  and  were 
 deemed  fit  and  proper  by  those  in  whose  age  and  country  they 
 were  written. 
 
 The  persons  who  are  introduced  as  speaking  in  this  allegori- 
 cal drama,  are  Christ,  his  church  and  her  companions,  who  are 
 called  the  daughters  of  Jerusalem.  The  words  of  our  text  were 
 littered  by  the  church.    I  need  not  tell  you  to  whom  they  refer. 
 
CHRIST    EMBRACED,  ETC. 
 
 553 
 
 I  need  not  tell  you  that  Christ,  and  he  alone,  is  emphatically  the 
 beloved  of  his  church.  He  it  is,  whom  having  not  seen  they 
 love ;  for  Christ  himself  informs  us,  that  he  has  not  a  real  dis- 
 ciple on  earth,  who  does  not  love  him  more  than  possessions, 
 friends  or  life  itself.  Now  every  such  disciple,  every  real  Christian 
 may  say,  Christ  is  mine  and  I  am  his.  To  illustrate  and  estab- 
 lish this  assertion,  is  my  present  design. 
 
 1.  Every  real  Christian  may  say,  Christ  is  mine.  There 
 are  five  different  ways  in  which  any  thing  may  become  ours. 
 The  first  is  by  formation,  or  production.  In  this  way  the  arti- 
 cles which  we  construct,  and  the  fruits  of  the  earth  which  our 
 labor  produces,  become  ours.  The  second  is  by  purchase,  or 
 exchange.  In  this  way  we  obtain  many  things  which  were  pre- 
 viously the  property  of  others.  The  third  is  by  inheritance.  In 
 this  manner  we  become  possessed  of  the  property  of  deceased 
 relatives.  The  fourth  is  by  conquest.  In  this  manner  many 
 things  are  acquired,  especially  by  sovereign  princes.  The  last 
 is  by  gift.  In  this  manner  whatever  is  bestowed  on  us  by  the 
 generosity  of  others,  becomes  our  property.  Among  all  these 
 ways,  there  is  only  one  in  which  Christ  can  become  ours.  He 
 cannot  become  ours  by  formation,  for  he  created  us,  and  not  we 
 him.  He  cannot  become  ours  by  right  of  inheritance ;  for  we 
 are  the  offspring  of  a  degenerate  race  and  can  inherit  nothing 
 from  them  but  sin  and  misery.  He  cannot  become  ours  by  pur- 
 chase ;  for  he  will  not  sell  himself,  and  if  he  would,  who  is  rich 
 enough  to  pay  the  price?  He  cannot  become  ours  by  conquest, 
 for  who  is  able  to  overcome  Omnipotence  ?  There  is  but  one 
 other  way  in  which  any  thing  can  become  ours,  viz.  by  gift ; 
 and  in  this  way  Christ  becomes  the  property  of  all  his  people. 
 
 In  the  first  place,  he  is  given  to  them  by  his  Father.  Herein 
 is  love,  not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us,  and  gave 
 his  Son  that  he  might  be  a  propitiation  for  our  sins.  God  so 
 loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son.  And  again, 
 he  gave  him  to  be  head  over  all  things  to  his  church. 
 
 In  the  second  place,  Christ  gives  himself  to  his  people.  He 
 loved  me,  says  the  apostle,  and  gave  himself  for  me.  Christ 
 loved  the  church  and  gave  himself  for  it.  In  thus  giving  him- 
 self for  us,  he  gave  himself  to  us;  for  he  speaks  of  giving  us 
 his  flesh  to  eat,  his  blood  to  drink,  his  soul  to  be  an  offering  for 
 our  sins,  and  his  Spirit  to  dwell  in  and  sanctify  us.    Since  then 
 
554 
 
 SELF    S  UKRENDERED, 
 
 Christ  is  thus  given  to  us  by  his  Father,  and  by  himself,  notn- 
 ing  is  necessary  to  make  him  ours  but  the  cordial  reception  of 
 this  gift.  But  every  Christian  does  cordially  receive  him,  by 
 faith,  as  the  free,  unmerited  gift  of  God,  and  thus  Christ  be- 
 comes his,  so  that  he  may  exclaim,  My  beloved  is  mine,  my  Sa- 
 viour, my  Head,  my  Life,  my  everlasting  portion. 
 
 II.  And  as  Christ  is  the  property  of  all  true  Christians,  so, 
 all  Christians  are  his. 
 
 We  have  already  mentioned  the  various  ways  in  which  the 
 property  of  any  thing  may  be  acquired.  In  all  these  ways 
 Christians  are  the  properly  of  Christ.  In  the  first  place,  they 
 are  his  by  creation;  for  by  him  and  for  him  they  were  created. 
 Their  existence  is  not  only  given,  but  preserved  by  him;  for  he 
 upholds  all  things  by  the  word  of  his  power.  He  it  is  that 
 made  us,  and  not  we  ourselves;  so  that  we  are  the  sheep  of  his 
 pasture  and  the  people  of  his  hand. 
 
 In  the  second  place,  they  are  his  by  inheritance ;  for  we  are 
 told  that  the  Father  hath  appointed  him  heir  of  all  things.  As 
 the  first-born  and  only  begotten  Son  of  God,  he  is  sole  heir  of 
 all  the  Father's  possessions.  Of  this  ample  inheritance,  the 
 church  is,  in  an  especial  manner,  a  part;  for  we  read  that  the 
 Lord's  portion  is  his  people;  Israel  is  the  lot  of  his  inheritance. 
 
 In  the  third  place,  they  are  his  by  purchase;  for  he  has  bought 
 them,  bought  them  with  his  own  blood.  If  it  be  asked,  how  ho 
 could  purchase  what  was  already  his  own;  I  reply,  though  they 
 were  his  by  right  of  creation  and  of  inheritance,  yet  they  had 
 fraudulently  sold  themselves  to  other  masters,  and  by  so  doing 
 had  forfeited  their  lives  into  the  hands  of  justice.  The  justice 
 of  God,  and  the  law  of  God,  had  a  claim  upon  them  which  must 
 be  satisfied,  before  the  Saviour  could  claim  them  as  his.  This 
 claim  Christ  satisfied.  He  gave  himself  a  sacrifice  in  their  stead, 
 and  thus  redeemed  or  ransomed  them  from  the  curse  of  the  law 
 and  from  the  fires  of  hell.  Hence  the  language  of  the  apostle, 
 ye  have  sold  yourselves  for  naught  and  ye  shall  be  ransomed 
 without  money.  They  are  so.  Ye  know,  says  the  apostle  to 
 Christians,  that  ye  were  not  redeemed  with  corruptible  things, 
 as  silver  and  gold,  but  with  the  precious  blood  of  Christ,  as  of  a 
 lamb  without  blemish  and  without  spot.  Ye  are  not  therefore 
 your  own,  ye  are  bought  with  a  price. 
 
 In  the  fourth  place.  Christians  are  the  property  of  Christ  by 
 
CHRIST  EMBRACED. 
 
 555 
 
 fight  of  conquest.  If  it  be  asked,  how  it  could  be  necessary, 
 that  Christ  should  acquire  the  possession  of  tliem  both  by  pur- 
 chase and  conquest,  1  answer,  after  he  had  paid  the  price  of 
 their  redemption,  the  tyrants  to  whom  they  had  sold  themselves 
 refused  to  give  them  up.  They  had  sold  themselves  to  sin,  and 
 thus  became  its  slaves;  for  whoso  committeth  sin  is  the  slave  of 
 sin,  and  in  consequence  of  this,  they  were  holden  as  captives  by 
 the  cord  of  their  iniquities.  By  thus  becoming  slaves  to  sin, 
 they  had  rendered  themselves  the  captives  of  satan,  so  that  they 
 were  led  captive  by  him  at  his  will,  and  he  as  a  strong  man 
 armed,  kept  possession  of  their  hearts  as  his  castle.  Being  then 
 the  captives  of  him  who  has  the  power  of  death,  they  became 
 subject  to  death,  and  liable  to  be  shut  up,  not  only  in  the  grave, 
 but  in  hell.  From  all  these  tyrants,  it  therefore  becomes  neces- 
 sary to  rescue  them  by  force.  This  Christ  has  done.  He,  as 
 the  Lord  of  hosts,  the  Lord  strong  and  mighty  in  battle,  is  strong- 
 er than  the  strong  man  armed.  By  the  power  of  his  grace  he 
 saves  his  people  from  their  sins,  breaking  the  otherwise  inde- 
 structible cords  in  which  they  were  bound.  He  has  also  defeat- 
 ed and  spoiled  the  prmcipalities  and  powers  of  darkness,  tri- 
 umphing over  them  in  his  cross.  He  has  entered  the  dominions 
 of  death,  taken  away  his  sting,  and  received  the  keys  both  of 
 the  grave  and  of  hell.  Hence  we  are  told,  that  when  he  as- 
 cended on  high,  he  led  captivity  captive,  that  is,  he  led  as  cap- 
 tives those  enemies,  who  had  captivated  and  enslaved  his  peo- 
 ple. Nor  was  this  all.  It  was  also  necessary  that  he  should 
 conquer  his  people,  for  they  had  become  enemies  to  him,  by 
 wicked  works.  The  language  of  their  hearts  and  of  their  con- 
 duct was.  We  will  not  have  this  man  to  reign  over  us.  What  was 
 the  state  of  their  hearts  we  may  learn  from  the  impressive  lan- 
 guage of  the  apostle.  The  weapons  of  our  warfare,  says  he, 
 are  mighty  through  God  to  the  pulling  down  of  strongholds, 
 casting  down  imaginations,  and  every  high  thing  that  exalteth 
 itself  against  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  bringing  every  thought 
 into  captivity  to  the  obedience  of  Christ.  From  this  passage, 
 it  appears  that  the  minds  of  men  are  full  of  strong  holds,  high 
 things,  and  lofty  imaginations,  which  oppose  and  keep  out  the 
 knowledge  of  God;  and  all  these  things  Christ  is  obliged  to  cast 
 down  and  destroy,  before  his  people  become  willing  to  obey  him. 
 Well  then  may  it  be  said  that  they  are  his  by  right  of  conquest. 
 
556 
 
 SELF  SURRENDERED, 
 
 Hence,  lastly,  they  become  his  by  |?ift.  In  the  first  place, 
 they  are  given  to  him  by  his  Father.  This  is  asserted  in  places 
 too  numerous  to  mention.  We  shall  quote  but  one.  Speaking 
 of  Christians  m  his  last  intercessory  prayer,  he  says  to  his  Fath- 
 er, Thine  they  were,  and  thou  gavest  them  to  me ;  and  all  thine 
 are  mine. 
 
 In  the  second  place,  all  true  Christians  have  voluntarily  given 
 themselves  to  Christ.  Conquered  by  his  grace,  constrained  by 
 his  love,  and  gratefully  affected  by  what  he  has  done  for  them, 
 they  have  freely  and  joyfully  given  away  themselves  to  him,  to 
 be  his  forever,  and  consecrated  all  their  powers  and  faculties  to 
 his  service.  Thus  a  union  is  formed  between  Christ  and  his 
 church,  which  is  by  the  inspired  writers  compared  to  the  mar- 
 riage union,  and  to  that  which  subsists  between  the  head  and 
 the  members  of  the  human  body.  He  becomes  bound  to  them, 
 and  they  to  him,  by  the  bonds  of  an  everlasting  covenant,  which 
 shall  never  be  broken ;  and  they  may  therefore  triumphantly 
 exclaim.  Our  beloved  is  ours  and  we  are  his,  and  nothing  shall 
 ever  dissolve  this  union  or  separate  us  from  him.  But  it  may 
 perhaps  be  asked,  since  Christ  is  but  one  and  Christians  are 
 many,  how  can  each  individual  Christian  possess  Christ,  so  as 
 to  say  with  propriety,  Christ  is  mine?  I  answer,  because  there 
 is  a  sufficiency  in  Christ  for  all.  He  is  infinite,  and  Christians 
 are  finite;  and  all  finite  beings  united  cannot  exhaust  infinity 
 Besides,  it  is  the  nature  of  every  blessing  which  God  has  given 
 us  to  be  shared  in  common,  that  each  one  may  possess  it,  Avith- 
 out  excluding  others.  Take  for  instance  the  sun.  God  design- 
 ed this  luminary  to  be  a  common  blessing.  There  is  therefore 
 light  and  heat  in  it  sufficient  for  all.  Each  one  of  you,  my 
 friends,  derives  the  same  advantages  from  the  sun,  as  if  there 
 were  no  person  to  share  them  with  you.  What  if  thousands  and 
 millions  in  other  parts  of  the  world,  and  in  other  planets  around 
 it,  are  at  this  moment  possessing  and  rejoicing  in  the  sun's  light 
 and  warmth?  Does  that  at  all  deprive  you  of  these  blessings? 
 Is  not  the  sun  still  as  much  yours  as  your  happiness  requires  ? 
 Could  it  be  more  perfectly  yours,  if  you  were  the  only  being  on 
 whom  it  shines  ?  Now  Christ  is  the  Sun  of  righteousness,  and 
 every  one  who  will  look  to  him  as  such,  may  possess  him  as 
 perfectly  as  if  there  were  not  another  Christian  in  the  world,  to 
 share  in  his  beams.    Hence,  as  every  person  who  has  eyes,  may 
 
CHRIST  EMBRACED. 
 
 557 
 
 say,  the  snn  is  mine,  God  has  given  it  to  me,  to  warm,  enligh- 
 ten, and  guide  me;  so  every  Christian  may  say,  Christ  is  mine; 
 God  has  given  him  to  me,  to  bless,  to  guide  and  save  me  with 
 an  everlasting  salvation. 
 
 The  subject  we  have  been  considering,  my  friends,  is  to  the 
 Christian,  full,  not  only  of  consolation,  but  of  instruction.  To 
 some  of  the  most  important  truths  which  it  teaches,  I  propose 
 to  call  your  attention. 
 
 1.  From  this  subject  you  may  learn  something  of  the  Avorth 
 and  interest  of  the  Christian's  portion.  A  pious  man  once  visi- 
 ted a  friend,  who  had  recently  come  into  possession  of  a  very 
 large  landed  property.  His  friend,  after  some  conversation,  led 
 him  to  the  top  of  his  house  which  commanded  an  extensive  pros- 
 pect, and  directing  his  attention  successively  to  a  great  number 
 of  valuable  objects,  added,  after  the  mention  of  each  particular, 
 "that  is  mine."  After  he  had  finished  the  long  catalogue  of  his 
 possessions,  his  guest  asked.  Do  you  see  yonder  cottage  on  the 
 waste?  There  lives  a  poor  widow  who  can  say  more  than  you 
 can;  she  can  say,  Christ  is  mine.  My  friends,  did  the  rich  man 
 or  the  poor  widow,  possess  the  more  valuable  property?  But 
 the  very  question  is  dishonorable  to  Christ.  Could  the  rich  man 
 have  pointed  to  the  sun  and  moon,  the  planets,  and  the  fixed 
 stars,  and  said  with  truth,  all  these  are  mine;  still  his  posses- 
 sions, weighed  against  the  poor  widow's  treasure,  would  have 
 been  lighter  than  vanity.  The  Creator  must  be  worth  infinitely 
 more  than  the  whole  creation.  He  can  do  that  for  those  who 
 possess  him,  which  the  whole  creation  cannot  do.  He  can  wash 
 away  their  sins,  he  can  sanctify  their  natures,  he  can  support 
 them  under  afflictions,  he  can  prepare  them  for  death,  he  can  fill 
 their  souls  with  happiness,  and  he  can  make  that  happiness 
 eternal;  neither  of  which  the  whole  creation  could  do  for  its  pos- 
 sessor. O  how  rich  then,  how  incalculably  rich  is  the  poorest 
 Christian!  He  is  the  only  being  who  is  not  now  able  and  who 
 never  will  be  able  to  calculate  the  worth  of  his  possessions.  In 
 possessing  Christ,  he  possesses  all  things,  for  he  possesses  him 
 who  created  and  who  disposes  of  all  things.  He  is  a  joint  heir 
 with  him  who  is  heir  of  all  things.  Well  then  might  the  apos- 
 tle say  to  Christians,  all  things  are  yours.  Well  may  Christ 
 say  to  his  poorest  disciple,  I  know  thy  poverty,  but  thou  art 
 rich.    And  well  may  every  Christian,  contemplating  his  portion, 
 
558 
 
 SELF  SURRENDERED. 
 
 cry,  Thanks,  thanks  be  unto  God  for  his  unspeakable  gift! 
 
 2.  We  may  learn  from  our  subject  to  whom  this  incompara- 
 ble gift  belongs;  who  it  is  that  without  presumption,  may  say, 
 Christ  is  mine.  Every  man,  my  friends,  may  say  this,  who  can 
 with  truth  repeat  the  other  part  of  our  text;  who  can  truly  say, 
 Christ  is  my  beloved  and  I  am  his  property.  The  relation  be- 
 tween Christ  and  his  people,  like  that  between  a  father  and  a 
 son,  is  mutual.  As  no  man  can  say  respecting  another,  he  is 
 my  father,  unless  he  can  truly  add,  I  am  his  son;  so  no  one  can 
 say  of  Christ,  he  is  mine;  unless  he  can  truly  add,  I  am  his; 
 and  no  one  can  in  this  sense  say,  I  am  Christ's,  unless  he  has 
 freely  given  himself  to  Christ,  to  be  his  forever.  Nor  can  any 
 one  thus  give  himself  to  Christ,  who  does  not  love  him  with  su- 
 preme affection,  who  cannot  say,  he  is  emphatically  my  beloved. 
 Can  you  then  my  friends  say  this?  Is  Christ  emphatically  he 
 whom  your  souls  love?  Have  you  freely  and  joyfully  given 
 yourselves  to  him,  in  an  everlasting  covenant,  to  be  his  and  his 
 only  1  If  so,  he  has  no  less  freely  given  himself  to  you.  He 
 has  loved  you  and  given  himself  for  you,  for  his  language  is,  I 
 love  them  that  love  me.  Whenever  then  you  can  be  sure  that 
 you  love  Christ,  you  may  feel  assured  that  he  loves  you.  When 
 you  can  with  truth  say,  I  am  Christ's,  you  may  always  with 
 truth  add,  Christ  is  mine. 
 
 But  those  who  cannot  with  truth  utter  the  whole  of  this  pas- 
 sage, cannot  with  truth  utter  any  part  of  it ;  and  if  they  attempt 
 so  to  do,  they  will  put  asunder  what  God  has  joined,  and  final- 
 ly perish  in  their  own  unbelief 
 
 3.  From  this  subject,  my  Christian  friends,  you  may  learn 
 the  extent  of  your  duty.  I  am  Christ's,  are  words  easily  said, 
 but  the  engagements  which  they  imply  are  not  so  easily  fulfill- 
 ed. If  we  are  his,  we  are  no  longer  our  own.  If  we  are  his, 
 then  every  thing  that  we  possess  is  his — our  time,  our  posses- 
 sions, our  strength,  our  influence,  our  powers  of  body  and  fac- 
 ulties of  mind,  all  are  his,  and  must  be  con,secrated  to  his  ser- 
 vice and  glory;  and  if  we  love  him  supremely,  they  will  be  so, 
 for  the  whole  man  ever  follows  the  heart.  The  object  which 
 possesses  our  hearts,  will  possess  ourselves.  And  if  we  are 
 Christ's,  we  shall  make  his  cause  our  own,  his  interest  our  own, 
 his  honor  our  own,  and  shall  rejoice  when  we  are  counted  wor- 
 thy to  suffer  pain  and  shame  for  his  name.    This  the  apostle 
 
CHRIST  EMBRACED. 
 
 559 
 
 speaks  of,  as  a  truth  with  which  he  presumed  all  Christians 
 were  acquainted.  What,  know  ye  not  that  ye  are  not  your  own, 
 for  ye  are  bought  with  a  price?  Glorify  God  therefore,  in  your 
 bodies  and  your  spirits  which  are  God's.  For  none  of  us  Uveth 
 to  himself,  and  no  man  dieth  to  himself;  for  whether  we  live, 
 we  live  unto  the  Lord,  or  whether  we  die,  we  die  unto  the  Lord; 
 whether  we  live,  therefore,  or  die,  we  are  the  Lord's.  If  this 
 view  of  the  obligations  which  are  implied  in  saying,  I  am 
 Christ's,  appears  discouraging,  consider  for  your  own  encourage- 
 ment, 
 
 4.  How  great  are  the  privileges  which  result  from  an  ability 
 to  say,  Christ  is  mine.  If  Christ  is  yours,  then  all  that  he  pos- 
 sesses is  yours.  His  power  is  yours  to  defend  you,  his  wisdom 
 and  knowledge  are  yours  to  guide  you,  his  righteousness  is  yours 
 to  justify  you,  his  Spirit  and  grace  are  yours  to  sanctify  you,  his 
 heaven  is  yours  to  receive  you.  He  is  as  much  yours  as  you  are 
 his,  and  as  he  requires  all  that  you  have  to  be  given  to  him,  so 
 he  gives  all  that  he  has  to  you.  Come  to  him,  then,  with  holy 
 boldness  and  take  what  is  your  own.  Remember  you  have  al- 
 ready received  what  is  most  precious,  and  what  it  was  most  dif- 
 ficult for  him  to  give,  his  body,  his  blood,  his  life.  And  surely 
 he  who  has  given  them,  will  not  refuse  you  smaller  blessings. 
 If  when  you  were  enemies  to  God,  you  were  reconciled  to  him 
 by  the  death  of  his  Son,  much  more,  being  reconciled,  you  shall 
 be  saved  by  his  life.  You  will  never  live  happily  or  usefully, 
 you  will  never  highly  enjoy  or  greatly  adorn  religion,  until  you 
 can  feel  that  Christ,  and  all  that  he  possesses,  are  yours ;  and 
 learn  to  come  and  take  them  as  your  own.  Then  you  will  have 
 all  and  abound,  and  find  that  in  possessing  Christ  you  do  in- 
 deed possess  many  things. 
 
 5.  From  this  subject,  my  professing  friends,  you  may  learn 
 what  is  the  nature  of  the  ordinance  which  you  are  about  to  cel- 
 ebrate, and  what  you  are  about  to  do  at  the  Lord's  table.  In 
 this  ordinance  we  give  ourselves  to  Christ,  and  he  gives  himself 
 to  us.  He  gives  us  himself  in  the  symbols  of  his  body  and 
 blood,  and  we  renew  the  dedication  of  ourselves  to  him.  He 
 gives  himself  to  us  as  a  sacrifice  slain  for  our  sins,  and  we  pre- 
 sent ourselves  as  living  sacrifices,  holy  and  acceptable  to  him. 
 This  is  the  language  of  our  conduct  at  the  Lord's  table.  Is  it 
 also  the  language  of  your  hearts  ]    Are  they  saying,  Christ.. 
 
560 
 
 SELF  SURRENDERED. 
 
 my  friend,  my  beloved  is  mine,  and  I  am  his  —  willingly,  joy- 
 fully his?  If  so,  come  and  receive  Christ,  for  he  is  yours. 
 Come  and  give  yourself  to  Christ,  for  you  are  his. 
 
 One  word  to  those  who  are  about  to  depart,  and  I  have  done. 
 You  have  heard,  my  friends,  that  those  who  will  give  themselves 
 to  Christ,  shall  receive  him  in  return.    This  exchange  I  now 
 propose  to  you.    I  offer  you  Christ's  heart  in  exchange  for  yours. 
 ****** 
 
SEARCHING  RETROSPECTION. 
 
 FORMER  INSTRUCTIONS  RECOLLECTED  AND  APPLIED. 
 
 Now  of  the  things  which  we  have  spoken  luito  you,  this  is  tlie  sum. 
 
 Heb.  VIII.  1. 
 
 These  words  compose  the  preface  to  a  brief  recapitulation  of 
 the  doctrines  which  the  writer  had  stated  more  fully  in  the  pre- 
 ceding part  of  this  epistle.  I  propose,  on  the  present  occasion, 
 to  make  a  similar  use  of  them.  If  the  apostle  thought  it  proper 
 to  repeat  what  he  had  written,  and  which  might,  therefore,  if 
 forgotten,  be  easily  read  afresh,  it  surely  cannot  be  improper  for 
 the  speaker  to  remind  you  of  what  has  been  merely  spoken  in 
 your  hearing,  and  which,  if  forgotten,  you  have  no  opportunity 
 to  review.  And  as  it  cannot  be  improper,  so  I  trust  it  may  not 
 be  altogether  unprofitable,  to  give  you  a  brief  and  general  sum- 
 mary of  the  truths  which  have  been  exhibited  in  this  place  for 
 a  few  months  past.  The  beneficial  effects  which  such  a  measure 
 has  a  tendency  to  produce,  and  which  it  possibly  may  produce, 
 are  great  and  numerous.  It  may  convince  you,  that  a  much 
 larger  portion  of  God's  revealed  truth  has  been  presented  to 
 your  view,  in  a  comparatively  short  space  of  time,  than  you  are 
 perhaps  aware  of  It  may  lead  you  to  inquire,  what  effect  all 
 this  truth  has  produced.  If  when  heard,  it  made  any  impres- 
 sions upon  your  minds,  a  review  of  it  may  revive  those  im- 
 
 VOL.  I.  71 
 
562 
 
 TRUTH  KECALLED 
 
 pressions.  If  it  made  no  impression,  you  may  be  led  to  inquire 
 the  cause.  For  these,  and  other  reasons  which  will  presently 
 appear,  I  propose  to  recall  your  attention  to  the  subjects  of  my 
 late  discourses.  In  doing  this,  I  shall  go  back  only  to  the  last 
 Sabbath  of  the  last  year,  and  endeavor  to  give  you  a  general 
 view  of  the  truths,  which,  since  that  time,  have  been  exhibited 
 to  this  church  and  society. 
 
 On  the  last  Sabbath  of  the  last  year,  you  were  addressed  from 
 these  words  of  our  Lord,  selected  from  a  familiar  parable:  And 
 the  door  was  shut.  It  was  shown  that  the  door  here  mentioned 
 was  the  door  of  admission  to  a  place  in  which  Christ  was,  and 
 the  following  proposition  was  stated  as  the  doctrine  of  the  text: 
 The  time  is  approaching,  when  the  door  of  admission  to  every 
 place  where  Christ  is,  will  be  shut  against  all  whom  that  time 
 finds  unprepared.  This,  it  was  remarked,  implies  that  the  door 
 is  now  open,  open  to  the  prayers  and  the  praises  of  all  who  will 
 enter  in.  The  door  of  admission  to  the  means  of  grace  and 
 ordinances  of  religion  in  which  Christ  manifests  himself,  is 
 open  :  the  door  of  admission  to  his  church  is  open ;  the  door  of 
 admission  to  heaven  is  open.  But  the  time  is  approaching, 
 when  all  these  doors  will  be  shut  forever  against  the  persons, 
 and  asainst  the  prayers  of  all  whom  death  finds  unprepared. 
 You  were  reminded  that  before  the  close  of  the  present  year, 
 the  door  would  thus  be  shut  against  some  of  3'^ou,  and  you  were 
 invited,  entreated,  urged  by  every  motive,  to  guard  against  final 
 exclusion  from  Christ  and  from  heaven,  by  entering  in  without 
 delay.  The  church  v/ere  also  reminded  that  the  door  of  use- 
 fulness would  soon  be  shut  against  them,  that  the  only  opportu- 
 nity of  praying  for  their  children  and  friends,  and  laboring  for 
 their  salvation,  would  soon  be  gone  forever.  I  know  of  no 
 eflect  produced  by  this  sermon.  It  may  possibly  have  produced 
 some  temporary  effect  on  the  church.  On  the  congregation  1 
 have  no  reason  to  suppose  it  produced  any. 
 
 Soon  after  this,  your  attention  was  called  to  these  words  of 
 Jehovah :  /  am  God,  and  there  is  none  else;  I  urn,  God,  and 
 there  is  none  like  me.  In  a  discourse  on  these  words,  an  attempt 
 was  made  to  present  God  to  your  view,  as  he  is  exhibited  in  the 
 Scriptures.    Proofs  and  illustrations  were  exhibited  of  the  fact, 
 
AND  APPLIED. 
 
 663 
 
 that  he  is  an  eternal,  self- existent,  independent  Spirit,  infinite  in 
 power,  in  knowledge,  in  wisdom,  in  goodness,  justice,  faithful- 
 ness, mercy  and  truth,  the  Creator,  Preserver,  and  rightful 
 Sovereign  of  all  creatures  and  all  worlds.  His  claims  to  oar 
 supreme  love,  confidence  and  obedience,  founded  on  these  per- 
 fections and  relations,  were  pressed  upon  you,  and  you  were 
 urged  by  all  that  is  great,  and  by  all  that  is  good  in  his  charac- 
 ter, to  submit  to  him  and  choose  him  as  your  God.  At  the  same 
 time,  the  infinite  evil,  malignity  and  danger  of  sin,  as  committed 
 against  such  a  Being,  were  presented  to  your  view,  and  you 
 were  entreated  to  hate  it,  forsake  it,  repent  of  it. 
 
 The  next  discourse  of  which  I  would  re'mind  you,  was  on 
 these  words :  Am  I  in  God^s  stead?  The  sentiment  deduced 
 from  this  passage  was,  that  no  creature  can  supply  to  us  the 
 place  of  God,  or  do  that  for  us  which  God  can  do,  and  which 
 is  necessary  to  our  happiness.  This  sentiment  was  explained, 
 and  its  truth  made  evident,  by  an  appeal  to  facts.  It  was  shown 
 that  no  created  object  can  make  us  happy,  even  in  this  world, 
 that  no  creature  can  guard  us  against  afiiiction,  from  sickness, 
 or  death,  or  pardon  our  sins,  or  sanctify  our  natures,  and  that 
 all  creatures  united,  can  do  nothing  for  us  beyond  the  grave. 
 Hence  was  inferred  the  folly,  as  well  as  sinfulness,  of  putting 
 any  created  object  in  the  place  of  God,  and  of  neglecting  him, 
 in  order  to  secure  the  applause,  or  escape  the  censures  of  mankind. 
 
 The  first  and  great  command  is,  thou  shall  love  the  Lord  thy 
 God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  toith  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy 
 strength,  was  the  subject  of  the  next  discourse  which  I  shall 
 mention.  In  meditating  on  this  command,  we  considered  its 
 import,  its  reasonableness,  and  the  justice  of  its  claims  (o  be 
 called  the  first  and  great  command.  In  explaining  its  import, 
 we  showed  that  it  requires  us  to  love  God  with  the  highest  de- 
 gree of  aflfection,  of  which  our  natures  are  capable,  to  love  him, 
 of  course,  more  than  we  love  ourselves.  The  reasonableness 
 of  the  command  was  argued,  from  the  infinite  perfection  and 
 loveliness  of  the  Divine  character,  from  the  intimate  relation 
 which  subsists  between  him  and  us  considered  as  his  creatures, 
 from  the  numerous  and  inestimable  favors  which  he  has  bestowed 
 upon  us,  and  from  the  impossibility  of  finding  any  other  object 
 
564 
 
 TRUTH  RECALLED 
 
 worthy  to  rival  him  in  our  affections.  In  proof  that  this  is  justly 
 called  the  first  and  greatest  of  God's  commands,  it  was  stated 
 that  it  does  in  effect  include  all  the  other  commands  of  God, 
 and  that  unless  we  obey  it,  we  cannot  obey  a  single  precept  of 
 the  divine  law.  In  the  improvement,  it  was  shown,  that  we 
 have  all  disobeyed  this  precept,  that  we  are  under  the  strongest 
 obligations  to  repent  of  this  disobedience,  that  if  we  repent  of 
 it,  we  shall  be  pardoned,  that  if  we  do  not,  our  condemnation  is 
 certain  and  perfectly  just. 
 
 All  the  people  wept,  when  they  heard  the  words  of  the  law,  was 
 the  text  of  another  discourse,  which,  about  the  same  time,  so- 
 licited your  attention.  The  object  of  that  discourse  was,  to 
 show  what  reason  sinful  creatures  like  ourselves  have,  to  feel 
 those  emotions  of  which  weeping  is  the  expression,  when  the 
 law  of  God  is  exhibited  to  their  view ;  or,  in  other  words,  why 
 they  ought  to  repent  of  having  transgressed  it.  The  reasons 
 mentioned,  Avere  the  unrivalled  excellence  of  the  law,  the  char- 
 acter and  works  of  its  author,  and  the  dreadful  effects  which 
 transgressing  it  have  produced  upon  our  bodies,  our  souls,  and 
 our  fellow  creatures.  It  was  further  added,  that  the  gospel  of 
 Christ  is  full  of  reasons  why  we  should  mourn  and  weep  in 
 view  of  our  disobedience  to  the  law,  and  that  no  one,  who 
 possesses  a  particle  of  love  to  his  Saviour,  can  refrain  from 
 lamenting  the  degradation,  the  agonies  to  which  our  sins  sub- 
 jected him,  but  to  which  he  cheerfully  submitted  for  our  sakes. 
 In  the  improvement  it  was  remarked,  that  we  must  either  obey 
 the  numerous  commands  which  call  upon  us  to  repent,  or  assert 
 that  they  must  be  blotted  from  the  Bible  ;  that  we  must  either 
 condemn  all  who  have  repented  of  their  sins,  or  imitate  their 
 example. 
 
 Permit  me  next  to  remind  you  of  a  discourse,  in  which  the 
 speaker  exerted  himself  to  the  utmost  extent  of  his  power,  to 
 rouse  you  from  the  state  of  fatal  security  in  which  you  seemed 
 to  be  slumbering.  The  theme  of  this  discourse,  was  the  follow- 
 ing tremendous  threatening :  It  is  a  people  of  no  understanding; 
 therefore  he  that  made  them  will  not  have  mercy  on  them,  and 
 he  that  formed  them  loill  show  them  no  favor.  In  discoursing 
 on  this  subject,  I  endeavored  to  show,  that  by  understanding  is 
 
AND  APPLIED. 
 
 565 
 
 here  meant  spiritual  understanding,  or  that  heavenly  wisdoru 
 which  consists  in  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  of  which  the  fear 
 of  God  is  said  to  be  the  beginning.  It  was  farther  remarked, 
 that  the  persons  to  whom  this  threatening  was  originally  ad- 
 dressed, had  long  enjoyed  the  means  of  grace, — means,  which, 
 if  rightly  improved,  would  have  made  them  wise  unto  salvation, 
 but  which  they  had  neglected  and  abused.  I  endeavored  to 
 prove,  by  plain,  undeniable  facts,  that  you  have  been  favored 
 with  even  greater  means  and  privileges,  but  that  many  of  you 
 have  neglected  to  improve  them,  and  are  in  consequence  without 
 understanding,  in  the  sense  of  the  text,  and  exposed  to  the 
 Ihreatenings  which  it  denounces.  The  awful  import  of  the 
 threatening  was  then  exhibited.  We  showed  it  to  be  this:  God 
 ■will  deal  with  them  in  strict  justice,  according  to  the  rules  oi 
 his  revealed  law.  In  other  words,  he  will  treat  them  as  they 
 deserve;  that  is,  first,  he  will  either  deny  them  the  common 
 blessings  of  his  providence,  or  grant  them  those  blessings  in 
 anger,  and  send  a  curse  with  them;  secondly,  he  will  either 
 deprive  them  of  their  religious  privileges  and  opportunities,  or 
 withhold  his  blessing  and  thus  render  them  useless;  tiiirdly,  he 
 will  deny  them  the  influences  of  his  good  Spirit,  and  give  them 
 up  to  blindness  of  mind  and  hardness  of  heart,  and  thus  render 
 their  destruction  certain.  These  awful  truths  we  pressed  upon 
 you  with  the  utmost  earnestness,  and  concluded  by  reminding 
 you,  that  should  they  produce  no  salutary  effect,  it  would  furnish 
 additional  reason  to  fear  that  God  had  determined  not  to  have 
 mercy  on  you,  and  to  show  you  no  favor. 
 
 What  if  some  did  not  believe?  Shall  their  unbelief  make  the 
 faith  of  God  icithout  effect?  God  forbid!  In  a  discourse  on 
 these  words  it  was  shown,  that  man's  disbelief  of  God's  threal- 
 enings  will  by  no  means  prevent  the  execution  of  these  threat- 
 enings.  It  will  not,  because  God  foresaw  that  unbelief  when 
 he  uttered  them.  It  will  not,  because  that  unbelief,  by  calling 
 his  veracity  in  question,  renders  it  necessary  for  him  to  establish 
 it  by  fulfilling  all  his  threatenings.  It  will  not,  because  it  never 
 has  done  so.  Our  first  parents  did  not  believe  God's  threatenings: 
 the  inhabitants  of  the  old  world,  of  Sodom,  did  not  believe 
 them;  the  Jews  did  not  believe  them;  yet  in  all  these  cases 
 they  were  executed.    And  so  they  ever  will  be. 
 
666 
 
 TRUTH  RECALLED 
 
 For  what  man  knoweth  the  things  of  a  man,  save  the  spirit 
 of  man  which  is  in  him  ?  Even  so  the  things  of  God  knoweth  no 
 man,  hxit  the  Spirit  of  God.  In  a  discourse  on  this  passage,  I 
 remarked,  that  by  the  things  of  a  man  are  evidently  meant  his 
 secret  thoughts  and  feelings.  These  we  cannot  know  till  they 
 are  expressed  either  by  looks,  actions  or  words.  In  other  words, 
 we  cannot  read  the  hearts  of  our  fellow  creatures.  Much  less 
 can  we  read  the  heart  of  God,  or  know  any  thing  of  his  thoughts, 
 feelings  and  designs,  unless  they  are  revealed  to  us  by  his  Spirit, 
 by  whom  alone  they  are  known.  Hence  we  inferred,  that  a 
 revelation  of  the  mind  and  will  of  God  is  unspeakably  desira- 
 ble, and  even  necessary  for  our  happiness;  that  the  revelation 
 which  he  has  given  us  in  the  Bible,  is  to  be  highly  prized ;  that 
 his  goodness  in  granting  it  to  us,  claims  our  most  thankful  ac- 
 knowledgements; that  the  aid  of  his  Spirit,  by  whom  it  wa.s 
 dictated,  is  necessary  to  a  right  understanding  of  it;  and  that  it 
 is  the  height  of  folly  to  trust  to  our  own  reasonings  and  conjec- 
 tures respecting  what  God  ought  to  do,  when  he  hasactually  in- 
 formed us  what  he  will  do. 
 
 God  is  angry  with  the  wicked  every  day.  If  he  turn  not,  he 
 will  whet  h  is  sword,  he  hath  bent  his  hmc  and  made  it  ready.  He 
 hath  also  prepared  for  them  the  instrximents  of  death.  In  dis- 
 coursing on  this  passage,  I  remarked,  that  all  are  wicked,  who 
 are  not  righteous;  that  God  is  highly  and  constantly  displeased 
 with  the  wicked,  and  feels  towards  them  the  strong  antipathy 
 of  good  to  bad;  that  this  displeasure  being  caused  by  the  unut- 
 terable holiness  of  his  nature  must  continue  forever;  that  he 
 will  express  it,  not  by  the  rod,  but  by  the  sword,  not  by  instru- 
 ments of  correction,  but  by  instruments  of  death,  and  that  it  is 
 impossible  for  them  to  escape  its  etFects  in  any  other  way,  than 
 by  turning  from  their  sins,  and  turning  to  him. 
 
 The  imagination  of  manls  heart  is  evil  from  his  youth.  In  a 
 discourse  on  these  words,  I  attempted  to  explain  and  establish 
 the  doctrine  of  human  depravity,  or  the  depravity  of  man's 
 heart.  It  was  remarked,  that  when  we  assert  any  thing  to  be 
 depraved,  or  corrupted,  we  mean  that  it  is  not  what  it  originally 
 \ras,  or  that  it  is  altered  for  the  worse.  We  mean  the  same, 
 when  we  assert  that  the  human  heart  is  depraved.    We  mean 
 
AND  APPLIED. 
 
 567 
 
 that  it  is  not  what  it  was  originally,  but  is  altered  for  the  worse. 
 If  we  would  ascertain  how  much  it  is  altered  for  the  worse,  or 
 what  is  the  extent  of  its  depravity,  we  must  compare  it  with  a 
 perfectly  good  or  holy  heart.  So  far  as  it  differs  from  such  a 
 heart,  so  far  it  is  depraved.    I  then  remarked, 
 
 1.  That  a  perfectly  good  heart  can  have  no  feelings  or  de- 
 sires which  it  would  be  wrong  to  express.  But  our  hearts  have 
 such  feelings  and  desires,  thercfore  they  are  depraved. 
 
 2.  A  perfectly  good  heart  will  ever  prompt  its  possessor  to  do 
 all  the  good  in  his  power.  If  then,  our  hearts  do  not  prompt  us 
 to  do  good^  they  are  depraved. 
 
 3.  A  perfectly  good  heart  will  always  be  in  perfect  subjection 
 to  reason  and  conscience.  If  our  hearts  do  not  submit  to  these 
 guides,  they  are  depraved. 
 
 4.  A  perfectly  good  heart  is  always  perfectly  obedient  to  the 
 law  of  God.  In  other  words,  it  leads  its  possessor  to  love  God 
 with  all  the  heart,  and  his  neighbor  as  himself.  If  our  hearts 
 are  not  thus  obedient,  if  they  do  not  thus  love  God  and  our 
 neighbor,  they  are  depraved. 
 
 Unto  them  that  are  defiled  and  unbelieving  is  nothing  pure; 
 but  even  their  mind  and  conscience  is  defiled.  In  discoursing  on 
 this  passage,  I  endeavored  1o  show  that  the  depravity  of  the 
 heart,  already  mentioned,  extended  its  corrupting  influence  to 
 the  intellectual  faculties  of  man,  rendering  their  minds  blind  to 
 all  spiritual  objects,  and  their  consciences  insensible  to  the  evil 
 of  many  sins,  which,  in  the  estimation  of  God,  are  of  the  first 
 magnitude.  Hence  it  was  inferred,  that  our  understandings 
 and  consciences  are  not  safe  guides,  without  the  word  and  the 
 Spirit  of  God,  and  that  we  must,  in  obedience  to  the  divine  com- 
 mand, trust  in  the  Lord  with  all  our  heart. 
 
 If  thy  hand  or  thy  foot  offend  thee^  cut  them  off,  and  cast 
 them  from  thee;  it  is  better  for  thee  to  enter  into  life  halt  or  maim- 
 ed, rather  than  having  two  hands,  or  two  feet,  to  be  cast  into  ever- 
 lasting fire.  In  discoursing  on  this  passage,  I  observed,  that  to 
 offend,  in  the  sense  of  the  text,  is  to  tempt,  or  cause  us  to  sin, 
 and  endeavored  to  show  that  every  object,  which  thus  offends 
 us,  must  be  removed,  however  dear  or  necessary  it  may  be. 
 
668 
 
 TRUTH  RECALLED 
 
 Where  their  worm  dieth  not,  and  their  fire  is  not  quenched. 
 The  discourse  on  this  text  was  dehvered  so  recently,  that  I 
 would  hope  it  is  not  yet  entirely  forgotten;  and  that  the  bare 
 mention  of  it,  will  be  sufficient  to  recall  its  leading  sentiments 
 to  your  minds.  Without  further  noticing  it,  therefore,  I  proceed 
 to  remark,  that  the  discourses  which  I  have  mentioned,  in  whicli 
 the  terrors  of  the  Lord  were  exhibited,  were  interspersed  with 
 nearly  an  equal  number,  in  which  the  mercy  of  God,  tiie  way 
 of  salvation  by  Jesus  Christ,  and  his  gracious  invitations  were 
 pressed  upon  your  attention.  In  a  sermon  on  the  subject  of  the 
 prodigal  son,  we  showed  you  God's  readiness  to  receive  and 
 forgive  returning  sinners,  even  while  they  were  yet  a  great  way 
 off.  In  another,  on  the  text,  God  commendeth  his  love  towards 
 us,  in  that  while  we  were  yet  sinners,  Christ  died  for  us,  we 
 attempted  to  display  the  wonderful  love  which  he  exhibited  in 
 the  gift  of  his  Son.  In  a  third,  we  showed  that  in  Jesus  Christ 
 dwelleth  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily,  and  that  he  is 
 ready  to  impart  a  portion  of  this  fulness  to  all  who  come  to  him. 
 In  a  fourth,  we  described  his  coming  into  the  world  ;  in  a  fifth, 
 his  ascension  to  heaven,  and  in  a  sixth  his  coming  to  judge  the 
 world. 
 
 Another  on  the  passage,  O  Lord,  lam  oppressed,  undertake 
 for  me,  you  probably  recollect.  Faith,  repentance,  the  manner 
 in  which  we  must  pray,  if  we  would  pray  acceptably,  composed 
 the  subjects  of  the  other  discourses.  Other  texts,  which  I  can 
 only  mention,  were  these:  Have  ye  your  hearts  yet  hardened? 
 Is  it  nothing  to  you,  all  ye  that  pass  by?  Noah  walked  with 
 God.  He  that  denieth  the  Son,  the  same  hath  not  the  Father. 
 See  that  ye  refuse  not  him  that  speaketh ;  for  if  they  escaped 
 not  who  refused  him  that  spake  on  earth,  much  more  shall  not 
 we  escape,  if  we  turn  away  from  him  that  speaketh  from  heav- 
 en. These  texts  I  mention,  because  the  mention  of  them  may 
 possibly  remind  you  of  the  sermons,  with  which  they  were  con- 
 nected. 
 
 A  number  nearly  equal  to  all  I  have  noticed,  must  be  passed 
 over  entirely,  that  we  may  reserve  room  for  a  suitable  improve- 
 ment if  the  subject.  Of  one  more,  however,  I  will  remind  you, 
 which  was  preached  little  more  than  a  month  since,  on  the  fol- 
 lowing text : — If  the  good  man  of  the  house  had  known  at  what 
 
AND  APPLIED. 
 
 569 
 
 hour  the  thief  would  come,  he  would  have  watched,  and  would 
 not  have  suffered  his  house  to  he  broken  up.  After  explaining 
 the  passage  and  its  connection  with  the  context,  I  endeavored 
 to  show  how  impenitent  sinners  and  Christians  would  be  affect- 
 ed by  knowing  the  time  of  their  deaths,  and  urged  both  classes 
 to  live  for  one  month,  as  they  would  do  did  they  know  that  they 
 had  but  a  month  to  live,  I  promised,  God  assisting  me,  to  en- 
 deavor to  preach  as  if  my  labors  were  to  end  with  the  month, 
 and  entreated  you  to  hear  as  if,  after  that  time  had  expired,  you 
 were  to  hear  no  more.  1  will  only  add,  that  so  far  as  I  can 
 discover,  there  has  beeri  less  religious  zeal  and  sensibility  mani- 
 fested among  us  since  than  there  was  before. 
 
 But  I  can  proceed  no  further  in  giving  you  a  summary  of  the 
 truth  which  has  been  exhibited.  Had  1  been  aware  of  the  dif- 
 ficulty of  performing  the  task,  I  should  not  have  undertaken  it. 
 I  fear  that  you  have  found  it  wearisome,  and  scarcely  can  hope 
 that  it  will .  prove  in  the  smallest  degree  profitable.  Let  us, 
 however,  endeavor  to  make  the  best  improvement  of  it  which 
 is  in  our  power. 
 
 1.  Let  me  request  you  to  reflect  seriously  how  large  a  portion 
 of  revealed  truth,  and  of  that  part  of  it  too,  Avhich  is  most 
 alarming,  most  interesting,  and  most  calculated  to  reach  the 
 conscience  and  affect  the  heart,  has  been  exhibited  to  you  since 
 the  present  year  commenced.  Nearly  all  the  most  important 
 doctrines  of  the  Bible  and  many  of  its  most  important  precepts 
 liave  been  mentioned  in  the  preceding  sketch.  Yet  I  have  men- 
 tioned little  more  than  half  of  the  discourses  which  you  have 
 heard  from  the  speaker  on  the  Sabbath.  Of  what  you  have 
 heard  from  other  ministers,  and  of  the  subjects  discussed  at  our 
 evening  lectures,  I  have  said  nothing.  My  hearers,  were  you 
 sensible  that  so  much  truth  had  been  pressed  upon  you,  that 
 almost-  the  whole  contents  of  revelation  had  been,  as  it  were, 
 poured  upon  your  heads  within  a  few  months'? 
 
 2.  Let  me  ask,  whether  all  these  truths  ought  not  to  have 
 produced  some  lasting,  salutary  effect  upon  your  temper  and 
 conduct?  Can  you  conceive  of  truth  more  important,  more 
 interesting,  more  suited  to  influence  the  understanding,  awaken 
 the  conscience,  and  affect  the  heart  1  Even  if  they  were  less 
 important  than  they  are,  ought  not  the  character  and  the  author- 
 ity of  that  God  who  has  revealed  them,  to  have  secured  our  be- 
 
 voL  I.  72 
 
570 
 
 TRUTH  RECALLED 
 
 lief,  our  submission  and  obedience  !  In  a  word,  if  these  truths 
 do  not  atfect  men,  do  not  reform  them,  do  not  induce  them  to 
 work  out  their  own  salvation,  can  you  conceive  of  any  truths 
 which  will  do  it  ?    Permit  me  to  inquire, 
 
 •3.  What  effect  all  this  truth  has  produced  upon  you  }  Has  it 
 produced  any  salutary  etfects  ?  Has  it  imparted  to  you  any 
 knowledge  of  God.  of  yourselves,  of  your  duty?  Has  it  made 
 you  Avise  to  salvation  ?  Are  any  of  you  truly  religious  charac- 
 ters riow,  who  were  not  so  at  the  commencement  of  the  year  If 
 Are  any  attending  seriously  to  religion  now,  who  then  treated  it 
 with  neglect  ?  Have  those  of  you  who  then  professed  a  relig- 
 ious character,  made  any  progress  in  religion  ?  Or  has  all  this 
 truth  flowed  over  this  assembly,  like  water  over  a  rock  and 
 produced  no  effect?  If  it  does  not  produce  good  effects,  it  pro- 
 duces those  which  are  bad.  If  it  does  not  soften,  it  hardens  the 
 heart.  If  it  does  not  prove  a  savor  of  life  unto  life,  it  proves  a 
 savor  of  death  unto  death,  for  God  has  solemnly  declared  that 
 it  shall  not  return  unto  him  void,  it  shall  produce  etfects  of  one 
 kind  or  the  other. 
 
 Indeed,  it  is  evident  from  the  very  nature  of  things,  that  it 
 must  be  so.  Wlien  the  declarations,  the  threatenings  and  the 
 promises  of  God  are  urged  upon  the  heart,  it  must  either  receive 
 or  reject  them.  And  if  it  rejects  them,  then  it  must  in  the  very 
 act  of  rejecting  them,  harden  itself,  and  increase  its  own  obsti- 
 nacy. Besides,  whenever  we  hear  the  truth  without  yielding  to 
 it,  we  increase  our  guilt.  We  are  guilty  of  a  great  sin,  guilty 
 of  disbelieving  what  God  asserts,  of  disobeying  his  commands. 
 For  all  this,  we  must  give  an  account.  Of  every  portion  of 
 divine  truth  which  is  exhibited  to  us,  and  every  opportunity 
 which  we  enjoy  of  hearing  it,  we  must  give  an  account.  If  we 
 derive  no  benefit  from  it,  the  fault  is  our  own.  Does  not  my 
 word,  says  Jehovah,  do  good  to  them  who  walk  uprightly  ?  a 
 question  which  is  equivalent  to  an  assertion  that  it  does.  If, 
 then,  that  portion  of  God's  word  which  you  have  heard,  has 
 done  you  no  good,  it  is  because  you  have  not  walked  uprightly. 
 
 From  these  remarks,  it  appears  that  all  on  whom  the  truth 
 has  produced  no  salutary  effects,  have  been  constantly  increas- 
 ing in  sinfulness  and  guilt,  and  have  done  much  to  provoke  God 
 to  forsake  them  forever.  Perhaps,  on  hearing  this,  some  will 
 say,  since  this  is  the  case,  it  will  be  advisable  for  us  to  hear  the 
 
AND    A  PPLl ED  . 
 
 571 
 
 truth  no  more,  and  to  absent  ourselves,  for  the  remainder  of  our 
 lives,  from  the  house  of  God.  My  hearers,  I  met,  a  few  days 
 since,  with  a  well  authenticated  account  of  one,  who,  in  a  neigh- 
 boring State,  adopted  this  very  resolution.  In  vain  did  his  pas- 
 tor and  his  pious  friends  urge  him  to  renounce  it.  He  maintain- 
 ed it  till  he  came  lo  his  dying  bed.  Then  he  saw  its  folly,  its 
 madness.  His  remorse  was  great,  his  dying  agonies  terrible; 
 he  died  without  hope.  If  you  wish  to  die  in  a  similar  manner, 
 imitate  his  conduct.  If  you  wish  to  die  in  a  manner  equally 
 terrible  and  hopeless,  continue  to  hear  the  truth  without  believ- 
 ing or  obeying  it ;  but  if  you  would  die  the  death  of  the  right- 
 eous, and  have  your  latter  end  like  his,  you  must  not  only 
 hear,  but  believe  and  obey  it. 
 
 4.  Although  it  is  never  pleasant,  and  seldom  proper,  for  a 
 minister  to  speak  of  himself,  yet  I  trust  you  will  pardon  me  for 
 reminding  you  how  exceedingly  discouraging  and  distressing  it 
 must  be  to  the  speaker,  to  see  almost  no  salutary  effects  produ- 
 ced by  his  labors,  and  to  know  that  while  they  are  producing 
 no  salutary  effects,  they  are  producing  effects  of  an  opposite 
 kind.  Put  yourselves  for  a  moment  in  his  situation.  Think 
 what  it  must  be  with  a  body  and  mind  exhausted  and  worn  out, 
 to  toil  in  preparing  a  sermon  which  he  is  almost  certain  will  do 
 uo  good.  Think  what  it  must  be  to  come.  Sabbath  after  Sab- 
 bath, for  months  together,  and  warn,  threaten,  and  entreat, 
 while  none  regard  it.  Above  all,  think  what  it  must  be,  for  a 
 minister  to  see  his  people  hardening  in  their  sins,  treasuring  up 
 wrath  and  rushing  on  to  destruction,  endless,  irretrievable  des- 
 truction, while  all  his  efforts  to  save  them,  are  frustrated  by  their 
 unbelief  If  any  of  you  are  ready  to  censure  me  for  despond- 
 ing, and  feeling  tempted  to  suspend  my  exertions,  let  me  ask 
 them,  what  I  shall  do.  What  means  shall  I  employ  1  What 
 shall  I  say  to  you 7  What  can  I  say,  which  I  have  not  said? 
 What  reason  have  I  to  hope,  that  should  I  labor  through  the 
 remainder  of  the  year,  my  exertions  will  not  still  prove  inef- 
 fectual 7  Will  you  say,  perhaps,  God  may  bless  them  and  ren- 
 der them  effectual?  Alas,  how  can  I  hope  for  this  when  I  see 
 so  many,  not  only  in  the  congregation,  but  in  the  church,  doing 
 all  in  their  power,  by  their  unbelief  and  hardness  of  heart,  to 
 grieve  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  provoke  him  to  forsake  us  forever. 
 
672 
 
 TRUTH  RECALLED 
 
 We  are  far  more  undeserving  of  the  blessing  now,  than  we  were 
 at  the  commencement  of  the  year.  To  some  of  you,  all  this 
 may  appear  little  better  than  weakness  and  folly,  but  were  you 
 called  on,  as  are  the  ministers  of  Christ,  to  sit  down  and  con- 
 template in  solitude  the  infallible  truth  of  God's  word,  and  the 
 awful  threatenmgs  which  it  contains;  were  you  obliged  to  look 
 steadily  at  death  and  judgment  and  the  eternal  world,  and  to 
 contemplate  the  miseries  of  the  wicked  in  the  regions  of  des- 
 pair ;  and  then  turn  and  see  the  living  hastening  to  those  miser- 
 ies, you  would  find  it  no  trifle.  But  perhaps  some  hearer  will 
 say,  it  may  afford  consolation  and  encouragement  to  reflect  that 
 the  church  at  least  will  derive  some  benefit  from  the  truths  ex- 
 hibited to  them.  The  church,  the  church  in  its  present  state, 
 afford  encouragement !  It  is  true,  some  few  of  them  do,  and 
 most  heartily  do  I  thank  them  for  it.  But  to  contemplate  it  as 
 a  body,  it  affords  any  thing  rather  than  encouragement.  I  will 
 not,  however,  judge  them,  but  call  upon  them  to  judge  them- 
 selves. Say,  professor — I  address  each  individual — would  it 
 afford  the  speaker  any  encouragement  to  know  just  how  much 
 you  have  been  aflected  by  each  of  the  discourses  mentioned 
 above  ?  Would  it  afford  him  any  encouragement  to  enter  un- 
 seen your  closet,  and  listen  to  your  prayers,  and  look  into  your 
 hearts  and  see  how  much,  or  rather,  how  little  you  feel  ?  I 
 doubt  not  indeed  that  there  are  closets  and  hearts  among  you,  a 
 sight  of  which  would  console  and  encourage  me;  but  can  you 
 doubt  that  were  I  to  see  the  church  as  God  sees  it,  every  ray  of 
 hope  and  consolation,  and  encouragement,  would  vanish  at 
 once  7  Indeed,  it  is  the  little  effect  which  the  truth  produces  on 
 those  who  profess  to  believe  it,  which  more  than  any  thing  else, 
 occasions  discouragement.  Do  you  recollect,  professor,  what 
 was  said  to  you  at  the  close  of  the  sermon  on  the  worm  that 
 never  dies,  and  the  fire  that  is  not  quenched  1  Has  it  produced 
 any  salutary  effect  ?  Do  you  recollect  the  statement  that  every 
 one  who  delights  in  the  law  of  the  Lord,  and  meditates  therein 
 day  and  night,  shall  be  flourishing  and  fruitful  like  a  tree  plant- 
 ed by  the  rivers  of  water]  Did  that  produce  any  effect? 
 Could  I  see  you  properly  affected  by  the  truth,  could  I  see  you 
 escaping  from  that  worldly  spirit  which  now  eats  out  all  the 
 life  of  your  religion :  could  I  see  any  thing  like  a  general  prev- 
 
AND  APPLIED. 
 
 573 
 
 alence  of  religious  feelings  and  meditation  among  you,  it  would 
 at  once  strengthen  my  hands,  encourage  my  heart,  and  animate 
 me  to  labor  with  hopes  of  success.  But  at  present,  if  asked  in 
 the  language  of  the  prophet,  what  are  those  wounds  in  thy 
 hands,  I  must  answer  in  his  words  :  They  are  those  wherewith 
 I  was  wounded  in  the  house  of  my  friends. 
 
THE  NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 
 And  the  city  had  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither  of  the  moon  to  shine  in  it ;  for 
 the  glory  of  God  did  lighten  it,  and  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof 
 
 Rev.^xxi.  23. 
 
 The  beloved  disciple  in  this  chapter  gives  i;s  a  particular  de- 
 scription of  the  heavenly  world,  as  it  appeared  to  him  in  vision. 
 In  condescension  to  our  infirmities,  which  render  it  difficult  for 
 us  to  form  clear  conceptions  of  invisible  and  spiritual  things, 
 this  happy  world  is  represented  to  us  as  a  magnificent  city 
 which,  in  allusion  to  the  ancient  metropolis  of  Judea,  is  styled 
 the  New  Jerusalem. 
 
 To  show  the  symmetry  and  proportion,  which  prevail  in 
 heaven,  and  the  perfect  safety  of  its  inhabitants,  this  city  is  said 
 to  be  four  square,  and  to  be  surrounded  by  a  wall,  great  and 
 high,  with  a  guard  of  angels  at  every  gate. 
 
 It  had  three  gates  on  every  side,  to  show  that,  from  all  parts 
 of  the  world,  there  is  a  way  open  to  heaven  for  those  who  are 
 suitably  qualified  to  enjoy  it;  and  that  persons  will  come  from 
 the  East,  and  the  West,  and  the  North,  and  the  South,  to  sit 
 down  together  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  On  these  gates  the 
 names  of  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel  were  inscribed,  to  intimate 
 that  none  but  the  true  Israel  of  God  will  be  allowed  to  enter 
 therein.  On  the  twelve  precious  stones,  which  composed  the 
 foundations  of  the  city  walls,  were  engraved  the  names  of  the 
 
THE    NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 
 575 
 
 twelve  apostles  of  the  Lamb;  intimating,  that  the  church  in 
 heaven,  like  the  church  on  earth,  is  built  upon  the  foundation  of 
 the  prophets  and  apostles,  Jesus  Christ  himself  being  the  chief 
 Corner  Stone.  To  show  how  far  heaven  exceeds  the  world  in 
 which  we  live,  those  things  which  we  here  prize  most  highly 
 are  represented  as  being  there  applied  to  the  most  common  and 
 ordinary  uses.  The  wall  itself  was  composed  of  jasper,  its 
 foundations  of  the  most  precious  stones;  its  gates  of  pearl,  and 
 even  the  streets  were  paved  with  the  purest  gold,  transparent  as 
 glass. 
 
 Conceive  then,  my  friends,  if  you  are  able,  how  splendid,  how 
 glorious,  how  dazzhng  such  a  city  must  appear,  thus  composed 
 of  gold,  pearls,  diamonds,  and  all  manner  of  precious  stones, 
 when  the  sun  poured  upon  it  his  meridian  beams,  and  filled 
 every  part  of  it  with  a  blaze  of  light.  Yet  even  this  falls  far 
 short  of  the  truth;  for  the  city  was  illuminated  not  by  the 
 beams  of  the  natural  sun,  but  by  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  rays 
 of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness.  Nor  is  this  all.  To  us  nothing 
 is  more  cheering,  more  valuable,  more  necessary  than  the  light 
 of  the  sun;  and  without  it,  the  most  magnificent  cities  would 
 lose  all  their  beauty  in  our  eyes.  But  in  the  New  .Jerusalem 
 even  this  is  not  wanted;  for,  says  the  apostle,  the  city  had  no 
 need  of  the  sun,  or  of  the  moon  to  shine  in  it;  for  the  glory  of 
 God  did  lighten  it,  and  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof  It  is  this 
 part  of  the  apostle's  description  which  I  propose  more  particu- 
 larly to  consider ;  and  my  object  is  to  show  that  the  inhabitants 
 of  heaven  have  no  need  of  the  sun.  or  any  other  created  lumi- 
 nary. 
 
 With  a  view  to  illustrate  and  establish  this  truth,  let  us  inquire 
 what  are  the  purposes  for  which  we  need  the  celestial  bodies, 
 while  we  reside  in  this  lower  world. 
 
 These  purposes  are  particularly  enumerated  in  the  first  chap- 
 ter of  Genesis,  where  we  have  an  account  of  their  creation. 
 And  God  said,  let  there  be  light  in  the  firmament  of  heaven,  to 
 divide  the  day  from  the  night,  and  let  them  be  for  signs,  and  for 
 seasons,  and  for  days,  and  for  years ;  and  let  them  be  for  lights 
 in  the  firmament  of  heaven,  to  give  light  upon  the  earth.  Such 
 are  the  purposes  for  which  the  heavenly  luminaries  were  created; 
 such  the  uses  which  they  were  designed  to  subserve.  But  for 
 none  of  these  purposes  will  they  be  needed  by  the  inhabitants 
 of  the  heavenly  world. 
 
576 
 
 THE    NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 
 I.  The  principal  purpose  here  mentioned,  for  which  the  heav- 
 enly bodies  were  created,  and  for  which  we  need  them  in  this 
 lower  world  is,  to  give  light  upon  the  earth.  In  fufilling  the 
 end  of  their  creation,  they  subserve  at  once  our  convenience  and 
 happiness;  for  truly  the  light  is  sweet,  and  a  pleasant  thing  it  is 
 to  behold  the  sun.  How  dark,  how  cheerless,  how  unfit  for  the 
 habitation  of  man  would  this  world  be  without  them.  But 
 agreeable  and  necessary  as  they  are  to  us,  the  New  Jerusalem 
 needs  them  not  for  this  purpose;  for  the  glory  of  God  doth 
 hghten  it,  and  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof  My  friends,  how 
 infinitely  must  that  light  surpass  ours,  and  how  little  do  those 
 who  enjoy  it  need  the  beams  of  the  natural  sun ;  which  when 
 shining  in  meridian  splendor  reflects  but  one  faint  ray  of  Jeho- 
 vah's glory.  We  may  indeed  conceive  of  this  luminary  as  only 
 a  vast  mirror,  placed  opposite  to  one  of  the  open  gates  of  heaven, 
 receiving  and  reflecting  to  creatures,  some  rays  of  that  stream 
 of  light  which  issues  from  it  far  and  wide.  But  while  even  this 
 luminary  is,  as  it  were,  only  a  moon,  Avhich  shines  with  borrowed 
 light,  the  Lord  God  is  indeed  a  Sun;  a  Sun  indebted  to  none  for 
 his  beams;  for,  says  the  apostle,  God  is  light;  nay,  he  is  the 
 Fath-er  of  lights,  giving  light  to  all,  but  receiving  it  from  none. 
 He  dwelleth  continually  in  his  own  light;  in  light  unapproach- 
 able by  mortals,  and  covers  himself  with  light  and  majesty  as 
 with  a  garment.  Such,  such  is  the  being  who  enlightens  the 
 New  Jerusalem. 
 
 And  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof 
 
 The  unfathomable  flood  of  light  and  glory,  which  unceasingly 
 flows  from  the  Father,  is  collected  and  concentrated  in  the  per- 
 son of  his  Son;  for  He  is  the  brightness  of  the  Father's  glory 
 and  the  express  image  of  his  person.  Heaven  is  therefore 
 illuminated  not  only  with  God's  glory,  but  with  the  brightness 
 of  his  glory,  with  the  brightest  and  most  dazzling  efl'ulgence  of 
 divine,  uncreated  light,  a  light  which  enlightens  and  cheers  the 
 soul,  as  Avell  as  the  body.  Of  the  nature  and  degree  of  this 
 light,  who  but  the  happy  beings  that  enjoy  it  can  form  any  con- 
 ception. There  are  indeed  several  passages  in  Scripture,  which 
 seem  intended  to  give  us  some  idea  of  it,  but  they  serve  little 
 more  than  to  convince  us  that  it  is  altogether  inconceivable. 
 
 For  instance,  St.  John  informs  us,  that  he  saw  in  vision  a 
 mighty  angel  come  down  from  heaven,  and  that  the  earth  was 
 
THE     NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 
 577 
 
 lightened  with  his  glory.  But  if  the  glory  of  a  single  angel  was 
 sufficient  to  lighten  the  earth,  what  must  be  the  glory  of  the 
 Lord  of  angels ;  and  how  overpowering  the  light  of  heaven, 
 where  millions  of  angels  continually  reside,  and  God  and  the 
 Lamb  display  their  brightest  glories  ! 
 
 Again :  When  Christ  appeared  to  the  same  apostle,  his  eyes 
 were  as  a  flame  of  fire,  and  his  feet  as  brass  glowing  in  a  fur- 
 nace, and  his  countenance  as  the  sun  shining  in  his  strength;  so 
 that,  unable  to  support  the  sight,  St.  John  fell  at  his  feet  as  dead. 
 But  if  his  glories  were  thus  overpowering  when,  in  condescen- 
 sion to  the  weakness  of  his  servant,  he  drew  a  v6il  over  them, 
 what  must  they  be  in  the  regions  above,  where  they  are  seen  in 
 all  their  brightness,  without  any  interposing  veil? 
 
 Once  more :  When  Moses  came  down  from  the  mount,  after 
 a  short  interview  with  God,  his  face  shone  with  a  lustre  so 
 dazzling,  that  even  his  brother  and  the  elders  of  Israel  were 
 unable  to  gaze  upon  it.  But  if  a  transient  view  of  the  glory  of 
 God,  seen  as  it  were  through  a  glass  darkly,  could  impart  such 
 a  lustre  to  a  piece  of  animated  clay,  what  insufferable  splendor 
 must  the  constant  presence  of  Jehovah  give  to  the  diamond 
 walls,  the  pearly  gates,  and  the  golden  streets  of  the  New  Jeru- 
 salem? How  must  they  glow  and  shine,  as  in  a  furnace,  when 
 the  Sun  of  Righteousness  pours  upon  them  his  effulgent  beams, 
 in  a  full  tide  of  glory !  and  how  must  the  spiritual  bodies  of 
 their  inhabitants,  which  resemble  the  glorified  body  of  their 
 Redeemer,  echpse  all  that  is  called  brilliant  and  dazzling  on 
 earth?  We  are  indeed  assured  that  all  the  righteous  shall  shine 
 forth  as  the  sun  in  the  kingdom  of  their  Father,  and  as  the 
 brightness  of  the  firmament  for  ever  and  ever.  Say  then,  my 
 friends,  does  the  New  Jerusalem  need  any  created  luminaries  to 
 shine  in  it,  or  do  its  inhabitants  need  the  light  of  the  sun,  when 
 every  individual  among  them  is  himself  a  sun?  Not  only  the 
 moon,  but  the  sun  itself  would  be  invisible,  amid  these  celestial 
 glories;  or  if  visible,  it  would  appear  only  as  a  cloud,  or  a  dark 
 spot  on  the  face  of  the  celestial  sky.  Then,  says  the  prophet, 
 shall  the  moon  be  confounded  and  the  sun  ashamed,  when  the 
 Lord  of  Hosts  shall  reign  in  Mount  Zion,  and  in  Jerusalem,  and 
 before  his  ancients  gloriously. 
 
 As  the  inhabitants  of  heaven  will  not  need  the  light  of  crea- 
 ted luminaries;  so,  we  may  add,  they  will  no  more  need  the 
 
 VOL.  I.  73 
 
578 
 
 THE   NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 
 assistance  of  human  teachers,  or  of  the  means  of  grace.  These 
 means  are  often  compared  to  the  snn  and  moon  by  the  inspired 
 writers,  because  they  are  instrumental  in  imparting  spiritual 
 light  and  knowledge  to  the  church,  as  the  sun  is  in  giving  light 
 to  the  world ;  and  because  the  light  which  they  convey  to  be- 
 lievers, is  no  less  necessary  to  their  souls,  than  the  light  of  the 
 sun  is  to  their  bodies.  But  however  necessary  these  means  may 
 be  to  the  church  on  earth,  they  will  be  entirely  needless  to  the 
 church  in  heaven;  for  when  that  which  is  perfect  is  come,  then 
 that  which  is  in  part  shall  be  done  away;  and  the  word  of  God, 
 the  sacrament  of  the  supper,  and  the  Lord's  day;  however  well 
 calculated  they  may  be  to  strengthen  the  faith  and  hopes  of 
 Christians  here,  will  be  of  no  use  when  faith  is  changed  to  sight, 
 and  hope  to  fruition.  Hence  the  prophet  informs  God's  people, 
 that  when  that  happy  time  shall  arrive,  the  sun  shall  no  longer 
 be  their  light  by  day.  neither  for  brightness  shall  the  moon  give 
 them  light;  but  the  Lord  shall  be  unto  them  an  everlasting  light, 
 and  their  God  their  glory;  that  is,  they  shall  no  longer  be  indebt- 
 ed to  human  teachers,  or  created  means  for  light  and  instruction; 
 but  see  and  be  taught  by  God  himself  The  spiritual  light  which 
 they  will  then  enjoy,  will  as  far  exceed  that  with  which  they 
 are  at  present  favored,  as  the  glory  of  God  and  the  liamb  exceeds 
 the  glory  of  the  natural  sun;  and  their  advances  in  divine 
 knowledge  will  be  proportionally  rapid  and  extensive.  The 
 prophet  Isaiah,  when  speaking  of  the  increased  privileges  and 
 means  of  grace  which  Christians  will  enjoy  even  in  this  world, 
 in  the  latter  ages  of  the  church,  informs  us  that  the  light  of  the 
 moon  shall  then  be  as  the  light  of  the  sun,  and  the  light  of  the 
 sun  seven  fold,  as  the  light  of  seven  days.  v 
 
 But  if  the  church  is  hereafter  to  be  favored  with  such  increas- 
 ed degrees  of  spiritual  light  and  divine  knowledge,  even  on 
 earth,  who  can  conceive  of  the  light  which  the  church  in  heaven 
 enjoys,  where  they  see  God  as  he  is,  and  know  him  even  as 
 they  are  known.  Well  may  it  be  said  of  those  who  enjoy  this, 
 that  they  have  no  need  of  the  spiritual  sun  or  moon,  or  of  those 
 burning  and  shining  lights  which  God  has  placed  in  his  golden 
 candlestick  to  enlighten  the  church  on  earth. 
 
 Little  do  they  need  human  teachers,  who  know  incomparably 
 more  of  divine  things  than  all  the  prophets  and  apostles  united 
 Knew,  while  here  below.    Little  do  they  need  the  Bible,  who 
 
THE    NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 
 579 
 
 have  forever  escaped  all  its  threatenitigs,  who  are  enjoying  all 
 its  promises,  who  intuitively  understand  all  its  doctrines,  and 
 who  have  arrived  at  that  heaven  to  which  it  points  out  the  way. 
 Little  do  they  need  the  Sabbath  or  the  symbols  of  Christ's  cru- 
 cified body,  who  enjoy  an  everlasting  Sabbath,  and  behold  face 
 to  face  the  glorified  body  of  their  Redeemer.  Do  we  need  a 
 candle  when  the  sun  shines  7  As  little  do  they  need  any  of  these 
 privileges  and  means  which  we  now  highly  and  deservedly 
 prize. 
 
 II.  Another  purpose  for  which  God  formed  the  sun  was,  we 
 are  told,  to  divide  the  day  from  the  night. 
 
 To  creatures  constituted  as  we  are,  the  vicissitude  of  day  and 
 night,  which  is  thus  produced  by  the  sun,  is  equally  necessary 
 and  agreeable;  and  vi'e ought  ever  to  remember  and  acknowledge 
 the  wisdom  and  goodness  to  which  it  is  owing.  Our  bodies  and 
 our  minds  are  soon  fatigued,  and  indispensably  require  the  re- 
 freshment of  sleep.  For  taking  this  refreshment,  the  silence  and 
 darkness  of  night  afford  an  opportunity  peculiarly  favorable,  an 
 opportunity  which  we  should  seek  in  vain,  were  the  earth  en- 
 lightened with  continual  day.  "As  the  mother,"  says  a  beautiful 
 writer,  "as  the  mother  moveth  about  her  house,  with  her  finger 
 on  her  lips,  and  stilleth  every  noise,  that  her  infant  may  not  be 
 disturbed,  as  she  draweth  the  curtains  around  its  bed,  and  shut- 
 teth  out  the  light  from  its  tender  eyes;  so  God  draweth  the 
 curtains  of  darkness  around  us;  so  he  maketh  all  things  to  be 
 hushed  and  still,  that  his  great  family  may  sleep  in  peace." 
 But  though  while  we  thus  need  the  refreshment  of  sleep,  the 
 goodness  of  God  appears  in  providing  a  proper  season  for  its 
 enjoyment,  yet  we  may  easily  perceive  that  it  would  be  a  great 
 privilege  to  be  freed  from  the  necessity  of  sleeping,  and  especially 
 from  that  subjection  to  weariness  and  fatigue  which  occasion  the 
 necessity.  At  present,  almost  one-third  of  our  time  is  lost  in 
 slumber;  and  our  most  important  business,  our  most  interesting 
 pursuits,  our  greatest  pleasures,  are  continually  interrupted  by 
 its  necessary  recurrence.  But  with  the  inhabitants  of  heaven 
 this  is  not  the  case.  They  neither  need  nor  know  the  vicissitude 
 of  day  and  night.  The  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect  are 
 already  like  the  angels;  and  their  bodies,  though  sown  in  weak- 
 ness, will  be  raised  in  power,  incapable  alike,  of  weariness, 
 sickness  or  pain.    Do  the  rays  of  light  grow  weary  in  their 
 
580 
 
 THE    NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 
 flight  from  the  sun]  ox  does  the  thunder-bolt  need  to  pause  and 
 seek  refreshment,  in  the  midst  of  its  career  ?  As  httle  do  the 
 inhabitants  of  heaven  become  weary  in  praising  and  enjoying 
 God.  As  Httle  do  they  need  refreshment  or  repose ;  for  their 
 spiritual  bodies  will  be  far  more  active,  and  refined  than  the 
 purest  light;  and  their  labor  itself  will  be  the  sweetest  rest. 
 Hence  heaven  is  styled  the  rest  which  remains  for  God's  people, 
 and  they  are  represented  as  serving  him  unceasingly  in  his 
 temple  above.  They  will  not  therefore,  lose  a  third  part  of 
 eternity  in  sleep.  No  night  will  be  necessary  to  refresh  them; 
 the  pulse  of  immortality  will  beat  strorig  in  every  vein;  the  gol- 
 den harp  will  never  drop  from  their  hands;  their  tongues  will 
 never  grow  weary  of  extolling  their  God  and  Redeemer,  but  will 
 through  eternity  pour  forth  songs  of  praise  as  unceasing  as  the 
 displays  of  those  glories  which  excite  them.  And  as  they  will 
 need  no  nights,  so  they  will  have  none.  St.  John,  once  and 
 again  assures  us,  that  there  shall  be  no  night  there;  and  the 
 prophet  Isaiah,  in  allusion  to  the  same  thing,  says  to  the  church. 
 Thy  sun  shall  no  more  go  down,  neither  shall  thy  moon  with- 
 draw itself;  but  the  Lord  shall  be  to  thee  an  everlasting  light. 
 Where  God  is  the  sun,  there  can  indeed  be  no  night;  for  his 
 glory  cannot  be  eclipsed  or  diminished.  He  must  shine  in  all 
 the  ineffable  brightness  of  the  Godhead,  without  diminution, 
 without  interruption  and  without  end;  and  Avill  thus  shine  in 
 those  regions  of  eternal  day,  when  all  the  lamps  of  heaven  are 
 extinguished  in  everlasting  night. 
 
 How  little  then  do  the  mansions  which  are  illuminated  by 
 his  glory  need  the  revolving  sun,  or  the  changeable  moon,  to 
 enlighten  them. 
 
 HI.  Another  purpose  for  which  the  heavenly  bodies  were 
 created,  was  to  serve  for  signs,  and  for  the  regulation  of  the  sea- 
 sons. In  this,  as  in  other  respects,  they  are  eminently  useful  to 
 a  world  like  ours.  The  heat  of  the  sun  is  no  less  necessary, 
 than  its  light;  but  the  convenience  and  happiness  of  man  require 
 that  this  heat  should  be  communicated  to  us  in  different  degrees, 
 at  different  periods.  An  uninterrupted  spring,  summer,  or 
 autumn,  and  still  more  a  perpetual  winter,  would  prove  injurious 
 and  destructive  in  the  highest  degree.  Yet  all  these  seasons 
 are  useful  in  their  turn;  even  winter,  the  least  pleasing  of  the 
 four,  is  no  less  necessary  to  the  earth,  exhausted  by  the  fertility 
 
THE    NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 
 581 
 
 of  autumn,  than  sleep  is  to  man,  wearied  by  the  labors  of  the 
 day.  That  this  agreeable  and  necessary  vicissitude  of  the 
 seasons,  is  occasioned  by  the  different  positions  of  our  world 
 with  respect  to  the  sun,  you  need  not  be  told;  and  the  wisdom 
 and  goodness,  which  have  thus  provided  a  season  for  every 
 purpose,  are  equally  obvious. 
 
 The  heavenly  bodies,  we  are  informed,  are  also  appointed  for 
 signs.  By  their  apparent  changes  of  place,  and  by  the  different 
 appearances  which  they  produce  in  the  atmosphere,  they  point 
 out  the  proper  time  for  various  operations;  guide  the  mariner  in 
 his  pathless  way  through  the  deep,  and  assist  him,  as  well  as 
 the  husbandman,  to  foresee  in  some  measure  those  changes  in 
 the  weather,  which  may  prove  either  beneficial  or  injurious. 
 Hence  our  Saviour  observes  to  the  pharisees,  that  they  could 
 discover  the  face  of  the  sky,  and  even  the  irrational  animals 
 are  guided  and  directed  with  respect  to  their  motions;  for  says 
 the  prophet.  The  stork  in  the  heavens  knoweth  her  appointed 
 time;  the  turtle,  the  crane  and  the  swallow  observe  the  time  of 
 their  coming.  But  however  necessary  the  celestial  luminaries 
 may  be  for  signs  and  seasons  on  earth,  they  are  needed  for  neith- 
 er of  these  purposes  by  the  inhabitants  of  heaven.  They  need 
 no  pole  star  to  guide  their  rapid  flight  through  the  immeasura- 
 ble ocean  of  etherial  space;  for  God,  their  sun,  is  every  where, 
 and  where  he  is,  there  is  heaven;  there  they  are  at  home.  They 
 need  no  signs  to  warn  them  of  approaching  storms,  or  impend- 
 ing dangers;  for  they  enjoy  uninterrupted  sunshine  and  perpet- 
 ual peace.  No  storms,  no  dangers  invade  their  mansions  of 
 eternal  rest.  The  sun,  says  St.  John,  shall  not  light  on  them 
 nor  any  heat.  Nor  will  they  need  the  vicissitude  of  seasons. 
 The  heavenly  world  requires  not  the  rest  which  winter  gives  to 
 render  it  fruitful.  The  tree  of  life,  which  produces  twelve  man- 
 ner of  fruits,  yields  its  fruits  every  month;  such  fruit  as  angels 
 eat,  and  at  its  root  the  river  of  life  continually  flows.  They 
 shall  therefore  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst  any  more,  for  the 
 Lamb  shall  feed  them,  and  lead  them  to  fountains  of  living 
 waters;  and  he  that  sitteth  on  the  throne  shall  dwell  among 
 Ihem,  and  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes.  No  passing 
 cloud  will  ever  veil  even  for  a  moment  his  soul-enrapturing,  life- 
 giving  beams,  which  banish  Avinter  as  well  as  night  from  heav- 
 en.   No  chilling  blasts  shall  cool  their  fervor ;  no  sudden  show- 
 
682 
 
 THE    NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 
 ers  extinguish  the  flame  of  love  which  glows  in  celestial  bosoais, 
 but  the  rainbow  shall  ever  encircle  the  throne,  and  spring,  sum- 
 mer, and  autumn,  all  united  into  one,  eternally  prevail.  Surely 
 then,  the  New  Jerusalem  needs  not  the  sun  for  seasons  or  signs. 
 
 IV.  Lastly:  Another  purpose  for  which  the  heavenl)'' bodies 
 were  created,  was  to  show  the  flight,  and  mark  the  divisions  of 
 time.  For  this,  as  well  as  for  other  purposes,  they  are  highly 
 necessary  to  man.  Were  there  no  such  divisions  of  time,  as 
 days  and  years,  we  should  probably  think  even  less  of  its  flight, 
 than  we  do  at  present;  we  could  only  form  uncertain  conjectures 
 respecting  either  the  portion  of  our  lives,  that  had  elapsed,  or 
 that  which  probably  might  remain ;  and  should  find  it  far  more 
 difficult,  than  we  now  do,  so  to  number  our  days  as  to  apply 
 our  hearts  to  wisdom.  Were  it  not  for  the  changes  which  in- 
 creasing age  produces  in  our  bodies,  we  should  scarcely  realize 
 that  we  were  growing  older;  and  our  sands  would  probably  be 
 run  out,  ere  we  suspected  that  one  half  of  them  were  spent. 
 Christians  could  not  then  be  comforted,  nor  sinners  alarmed,  by 
 the  reflection,  that  they  were  one  day  or  one  year  nearer  to 
 death ;  conscience  would  lose  half  its  power,  and  the  ambassa- 
 dors of  Christ  be  deprived  of  one  of  their  most  effectual  weapons. 
 In  addition,  the  past  history  of  the  church  and  the  world  would 
 be  involved  in  inextricable  perplexity,  luicertainty  and  confu- 
 sion ;  no  past  or  future  period  of  time  could  be  marked  with 
 precision,  and  the  portion  which  has  elapsed  since  the  creation 
 of  the  world,  or  the  birth  of  our  Saviour,  tould  not  be  ascer- 
 tained :  the  word  of  God  would  lose  rau?h  of  its  value ;  and  the 
 approach  of  events  foretold  in  prophecy  could  not  be  known  till 
 they  actually  arrived.  But  though  such  livisions  of  time,  as 
 days  and  years,  are  thus  necessary  on  earth,  they  will  be  per- 
 fectly needless  to  the  inhabitants  of  heaven.  With  them,  time 
 has  ended  and  eternity  begun;  and  eternity  neither  needs,  nor  is 
 capable  of  division.  They  know  with  the  utmost  certainty, 
 that  their  happiness  will  never,  never  end.  Why  then  should 
 they  wish  to  know,  what  possible  advantage  could  it  be  to  them 
 to  know,  at  any  given  period,  how  many  days  or  years  had 
 passed  away  since  they  arrived  in  heaven  ?  Even  were  such 
 divisions  of  time  known  there,  they  could  find  no  leisure  to 
 count  them;  or  should  they  attempt  it,  they  would  soon  find  it 
 impossible.    Successive  millions  of  ages  will  there  fly  so  rapidly 
 
THE    NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 
 583 
 
 away,  that  even  the  continually  expanding  minds  of  the  blessed, 
 would  soon  become  unable  to  enumerate  or  even  to  conceive  of 
 their  number;  and  they  would  be  lost  and  overwhelmed  in 
 attempting  to  measure  the  duration  of  their  own  existence.  You 
 have  doubtless,  my  friends,  often  observed  that,  when  your 
 minds  have  been  intently  or  pleasmgly  occupied,  you  have  be- 
 come almost  unconscious  of  the  flight  of  time;  minutes  and 
 hours  have  flown  away  with  apparently  unusual  swiftness,  and 
 the  setting  or  rising  sun  has  surprised  you  long  before  you 
 expected  its  approach.  But  in  heaven,  the  saints  shall  be  en- 
 tirely lost  and  swallowed  up  in  God;  and  their  minds  wUl  be  so 
 completely  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  his  inefl"able, 
 infinite,  uncreated  glories,  that  they  will  be  totally  unconscious 
 how  time,  or  rather  how  eternity  passes  ;  and  not  only  years, 
 but  millions  of  ages,  such  as  we  call  ages,  will  be  flown  ere  they 
 are  aware.  Thus  a  thousand  years  will  seem  to  them  but  as 
 one  day ;  and  yet  so  great,  so  ecstatic  will  be  their  felicity,  that 
 one  day  will  be  as  a  thousand  years.  And  as  there  will  be 
 nothing  to  interrupt  them,  no  bodily  wants  to  call  oflT  their  atten- 
 tion, no  weariness  to  compel  them  to  rest,  no  vicissitude  of  sea- 
 sons or  of  day  and  night,  to  disturb  their  contemplations,  it  is 
 more  than  possible  that  innumerable  ages  may  pass  away,  before 
 they  think  of  asking  how  long  they  have  been  in  heaven,  or 
 even  before  they  are  conscious  that  a  single  hour  has  elapsed. 
 
 But  we  must  pause  It  doth  not  yet  fully  appear  what  we 
 shall  be ;  and  we  hardly  dare  describe,  or  even  think  of  so  much 
 as  appears.  But  do  those  who  enjoy  sUch  things,  need  the  sun 
 to  mark  tb.e  flight  or  division  of  time?  No:  ten  thousand 
 thousand  suns,  lighted  up,  one  after  the  other,  in  long  succession, 
 would  be  insufficient  for  this,  and  would  all  fade  away  and  be- 
 come extinct,  while  the  happiness  of  celestial  beings  was  as  it 
 v/ere  but  just  commencing.  He  only,  who  is  the  Sun  of  the  New 
 Jerusalem,  is  able  to  measure  the  duration  of  the  existence  of 
 its  inhabitants,  nor  can  even  He  measure  its  extent  with  any 
 measure  shorter  than  His  own. 
 
 And  now,  my  Christian  friends,  you  who  are  Israelites  indeed, 
 ye  who  are  pilgrims  on  earth,  seeking  another  and  better  country; 
 ye  who  look  and  long  for  Christ's  second  appearing,  whose 
 treasure,  and  whose  hearts,  and  whose  conversation  are  in 
 heaven  !  since  you  are  soon  to  bid  adieu  to  the  sun  and  moon 
 
584 
 
 THE    NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 
 forever,  and  go  to  those  happy  mansions  where  you  will  need 
 them  no  more. — forget  them  and  all  sublunary  objects  for  a 
 moment,  and  carried  by  faith  to  the  summit  of  that  great  and 
 high  mountain  on  which  St.  John  stood  in  vision,  contemplate 
 with  him  the  New  Jerusalem,  your  future  habitation. 
 
 Behold  a  city,  built  with  the  most  perfect  regularity,  extending 
 in  every  direction  farther  than  the  eye  can  reach,  surrounded  by 
 a  wall  of  jasper,  of  immeasurable  height,  and  entirely  composed 
 of  gold,  pearls,  diamonds  and  precious  stones.  See  its  golden 
 streets  thronged  with  inhabitants,  whose  bodies  composed  of 
 Ught  seven  times  refined,  are  far  more  dazzlingly  bright  and 
 glorious  than  all  the  sparkling  gems  which  surround  them.  See 
 among  them  the  patriarchs,  the  prophets,  the  apostles  and  mar- 
 tyrs, distinguished  from  their  fellow  saints  by  their  superior 
 brightness.  See  the  gates  guarded,  and  the  streets  filled  by 
 thousands  of  thousands,  and  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand 
 of  angels  and  arch-angels,  thrones  and  dominions,  principalities 
 and  powers,  each  one  of  whom  seems  sufficiently  glorious  to  be 
 himself  a  god.  See  the  golden  streets,  the  diamond  walls  and 
 pearly  gates  of  this  celestial  city,  reflecting  from  every  part 
 streams  of  light  and  glory,  which  flow  in  a  full  tide  from  all 
 directions,  not  from  the  sun,  but  from  a  throne,  more  dazzlingly 
 bright  than  ten  thousand  suns,  raised  high  in  the  midst.  See 
 the  innumerable  stirring  throngs  of  saints  and  angels,  enveloped 
 in  the  boundless  flood  of  light  and  glory,  all  falling  prostrate 
 before  the  dirone.  and  with  one  voice  praising  Him  who  liveth 
 forever  and  ever.  Hear  tlieir  united  voices,  as  the  voice  of  many 
 waters,  and  as  the  voice  of  mighty  thunderings,  exclaiming. 
 Alleluia!  for  the  Lord  God  Omnipotent  reigneth.  Blessing  and 
 glory,  and  honor,  and  power,  be  unto  Him  that  sitteth  on  the 
 throne  and  to  the  Lamb  forever  and  ever.  Then  raise  your 
 eyes  to  contemplate  the  object  of  this  worship,  Him  who  fills 
 this  throne.  See  the  Ancient  of  days,  the  great  I  Am,  the  Being 
 of  beings,  the  Being  who  is,  the  Being  who  was,  the  Being  who 
 shall  be  forever.  See  at  his  right  hand  a  man,  the  friend,  the 
 brother,  the  Redeemer  of  man,  clothed  with  the  brightness  of  his 
 Father's  glory,  the  express  image  of  his  person.  See  him  with 
 a  countenance  of  mingled  majesty,  meekness,  condescension  and 
 love,  surveying  the  coiualess  myriads  of  his  people  around  him, 
 and  his  eye  successively  meeting  their  eyes  in  turn,  and  pouring 
 
THE     NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 
 585 
 
 into  their  souls  such  inefifable  happiness,  as  is  almost  too  much 
 even  for  immortals  to  bear. 
 
 But  why  do  I  attempt  to  describe  what  is  indescribable,  to 
 utter  what  is  unutterable,  to  lead  you  to  conceive  of  what  is 
 inconceivable?  In  vain  do  I  call  upon  you  to  see  these  things; 
 for  eye  hath  not  seen,  nqr  ear  heard,  nor  the  heart  of  man  con- 
 ceived, the  things  v/hich  God  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love 
 him.  And  we  may  add,  happy  is  it  for  us  that  we  cannot  see 
 thenj.  The  sight  would  be  too  dazzling  for  mortal  eyes,  too 
 much  for  mortal  frames  to  bear.  Suffice  it  to  say,  it  is  a  far 
 more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory.  It  is  glory  ;  it  is 
 a  weight  of  glory;  it  is  a  far  more  exceeding  weight  of  glory. 
 It  is  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory.  This, 
 this  renders  it  perfect  and  complete.  Were  it  not  eternal,  it 
 were  nothing.  But  it  is  so.  Yes,  let  immortals  hear  and 
 rejoice,  that  the  New  Jerusalem  is  eternal  as  the  Being  that 
 formed  it. 
 
 My  Christian  friends,  is  such  our  eternal  habitation?  Do  we 
 look  for  such  things?  What  manner  of  persons  then  ought  we 
 to  be?  How  ought  we  to  conduct?  How  ought  we  to  feel? 
 I  cannot  tell  you.  May  the  Spirit  of  God  tell  you,  for  he  alone 
 is  able  to  do  it. 
 
 Unwillingly,  my  friends,  do  I  leave  the  contemplation  of 
 these  enrapturing  scenes.  Unwillingly  do  I  descend  from  the 
 mount  of  God,  and  leave  heaven  behind.  I  am  ready  to  say 
 with  the  disciples  on  the  mount  of  transfiguration :  It  is  good 
 to  be  here.  But  duty  calls  us  down,  and  we  must  descend. 
 We  must  descend  to  address  sinners,  grovelling  in  the  dust, 
 who  are  so  strongly  attached  to  this  vain,  dark,  empty  world, 
 that  no  motives,  no  persuasion,  no  entreaties,  can  induce  them 
 to  rise  and  aim  at  heaven.  You  have  heard,  my  earthly-mind- 
 ed hearers,  a  faint,  O  how  faint  a  description  of  that  heavenly 
 world  which  you  slight,  and  which  you  are  bartering  for  the 
 unsatisfying,  perishing  vanities  of  time  and  sense. 
 
 But  faint  as  the  description  is,  is  it  not  sufficient  to  show  you 
 the  madness,  the  folly  of  neglecting  heaven  for  the  sake  of  any 
 thing  which  this  world  contains?  Can  you  be  contented  lose 
 this  heaven  forever?  Yet  lose  it  you  must,  unless  you  speedily 
 transfer  your  affections  from  earth  to  heaven,  and  become  fol- 
 lowers of  them,  v/ho  through  faith  and  patience,  are  now 
 inheriting  the  promises.  vol.  i.  74 
 
586 
 
 THE    NEW  JERUSALEM. 
 
 If  you  are  not  washed  in  the  blood,  and  sanctified  by  the  Spirit 
 of  Christ,  lieaven  will  never  open  to  you  its  gates;  the  angelic 
 guard  will  never  admit  you;  for  hear  the  words  of  eternal  truth: 
 There  shall  in  nocase  enter  it  any  thing  that  defileth,  neither  what- 
 soever worketh  abomination,  or  maketh  a  lie,  but  they  which 
 are  written  in  the  Lamb's  book  of  life.  Therefore  if  any  are 
 found,  at  death,  defiled  with  sin  unrepented  of,  that  abomina- 
 ble thing  which  God  hates,  they  shall  in  no  wise  be  admitted 
 into  the  kingdom  of  heaven ;  but  must  be  cast  into  outer  dark- 
 ness, where  shall  be  weeping  and  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth. 
 There  they  will  painfully  need  the  light  of  the  sun,  but  will 
 not  enjoy  it;  for  to  them  is  reserved  the  blackness  of  darkness 
 forever.  To  add  to  their  wretchedness,  they  will,  like  the  rich 
 man  in  the  parable,  behold  heaven  afar  off,  and  see  others  ad- 
 mitted into  it,  while  they  are  thrust  out.  O  then,  my  friends, 
 be  persuaded  before  you  lose  forever  the  light  of  the  sun,  and  the 
 more  precious  light  of  the  gospel,  to  obtain  the  qualifications 
 necessary,  for  admission  into  that  city,  which  has  no  need  of  the 
 sun,  or  moon  to  shine  in  it,  because  the  glory  of  God  doth  light- 
 en it,  and  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof 
 
GOD  IN  THE  MIDST  OF  HIS  CHURCH. 
 
 In  that  day  it  shall  be  said  to  Jerusalem,  Feai-  thou  not  ;  and  to  Zion,  Let 
 not  thy  hands  be  slack.  The  Lord  thy  God  in  the  midst  of  thee  is  mighty- 
 he  will  save,  he  will  rejoice  over  thee  with  joy;  he  will  rest  in  his  love; 
 he  will  joy  over  thee  with  singing.  —  Zephaniah  hi.  16, 17. 
 
 Those  of  you  who  are  conversant  with  the  writings  of  the 
 prophets,  have  doubtless  observed,  that  almost  all  their  messages 
 to  the  ancient  church,  begin  with  the  most  awful  threatenings 
 and  end  with  the  most  animating  promises.  They,  however, 
 always  intimate,  that  the  threatenings  were  denounced  against 
 the  church  then  existing,  and  that  they  would  be  immediately 
 executed  on  account  of  its  apostacy;  but  that  the  promises  re- 
 ferred to  a  time  then  future,  and  would  not  be  fulfilled  till  after 
 many  years.  Indeed  it  is  more  than  intimated  in  many  passages 
 that  these  promises  referred  to  the  Christian  church,  and  would 
 not  be  fulfilled  till  after  the  coming  of  Christ.  An  instance  of 
 this  we  have  in  the  chapter  before  us.  It  begins  with  a  woe 
 denounced  against  the  ancient  church,  and  announces  God's 
 determination  to  destroy  it;  but  to  preserve  a  remnant  which 
 should  renounce  its  sins,  to  which  as  a  church,  great  additions 
 should  be  made  from  among  the  Gentiles.  To  this  purified  and 
 increased  church,  which,  in  allusion  to  ancient  names,  is  still 
 called  Jerusalem  and  Zion,  our  text  refers;  and  by  the  day 
 mentioned  in  it,  is  meant  the  times  of  the  Gospel  dispensation. 
 In  that  day  it  shall  be  said  to  Jerusalem,  Fear  thou  not,  and  to 
 Zion,  Let  not  thy  hands  be  slack ;  for  the  Lord  thy  God  in  the 
 midst  of  thee  is  mighty.    He  will  save,  he  will  rejoice  over  thee 
 
588 
 
 GOD    IN    THE  MIDST 
 
 with  joy ;  he  will  rest  in  his  love,  he  will  joy  over  thee  with 
 singing. 
 
 My  brethren,  the  age  in  which  we  live  is  part  of  the  day  here 
 referred  to;  and  the  language  of  this  passage  is  God's  language 
 to  his  church,  not  indeed  to  all  who  have  a  place  in  his  visible 
 church,  but,  as  it  is  expressed  in  the  context,  to  all  whose  tongue 
 is  not  deceitful,  who  do  not  practise  iniquity  or  speak  lies,  but 
 trust  in  the  name  of  the  Lord ;  that  is,  to  the  whole  body  of  real 
 Christians.  This  body  is  here  addressed  in  the  language  of 
 encouragement  and  of  exhortation.  Let  us  attend,  in  the  first 
 place,  to  what  is  said  to  it  by  way  of  encouragement. 
 
 1.  The  Church  is  here  encouraged  by  the  assurance,  that  Je- 
 hovah is  her  God.  He  himself  directs  those  who  address  his 
 church  to  call  him  so.  It  shall  be  said  to  Zion,  Jehovah  thy 
 God ;  thy  God  in  a  peculiar  sense;  thy  covenant  God,  who  has 
 chosen  thee  to  be  his  people,  and  has  drawn  thee  to  enter  into 
 a  covenant  with  him  as  thy  God.  This  relation  he  sustained 
 with  respect  to  his  ancient  people,  before  they  burst  asunder  the 
 bonds  of  his  covenant  by  their  apostacy.  Hence  in  their  best 
 days  we  find  them  saying,  this  God  is  our  God  forever  and  ever; 
 and  God,  even  our  God,  shall  help  us.  This  language  the  New 
 Testament  Church  may  still  employ,  for  Jehovah  is  her  God, 
 her  own  covenant  God ;  and  he  becomes  in  this  sense  the  God 
 of  all  who  choose  him  to  be  tiieir  God  and  enroll  themselves 
 among  his  people. 
 
 2.  The  Church  is  further  encouraged  by  assurances  of  God's 
 everlasting,  unchanging  love,  and  of  his  gracious  designs  re- 
 specting her.  She  is  assured  that  he  has  formed  an  unalterable 
 determination  to  save  her.  He  will  save;  that  is,  he  has  deter- 
 mined to  do  it.  This  determination  was  formed  in  the  counsels 
 of  eternity.  Hence  God  says  to  his  church,  in  another  passage, 
 I  have  loved  thee  with  an  everlasting  love ;  therefore  with  loving 
 kindness  have  I  drawn  thee.  To  the  same  truth  St.  Paul 
 alludes,  when  writing  to  Christians  he  says.  Blessed  be  the  God 
 and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  hath  blessed  us  with 
 all  spiritual  blessings  in  heavenly  things  in  Christ ;  according 
 as  he  hath  chosen  us  in  him  before  the  foundation  of  the  world, 
 that  we  should  be  holy  and  without  blame  before  him  in  love. 
 This  everlasting  love  the  church  is  assured  will  not  change  or 
 fail.    Thy  God  will  rest  in  his  love;  that  is,  he  will  continue  to 
 
OF    HIS  CHURCH. 
 
 689 
 
 love  thee.  He  will  remain  in  the  exercise  of  love  as  in  a  place 
 of  rest;  as  in  something  with  which  he  is  satisfied.  Of  course, 
 the  determination  to  save  her,  which  this  love  at  first  prompted 
 him  to  form,  will  not  be  altered  or  laid  aside.  It  was  a  view  of 
 this  truth  which  led  the  apostle  to  exclaim  with  reference  to 
 himself  and  all  other  believers,  I  am  persuaded  that  neither 
 death,  nor  life,  nor  principalities,  nor  powers,  nor  things  present, 
 nor  things  to  come,  nor  height  nor  depth,  nor  any  other  creature, 
 shall  be  able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God  which  is  in 
 Christ  Jesus  our  Lord. 
 
 3.  Still  further  to  encourage  the  church  she  is  assured,  that  God 
 rejoices  in  his  love,  and  in  all  its  sanctifying  saving  effects  upon 
 his  people.  The  expressions  in  which  this  assurance  is  given 
 are  exceedingly  strong  :  He  will  rejoice  over  thee  with  joy,  he 
 will  joy  over  thee  with  singing.  Similar  expressions  are  used  in 
 other  places :  As  the  bridegroom  rejoiceth  over  the  bride,  so  shall 
 thy  God  rejoice  over  thee ;  for  I  will  be  glad  in  Jerusalem  and 
 joy  in  my  people ;  and  thou  shalt  be  a  crown  of  glory  in  the 
 hand  of  the  Lord,  and  a  royal  diadem  in  the  hand  of  thy  God. 
 In  language  less  glowing  indeed,  but  of  the  same  import,  our 
 Saviour  informs  us,  that  there  is  joy  in  Heaven  over  one  sinner 
 that  repenteth.  To  those  who  feel  competent  to  decide  what  it 
 is  proper  for  Jehovah  to  do,  and  what  it  is  improbable  that  he 
 will  do,  these  expressions  will  appear  too  strong,  and  the  truth 
 which  they  assert  will  seem  almost  incredible.  Hence  they  will 
 ask,  is  it  possible  to  believe  that  the  infinite,  eternal  Jehovah, 
 should  rejoice  in  this  manner  over  a  company  of  sinful,  insignifi- 
 cant mortals  ]  I  answer,  it  is  possible,  because  he  is  infinite. 
 An  infinite  being,  must  be  infinite  in  all  his  perfections.  If  he 
 is  infinite  in  greatness,  he  is  also  infinite  in  condescension.  And 
 all  that  we  can  say  of  God's  condescension  in  rejoicing  over  his 
 church,  is,  that  it  is  infinite.  It  is  so  indeed,  and  therefore  it  is 
 credible;  it  is  like  him;  it  is  just  such  condescension  as  we 
 might  expect  from  an  infinite  being.  This  joy  however  is  not 
 indicative  of  condescension  only.  It  is  the  natural  result  and 
 expression  of  God's  infinite  benevolence,  or  rather  of  his  peculiar 
 love  for  his  people;  a  love  whose  height  and  depth  and  length 
 and  breadth,  pass,  as  the  apostle  intimates,  our  knowledge.  All 
 the  feelings  of  an  infinite  being  must  be  infinitely  strong.  His 
 love  then  is  so.    But  love  rejoices  in  promoting  and  in  witness- 
 
590 
 
 GOD    IN    THE  MIDST 
 
 ing  the  happiness  of  the  beloved  object.  The  joy  thus  excited 
 is  equal  to  the  love  which  is  felt.  It  follows  that,  since  God 
 loves  his  people  with  an  infinite  love,  he  rejoices  in  promoting 
 and  witnessing  the'ir  happiness,  with  an  infinite  joy.  He  re- 
 joices in  the  purpose  which  he  has  formed  to  save  them.  He 
 rejoices  in  the  execution  of  this  purpose.  He  rejoices  in  the 
 effects  produced  by  its  execution.  And  in  them  he  will  rejoice 
 through  eternity.  The  beams  of  condescension,  love  and  joy 
 which  shine  forth  in  these  truths,  are  almost  too  dazzling  for 
 mortal  eyes  to  contemplate.  It  requires  strong  faith  to  believe 
 these  truths.  It  requires  a  strong  eye  to  gaze  upon  them.  It  is 
 blinding,  it  is  confounding  to  a  humble  soul,  to  look  up  and  see 
 the  glorious  Sun  of  the  universe  thus  shining  upon  it ;  to  see  the 
 eternal,  infinite  Jehovah  looking  down  upon  it  with  ineffable, 
 immeasurable  love  and  delight.  But  what  he  reveals,  we  must 
 believe,  and  endeavor  to  contemplate.  Know  then,  O  Christian, 
 that,  however  much  you  may  love  God,  he  loves  you  with  an 
 affection  infinitely  more  strong;  that,  however  greatly  you  may 
 rejoice  in  God,  he  rejoices  in  you  with  a  joy  infinitely  greater. 
 He  has  said,  It  is  more  blessed  to  give»than  to  receive,  and  en- 
 joys infinitely  more  happiness  in  bestowing  salvation,  than  you 
 now  feel,  or  than  you  ever  will  feel  in  receiving  it. 
 
 4.  The  church  is  assured  that  her  God  is  no  less  able  than 
 he  is  willing  to  efiect  her  salvation.  Jehovah,  thy  God,  is 
 mighty.  As  it  is  elsewhere  expressed,  he  is  one  that  speaks  in 
 righteousness,  mighty  to  save.  He  is  not  only  mighty,  but  Al- 
 mighty, omnipotent,  possessing  all  power  in  heaven,  on  earth 
 and  in  hell.  He  who  saves  the  church  from  her  enemies,  must 
 be  so,  for  such  is  their  number  and  strength,  that  nothing  less 
 than  omnipotence  can  subdue  them,  or  take  the  prisoners  out  of 
 their  hands.  Among  these  enemies,  are  sin  and  death  and 
 the  powers  of  darkness;  and  he  who  conquers  them  must  be 
 almighty.  He  must  be  able  to  save  even  to  the  uttermost.  On 
 this  ground  we  are  exhorted  to  trust  in  him :  Trust  ye  in  the 
 Lord  forever;  for  in  the  Lord  Jehovah  is  everlasting  strength. 
 
 The  church  is  assured  that  her  God  is  not  only  mighty  to 
 save,  but  present  to  save,  a  God  at  hand  and  not  afar  off:  The 
 Lord  thy  God  is  in  the  midst  of  thee.  He  is  in  the  midst  of  his 
 church,  not  merely  as  he  is  in  all  places,  but  in  a  peculiar  man- 
 ner.   This,  he  says,  is  my  rest  forever  ;  here  will  I  dwell,  for  I 
 
OF    HIS  CHURCH. 
 
 591 
 
 have  desired  it.  Hence  her  name  is  called  Jehovah-Shammah, 
 which  signifies,  the  Lord  is  there.  Hence  too,  believers  are  said 
 in  the  New  Testament  to  be  the  temple  of  God;  and  to  be  build- 
 ed  together  for  an  habitation  of  God  through  the  Spirit.  Christ 
 the  Lord  who  walks  in  the  midst  of  his  churches  and  who  is  in 
 the  midst  of  his  people,  Avhen  they  assemble  in  his  name,  is  one 
 in  whom  dwells  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily,  and  the 
 church  is  said  to  be  the  fulness  of  him,  that  is,  to  be  filled  by 
 him  who  filleth  all  in  all.  Such  are  the  gracious  assurances 
 which  God  has  given  his  church,  such  the  privileges  she  enjoys. 
 
 Let  us  now  attend,  secondly,  to  the  exhortations  which  accom- 
 pany them. 
 
 Of  these  exhortations,  the  first  is.  Fear  thou  not.  I  need  not 
 inform  you,  that  there  are  various  kinds  of  fear  mentioned  in 
 the  Scriptures.  Some  of  these  kinds  of  fear  it  is  the  indispen- 
 sable duty  of  the  church  to  exercise.  There  is  a  holy,  filial  fear 
 of  God,  a  fear  of  offending  him,  which  results  from  love.  This 
 fear  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom,  and  is  meant  by  the  inspired 
 writers  when  they  command  us  to  be  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord  all 
 the  day  long.  There  is  a  reverential  fear  of  God,  arising  from 
 a  view  of  his  holy  majesty,  greatness  and  glory.  This  kind  of 
 fear  is  intended  by  the  apostle  when  he  says.  Let  us  have  grace 
 to  serve  God  acceptably,  with  reverence  and  godly  fear.  There 
 is  also  a  humble  fear,  or  holy  jealousy  of  ourselves,  occasioned 
 by  a  sense  of  our  own  weakness  and  the  desperate  wickedness 
 and  deceilfulness  of  our  hearts  ;  a  fear  which  excites  to  constant 
 Avatch fulness,  and  whose  language  is;  Lord,  hold  thou  me  up 
 and  1  shall  be  safe.  This  fear  is  intended  by  the  royal  preacher 
 when  he  says,  happy  is  the  man  that  feareth  always.  -  None  of 
 these  kinds  of  fear  therefore  are  intended  in  our  text.  Indeed, 
 a  belief  of  the  assurances  it  contains,  is  calculated  to  produce 
 them  all ;  for  what  can  more  powerfully  tend  to  excite  a  filial 
 fear  of  offending  God,  or  a  reverential  fear  while  worshipping 
 him,  or  a  holy  jealousy  of  ourselves,  than  a  belief  that  Jehovah, 
 the  mighty  God,  the  High  and  Holy  One,  is  in  the  midst  of  us  1 
 But  there  are  other  kinds  of  fear  mentioned  by  the  inspired 
 writers,  which  are  highly  sinful  and  injurious,  but  which  God's 
 people  are  prone  to  indulge.  These  are  unbelieving  fears,  or 
 fears  which  come  from  a  disbelief  of  divine  promises,  and  which 
 are  attended  or  followed  by  a  slavish  fear  of  God  and  a  despond- 
 
592 
 
 GOD    IN    THE  MIBST 
 
 ing  fear  of  our  enemies.  Against  these  kinds  of  fear  the  exhor- 
 tation in  our  text  is  directed. 
 
 It  forbids  the  church,  first,  to  indulge  unbeheving  fears. 
 Christians  are  guilty  of  this,  when  they  doubt  whether  Christ  is 
 willing  to  receive  and  forgive  them ;  whether  he  will  carry  on 
 his  own  work  in  their  hearts,  and  in  the  world ;  whether  he  will 
 make  their  strength  equal  to  their  day,  when  trials,  afflictions, 
 and  death  shall  come.  They  are  guilty  of  it  when  they  say, 
 the  Lord  hath  forsaken  me,  and  my  God  hath  forgotten  me ; 
 and  when  they  ask,  Hath  the  Lord  cast  otf  forever?  will  he  be 
 favorable  no  more  7  They  are  guilty  of  it,  when  they  are  care- 
 ful and  troubled  respecting  the  morrow,  and  anxiously  ask, 
 What  shall  we  eat?  what  shall  we  drink?  and  wherewithal 
 shall  we  be  clothed?  It  is  their  privilege  and  their  duty  to  be 
 careful  for  nothing,  but  to  rejoice  in  the  Lord  always,  and  in 
 every  thing,  by  prayer  and  supplication  with  thanksgiving,  to 
 make  known  their  requests  to  God;  and  when  they  fail  of  this, 
 he  may  well  say  to  them,  AVhy  are  ye  fearful?  O  ye  of  little 
 faith  !  Is  not  Jehovah  your  God  ?  Has  he  not  determined  and 
 declared  that  he  will  save  thee,  that  he  will  supply  all  thy  need, 
 and  make  all  things  work  together  for  thy  good  ?  Has  he  not 
 assured  thee,  that  this  determination  is  unalterable,  and  the  love 
 which  prompted  it  unchangeable,  and  that  he  rejoices  in  fulfill- 
 ing it.  rejoices  in  thy  happiness  and  salvation?  Banish  then 
 these  imbelieving  fears.  Offend  not  him,  distress  not  thyself,  by 
 entertaining  doubts  of  his  faithfulness,  his  ability,  or  his  love; 
 but  rely  with  unshaken  confidence  and  composure  of  mind  upon 
 his  perfections  and  promises. 
 
 In  the  second  place,  our  text  forbids  to  fear  God  with  a  slavish 
 fear.  This  is  the  fear  which  the  devils  feel  who  believe  and 
 tremble.  It  is  the  fear  mentioned  by  the  apostle,  which,  he  says, 
 hath  torment,  and  which  perfect  love  casteth  out.  It  produces 
 what  St.  Paul  calls  a  spirit  of  bondage,  and  is  occasioned  an  1 
 maintained  by  looking  at  the  law  and  forgetting  the  gospel,  by 
 dwelling  upon  the  threatenings  and  overlooking  the  promises. 
 We  are  under  the  influence  of  this  fear,  when  we  serve  God  as 
 a  slave  serves  a  master,  before  whom  he  trembles,  and  not  as  a 
 child  serves  a  father  whom  he  loves,  and  in  whom  he  confides. 
 How  well  calculated  are  the  assurances,  to  which  we  have  been 
 attenduig,  to  banish  this  fear,  it  is  needless  to  remark. 
 
OF    HIS  CHUECH. 
 
 593 
 
 In  the  third  place,  the  passage  forbids  a  desponding,  pusillani- 
 mous fear  of  our  enemies,  a  fear  which  deters  us  from  performing 
 our  duty,  or  tempts  us  to  err,  or  prevents  us  from  making  suitable 
 exertions  to  work  out  our  salvation.  The  fear  of  man  bringeth 
 a  snare.  It  was  this  which  led  Peter  to  deny  his  Master.  It 
 has  in  times  of  persecution  destroyed  thousands ;  and  it  still 
 not  unfrequently  induces  the  professed  friends  of  Christ  to  act 
 as  if  they  were  ashamed  of  him.  It  is  this  which  often  pre- 
 vents us  from  warning  and  admonishing  our  brethren,  as  we 
 have  engaged  to  do.  In  this  particular,  many  are  much  influ- 
 enced by  the  fear  of  men,  who  perhaps  flatter  themselves  that 
 they  have  escaped  from  its  power.  They  do  not  indeed  fear  the 
 world.  They  are  not  ashamed  to  be  known  as  the  servants  of 
 Christ.  But  though  they  do  not  fear  the  world,  they  are  afraid 
 to  perform  their  duty  by  admonishing  them,  lest  they  should 
 give  offence.  My  brethren,  let  no  one  suppose  that  he  has  risen 
 above  the  fear  of  man,  until  he  finds  that  he  is  not  deterred  from 
 performing  his  duty  to  his  brethren  by  a  fear  of  offending  them. 
 To  deliver  us  from  this  kind  of  fear  in  all  its  various  forms,  the 
 assurances  given  in  our  text  are  most  admirably  adapted.  Its 
 language  in  effect  is,  Timid,  trembling  disciple,  why  dost  thou 
 fear.'  Is  not  thy  God  mighty  to  save  thee?  Is  he  not  ever  near 
 and  ready  to  save  thee?  Will  not  bis  love  prompt  him  to  shield 
 thee  from  all  thine  enemies'?  When  he  calls  upon  thee  to  per- 
 form any  duty  which  may  offend  thy  brethren,  or  any  of  thy 
 fellow  creatures,  mayest  thou  not  expect,  that  his  power  v  ill  be 
 exerted  either  to  make  thy  endeavors  successful,  or  to  prevent 
 those  who  may  be  offended  from  injuring  thee?  Why  then  art 
 thou  afraid  of  man  that  shall  die,  and  of  the  son  of  man  who 
 shall  be  cut  down  as  grass?  and  forgettest  the  Lord  thy  Maker, 
 ■who  stretched  out  the  heavens  and  laid  the  foundations  of  the 
 earth? 
 
 The  second  exhortation  here  addressed  to  the  church  is,  Let 
 not  thy  hands  be  slack.  Slackness  is  opposed  to  zeal  and  dili- 
 gence. He  becometh  poor,  says  the  royal  preacher,  who  dealeth 
 with  a  slack  hand;  but  the  hand  of  the  diligent  maketh  rich. 
 The  remark  is  no  less  applicable  to  our  spiritual,  than  to  our 
 temporal  concerns.  He  whose  hands  are  slack  in  the  sense  of 
 nur  text  will  never  be  rich  in  good  works,  will  never  be  an  emi- 
 r^nt  or  a  useful  Christian.    We  may  add,  that  slackness  or 
 
 VOL.  I.  75 
 
694 
 
 GOD    IN    THE  MIDST 
 
 indolence  is  the  principal  cause  why  so  few  Christians  are 
 eminently  pious  or  useful.  He  who  can  overcome  indolence, 
 will  overcome  all  his  other  spiritual  enemies;  but  he  who  does 
 not  overcome  indolence,  will  overcome  none  of  them.  Indolence 
 will  prevent  us  from  working  out  our  own  salvation  with  success, 
 and  it  will  still  more  effectually  prevent  us  from  effecting  the 
 salvation  of  others.  The  exhortation  in  our  text  is  directed 
 against  indolence  in  performing  both  these  duties,  and  the  gra- 
 cious assurances  connected  with  it  are  calculated  to  animate  and 
 encourage  their  performance.  What,  for  instance,  can  be  more 
 perfectly  adapted  to  animate  us  to  zeal  and  diligence  in  subduing 
 our  sins  and  making  advances  in  religion,  than  the  assurance 
 that  we  have  a  gracious,  affectionate  and  Almighty  helper, 
 always  present  and  ready  to  assist  us?  St.  Paul  makes  use  of 
 this  fact  to  animate  those  to  whom  he  wrote :  Work  out  your 
 salvation,  says  he,  for  God  worketh  in  you  to  will  and  to  do. 
 This  assurance  is,  one  would  think,  sufficient  to  make  the  most 
 fearful  bold,  and  the  most  indolent  active.  And  what  can  tend 
 more  powerfully  to  encourage  the  church  in  laboring  to  effect 
 the  extension  of  her  limits  and  the  salvation  of  sinners,  than 
 the  assurance  that  Jehovah,  the  mighty  God,  who  delighteth  to 
 save,  is  in  the  midst  of  her  to  crown  her  exertions  with  success? 
 Let  me  then  say  to  the  church  and  to  every  Christian  it  contains, 
 fear  thou  not  and  let  not  thy  hands  be  slack,  for  the  Lord  thy 
 God  in  the  midst  of  thee  is  mighty.  He  will  save,  he  will  rest 
 in  his  love,  he  will  rejoice  over  thee  with  joy,  he  Avill  joy  over 
 thee  with  singing. 
 
 A  few  inferences  will  conclude  the  discourse: 
 
 1.  We  may  remark,  in  view  of  this  subject,  that  all  the 
 doctrines  and  promises  of  God's  word,  and  all  the  gracious 
 assurances  of  his  love,  have  a  practical  tendency,  and  are  de- 
 signed to  produce  holy  zeal  and  activity.  For  instance,  in  the 
 passage  before  us,  God's  everlasting  love  to  his  people,  his 
 consequent  unalterable  determination  to  save  them,  his  power 
 to  execute  this  determination,  are  clearly  brought  into  view. 
 But  with  what  design  1  That  his  people  might  be  careless  and 
 indolent,  and  say,  Since  God  is  determined  to  save  us,  we  may 
 indulge  in  sin?  No,  but  that  they  be  excited  to  zeal  and  dili- 
 gence in  doing  good,  aii'l  working  out  their  salvation.  St.  Paul 
 makes  a  similar  use  of  the  divine  promises:  Having  therefore 
 
OF    HIS  CHURCH. 
 
 595 
 
 these  promises,  dearly  beloved,  let  us  cleanse  ourselves  from  all 
 fihhiness  of  the  flesh  and  spirit,  perfecting  holiness  in  the  fear 
 of  God.  If  God  has  chosen  us  in  Christ,  it  is  that  we  may  be 
 holy,  and  without  blame  before  him  in  love.  The  grace  of 
 God  which  bringeth  salvation  teaches  us,  that  denying  ungod- 
 liness, and  worldly  lusts,  we  should  live  soberly,  righteously, 
 and  godly,  in  this  present  world.  Hence, 
 
 2.  We  may  learn  whether  our  belief  of  the  divine  promises, 
 and  the  hopes  and  consolations  which  we  derive  from  them,  are 
 real  and  scriptural.  If  they  banish  sinful  fear,  despondency 
 and  indolence,  and  render  us  zealous  and  active  in  the  service 
 ■){  God,  they  are  certainly  genuine,  and  we  may  safely  receive 
 ^nd  enjoy  all  the  joys  and  consolations  which  have  this  effect. 
 But  if  any  doctrine  or  promise  of  Scripture,  any  confidence  in 
 God's  mercy,  or  any  hopes  or  consolations  which  we  experience, 
 render  us  careless  and  indolent  in  working  out  our  salvation,  or 
 «,ncourage  us  to  indulge  in  sin,  we  certainly  abuse  them.  Our 
 %ith  is  vam,  our  confidence  is  delusive,  our  hope  is  false,  and 
 ■our  joys  are  deceitful ;  for  such  conduct  makes  Christ  the  min- 
 ister of  sin,  and  turns  the  grace  of  God  into  licentiousness. 
 
 Finally :  Is  God,  my  Christian  friends,  in  the  midst  of  us, 
 resting  in  his  love  to  us,  and  rejoicing  over  us  with  joy?  Oh 
 then,  with  what  emotions  does  it  become  us  to  receive  and 
 embrace  him  !  With  what  profound  awe  and  reverence  should 
 we  contemplate  his  greatness !  How  should  we  admire  and 
 praise  him  for  his  condescension  !  With  what  firm  confidence 
 should  we  rest  in  his  love ;  with  vvhat  warm  affection  should  we 
 return  it,  and  how  should  we  joy  in  him  as  our  God,  and  rejoice 
 in  the  God  of  our  salvation  !  If  he  can  love  us,  surely  we 
 ought  much  more  to  love  him;  if  he  can  rejoice  over  us,  much 
 more  may  we  rejoice  in  him.  O  how  solemn,  how  delightful, 
 how  transforming  is  the  communion  between  God  and  his  people, 
 when  he  descends  in  all  the  plenitude  of  his  love,  mercy  and 
 grace  to  pour  himself  upon  them ;  to  shine  into  their  hearts 
 with  celestial  radiance,  and  fill  them  with  his  own  fulness; 
 while  they,  in  return,  ashamed  and  humbled  by  this  amazing 
 condescension,  and  filled  with  mingled  emotions  of  reverence, 
 shame,  gratitude,  wonder  and  love,  pour  out  their  souls  to  him 
 in  confessions  and  supplications,  and  then  rise,  with  renewed 
 strength,  to  praise  and  exult  and  rejoice  in  his  goodness !  May 
 
596 
 
 GOD    IN    THE    MIDST    OF    HIS  CHUUCH. 
 
 God  thus  meet  you ;  may  you  thus  meet  him  on  the  present 
 occasion.  Then  will  your  fellowship  indeed  be  with  the  Father, 
 and  with  his  Son  Jesus  Christ ;  and  the  sacramental  supper  will 
 he  a  pledge  and  a  foretaste  of  the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb 
 in  heaven. 
 
ADDRESS  TO  SEAMEN. 
 
 To  every  one,  who  possesses  a  particle  of  the  spirit  of  our 
 Saviour,  it  cannot  but  be  highly  gratifying  to  contemplate  the 
 gradual  expansion  of  Christian  benevolence; — the  wide,  and 
 still  wider  circle  of  objects,  which  it  has  progressively  extended 
 its  arms  to  embrace,  during  the  last  half  century.  At  the  com- 
 mencement of  this  period,  scarcely  a  solitary  individual  was 
 heard  to  raise  his  voice  in  favor  of  the  much  injured  and  ensla- 
 ved Africans.  Now  their  cause  is  pleaded  with  success  before 
 Parliaments  and  Senates;  and  powerful  States  make  it  an  object 
 of  attention  in  their  negotiations  with  foreign  powers.  Then, 
 excepting  in  this  country,  the  numerous  children  of  the  poor 
 were  left,  without  education  or  moral  instruction,  a  prey  to  igno- 
 rance and  to  every  species  of  vice.  Now,  in  many  parts  of  Eu- 
 rope, national  societies  are  formed,  and  schools  established  on  an 
 extensive  scale,  to  improve  at  once  their  morals  and  their  minds. 
 Then,  the  circulation  of  the  Scriptures  was  confined  within  com- 
 paratively narrow  limits;  and  of  tho.'jeby  whom  they  were  pos- 
 sessed, very  few  even  thought  of  sending  them  to  the  destitute. 
 Now,  thousands  of  hands  are  open  to  distribute,  and  tens  of  thou- 
 sands extended  to  receive  the  inestimable  gift.  Then,  the  relig- 
 ious interests  of  the  heathen  were  neglected.  Now,  the  heralds 
 of  the  cross  preach  to  them,  in  many  different  languages,  and  in 
 widely  distant  parts  of  the  Avorld,  "  the  unsearchable  riches  of 
 Christ."  Then,  no  provision  was  made  for  the  spiritual  wints 
 of  our  own  destitute  countrymen.  Now,  means  are  in  operation 
 to  furnish  them  with  able  and  faithful  religious  instructors 
 
598 
 
 ADDRESS    TO  SEAMEN. 
 
 Then,  the  descendants  of  Abraham  were  forgotten,  or  remem- 
 bered only  to  be  despised.  Now,  vigorous  and  widely-extended 
 efforts  are  made,  to  effect  their  conversion  to  Christianity. 
 Then  too,  mariners,  composing  a  numerous  and  highly  useful 
 class  of  citizens  in  every  commercial  country,  and  forming  a 
 kind  of  connecting  link  between  the  different  nations  and  parts 
 of  the  world,  were  left  to  suffer,  in  their  full  force,  all  those 
 moral  and  religious  privations  to  which  their  occupation  sub- 
 jects them ;  so  that  they  might,  with  very  few  exceptions,  have 
 exclaimed  : — We  are  men,  "  whom  no  one  seeketh  after,  no 
 man  careth  for  our  souls."  Not  only  Christian  nations,  but 
 Christian  individuals,  while  enjoying  the  foreign  productions 
 procured  for  them  by  the  toils  and  perils  of  their  seafaring 
 brethren,  seemed  to  forget  that  they  were  feasting  on  "  the  price 
 of  blood;"  the  blood  of  neglected  and  perishing  immortals. 
 
 But  to  this  long  neglected  class  of  society  also.  Christian  be- 
 nevolence now  extends  her  hand.  Now,  the  spire  of  "  the  Mar- 
 iner's Church  rises  in  the  midst  of  commercial  cities,  pointing 
 the  tempest-tossed  sons  of  ocean  to  a  haven  of  rest  above. 
 Now,  "  the  Bethel  Flag,"  under  which  seamen  and  landsmen 
 unite  to  worship  Him  who  governs  earth  and  sea,  waves  in  many 
 of  their  harbors.  Now,  Marine  Bible  Societies  are  formed ; 
 and  the  chest  of  every  sailor  may  contain,  if  he  will  accept  of 
 it,  that  inestimable  treasure,  the  Book  which  makes  men  "  wise 
 unto  salvation." 
 
 We  rejoice  to  see,  in  the  "Portland  Marine  Bible  Society,"  a 
 proof  that  this  recently  awakened  spirit  of  concern  for  the  relig- 
 ious interests  of  seamen  lives  and  breathes  among  ourselves. 
 We  rejoice,  my  seafaring  friends,  to  see  so  many  of  you  assem- 
 bled here,  on  this  occasion.  Most  cordially  do  we  bid  you  wel- 
 come, a  thousand  times  welcome  to  the  temple  of  Him,  who  is 
 no  less  your  God  than  ours.  Welcome,  welcome,  weary, 
 weather-beaten  sailor,  to  the  place  Avhere  rest  is  offered  to  the 
 weary  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ.  For  you  this  place  is  now 
 opened.  For  you  this  Bible  Society  was  formed.  For  you  this 
 meeting  was  appointed.  For  you  our  united  prayers  have  now 
 ascended  before  the  mercy  seat  of  Heaven.  You  it  is,  whom, 
 as  friends  and  brothers,  the  speaker  now  purposes  to  address. 
 
 And  why  does  he  address  you  ?  Why  have  we  invited  and 
 welcomed  you  here  this  evening  ?    Because  you  are  our  fellow- 
 
ADDRESS    TO  SEAMEN. 
 
 599 
 
 <.reatures,  our  fellow-immortals.  Because  you  are  our  shipmates 
 in  the  great  ship  of  this  world;  and  are  sailing  with  us  to  the 
 shores  of  eternity.  Because  you  have  something  within  you 
 which  thinks  and  feels;  and  that  something  is  an  immortal 
 soul ;  a  soul  worth  infinitely  more  than  all  the  merchandise 
 which  you  ever  assisted  in  conveying  cicross  the  seas ;  a  soul 
 worth  more  than  all  the  stars  which  twinkle  above  you,  while 
 keeping  your  evening  watch  on  deck  ;  a  soul  which  will  contin- 
 ue to  live,  and  to  be  happy  or  miserable,  when  all  those  stars 
 are  quenched  in  everlasting  night.  Yes,  mark  me,  ship-mates, 
 you  have,  each,  such  a  soul  within  you  ;  a  soul  dear  to  Him 
 who  made  it;  a  soul,  for  whose  salvation  Jesus  Christ  shed  his 
 blood ;  and  for  the  loss  of  which,  the  whole  world,  could  you 
 gain  it,  would  be  no  compensation.  This  precious  freight,  these 
 immortal  souls,  are  embarked  in  frail  vessels,  on  the  dangerous 
 voyage  of  life ;  a  voyage  which  you  are  even  now  pursuing, 
 and  which  will  terminate,  either  in  the  Port  of  Heaven,  or  in 
 the  Gulf  of  Perdition.  To  one  or  the  other  of  these  places  you 
 are  all  bound.  In  one  or  the  other  of  them,  you  will  all  land 
 at  death.  In  which  of  them  you  shall  land  will  depend  on  the 
 course  you  steer.  These  are  the  reasons  why  we  feel  concerned 
 for  you ;  why  we  address  you.  We  wish  you  to  steer  a  safe 
 course.  We  know  there  is  but  one  such  course.  We  wish  you 
 to  make  sure  of  a  good  harbor,  in  v/hich  you  may  rest  quietly 
 after  the  toilsome  voyage  of  life  is  ended.  We  know  there  is 
 but  one  such  harbor.  We  know  that  this  harbor  is  not  easy 
 to  find.  We  know  that  the  sea  over  which  you  sail  is  full  of 
 sunken  rocks  and  quicksands,  on  which  many  a  brother  sailor 
 has  made  shipwreck  of  his  soul.  Your  voyage  is,  therefore, 
 exceedingly  dangerous.  We  meet  you  pursuing  this  voyage 
 and  wish  to  speak  you.  When  you  speak  a  vessel,  one  of  the 
 first  questions  you  ask  her  is,  "Where  are  you  bound?"  Allow 
 me  to  ask  the  same  que.stion. 
 
 Ho,  there,  creature  of  God,  immortal  spirit,  voyager  to  Eter- 
 nity!  whither  art  thou  bound?  Heard  I  the  answer  aright? 
 Was  it,  "  I  don't  know !"  Not  know  where  you  are  bound! 
 Heard  you  ever  such  an  answer  to  this  question  before? 
 Should  you  hear  such  an  answer  from  a  spoken  vessel,  would 
 you  not  conclude  its  crew  to  be  either  drunk  or  mad?  and 
 would  you  not  soon  expect  to  hear  of  its  loss?    Not  know 
 
600 
 
 ADDRESS    TO  SEAMEN. 
 
 Where  you  are  bound  !  And  have  you  then,  for  so  many  years, 
 been  beating  about  in  the  fogs  of  ignorance  and  uncertainty ; 
 with  no  port  in  view  ;  the  sport  of  storms  and  currents  ;  driven 
 hither  and  thither  as  the  winds  change,  without  any  hope  of 
 ever  making  a  harbor,  and  liable,  every  moment,  to  strike  upon 
 a  lee  shore?  Not  know  where  you  are  bound !  Alas,  then,  I 
 fear  you  are  bound  to  the  Gulf  of  Perdition ;  and  that  you  will 
 be  driven  on  the  rocks  of  Despair,  which  are  now  right  ahead 
 of  you,  and  which,  sooner  or  later,  bring  up  all,  who  know  not 
 where  they  are  bound,  and  who  care  not  what  course  they  steer. 
 If  I  have  taken  my  observation  correctly,  you  are  in  the  Lee 
 Current,  which  sets  directly  into  a  Gulf  where  you  will  find  no 
 bottom  with  a  thousand  fathoms  of  hne.  Not  know  where  you 
 are  bound !  You  must  then  be  in  distress.  You  have  either 
 unshipped  your  rudder,  or  you  have  no  compass,  chart,  or 
 quadrant  on  board ;  nor  any  pilot  who  can  carry  you  into  the 
 port  of  Heaven. 
 
 And  what  pilot,  you  will  perhaps  ask  in  reply,  can  carry  us 
 there  1  Who  can  tell  us,  with  certainty,  that  there  is  any  such 
 port  ?  On  what  chart  is  it  laid  down  7  And  how  do  we  know, 
 — how  do  you  know, — how  can  any  man  know,  that  what  you 
 have  now  told  us  is  true  ? 
 
 These  are  fair  questions,  shipmates,  and  you  shall  have  an 
 answer;  but  allow  me,  first  to  ask  you  a  few  questions.  Should 
 you  see  a  fine  ship,  well  built,  handsomely  rigged,  and  com- 
 pletely equipped  for  a  voyage,  could  any  man  make  you  believe 
 that  she  built  herself?  or  that  she  was  built  by  chance  ?  or 
 that  she  sprung,  like  a  bubble,  out  of  the  sea?  Would  you  not 
 feel  as  certain,  that  she  was  the  work  of  some  builder,  as  if  you 
 had  stood  by,  and  seen  him  shape  every  timber,  and  drive  every 
 bolt?  And  can  you,  then,  believe,  that  this  great  ship,  the 
 world,  built  itself?  or  that  it  was  buih  by  chance?  or  that  it 
 sprung  out  of  nothing  without  any  cause?  Do  you  not  feel  as 
 certain,  that  it  was  made  by  some  great,  and  wise,  and  power- 
 ful builder,  as  if  you  had  stood  by  and  seen  him  make  it  ?  Yes, 
 you  will  say,  every  ship  is  built  by  some  man  ;  but  he  that 
 built  all  things  must  be  more  than  man  ;  he  must  be  God. 
 
 Another  question.  Should  you  see  a  vessel  go  every  year, 
 for  many  years  successively  to  a  distant  port,  and  return  at  a 
 set  time ;  performing  all  her  voyages  with  perfect  regularity, 
 
ADDRESS    TO  SEAMEN. 
 
 601 
 
 and  never  going  a  cable's  length  out  of  her  course,  nor  being  a 
 day  out  of  her  time,  could  you  be  made  to  believe  that  she  had 
 no  commander,  pilot,  or  helmsman  on  board  ;  that  she  went  and 
 came  of  her  own  accord  ;  or  that  she  had  nothing  to  steer  her 
 but  the  wind  ?  Would  you  have  any  more  doubt  that  she  was 
 under  the  command  of  some  skilful  navigator,  than  if  you  were 
 on  board,  and  saw  him  ?  Look  then,  once  more,  at  this  great 
 ship,  the  world.  See  how  regularly  she  makes  her  annual  voy- 
 age round  the  sun,  without  ever  getting  out  of  her  course,  or 
 being  a  day  out  of  her  time.  Should  she  gain  or  lose  a  sin- 
 gle day  in  making  this  voyage,  what  would  all  your  nau- 
 tical Tables  be  good  for  ?  Now,  would  she  go  and  come  with 
 such  perfect  regularity  and  exactness  of  her  own  accord  7  or 
 with  no  one  to  regulate  her  course?  Can  you  any  more  doubt 
 that  she  is  under  the  direction  of  some  skilful  commander,  than 
 if  you  saw  him  regulating  all  her  motions?  But  if  the  world 
 has  a  pilot,  a  commander,  who  is  he  ?  Ay,  shipmates,  who  is 
 he  ?  Is  it  any  of  her  crew  ?  You  know,  that  if  they  should 
 all  unite  their  strength,  they  could  neither  move  her,  nor  alter 
 her  course  a  hair's  breadth.  Who  then  can  it  be  1  But  why 
 need  I  ask  1  Who  can  regulate  all  the  motions  of  the  world, 
 except  He  that  made  the  world  ?  And  remember,  shipmates,  if 
 God  is  here  to  regulate  her  course,  he  must  be  here  to  see  how 
 the  crew  behave. 
 
 Once  more.  Would  a  wise  owner  put  a  crew  on  board  a  ves- 
 sel, and  send  her  to  sea,  bound  on  a  long  voyage,  without  a 
 compass,  chart,  quadrant,  or  pilot,  to  be  driven  just  where  the 
 winds  and  waves  might  carry  her,  till  she  foundered,  or  went  to 
 pieces  on  some  rocky  shore?  No,  you  reply,  no  wise  owner,  no 
 man,  that  cared  any  thing  either  for  the  ship  or  the  ship's  com- 
 pany, would  act  in  this  manner.  And  would  the  good,  the  all- 
 wise  God  then,  who  made  the  world,  and  placed  us  in  it,  act  in 
 such  manner  ?  Certainly  not.  It  would  be  insulting  him  to 
 think  so.  You  may  be  certain,  therefore,  that  he  has  taken  care 
 to  provide  a  safe  harbor,  in  which,  when  the  voyage  of  life  is 
 ended,  we  may  ride  secure  from  every  danger;  that  he  has  fur- 
 nished us  with  every  thing  necessary  to  assist  us  in  shaping  our 
 course  for  that  harbor  ;  and  that  he  has  provided  a  skilful  pilot, 
 who  will  carry  us  into  it,  if  we  put  ourselves  under  his  care. 
 And.  shipmates,  we  can  tell  you,  for  God  has  told  us,  that  he 
 
 VOL.  I.  76 
 
602 
 
 ADDKESS    TO  SEAMEN. 
 
 actually  has  done  all  this.  As  a  harbor,  he  has  prepared  heav- 
 en for  us  ;  a  place  so  glorious,  that  the  sun  is  not  fit  to  be  a  lamp 
 in  it.  Could  you  grasp  the  world  like  an  orange,  and  squeeze 
 all  the  happiness  it  affords  into  a  single  cup,  it  would  be  nothmg 
 to  one  drop  of  the  waters  of  life,  which  flow  there  like  a  river. 
 For  a  commander  and  pilot,  he  has  given  us  his  own  Son,  Jesus 
 Christ,  the  Captain  of  salvation;  beyond  all  comparison  the 
 most  skilful,  kind,  and  careful  commander,  that  ever  seaman 
 sailed  under.  He  can  carry  you,  and  he  alone  can  carry  you 
 safely  into  the  Port  of  Heaven.  No  soul  ever  found  its  way  in- 
 to that  port  without  him.  No  soul  which  put  itself  under  his 
 care,  was  ever  lost.  Finally,  for  a  compass,  chart,  and  quad- 
 rant, God  has  given  us  the  Bible ;  and  most  completely  does  it 
 answer  the  purpose  of  all  three.  By  this  book,  as  a  compass, 
 you  may  shape  your  course  correctly ;  for  it  will  always  traverse 
 freely,  and  it  has  no  variation.  By  this  book,  as  a  quadrant, 
 you  may  at  any  time,  by  night  or  by  day,  take  an  observation, 
 and  find  out  exactly  where  you  are.  And  in  this  book,  as  on  a 
 chart,  not  only  the  Port  of  Heaven,  but  your  whole  course,  with 
 every  rock,  shoal,  and  breaker,  on  which  you  can  possibly  strike, 
 is  most  accurately  laid  down.  If  then,  you  make  a  proper  use 
 of  this  book,  mind  your  helm,  keep  a  good  look  out,  and  care- 
 fully observe  your  pilot's  directions,  you  will  without  fail  make 
 a  prosperous  voyage,  and  reach  the  Port  of  Heaven  in  safety. 
 It  may  not,  however,  be  amiss,  to  give  a  few  hints  respecting 
 the  first  part  of  your  course. 
 
 If  you  examine  your  chart  you  will  find  put  down,  not  far 
 from  the  latitude  in  which  you  now  are,  a  most  dangerous  rock, 
 called  the  Rock  of  Intemperance,  or  Drunkard's  Rock.  This 
 rock,  on  which  there  is  a  high  beacon,  is  almost  white  with  the 
 bones  of  poor  sailors  who  have  been  cast  away  upon  it.  You 
 must  be  careful  to  give  this  rock  a  good  berth,  for  there  is  a  very 
 strong  current  setting  towards  it.  If  you  once  get  into  that 
 current  you  will  find  it  very  difficult  getting  out  again  ;  and  will 
 be  almost  sure  to  strike  and  go  to  pieces.  You  will  often  find  a 
 parcel  of  wreckers  round  this  rock,  who  will  try  to  persuade  you 
 that  it  is  not  dangerous,  and  that  there  is  no  current.  But  take 
 care  how  you  believe  them.    Their  only  object  is  plunder. 
 
 Not  far  from  this  terrible  rock,  you  will  find  marked,  a  whirl- 
 pool, almost  equally  dangerous,  called  ihe  whirlpool  of  Bad 
 
ADDRESS    TO    SEAMEN.  603 
 
 Company.  Indeed  this  whirlpool  often  throws  vessels  upon 
 Drunkard's  Rock,  as  it  hurries  them  round.  It  lies  just  outside 
 the  Gulf  of  Perdition  ;  and  every  thing  which  it  swallows  up  is 
 thrown  into  that  Gulf.  It  is  surrounded  by  several  httle  eddies, 
 which  often  draw  mariners  into  it  before  they  know  where  they 
 are.  Keep  a  good  look  out  then  for  these  eddies,  and  steer  wide 
 of  this  whirlpool ;  for  it  has  swallowed  up  more  sailors  than 
 ever  the  sea  did.    In  fact,  it  is  a  complete  Hell  Gate. 
 
 Besides  this  whirlpool  and  rock,  there  are  several  shoals  laid 
 down  in  your  chart,  which  I  cannot  now  stay  to  describe. 
 Indeed  these  seas  are  full  of  them,  which  makes  sailing  here 
 extremely  dangerous.  If  you  would  be  sure  to  shun  them  all 
 and  to  keep  clear  of  the  terrible  gulf  already  mentioned,  you 
 must  immediately  go  about,  make  a  signal  for  a  pilot,  and  steer 
 for  the  Straits  of  Repentance,  which  you  will  see  right  ahead. 
 These  Straits,  which  are  very  narrow,  form  the  only  passage 
 out  of  the  dangerous  seas  you  have  been  navigating,  into  the 
 great  Pacific  Ocean,  sometimes  called  the  Safe  Sea,  or  Sea  of 
 Salvation,  on  the  further  shore  of  which  lies  your  port.  It  is 
 not  very  pleasant  passing  these  Straits;  and  therefore  many 
 navigators  have  tried  hard  to  find  another  passage.  Indeed, 
 some  who  pretend  to  be  pilots,  will  tell  you  there  is  another ;  but 
 they  are  wrong ;  for  the  great  Master  Pilot  himself  has  declared 
 that  every  one  who  does  not  pass  the  Straits  of  Repentance  will 
 certainly  be  lost. 
 
 As  you  pass  the.se  Straits,  the  spacious  Bay  of  Faith  will  be- 
 gin to  open,  on  the  right  hand  side  of  which  you  will  see  a  high 
 hill,  called  Mount  Calvary.  On  the  top  of  this  hill  stands  a 
 Light-House,  in  the  form  of  a  cross ;  which,  by  night,  is  com- 
 pletely illumined  from  top  to  bottom,  and  by  day,  sends  up  a 
 pillar  of  smoke,  like  a  white  cloud.  It  stands  so  high,  that, 
 unless  you  deviate  from  the  course  laid  down  in  your  chart, 
 you  will  never  lose  sight  of  it  in  any  succeeding  part  of  your 
 voyage.  At  the  foot  of  this  Light-House  you  will  find  the  Pilot 
 I  have  so  often  mentioned,  waiting  for  you.  You  must  by  all 
 means  receive  him  on  board;  for  without  Him,  neither  your 
 own  exertions,  nor  all  the  charts  and  pilots  in  the  world  can 
 preserve  you  from  fatal  shipwreck. 
 
 As  you  enter  the  Bay  of  Faith,  you  will  see,  far  ahead,  like  a 
 white  cloud  in  the  horizon,  the  high  lands  of  Hope,  which  lie 
 
604 
 
 ADDRESS    TO  SEAMEN. 
 
 hard  by  your  port  These  lands  are  so  high,  that  when  the  air 
 is  clear,  you  will  have  them  constantly  in  sight  during  the 
 remainder  of  your  voyage ;  and  while  they  are  in  sight,  you 
 may  be  sure  of  always  finding  good  anchoring  ground,  and  of 
 safely  riding  out  every  storm. 
 
 I  might  proceed  to  describe  the  remainder  of  your  course,  but 
 it  is  needless ;  for  you  will  find  it  all  in  your  chart,  the  Bible. 
 With  this  chart,  the  society  which  invited  you  here  this  even- 
 ing, are  ready  to  furnish  every  destitute  seaman;  and  they  do 
 it  on  purpose  that  your  voyage  may  be  prosperous,  and  its  ter- 
 mination happy.  And  now,  shipmates,  let  me  ask  you  one 
 question  more.  Should  a  ship's  crew,  bound  on  a  long  and 
 dangerous  voyage,  refuse  to  provide  themselves  with  either 
 quadrant,  chart,  or  compass: — or,  being  furnished  by  their 
 owner  with  these  articles,  should  stow  them  away  in  the  hold, 
 and  never  use  them,  never  mind  their  helm,  keep  no  look  out, 
 pay  no  regard  to  their  pilot's  directions,  but  spend  their  time  in 
 drinking  and  carousing ;  have  you  any  doubt  that  they  would 
 be  lost,  before  their  voyage  was  half  over?  And  when  you 
 heard  that  they  were  lost,  would  you  not  say, — It  is  just  as  I 
 expected ;  but  they  have  no  one  to  blame  except  themselves  1 
 Just  so,  my  dear  shipmates,  if  you  refuse  to  receive  the  Bible, 
 the  book  which  your  Maker  and  owner  has  given,  to  assist  in 
 shaping  your  course ; — or  if  you  lay  this  book  aside  in  your 
 chests,  and  never  study  it ; — or  if  you  study  it,  and  do  not 
 shape  your  course  by  it,  nor  pay  any  regard  to  the  directions  of 
 Jesus  Christ,  your  commander  and  pilot ;  but  make  your  only 
 object  to  live  an  easy,  careless,  merry  life ;  be  assured  that  you 
 will  make  shipwreck  of  your  souls,  and  fouuder  in  that  gulf 
 which  has  no  bottom  ;  and  while  you  feel  that  you  are  lost,  lost, 
 lost  for  ever,  you  will  also  feel  that  you  have  no  one  to  blame 
 for  it  but  yourselves.  You  cannot  blame  God,  your  Creator  and 
 Owner ;  for  he  has  kindly  given  you  his  only  Son  to  be  your 
 pilot,  and  his  Book  to  be  your  chart.  You  cannot  blame  your 
 fellow-creatures ;  for,  by  the  hands  of  this  Society,  they  now 
 offer  you  this  book,  "  Avithout  money  and  without  price."  You 
 cannot  blame  the  speaker  ;  for  he  has  now  told  you  what  will 
 be  the  consequence  of  neglecting  this  book.  O,  then,  be  persua- 
 ded to  receive  it,  to  study  it,  and  to  shape  your  course  by  it. 
 Become  yourselves  members  of  this  Bible  Society,  and  persuade 
 
ADDRESS    TO  SEAMEN. 
 
 605 
 
 your  comrades  to  do  the  same.  Wherever  you  see  the  Bethel 
 Flag  hoisted,  rally  round  it.  As  often  as  you  have  an  opportu- 
 nity, visit  the  house  of  God  on  the  Sabbath,  to  hear  what  Jesus 
 Christ  has  done  for  poor  Seamen.  If  you  see  a  brother  sailor 
 becalmed  by  the  way,  or  steering  another  course,  lend  him  a 
 hand,  and  take  him  with  you.  Whenever  you  are  keeping 
 your  evening  watch  on  deck,  look  up,  and  see  the  God  of  whom 
 you  have  now  heard — the  God  whose  name,  I  fear,  some  of 
 you  "  take  in  vain,"  throned  in  awful  silence,  and  darkness,  and 
 majesty,  on  the  sky,  crowned  with  a  diadem  of  ten  thousand 
 stars,  holding  the  winds  and  thunderbolts  in  his  hand,  and  set- 
 ting one  foot  on  the  sea,  and  the  other  on  the  land,  while  both 
 land  and  sea  obey  his  word,  and  tremble  at  his  nod.  This, 
 shipmates,  is  the  God  under  whom  we  wish  you  to  enlist,  and 
 to  whom  we  wish  you  to  pray.  This  is  the  God  who  now  offers 
 to  be  the  poor  sailor's  friend;  and  who,  in  all  your  voyages,  can 
 carry  you  out  in  safety,  and  bring  you  home  in  peace.  This 
 too,  is  the  God  whom  we  shall  all  one  day  see  coming  in  the 
 clouds  of  Heaven  with  power  and  great  glory,  to  judge  the 
 world.  Then,  at  his  command,  the  earth  and  the  sea  shall  give 
 up  all  who  had  been  buried  in  the  former  or  sunk  in  the  latter, 
 and  they  shall  stand  together  before  God  to  be  rewarded  accord- 
 ing to  their  works.  O  then,  seamen,  landsmen,  whoever  you 
 are  that  hear,  prepare,  prepare  for  this  great  day.  Yes,  prepare, 
 ye  accountable  creature,  prepare  to  meet  your  God ;  for  he  has 
 said.  Behold  I  come,  I  come  near  to  judgment !  And  hath  he 
 said  it,  and  shall  he  not  do  it  ?  Hath  He  spoken,  and  shall  he 
 not  make  it  good  1  Yes,  when  His  appointed  hour  shall  arrive, 
 a  mighty  angel  will  lift  his  hand  to  Heaven,  and  swear  by  Him 
 who  liveth  for  ever  and  ever,  that  there  shall  be  time  no  longer. 
 Then  our  world,  impetuously  driven  by  the  last  tempest,  will 
 strike,  and  be  dashed  in  pieces  on  the  shores  of  eternity.  Hark! 
 what  a  crash  was  there  !  One  groan  of  unutterable  anguish, 
 one  loud  shriek  of  consternation  and  despair  is  heard,  and  all  is 
 still.  Not  a  fragment  of  the  wreck  remains  to  which  the  strug- 
 gling wretches  might  cling  for  support ;  but  down,  down,  down 
 they  sink,  whelmed  deep  beneath  the  billows  of  almighty 
 wrath.  But  see  !  something  appears  at  a  distance  mounting 
 above  the  waves,  and  neaping  the  shore.  It  is  the  Ark  of  sal- 
 vation !    It  is  the  Life  Boat  of  Heaven  !    It  has  weathered  the 
 
606 
 
 ADDRESS     TO  SEAMEN. 
 
 last  Storm  ;  it  enters  the  harbor  triumphantly  ;  Heaven  resounds 
 with  the  acclamations  of  its  grateful,  happy  crew  !  Among 
 them,  may  you  all,  shipmates,  be  found.  May  the  members  ot 
 this  Society,  believing  and  obeying,  as  well  as  distributing  the 
 Scriptures,  save  both  themselves  and  the  objects  of  their  care. 
 And  may  every  perishing  immortal  in  this  assembly,  now,  while 
 the  Ark  is  open,  while  the  Life  Boat  waits,  while  the  rope  of 
 mercy  is  thrown  within  his  grasp,  seize  it,  and  make  eternal  life 
 his  own ! 
 
23B5TC  .,  ]01J 
 
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