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 ALUMNI LIBRARY, 
 
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 LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 Theological Seminary, 
 
 PRINCETON, N. J. 
 
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 c BX 9225 .G826 S67 1838 
 
 Sprague, William Buell, 179 
 
 «' -1876. 
 
 Memoir of the Rev. Edward D 
 GrifJEin. D.D . 
 
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MEMOIR 
 
 Ret. EDWARD D. GRIFFIN, D.D 
 
 COMPILED CHIEFLY FROM HIS OWN WRITINGS. 
 
 ^: 
 
 By WILLIAM B. SPRAGUE, D.D. 
 
 MINISTER OF THE SECOND PRESBYTERIAN CONGREGATION IN ALBANY. 
 
 ALBANY : 
 
 PRINTED BY 'PACKARD, VAN BENTHUYSEN & CO. 
 1838. 
 
[Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1838, by Halsted & 
 VooRHEEs, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the Southern Dis- 
 trict of New-York.] 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Previous to his settlement at New-Hartford, 1 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 His residence at New-Hartford, 11 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 His first residence at Newark, 55 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 His residence at Andover and Boston, 98 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 His second residence at Newaik, 137 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 His residence at Williamstown, 142 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 His last residence at Newark, and his death, 21 i 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 General estimate of his character and influence, . 247 
 
MEMOIR OF REV. DOCTOR GRIFFIN, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 FROM HIS BIRTH TO THE TIME OF HIS SETTLEMENT AT 
 NEW-HARTFORD. 
 
 Edward Dorr Griffin was born at East Had- 
 dam, Connecticut, January 6, 1770. His father 
 was George Griffin, a wealthy farmer, a man of 
 a vigorous intellect, of great enterprise, and of a 
 superior education for a common one of that day. 
 His mother was Eve Dorr, of Lyme, and is said 
 to have been distinguished for her lovely and en- 
 gaging qualities. She belonged to a family strongly 
 marked by good sense, and extensively known in 
 the civil history both of the state and nation.* He 
 had two brothers, (Col. Josiah Griffin, of East 
 Haddam, and George Griffin, Esq. an eminent 
 lawyer of the city of New-York,) and five sisters, 
 all of whom were married. He was named after 
 
 • Her mother was a sister of the first Governor Griswold. 
 Vol. I. 1 
 
PREVIOUS TO HIS 
 
 his uncle, the Reverend Edward Dorr, of Hart- 
 ford, and was, in the intention of his parents, de- 
 voted to the ministry from his birth ; a circumstance 
 which was certainly somewhat singular, as neither 
 of his parents at that time made any pretensions to 
 piety. His uncle, who married a daughter of Go- 
 vernor Talcott, but had no children, would pro- 
 bably have educated him if he had lived, but he was 
 removed during his nephew's infancy. 
 
 As he was intended for the ministry, and withal 
 was incapacitated by bodily indisposition to labour 
 much upon the farm, he was kept almost constantly 
 at school up to the time of his entering college. 
 His preparatory studies were chiefly under the Re- 
 verend Joseph Vaill, of Hadlyme, towards whom 
 he continued till the close of life to cherish the 
 most grateful and filial veneration. 
 
 In September, J786, he became a member of 
 Yale College. Here he distinguished himself in 
 every department of study, and gave unequivocal 
 indications of a commanding and splendid intellect. 
 He graduated with the highest honors of his class, 
 m 1790. 
 
 While he was at home during one of his college 
 vacations, a circumstance occurred by means of 
 which he had well nigh lost his life. His father had 
 a fine young horse, whose spirit no one had been 
 able to subdue. Edward mounted him, rode him for 
 several hours, and returned in high spirits, declaring 
 that he would have him for his Bucephalus. Short- 
 ly after he mounted him a second time, upon which 
 the horse instantly stood erect upon his hind feet, 
 
SETTLEMENT AT NEW-HARTFORD. 6 
 
 and fell backwards upon Edward with his whole 
 weight. When he was taken up, all signs of ani- 
 mation had fled, and his friends for some time sup- 
 posed that the vital principle was gone. By the 
 blessing of God, however, upon the vigorous appli- 
 cations that were made to his body, he gradually 
 revived, and at no distant period was able to return 
 to college and prosecute his studies with his accus- 
 tomed alacrity. 
 
 The following account of the commencement and 
 progress of his religious impressions is extracted 
 from some brief recollections of his early life, which 
 he committed to writing but a short time previous 
 to his death. 
 
 I had religious impressions occasionally from my earliest 
 childhood. When I was quite young, certainly not more than 
 four or five years old, one of my companions, a little older than 
 myself, told me, while in the fields, about death and a future 
 state. I remember 1 was deeply affected. My mother after- 
 wards informed me that I came home weeping, and asked her 
 about these things, and appeared not to get over it all day. 
 In later life I have often been affected at the condescension of 
 Him who frequently visited a poor, ignorant, wicked child, and 
 forced him into the secret corner to pray. I remember some 
 instances in which my prayers were so earnest that I thought 
 I should prevail, and was determined to take the kingdom of 
 heaven by violence. Once in a time of sickness, my distress 
 of mind was succeeded by a hope ; but it was full of self- 
 righteousness, saying toothers, "Stand by thyself, I am holier 
 than thou." I remember that, in looking around among those 
 I knew, I could see none whom I would allow to be christians. 
 They all fell short of the standard which I had erected. With 
 all these motions of conscience, I know not that any person 
 supposed that I was other than a thoughtless, light and play- 
 ful child. 
 
4 PREVIOUS TO HIS 
 
 I went to college in hope of being fitted for the ministry. 
 I not unfrequently attended the Saturday evening prayer 
 meeting, and found my conscience affected by it. I used to 
 calculate that if I were not converted while in college, I should 
 probably die in my sins, I always shrunk with horror at the 
 idea of going into the ministry without religion. If then I 
 should not be a christian when I graduated, I should study 
 law ; and the temptations of that life and society would carry 
 me farther and farther from God, and in all probability would 
 seal my ruin. Thus I calculated. Still I remained un- 
 changed. When I entered my senior year, 1 thought it was 
 high time to fix on my future course ; and as God had not 
 changed my heart, I said to myself, " "W hat should I wait for 
 the Lord any longer?" (2 Kings vi. 33.) and devoted myself 
 to the law. For nearly two years I threw off the restraints of 
 conscience, and made up my mind to be a man of the world ; 
 but my habits and sense of propriety kept me from vicious 
 courses. 
 
 After I graduated, I engaged as principal of an academy at 
 Derby, about ten miles west of New-Haven, where I spent 
 nine of the gayest months of my life. In July, 1791, I was 
 taken sick. The thought which I had frequently had before 
 in sickness returned upon me with greater power : " If I can- 
 not bear this for a short time, how can I bear the pains of hell 
 forever ?" I have no distinct recollection of the exercises which 
 accompanied this uneasiness. I can only say that I found 
 myself resolved to lead a different life, and to devote myself to 
 the service of God. I had often formed such a resolution, but 
 this seemed to be more deep and real than any which I had 
 formed before. That was all I knew about myself. After 
 my recovery, these thoughts continued and increased ; but it 
 was two or three months before I durst conclude that I was a 
 child of God. Still the thought of changing my profession 
 never entered my mind. I have often wondered how this 
 could be ; but I believe it arose from a natural fixedness of 
 purpose, which renders it difficult for me to change. One 
 Sabbath, in the course of that fall, my mind was strangely 
 
SETTLEMENT AT NEW-HARTFORD. 6 
 
 tried throughout the day with occasional thoughts about my 
 future course as a lawyer, — the wide separation from domestic 
 friends it would occasion, &,c. The course appeared more 
 fraught with trials than ever it had done before. Still not a 
 thought of change once crossed my mind, any more than 
 thougli there had been but one profession. After the second 
 service I returned to my lodgings, and taking a small Bible 
 and putting it under my arm, started for my chamber. A 
 stray thought, as I passed through the room, occurred to me — 
 "I have seen ministers carry a Bible thus to the meeting- 
 house." The question instantly came back upon me — "And 
 why should not you be a minister ?" It made no impression. 
 "And why should not you be a minister ?" Still I turned it off, 
 "And why should not you be a minister?" By the time I had 
 reached the top of the stairs, this question had been thrown 
 back upon me so often, and seemingly by another, that I was 
 brought to a solemn resolution to examine it seriously. I had 
 little christian experience or knowledge, and probably was 
 presumptuous in looking for guidance to the passages to which 
 I should open : but so it was. I prayed most earnestly that 
 God would reveal my duty by the portion of scripture to which 
 he should direct me, and then opened the Bible and read. I 
 did this several times, and every time opened to something 
 which seemed, at least to my imagination, in favor of the 
 change. I turned then to the thing itself I had not gone 
 too far to change. That was the time of life for me to choose 
 a profession. 1 had finished my academical education. I 
 hoped I possessed religion : I had looked forward to the mi- 
 nistry in case I should obtain that qualification, though of late 
 I had wholly lost sight of the object. Why should I not return 
 to it ? I was afraid I was tempting God by asking for direction 
 in the way I did : but I ventured to entreat him to guide me 
 again, and I would ask but that once ; and I opened to Christ's 
 sermon on the mount. Instantly the whole character of Christ 
 as a preacher opened to my view. There had never been but 
 one perfect example : And how did he spend his time in his 
 passage through this world ? Not in contending who should 
 
6 PREVIOUS TO HIS 
 
 have that flock of sheep or that piece of ground, hut in preach- 
 ing the everlasting gospel and plucking souls as brands from 
 the burnings. My mind was settled at once. From the time 
 the thought had first occurred to me, till my purpose was as 
 fixed as it ever has been since, was not more than half or three 
 quarters of an hour. I had been habituated, with my proud 
 heart, to pour contempt on the ministry ; and it presented itself 
 before me, at that moment, as "the loss of all things." I had 
 been accustomed, with my vain mind, to anticipate the highest 
 civil honors in the profession of the law. The disappointment 
 which I should bring to friends by this rehnquishment, stood 
 full before me. And yet with all this sacrifice on the one hand, 
 and all this contempt on the other, I chose to be a minister. 
 I hugged the cross. And though the age of missions had not 
 yet dawned, I well remember that, in Dr. Craft's chamber, 
 that memorable afternoon, I felt that I should be willing to 
 spend my days among the pagans of the wilderness, if such 
 should be the will of God. 
 
 Shortly after this he commenced his theological 
 studies under the direction of the Reverend Dr. 
 Jonathan Edwards of New-Haven, afterwards 
 President of Union College. While attending to 
 his duties as an instructor, he pursued the course of 
 reading which Dr. Edwards pointed out, and wrote 
 extensively on his system of theological questions. 
 
 In the spring of 1792 he joined the congregational 
 church at Derby, and soon after left the academy 
 and returned to East-Haddam, where he had the 
 smallpox. That disorder having left his eyes weak, 
 he spent part of the summer at his father's house. 
 Here he found himself in peculiarly trying circum- 
 stances. He was the only professor of religion in 
 a family of ten ; and neither his regard for his rela- 
 tives, nor his convictions of duty, would suffer him 
 
SETTLEMENT AT NEW-HARTFORD, 7 
 
 to remain silent upon what was with himself tlie 
 all-engrossing subject. He conversed with them 
 earnestly and affectionately, beseeching them with 
 tears to attend to the things that belonged to their 
 peace; and the event proved that his labors and 
 struggles in their behalf were not in vain. Nor was 
 his influence confined to his own family; for he 
 statedly attended a prayer meeting in the neighbor- 
 hood, at which those who were much older in the 
 christian life than himself found themselves at once 
 quickened and edified by his fervent prayers and 
 thrilling addresses. 
 
 The latter part of the summer and most of the 
 autumn he passed at New-Haven, completing his 
 theological studies. He was licensed to preach, by 
 the West Association of New-Haven County, on 
 the last day of October. Early in November he 
 returned to his father's house, and on the evening 
 of the next day accompanied his youngest sister to 
 a prayer meeting at the place where he had been 
 accustomed to attend. When she left the meetino- 
 she took his arm, and burst into tears, saying, " The 
 singing of those christians convinces me that they 
 have something which I want." That, as he after- 
 wards declared, was to him a moment of great tri- 
 umph. When they arrived at home, his father's 
 family, and his brother's family in the neighbor- 
 hood, were made acquainted with the fact ; and 
 while his sister lay weeping in anguish of spirit, 
 he was making his appeals to those around him. 
 " That," said he, " was the beginning of American 
 revivals, so far as they fell under my personal ob- 
 
PREVIOUS TO HIS 
 
 servation ; and from that moment I know they have 
 never ceased." His youngest sister, his mother, 
 his brother's wife, and several others of the family 
 were brought to hope in God's forgiving mercy ; 
 and before any breach was made in the domestic 
 circle, all were members of the church but two. 
 
 His first sermon was preached November 10, 
 1792, at Hadlyme, in the pulpit of his venerable 
 friend under whose tuition he had been fitted for 
 college. In January succeeding he commenced his 
 labors at New-Salem, a small village about seven 
 miles from his father's house, and continued there 
 till the last of May. His preaching was almost 
 immediately attended by manifest tokens of the 
 presence of the Holy Spirit. A revival of great 
 power commenced, and a church was gathered 
 where there had not been one for more than forty 
 years. In New-Salem, and the parts of East Had- 
 dam and Lyme adjacent to it, about one hundred 
 were hopefully added to the Lord. 
 
 In the early part of June, 1793, he commenced 
 preaching at Farmington as a candidate for settle- 
 ment. The manner in which he was there received, 
 and the circumstances which prevented his becom- 
 ing the pastor of the church, may be seen from the 
 following extract of a letter from the Rev. Noah 
 Porter, D. D. then a member, now the minister, of 
 the congregation to which Mr. Griffin was called. 
 
 " There are few men whom I remember with more affec- 
 tion than Dr. Griffin. He was the first minister of Christ of 
 whose preaching I have any distinct recollection, or from 
 whom I received any deep and permanent sense of divine 
 things. I was twelve years old when he preached in this 
 
SETTLEMENT AT NEW-HARTFORD. 9 
 
 town; and I remember his person, attitude, dress, modulations 
 of voice, and some of his texts and illustrations, as though 
 they were presented but yesterday. Simplicity and impres- 
 siveness you know were remarkable characteristics of his 
 preaching. All was on a level with the capacity of a child. 
 It was not till two or three years after this that I began to 
 consider myself a christian ; but the impressions of truth which 
 I received from him have probably contributed more to make 
 me what I am, (so far as there is any thing good belonging 
 to me,) than what I have received by means of any other 
 man. 
 
 "In the year 1796, a committee of the church, of which 
 the late Governor Treadwell was a member, was appointed to 
 draw up ' a compendious history of the church from its ori- 
 gin ' to that time. This was done by Gov. Treadwell ; and 
 the extract which I am about to give you, contains the an- 
 swers to some of the inquiries suggested in your letter. For 
 several years previous to Dr. Griffin's introduction to this pul- 
 pit, the society had been divided ; and the mutual animosities 
 of the parties were sometimes violent ; first relative to Mr. 01- 
 cott, for some years pastor of the church ; and after his dis- 
 mission, relative to Mr. Jonathan Brown, a candidate for the 
 ministry, who preached here immediately before Dr. Griffin, 
 and had warm admirers in the society, but to the greater and 
 better part of the church was unacceptable. 'Mr. Brown,' 
 the record says, 'preached here till March, 1793,' and adds, 
 ' After he had left us several efforts were made by his friends 
 to recall him, but without success. The society then invited 
 Mr. Edward Dorr Griffin to supply the pulpit. He according- 
 ly supplied it until December then next, with great ability and 
 reputation ; when, having been invited by the society, the 
 church called him to the work of the ministry almost unani- 
 mously ; and temporalities being adjusted, he accepted the 
 invitation in April, 1794 ; and in May following a council was 
 called to ordain him. But a formidable opposition, consisting 
 chiefly of those who felt aggrieved at the loss of Mr. Brown 
 and of those who differed from Mr. G. and the church on the 
 
 Vol. I. 2 
 
10 PREVIOUS TO HIS SETTLEMENT, (fec. 
 
 subject of baptism and the doctrines of grace, remonstiated 
 before the council ; which, after a hearing, determined not to 
 proceed, principally by reason of objections against some of 
 the members of the council, and against the form of the con- 
 tract between the society and Mr. Griffin. Wherefore, as no 
 decision was had on the merits, the church in the month of 
 June following voted to call a second council to ordain Mr. 
 Griffin, w^ith which vote the society concurred. Accordingly 
 another council was convened ; and the opposers persevering 
 in their effoits, laid in sundry unfounded charges against Mr. 
 Griffin, and the proofs not being prepared, the council ad- 
 journed: and being again convened, and the evidences taken, 
 Mr. Griffin was acquitted with honor, and his character fully 
 vindicated. But the gloomy prospect before him induced Mr. 
 Griffin in that stage of the business to request the council not 
 to proceed to ordain him, if they judged he could fairly be re- 
 leased from the obligations of his contract ; and accordingly 
 the council, on consultation, thought proper to proceed no 
 further.' " 
 
 In July and August, 1794, he preached several 
 sabbaths at Middlebury, Conn, where he introduced 
 meetings on week days as usual, and was instru- 
 mental of the hopeful conversion of several indivi- 
 duals. He also supplied three other places for a 
 short time previous to the commencement of his 
 labors at New-Hartford. In referring to his views 
 at that period of life, he says, 
 
 I felt it to be a principal recommendation of a place as my 
 residence, that the people would allow me to hold as many 
 meetings as I pleased. I held extra meetings in every place 
 where I preached, which was a new thing at that day. What 
 then appeared strange, bating some youthful indiscretions, has 
 long since become the general usage. T had an opportunity 
 to see the whole field of death before a bone began to move. 
 And no one who comes upon the stage forty years afterwards 
 can have any idea of the state of things at that time. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 HIS RESIDENCE AT NEW^HARTFORD. 
 
 Mr. Griffin was ordained and installed pastor 
 of the congregational church at New-Hartford, 
 June 4, 1795, having supplied them for some months 
 in the capacity of a candidate. Almost immediately 
 after he commenced his labors, there was an in- 
 creased attention to religion among his people, and 
 a revival of considerable power succeeded, which 
 resulted in the addition of about fifty persons to the 
 church. 
 
 On the 17th of May, 1796, he was married to 
 Frances Huntington, daughter of the Rev. Doctor 
 Joseph Huntington, of Coventry, and niece and 
 adopted daughter of Governor Samuel Hunting- 
 ton, of Norwich, Conn, formerly President of Con- 
 gress, and one of the Signers of the Declaration 
 of American Independence. Doctor H. and Go- 
 vernor H. were brothers, and married sisters. Go- 
 vernor H. had no children; and Mrs. Griffin's 
 mother dying when she was two years old, gave 
 her and her brother Samuel (afterwards Governor 
 of Ohio,) to her sister and her sister's husband the 
 Governor, who brought them up as their own child- 
 ren, and made them their heirs. 
 
12 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 In the year 1797 he commenced a regular jour- 
 nal of his christian experience, which he continued, 
 not however without frequent and sometimes pro- 
 tracted interruptions, till the close of life. Under 
 date of July 12th of that year, he writes thus: 
 
 This day ever memorable to my soul for the commence- 
 ment of these memoirs, has been set apart as a day of secret 
 prayer and fasting. It has pleased God, I hope, to retmn to 
 me after a painful absence of several months, and after I had 
 almost despaired of so great a blessing. May I be humbly 
 thankful all my days that the Lord, as I hope, has come to 
 look up and bring home his long lost wandering sheep. May 
 the pains of absence teach me to wander no more. Alas, how 
 have new relations, and the new cares of a family state, drawn 
 my mind away from God. There are more dangers in every 
 pleasing earthly scene than the inexperienced are aware of. 
 Adversity, I find, is a much safer state than prosperity. May 
 adversities uninterrupted be my lot, if a humble dependance 
 on God and sweet communion with him can be enjoyed on 
 no easier terms. Sure I am that the possession of the whole 
 world for the same space of time could not produce so much 
 happiness, as the absence of God for fourteen months past has 
 produced misery. The conclusion is, that all the world can- 
 not countervail the loss of God. I have now hved in God's 
 world more than twenty-seven years. It is just about six 
 years since, I hope, he effectually turned my attention to re- 
 ligion ; and yet (with regret I say it) I have never kept any 
 journal of God's dealings with me before now. By this ne- 
 o-lect I beUeve I have lost much. May God enable me to be 
 more faithful in future. I find none of my own exercises 
 committed to writing, except a covenant which contains sun- 
 dry resolutions, bearing date April 20th, 1793, with a space 
 left to insert new ones; all which, with some small alterations, 
 I will transcribe, and now solemnly renew in the presence of 
 God. 
 
NEW-HARTPORD. 13 
 
 Resolved, in the strengtli of Christ, to lay aside vain 
 conversation, puerile behavior, excessive levity, pride of life, 
 improper exertions to please the world, the lusts of the flesh, 
 reflections on things unlawful to speak or act, impatience or 
 discontent at the dispensations of providence, gloom and de- 
 jection contrary to the direction " Rejoice evermore," slander, 
 flattery and deceit, self-sufiicient airs, authoritative or dogma- 
 tic assertions of my own opinion, and every thing opposed to 
 an humble deportment ; petulance, harshness, and impatient 
 expressions in my family or elsewherej want of attention to 
 please and to interchange civilities from indolence, pri^^ and 
 sourness under the garb of deadness to the world, careless dis- 
 regard of the minute principles of prudence and correct beha- 
 viour; waste of time, and whatever is inconsistent with the 
 character of a disciple and follower of Jesus, — a minister of 
 the everlasting gospel, — a guide and example of souls, to 
 whom those are committed for whom Christ died: remember- 
 ing that the eyes of a censorious world and of a holy God are 
 upon me, and that for every breach of this covenant I must 
 give an account. 
 
 Resolved at the close of every day to repeat the above re- 
 solutions, and compare my conduct through the day there- 
 with. 
 
 Resolved that it is best ordinarily to mingle more praises 
 and thanksgivings with our devotions than is usually done. 
 
 Resolved generally to close evening devotions with fixed 
 contemplations on the glory of God, of Christ, of Heaven, on 
 the vanity of the world, &c. 
 
 Resolved to devote a portion of time on every Sabbath 
 morning to contemplations on God and Christ, and Heaven, 
 and divine love, and the great things commemorated by the 
 day ; on the solemnity of divine worship, — on the importance 
 of the place which I am to fill in the course of the day ; on 
 the worth of souls, and the weight of the charge committed 
 to me, &c. 
 
 Resolved to devote a portion of time every Sabbath eve- 
 ning, to examine into the manner in which the duties of the 
 
14 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 day have been performed, — to apply the preaching to myself, 
 and to enter into a fixed, full self-examination. 
 
 Resolved to confine myself generally to practical books on 
 the Sabbath, and when possible, avoid writing sermons on 
 that day. 
 
 The experience of more than four years has convinced me 
 that '• he that trusteth to his own heart is a fool." When 
 these resolutions were written, they assumed the air of assu- 
 rance that they would be kept. But alas, I find I have more 
 reason to be diffident of my own heart than I was sensible of 
 at that time. I would now, with dependance on the strength 
 of Christ alone, form some neio resolutions. 
 
 Resolved to set apart, as often as is convenient, days for 
 private prayer and fasting. 
 
 Resolved to spend as much time as possible in making 
 religious visits to my people, especially to the sick and afflict- 
 ed, and to spend as little time as possible in visits where reli- 
 gious conversation cannot be introduced, and to attend as 
 many religious meetings as are convenient out of season. 
 
 Resolved to pay particular attention to the religious in- 
 struction of the children, and to take measures to catechise 
 them. 
 
 Resolved to be much in prayer for my people, to set good 
 examples before them, and not conduct so as to grieve the 
 Spirit of God away from us. 
 
 Resolved, as a husband, to avoid all petulancy and pre- 
 tensions to authority and superiority, — to maintain a manly 
 tenderness, — to be much in religious conversation with my 
 wife, — to seek to help her onward in the divine life, — to pray 
 for her, — to avoid idolatrous affections, and endeavor to sup- 
 port her, by benevolent sympathy, under the unavoidable trials 
 of Ufe. 
 
 Resolved, as the head of a family, to avoid harshness 
 and severity of expression or discipline, to mingle decision 
 with tenderness in order to unite in the minds of the children 
 respectful fear and affectionate confidence; to reprove in a way 
 
NEW-HARTFORD. 15 
 
 to convict, to talk frequently with them on religion, and to 
 pray for them. 
 
 Resolved to avoid a stoical severity in my deportment, and 
 to win, by a kind, affable address, the confidence and friend- 
 ship of those whom it is my duty to serve. 
 
 Resolved to keep up an epistolary correspondence with a 
 number of pious faithful friends, and not forget them in my 
 prayers. 
 
 Resolved to avoid intimacies with the wicked. 
 
 Resolved to retire to rest by nine, to arise (unless it be- 
 comes necessary to have different hours in the winter) by five ; 
 to devote to reading and transcribing from the Bible and to 
 devotion all the time until eight ; exercise until nine ; study 
 until twelve ; rest until two ; study until five ; exercise, rest 
 or visit, until night ; necessary visits and company excepted. 
 
 Resolved to begin early in the week to write my sermons, 
 and to endeavor to keep some sermons beforehand. 
 
 All which resolutions may God, in his boundless mercy, 
 enable me to keep unto the end, unless he shall convince me 
 of the propriety of making some alterations in them. Amen. 
 
 Sabbath. July 16. I find that one great cause of coldness 
 and barrenness in religion is the indulgence of vain, worldly, 
 romantic thoughts. Therefore, 
 
 Resolved to employ my mind, when not engaged on other 
 necessary subjects, in p cfitable contemplations. 
 
 How much more knowledge might I store up by a due ob- 
 servance of this rule one year, than I have gained in all my 
 life. May God enable me to keep this resolution, for without 
 him I have learned that I can do nothing. I find that my 
 spiritual enemies will never be overcome without a most dili- 
 gent watch kept up against them, and without a life of prayer. 
 I would, therefore, though my own weakness is evident, wish 
 to Resolve evermore to " watch and pray that I enter not 
 into temptation." 
 
 Wednesday J Jidy 2Qth. Last night a young man came to 
 converse with me, who I never knew was serious, but who 
 has at turns been anxious for himself these several years, and 
 
16 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 has, in the course of the last two months, indulged a hope. 
 The occasion, I must say, was exceedingly joyful and anima- 
 ting to me. It encouraged me to hope that God was again 
 returning among us. After he went away I had the most 
 precious season that I have had these fifteen months. My 
 soul went forth, as I really thought, in prayer for this precious 
 people, and for Zion at large. My greatest desire seemed to 
 be for these objects. I could scarcely think or pray for any 
 thing else. I was, as I frequently have been of late, affected 
 with the great things which God is doing for Zion at the pre- 
 sent day. O may thy kingdom come ! 
 
 Sabbath evening, July 30th. I view it a matter of so much 
 importance to ascertain with precision my true character, that 
 I have 
 
 Resolved to write down carefully the result of every ex- 
 amination, whenever I can bring my mind to any point ; that, 
 by a retrospective survey of my exercises, I may always have 
 before my eyes the summary of the evidence in favor of my 
 adoption. In this part of my memoirs I resolve to observe, if 
 possible, a more scrupulous exactness than in any other. God 
 forbid that I should flatter myself where flattery may prove 
 everlastingly fatal ! 
 
 Examination. I have been endeavoring to determine the 
 grounds of my uneasiness in view of my conduct this day. 
 Can say no more than this : It gives me pain that I have act- 
 ed such an unworthy, inconsistent part, by which leanness 
 has been brought into my own soul, and my ministrations 
 rendered comparatively useless. It is difficult to trace my mo- 
 tives any farther. My exercises are indistinct. Alas, if I had 
 lived more at home, I should have been more acquainted with 
 myself I once pursued this duty with more faithfulness, un- 
 til it became comparatively easy to search about my heart ; 
 but it has now been so long neglected, that I find myself a 
 stranger at home, and have forgotten the way around the dif- 
 ferent apartments of my mind. 
 
 It seems at times perfectly incredible, and almost impossible, 
 that so much sin can consist with grace. I have lately had 
 
NEW-HARTKORD. 17 
 
 jnoie doubts than before. My doubts increase ac(;oidingly as 
 I neglect the duties of prayer, contemplation, watchfuhiess 
 and examinatiola. 
 
 August 2d, Wednesday morning. This day is appointed 
 to be set apart by me in company with some of the neighbor- 
 ing ministers, as a day of fasting and prayer. I would wish 
 through the day, 
 
 (1.) To banish every worldly care and thought. 
 (2.) Strive to possess myself of a deep sense of my sin. 
 (3.) As the chief object of our prayers is to be, by express 
 agreement, the advancement of Zion, I would wish to pos- 
 sess myself of views of the worth of the church, and of the 
 importance of her being advanced. 
 
 (4.) Guard myself, when leading in prayer, against a wish 
 to appear artificially ardent or humble. 
 
 (5.) Guard against introducing or joining in any conversa- 
 tion, even though it may be of the religious kind, which shall 
 tend to take my mind off from the immediate business of the 
 day. 
 (6.) Strive to ask all truly in the name of Christ. 
 Evening. Upon a review of my exercises through the day, 
 I find much cause for shame and humiliation, and that it is 
 much easier to onake resolutions than to keep them. 
 
 Sahhath morning, August 6t/i. Expect to preach to-day 
 in opposition to what is commonly called the half-way jtrac- 
 tice; to which many of the people are strongly attached, and 
 which threatens to raise disturbances among us, the Lord 
 knows how serious. Have also to administer the Lord's sup- 
 per. It is my desire this day not to be actuated by a wilful, 
 haughty resolution to carry my point ; not to exhibit any im- 
 prudent, effeminate weakness or fear; to exercise a deep con- 
 cern that the people may walk in the true order of the gos- 
 pel, and that they may not break to pieces and injure them- 
 selves. I wish to go to the sanctuary under a sense of my 
 own unworthiness, and apprehensive that my imprudences 
 negligences, and unfaithfulness, may have given occasion to 
 the discontents which appear. I wish to feel humility and 
 Vol. I. 3 
 
18 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 fervency in prayer ; to have close, fixed attention in singing 
 God's praise; and at the sacrament to exercise humility, peni- 
 tence, and faith, and make a renewed dedication of myself to 
 God. 
 
 Sabbath evening. Have reason to bless God that he has 
 given me a better Sabbath than I have been Avont to have. 
 But I fear I have not possessed a sufficiently tender, humble 
 spirit ; that I was desirous to convince my people that I was 
 not afraid of them. Have felt the operation of spiritual pride 
 in consequence of some enlargements. This, alas, is no new 
 thing. 
 
 I fear I have been too willing that the people should send 
 me away, under the notion of getting a better place. I have 
 endeavored to correct myself, and have made the following 
 resolutions: — 
 
 (1.) Let me not be so selfish as to be unaflfected with what 
 will injure the people, out of respect to private interest. (2.) 
 Let me not wish myself removed from a place in which God 
 has placed me and blessed my labors. (3.) Let me not do 
 any thing to effect a dissolution of our connexion ; but be as 
 faithful, prayerful, prudSnt, and humble, as though this was 
 the only place in which I could labor; and then, if the Lord 
 send me away, I can go with a good conscience, with good 
 reputation, and with his blessing. (4.) Let me be humble, 
 patient, and resigned in all my conversation on the subject. 
 
 Examination. Have tried myself on the subject of leav- 
 ing this people, and think I can say that I would not, by any 
 means, exchange this for a more agreeable place, without 
 God's approbation and direction : Because, (L) I dare not run 
 away from a place in which he has put me, for fear of carry- 
 ing his curse with me. (2.) I would be where I can be the 
 most useful, and that he can best determine. I think I would 
 rather be useful in a poor place than useless in another. The 
 interest which I am to take care of seems too great to be sa- 
 crificed to private considerations. Besides, I feel as though 
 the pleasantest place without the approbation and presence of 
 God. would be very unpleasant. "Give what thou canst. 
 
NEW-HARTFORD. 19 
 
 without tliee we are poor, and with thee rich, take what thou 
 wilt away." 
 
 I think I can farther say that I would rather the Lord 
 should determine all the circumstances of my life than choose 
 for myself; because this will conduce most to the general 
 good, and to my own happiness. I think the first motive is 
 the strongest. I think that I wish the Lord, whose I am and 
 who has an important interest to promote, to direct where and 
 how I shall serve him. I wish to be at his disposal and com- 
 mand. I feel it a happiness that I am in his hands, and that 
 he will dispose of all things so as best to answer his most ex- 
 cellent purposes. "Tiie Lord reigneth, let the earth rejoice.'' 
 If afflictions will make me better, I know I am willing to 
 bear them ; or if they will help forward the redeeming jilan, I 
 think I am willing God should impose them, at least to a con- 
 siderable degree. My heart is deceitful — I dare not go any 
 further. And yet I must say, it seems that, feeling as I now 
 do, I should not object if the Lord should take any thing 
 which I have, if it would promote that cause which Christ 
 died to promote, which is the cause of all truth and of all hap- 
 piness. 
 
 Sahhath morning^ August 13^/i. I expect to preach this 
 morning from Genesis, v. 24. The subject has been sweet to 
 me. I desire (L) to deliver it with a sincere desire to main- 
 tain in future a inore close walk with God myself, and to per- 
 suade others to do so likewise. (2.) To avoid the pride which 
 is too apt to arise from the belief that I am delivering a good 
 sermon. 
 
 From some symptoms discovered in the place, and from the 
 increased desires of my own mind, I have had some hopes 
 that my sermons this day will be blessed. The weather how- 
 ever looks so unpromising, that I fear few will attend meeting. 
 But I desire to go, not discouraged at this, but believing that 
 God can make it a most glorious day, — a day of extensive 
 good, though the meeting be thin. O Lord, in mercy, I en- 
 treat thee, grant me this desire of my mind ! 
 
 Noon. My thoughts have this forenoon been lecattered, my 
 
20 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 mind foi the most part dark and dead, though possessed, 1 
 hope, of some sweetness in the duties of the sanctuary. How 
 much need have I to preach to myself the things which I 
 preach to others! O that I might in future maintain a more 
 intimate walk with God. 
 
 This afternoon I expect to preach on the importance of the 
 soul, from Matt. xvi. 26. May I be influenced through all the 
 exercises by an humble concern for souls, and not be unmind- 
 ful of my own vineyard. 
 
 Evejiing. Blessed be the Lord, I hope I had this after- 
 noon some sense of the worth of souls, and some desires for 
 their salvation. But yet much self was mingled with my ex- 
 ercises. Much of my apparent zeal, I fear, arose from pride 
 and animal affection. If souls are so important as I have re- 
 presented, may I in future be more concerned for my own and 
 for those committed to me; and not sleep away my life in 
 security, and amuse myself with toys, or at best with vain 
 speculations, while thousands for whom Christ died are perish- 
 ino- all around me. I own I have not a reaUzing sense of 
 these things. 
 
 Examination. The greatest desires of my mind at pre- 
 sent seem to be, (1.) that God would reduce me to a mild, 
 tender, sweet-tempered, amiable Christian, in all my deport- 
 ment towards my family, towards my people, and towards the 
 world. (2.) That he would direct me to adopt the best possi- 
 ble plan to promote the immortal interests of this people, and 
 to spend my time, and to exercise my faculties, so as to an- 
 swer, in the happiest manner, the purposes of my existence- 
 (3.) That he would come down among this people with the 
 powerful influences of his Spirit. It is my hearty desire that 
 he would bow the hearts of my bitterest enemies with the in- 
 fluences of his religion. I find nothing in my heart opposed 
 to an affectionate wish that they may be happy in Christ. I 
 should exceedingly rejoice in anTopportunity of pouring into 
 their distressed souls the consolations of the gospel, and lead- 
 ing them to the Saviour. 
 
 I feel greatly pained with the opposite of a soft, mild, sweet 
 
NEW-HARTPORD. 21 
 
 disposition. I am firmly persuaded that if habits of good tem- 
 per arc not formed in youth, they never will be, without al- 
 most a miracle ; and age must be soured and ruffled with No- 
 vember storms. Therefore, with great seriousness, I have 
 
 Resolved to avoid every appearance of impatience in the 
 manner of my conversation with all, and never to consider 
 any circumstances sufficient to justify a departure from this 
 rule. 
 
 Further, I do firmly believe that if mild, tender, lenient 
 measures, attended at times with unimpassioned correction, 
 and followed up with exhortation and prayer, do not effect the 
 purposes of family government, nothing will. Therefore, 
 
 Resolved, never to speak to my domestics with any ap- 
 pearance of temper, nor adopt a system of harsh treatment of 
 them, but to speak to them tenderly and mildly, even in re- 
 proof; and not to undertake to reprove them for every little 
 slip, lest they grow hardened. 
 
 I must fix it in my mind not to expect every thing accordino- 
 to my wishes in those with whom I have intercourse. Others 
 have to bear things in we, and why should not / bear with 
 the weaknesses of others? It is no excuse for me to lose ray 
 temper, that others do wrong, 
 
 Thursday^ August 17th. Resolved, (extraordinaries ex- 
 cepted,) to begin to write for the Sabbath on Monday, to com- 
 plete my sermons Monday and Tuesday^ and to devote Thurs- 
 day to visit my 'people for religious purposes; or if any thing, 
 when I am not on a journey, and when no fast, thanksgiving, 
 ministers' meeting, or concert occurs, should prevent my visit- 
 ing that day, to spend two days the next week. 
 
 Resolved, for the present, to devote the first Wednesday 
 in every other month, viz. January, March, May, July, Sep- 
 tember, November, to correspond with christian friends and to 
 pray for them, though they must not be forgotten daily. 
 
 Resolved to read some devotional piece, besides the scrip- 
 tures, every day. 
 
 Resolved to set apart some day as near as convenient to 
 the 6th of January, (my birth-day and the commencement of 
 
22 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 a new year,) and to the 6th of April, (the next quarter, and 
 not far from the time when I first made a profession of reli- 
 gion, and first became acquainted with her whom providence 
 has given me for a wife,) and to the 6th of July, (the next 
 quarter, and about the time from which I have dated what I 
 hope was a saving conversion, and about the time of com- 
 mencing these memoirs; also between last quarter day and 
 this, both my marriage and my ordination took place;) and 
 to the 6tli of October, (the next quarter day, and not fai from 
 the time when I was first licensed to preach the everlasting 
 gospel, and also about the time of first coming to New-Hart- 
 ford ;) as days of fasting and prayer. On these days I pur- 
 pose to call to mind the events above enumerated and make 
 suitable reflections on them, renew the dedication of myself to 
 God, make suitable confessions and humihations, and enter 
 into a train of self-examination; review my resolutions, &c. 
 Besides these, I will from time to time set apart days for spe- 
 cial devotion, as God shall put it into my heart. 
 
 Resolved to keep a book in which to insert the result of 
 the intercourse with my people, in my visits, and any names, 
 or cases, or memoranda, which shall appear useful to me as a 
 minister or a christian. 
 
 Examination. Sabhath evening, August 20th. I have 
 been this evening examining ray feelings towards God, the 
 law, and Jesus Christ, and the plan of salvation by him. I 
 have asked myself such questions as these: Am I pleased with 
 a God who sits on the throne of the universe, governing all 
 matters so as to promote the highest happiness of the uni- 
 verse; who, in the exercise of infinite benevolence, has en- 
 tered on a system of operations most conducive to manifest 
 and diffiise himself, and to complete a kingdom of holy, be- 
 nevolent, and happy beings; who is perfectly pure and holy; 
 and who, as the faithful guardian of the universe, has resolv- 
 ed to punish every thing which opposes its happiness; who ab- 
 hors every sin, even mine; who has manifested his abhor- 
 rence of sin in the destruction of the old world, Sodom, &c. 
 and on the cross, and in the punishment of my sins; who is 
 
NEW-HARTFORD. 23 
 
 just, merciful, patient, and faithful; who has made discoveries 
 of these perfections in the gospel, and in all that he has done 
 for Zion, from the days of Adam; who requires himself to be 
 loved and respected supremely ? (fcc. Do I love the law which 
 requires perfect benevolence and sinless perfection, and con- 
 demns for every transgression? Would I wish for a law any 
 wise different? Have I any hopes of being able to atone for 
 my sins? Am I pleased with the character and offices of 
 Christ and the way of salvation by him ? That he should 
 have all the praise of my salvation, and that I should be ex- 
 empt from punishment in consequence of the opportunity 
 which he has given God to manifest, in his treatment of him, 
 his abhorrence of my sins? (fee. And after the most serious 
 and elaborate examination, I dare not come to any fixed con- 
 clusion, though I hope my heart is pleased with this represen- 
 tation of God, and the law, and Christ. I think I feel 
 ashamed that while so many hearts in heaven and earth are 
 flaming with love and admiration in view of these truths, 
 mine is so little affected by them, that I cannot decide whether 
 I love them or not. Yet I solemnly determine not to give up 
 the examination until I can answer decisively. I am resolved 
 to pursue it to-morrow. And O, may the Lord give me light 
 to see and know myself, and to love him with fervency. 
 
 Examination. Monday evenings Aug. 2\st. This morn- 
 ing I pursued the examination which was left unfinished last 
 night; but was again unable to come to any fixed conclusion. 
 Have been on the subject, at turns, through the day. This 
 evening I have renewed it with more fixed attention, and 
 blessed be God, I have enjoyed more clearness of views, by 
 which I have been enabled to lender the following answers to 
 the following questions: 
 
 Would you consent to see your house in ashes and to be 
 stripped of every thing on earth to rescue your greatest enemy 
 from an eternal hell, and to secure to him increasing eternal 
 glory? 
 
 Yes, certainly: I would give up every thing that I could 
 give up, of an earthly nature, for this purpose. 
 
24 
 
 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 Are you pleased that God has given a law requiring such a 
 temper in all? 
 
 Surely I am. What a most beautiful and glorious society 
 does such a law tend to produce ! 
 
 Does not God, by enacting a law to make such a temper 
 general, act like an excellent being ? 
 
 Yes, his encouragement of such a temper proves him to be 
 a most excellent being. 
 
 Does not the manifestation which Christ has made of such 
 a temper, cause him to appear, independently of gratitude, an 
 excellent being? 
 
 Yes, benevolence to the great whole looks amiably, let it 
 exist where it may. 
 
 If the law is such an excellent rule, does it not look desira- 
 ble that every one should conform to it? 
 
 Most certainly it does. What beautiful society would this 
 produce ! What a foundation for immortal union, love, and 
 happiness ! 
 
 Does it not appear desirable that, in order to sanctify and 
 honor and support this most lovely rule, transgressions of it 
 should be severely frowned upon and punished ? 
 
 It seems that any measures which conduce to the universal, 
 or even general establishment of this rule, so essential to the 
 happiness of the universe, are desirable. 
 
 Since it would have tended to lessen the respectability of 
 this rule, had my transgressions of it escaped without a frown, 
 am I pleased with the idea of not being pardoned but in con- 
 sequence of the opportunity which was given on the cross to 
 manifest this frown ? 
 
 As Christ came to honor and magnify that law, (which he 
 said required only love to God and man,) by his obedience and 
 death, I am pleased with his coming into the world. Further, 
 I am willing to be pardoned, and to have it understood that I 
 am an undeserving rebel, saved by sovereign grace. I wish 
 to have it openly declared that I was a monstrous rebel in 
 opposing such an excellent law, in order that the law may be 
 supported and sin discountenanced. I should wish to make 
 
NEW-HARTFORD. 25 
 
 the declaration myself, and condemn my conduct before three 
 worlds, if there was no other way to have it condemned. 
 
 Since I have sinned, and since it must be known in order 
 that God's righteousness may appear, I wish to have it public- 
 ly understood that I am a vile un.ieserving wretch indebted to 
 boundless grace for pardon. I wish by all means to have it 
 understood that my sins arc not winked at, and that God 
 manifested his abhorrence of them by what took place on the 
 cross, and that it was in consequence of this manifestation that 
 he gratified his grace in my pardon, and also in consequence 
 of the intercession of my Advocate. I think I rejoice in Christ 
 as my prophet, priest, and king ; and can with pleasure com- 
 mit to him the care of all my spiritual interests. 
 
 Does not the belief that all the works and operations of God 
 have the same design as the law, viz. to promote general hap- 
 piness, and that he has the temper required in the law, make 
 him appear very amiable and worthy ? 
 
 Most lovely and glorious. So far as I can know my heart, 
 this is the God whom I approve and love. This is the God 
 whom I choose for my everlasting portion. How rich is the 
 universe in containing such a God ! With pleasing adoration 
 I look up and say. Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts. To 
 him be glory for ever. Amen. 
 
 Examination. Wediiesclay, August 23d. Since Monday, 
 God has appeared as sitting on the top of the universe, and 
 pouring out the law from his very heart. Methinks I could 
 trace this golden chain, which binds the world together, up to 
 this heart, in which it in a sense originates. This view of 
 things, I think, has given me pleasant thoughts of God. 
 
 I have in times past found it extremely difficult to gain a 
 realizing view of the need and fitness of Christ's dying to atone 
 for sin. This has appeared the gordian knot in divinity. I 
 thought I could more easily see the propriety of his advocacy : 
 but it was hard to see how mi/ sins were properly punished, 
 or any frown properly manifested against them, by the suffer- 
 ings of Christ. Lately I have been particularly soHcitous to 
 look into this matter more deeply ; and have by a divine bless- 
 
 VoL. L 4 
 
26 RKSIUKNCE AT 
 
 ing been enabled, I trust, to see and leel the beauty and ex- 
 cellency of this way of pardon, and indeed of all the offices of 
 Christ. I think he has truly appeared the chiefest among ten 
 thousand, and altogether lovely. I could, with far more un- 
 derstanding and clearness than ever, realize the force of that 
 text, "To them therefore which believe, he is precious." Such 
 a succession of views as the following, has led to a more real- 
 izing sense of the propriety and fitness of the atonement. 
 
 Might it not appear to the universe that God was an enemy 
 to the sin of him who offered a sin offering in Israel? Is it 
 not easy to see that, if the world sees me standing by a lamb 
 whose life God is taking, by mutual agreement, in the room 
 of mine, and on which he lays his rod avowedly as a substitute 
 for me, the death of the lamb expresses God's feelings towards 
 my sin, (so far as the death of the lamb is of weight,) and dis- 
 countenances transgression, and supports and sanctions the 
 law in its preceptive part, and as much, to say the least, in its 
 penal part ? If I am to be pardoned by Christ, the Lord ex- 
 pressly and avowedly laid his wrath on him as a substitute for 
 tne^ as much as though I was the 07ily sinner to be redeemed, 
 and as much as though I was present on the spot attending 
 on the sacrifice. And previous (in the order of nature) to my 
 pardon by the substitute, there is as much a mutual agreement 
 between God and my soul, that the auger which was about to 
 fall on my sins, should still be expressed, and should fall on 
 Christ, as though the agreement had been made before the 
 cross. If then any resentment against a son could be expressed 
 by resentment against his father who should purposely step 
 into his place to take the blow, God's anger towards my sin 
 was expressed, and the law vindicated and confirmed on the 
 cross, 
 
 I think, in reading the 7th, 8th, and 9th chapters of He- 
 brews, yesterday and to-day, I have indeed seen the insuffi- 
 ciency of the ancient sacrifices to atone for sin, and the desira- 
 bleness that so great a sacrifice should be made. How could 
 the sacrifice of a pigeon or a dove express God's full abhorrence 
 of sin, and show the world what an evil it was to transgress 
 
NKW-HARTPORI). 27 
 
 the law? I feci that in proportion to the greatness of the sa. 
 orifice, is the law honored. I cannot therefore hear the thought 
 of an atonement by a less sacrifice than Jesus Christ. I re- 
 joice in him as my atonement, for the honor which he has 
 done to the law. I do not wish to be saved without such an 
 atonement. This, I think is the deep feeling of my soul. 
 
 Examination. Saturday morning^ August 26th. Last 
 night, in closing my prayer with "for Christ's sake," the pro- 
 priety of Christ's advocacy rushed on my mind with new light. 
 It appeared undesirable that any blessings should be bestowed 
 on me for my own sake ; for this would be patronizing my 
 iniquity, which is the whole of my natural character. It ap- 
 peared desirable that they should be bestowed avowedly for 
 Christ's sake, that it might be publicly understood that they 
 were bestowed in consequence of what took place on the cross, 
 and out of respect to a perfect righteousness, that they might 
 be removed the farthest from the appearance of being a favor 
 to sin. Hence appeared the propriety of his intercessions for 
 his people, and of favors bestowed in consequence of his inter- 
 cessions. It was clearly opened to my view how that his ad- 
 vocacy was founded on his atonement for sin and obedience 
 to the law. 
 
 My heart has been lately desiring to look into these things ; 
 to trace the spiritual glory and beauty of them. I never so 
 realizingly perceived the importance of growing in knowledge, 
 and of attaining a deep acquaintance with the scriptures. At 
 the same time, I never so fully saw the impropriety, and even 
 profaneness of studying these things for the sake of mere spe- 
 culation. It looks like handling infinitely important things 
 idly and carelessly, and akin to taking God's name in vain. 
 O may I in future avoid this great sin, of which I have been 
 so deeply guilty ! 
 
 Monday, August 2Sth. This day I have set apart for special 
 devotion, to seek God in regard to a journey which I expect to 
 commence to-morrow. I expected to have commenced the 
 journey to day, and hoped to have spent a day in devotion 
 last week. But necessary avocations disappointed me in re- 
 
28 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 gard to the latter object, and a disappointment (which at first 
 seemed grievous, but now seems a mercy,) postpones my jour- 
 ney till to-morrow, and affords me opportunity to make prepa- 
 ration for it by a day of devotion. 
 
 My requests in regard to my journey are, — that God would 
 prosper me therein, succeed me in all my business, preserve 
 me and my wife in health and safety, and return us in due 
 time to our family laden with rich experience of his goodness : 
 that he would keep my house and family and parish in safety 
 until my return ; that I may find my friends in peace and 
 happiness and enjoy them ; that in all business I may feel my 
 dependance on God alone for success ; that I maybe preserved 
 from irritated feelings, and from imprudent or passionate ex- 
 pressions, in consequence of any diversity of opinions or mis- 
 understandings in business ; that I may be preserved from 
 vain and wandering thoughts, from vain conversation, from a 
 mean conformity to the world in things improper; and on the 
 other hand, from sour, morose rigidity, and in a word, from 
 being drawn away from God by intercourse with the world ; 
 that I may be preserved from any airs which would be an ex- 
 pression of pride and self-importance, and consider myself as 
 a minister of the meek and lowly Jesus, and as such, watched 
 by a censorious world ; that 1 may be preserved from the ne- 
 glect of daily secret prayer in my absence ; that I may enjoy 
 my religious friends in a religious way, more than in former 
 journeys, and derive more instruction, animation, and refresh- 
 ment from them ; that 1 may keep in mind that the honor of 
 religion depends greatly on the conduct and examples of 
 Christ's ministers ; and that I may keep up a punctual obser- 
 vance of all my former resolutions during my absence. 
 
 These shall be my special petitions through the day. I re- 
 solve furthermore to devote some part of the day to prayer for 
 friends, and that I will look over my memoirs and resolutions, 
 make suitable reflections on myself, enter into a train of self- 
 examination, and renew my covenant with God ; that I will 
 remember Zion at the throne of grace, adore God for hght 
 lately received, and make those common petitions which ap- 
 pear suitable. 
 
NEW-HARTFORD. 29 
 
 Evening. I have reviewed my memoirs and find mysell 
 too neglectful in observing my resolutions, especially some 
 which (I am ashamed to say) were almost forgotten ; though 
 perhaps they were not of the first importance. God grant me 
 grace so to conduct myself, that these resolutions will not rise 
 up in judgment against me. Let me ever remember, that " it 
 is better not to vow unto the Lord, than to vow and not pay." 
 
 I have been rather desultory in my petitions to day, and 
 have been not so clear as before in examination. I find it 
 does not answer to seek God negligently, nor to think of en- 
 joying a day of special devotion, unless the day is wholly con- 
 secrated to devotion. It will not answer to have the attention 
 divided between religious and secular things on such days, and 
 to resolve to devote only as much of the day to religion as 
 shall seem convenient. Hours must be fixed and unchange- 
 ably consecrated. However, I have enjoyed some happiness, 
 and I believe some fervency to day, and conclude with express- 
 ing a hope of the divine presence and blessing in our journey. 
 Sahbath morning, Sept. 10th. Last night 1 returned from 
 my journey, laden with rich experience of God's goodness. 
 Never did we find friends universally so kind and tender. We 
 have accomphshed our business more to our mind than we 
 expected. No misunderstanding arose. All was love and 
 success, and our temporal interest is better than we anticipated. 
 Throughout the journey God appeared, more than in any for- 
 mer journey, willing to attend upon me whenever I was dis- 
 posed for a moment to turn aside from the world to attend on 
 him. He did not hide himself from my search. But I have 
 abundant matter for self-accusation. I have, to a cruel degree, 
 forsaken and forgotten God. I have abundant reason to ac- 
 cuse myself of vanity in thoughts and words, of levity, of 
 worldly-mindedness and undue attempts to please the world 
 by improper conformities, of idolatrous affections, &c. &;c. 
 Never was a visit more agreeable, so far as the world could 
 contribute to make it so. And circumstances have been so or- 
 dered seemingly on purpose to give us a fair opportunity to 
 determine whether the world or God can aflford the most satis- 
 
30 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 faction. And here I record it to the praise of our adorable 
 Master, that the happiness which I feel this morning in con- 
 templating the affairs of his kingdom, is far superior to any 
 which the world has afforded during my journey. I most 
 deeply realize how much religion is superior to w^orldly good, 
 how much better God is as a Master than the world. 
 
 Wednesday^ Oct. Ath. In consequence of reading the 
 prayers of Miss Anthony, and discovering her intense desire 
 to obtain more clear and transforming views of God, I have 
 been led to reflect on the great difference between her prayers 
 and mine. I have been, for the most part, asking for particu- 
 lar exercises of divine power, to produce effects in regard to 
 me, my friends, ray people, and Zion at large. And in pray- 
 er my mind has been more on the desired effects, than on that 
 fulness and glorious sufficiency of wisdom, power, goodness, 
 majesty, condescension, patience, faithfulness and truth, which 
 there is in God. Thus I have stopped at the threshold, with- 
 out getting into the temple. Had I in prayer been more in- 
 tent to gaze into God, and had I exercised myself more in 
 adoration and praise, I believe my acquaintance with God 
 would have been vastly greater, and my mind more trans- 
 formed into his likeness. Let it in future be the burden of my 
 prayer, "Lord, show me thy glory." 
 
 Sahhath morning, Oct. Sth. Expect to preach both parts 
 of the day from Exodus xxxiii. 18. May I, under the influ- 
 ence of a delight in the essential glory of God, long, through 
 the day, to bring it out to view, in order to exalt God in the 
 esteem of men, to show them what ground of everlasting joy 
 there is, to prepare them to enjoy the good which is within 
 their reach, and to prepare them, by proper exercises towards 
 God, to compose a part of a duly proportioned, well adjusted, 
 harmonious, happy universe. 
 
 Sabbath, Dec. 17th. Examination. I have a solicitous 
 fear that I shall be left of God to fall into sin. This is my 
 most distressing apprehension. I fear sin more than any other 
 evil. But why ? Is it for fear of pubUc shame 7 Is it for fear 
 of final punishment? Is it for fear of those dreadful stings of 
 
NEW-HAllTFORD, 31 
 
 conscience which devils possess and dread 7 I think the rea- 
 son is, that sin is wrong; and is what my nature, in sober 
 frames, abhors. Good men may have stings of conscience. 
 And if the heart hates what the conscience disapproves, it is 
 a proof of rehgion. Well, if I know what it is to hate, I 
 think I do detest those sins which most easily beset me. I 
 think I hate to break sac ed obligations and act an unworthy, 
 wicked part. I think I hate to oppose that law and divine 
 benevolence which seeks the diffusion of happiness. And if 
 any good was offered me to be enjoyed in this world, I think 
 I should choose exemption from sin and the free enjoyment of 
 God before any other. O that I jiiight keep my ordination 
 vows and adorn my profession by holy examples ! 
 
 Dec. IStk. Some years ago in a distant town I gave a 
 poor disciple a coat. Last night he came, wearing the coat, 
 and brought a boy to live with me, which I exceedingly wanted. 
 Had it not been for the coat he would not have brought him. 
 I was affected, and was reminded of the Scripture, " Cast thy 
 bread upon the waters, for thou shaltfind it after many days." 
 May I never forget that it is profitable to lend to the Lord. 
 
 During the course of twenty .four hours the Lord has be- 
 stowed upon me four peculiar and distinguishing favors, and 
 three of a less kind which are still worthy of more than com- 
 mon notice. Three of the four I had, I hope, trusted God 
 for. The other was an unexpected and surprising favor. Is 
 it not good to serve and trust the Lord? Indeed, he is a good 
 Master. May I never forget the lesson which these dispensa- 
 tions have taught me, 
 
 Sabbath night, Dec. 2Uh. Have had a pleasant afternoon, 
 though attended with some wanderings. Preached on the de- 
 sign and duty of prayer in consistency with the immutability 
 of God. In the first prayer, had a train of reflections which 
 left an impression on my mind of the folly of making calcula- 
 tions for happiness on worldly circumstances, and of indulg- 
 ing painful feehngs on account of situation, &c. It appeared 
 that all happiness must be derived from God, and that if I am 
 bound down to the necessity of being happy in God, or being 
 
32 Residence at 
 
 wretched, I ouglit to consider it a great mercy. For, being in 
 such a necessity, I have less temptation to forsake God for 
 other objects. And I have learned that I cannot endure such 
 temptations. If this situation be less calculated to wean me 
 from the world, to afford me an opportunity to overcome my 
 pride and other corruptions, to prepare for a life of usefulness 
 and for a world of happiness, here let me live, and here let 
 me die, and thank God for having put me in circumstances so 
 favorable to ray eternal well being. 
 
 Examination. Why is it that I feel calm and happy to- 
 night? I think the following reasons conduce to this. (1.) 
 A sense of the kindness and mercy of the Lord. (2.) More 
 hope of his favor. (3.) More expectation and hope that as 
 God has not cast me off forever, he will assist me in over- 
 coming my corruptions and enable me to lead a holy, happy 
 life. That God should own and bless and undertake to carry 
 me through my warfare, seems the most desirable thing that 
 could happen to me. I long to be delivered from pride, anger 
 and vanity. The mercies of God seem affecting and plea- 
 sant. That he is on the mercy seat to hear when sinners 
 pray, seems an inexpressible favor and happiness. The pro- 
 phetic office of Christ, and the knowledge which he commu- 
 nicates, appear precious. It seems desirable that he who re- 
 deemed the Church should have the office of administering 
 salvation to it. And the excellencies of Christ, his tenderness, 
 love, faithfulness, and amiableness, seem to add a relish to the 
 salvation which he imparts. Salvation tastes the sweeter for 
 coming from him. 
 
 Sahhath morning, March Ath. This forenoon expect to ex- 
 plain the true character of Israel's God. I wish to do it with 
 a sincere desire to lead the people to a true knowledge of them- 
 selves and of God. And I wish to be affected myself with a 
 sense of the beauty of the divine perfections. In the afternoon 
 expect to administer a pointed reproof for some growing evils 
 in the place. May I speak with humility, with tenderness, 
 and with effect. 
 
 Noon. I have attended to my mind, and think I can say 
 
NEW-HARTFORD. 33 
 
 that the reproof which I have prepared to administer this af- 
 ternoon, has not proceeded from any other principle, (chiefly,) 
 than a wish to do good. I wish to administer it with humble 
 firmness, and leave the event with God. If it gives offence, 
 I think I can appeal to my conscience that I meant well. 
 God give abundant effect to the reproof, and prevent any from 
 taking offence. 
 
 Night. If ever I spoke with humble firmness, with a de- 
 sire to do good, without the fear of man, and with tenderness, 
 I have done so this afternoon; though the reproof was the 
 most pointed of any which I ever administered. Upon a view 
 of the whole, I think that I have (with as much right feeling 
 as I ever attain to,) done my duty, both in writing and deh- 
 vering this sermon. And if offence is taken and disturbances 
 are excited, I trust I shall not be accountable for them. With 
 God I leave the event; beseeching him to carry the truth to 
 the consciences of all, and cause it to produce permanent and 
 general good. Felt serious and happy in all the public exer- 
 cises of the day. 
 
 iSabbath evening, March Wth. I did not greatly feel my 
 sermons to-day; yet I had some freedom and ardor in prayer 
 especially in the fust prayer this afternoon. Col. Gardiner's 
 zeal, whose life I am now reading, shows me my own dead- 
 ness and barrenness. O that I might follow him, and other 
 saints, and the Son of God, with less uneciual steps. O for a 
 fresh anointing from God, that would make me more, much 
 more of a living man. 
 
 I have this day been showing that Christ and his disciples 
 are one in affection. And is it the case with me that I in very 
 deed love the Redeemer? I think I am pleased to think that 
 Christ came into the world to support the principle of supreme 
 love to God, tenderness towards the poor, forgiveness of ene- 
 mies, mutual affection and kindness between relatives, and 
 general benevolence to mankind and all beings. He did this 
 in taking measures that the laxo should not be set aside while 
 sinners were saved. He sanctified by his death every just and 
 excellent principle: and he appears excellent in this view. I 
 
 Vol.1. 5 
 
34 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 hope I feel in some degree unworthy of any favor from God, 
 and feel it to be inconsistent with inflexible purity, (which 
 must ahvays be armed against sin,) to overlook my sins and 
 bestow on me any favor but out of respect to the atonement 
 and perfect righteousness of Christ. Though my duties, so 
 far as they are good, are worthy of divine approbation, yet 
 my character, viewing it at large, is unworthy of God's ac- 
 ceptance. My best duties cannot make amends for my sins. 
 And therefore 1 consent to have my own righteousness dis- 
 claimed as filthy rags, and to have nothing which I have done 
 the ground of any favor from God. In this view I think I ap- 
 prove of Christ as my atonement, righteousness, and Advo- 
 cate. I think I approve of him as my Prophet, to instruct me 
 in the grand and excellent things of God ; as my Lawgiver 
 and Protector, as the Disposer of my life, as my Physician 
 and Shepherd, as my Captain to fight my battles and deliver 
 me from the world, the flesh, and the devil, as the Head of in- 
 fluence, as my Strength and Comforter, as a hiding place from 
 the wind, &c.; as one appointed to preach good tidings to the 
 meek, to bind up the broken-hearted, to deliver the captives, 
 and to give joy to such as mourn in Zion ; as the Lamb of 
 God which taketh away the sins of the world, and as my all 
 in all. Such a Saviour I hope, I cordially love, and cast my- 
 self upon him as my Saviour from sin and death. 
 
 January Ith^ 1799. Yesterday I was twenty-nine years old ; 
 and this day I set apart, (though my senses seem to be locked 
 up by a cold,) to commemorate my birth day and the com- 
 mencement of a new year. The Lord has once more visited 
 this town. The sermon which I delivered in the afternoon of 
 November 4th, I believe had more effect, through God's bless- 
 ing, than any sermon I ever delivered in my life, especially 
 on elderly people, who lay most on my mind. Last night I 
 conversed with two men for whom I had felt very special in- 
 terest. They both appear to be lately born again. My soul 
 was overjoyed. It seemed almost enough ; and I was well 
 nigh ready to say, " Now lettest thou thy servant depart," &c. 
 Glory te to God that he has thus so soon and so wonderfully 
 
NEW-HARTFORD, 35 
 
 visited this place again, when hope was just giving up the 
 ghost. I here leave it on record, that he is a prayer-hearing 
 and wonder-working God. My soul has lately been desirous 
 of seeing the kingdom of God come throughout the world, and 
 has had hopes that such a day would draw nigh. I think 
 the good appearances here have afforded me more sohd satis- 
 fying comfort than I ever enjoyed in an awakening before. 
 Among other peculiar circumstances calculated to produce joy, 
 God has fastened on a number of heads of families, the least 
 probable and the most important members of the society. 
 Things are just as I could wish, and every thing looks won- 
 derful. Began inspector of the schools under the new law. 
 I have lately felt much interested in forming a system of edu- 
 cation for the rising generation in this town, which promises 
 with a blessing, to make them a generation to God's praise. 
 I have desired, hoped, and prayed that God would carry it 
 through. Some murmur, but I leave the affair with God. I 
 know not that I ever set about any business with more plea- 
 sure than this. It promises much. Every thing has the ap- 
 pearance of being ordered in mercy. 
 
 Of the revival alluded to in the preceding para- 
 graph, the following detailed account was given in 
 two letters from Mr. Griffin, to the Editors of the 
 Connecticut Evangelical Magazine, and published 
 in the numbers of that work for December, 1800, 
 and January, 1801. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 Not having expected that an account of the late work of 
 God among us would be called for, I have not been careful to 
 charge my mind with particulars. Many impressive circum- 
 stances, which, had they stood alone, would not have been 
 soon forgotten, have given place to others, which in their turn 
 arrested and engrossed the attention. A succinct and general 
 account shall however be attempted. 
 
 The work of divine grace among us, three years ago, by 
 
36 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 which nearly fifty persons were hopefully added to the Lord, 
 had not wholly ceased to produce effects on the people gene- 
 rally, wlien the late scene of mercy and wonder commenced. 
 In the interval, several were, in the judgment of charity, 
 " created anew in Christ Jesus unto good works." It is not 
 known, however, that any thing took place in the summer of 
 1798, which had immediate connection with the present work, 
 unless it were some trying conflicts in a number of praying 
 minds, which appeared to humble and prepare them for the 
 blessings and the duties of the ensuing winter. 
 
 Late in October, 1798, the people frequently hearing of the 
 display of divine grace in West Simsbury, were increasingly 
 impressed with the information. Our conferences soon be- 
 came more crowded and evinced deeper feeling. Serious peo- 
 ple began to break their minds to each other ; and it was dis- 
 covered (so far were present impressions from being the effect 
 of mere sympathy) that there had been, for a considerable 
 time, in their minds, special desires for the revival of religion ; 
 while each one, unapprized of his neighbor's feelings, had sup- 
 posed his exercises peculiar to himself. It was soon agreed to 
 institute a secret meeting for the express purpose of praying for 
 effiisions of the Spirit ; which was the scene of such wrestlings 
 as are not, it is apprehended, commonly experienced. Seve- 
 ral circumstances conspired to increase our anxiety. The glo- 
 rious work had already begun in Torringford, and the cloud 
 appeared to be going all around us. It seemed as though Pro- 
 vidence, by avoiding us, designed to bring to remembrance 
 our past abuses of his grace. Besides, having been so recently 
 visited with distinguishing favors, we dared not allow our- 
 selves to expect a repetition of them so soon ; and we began to 
 apprehend it was the purpose of Him whom we had lately 
 grieved from among us, that we should, for penalty, stand 
 alone parched up in sight of surrounding showers. We consi- 
 dered what must be the probable fate of the risen generation, 
 if we v/ere to see no more of "the days that were past" for a 
 number of years, and tiie apprehension that we might not 
 caused sensations more easily felt than described. 
 
NEW-HARTFORD. 64 
 
 This was the state of the people when, on a Sabbath in the 
 montli of November, it was the sovereign pleasure of a most 
 merciful God, very sensibly to manifest himself in the public 
 assembly. Many abiding impressions were made on minds 
 seemingly the least susceptible, and on several grown old in 
 unbelief. From that memorable day the flame which had 
 been kindling in secret, broke out. By desire of the people, 
 religious conferences were set up in difierent parts of the town, 
 which continued to be attended by deeply affected crowds ; 
 and in which divine presence and power were manifested to a 
 degree which we had never before witnessed. It is not meant 
 that they were marked with out-cries, distortions of body, or 
 any symptoms of intemperate zeal ; but only that the power 
 of divine truth made deep impression on the assemblies. You 
 might often see a congregation sit with deep solemnity depict- 
 ed in their countenances, without observing a tear or sob dur- 
 ing the service. This last observation is not made with design 
 to cast odium on such natural expressions of a wounded spirit. 
 But the case was so with us that most of those who were ex- 
 ercised, were often too deeply impressed to weep. Addresses 
 to the passions, now no longer necessary since the attention 
 was engaged, were avoided ; and the aim was to come at the 
 conscience. Little terror was preached, except what is implied 
 in the doctrines of the entire depravity of the carnal heart — its 
 enmity against God — its deceitful doublings and attempts to 
 avoid the soul-humbling terms of the gospel, the radical defects 
 of the doings of the unregenerate, and the sovereignty of God 
 in the dispensations of his grace. The more clearly these and 
 other kindred doctrines were displayed and understood, the 
 more were convictions promoted. By convictions is meant 
 those views and feelings which are caused by uncovered truth, 
 and the influences of the Spirit, antecedently to conversion. 
 
 The order and progress of these convictions w^ere pretty 
 much as follows: The subjects of them were brought to feel 
 that they were transgressors, yet not that they were totally 
 sinful. As their convictions increased, they were constrained 
 to acknowledge their destitution of love to God ; but yet they 
 
38 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 thought they had no enmity against him. At length they 
 would come to see that enmity filled their hearts. This was 
 particularly exemplified in a certain house, in which were two 
 persons exercised in mind. One appeared to have a clear 
 sense of this enmity, and wondeied how she could have been 
 ignorant of it so long. The other was sensible that she pos- 
 sessed none of that love to God which the law required, but 
 could not believe that she entertained such enmity as filled the 
 other with so much remorse and anguish. A few days after- 
 wards, seeing a friend to whom she had expressed this senti- 
 ment, she was anxious to let him know her mistake, and in- 
 formed him that she had discovered that she " hated God with 
 all her heart." 
 
 In the first stages of conviction, it was not easy for the sub- 
 jects to realize their desert of eternal death. But afterwards, 
 even while they gave decisive evidence of being still as devoid of 
 a right temper as those wretches whose mouths will be stopped 
 by the light of the last day, their conviction of this desert was, 
 in many instances, very clear. Nevertheless, even to the last, 
 their hearts would recoil at the thought of being in God's 
 hands, and would rise against him for having reserved it to 
 himself to decide whether to sanctify and pardon them or not. 
 Though the display of this doctrine had the most powerful ten- 
 dency to strip them of all hopes from themselves, and to bring 
 them to the feet of sovereign grace ; yet as it thus sapped 
 the foundation on which they rested, their feelings were ex- 
 cited against it. There was a man who, having been well 
 indoctrinated, had for many years advocated this truth ; who 
 notwithstanding, when he came to be concerned about his sal- 
 vation and to apply this truth to his own case, was much dis- 
 pleased with it. He was at times quite agitated by a warfare 
 between his understanding and heart ; the former assenting to 
 the truth, the latter resisting it. He said it depended on God 
 and not on himself, whether he ever should comply with the 
 gospel ; and for God to withhold his influences, and then pu 
 nish him for not possessing the temper which these influences 
 alone could produce, appeared to him hard. Before conviction 
 
NEW-HARTFORD. 39 
 
 had become deep and powerful, many attempted to exculpate 
 themselves with this plea of inability, and hke their ancestor, 
 to cast the blame upon God, by pleading, " The nature which 
 he gave me, beguiled me." This was the enemy's strong 
 hold. All who were a little more thoughtful than common, 
 but not thoroughly convicted, would, upon the first attack, flee 
 to this refuge : " They would be glad to repent, but could not, 
 their nature and heart were so bad ;" as though their nature 
 and heart were not tliey themselves. But the progress of con- 
 viction in general soon removed this " refuge of lies," and fill- 
 ed them with a sense of utter inexcusableness ; and in every 
 case, as soon as their enmity was slain, this plea w^holly va- 
 nished, and their language immediately became, " I wonder 
 I ever should ask the question. How can I repent 7 My only 
 wonder now is that I could hold out so longP 
 
 It was not uncommon for the hearts of the convicted, as 
 they rose against God, to rise also against his ministers. Se- 
 veral who had not betrayed their feelings in the season of 
 them, afterwards confessed that such resentments had arisen. 
 In some instances, the emotions were plainly discoverable, and 
 in one, particularly, the subject was so incensed as to break 
 out in bitter expressions, but a few hours before being relieved 
 from the anguish of a deeply troubled spirit. Such things 
 seemed to be satisfying evidence that mere conviction no more 
 meliorates the heart in this, than in the other world; but 
 serves rather to draw out its corruptions into still stronger ex- 
 ercise. It may be suitable to add, that these sallies of resent- 
 ment were occasioned by the distinguishing doctrines of the 
 gospel, closely and affectionately applied to the conscience. 
 
 As soon as the heart of stone was removed and a heart of 
 flesh given, the subjects of this happy change exhibited senti- 
 ments and feelings widely different from those above described. 
 They were now wrapt up in admiration of the laws and ab- 
 solute government of God, which had before been the object 
 of so much cavil and disgust. Notwithstanding the extreme 
 delicacy and danger which attend the detail of individual 
 cases, it may on the whole, it is hoped, be more useful than 
 
40 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 injurious to confirm and illustrate the observation just now ad- 
 vanced by some particular relations. 
 
 There was a man, who, for a number of years, had enter- 
 tained hope of his personal interest in the covenant; and be- 
 ing of inoffensive behavior, had given people no other special 
 ground to distrust him than his opposition to divine sovereign- 
 ty, and disgust (which he now believes arose from a self- 
 righteous temper,) at the doctrine that God has no regard for 
 the doings of the unregenerate. He thought the impenitent 
 were thus too much discouraged from making their own ex- 
 ertions. Emboldened by a favorable opinion of his state, he 
 offered himself some time ago for communion with the church. 
 And because he could not assent to their confession of faith, 
 he petitioned to have several articles struck out, particularly 
 the one which asserts the doctrine of election. The church 
 did not consent, and he withdrew. But so exquisitely was his 
 sensibility touched, that he had it in serious consideration to 
 dispose of his property, and remove to some place "where he 
 might enjoy gospel ordinances." It pleased God the last win- 
 ter, to convince him that his "feet stood on sHppery places ;" 
 and after a scene of distressing conviction, his mind was com- 
 posed in view of those very truths which had been the objects 
 of his opposition. Since then, he has publicly manifested his 
 belief in the articles adopted by the church, and has been re- 
 ceived by them, to the "furtherance" of their "joy of faith" 
 and " comfort of love." 
 
 Another might be mentioned Avho was equally opposed to 
 the essential truths of revelation. Having the care of a school 
 in town, last winter, he was required by the inspectors to sub- 
 scribe to the belief, " that the general system of doctrines 
 taught in the assembly's catechism, is agreeable to the word of 
 God." He could not comply, on tlie ground that the cate- 
 chism asserts, "God hath foreordained whatsoever comes to 
 pass." The inspectors, loth to lose him, endeavored to con- 
 vince him. But this clause appeared to him so exceptionable 
 that he persisted in declining, and would have left his school 
 rather than comply, had he not at last discovered that the 
 
NEW-HARTFORD. 41 
 
 phrase "general system" would leave him room after sub- 
 scribing, to withhold his assent to the offensive article. Soon 
 after this, his conscience was seized by the convincing power 
 of truth, a great revolution was produced in his views and 
 feehngs, and he has since professed to be filled with admira- 
 tion of a government planned by eternal wisdom, and admi- 
 nistered by unerring rectitude. 
 
 It might perhaps not be unsuitable to mention the case of a 
 man upwards of 70 years of age; who, belonging to tiie low- 
 est class of society, and living in a very retired place, was ex- 
 tremely illiterate, and had little intercourse with the world, 
 yet was possessed of a strong mind and malignant passions. 
 Having conceived a strong disgust at so.iie of the peculiar doc- 
 trines of the gospel, he had given his word that he would hear 
 them no more. Because his wife had united with the church, 
 and attended public worship, he rendered her life very uncom- 
 fortable. On which subject I went to converse with him last 
 summer, and am certain I never saw a case in which so much 
 deliberate rancor and deadly hatred were expressed against 
 every thing sacred, against the essential truths of revelation, 
 and against the ministers and church of Christ in general. 
 In the expression both of his countenance and lips he approxi- 
 mated the nearest to my ideas of " the spirits in prison" of any 
 person I ever beheld. His enmity was not awakened to sud- 
 den rage, (for my treatment aimed at being conciUatory,) but 
 seemed deep-rooted and implacable. His resolution of keep- 
 ing from public worship he pertinaciously adhered to : nor had 
 he any connection with the conferences during the first period 
 of the awakening. Yet, disconnected as he was from all re- 
 ligious society and the means of grace, it pleased God late in 
 the winter, to take strong hold of his mind. He continued 
 for a while trembling in retirement; but when he could con- 
 tain no longer, he came out to find the conferences, and to 
 seek some experienced christians to whom he might lay open 
 his distress. Being called out of town about this time, I did 
 not see him in this condition ; and when I saw him next, he 
 was, in appearance, " clothed and in his right mind." Inqui- 
 
 Vol. I. 6 
 
42 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 ry being made respecting his apprehensions of those doctrines 
 which had been so ofi'ensive, he repUed, " they are the foun- 
 dation of the world." Every air seemed changed. Softness 
 and gentleness had taken the place of native ferocity, and the 
 man appeared tamed. I could not help reflecting that a reli- 
 gion which will make such changes in the tempers and man- 
 ners of men is a religion worth possessing. An awakening 
 which produces such eflects will not be censured by the friends 
 of human happiness. 
 
 It would not consist with the designed brevity of this nar- 
 rative, nor yet perbaps with propriety, to detail all the inte- 
 resting circumstances in the experiences of more than a hun- 
 dred persons, who appear to have been the subjects of this 
 work. It may, however, be not unuseful to go so far into par- 
 ticulars as to exhibit some of the distinguishing fruits of it. 
 The subjects of it have general!}^ expressed a choice that God 
 should pursue the "determinate counsel" of his own will, and 
 without consulting them, decide respecting their salvation. To 
 the question, whether they expected to alter the divine mind 
 by prayer? it has been answered "I sometimes think, if this 
 were possible, I should not dare to pray." When asked what 
 was the first thing which composed their anxious minds ? they 
 have sometimes answered, "the thought that I was in the 
 hands of God. It seems to me that whatever becomes of me, 
 whether I live or die, I cannot bear to be out of his hands." 
 Many have expressed a willingness to put their names to a 
 blank, and leave it with God to fill it up ; and that^ because 
 his having the government would secure the termination of 
 all things in his own glory. 
 
 They do not found their hopes on the suggestion of scrip- 
 ture passages to their minds, on dreams, or seeing sights, or 
 hearing voices, or on blind unaccountable impulses; but on 
 the persuasion that they have discovered in themselves the ex- 
 ercises of love to God and man, originating not in selfishness. 
 When asked what they had discov^ered in God to engage their 
 affections? they have sometimes answered, " I think I love 
 him because he hates sin, because he hates my sins." They 
 
NEW-HARTFORD. 43 
 
 frequently have declared that God appeared altogether more 
 glorious to them for being sin-hating and sin-avenging ; that 
 they were willing he should abide by his determination not to 
 have mercy on them or their friends, if they would not repent 
 and believe the gospel. One observed in confidence to a friend, 
 and without the appearance of ostentation, that she had been 
 so taken up all day in rejoicing in God's perfections and the 
 certain accomplishment of his glory, that she had scarcel}?- 
 thought of what would be her own destiny ; that she must 
 believe she reckoned more of his glory and the public good 
 than of her own happiness. Some declared that if they could 
 have their choice, either to live a life of religion and poverty, 
 or revel in the pleasures of the world, unmolested by conscience 
 or fear, and at last be converted on a dying bed, and be as 
 happy hereafter as if they had made the other choice, they 
 should prefer the former; and that, for the glory of God, and 
 not merely for the happiness which the prospects of future 
 glory would daily afford; for they believed their choice would 
 be the same, though in certain expectation that fears and con- 
 flicts would render a religious life less happy than a life of 
 sensuality. Their predominant desire still appears to be that 
 God may be glorified, and that they may render him volun- 
 tary glory in a life of obedience, and may enjoy him in a life 
 of communion with him. A prospect of the full attainment 
 of these ends is what appears to render the heavenly state the 
 object of their eager desire. Their admiration of Jesus Christ 
 seems most excited by his zeal to support his Father's law — a 
 law, the glories of which they appear distinctly though im- 
 perfectly to apprehend. The Bible is to them a new book. 
 Prayer seems their delight. Their hearts are peculiarly united 
 to the people of God. But the most observable part of their 
 character is a lovely appearance of meekness and humility. 
 Little of that presumptuous confidence, too much of which 
 has sometimes appeared in young professors, is observable in 
 them. Accordingly they have not that uninterrupted eleva- 
 tion of spirits which in the inexperienced is generally bottomed 
 on comparative ignorance of remaining corruption, and over- 
 
44 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 rating their attainments. Accustomed to discriminate between 
 true and false affections, they appear not to set to their account 
 so much of the " wood, hay and stubble," as perhaps some 
 have done. By reason of the views they have had of the de- 
 ceitfulness of their hearts, and the comparison and examina- 
 tion they have made to discover how near in appearance false 
 religion lies to the true, they have great diffidence and distrust 
 of themselves. A sense of their ill desert abides and increases 
 upon them after apparent renovation ; a considerable time pos- 
 terior to which, some have been heard to say, " I never had 
 an idea what a heart I had till this week." Each one seems 
 to apprehend his own depravity to be the greatest. They ap- 
 pear not to be calculating to bring God into debt by their new 
 obedience. A person not greatly indoctrinated, but lovely in 
 the charms of child-like simphcity, was heard to say, " I will 
 tell you, sir, what appears to me would be exactly right. It 
 would be exactly right for me to live thirty or forty years in the 
 world without ever sinning again, and be serving God all the 
 time ; and then it would be just right for me to be sent to hell 
 for what I have already done." The hopeful subjects of the 
 work as yet exhibit " fruits meet for repentance." Some we 
 have had opportunity to see under the pressure of heavy afflic- 
 tions ; who have seemed calmly to acquiesce in the dispensa- 
 tions of providence. 
 
 In giving the foregoing description, special care has been 
 taken not to paint an ideal image of what they ought to 6e, 
 but scrupulously to delineate the views and exercises which 
 they have really expressed. In these views and exercises they 
 have, however, circumstantially differed ; some having been 
 first and chiefly affected with the beauty of the divine law ; 
 others, with the glories and all-sufficiency of Jesus Christ; 
 others, with the divine perfections generally ; others, and per- 
 haps the greatest number, with the fitness of divine sovereign- 
 ty. Some have been for a great while, others, a much shorter 
 time, under trouble of mind. One man in advanced life, who 
 had lately been only a little more thoughtful than common, 
 in this state retired to rest, and was suddenly seized with pow- 
 
NEW-HARTFORD. 45 
 
 erful and very distinct convictions of truth, and in the judg- 
 ment of charity, ahnost immediately passed to uncommonly 
 clear exercises of love to God and his kingdom. 
 
 With the gift of grace, some have received an uncommon 
 gift of prayer. A man who formerly had not been disposed to 
 give much credit to religion, falling into a conference of young 
 people one evening, and hearing a prayer made by an illite- 
 rate youth, was much surprised and even convinced ; and af- 
 terwards observed, that he was satisfied such a prayer could 
 not, a few months before, have possibly dropt from those lips. 
 
 It is believed that the outlines of this narrative, eqvially de- 
 scribe the features and fruits of this extensive, (and may we 
 not add, genuine and remarkably pure) work, in at least fifty 
 or sixty adjacent congregations. It is proposed shortly to give 
 you a more entire picture of it, as it relates to this place ; till 
 then, 1 am, &c. 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 New-Hartford, Avg. 1800. 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 In pursuance of the design suggested in the close of my last, 
 the narrative, which was then left unfinished, will now be re- 
 sumed. 
 
 The late attention of our state legislature to schools, has 
 led the way to important benefits to children, as well in this 
 as in many other towns. In consequence of the new arrange- 
 ments, school-masters of serious minds have been employed, 
 who have entered in earnest upon instructing the children in 
 the principles of religion, and praying with them. The effect 
 has been, that many schools have been awakened, and as we 
 have good reason to conclude, have received lasting benefits. 
 Three of the schools in this town were last winter under the 
 care of men professedly pious, and very faithful in imparting 
 these instructions. Out of these nearly twenty children, in 
 the course of the winter, it is hoped, were introduced into 
 " marvellous light." The knowledge possessed by such as we 
 hope have been savingly enlightened by the Divine Spirit, is 
 worthy of particular observation. Important ideas and distinc- 
 
46 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 tions, which it has been attempted in vain to give to others of 
 of their age, appear familiar to ihetn. One lad in particular, 
 in a certain interview which was had with him, discriminated 
 between true and false affections, and stated the grounds of 
 his hopes and fears in a manner very surprising and affecting. 
 It was the more so, because the evening before an attempt 
 had been made with children of the same age and neighbor- 
 hood, and of equal abilities and opportunity ; and it had seem- 
 ed like " ploughing on a rock ;" insomuch that the hope was 
 almost relinquished of ever being able to introduce discriminat- 
 ing ideas into minds so young. It would be ungrateful not 
 to acknowledge that in a remarkable manner it hath pleased 
 the Most High, " out of the mouths of babes and suckhngs to 
 perfect praise." 
 
 It is hoped that about fifty heads of families have been the 
 subjects of this work ; a considerable part of whom rank 
 among the most respectable and influential characters in the 
 town. This, however, gives the young no just encourage- 
 ment to hazard their salvation on the chance of being called 
 in at "the eleventh hour." Had they seen the anguish of 
 some of these for neglecting so long the great business of life, 
 it might discourage such neglect in them. Penetrated with 
 remorse for the waste of life, and for the lax examples by 
 which they supposed they had corrupted others, they seemed 
 to conclude it was probably too late for tliem to find mercy ; 
 yet were anxious to disburden their conscience of one torment, 
 by solemnly warning the youth not to follow their steps. " We 
 are soon going," said they, " to receive the reward of wasted 
 hfe ; and we warn you to proceed no further in search of a 
 more convenient time to prepare for death. We have been 
 over the ground between you and us, and this ' more conve- 
 nient season' does not lie before you. O that we could be 
 placed back to your age, for then we might have hope. If 
 you did but know and feel as we do the value of youth, you 
 would surely better improve it." In language of this import 
 have they been frequently heard to vent themselves, while de- 
 spair and anguish seemed settled on every feature ; all which, 
 
NEW-HARTFORD. 47 
 
 united, produced sensations in the afTected hearers not easily 
 described. 
 
 The power of the Ahiiighty Spirit has prostrated the stout- 
 ness of a considerable number, who were the last that human 
 expectation would have fixed on to be the subjects of such a 
 change. One man who lives at a distance from the sanctu- 
 ary, and who perhaps seldom, if ever, visited it in his life ; 
 and who, as might be expected, was extremely ignorant and 
 stupid ; has been visited in his own house, and in the view of 
 charity, brought into the kingdom. His. heart seems now for 
 the first time to be towards the sanctuary, though ill health pre- 
 vents him from enjoying the blessings and privileges of it. 
 Another old man in the same neighborhood, who had not 
 been into our house of worship, and probably not into any 
 other, for more than twenty years, has been arrested, in his 
 retirement, by the Divine Spirit, and still remains " like the 
 troubled sea when it cannot rest." 
 
 It has been a remarkable season for the destruction of false 
 hopes. Nearly twenty of those who have lately appeared to 
 build " on the rock," have been plucked off from the sandy 
 foundation. As a caution to others, it may perhaps not be im- 
 proper briefly to state the previous situation of some of these. 
 One had supposed tliat she loved the God of Providence be- 
 cause she had some sense of his daily kindness to her and bet 
 family. She was the one mentioned in my former letter, who 
 was brought to see and acknowledge that she hated the real 
 character of God with all her heart. Another, having been 
 brought up in gay life, was also very ignorant of the essential 
 nature of true religion, insensible of the deceitfulness of her 
 heart, and in full confidence of her good estate. Another, ac- 
 customed to contemplate moral truth, in the light of a clear 
 and penetrating intellect, had mistaken the assent of the un- 
 derstanding for affections of the heart. Another had been the 
 subject of some exercises in early life, which had induced the 
 hope that he was within the embraces of the gracious cove- 
 nant. But he had become a worldling, and lived in the omis- 
 sion of family prayer. Still, while under his late conflicts, lie 
 
48 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 would reach back, and fasten anew on his former hope, 
 (which he had made Uttle account of in the days of his care- 
 lessness,) until the power of the Divine Spirit broke his hold. 
 Another had formerly rested her hope on some suggestion to 
 her mind, (somewhat Uke a voice,) assuring her in time of 
 sickness and anxiety, that her sins were forgiven. Another 
 had been introduced into a hoping state in a season of awa- 
 kening several years ago; since which, nothing special had 
 occurred as a ground of self distrust, except that she had 
 sometimes, for a considerable season, neglected prayer and 
 spiritual contemplations for worldly objects. Another was first 
 put upon suspecting and searching himself by finding in his 
 heart an undue appetite for the gaities and vanities of youth. 
 He had just returned from a party of pleasure when his con- 
 flict began. Another was the man mentioned in my former 
 letter, as having been so opposed to the sovereignty of God, in 
 the dispensation of his grace. The rest, for aught that ap- 
 peared, were as hopeful candidates for heaven as many pro- 
 fessors. From observing the effects which the light of God's 
 presence had upon false hopes, a trembling reflection arose, 
 " How many such hopes will probably be chased away by the 
 opening light of eternity !" The Lord seemed come to " search 
 Jerusalem with candles," and to find out those who were "set- 
 tled on their lees," The church felt the shock. No less than 
 three conversed with me in one week on the expediency of 
 withdrawing from the sacrament. That same presence which 
 at Sinai made all the church and even Moses, " exceedingly 
 fear and quake," rendered it now a time of trembling with 
 professors in general. Nevertheless it was, in respect to most 
 of them, a season of great quickening and a remarkable day 
 of prayer. Two persons have been for several months under 
 deep dejection, which at times bordered on despair ; one being 
 extremely weakened by ill health; the other having experi- 
 enced such dreadful heart-risings against God, as to be terrifi- 
 ed into the apprehension that her condemnation is sealed. 
 Some, after having had, so far as we can judge, a saving 
 change passed upon their hearts, have had seasons of thick 
 
NEW-HARTFORD. 49 
 
 darkness. One person, after the dawn of a joyful morning, 
 was for two or three months overshadowed with a cloud, and 
 by turns appeared in almost total despair, and notwithstanding 
 he had such apprehensions of guilt and danger that sleepless 
 and "wearisome nights" were "appointed" to him, yet he 
 verily thought, (to use his own frequent expression,) that he 
 tvas as stupid as the beasts, and that his stupidity was daily 
 increasing ; though to others it was evident that what he con- 
 sidered the increase of his stupidity, was only the increase of 
 his anxiety about it. In other instances, the enemy has at- 
 tempted to divert people from their anxiety with premature 
 hopes. 
 
 We have met with little or no open opposition to the work; 
 the corruptions of those who were not drawn into it having 
 been held in awe by a present God. It is apprehended there 
 has scarcely been a person in town of sufficient age for serious 
 thought who has not felt an unusual solemnity on his mind. 
 A general reformation of morals and sobriety of conduct are 
 observable through the town. Family prayer has been re- 
 markably revived. On the day of the general election of state 
 officers, (a day usually devoted to festivity,) the young peo- 
 ple of their own accord assembled in the sanctuary ; where, 
 b}^ their particular desire, a sermon was delivered to them: and 
 they went home generally agreed that one day spent in the 
 courts of the Lord was better than a thousand wasted in va- 
 nity. Upon the whole, it is a given point among the candid 
 that much good and no hurt has been produced by this reli- 
 gious revival, and that it would be a matter of exceeding joy 
 and gratitude, if such a revival should be extended through 
 the world. 
 
 In this work the Divine Spirit seems to have borne strong 
 testimony to the truth of those doctrines which are generally 
 embraced by our churches, and which are often distinguished 
 by the appellation of Calvinism. These doctrines appear to 
 have been " the sword of the spirit," by which sinners have 
 been "pricked in their hearts," and to have been "like as a fire 
 and like a hammer that brcaketh the rock in pieces." It is 
 
 Vol. I. 7 
 
60 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 under the weekly display of these that the work has been car 
 ried on in all our towns. These have been the truths which 
 the awakened have deeply felt, and these the prominent ob- 
 jects in view of which the young converts have been trans- 
 ported. The scenes which have been opened before us have 
 brought into view what to many is convincing evidence that 
 there is such a thing as experimental religion; and that mere 
 outward morality is not the qualification which fits the soul 
 for the enjoyment of God. People who before were of inof- 
 fensive conduct and of engaging social affections, have been 
 brought to see that their hearts were full of enmity to God ; 
 and now give charitable evidence of possessing tempers, to 
 which before they w^ere utter strangers. It may be added, 
 that some of the subjects of the work now acknowledge that 
 they lived many years in dependance on a moral life, (and 
 one of them, driven from this ground, tried to rest on the 
 scheme of Universalism;) but they are now brought to see 
 that they were " leaning on a broken reed," and no longer 
 rest on supposed innocence or good works, but on Him who 
 came to save the chief of sinners. I am, &c. 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 In the course of the year 1800 Mrs. Griffin's 
 health became so much impaired that her physicians 
 advised that she should be removed to a milder cli- 
 mate. In consequence of this, Mr. G. presented 
 to his congregation the alternative of either with- 
 drawing from his labors and relinquishing his sala- 
 ry till there should be time to make the necessary 
 experiment on Mrs. G's health, or of immediately 
 resigning his pastoral charge. The congregation 
 chose the former side of the alternative ; and ac- 
 cordingly, in the early part of October, he left 
 New-Hartford with Mrs. G. and travelled as far 
 south as New-Jersey. Having received an invita- 
 
NKVV-UAllTFORD. 51. 
 
 tioii from his friend, the Rev. Mr. (now Doctor) 
 HiLLYER, who at that time resided in Morris county, 
 to come and pass as much time with him as he 
 might find convenient, he availed himself of the 
 obliging invitation and remained with Mr. H. seve- 
 ral weeks. During this period he preached fre- 
 quently in the neighboring congregations, and was 
 every where listened to with the deepest interest. 
 About this time the church in Orange became va- 
 cant by the removal of the Rev. Mr. Chapman, and 
 Mr. Griffin was engaged to occupy the pulpit for 
 the winter. His preaching here was attended by 
 manifest tokens of the divine favor, and about fifty 
 were added to the church as the fruit of his labors. 
 The following letter to the Rev. Jeremiah Hal- 
 lock, dated "New-Jersey, Newark, (Orangedale) 
 March 3, 1801," describes the interesting state of 
 things which existed during his residence there : 
 
 Dear Brother — 
 
 I have been hoping for a private opportunity to transmit 
 a letter to you ; but not finding it, and being unable to wait 
 any longer, I sit down to write by mail. And I hope you 
 will be kind enough to do the same by me. 1 have been 
 waiting very impatiently for a letter from Mr. Mills, in answer to 
 the one which, at his request, I wrote him. 1 will thank you 
 to show him this letter, and give my love to him, and let him 
 know 1 am anxious to hear from hhn, as I shall be from you. 
 Give my love also to Mr. Miller, and all the rest of our dear 
 circle of ministers ; and let them know I shall consider it a 
 favor if they will write. I want to hear all about you — the 
 state of your monthly meetings — of rehgion — of all dear 
 friends — and particularly every thing about my church and 
 people, which you can possibly think of. Brother Washburn 
 writes that your circle love yet to pray, and that Jesus some- 
 
52 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 times comes iu the midst. I long to be with you. The sweet 
 days of other years, especially the beloved seasons on the well 
 known mountain, sometimes come on my mind, and almost 
 overwhelm me. 
 
 Those days are past, alas, to return again no more. You 
 know not how much I miss that precious and united brother- 
 hood of ministers. The ministers here are agreeable, friendly 
 and pious, but I have not prayed, and wept, and triumphed 
 with them. I shall never see such another circle. They 
 were my first love. Alas! can they be mine no more? Let 
 God ultimately decide this question; and let us submit. I 
 hope, one day, we shall all meet to part no more forever. 
 How transporting — how soothing will be that meeting after 
 the tedious lonely years of separation ! Oh when will it once 
 be! 
 
 " March 4th. I had written thus far last evening, when 1 
 was interrupted by some people who came in to converse about 
 religion. Oh my brother, with what words shall I acknow- 
 ledge the most wonderful goodness of God to a poor unworthy 
 sinner, who has trembled for fear that God was about to 
 thrust him out of the ministry, and employ him no more in 
 his glorious service. Contrary to all expectations, God has 
 given me the desire of my heart, and suffered me once more 
 to see his power and glory, so as we have together seen them 
 in the sanctuary. The God who appeared in the little school 
 house when it was proclaimed that Jesus of Nazareth was 
 passing by, — God of all our former revivals — hath in bound- 
 less mercy appeared in this place. In some neighboring places 
 he has been, for the winter and year past, displa3dng his glory. 
 Latterly he hath revived our hopes even here. 
 
 " The first encouraging appearance was a crowded and so- 
 lemn house on the Sabbath — next, we began to hear praying 
 people express their hopes and desires that God would appear 
 in his glory here. For two months the waters of the sanctua- 
 ry have been silently rising. The prayers and tears of God's 
 people have evinced the struggles and the longings of their 
 souls. Lately the secret and enkindling fire has broke out 
 
NEW-HARTPORD. 63 
 
 into a glorious flame. People who formerly used the language 
 of the Red Sea, and who have since for years, been buried up 
 in the world, now come forward to accuse themselves, and to 
 lament with tears over their neglects. Others, who have had 
 an indistinguishable hope for many years, are emerging into 
 clear and joyous light. The more confirmed and experienced 
 christians, who have waited long for the salvation of Israel, 
 are triumphing and praising, and some of the aged, crying 
 with Simeon, ' Now lettest thou thy servant depart,' &/C. In 
 other cases all hopes are shaken. Generally, the dry bones 
 tremble and quake ; and some few, we hope, begin to live. 
 A very great and increasing impression seems to rest on the 
 whole society. This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous 
 in our eyes. Some people who have not been to meeting for 
 ten or twenty years, are out, — attend with tears, and are 
 among the number of those that tremble. People come in 
 from abroad to behold the wonders of God, and go away 
 seemingly impressed. May this glorious work spread from 
 town to town, and from land to land, until the world shall be 
 deluged in a flood of glory, as the waters cover the sea. 
 
 Some alarming providences of God have greatly tended to 
 promote this work. And indeed, every feature of it proves it 
 to be a work of God, and not of man. And let God, and not 
 man, have all the glory. Accursed be the wretch who could 
 have the heart to pilfer it from him. I have not written half 
 enough, but my paper fails. We have two crowded conferen- 
 ces in a week, one lecture, one private prayer meeting, and I 
 am about to appoint a private conference for only the awaken- 
 ed. I have only room to add, that I am your ever afiectionate 
 brother, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 The congregation were desirous of giving him a 
 call, but he discouraged it on the ground that, if the 
 health of Mrs. G. would permit him to remain at 
 New-Hartford, he was unwilling to leave it for any 
 other place. The people of Newark, however, 
 
64 RESIDENCE AT NEW-HARTFORD. 
 
 without having previously communicated to him 
 their intention, actually made out a call for him to 
 settle as colleague with the venerable Doctor Mc- 
 Whorter. In June they returned to New-Hartford, 
 carrying with them an infant daughter, Frances 
 Louisa, who had been born during the period of 
 their sojourn at Orange. They returned, however, 
 only to make arrangements for an ultimate remo- 
 val ; for Mrs. G. had become so confirmed in the 
 opinion that a more southern climate was essential 
 to her health, that her husband could not doubt that 
 the providence of God pointed him to another field 
 of labor. Accordingly his pastoral relation to the 
 church at New-Hartford was dissolved by mutual 
 consent in August, though not without many severe 
 struggles on his part and the deepest regrets on the 
 part of his people. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 HIS FIRST RESIDENCE AT NEWARK. 
 
 Immediately after resigning his pastoral charge 
 at New-Hartford, Mr. Griffin returned with his 
 family to Newark, accepted the call which had pre- 
 viously been given him, and on the 20th of Octo- 
 ber, 1801, was installed Colleague Pastor with the 
 Rev. Dr. McWhorter. The congregation over 
 which he was placed was one of the largest and 
 most respectable in the United States ; qualified in 
 every respect to estimate the labors of a most elo- 
 quent, gifted and devoted minister. 
 
 For nearly three years from April 1799, Mr. G. 
 seems to have kept no record of his private reli- 
 gious exercises, owing probably, in a great mea- 
 sure to his having been, during a part of the time, 
 in an unsettled state, and for some time after he 
 went to Newark, greatly burdened with care. He 
 resumes his journal under date of January 30th, 
 1803, as follows : 
 
 Spent the last week on a preaching tour, in the neighbor- 
 ing congregations, where a glorious work of God's grace ap- 
 pears to be beginning. Have been deeply impressed of late, 
 with a conviction of a great mistake which I made in some 
 former revivals. My mother's children made me the keeper 
 
56 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 of their vineyard, but my own I did not keep. Being often 
 engaged in public prayers, I thought it was neither necessary 
 nor practicable to attend so much at large to the duties of the 
 closet. And when I preached or heard preaching, I was so 
 concerned for others, that I did not sufficiently apply the truth 
 to myself, and my prayers were so much upon others, that I 
 did not enough pray for the promotion of religion in my own 
 heart. The consequence was twofold : I got away from God, 
 and the duties of the closet have never been so faithfully at- 
 tended since ; and further, I was hfted up by divine favors, 
 and had need to be left to fall into sin to humble me. But 
 lately I have resolved more to seek the advancement of reli- 
 gion in myself, while I endeavor to promote it in others, and 
 have desired to be converted, and to catch the shower which 
 is faUing around me. Lord, while thou art converting sin- 
 ners and infidels, and giving thy people a fresh unction, I pray 
 that I may be the subject of these renewing influences, whe- 
 ther I have ever felt them before or not. I desire to consider 
 myself only as a needy sinner, and to put myself in the way 
 of these influences which are shed down upon others. O why 
 may I not be converted by them, as well as those around me? 
 February 5. I have just been reading a most admirable 
 piece, recommending the dispersion of religious tracts. The 
 writer possesses precisely those views of the superior impor- 
 tance of laboring for the soul, which 1 have generally had. 
 It has inflamed my desire to add the dispersion of such tracts 
 to my other attempts to promote (what I now hope I can say 
 is my favorite object) the salvation of men, the advancement 
 of that beloved cause which it cost the Saviour so much to 
 establish. O to employ every faculty during life, and to seize 
 every new measure to promote this object. To have pious 
 tracts to carry out with me when I walk or ride abroad, or 
 when I take a journey, — how would it tend to keep my heart, 
 to keep my eye, on the great end of life, and to increase my 
 usefulness. My soul swells at the prospect. O this is such a 
 life as I desire. I thank God for the new impression. I pray 
 that it may lead to great good. I pray that it may never sub- 
 
AT NEWARK. 57 
 
 side, but be increased, until it fixes me in the unalterable ha- 
 bit of striving for usefulness in this way. It is now in my 
 heart to endeavor to engage others in this measure. Lord, if 
 this impression is from thee, and is designed to lead to the pro- 
 motion of a religious tract society, O give me wisdom, smile 
 on the design, and open a way for its accomphshment, and 
 may this impression lead to the salvation of thousands. 
 
 February l^th. 1 have been set upon conversing more with 
 my family. I find it is the best, yes the very best, remedy 
 against my greatest dangers. If my soul were set on the sal- 
 vation of my house, probably salvation would come to them, 
 and we should have a little heaven below the skies. I most 
 earnestly desire thee, O God, whilst thou art making me the 
 instrument of good to others, to indulge me with the happi- 
 ness of seeing thy power rest upon my poor family. O why 
 may not we be sharers in thy salvation which is so profusely 
 bestowed on others ? 1 feel a strong desire, and see the neces- 
 sity, to support unremitted watchfulness, prayer and depen- 
 dance on the strength of Christ, and to commit my salvation 
 more into his hands. I think I feel more humble and depen- 
 dant, and more of a christian temper than for years past. I 
 clearly see that Christ can enable me to overcome temptation. 
 The keeping of the saints amidst their dangers and fears, is 
 by him who supports the mountains, and whose faithfulness 
 changes not. To him 1 commit myself, rejoicing. I see by 
 what wondrous measures he is now delivering me from my 
 enemies which were too strong for me. He will deUver and 
 make me a monument of his heaven-astonishing grace. 1 
 have been lately wishing to be taken up by some mighty pow- 
 er, and get forward at once very far in my journey, so as to 
 have little to do afterv/ards to arrive at perfect sanctification. 
 But this is a fruitless hope. I am enlisted in a warfare, and 
 every inch of ground must be taken sword in hand. Those 
 corruptions which are constitutional will live with me, and die 
 only with me. They will trouble me through life. The only 
 remedy is to live near to God. This alone is the water which 
 will quench the fire. The moment I get away from him. 
 
 Vol. I. 8 
 
58 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 they will always stantl ready to harrass me and drive me 
 back. Divine enjoyment, — spiritual pride, — falls, humiliation, 
 prayer, — elevation, — enjoyment, — pride, — falls, — humiliation, 
 &c. &c. must be my round through hfe, I have lately found 
 that I ought to turn my heart and soul more immediately to 
 Christ, and like others, (of whom I have lately read,) mourn 
 for the feebleness of my love to Christ. Could I rest more 
 on him, I might support habitual pleasant contemplations, 
 whicli render the mind more like God. I should then look 
 less on perplexities, and fix my eye less on my miserable de- 
 pravity, although I should not see it less. I have given up 
 my worldly matters into the hands of Christ, and while I am 
 caring for his interest, I see he is caring for mine. By some 
 merciful interpositions, I see he may be fully trusted for my 
 daily bread, and I think I can leave the rest with him. 
 
 If I know any thing of my heart, I am sure that I care 
 more for the success of my ministry than for any worldly in- 
 terest. And upon a review of my life, I must be confident 
 that the three strongest desires which have habitually influ- 
 enced me for years, are (1.) To be delivered from sin. O if this 
 could be, I could bear any thing, and be happy in poverty and 
 disgrace. (2.) To enjoy God. I think I surely long more for 
 this than riches or honors, and would give up every thing for 
 it. (3.) That God's kingdom may come. When I hear of any 
 appearance favorable to Zion, my heart is glad. I would 
 rather be an instrument in promoting this interest than to wear 
 laurels for learning, eloquence, &c. I think I have had and 
 daily have, fair opportunities to make the experiment. Since 
 I have been in this place, 1 am more than ever convinced that 
 I am spoiled for the world, that I cannot live on popular breath 
 or tlie estimation of the gay. I cannot live confined to their 
 society. The company of the pious, though poor, is far sweeter. 
 I must have the conscience of good people on the side of my 
 preaching, or all the applauses of the world are irksome and 
 terrifying to me. I must have christians for my companions, 
 and cannot live in the world. I know I have a dreadful body 
 of sin struggling within me. I know that pride has much 
 
AT NKWAKK. 59 
 
 influence in ni}- best public dulies, and has more influciice on 
 my deliberate and habitual conduct than any other wronc af- 
 fection ; but I think it does not govern. Still I ought to he 
 cautious. My zeal to propagate the truth may be a proud and 
 wilful desire to support my own sentiments. From the zeal 
 which appears in pohtics, and among the most corrupt sects 
 in the christian church, it is evident that this is one of the 
 most powerful principles of the natural heart. And when I 
 see the worshippers of Moloch flaming with zeal for their god, 
 and sacrificing their very children to him, my heart says, — 
 What zeal, what sacrifices, what willingness to resign up a 
 child to God, can I depend on as evidence of true rehgion ? 
 
 February 26ih. Yesterday I sensibly felt for a moment 
 what boldness and fortitude in jjreaching would result from 
 disinterested humility, that should be perfectly indifferent to 
 the good opinions of others as a personal honor ; and saw how 
 diflferent was the assurance of a self-confident spirit; and had 
 a glimpse of the principle which rendered the meek and hum- 
 ble Jesus so intrepid. 
 
 Monday, February 28th. Yesterday I went to the house 
 of God under a great sense of my own unworthiness, and 
 fearful of making attempts at eloquence, lest I should be in- 
 fluenced by pride. I endeavored to speak with all the simpli- 
 city and sincerity of one who had no regard to the opinions of 
 men, any farther than not to injure the cause of religion, and 
 I found myself much assisted, although I depended much on 
 extemporaneous exertion. I found a solemn sense of divine 
 things more beneficial, even to render my services acceptable, 
 than all the flourish of affected zeal and eloquence, l^et this 
 remove the objection, that if I should become unstudious to 
 please, I should lose my influence and degrade the gospel. 
 
 I have lately been so fearful of selfishness and pride that I 
 have scarcely dared to move. I now see that their motions 
 have been as constant as the palpitations of my heart, and 
 have exerted an uninterrupted influence on my external con- 
 duct, — sometimes to spur me forward to zeal in the line of 
 duty, sometimes to hold me back and to weaken my exer- 
 
60 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 tious, and sometimes to turn my feet aside from the right path. 
 Let me never again be blind to their motions, or be at a loss 
 when to find them in my heart. O how can I bear to live 
 with these filthy vipers in my bosom until I am fifty or sixty 
 years old ? But it must be, if I live at all. What can I do 
 but resist them with all the strength that God shall give me, 
 and take care that they are not suffered to shape or influence 
 my outward conduct? But of this I am sure, that I must not 
 omit or relax in a single duty, for fear of being influenced by 
 improper feelings. I must pursue my course and strive to pu- 
 rify my motives. 
 
 When I see those of whom I have formed the best opinion, 
 complaining and mourning for sin, saying that they view 
 themselves the greatest of sinners ; professing more readily 
 than any other grace, a deep sense that they deserve nothing 
 at the hands of God, that they have not the least dependance 
 on anything they have ever done, that they are willing to be 
 saved by mere mercy, and that God should take the credit of 
 their salvation to himself ; when I see them afraid of decep- 
 tion and jealous of themselves ; I am conscious that all this 
 is exactly my own habitual experience; but then I apprehend 
 that my consciousness of being unworthy arises, (not like 
 theirs, from a superior acquaintance with my own heart, but) 
 from the obviousness of my sins. When I hear a dying saint 
 say of her bodily pains, " These are nothing to the pains of 
 sin ;" my whole heart says Amen. With Mrs. Rowe I think 
 I can certainly and habitually say. If God should bid me form 
 a wish, and take whatever in heaven or earth I had to ask, it 
 should not be the wealth of this world, nor the crowns of 
 princes: no, nor yet the wreaths of martyrs nor thrones of 
 archangels: my first request is to be made holy: this is my 
 hisfhest concern. When I hear the most humble christians 
 declare that they have not the least hope of advancing one 
 foot in their course, any farther than they are carried by God, — 
 that they have no strength against one temptation — that they 
 shall do every thing that they are left to do, — that their only 
 hope for pardon, strength, and life, is in God ; I know that I 
 
AT NEWARK. 61 
 
 habitually feel the same : Yet I fear that conscience may do 
 all this. When I heard an eminent saint to-day declare that 
 the days of her affliction had been the sweetest days of her 
 life, I knew that I could say the same ; and then my soul re- 
 plied, What is it that can have made my afflictions so happy, 
 if I had not true religion 1 My soul trusted ia God that he 
 would do right, and would protect me as far as it w^as best, and 
 make the trials work for my good; and I felt a delight in com- 
 mitting the case to him, leaning on, and communing with 
 him. Could all this arise from the mistaken supposition that 
 he was my friend ? But yet, if I love him, why do I not 
 keep his commandments 1 
 
 How impudent is sin ! It would lead one on to commit the 
 most daring crimes when conscience testifies that God is look- 
 ing on, and would deliberately rush upon the thick bosses of 
 his buckler. When it acts in an Atheist, it does not appear 
 so impudent, as when it shows all its airs by the very side of 
 an awakened conscience. In christians its awful impudence 
 appears to the greatest advantage ; which probably was one 
 reason that such a body of sin was left to abide and work in 
 sanctified hearts. Here it discovers its true nature, and shows 
 itself to be as impudent as hell. 
 
 March 12th. A great sinner I am, and I have a great sense 
 of it; but is it anything more than conscience? Could I so 
 conduct myself if I had religion? And without it conscience 
 would not sleep in a man in my station, and studies, and living 
 in an awakening. But if I have a sanctified part within me, 
 I have amazingly strong corruptions too. Yet if I have not 
 a sanctified part, what mean these exercises? The other day, 
 under an exquisite sense of sin, I clearly felt that all that I 
 could do coidd, in the nature of things, have no tendency to 
 atone for the least sin. I believe the feeling is habitual, and 
 that I am not erecting a superstructure of self-righteousness. 
 To-day the feeling returned, and while I was thinking what 
 sacrifice I would be willing to make to escape the dominion of 
 sin, I forgot myself, and turned in my mind what I would 
 be wilhng to suffer to atone for what is past. But I was awa- 
 
62 B'IRST RESIDENCE 
 
 kened out of my reverie by the disgust which arose from such 
 a thought ; a disgust which I did not artificially raise ; for my 
 reasoning powers were so absent, (I not being in self-exami- 
 nation, but borne down under a sense of sin,) that I pursued 
 the thought as though I expected to find pleasure in it. I felt 
 that all the atonement that I could make (accepted or not ac- 
 cepted) was insipid, and had no relish with my soul. It was 
 free grace that I wanted. If I know my heart, I am willing 
 to receive mercy, and on God's own terms. My heart is sub- 
 missive and pliable. I would come to any terms which God 
 should appoint. I think I certainly desire, above all things of 
 a personal nature^ pardon by the mercy of God in Christ, — 
 strength, and assurance of strength to carry me through my 
 warfare, (the thought of being strengthened and loved by a 
 lovely, all-sufficient Saviour, how sweet!) and a complete de- 
 liverance fi-om sin ; or if I must still sin, that it may be the 
 means of humbhng me, making me more circumspect, and 
 exalting the riches of free, astonishing grace. I have, in a 
 lecture, been studying to discriminate between true and false 
 repentance; and have inquired, (I.) Is your sense of sin con- 
 nected with a sense of the purity, holiness, and justice of God? 
 My heart replied. Yes, as I wish not to make any alteration 
 in Him. I wish him not to be less an enemy to my sins; but 
 
 for pardon and strength. (2.) Have you much anxiety for 
 the sins of your heart, as well as conduct ; setting a guard 
 over small sins which are invisible to the world? Certainly, 
 
 1 have lately, as is evident from my late journal. (3.) Does 
 your repentance produce actual renunciation of sin ; making 
 you resolute not to spare any sin, even those which may con- 
 duce most to present advantage? Does it render you meek, 
 gentle, and humble, easy to be entreated, full of mercy and 
 good fruits ? Here I pause. — I cannot answer in the affirma- 
 tive to all this. I think there is no favorite sin that I would 
 wish to retain, whatever the renunciation of it would cost me ; 
 and that there is no duty which I would wilUngly neglect 
 whatever be the sacrifice or labor, or immediate consequence 
 to me. I feel gentle, submissive, and broken — But ah ! my 
 
AT NEWARK. 63 
 
 strong corruptions. When I would do good, evil is present 
 with me : and what I would not that do I. O wretched man 
 that I am ! 
 
 Have been reading my journal. How solemn the review of 
 past years ! What an awful examination shall I sustain when 
 all the sins of my life shall be collected together, and an ac- 
 count taken of them. Black has been my life ; I need seas 
 of blood to wash me clean. Egypt never was darker. Aw- 
 ful ! awful ! God be merciful to me a sinner ! By my jour- 
 nal I was much struck with the distresses which sin has caus- 
 ed me through so many years. O let it not be suffered so to 
 disturb my peace again, and turn my years into years of hell. 
 Jf I have any wisdom I shall be taught with the briers and 
 thorns of former days. In reading this moment the 88th 
 Psalm, I perceived that good men have gone through dread- 
 ful scenes ; and I could say with Henian, " I am afflicted and 
 ready to die from my youth up ; while I suffer thy terrors I 
 am distracted." A momentary sweetness passed through my 
 mind, while in his language I plead, '' Shall thy loving kind- 
 red be declared in the grave, or thy faithfulness in destruc- 
 tion ? Shall thy wonders be known in the dark," &c. In 
 the darkness and distress which I felt about leaving New- 
 Hartford, and amidst the apprehension, (like that of Jonah, 
 whose sins I imitated,) " I am cast out of thy sight," the 
 Lord was at work beyond the bounds of my sight to prepare 
 this station of usefulness and happiness for me. This is fact. 
 I see, therefore, that it may be the case, thai amidst my pre- 
 sent darkness, he is preparing for me joys for following years, 
 and a pleasant habitation forever. 
 
 [Written January 9th, 1830.] A scene which took place in 
 the forenoon of March 14th, 1803, I have never forgotten. 
 As I was walking the streets of Newark, pondering upon my 
 sins, a flash of light came across my mind, sending home a 
 conviction of sin, which instantly deprived me of hope. I do 
 not know that I could be more sure of being in an unregene- 
 rated state if I were in hell. The following dialogue then 
 took place with myself : " Well, go to Christ, as you direct 
 
64 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 Other sinners to do." " But he is away beyond the hills, and 1 
 cannot get to him." " Well, ask God to bring you to him." 
 " But the prayers of the unregenerate cannot ascend above the 
 clouds. I have nothing to stand upon to begin." I felt then 
 totally undone, — helpless and hopeless. I died then, as Paul 
 did on the plains of Damascus. Instantly the scene changed. 
 " Well, if that God who, self-moved, let down a hand to pluck 
 Abraham and David from a state of unregeneracy, self-moved 
 shall let down a hand to pluck me from destruction, I live ; 
 otherwise I die." I was composed in a moment, and seemed 
 to lie down at his feet, and rest every issue on his will, with- 
 out a struggle. And had the words of the leper been in my 
 mind, (Mat. viii. 2,) "Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make 
 me clean," they would have exactly expressed my feelings ; 
 they would have expressed precisely all the hope I had. Was 
 not this a casting of myself entirely on the sovereign mercy of 
 God 1 Was not this resting every hope, tranquilly, upon his 
 sovereign will 1 This I have learnt from the reflections of 
 near seven and twenty years, to call the dernier resort. 
 
 In that spot, at God's feet, without asking him what he 
 would do with me, I chose to lie, contented to have his will 
 done, and fearing to know the result, lest, if it should prove 
 favorable, (which betrayed a secret hope,) I should be proud. 
 Thus I continued through Monday and Tuesday. But out 
 of that death and submission arose the life and light that fol- 
 lowed ; just as in the case of the first death and resurrection 
 of the sinner, his death to all hope, (Romans, viii. 9,) and 
 his resurrection to hope in Christ. 
 
 The week that followed changed the whole character of my 
 experiences and preaching, and made them permanently more 
 fuU of Christ. 
 
 Monday, March 14^^. I set out on a preaching tour among 
 the neighboring congregations ; and the Lord, both on this 
 and former tours, has bestowed the greatest personal blessings 
 on me, while I have been laboring for him. On Monday and 
 Tuesday I allowed not myself to hope that I was a Christian, 
 put myself in the attitude of an awakened sinner, applying 
 
AT NEWARK. 65 
 
 the sermons which I heard addressed to sinners to myself; 
 pleaded for an interest in Christ ; felt a tender conscience ; 
 was very fearful of pride and every movement of animal affec- 
 tion, which should lessen a sense of my ruined condition and 
 total dependance on sovereign mercy ; felt most happy in this 
 state of mind ; felt uncomfortable, when for a moment I lost a 
 sense of my straits and necessities, and coveted the pleasure of 
 lying, all my life, at the feet of God, trembling in uncertainty, 
 that I might enjoy a sense of dependance, and feel after a pre- 
 cious Saviour. I had for some weeks been much in the same 
 frame, and had fully felt that I was utterly in the hands of a 
 sovereign God ; that if he should not renew me, I should 
 perish ; that if he should not be disposed to give me an interest 
 in Christ, all exertion could not move him to it, and that my 
 eternal life hung suspended on his mere pleasure. I longed 
 after deUverance from sin ; longed to be made holy by the in- 
 fluences which are descending around me ; but dreaded flights 
 of joy, lest they should raise me from my proper place. All 
 these exercises had been very distinct. Monday I was at 
 Springfield, and Tuesday at Bottlehill ; accompanied on the 
 tour by Mr. Thompson. Mr. Richards met me at Bottlehill, 
 and staid all night with me. In the evening we discoursed 
 largely on the subject of christian experience; I proposing 
 questions for him to solve respecting the decisiveness or indeci- 
 siveness of sundry marks of piety. I expressed to him my 
 doubts of my own religion. I complained that I had always 
 found it difficult realizingly to feel that I deserved eternal 
 punishment. He said that christians obtained this sense by 
 seeing that God is so unspeakably lovely, that no conceivable 
 punishment is great enough for sinning against him ; that he 
 had seen God's holiness, purity and justice to be so glorious,, 
 that it appeared if men should never commit an outward sin, 
 they would deserve to be eternally damned for not loving him. 
 While he was conversing, I thought I had some glimpse of 
 the excellent purity, grandeur, avvfulness, and sweetness of 
 divine holiness ; and saw that I had been searching for the 
 door of deUverance, on the wrong side of the room, in seeking 
 Vol. 1. 9 
 
G6 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 a sense of the evil of sin from examining what I had done 
 rather than what God is. I was convinced that a view of the 
 purity of God would best discover the awful nature of sin, and 
 would be most effectual to produce true and deep repentance, 
 self-loathing and actual renunciation of sin ; and my heart 
 said, " O for such views of God forever !" I mentioned ano- 
 ther prime difficulty that I had always felt. viz. to apprehend 
 Christ as bearing my sins, and being a proper substitute for 
 me. I stated what efforts my reason had made to examine 
 the nature and end of the atonement, and to obtain this ap- 
 prehension. He observed that common christians could not 
 go into this critical examination of the atonement, — that with 
 them all was a matter of mere faith and reUance on the pro- 
 mise and oath of God to accept the sacrifice of Christ as a sub- 
 stitute for them ; and that from a sense of the value of Christ's 
 personal character, and consequently of his blood, they felt it 
 proper that his death should be accepted as a full atonement 
 for them. I was convinced that I had been substituting rea- 
 son for faith, that I ought to yield more implicit belief to the 
 testimony which God had given of his Son, to look with a be- 
 lieving eye on those precise aspects which his priesthood as- 
 sumes in the first Epistle to the Hebrews, rather than on my 
 own systematical reasonings, and that a failure here had been 
 my great mistake, by means of which I had been so long des- 
 titute of an adequate sense of Christ as my substitute. O for 
 more faith and less of the pride of reason ! O for the meek- 
 ness, and if I may so say, the passiveness of faith, to submit 
 to the righteousness of God ! He disclosed to me a distressing 
 conflict which he formerly had had on this point; which sub- 
 sided in consequence of a transporting contemplation of Heb. 
 vii. 26 : " For such a High Priest became us, who is holy, 
 harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners, and made higher 
 than the heavens." As soon as these words were mentioned, 
 they appeared transparent, and to contain within them all that 
 I wanted, if I could only break the glass, and get at the trea- 
 sure. With these feelings I retired to sleep. 
 
AT NEWARK. 67 
 
 When I awoke, that glorious High Priest was before me, 
 just as he is expressed in Heb. vii. 26. 
 
 Wednesdaij morning, 16ih. Having noted down the par- 
 ticulars of last evening, coloring them no doubt with the views 
 I had this morning, I then proceeded in my diary thus. Read 
 the context to the verse which was repeated last evening. O 
 what emphasis does Paul, throughout this Epistle, lay upon 
 the priesthood of Christ: — Much more than I have done in 
 my experiences, which have been more concerned with the di- 
 vine government, law, &c. This morning I have felt that 
 there is a ponderous reahty in the priesthood of Christ, and 
 that it is a great honor to the holiness of God that no sinner 
 can be admitted to him, but by the sacrifice of our High 
 Priest. My heart has been moved and delighted with a sense 
 of his priesthood. There is much more reality in it than I 
 have hitherto discovered; — a reality which I am now con- 
 vinced that neither flesh and blood, nor any reasonings can 
 reveal. I begin to think that when saints get to Heaven 
 much of their happiness and astonishment will arise from 
 views which they will wonder that they had not possessed be- 
 fore, as they will be views of that glorious scheme of salva- 
 tion which had been revealed. I now perceive why many 
 evangelical ministers have in their preaching drawn the great- 
 est motives to love and obedience from the cross of Christ. 
 My soul has some melting sense of the blessed High Priest, 
 the way of access to the awful majesty of divine purity, — or 
 rather, the Vv'ay into the holy of holies; for I feel that the ex- 
 pressions made by the Holy Ghost, in the Epistle (o the He- 
 brews, are best adapted to convey the idea to our weak ap- 
 prehension. O for clearer views of the priesthood of Christ! 
 O for more faith, and less dependance on reason ! These new 
 views, were they clear enough, would, I perceive, be ravish- 
 ing, and would be the best preservatives from sin. Let me 
 not seek darkness, (under the notion that ravishing discove- 
 ries would raise me up to cast me down) as a guard against 
 sin. This light is the only thing that will purify the heart. 
 It is the cross of Christ, seen and felt, that must crucify sin. 
 
68 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 for these views ! Let this be my search and prayer this day 
 and forever. I am resolved to attend more to the Epistle to 
 the Hebrews, and will try to drink from the fountain, — to take 
 in the precise representations of the Holy Ghost, and not con- 
 fine myself to artificial and systematic views of my own. 
 This has been my great mistake. The Scriptures are admi- 
 rably adapted to the weakness of our apprehensions. I am 
 convinced that christians generally have much more sense of 
 the priesthood of Christ than I have had ; and hence this sub- 
 ject, (which ought to have been so conspicuous and frequently 
 urged,) has been so awfully overlooked in my preaching. It 
 has been a just complaint that there was not enough of Christ 
 in my sermons. And when I have spoken of the atonement 
 it has been in a clumsy, systematic way, in which the most 
 charming views of it have been passed by. What I have 
 said on this subject has been the stiff and frigid statement of 
 one devoid (in a great measure at least,) of spiritual discern- 
 ment. Before the majesty of this spiritual truth, how do the 
 little arts of seizing the passions by loosely, lightly, and I had 
 almost said profanely, talking of Christ's scars and sighs, bow 
 and flee away. In how unhallowed a manner have I treated 
 this infinitely dignified, this holy and heavenly theme ! I now 
 perceive that self-righteousness may be chiefly if not wholly 
 renounced, without any proper faith in the priesthood of Christ, 
 (for I believe I had mostly renounced it before,) and for aught 
 
 1 know, without any true religion. There will be no self- 
 righteousness in hell. And I know not but a sinner may be 
 so enlightened on earth as to renounce it. He may undoubt- 
 edly like the damned be convinced that he deserves misery and 
 no favor ; and what is this but a renunciation of self-righteous- 
 ness? If it be asked, what then keeps him from despair? I 
 answer a hope that mercy may yet be extended to him by a 
 sovereign God. If it be asked, why does he pray and use 
 means ? I answer, because he rightly believes, that in this 
 way he is more likely to receive saving light, though he is too 
 much enlightened to suppose his duties will purchase any fa- 
 vor. I am convinced at least, that all these secondary signs 
 
AT NEWARK. 69 
 
 of religion fail of satisfying the enlightened and jealous mind ; 
 that nothing can satisfy but a direct and clear view of God 
 and Christ. O let my mind be filled, be purified, be happy in 
 these views! This will be the peace which passeth under- 
 standing. This, compared to a confinement of views to my 
 sinful self, will be what manhood is to infancy. I would 
 leave the first principles and go on to perfection. By my sins 
 I have been kept a babe, if I be any thing. If I have any, I 
 have but very little religion. 
 
 During my journey to Turkey, the same day, I could think 
 of nothing with pleasure but this sweet and glorious text ; and 
 when the sense of it was a little abated, I was enabled repeat- 
 edly to renew it, by thinking for a moment of the holiness of 
 God, and my own impurity ; and then I could again sweetly 
 say, " Such a High Priest became us," &c. During Mr. 
 Thompson's sermon from the words, " The soul that sinneth, 
 it shall die," my mind was solemnly fixed in a view of the 
 reahty of all he said, in a view, clearer than ever before of the 
 holiness of God, — the evil and ingratitude of sin as against 
 the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, and the need of this blessed 
 High Priest, and his love in undertaking and dying for men. 
 And when 1 came to speak after his sermon, I was affected, 
 spoke with simplicity and feeling on these points; informed the 
 people that I could not convey the sense I had of the holiness 
 of God and the glorious mystery of this High Priest: that 
 flesh and blood, I was sure, could not reveal it to them. I 
 could not bear that any should lose so much as to lose this 
 precious Saviour, and affectionately invited, and urged all to 
 come to him. Although I took no pains to speak, and was 
 only struggling in vain to get out the sense of these things 
 which was in my mind, the people were melted under the dis- 
 course. My exercises this day will be more discovered in what 
 I wrote next morning. 
 
 Thursday mornings March \7th. " Lord I believe ; help 
 thou my unbelief." I find that my sense of the atonement 
 which depended on former reasonings, was not the true sense: 
 this flesh and blood cannot reveal ; and the only way in which 
 
?0 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 God reveals it is by exciting faith. We may reason on the 
 fitness of the atonement; and after all, the true sense of it 
 comes only by implicit belief of the heart, in the word and 
 oath by which Jesus was constituted and declared the High 
 Priest of the world. God has declared, (and the victim was 
 so precious that it was proper for him so to do,) that he will 
 accept this sacrifice for men, and we must believe him, and 
 must expect to discover the reality and glory of the atonement 
 by faith, and not by speculation. 
 
 Yesterday was a great day with my soul. I had very dis- 
 tinct views of the purity and holiness of God, of the way of 
 access to him by Christ, and of the preciousness of our great 
 High Priest ; insomuch that in my public exhortation I could 
 dwell on no other subject. I longed to recommend this holy 
 God and this blessed Saviour to the people, who seemed affect- 
 ed by the representation, as being a representation of great 
 things. After divine service I told brother Thompson that if 
 these views, so new, of those great truths which are the es- 
 sence and pith of all divine truth, and on which my mind had 
 always labored with so much darkness, should continue, and 
 my mind should remain so different from what it had ever 
 been, and if I should, under the power of these truths, lead a 
 new life, I should almost conclude that I never experienced 
 the new birth before. When Mr. Thompson was preaching 
 and praying, and making so much account of an opportunity 
 afforded us to escape from ruin, I thought he was, (and saw 
 that I had been, in my preaching and praying,) too selfish. 
 I wanted he should make more account of the opportunity 
 afforded us to worship, adore, and honor God and Christ, and 
 my heart refused to follow him in prayer, and turned off to 
 these subjects ; feeling that an opportunity to worship God 
 was the chief consideration which should excite gratitude. 
 During the day I could think of Christ, and rejoice in him 
 without sensible exaltation and pride ; a thing perhaps un- 
 known to me before. I felt that it was reasonable I should 
 devote my life wholly to him, and that I was not my own but 
 bought with a price. Sin appeared exceeding sinful, as being 
 
AT NEWARK. 71 
 
 against God and Christ, and derived all its evil from this cir- 
 cumstance. I perceived that I had been mistaken in suppos- 
 ing that a direct view of myself and my sins w^ould be the 
 most effectual guard against sin. From the effect which a 
 present sense of the love and priesthood of Christ had upon 
 my mind, I was certain that these views would prove the 
 surest death of sin ; that it was the cross of Christ that must 
 crucify it. Now I resolved to seek for these views of him in 
 order to conquer. Formerly I felt that God and Christ were 
 set in opposition to each other, and was in danger of conceiv- 
 ing of Christ as taking our part, and of God as being against 
 us. But now they appeared to be wonderfully united. It 
 seemed that in all that the Son had done to introduce sinners 
 to God, he was cheerfully honoring the divine holiness; 
 which seemed to be greatly honored, in that sinners are not 
 suffered to approach God but through the blood of the High 
 Priest; that the Father in his readiness to send his Son into 
 the world, and then to receive sinners through him, had as 
 much love for men as had the Son ; that Christ was not tak- 
 ing the part of man against holiness, and that the Father was 
 ready to take the part of man in a way consistent with holi- 
 ness, being as willing to receive sinners through his Son, as 
 his Son was to be the medium and intercessor ; and that it 
 was out of regard to the holiness of God that the Son is the 
 High Priest to bring sinners near to him. There appeared a 
 perfect harmony, and no difference, between them. I adored, 
 delighted jn, and was humbled before, this plan of salvation. 
 I saw it ; I saw it wonderful and glorious, — just as I wished 
 to have it, I wished to approach God and be saved only in 
 this way. I wished not to have my part taken, only as the 
 part of holiness was taken by the same means. This disco- 
 very of the holiness of God, and the blessed High Priest, was 
 like a sun to cast light all around. Every part of truth open- 
 ed to view, — such as the common mercies of God, — the love 
 of God and Christ, — obligations to universal hoUness, — ingra- 
 titude, sin, &-C. I could not bear ever to sin again. I felt 
 humble, meek, gentle, kindly affectioned towards men, indif- 
 
73 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 ferent to the opinions of the world, to honors, distinctions, 
 riches, and desired nothing but clearer views of God and Christ, 
 and to serve, glorify, and enjoy him. These feelings were 
 not wrought up by pains : I seemed only to lie still and re- 
 ceive them. They were not excited by calling in aid the ani- 
 mal affections ; these lay uncommonly still. The view was 
 spiritual, still, humbling, purifying, abstracting from the world, 
 and silencing to selfishness, pride, and every evil passion. All 
 was silent wonder and complacency. Yet all the time, though 
 happy, affected, and wondering, I was sensible that I had only 
 a faint glimpse of the glories of God and Christ, and felt guilty 
 that I saw no more. That blessed verse run in my mind, and 
 burst forth in every prayer, exhortation, and private discourse. 
 When I, for a moment, lost a sense of the beauty of the plan 
 of grace, I would reflect, " For such a High Priest became us 
 who was holy." The holiness of the High Priest (which was 
 the thing most sweetly affecting to my soul, as it showed me 
 that there was one, polluted as I am, which a holy God could 
 accept for me,) would revive a deep sense of my own impu- 
 rity, the purity of God, and the consistency of the plan of 
 grace. I feared to lose these views, — views of the very thing 
 which I had long desired to see. I wanted more of them. I 
 feared hypocritical worship, and every thing but meekness, 
 sincerity, love, adoration, faith, and gratitude. In the even- 
 ing, at my lodgings, I could not but recommend this blessed 
 Saviour to the youth of the family. I clearly saw, what I 
 never so saw before, that he was a perfect medium of access 
 to God for a whole world, — that all might come to God by 
 him. In my bed-chamber, in secret prayer, all these views 
 were perhaps more clear than ever. I felt that I might be 
 saved, — that I was brought near to a pure God by this High 
 Priest, and saw how I could approach God and be saved by 
 him. It was easier to reahze this great truth, (which had al- 
 ways been the most difficult of apprehension,) than any thing 
 else. I felt that I could not pay any thing in return. It was 
 all free, rich, astonishing grace, I was an eternal bankrupt, 
 overwhelmed with obligation. In the light of these discove- 
 
AT NEWARK. 73 
 
 riesj all the common mercies of my life swelled to an amazing 
 size. I wanted and longed that my wife, child, sister, father, 
 and all my friends, and all the world, should see, adore, and 
 enjoy this Saviour. I felt hke one who had found a great 
 treasure, and wished to have all know of it, and share it. I 
 felt that I certainly did take firm hold of the great High 
 Priest, — that it was clearly a right hold, — that there was not 
 a phantom in my embrace, but the very High Priest whom 
 Paul recommended to the Hebrews. He appeared a solid rock 
 on which I certainly stood firm. I had even then no excitement 
 of animal affections. All was still, solid and real ; and for the 
 jfirst time I lay down quietly on my bed in the full assurance 
 of hope ; not a single doubt of my salvation remaining. Oh 
 what a blessed change in twenty-four hours! This is a bless- 
 ed morning. How trifling is learning, fame, every thing, to 
 these discoveries of Christ ! I feel willing to suffer labor, fa- 
 tigue, shame, contempt, and even death for this glorious Re- 
 deemer. O give me this hfe of communion with him, and 1 
 desire no more ! Never did I before make this aspiration with 
 half so much solid reality of desire. Every thing appears 
 like filthy trash to this. All the Bible, all truth opens, and 
 appears solid, weighty, and glorious. Turn which way I will, 
 light shines around me, — on every contemplation — every truth. 
 
 Lord give me faith and keep me humble ! To think that 
 after so many and so great sins and abuses of privileges, he 
 should reveal himself to me ! To think that he should from 
 eternity ordain me to everlasting hfe! Why me? Why me? 
 
 1 am astonished. I am sweetly overwhelmed and swallow- 
 ed up. 
 
 The state of my mind, the rest of the day and evening, 
 will appear from the short record which I made next morning. 
 
 Friday morning, ISth, Baskingridge. Was affected yes- 
 terday when I entered the house of God at Baskingridge, and 
 saw the crowded seats, and solemn countenances. The place 
 was awful, for God was there. I was much affected in prayer 
 \\dth a sense of Christ, and wept ; — was enabled to plead with 
 him. Mr. Thompson having read a most precious hymn of 
 
 Vol. I. 10 
 
74 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 jjiaise to Christ, I could not help speaking a word to the peo- 
 ple before they sung it, praying them not to trifle with such 
 precious words and lose such a heavenly treasure. In every 
 prayer through the day and evening, and almost in every in- 
 dividual petition, I had a distinct sense that God was too holy 
 to suffer such polluted creatures to approach him but through 
 the blessed High Priest. In proportion as I could apprehend 
 this medium I was deUghted. I did not wish to go to God in 
 my own name. I durst not for my life approach directly to 
 immaculate holiness. How can it be deemed a privilege to be 
 excused from using this medium, and to go naked to him who 
 is a consuming fire? While a hymn was sung, expressive of 
 God's hatred of sin, discovered in casting the angels out of 
 heaven, Adam out of Eden, turning this world into a vale of 
 tears, myriads into hell, and (what appeared more expressive) 
 laying his wrath on his beloved Son, I had an awful sense of 
 his majesty and holiness, and sin appeared, as being against 
 such a God, more dreadful than ever. I never felt such a 
 calm, solid, strong opposition to sin : an opposition which I 
 could trace to its source, being able to tell and to know why I 
 was opposed to sin, viz. because it was against such a holy 
 God. 
 
 In the evening, while hearing divine truth preached and 
 sung, I saw these truths (which I had felt through the day) 
 to be real and certain. I saw that it was one thing to talk, 
 and another to feel — saw that certain truths which I had often 
 expressed, were far different from what I had conceived them 
 to be, and other great truths that were uttered by others I per- 
 ceived would be greater than either they or I then conceived, 
 if fully realized. I saw that it was a different thing to ap- 
 proach God from what I had formerly imagined. When 
 joining in prayer with Mr. Armstrong, my mind was more 
 deeply fixed throughout than perhaps ever before when join- 
 ing in prayer with another. In exhortation I was enabled to 
 give such a description of the great and dreadful, the holy 
 and just Majesty of heaven, as induced one minister to call 
 in question liis religion, another man to doubt, who had not 
 
AT NEWARK. 75 
 
 had a doubt in seven years, and another minister to say, " O 
 'tis too much. These things were designed only for angels." 
 I was enabled also to give such a view of the great High 
 Priest as was said to be refreshing to christians. I mention 
 this only as an evidence of the state of my mind. I feel this 
 morning that this sense of God and Christ would always keep 
 down pride, passion, selfishness, and is the most powerful prin- 
 ciple against all sin. If this is faith, let me never again com- 
 plain that faith will not fortify the heart against sin. It has 
 been because faith was too weak that it has not more pre- 
 vailed. If it is this to be united to Christ, then life flows from 
 such union, and he is indeed the vine to the branches. While 
 opposing a general meeting of the congregations, my heart 
 wept with love to Christ, when the question arose whether I 
 was opposing his beloved interest; and I clearly saw that I 
 would sacrifice character, and every thing to serve him. 
 While on my way to Lamington I had some sweet medita- 
 tions on these delightful subjects ; and one idea appeared so 
 real and important that I stopped on the road to note it down 
 with my pencil. It was this, — that we can have no view of 
 the priesthood of Christ, without an accompanying view of 
 the holiness of God. 
 
 Lamington, two o'clock P. M. These views which I have 
 had are certainly opposed to pride and every sin, and are the 
 only means of conquering sin. For two days past I have 
 scarcely had a single thought for my own character, or any 
 private interest. Formerly, when with my brethren, I used to 
 study the character which 1 should support. But scarcely a 
 single thought of the kind has intruded for two days. My 
 mind has been employed in thinking, not what I am, or am 
 to be in the eyes of men, but what Christ is. How different 
 is rehgion from nature ! How different is the sanctified from 
 the unsanctified heart in every feeling, view, motive, and mo- 
 tion ! May I this day speak for God, — with proper views of 
 Christ, — and with great success ! O for a day of glory ! 
 
 Nine o'clock P. M. In a certain part of the pubhc service 
 Satan or my own wicked heart suggested that one of my 
 
76 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 brethren would be more acceptable to the people than myself. 
 At once the feeling prevailed, " And is it not enough for you 
 to share the love of the Redeemer without the applause of 
 men ? Could such a one as you expect more ?" It is, it is 
 enough. I am satisfied : let others take the applause. Have 
 felt to-day that I might indeed be easily saved, and that Christ 
 is sufficient for the whole world. In reviewing my late hu- 
 miliations and distresses, and glooms and doubts, and cries for 
 mercy, and the consequent relief and joy, I am more sensible 
 that to humble ourselves before the Lord is the only way to be 
 lifted up. And when in future days I shall find my heart 
 broken at God's feet, let me remember this, and patiently wait 
 his time of deliverance. 
 
 iSabbath morning, Connecticut Farms. The past week I 
 have thought with myself — How much calmer, sweeter, 
 brighter, happier, to live thus, to enjoy the blessed High Priest, 
 a clear conscience, and the assurance of a happy immortality, 
 than to sink into sin, pride, self-seeking, worldly-mindedness, 
 and be filled with darkness and shaken with tempests. Why 
 should I then return to folly ? O let it not be. My desires 
 for a new life are calm, solid, and strong. I desire to be made, 
 through every future day, very diflferent from what I ever have 
 been ; and to be enabled to look back upon this era as the pe- 
 riod when, (if I did not begin to see,) I was, by a second 
 touch of Christ, like the men of Bethsaida, (Mark, viii. 22, 
 25,) brought to more distinct vision. I am not my own but 
 his who brought me from the pit, and I have a desire to do 
 something for this divine friend, something to please and honor 
 a holy God; — and to be wholly devoted. I now see that God 
 could easily bring me to be willing to suflTer reproach and mi- 
 sery, and even death, from a direct and mere love of him and 
 his Son. I think I certainly feel something of this temper. 
 O how much better to renounce the idea of being great, and 
 respected as a man of learning or influence, and become an 
 humble christian, let it cost pride as many grinding pains as 
 it may, and retain a clear conscience, an humble confident 
 hope, the bright shinings of a Father's countenance, and be a 
 
AT NEWARK. 77 
 
 tender, meek, modest, affectionate, humble saint, dead to the 
 world, dead to the opinions of men, (any further than duty 
 binds us to respect their opinions,) and thus avoid the conflicts 
 of pride, and the darkness, falls and guilt which pride occa- 
 sions. I certainly would rather be thus, retired from the world, 
 unknowing and unknown, possessing only the excellency of 
 modest and solid worth, and enjoying God and Christ and 
 heaven in the house of my pilgrimage, than to be the most 
 celebrated divine on earth. Let me in my dress, house, stu- 
 dies, preaching, company, address, intercourse with men, jour- 
 nies, — and every thing, take and hold this ground so crossing 
 to pride, but so congenial with a spiritual mind. I can now 
 contemplate God and Christ with tearful tenderness, and can 
 draw from them all my arguments for repentance, for active 
 service, for suffering, and for holy living. I can contemplate 
 them and their love without pride. To enjoy them and hope 
 for salvation, does not lift me up as once it did. My heart is 
 afraid of pride and presumption, and is jealous and cautious 
 lest something should awake, and grieve away my Beloved, 
 and trembles at the presumption of speaking one word to God, 
 but sensibly in the name of Jesus, or even of thinking of him, 
 but as being brought near by the blood of his Son. Yet per- 
 haps it is impossible to have a full and immediate sense of this 
 in every petition and thought of God. Perhaps, preserving a 
 general sense that he is reconciled by his Son, I may accepta- 
 bly present petitions to him, as a reconciled Father, without 
 always having a direct view of the priesthood of Christ. 
 
 My present views have marshalled before me such an im- 
 mensity of objects to pray for and to thank for, that in prayer 
 this morning, I rapidly passed through a great variety of mat- 
 ter, not knowing which to take first, nor w hen to stop. 
 
 Formerly I had much exertion to make to brace myself 
 with resolution against the fear of man. But during a con- 
 siderable part of the last week, I had no more thought of 
 guarding against this than against murder ; the consideration 
 of human opinions being wholly out of mind, and swallowed 
 up in view of God and Christ. 
 
78 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 O what wonders are these ! And has God indeed chosen 
 me from eternity? Has he redeemed me by the blood of 
 Christ, — called and sanctified me by the Holy Ghost, — put 
 me into the ministry, — and so wonderfully blessed me therein? 
 
 his affecting faithfulness, that without any seeking, contri- 
 vance, or wisdom of my own, he should take care of my sal- 
 vation, during all my forgetfulness of myself and him ! And 
 is the creature, who, under all this mercy, has so much sin- 
 ned, — is he pardoned? Are my crimson stains become white 
 as snow? Am I indeed as a child ? May I be assured of being 
 delivered from those devices of Satan and my own heart 
 which I feared would prove my ruin'^ Am I to conquer, and 
 to live near to God ? To live a serene life after all my distress 
 and fears ? After all my guilt, to die a happy death ? and to 
 reign on an eternal throne ? O, grace, grace, grace ! O, the 
 ocean without a bottom or a shore ! Now Lord I am wholly 
 thine ! Riches, character, the world, are dead. This is no 
 passion, but a solid reality of feeling. No tender tumult, — all 
 is calm, — more like clear vision, than an elevation of animal 
 affections. I see it all in a holy God, and a holy all-sufficient 
 High Priest. I pant after more knowledge of them ; and if I 
 know any thing about humility, I am deeply humble while 
 
 1 view these things, — while I view them with scarce a doubt 
 of my adoption. In former times, when my hope was strong, 
 it would arise from tender meltings of soul ; now from a direct 
 view of a holy God, and the blessed High Priest, who brings 
 me near to him, and it is now therefore a much more sohd 
 thing. Formerly my hope made me think myself more than 
 others ; this makes me forget all such comparisons, — makes 
 me appear a bare naked nothing before God, and to wonder 
 why he should set his love on me. And when I think of 
 others, it is only with desire that they may share with me in 
 these views and blessings. These views bring me to abhor 
 and dread the least secret movement of sin,— to watch against it, 
 and long for more views of God, and of the great mystery of re- 
 demption, — to be tremblingly fearful of God's withdrawment. 
 They render more affecting all the common mercies of my 
 
AT NEWARK. 79 
 
 life, and bring me to see that the government is, and ought 
 to be, the Lord's, The question of having another to govern 
 or decide, is dead ; and the revival of it would seem strange. 
 The more guilty I feel, the happier I am; for without a sense 
 of guilt, I cannot relish the precious High Priest. And I can 
 easily conceive that a sense of guilt will be felt through eter- 
 nity among the redeemed. When I ask, Do I possess a right 
 idea of the holiness of God and Christ? I can decide the ques- 
 tion thus: By holiness it is evident I mean what is opposite 
 to my sin ; for when I lose a sweet sense of the propriety of a 
 holy High Priest, I revive it by looking at my pollution, and 
 seeing the necessity of a High Priest of an opposite character ; 
 and then the sense of his holiness becomes sweet, and at the 
 same time, I approve and reverence the holiness of God the 
 Father. I have had an awful sense of this holiness, and 
 tremble at the thought of approaching him, except through 
 the mediation of Jesus. When following others in prayer, or 
 when looking forward to public worship, I have trembled at 
 the thought of making one petition, or doing any thing, but 
 in the name of a mediator. My present views produce grati- 
 tude, whichever way I look, wonder, astonishment, — a sense 
 of bankruptcy, — of obligation to live and to die for Christ, — 
 joy, trust, confidence in his veracity and all sufficiency for a 
 whole world. They bring my lost time before me, — show me 
 that there is abundance to do and to think of, — and the im- 
 portance of being up and doing. They produce a tender de- 
 sire that all my friends may see and enjoy this glory and ho- 
 nor, this God and Christ. They produce a living principle, 
 strongly counteracting pride and every sin ; and I clearly per- 
 ceive that if this principle should become strong enough, it 
 would drive all sin from my heart, and make me holy as God 
 is holy. I have not enough preached Jesus ; and when I have 
 preached him, it was not enough in the simplicity of the gos- 
 pel. I have had too much the awkward formahty of system, 
 and have not presented him precisely in the right aspects. 
 Were I now to preach any sermon that I possess, I should 
 drop many of the expressions, and should speak of Chiist in 
 
80 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 words more resembling the life. I ought to have taken the 
 phrases and aspects of this great mystery more directly from 
 the Bible, and made less use of systematic phrases. Nothing 
 will crucify the world but the cross of Christ. During the 
 past week I felt no agony of desire for the success of my mi- 
 nistrations, being more engrossed with the thought of pleasing 
 God than even of converting sinners. Feeling that the cause 
 was God's, — that he had power with a word to bring the pros- 
 perity of Zion at any time, I calmly left it with him. So my 
 mind was moulded. 
 
 I am not without hope that the past week will form a new 
 era in my life. Perhaps I have explored the mazes of sin, and 
 the depths of Satan, long enough to fit me for the ministry; 
 (for it is with reference to the people as much as to themselves, 
 that God regulates the experience of his ministers,) and now 
 he may design to lead me to an exquisite rehsh and a deep 
 understanding of the great Redeemer, and to display more 
 fully his cross for the crucifixion of sinners, and the relief of 
 the broken hearted. He is now bringing me out of long per- 
 plexity in regard to temporals ; and perhaps I may be now 
 passing from the state of B, which (as described by John 
 Newton) is marked with conflict, into the state of C, which is 
 distinguished for happy contemplation. But let me not put off 
 my armor as though the warfare were accomplished. 
 
 Am now going to the house of God, desirous to pray, to 
 sing, to preach aright, and with success, and to enjoy the pre- 
 sence of God. All depends on him. I have dwelt particu- 
 larly on these several petitions, not content with asking gene- 
 rally for the divine assistance. May divine influences descend 
 this day all around and through the christian world. No 
 blessing would be so sweet to me as this. 
 
 Noon. A calm, sweet, humble frame through all the exer- 
 cises, — melting now and then when speaking of Jesus, — ac- 
 companied with a still but strong desire that success might at- 
 tend the word. In the last prayer, I owned to the Lord that 
 the cause was his, not mine; that he loved it better than I 
 did; that the souls of men were his ; that the whole case was 
 
AT NEWARK. 81 
 
 known to him; that he saw what was to be done; tliat all 
 depended on him: and while I said, O that a blessing might 
 attend the word, I adored his sovereignty, and left the matter 
 with him, saying, " Not my will but thine be done." In pro- 
 nouncing the blessing, I wished the rich blessings of the Fa- 
 ther, Son, and Holy Ghost, might come upon the people. 
 
 Night. Felt some effects of exhaustion : less sensible en- 
 joyment, and less fixedness of thought, — but an increasing de- 
 sire to do good, as I proceeded in the sermon. Before the 
 blessing I again addressed the people. 
 
 Wednesday, March 23d. Monday and Tuesday I visited 
 my people ; took much pleasure in recommending a holy God, 
 and a blessed High Priest. Felt the effects of last week's 
 views. Have seen that there is such a thing as being moved 
 to duty by the fear of God and the love of Christ. Received 
 a letter from a christian brother, admonishing me, with great 
 plainness, to beware of the dangers arising from my new si- 
 tuation. At another time. I might have felt my pride wound- 
 ed ; but my heart was affected with gratitude for his faithful 
 friendship. 
 
 I am deeply sensible that during all my ministry I have 
 been under the strong power of unbelief. J have not seen the 
 danger, and no wonder that I have not feared it nor prayed 
 against it. 
 
 In my late attempts to gain more full views of the mystery 
 of redemption, I have been convinced that the Jewish types 
 were designed, not only to instruct that nation, but to teach 
 christians also ; being well adapted to the weakness of our ap- 
 prehensions now. As for instance the entrance of the High 
 Priest into the presence of the Shekinah by blood and sacri- 
 fice, and with so much awe and caution, helps our concep- 
 tions of the manner in which our great High Priest brings us 
 near to God by the sacrifice of himself. The same of the in- 
 tercession of the High Priest for the people, — the scape goat, 
 &c. 
 
 Vol.1. 11 
 
82 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 How long the peculiar state of mind described in 
 several preceding paragraphs continued, does not 
 appear, as the record of his exercises is interrupted 
 from March till September; though it is evident 
 that, at the latter period, he had lost in some degree 
 that deep and overwhelming sense of divine things 
 by which his spirit had sometimes seemed well nigh 
 entranced. Under date of March 3, 1804, he 
 writes thus : 
 
 Was struck this morning in reading Phil. ii. 14, 15. "Do 
 all things without murmurings and disputings : that ye may- 
 be blameless and harmless, the sons of God without rebuke, 
 in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation, among whom 
 ye shine as lights in the world." In christian meekness and 
 wisdom, what a dignity ! Here is no carrying things by loud 
 and pertinacious disputings, — no pert and loquacious attempts 
 to correct every word that shall drop from others, not agreeing 
 precisely with one's own mind. Among the crooked and per- 
 verse we must prevail and make our influence felt by the meek- 
 ness of wisdom, — by a prudent deportment and temperate 
 counsels, rather than attempt to storm, and carry the fortress 
 with the strength of words. Here is a dignity and prudence, 
 in opposition to rendering one's self common ; a dignity which 
 I have too much reputed hypocrisy, and selfish temporizing. 
 But this wisdom I much want. Murmurings too are to be 
 avoided in all cases : murmurings at vi'ant of success in my 
 ministry, murmurings at general wickedness, — murmurings 
 at unreasonable men, — murmurings at want of support, — 
 murmurings at the trials of Ufe, — murmurings of every kind. 
 
 March 5th. How comes it to pass that some worldly men 
 preserve a character with fewer blots, are more generous, more 
 socially sweet, &c. than many christians? Without consi- 
 dering the diflerence in natural tempers, I give this reason : in 
 some cases, pride being the strongest passion, and more easily 
 influencing the other corruptions than grace, as being more 
 
AT NEWARK. 83 
 
 congenial with them, can command the field with les3 conflict 
 than grace can in other men ; and being always in exercise, 
 (whereas grace is not) preserves the man from indecent things 
 more steadily than grace. And this principle when it has ta- 
 ken the government, is much more powerful than in the 
 christian, who, being habitually engaged to weaken it, feels 
 less its aid when grace is absent. Add to this, that Satan 
 does not make such violent onsets upon one who is not resist- 
 ing his dominion. A predominant corruption controls the 
 whole man without opposition ; whereas grace never controls 
 the whole heart and is opposed. Some predominant passion 
 which is congenial to the whole soul, and which controls the 
 whole man, and that uniformly, may produce greater and 
 more uniform visible effects than grace commonly does. 
 Thus the unbelieving Jews have shown more unconquerable 
 fortitude under persecution and contempt, and more unvaried 
 adherence to their religion, than most christians. But this 
 sentiment does not weaken the necessity of sanctification and 
 good works. 
 
 April 5th, Sabbath moniing. Yes, I now am convinced 
 and assuredly know that the only way to be happy is to keep 
 the mind independent of all worldly things, and to derive our 
 happiness from setting the Lord always before us, receiving 
 him for our portion, trusting in his fatherly love and protec- 
 tion, and looking on all the dreams of this life as about to dis- 
 solve in the light of eternit}^, when we awake in his likeness. 
 The moment we come down upon earth to take our comfort 
 here, we find our hearts the mark of all those shafts that are 
 flying thick in this region of care, disappointment, sin, and 
 sorrow. Then we are restless and pant after retirement. But 
 why 1 Because the groves are stiller than our breasts, and we 
 dream that our hearts would be as still if we were there. But 
 alas, whether in grove or city, while turbulent passions dis- 
 turb the breast, there is equal restlessness. And in grove or 
 city there is equal rest while passion sleeps. Nothing can still 
 and subdue the passions but the keeping of the heart in hea- 
 ven. This is the great secret of happiness. " Their sorrows 
 
84 FIRST RESfDENCE 
 
 are multiplied who seek another God." Ah, here is the cause of 
 all my misery ! I have forsaken the fountain of living waters, 
 for broken cisterns. When I can be more independent of the 
 opinions of men, — can have my pride, envy, anger, and ava- 
 rice subdued by heavenly mindedness, — can again soothe the 
 sorrows of life, as I once used to do, by looking on the near 
 approach of eternity. — then, and not till then, I shall be at 
 rest. Return unto thy rest, O my soul ! Unbelief and guilt 
 have prevented me from returning. I have got disused to 
 view God with filial and delightful confidence, nourished by 
 intimate communion with him, and therefore it is that I have 
 become in so great a degree a stranger to peace. Vain world 
 be gone ! Thou art the enemy of my peace. Passion, be 
 still. Let me again fly to the bosom of my God ! " There 
 would I fix my last abode, and drown the sorrows of my 
 soul." 
 
 June 25th. A day for special devotion. I am now convinc- 
 ed that the occasion of my being unable to realize divine 
 things, of the loss of the serenity and self-enjoyment which I 
 formerly possessed, of the restlessness that cannot find a home, 
 — of an incapacity to resist the distracting influence of the 
 world, and to bear up calmly against its frowns, — is the ne- 
 glect of my closet, and the discontinuance of days of special 
 devotion. It is impossible for the soul to retain a realizing and 
 soothing sense of eternal things, unless that sense is renewed 
 and deeply impressed in secret meditation and devotion. The 
 mind, unless settled in this way, will be too much distracted 
 in public devotion, and in religious conversation, to obtain this 
 sense, to such a degree as will fortify and support it. All my 
 restlessness and irregular feelings are imputable, in a great 
 measure, to this cause. The only cure must be sought in the 
 renewal of secret devotion, and in days of special prayer and 
 meditation. What contentment, submission, composure, and 
 peace, would this enable me to carry into all the scenes of duty 
 and cave. I have now got a home. Last evening, (being the 
 first Sabbath evening that we have been alone since we moved 
 into this house,) in walking in my garden, I desired to conse- 
 
AT NEWARK. 86 
 
 crate flie alley in which I walked to divine meditation, and 
 prayed and hoped that it might prove more delightful than 
 my former walks at New-Hartford, the loss of which I have 
 so much regretted. O God, may this new habitation be the 
 scene of peace and of heavenly communion for years to come ! 
 Here, in retirement from the world, may we cultivate the 
 sweets of domestic enjoyment, and the calm delights of reli- 
 gion, while we enjoy the innocent amusements of the garden, 
 and contemplate the beauty of thy works ! May we now be- 
 gin to see good days in proportion to the days in which we 
 have been afflicted ! A more retired state of reflection I am 
 convinced is necessary, not only to devotion, to domestic and 
 self enjoyment, but to furnish me with such views and impres- 
 sions of divine truth as will give interest to my public mini- 
 strations, sanctity to my character, and savoriness to my con- 
 versation among my people. 
 
 In further reviewing my memoirs, (in which I was again 
 interrupted by company,) I perceived that I formerly had a 
 more exquisite sense of sin than I now possess, though I have 
 now equal, and even increased cause of mourning and abase- 
 ment. 
 
 At night. — I find the effects of the exercises of this day are 
 a more tender frame of mind towards my fellow men, more 
 feeling, freedom, and sweetness in prayer, and more compla- 
 cency, confidence, and readiness in contemplating God. And 
 art thou returning to my soul and restoring my peace, thou 
 God of faithfulness and abounding mercy ? When forsaken 
 by every other lover, when driven from every other refuge, 
 when unable to find rest for the sole of my foot in the wide 
 creation, thou art my last resort : thy faithful bosom still offers 
 me sweet repose. Let the world be gone. Let me but possess 
 thee, my faithful Redeemer ; let me but hear thy lips invite 
 me home, and tell me I am thine, and I have enough. 
 
 Sabbath morning, July ist. I have been this week writ- 
 ing upon the atonement. Regardless of ornaments of style, 
 I have been feasting upon the richest truth. The effect is, 
 not only more ease and force in my composition, and more 
 
86 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 rapidity in the execution, but a sweet and easy state of mind, 
 tiiat I have not enjoyed for a considerable period. Cares sit 
 light upon me, the world goes easy with me, I can receive my 
 friends, and perform parochial duty, without anxiety. I can 
 take my own natural course without constraint, a circumstance 
 essential to my peace and usefulness, and acceptableness. I 
 am deeply convinced, that would I find my life and ministra- 
 tions pleasant to myself, and most useful and acceptable to 
 the people, especially if I would live upon God and divine 
 truth, I must take my own natural course in preaching, and 
 keep my mind fixed on truth rather than style, and support a 
 more grave and dignified independence of the opinions of 
 men. 
 
 July 2Uh. I have been thinking lately that there must be 
 some essential defect in my prayers, or they would procure for 
 me more strength against sin. It has occurred to me that I 
 have not called on the name of Jesus. Always making ap- 
 plication to the invisible God, I have too much left a Media- 
 tor out of my account, as the Jews did. Had I gone directly 
 to Jesus, as those did whom he healed in the days of his flesh, 
 I might at least have touched the hem of his garment, and 
 been made whole. For a week past I have made the expe- 
 riment, and have almost entirely prayed to the Mediatorial 
 King ; and by some means or other my temptations and cor- 
 ruptions have been more restrained than for a long time pre- 
 vious. 
 
 In walking my garden this evening, I had one of those im- 
 pressions which seem to be made by a sight of demonstrable 
 truth. The truth discovered was this: In examining my 
 state, I ought not so much to have dwelt on a review of colla- 
 teral circumstances, as a careful review of the motives which 
 influenced me in diflferent scenes of my life ; and my anxiety 
 for the present ought to be, not so much whether I am new- 
 born, — or if not, how I shall become new-born, as to take care 
 that in all my conduct I do right from right motives, restrain- 
 ing every sinful passion, and conscientiously performing every 
 known duty. I have been setting up a change as a sort of 
 
AT NEWARK. 87 
 
 abstract object of inquiry and pursuit, rather than taking care 
 for the present to preserve, in small as well as in great mat- 
 ters, purity of heart and life. I must be more watchful and 
 conscientious in innumerable small matters, and be, in all my 
 feelings and conduct, under the influence of right motives. 
 This is the only anxiety I ought to have for my personal cha- 
 racter or prospects. If I can attain to right motives in all my 
 feelings and behavior, I need be anxious about no other change. 
 Let this then be the simple and direct object of my care. 
 
 January 6ihj 1805. This day I have attained to one-half 
 of three score years and ten. To this hour I have always 
 been considering my life before me, and have been looking 
 forward to happiness and usefulness, little of which I have 
 hitherto found. But now I have awoke from my dream, and 
 find, to my surprise, that before I was aware, the greatest part 
 of my life has probably passed ; certainly the greatest part of 
 the enjoyment of life. Fifteen years more, (if I live to see 
 them,) and I am fifty, and must probably begin to feel the 
 decays and infirmities of age. If I would find my hfe, I must 
 look back rather than forward. I have been often warned 
 that I should be striving to overtake life until I should sud- 
 denly wake up, and find I had got past it. But I never be- 
 lieved it till I now find it true. What a vapor is our present 
 existence ! Vanity of vanities, all is vanity ! It is high time 
 for me to gird up my loins and begin to live to some good pur- 
 pose. It is too late for me to spend my time in preparing ac- 
 commodations to live here ; it is time for me to be preparing 
 to depart to the eternal world. 
 
 In February of this year, Mr. Griffin received 
 a call to the pastoral charge of the first Reformed 
 Dutch church in Albany. He seems to have been 
 not a little embarrassed in respect to the manner in 
 which he should dispose of it, and not only earnestly 
 sought divine guidance, but asked the advice of se- 
 veral of his most judicious brethren in the ministry. 
 The result was, that after a short time he deter- 
 
88 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 mined to decline the call; a circumstance which 
 seems to have been gratefully appreciated by his 
 people, and to have entrenched him more strongly 
 than ever in their affections. 
 
 April 7th. Another monument to the divine faithfulness I 
 have to erect. Some weeks ago I was desired to visit a wretch- 
 ed man who was declining in a consumption, and who after 
 having for several years persecuted his wife and daughter for 
 their religion, was now bitterly opposed to serious conversation, 
 and to the very sight of a christian. I went to see him. He 
 treated me with greater outrage and spite than I ever received 
 in the discharge of my ministerial duty. Though I approach- 
 ed him with all possible tenderness, he spurned me from him, 
 absolutely refused to receive instruction from one whom he 
 did not love or respect ; and reproached me with being an in- 
 jury to the town. I left him with a full conviction that he 
 had committed the unpardonable sin by knowingly persecu- 
 ting Christ in the person of his wife and daughter; and view- 
 ing him as a person given over of God, I determined to visit 
 him no more. I mentioned this determination to one of my 
 brethren in the ministry, who disapproved of it, and advised 
 me to persevere in labors with him. I accordingly have visit- 
 ed him from time to time ; and this morning I found him in 
 a frame of mind which induced a comfortable hope that he 
 had obtained mercy of the Lord. He expressed regret for his 
 former treatment of me, and seems desirous to have me near 
 him. The town which was filled with his outrage against 
 me, and recognized him as conspicuous among the parly op- 
 posed to the gospel which 1 preached, now sees the regard he 
 has for me, and for the truth I delivered to him, as the ac- 
 knowledged means of his salvation. I feel myself greatly 
 honored and supported in view of the whole town, while I am 
 reproved for meditating an abandonment of a poor dying sin- 
 ner. Let me be encouraged to put my life in my hands, and 
 look to God for all needful support in his blessed work. 
 
AT NEWARK. 89 
 
 During the session of the General Assembly of 
 the Presbyterian church in May of this year, Mr. 
 Griffin preached the annual Missionary sermon. 
 His subject, which was " the kingdom of Christ," 
 he illustrated and enforced with great beauty and 
 power. The discourse has passed through several 
 editions, and may justly claim a place among the 
 highest specimens of pulpit eloquence which this 
 country has produced. 
 
 August 8th. We have had a distressing drought. The 
 clouds would sometimes gather, as though they made an ef- 
 fort to rain, but could not. They would rain a little and stop, 
 as though it was hard for them to perform their wonted office. 
 We have had also a most alarming and distressing spiritual 
 drought. Vice has prevailed to a dreadful degree. Murders 
 have been ; suicides, to the number, I believe, of six or eight, 
 have happened in town in the course of a few months, — 
 three Avithin the last week. Yesterday the people of this and 
 some neighboring congregations kept a day of fasting and 
 prayer, on account of the double drought. It was with us a 
 solemn day. And io ! this morning the clouds pour down the 
 rain plentifully, and as easily as April showers. The obstruc- 
 tion seems removed, as when the prophets of Baal were slain. 
 (I Kings, xviii.) The thunder this morning and the appear- 
 ance of the clouds denote a rainy day. O the marvellous 
 condescension and tenderness of God towards his poor infant 
 creatures ! What pains he takes to pursuade them, and pre- 
 vail with them to look to him and trust in him ! O that the 
 drought which rests on the hill of Zion might be as speedily 
 removed ! Wilt thou care for the earth, O God, and not care 
 for thy parched vineyard? 
 
 On the 20th July, 1807, died Dr. McWhorter, 
 the senior pastor of the church, and on the 22d 
 Mr. Griffin preached his funeral sermon, in which 
 
 Vol. I. 12 
 
90 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 he rendered a faithful and beautiful tribute to the 
 memory of his venerable colleague. The sermon 
 was published, and is valuable, not only as a fine 
 specimen of eloquence, but as an important histo- 
 rical document. 
 
 The year 1807 was signalized by one of the most 
 powerful revivals that occurred during his ministry. 
 The only manuscript record that he has left of it is 
 the following. — " Sept. 1807. Began a great revival 
 of Religion in the town. Ninety-seven joined the 
 church in one day, and about two hundred in all." 
 A more full account of this revival, however, has 
 been preserved in a letter which he addressed to 
 the Rev. Dr. Green of Philadelphia, and which 
 was published in the Panoplist of July, 1808. It is 
 as follows : — 
 
 Dear Sir — 
 
 I am very willing to give you a general and succinct re- 
 lation of the wonders of divine grace, which we have wit- 
 nessed. 
 
 About the first of December, 1806, we were encouraged 
 with some symptoms of a revival of religion in this village; 
 but they quickly disappeared. In March, 1807, they were re- 
 newed, by means of several instances of sudden death ; but 
 again passed off leaving no effects at that time apparent, ex- 
 cept on three or four persons, who have since made a profes- 
 sion of religion. The death of Dr. McWhorter in July, made 
 a great impression on the congregation, which was sensibly 
 deepened, in the month of August through the instrumentali- 
 ty of the Rev. Gideon Blackburn, who preached several times 
 here with great zeal and energy. Though nothing extraor- 
 dinary at that time appeared, yet we have since been able to 
 trace first impressions to each of the four seasons above men- 
 tioned. The l«aveu waa secretly and increasingly working 
 
AT NEWARK, 91 
 
 for nine months, before it became evident. We have since 
 discovered also that during the summer God was preparing 
 some for the scene wliich was about to open, by impressive 
 and often repeated dreams. Days of dissipation were sepa- 
 rated by nights, in which fancy would bear the sinner to the 
 bar of God, and fill him with the terrors of the final judg- 
 ment ; terrors, which, though dissipated by the morning, would 
 return with returning sleep. These nightly alarms gradually 
 fixed the waking thoughts. Thus, at a time when every 
 thing appeared to be still around us, secret anxieties were 
 preying upon a number of persons, which, so far from being 
 the effect of sympathy, were known only to God and them- 
 selves. In the latter weeks of August, I knew of nothing 
 special in the congregation, except two or three persons, who 
 began to be awakened, and four christians whose desires for a 
 revival of religion were too earnest to be concealed from their 
 minister. In this precise posture things remained for about a 
 fortnight. To a few it was an hour of awful suspense. But 
 in some of the last days in August it became apparent that 
 the desire for a revival was rapidly spreading among the com- 
 municants. 
 
 As our sacramental sabbath was approaching, this church, 
 in connexion with two neighboring churches, agreed to set 
 apart the preceding Friday, (Sept. 4th,) for fasting and prayer ; 
 partly as a preparatory service, but chielly to make supplica- 
 tion for effusions of the Holy Spirit. The day, which was 
 spent in prayer, singing, and short addresses to the people, was 
 marked with unusual stillness, accompanied with very pleas- 
 ing appearances of humility, earnest desire, and a sense of en- 
 tire dependance. On the following sabbath, a number of per- 
 sons assembled at nine o'clock in the morning, to spend an 
 hour in praying for their minister, and for the blessing of God 
 on the exercises of the day ; and this has since become the 
 slated practice of almost all the praying people of the congre- 
 gation ; a practice which has been accompanied with effects 
 very refreshing to themselves, and materially beneficial to the 
 cause of evangelical piety. Those who attended at this first 
 
93" FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 season, unexpectedly found themselves animated with desires 
 unfelt before, that God Avould, that very day, bring out his 
 perfections to the view of the communicants : And this he did, 
 to a degree that many had seldom or never seen before. On 
 the evening of the following Monday, at a lecture preached in 
 a private house, the first feehngs which denoted the extraordi- 
 nary presence of God, and the actual commencement of a re- 
 vival of religion, were awakened, perhaps in every person that 
 was present. It was no longer doubtful whether a work of 
 divine grace was begun. During that and the following week, 
 increasing symptoms of a most powerful influence were disco- 
 vered. The appearance was as if a collection of waters, long 
 suspended over the town, had fallen at once, and deluged the 
 whole place. For several weeks, the people would stay at the 
 close of every evening service, to hear some new exhortation ; 
 and it seemed impossible to persuade them to depart, until 
 those on whose lips they hung had retired. At those seasons 
 you might see a multitude weeping and trembling around their 
 minister, and many others standing as astonished spectators 
 of the scene, and beginning to tremble themselves. One sab- 
 bath, after the second service, when I had catechised and dis- 
 missed the httle children, they gathered around me, weeping, 
 and inquired what they should do. I presume not less than 
 a hundred were in tears at once. The scene was as affecting, 
 as it was unexpected. Having prayed with them again, and 
 spent some time in exhortation, I attempted to send them 
 away ; but with all my entreaties, I could not prevail on them 
 to depart, until night came on, and then I was obliged to go 
 out with them, and literally force them from me. But this 
 excitement of animal feelings, incident to the commencement 
 of revivals of religion, soon subsided, and the work has ever 
 since proceeded in profound silence. 
 
 Early in September, there were formed many private asso- 
 ciations for prayer,^ — some male, and some female, — the happy 
 influence of which has been manifestly and largely felt. I 
 never before witnessed the communication of a spirit of prayer 
 so earnest and so general, nor observed such evident and re- 
 
AT NEWARK. 93 
 
 markable answers to prayer. Tiie agonies of parents have 
 been such as to drive sleep from their eyes, and for weeks to- 
 gether, have been seemingly as great as their nature could 
 well sustain. And these parents, in every case that has come 
 within my knowledge, have each several children, who are 
 already numbered among the hopeful converts. 
 
 Many professors have been severely tried, and not a few 
 have for a time, given themselves over for lost. The Lord 
 has indeed come to search our Jerusalem with candles, and to 
 discover the men that were settled on their lees. Awed by the 
 majesty of a present God, many could say, with Moses, " I 
 exceedingly fear and quake." I could not help saying, if this 
 glimpse of light dissipated so many hopes, what effect will at- 
 tend the final judgment? 
 
 This work, in point of power and stillness, exceeds all that 
 1 have ever seen. While it bears down every thing with irre- 
 sistible force, and seems almost to dispense with human in- 
 strumentality, it moves with so much silence that, unless we 
 attentively observe its effects, we are tempted, at times, to 
 doubt whether any thing uncommon is taking place. The 
 conveits are strongly marked with humility and self distrust : 
 instead of being elated with confident hopes, they are inclined 
 to tremble. Many of them possess deep and discriminating 
 views ; and all, or almost all, are born into the distinguishing 
 doctrines of grace. 
 
 I suppose there are from two hundred and thirty to two 
 hundred and fifty, who hope that they have become tbe sub- 
 jects of Divine grace ; and many remain still under solemn 
 impressions, whose number, I hope, is almost daily increasing. 
 The subjects of this work are of all ages, from nine years old, 
 to more than three score years and ten ; and of all characters, 
 includmg drunkards, apostates, infidels, and those who were 
 lately malignant opposers ; and of all conditions, including 
 poor negroes, and some of them hoary with age. I cannot 
 refrain from mentioning, among the hopeful converts, three 
 young gentlemen of the first talents and education, and of ex- 
 cellent families, who have abandoned the study of the law, in 
 
94 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 which they have been employed for years, to devote them- 
 selves to the gospel ministry. 
 
 We have had but one sacrament since the work commenc- 
 ed, at which time we received ninety-seven new members, out 
 of one hundred and two persons, who had been propounded a 
 fortnight before. 
 
 While we gaze with wonder and delight at these glorious 
 triumphs of the Prince of peace, and weep for joy to hear our 
 babes and suckUngs sing hosannas to the Son of David, we 
 cannot but join in a general response, and cry, " Blessed is he 
 that cometh in the name of the Lord ; hosanna in the high- 
 est"! 
 
 I am, dear sir, most affectionately yours, 
 
 EDWARD D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 During his first residence at Newark, Mr. Grif- 
 fin frequently travelled two or three weeks at a 
 time in company with some brother in the ministry, 
 in those parts of New-Jersey which were compa- 
 ratively destitute of the means of grace, preaching 
 the gospel with great power and sometimes with 
 great success. " It was on one of these preaching 
 tours," says the Rev. Doctor Hillyer, " that the 
 following interesting circumstance occurred to him. 
 One night when we were not together, he lodged at 
 a house near a hill called the Sugar-loaf. In the 
 morning he ascended the hill to take a view of the 
 surrounding country. While he was enjoying a 
 delightful prospect, a maniac at the foot of the hill 
 was meditating his death. With a loaded fowling- 
 piece, he secreted himself behind a fence near a 
 foot-path in which the Doctor was expected to de- 
 scend. Providentially a neighbor passing by dis- 
 covered him, and went to him and inquired what he 
 was about to do with his gun. The maniac replied, 
 
AT NEWARK. 95 
 
 ' Look up yonder, dont you see that man ? He is a 
 British spy sent over by the king of England to spy 
 out our land, and as he comes down I intend to 
 shoot him.' ' No,' said the neighbor, ' he is the 
 minister who preached for us the last evening.' 
 Upon this the unhappy man gave up his arms and 
 retired ; but it was fully believed by those who 
 knew the state of his mind, that he would have shot 
 our friend dead, if he had not been thus providen- 
 tially prevented. The Doctor often mentioned this 
 singular escape from sudden death with great sen- 
 sibility." 
 
 In August, 1808, Mr. Griffin was honored with 
 the degree of Doctor of Divinity from Union Col- 
 lege. 
 
 The Theological Seminary at Andover having 
 just been established. Doctor Griffin was appoint- 
 ed, in the course of this year, to the Bartlett Pro- 
 fessorship of Pulpit Eloquence in that institution ; 
 and shortly after this appointment, he was elected 
 by the infant church in Park-street, Boston, their 
 stated preacher. For both these places he was con- 
 sidered as pre-eminently qualified ; though it was 
 not without much deliberation, and as it would seem 
 many severe struggles, that he finally came to the 
 determination of resigning his pastoral charge. 
 Before the meeting of Presbytery in April, 1809, 
 he requested the congregation to consent to his dis- 
 mission ; and having obtained their consent, he was 
 dismissed at that meeting, though he continued his 
 ministrations among them till the last of May. On 
 the 28th of May he preached his Farewell sermon. 
 
96 FIRST RESIDENCE 
 
 It was a noble effort, full of sublimity and pathos, 
 worthy of the occasion and worthy of the man. 
 It has had an extensive circulation, and been ad- 
 mired on both sides of the Atlantic. The follow- 
 ing paragraph from the sermon, exhibits the won- 
 derful success which had attended his ministry. 
 
 " Eight years ago, this church consisted of two 
 hundred and two members, of whom one hundred 
 and forty-six still remain. We have since admitted 
 four hundred and thirty-four to our communion, of 
 whom three hundred and seventy- six still remain. 
 Of those whom we have admitted, sixty-two were 
 received from other churches, and three hundred 
 and seventy-two from the world. Of the latter we 
 admitted a hundred and thirteen in one year, and 
 at another time a hundred and seventy-four in six 
 months. All the members which have belonged to 
 this church, within that period, amount to six hun- 
 dred and thirty-six ; of whom a hundred and four- 
 teen have, in various ways, been removed, and five 
 hundred and twenty-two still remain." 
 
 Of the various testimonies of respect and affec- 
 tion which he received from his people on leaving 
 them, the following letter, from the Hon. Elisha 
 BouDiNOT, dated "Baltimore, 18th May, 1809," 
 may suffice as a specimen. 
 
 Rev. and Dear Sir, 
 
 My feelings were too much alive at the idea of those con- 
 nections being rent asunder which I had fondly hoped would 
 have continued until they had placed my remains in the house 
 appointed for all living — to call upon you before I left home. 
 I knew my feelings had too much the mastery of me to trust 
 them where they were so much aroused. Nothing but the 
 
AT NEWARK. 97 
 
 conviction that it is the duty of every servant of Christ to sa- 
 crifice his own friendship, feehngs and connexions, whenever 
 there is a probability of their interfering with the general and 
 superior good of Zion, could have made me submit to this 
 separation with any degree of composure. But viewing this 
 to be the case, I rejoice in the idea that our great Master will 
 make you instrumental in pulUng down the high pillars of 
 Satan's kingdom, and destroying his strong hold, and cause 
 you to witness for the truth, as the apostle of old, even at 
 Rome. 
 
 When I reflect on the many interesting scenes I have wit- 
 nessed since you was our pastor — the many hours of sweet 
 intercourse we have had together ; when I consider your zeal, 
 your ardor, your faithfulness in our Master's cause, and the 
 blessing that has attended them, the thought that I must wit- 
 ness them no more, I must confess, is too much for my feeble 
 nature to bear with composure, and I must weep in silence. 
 May a compassionate Saviour forgive the falling tear, if wrong ! 
 Suffer me to entreat still an interest in your prayers, and that 
 you will never cease wrestling at the throne of grace for me 
 and those who are dearer to me than hfe, till I have a com- 
 fortable hope that we shall all meet with joy at the final ap- 
 pearing of our glorious Immanuel, when my children shall 
 be of the gems that shall constitute your crown of rejoicing. 
 Now go in peace, cloathed with the whole armor of God, pre- 
 pared to fight the battles of our Master; and the God of Peace 
 be with you, and make you abundantly successful in all 
 things, and continue you his faithful witness to the end. 
 
 My dearest Mrs. B. bears the idea of parting worse than I 
 
 do. She joins me with our children here, in our best affection 
 
 to your dear Mrs. Griffm and Louisa, wishing you may long 
 
 be continued a blessing to each other in health and happiness. 
 
 I am, my dear Sir, 
 
 Your affectionate friend, 
 
 ELISHA BOUDINOT. 
 
 Vol. I. 13 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HIS RESIDENCE AT ANDOVER AND BOSTON. 
 
 On the morning after he preached his farewell 
 sermon, Doctor Griffin left Newark with his fa- 
 mily for Massachusetts, and on the 21st of June 
 was inducted with appropriate ceremonies into the 
 professorship at Andover, to which he had been ap- 
 pointed. His inaugural oration, which was one of 
 his most chaste and beautiful productions, fully jus- 
 tified the high opinion that had been formed of his 
 qualifications for that important station. 
 
 There was, as has been already intimated, an- 
 other enterprise with which Doctor Griffin about 
 this time became identified, scarcely less important 
 in its bearing upon the interests of truth and piety, 
 than the opening of the Theological Seminary, — 
 viz. the establishment of Park-street church. For 
 nearly seventy years previous to this period, that 
 great system of religious doctrine which had been 
 held by the Pilgrim fathers had been gradually de- 
 clining in the capital of New-England, till it seemed 
 to have well nigh reached the point of utter extinc- 
 tion. It would be a most important service to the 
 cause of Ecclesiastical History to trace minutely 
 
RESIDENCE AT ANDOVER AND BOSTON. 99 
 
 the progress of this decline, and the causes in which 
 it originated ; and it is to be hoped that before this 
 generation shall have passed away, and while the 
 materials for such a chapter in our religious history 
 are easily accessible, some qualified person may be 
 found to address himself to the work. If a remark 
 or two on the subject is not out of place in this 
 connexion, perhaps it is safe to say, that this la- 
 mentable defection is to be traced, more than to 
 any other cause, to the irregularities and extrava- 
 gances that prevailed so extensively in New-England 
 during the revival of 1741 and 1742, in which Da- 
 venport and others of the same stamp had so pro- 
 minent an agency. No doubt that many — perhaps 
 most of these, were truly devoted men, who fully 
 believed that in all their wild and fanatical move- 
 ments they were doing God service; and several of 
 those who had been most conspicuous, especially 
 Davenport himself, not only became convinced of 
 their errors, but retracted them in an honest and 
 christian-like manner ; but still it admits of no ques- 
 tion that their influence upon the church was both 
 disastrous and enduring. It was quite natural that 
 some of those churches which took a stand against 
 them from the beginning and kept it to the end, 
 should have come out of the conflict with fanati- 
 cism with an undue prejudice against religious ex- 
 citement ; and from this there was but a step to a 
 state of chilling formality ; and this was the appro- 
 priate field for the propagation of a lax theology. 
 And it was quite as natural on the other hand, that 
 those churches over which the tempest of fanati- 
 
100 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 cism had swept unresisted, should gradually sink 
 into a state of indifference under the influence of a 
 withering re-action : and here again was the legiti- 
 mate preparation, though effected in a different 
 way, for sowing the seeds of error. About this 
 time arose Doctor Mayhew and Doctor Chauist- 
 CEY, the former an Arian and the latter a Univer- 
 salist of the Restoration school, and both thorough 
 going Arminians, and men of great power and com- 
 manding influence. The evangelical ministers of 
 Boston, though entertaining a cordial dislike for 
 their theological peculiarities, were yet unwilhng to 
 renounce fellowship with them, especially as it was 
 understood that their peculiar views were rather for 
 the study than the pulpit. For thirty or forty years 
 the influence of these distinguished men was ope- 
 rating, silently indeed, but with great power, over 
 most of the churches in Boston and its vicinity; 
 and the secret of their influence no doubt to a great 
 extent was, that though they never preached hetero- 
 doxy, at least in orthodox pulpits, yet their views 
 were generally understood, and the interchange of 
 labors with them by evangelical ministers was con- 
 sidered as a virtual acknowledgment on the part of 
 such ministers, that if their views were not abso- 
 lutely correct, yet they were not deeply erroneous. 
 And the consequence of all this was, that when 
 Doctor Mayhew and Doctor Chauncey left the 
 stage, there was not only a leaven of Arminianism 
 extensively diffused through nearly all the churches 
 to which their influence had extended, but it was 
 well understood that several clergymen of distinc- 
 
ANDOVER AND BOSTON. 101 
 
 tion had secretly embraced their more startUng pecu- 
 liarities. During the last thirty or forty years pre- 
 ceding the commencement of the present century, 
 the theology of Boston was Arminianism gradual- 
 ly declining into Arianism ; and when this century 
 opened, though there had been no direct avowal of 
 any dereliction of evangelical principles, except 
 perhaps on the part of a single church, there were 
 probably not more than one or two pulpits in Bos- 
 ton in which was taught the primitive orthodoxy of 
 New-England. There had been no decree of ba- 
 nishment formally and openly issued against this 
 system of doctrine ; and there were not wanting 
 those who maintained that it was the system still in 
 vogue, except perhaps being a little pruned of some 
 of its more offensive forms of phraseology ; but the 
 truth was, it had been silently, and by almost com- 
 mon consent, driven into exile ; and it came to pass 
 at length that it was as much as a man's reputation 
 was worth to appear openly as its advocate.* There 
 
 * The following extract of a letter on this subject, from the Rev. Dr. 
 Miller, is regarded as too important to'be withheld from the public. 
 
 " There are two sources of this evil which appear to me to deserve par- 
 ticular consideration. The one is the regular system of exchanges of pul- 
 pits, which for a long time pervaded the Boston churches. When I was 
 first acquainted with that city, which is now nearly half a century ago, the 
 system of exchanges was stated and uniform. No man was expected to 
 be found in his own pulpit on Sabbath morning. And as there was known 
 to be great diversity of creed among the ministers of the city, and as every 
 sermon that a pastor wrote was expected to be preached in all the pulpits 
 in town as well as his own, each got into the habit of writing on such a 
 general plan as would give offence to none. Hence those who believed the 
 peculiar doctrines of the gospel seldom brought them forward with any 
 prominence or point; and those who did not, of course, whenever they 
 came near such doctrines, wrapped up their discussion in general and in- 
 oflfensive terms. The consequence was, that the most precious and pecu 
 liar doctrines of the gospel were seldom, from about 1756 or 1760, preached 
 
102 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 were individuals in most of the churches who had 
 long watched the progress of this apostacy with 
 deep concern, and who came at last to feel that a 
 new standard in favor of evangelical religion must 
 be raised in the metropolis, though they foresaw it 
 would be at the expense of breaking many of their 
 most cherished associations, and of accumulating 
 upon themselves a mighty amount of obloquy. 
 Having thoroughly counted the cost of the enter- 
 prise, they resolved upon the formation of a new 
 church, and on the 27th of February, 1809, agreed 
 to adopt the following articles of Faith. 
 
 We the subscribers, having agreed to unite in the establish- 
 ment of a new Congregational Church in Boston, by the 
 name of Park-street Church, think it proper to make a decla- 
 ration of that faith which is the bond of our ecclesiastical 
 union, and which we shall expect to find in all those who 
 shall hereafter participate in our religious privileges and com- 
 munion. 
 
 by any body — i. e. after the decease of Drs. Sewall, Prince, Foxcroft, Webb, 
 &c. Soon after that race of ministers passed away, the war came on ; the 
 order of society was deranged ; general laxity increased ; and it so happen- 
 ed that some of the most erroneous. ministers were high whigs and greatly 
 popular, and of course well adapted to secure a ready reception for their 
 errors. Only let any set of pastors in the world forbear for fifteen or twen- 
 ty years to preach the peculiar doctrines of the Gospel, and the way will 
 be prepared at the end of that time to receive any sentiments which artful 
 and popular men may be disposed to recommend. 
 
 " Another source of the mischief was this: — In the early periods of the 
 administration of our Puritan fathers, there was a close connexion between 
 the church and the state. All the conspicuous leaders in civil society were 
 church-members. Nobody was thought of for any important civil station, 
 but a professor of religion. As vital piety declined, while the leading men 
 wished still to be professors of religion, without which they could scarcely 
 expect the popular suiTrage, they felt that they could not make a profession 
 excepting on some more lax and indulgent system than that which was taught 
 by the Puritan fathers. Calvinism, its consequences and its discipline, were 
 thought too strict; and a more indulgent system was sought in its place. 
 The evils to which this led may easily be imagined." 
 
ANDOVER AND BOSTON. 103 
 
 1. We believe that the Scriptures of the Old and New Tes- 
 tament are the word of God, and the only perfect rule of 
 christian faith and practice. 
 
 2. We profess our decided attachment to that system of the 
 christian religion which is distinguishingly denominated evan- 
 gelical ; more particularly to those doctrines which in a proper 
 sense, are styled the Doctrines of Grace, viz. " That there is 
 one, and but one living and true God, subsisting in three per- 
 sons, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost; and that 
 these Three are one God, the same in substance, equal in 
 power and glory ; that God from all eternity, according to the 
 counsel of His own will, and for his own glory, fore-ordained 
 whatsoever comes to pass; that God in his most holy, wise 
 and powerful providence, preserves and governs all his crea- 
 tures and all their actions; that by the Fall, all mankind lost 
 communion with God, are under his wrath and curse, and lia- 
 ble to all the miseries of this life, to death itself, and to the 
 pains of hell forever ; that God, out of his mere good plea- 
 sure, from all eternity elected some to everlasting life, entered 
 into a covenant of grace, to deliver them from a state of sin 
 and misery, and introduce them into a state of salvation by a 
 Redeemer; that this Redeemer is the Lord Jesus Christ, the 
 eternal Son of God, who became man, and continues to be 
 God and man in two distinct natures and one person forever; 
 that the effectual calling of sinners is the work of God's Spi- 
 rit; that their justification is only for the sake of Christ's 
 righteousness by faith." And though we deem no man or 
 body of men infallible, yet we believe that those divines that 
 were eminently distinguished in the time of the Reformation, 
 possessed the spirit, and maintained in great purity, the pecu- 
 liar doctrines of our holy religion : and that these doctrines are 
 in general clearly and happily expressed in the Westminster 
 Assembly's Shorter Catechism, and in the Confession of Faith 
 owned and consented unto by the Elders and Messengers of 
 the Churches, assembled at Boston, (N. E.) May 12th, A. D. 
 1680. 
 
 3. In regard to our ecclesiastical government and discipline, 
 
104 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 witli our sister churches in this Commonwealth, we adopt the 
 congregational form, as contained in the Platform of Church 
 DiscipUne, gathered out of the word of God, and agreed upon 
 by the Elders and Messengers of the ^Churches, assembled in 
 the Synod at Cambridge, (N. E.) A. D. 1648. 
 
 4. In order to admission to membership in this Church, it is 
 understood that every candidate shall be previously examined, 
 and give credible evidence of a ground of the comfortable hope 
 of a personal condition of grace, through the renovation of the 
 soul, by the special influences of the Holy Spirit, implying re- 
 pentance for sin and faith in Jesus Christ the Redeemer. 
 
 5. We hereby covenant and engage, as fellow christians of 
 one faith, and partakers of the same hope and joy, to give up 
 ourselves unto the Lord, for the observing the ordinances of 
 Christ together in the same society, and to unite together into 
 one body for the public worship of God, and the mutual edifi- 
 cation one of another in the fellowship of the Lord Jesus ; ex- 
 horting, reproving, comforting, and watching over each other, 
 for mutual edification ; — looking for that blessed hope and the 
 glorious appearing of the great God, even our Saviour Jesus 
 Christ, who gave himself for us that he might redeem us from 
 all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people zealous 
 of good works. 
 
 The following is the Form of admission to the 
 church, written by Doctor Griffin. 
 
 You have presented yourselves in this pubUc manner be- 
 fore God, to dedicate yourselves to His service, and to incorpo- 
 rate yourselves with His visible people. You are about to pro- 
 fess supreme love to Him, sincere contrition for all your sins, 
 and faith unfeigned in the Lord Jesus Christ; to enter into a 
 solemn covenant to receive the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
 as they are offered in the Gospel, and to walk in all the com- 
 mandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless. We trust 
 you have well considered the nature of these professions and 
 engagements. The transaction is solemn, and will be attend- 
 
ANDOVKR AND BOSTON. 105 
 
 ed with elernal consequences. God and holy angels are wit- 
 nesses. Your vows will be recorded in heaven, to be exhibit- 
 ed on your trial at the last day. Yet be not overwhelmed. 
 In the name of Christ you may come boldly to the God of 
 grace, and provided only you have sincere desires to be His, 
 may venture thus unalterably to commit yourselves, and trust 
 in him for strength to perform your vows. Attend now to the 
 
 COVENANT. 
 
 In the presence of God, his holy angels, and this assembly, 
 you do now solemnly dedicate yourselves to God the Father 
 as your chief good : to the Son of God as your Mediator and 
 Head, humbly relying on Him, as your Prophet, Priest, and 
 King : and to the Holy Spirit as your Sanctifier, Comforter, 
 and Guide. To this one God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
 you do heartily give up yourselves in an everlasting covenant, 
 to love and obey Him. 
 
 Having subscribed the Articles of Faith and Government 
 adopted by this church, you promise to walk with us in con- 
 formity to them, in submission to all the orders of the Gospel, 
 and in attendance on all its ordinances, and that by the aid 
 of the Di\ane Spirit, you will adorn your profession by a holy 
 and blameless life. 
 
 This you severally profess and engage. 
 
 In consequence of these professions and promises, we affec- 
 tionately receive you as members of this Church, and in the 
 name of Christ declare you entitled to aU its visible privileges. 
 We welcome you to this fellowship with us in the blessings of 
 the Gospel, and on our part engage to watch over you, and 
 seek your edification, as long as you shall continue among us. 
 Should you have occasion to remove, it will be your duty to 
 seek and ours to grant a recommendation to another Church : 
 for hereafter you can never withdraw from the watch and 
 communion of the saints, without a breach of covenant. 
 
 And now, beloved in the Lord, let it he impressed on your 
 minds, that you have entered into solemn circumstances from 
 which you can never escape. Wherever you go, these vows 
 
 Vol.1. 14 
 
106 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 will be upon you. They will follow you to the bar of God, 
 and in whatever world you may be fixed, will abide upon you 
 to eternity. You can never again be as you have been. You 
 have unalterably committed yourselves, and, henceforth, you 
 must be the servants of God. Hereafter the eyes of the world 
 will be upon you : and as you demean yourselves, so religion 
 will be honored or disgraced. If you walk worthy of your 
 profession, you will be a credit and a comfort to us ; but if it 
 be otherwise, you will be to us a grief of heart and a vexa- 
 tion. And if there is a wo pronounced on him who offends 
 one of Christ's little ones, wo, wo, to the person who offends 
 a whole Church! "But beloved, we are persuaded better 
 things of you, and things that accompany salvation, though 
 we thus speak," May the Lord guide and preserve you till 
 <3eath, and at last receive you and us to that blessed world 
 where our love and joy shall be forever perfect. Amen. 
 
 TO THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS. 
 
 Atidover, {Mass.) July, 29ih, 1809. 
 My Dear Brother — 
 
 So long a time has elapsed before I have had a momei^t of 
 leisure to acknowledge your favors of June 24th and July 14th. 
 They gave me the sincerest pleasure, mingled with many 
 other emotions which I need not describe. I am rejoiced to 
 hear repeatedly of the growing attachment of my former 
 charge to you, and the strength which it has already acquired. 
 May you be happy in them ; and may they know how to 
 prize the blessing which God has given them. You judge 
 right when you suppose that I think of you and them, when 
 I have not leisure to write. I have suffered from my separa- 
 tion more than I even expected. But you know what the 
 feelings are. I rejoice greatly that your place is filled at Mor- 
 ristown by our dear brother Fisher. Give my love to him, 
 and tell him that I thank him, and thank God. Give my 
 love to all my dear friends in Newark. They are so many, 
 that I ought not to particularize. I love them all, and hope 
 one day to meet many of them again to part no more. 
 
ANDOVER AND BOSTON. 107 
 
 I know that you and they wish to hear from us of our af- 
 fairs. Dr. Morse and Mr. Thurston, whom you will have 
 seen before the arrival of this, will tell you how the new 
 church prospers in Boston. The house is to be opened by 
 the first of December. A great majority of the male commu- 
 nicants are staunch Edwardeans. 
 
 As to the Seminary, we have 35 students, and new appli- 
 cations almost every week. 
 
 Tuesday, August 1st. You will judge, my dear brother, 
 of my avocations, when you are informed that, since the last 
 date, I have not had time to add one line ; and now I cannot 
 but a few. A spirit of increasing seriousness begins to be ap- 
 parent among the students. They have a number of prayer 
 meetings. Mr. French, the minister of this parish, was sud- 
 denly removed on Friday last, which has made an important 
 opening for a man of evangelical sentiments. One of the 
 last things he did was to settle with the professors a plan of 
 union between the students and parishioners, in regard to 
 prayer meetings. We can now say to the people that their 
 aged minister left it as his dying request, that his people would 
 join the students in these meetings. Such meetings have not 
 been known on this ground before. We cannot but hope that 
 God has some glorious work to accomplish in this region. 
 Pray for us. 
 
 The young gentlemen from New-Jersey are all well — en- 
 tirely well — and contented — and are doing very well. They 
 are highly useful to the other students and to the Institution. 
 Tell Mr. Crane this, and that I intend to answer his very ac- 
 ceptable letter as soon as I have a little leisure. 
 
 Since last spring there has been a pretty large and increas- 
 ing association for fasting and prayer for tire effusions of the 
 Spirit among the ministers of this neighborhood. This augurs 
 well. 
 
 I never consented till to-day to give up my inaugural ora- 
 tion for the press. You will probably one day see the thing. 
 Mrs. Griffin joins in most affectionate remembrance of Mrs. 
 Richards, and yourself, with, yours, inviolably, and, I hope, 
 forever. E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
108 RESIDENCK AT 
 
 Dr. Griffin had scarcely reached Andover and 
 entered upon the duties of his professorship, before 
 his character was most injuriously assailed, and 
 scandalous reports were put in circulation concern- 
 ing him, which were triumphantly repeated on every 
 side by the enemies of truth and piety, and which, 
 from the confidence with which they were trumpet- 
 ed, temporarily gave no small anxiety to many of 
 his friends. As these reports had respect to al- 
 leged improprieties in Newark, the Trustees and 
 Session of his former church, as soon as they heard 
 of the slanderous allegations from which he was 
 suffering, addressed to him the following letter, 
 which contains not only a complete vindication of 
 his character, but a strong expression of their af- 
 fectionate regard. 
 
 Newark^ 22d August, 1809. 
 Rev. and Dear Sir: 
 
 We have lately been informed that reports are circula- 
 ting in Boston and its vicinity, unfavorable to your character, 
 such as your being obliged to leave this congregation — that 
 you was immoral, <fec. As far as those slanders affect your- 
 self personally, we should not have interfered ; being con- 
 vinced that they would be but temporary, and that as soon 
 as you was known, and wherever known, the tongue of slan- 
 der would be silenced. But as we believe that the enmity 
 which is the foundation of these reports, arises from a hatred 
 and opposition to the truths of the gospel, which you so faith- 
 fully preach, more than from a disrespect to yourself, and may 
 for a short time (which is the utmost they can do) injure the 
 glorious cause in which you are engaged, with some minds ; 
 we take the liberty to address you on the subject, and to de- 
 clare — That if the ardent respect, love and affection of your 
 congregation could have detained you, we should still have 
 
ANDOVER AND BOSTOW. 109 
 
 had the happiness of calling you our pastor. Nothing but a 
 conviction and belief that you was called to a scene of more 
 extensive usefulness in the church of God, induced us, from a 
 sense of duty, to submit to your removal. If any thing was 
 wanting to convince the world of the attachment this congre- 
 gation had towards you, the circumstance of your being una- 
 nimously requested to continue with us as long as you could, 
 consistently with your engagements, after )''ou had been, at 
 your own request, regularly dismissed by the Presbytery, and 
 another pastor had been chosen, — your salary and emoluments 
 continued to the day of your departure,- — the crowded church 
 that attended your farewell sermon, — the tears that flowed on 
 your leaving the town, — abundantly furnished this evidence. 
 And be assured, Sir, that although absent, you still live in 
 the affections of the people of your late charge : your exem- 
 plary life, — your ardent zeal for the good of the souls commit- 
 ted to your charge, and your faithful labors amongst us, will 
 not be forgotten, while memory holds a place in our breasts. 
 
 We beseech you not to suffer the calumnies of the enemies 
 of your Master to dispirit you. Remember that you have not 
 attained to the sufferings of your Lord, his apostles, and faith- 
 ful servants who have gone before you. The crown of your 
 rejoicing is sure and certain. Set your face as a flint, and 
 hold out to the end. 
 
 Your affectionate friends, 
 
 D. D. CRANE, 
 ELEAZAR BRUEN, 
 JAMES TICHENOR, 
 JOSEPH CONGAR, \ Elders. 
 ISAAC NICHOLS, 
 MOSES ROBERTS, 
 JOSEPH L. KEEN, 
 
 STEPHEN BALDWIN, ) 
 ISAAC ALLING, } Deacons. 
 
 JABEZ BALDWIN, ) 
 
 ELISHA BOUDINOT, Pres't. 
 
 J. N. CUMMING, 
 
 JOSEPH T. BALDWIN, 
 
 MOSES BALDWIN, > Trustees. 
 
 STEPHEN HAYS, 
 
 ROBERT B. CAMPFIELD, 
 
 NEHEMIAH S. BALDWIN, 
 
110 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 1 do hereby certify that the gentlemen who have subscribed 
 their names to the within letter, are every member of the Ses- 
 sion and Trustees of this church, except one of the Elders, 
 who is absent from town ; and I have no doubt, if it should 
 be thought necessary, that the whole church, comprehending 
 more than five hundred persons, would subscribe the same, 
 with very few or no exceptions. 
 
 JAMES RICHARDS, 
 
 Pastor of the first Presbyterian Congregation of Newark. 
 
 On leaving New-Jersey, Doctor G. was accom- 
 panied by five young men who became students in 
 the new theological seminary. One of these, Mr. 
 Lewis Le Count Congar, sickened and died, while 
 yet in the early part of his theological course. An 
 interesting sketch of his character was published in 
 the Panoplist for September, 1810. The following 
 letters were written by Dr. G. to the parents of Mr. 
 CoNGAR on the occasion of his illness and death. 
 
 Boston, January 2, 1810. 
 My Dear Sir, — 
 
 How often have you and your dear family said, " The Lord 
 reignethj let the earth rejoice." What a blessed thing it is 
 that he has the appointment of all our changes and trials. He 
 has appointed the bounds of our habitation, and the time of 
 our continuing on the earth. He has no need of any of us. 
 He can raise up children lo himself of the stones of the streets, 
 and ministers from the Pagan world. Or he can carry on his 
 work without ministers. You have given a son to Christ, and 
 if he has work for him on the earth, he will preserve him and 
 make him a blessing to the church ; but if he has other de- 
 signs, he will 1 doubt not, take him to himself Whether our 
 dear Lewis is to be made a minister, or an angel, is with God 
 to decide. You will conjecture by this time, that your son is 
 sick. He is not well. Be not alarmed ; God can make 
 him well. At any rate, his will will be done. I have been 
 
ANDOVER AND BOSTON. Ill 
 
 for several days confined to my room with a dreadful cold ; 
 and have the distress of being still confined, so that I cannot 
 go to see him. But sick as I am I cannot refrain from writ- 
 ing to you. Lewis has the typhus fever. The best physicians 
 have been procured for him, and the best attendance. His 
 mind is weak ; but he loves to hear of the name of Christ, and 
 will listen with deep interest and tender affection to every thing 
 that is said about that blessed Saviour. I long to go and see 
 the dear boy. I never before longed so much to do a thing 
 that I could not do. But I must submit. All that I can do I 
 have done. I have sent a request to 0. and C. to let me hear 
 every day from him. And as often as 1 hear, God willing, 
 you shall liear. I beseech you, my dear friends, to summon 
 all your fortitude and ail your rehgion to your aid. Prepare 
 for every thing which God has in store for you. That I have 
 some apprehensions you will suppose, when I inform you that 
 this letter is written, not without tears. The footsteps of God 
 are in the mighty deep ; and his way is not known. Clouds 
 and darkness are round about him ; but justice and judgment 
 are the habitation of his throne. May God Almighty support 
 you, my dear friends, under this trial, is my prayer, and the 
 prayer of Mrs. Griffin who sits by me and weeps. 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 Boston, Jan. 3, 1810. 
 Last night, at 11 o'clock, I sent off a basket of the best 
 things which Boston could afford, by a man who promised to 
 stop at no place, (though the distance is 20 miles,) until he 
 had lodged them in the sick room of the dear boy. They 
 were such things as Dr. Pearson represented to be necessary, 
 viz. oranges, lemons, tamarinds, figs, guaver-jam, sago, and 
 a few bottles of old Madeira wine. We do little else but pray 
 for him ; and the whole college is crying with tears, " Spare 
 him, spare him !" Mrs. Griffin, having wept out all her tears, 
 says " He will hve." I cannot but humbly and earnestly 
 hope that God will spare him for your sakes, and for ours, and 
 
112 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 for the church of Christ. Let no one leave home on his ac- 
 count. He will either recover, or the messenger would arrive 
 too late. With deep affection and sympathy, I am, 
 
 Yours, E. D. G. 
 
 Boston., January Qth, 1810. 
 
 The Almighty God support you, my dear friends, under 
 the trials which you must feel. 1 wish with all my heart that 
 I had any thing agreeable to communicate. And I have — 
 Jesus of Nazareth reigns. The infinite God is happy. And 
 our dear Lewis is happy. Ah my heart, why this aching and 
 trembling? The will of God is done. Lewis himself wished 
 that the will of God might be done. And I am confident that 
 he does not wish to oppose it now. It is with the deepest sym- 
 pathy, my dear friends, that I announce to you an event 
 which has filled our college with tears, and spread a gloom 
 over us all. Lewis left these abodes of pain this morning at 
 10 o'clock. 
 
 My heart aches and bleeds for you. By my own sorrows I 
 know that yours must be extreme. I never knew how to love 
 him till since he left Newark ; and since his sickness I have 
 almost felt that my earthly comfort was at an end. No young 
 man was ever more beloved. For myself I can say of him, 
 what T cannot of many others, that I never saw any thing in 
 him that had the appearance of sin since he has been under 
 my care ; no not the least word or turn of thought. 
 
 He has not lived in vain. He did not come to Andover in 
 vain. He has been the means of good to some souls ; and by 
 his influence on the college, has probably been indirectly the 
 means of some good to thousands. His parents have reason 
 to bless God that they were the means of bringing a son into 
 the world to do so much good as he has done at Andover. 
 
 I know your trial in not being able to see him. I have felt 
 it myself During all the time that he has been considered 
 dangerous, I have been confined to my house. I am still con- 
 fined, and cannot attend his funeral to-morrow. His dust 
 will lie in a strange land ; but mind not that. It will not be 
 
ANDOVER AND BOSTON. il3 
 
 lost or overlooked. It will be gathered and restored to him 
 and to you. I have much to say. I pity you with all my 
 heart. I know not that I was ever so tenderly tried before. 
 May God support you and comfort you all. 
 
 Affectionately yours, E. D. G. 
 
 Boston, Jan. 7, Sabbaih, 5 o'clock P. M. 
 
 This hour they are burying our dear child ! And as I can 
 think of nothing else, I sit myself down to commune with 
 his afflicted parents and sisters. No creature so dear to me 
 ever left this earth. I am thinking of his pleasant manners, 
 by which he comforted us by the way, when we left at New- 
 ark almost all that was dear to us ; and how he helped Mrs. 
 Griffin and Louisa over the hills. I am thinking of his spright- 
 ly gambols in our fields and our summer house, and how de- 
 lighted he was with every scene, which he served to render 
 more delightful. 1 am thinking of his attentions to me in 
 sickness; his aflectionate sympathy, and mature judgment, 
 by which he soothed and strengthened me during all my trou- 
 bles since I left you. Verily he has not died in my debt. He 
 has more than compensated me for all my attentions to him. 
 In following summers, every object in our fields will bring the 
 dear youth fresh to my thoughts. And if his body is permit- 
 ted to remain there, I shall often visit his grave, and bathe it 
 with my tears. It will be a spot ever sacred and dear to me. 
 I and my family shall yet be with him, and rise with him at 
 the last day. He has been a great comfort to me. Surely he 
 did not come to Andover in vain. I have had some distress- 
 ing thoughts about being the means of taking him from New- 
 ark ; and I suppose that you may be tempted to say, " If he 
 had not left Newark, he would not have died." But, my 
 friends, it is all the appointment of heaven. Eternal wisdom 
 fixed it that he should die at that time and place; and per- 
 haps more good will result to the college, and through that to 
 tile churches, from his death, than he would have done had 
 he lived. He was to come, and was to die in a strange land; 
 and you and I were to weep under the great loss. And great 
 
 Vol. I. 15 
 
114 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 it iy. Few parents ever lost more in a single son. But con- 
 sider, my dear friends, how many comforts you have left. You 
 have two dear children : and they have two dear parents. 
 May you live long to be a mutual comfort to each other. We 
 had just licensed him to preach, when God translated him to 
 the church triumphant. I can give no other reason for it than 
 that he was too refined by divine grace to hve in this gross 
 and polluted world. 
 
 Think not, my dear friends, that you have lost yom* pains 
 in giving him an education. No, you have been fitting him 
 for more than a pulpit, — for a higher throne in heaven. The 
 expansion of mind which his education has given him, will 
 probably render him a more illustrious instrument of God's 
 glory, and make him a more capacious vessel to contain hap- 
 piness, while the kingdom endures. You have not lost any 
 of your pains, nor any of your prayers for him. Few parents 
 have been so much honored, as to raise up and send such a 
 son to assist the praises of the assembly of the first born. 
 There he is ! Think not of him on a bed of sickness, — in a 
 land of strangers, — away from his parents and sisters. Think 
 of him on Mount Zion. There is all that is Lewis. The rest 
 is mere dust. We have not lost him. He is only gone a lit- 
 tle before us. Ten thousand worlds would not tempt him to 
 return. There we shall soon find him and enjoy him again, 
 and forever- — and far better than we ever did in this world. 
 Ah, my heart ! why this bleeding and breaking? Did we not 
 know a year ago that Lewis must remove? If the church 
 mio-ht not go to heaven, in vain would be a gospel ministry, 
 and revivals of religion. It was indeed desirable to keep him 
 with us a little longer. But I now perceive that our past re- 
 vivals were not so much intended to raise up comforts for us 
 in this world, or to fit men to preach the gospel, as to fit souls 
 for that eternal society to which our dear Lewis has gone. 
 Oh may my thoughts be more loosed from earth, and fix on 
 that glorious assembly of our fathers and brethren, which has 
 been increasing since the days of Adam. There is Lewis ! 
 There will soon be his parents and sisters. And there I hope 
 
ANDOVER AND BOSTON. 115 
 
 soon to meet you all, to part no more forever. Blessed world ! 
 No death, no parting', no sorrow, no sin! Stay tlierc, dear 
 child ! No longer a child — my superior ! my angel ! stay there ! 
 .[ would not entice thee if I could, from those regions of bliss 
 and glory. 
 
 Mrs. Griffin weeps almost all the time, I join with her in 
 the tenderest sympathy, and in prayers that God may abun- 
 dantly support you. 
 
 Your afflicted and affectionate friend, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 TO THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS. 
 
 Boston, Jan. IBth, 1810. 
 My Dear Brother: 
 
 If you knew all the reasons which have kept me so long 
 silent, you would excuse me, if you did not feel something 
 approaching- nearer to compassion. I have had no leisure, 
 and no heart to write. Lately we have been greatly afflicted 
 by the death of our ever dear young friend Mr. Congar. He 
 left the world as we all should wish to leave it, and has left a 
 name behind like the fragrance of precious ointment. I hope 
 that you will do all in your power to comfort the dear afflict- 
 ed family. Some of the j'oung men at Andover intend to 
 send to the parents a minute account of all he said during his 
 sickness. 
 
 Our college (for so it is called) contains about 50 students. 
 The serious attention in that town continues, and, I hope, in- 
 creases. But where ignorance of evangelical truth so much 
 abounds, much is to be done in the way of instruction, before 
 many fruits can be expected to appear. 
 
 On Tuesday last, Mrs. G. made me happy by the present 
 of another daughter. She and the child are doing well. On 
 Wednesday we dedicated our new church. The house was 
 crowded, as it was three times yesterday. The dedication 
 sermon was preached on an occasion extremely interesting, 
 delicate, and hazardous. The church had been from the be- 
 ginning viewed as a monster, which was erecting its head. 
 
116 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 and opening its mouth, to swallow up men, women ^nd child- 
 ren, and which by its terrifying roar was about to drive sleep 
 from every family in the town, and to scare people of weak 
 nerves out of their wits. It was ascertained that most of the 
 ministers in the town and its vicinity would be present on the 
 occasion. It was a primary object to remove prejudice, with- 
 out losing the grand opportunity to call the public mind to the 
 difference between our religion and the religion of Boston. 
 How I succeeded, you will presently see. I shall have to give 
 up the sermon, which I expect will be the beginning of the 
 campaign. You will judge of the spirit with which the war 
 is about to be begun, when I tell you that within a few hours 
 after the sermon was delivered, a subscription paper was print- 
 ed, unknown to me, and more than 1000 copies subscribed 
 for. I intend to send the sermon and the inaugural oration 
 (not yet printed) to you in a few weeks. 
 
 You can form no adequate idea of the strength of Satan's 
 kingdom in this town and its vicinity. The injury w^hich 
 Chauncey, and a few other men, have done to the church in 
 this region, is incalculable. Our church has been overwhelm- 
 ed with contempt. ****** rpj^^ Catholicism of 
 Boston is the most intolerant bigotry that I ever witnessed 
 when directed towards the religion of Christ. It is a fiend 
 which never wears a smile but when its eye is directed towards 
 the most abominable errors. But I must not rail at this rate. 
 I am drawing towards the end of my sheet. Give my kind- 
 est regards to your dear family, and to all j^our dear people 
 who inquire after me, and to our brethren in the ministry, 
 brothers Hill3^er, McDowell, Thompson, &c. I love them all 
 and never knew how well I loved them till since I feel their 
 loss. I have much to say, but have no more time nor room. 
 Write, me soon, and tell me all the news. 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
ANDOVER A.ND BOSTON. 117 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Bostoji, March (Sth, 1810. 
 
 * * I was much gratified by your approbation of my sermon 
 and oiation. The former does not give so much satisfaction 
 to some folks here. A httle periodical work entitled " Some- 
 thing," has been nibbhng at it for several weeks ; and the last 
 number of the Anthology opened its mouth, as wide as a 
 shark's, and devoured it at once. They have proved that the 
 style is horrid, that the doctrines are worse, and that I have 
 made at least four or five persons in the Trinity. They have 
 offered a fair occasion for the friends of truth to give them 
 some edifying lessons. The campaign is fairly begun. How 
 it will end, the Lord knows. Let not those who put on the 
 armor, boast as those who put it off. Some of your southern 
 goose-quills must be drawn in the combat, lest they should 
 drive us out of the land. 
 
 Our house continues to be filled much in the same manner 
 as when I wrote you last. We have sold or rented nearly a 
 hundred pews. You have no conception of the falsehoods 
 which are propagated, and the pains which are taken, to pre- 
 vent people from coming to our church. But the more they 
 try to prevent, the more the people will not mind them. Pre- 
 judice is fast wearing away. 
 
 We have given Dr. Nott a unanimous call ; and expect to 
 hear from him this week. Mr. Stuart, late of New-Haven, 
 was inaugurated, as professor of sacred literature, last week. 
 The stories about Dr. Pearson's abusing me, or quarrelling 
 with me, or being unfriendly to me, are all false. He resigned 
 on account of age and infirmity. He is a good man, and is 
 sti4l an active and very useful friend of our college. 
 
 There is a very considerable revival of religion at Salem, 
 Marblehead, and several other towns in the vicinity. O that 
 the sacred influence might reach Boston ! I preach on Thurs- 
 day evenings in our vestry. People attend well, and appear 
 solemn. There are also many prayers put up for the divine 
 influence. This is all we can say. 
 
 Last sabbath we had our first sacrament. It was an inte- 
 
118 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 resting clay. In the afternoon I baptized our infant, by the 
 name of Ellen Maria. It was the first child baptized in the 
 house. * * * * * * * * 
 
 We have now between fifty and sixty students in our college. 
 We talk of building another college and chapel, as the first col- 
 lege is nearly filled. 
 
 I am happy to hear of the increasing affection of your pa- 
 rish for their pastor. I hope you may enjoy many happy 
 days with that dear people. ***** 
 
 * * * ]y[^.g Q joins me in the kindest love to you and 
 Mrs. Richards. Ever yours, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Boston, Nov. 2Uh, 1810. 
 
 * * * After a scene of ceaseless distraction for a year 
 and a half, which has been principally owing, as I now per- 
 ceive, to my own pride and idolatry, I am quietly housed for 
 the winter, with my family, in the family of one of our con- 
 gregation, as boarders ; having obtained from Andover a dis- 
 pensation to enable me to devote my whole time to the con- 
 gregation for four months. Having now but one world upon 
 me, and being exempt from family cares, I am enabled, with- 
 out distraction, to devote my whole time and heart to my fa- 
 vorite employment, the labors of the parish. Last winter was 
 spent in preparing the way for this, rather than in doing any 
 thing. I think there is a change for the better in our church. 
 They seem to be getting the better of their two great sins, 
 pride and dependance upon man. A succession of disappoint- 
 ments and trials has, I think, been the means of humbliMg 
 them. A number are earnestly praying for a revival of reli- 
 gion, and are even strongly expecting it. Our meetings are 
 becoming more solemn. What is before us I don't know ; 
 but unless God speedily interpose, it does seem as though the 
 cause must be given up. My dear brother, pray for us, and 
 engage our dear friends in Newark, and our brethren in the 
 neighborhood, (to all whom I send my love,) to pray for us. 
 
ANDOVEK AND BOSTON. 119 
 
 It is u inoiiientoud crisis in oui aiiairs, God only can deliver 
 us. 
 
 No answer yet from Dr. Nott. But persons who have lately 
 seen him say, as I have always believed, that he will not 
 come. He is himself confident that his health will not admit 
 of it. What then is to be done ? I have at length made up 
 my mind that I cannot, after this winter, be connected with 
 two worlds. This is the firm conviction of myself, of Mrs. 
 G. and of all my friends both at Andover and Boston. The 
 thing then is settled, and understood, and is what all sides 
 will agree to. If then a young man is settled in Park-street, 
 he must stand alone and unsupported. Will this do 7 Who 
 of you all will come to Park-street? If no body else will, 
 must I come ? Pray converse with some of our friends in 
 Newark, and our brethren around about, and give me your 
 best advice. As soon as I get time, I intend to write to Mr. 
 Boudinot, Mr. Crane, &c. to whom, and to all other special 
 friends give my love as though they were named. Mrs. G. 
 joins in kindest love to you and Mrs. Richards ; with, dear 
 brother, 
 
 Yours, most affectionately, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 The clergyman to whom Park-street church gave 
 their first call was Doctor Henry Kollock of Sa- 
 vannah, well known as having been one of the most 
 eloquent preachers which this country has pro- 
 duced. He, however, after having had it for a con- 
 siderable time under consideration, declined it in 
 September, 1809 ; and immediately after Doctor G. 
 was unanimously chosen to the same place, with 
 the assurance of as large a salary as was paid to 
 any congregational minister in Boston. As he hap- 
 pened to be present when the call was made out, he 
 stated on the spot that there were many reasons 
 why his acceptance of it was quite out of the ques- 
 
120 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 tion; the most important one of which no doubt 
 was, that he felt himself at that time bound to the 
 Theological Seminary. Subsequently, however, as 
 appears from the preceding letter, his views of duty 
 on this subject gradually underwent a change ; and 
 after he had temporarily intermitted his labors at 
 the seminary that he might devote himself solely 
 to the interests of the congregation, and after they 
 had extended their call to several distinguished in- 
 dividuals, and in each case had received a negative 
 answer, they unanimously renewed their call to 
 him, Feb. 1, 1811, under circumstances which led 
 him to think that possibly the indications of Provi- 
 dence were in favor of his acceptance of it. Al- 
 most immediately after this became known to the 
 students of the institution, they addressed him the 
 following letter, expressive of their warm attach- 
 ment, and of their strong desire that he might re- 
 tain his connexion with the seminary. 
 
 Divinity College, March 28th, 1811. 
 Rev. and Dear Sir : 
 
 We have been informed that you find it impracticable to 
 discharge the duties of your professorship in this institution, 
 and those which result from your connexion with the church 
 and congregation in Boston. "We have also been informed, 
 that they have recently given you a unanimous and pressing 
 call, to become their pastor. And apprehending that, from 
 these conflicting claims, there is a possibility of your dissolv- 
 ing the connexion ^vhich you sustain with this institution ; 
 we take the hberty, Dear Sir, to express to you our feelings and 
 wishes on this subject. Although we feel deeply concerned in 
 the interests of that congregation, and view its prosperity of 
 great importance, still, in our estimation, the religious inte- 
 rests connected with this seminary, are of such an extent, 
 
ANDOVER AND BOSTON. l^^l 
 
 as to furnish a superior claim to your attention antl services. 
 We are impressed, Sir, with the belief that, should you leave 
 us, our loss would be great, if not irreparable. Under the in- 
 fluence of these considerations, we earnestly request you, for 
 our personal benefit, for the general good of this sacred insti- 
 tution, and for the momentous interests of the church, to con- 
 tinue the relation which you sustain to us. Be assured. Sir, 
 that we shall feel it a great privation, to lose the privilege of 
 looking to you, in connexion with your colleagues, as our fa- 
 ther and our friend. 
 
 Presuming that you will take into due consideration these 
 our unanimous suggestions, and wishing you the best conso- 
 lations which religion affords, we subscribe ourselves in behalf 
 of our brethren, your obediejit servants 
 
 T. WOODBRIDGE, 
 A. NASH, 
 D. SMITH, 
 
 College Committee. 
 
 To which Doctor Griffin returned the follow- 
 mg answer. 
 
 Divinity College, March 29, 1811. 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 Your affectionate letter gave me all the pleasure which 
 you intended. I am gratified to find that my official services 
 are regarded with so much kindness by the members of the 
 college ; and am affected with the obliging expression of their 
 v.ishes for my happiness. I thank you. Gentlemen, for the 
 delicate manner in which these sentiments have been con- 
 veyed to me; and, through you, I present my acknowledg- 
 ments to all the young gentlemen of the Institution. The 
 confidence and the wishes which they have expressed are cer- 
 tainly entitled to much attention, and will be duly considered 
 in the estimate of reasons which are to influence my decision. 
 Under the pressing and contending claims of the two objects, 
 I feel it my duty to ask them to carry the subject to the throne 
 
 Vol. I. 16 
 
122 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 of grace, and to be earnest in their supplications that I may 
 know the will of God. If the result should not be such as 
 they desire, it will be owing to the necessities of an important 
 church, and not to any indifference to their improvement and 
 happiness. I am, gentlemen, 
 
 Very affectionately yours, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 In a letter to Doctor Richards, dated April 16, 
 1811, Dr. G. writes thus: — " Since I wrote last I 
 have learned that the young men in the college 
 have unanimously, as they state, made an address 
 to Mr. Bartlett, praying him to press me still 
 further to continue here. The feelings of the young 
 men, and the friendship of Mr. Bartlett, have 
 produced some conflict in my mind ; but I still be- 
 lieve that the providence of God points me to Bos- 
 ton." Accordingly, in a communication dated May 
 1, he signified his acceptance of the call, and was 
 installed pastor of the church, July 31, 1811, by an 
 ecclesiastical council of Congregational ministers 
 and delegates from the vicinity of Boston ; having 
 previously received a dismission from the Presby- 
 tery to which he belonged, and a recommendation 
 to the Union Association of Boston and vicinity. 
 The sermon on the occasion was preached by the 
 Rev. Dr. Worcester, of Salem. 
 
 The following letter to his brother, George 
 Griffin, Esq. shows what were the prevailing con- 
 siderations that influenced him in his ultimate re- 
 moval from Andover to Boston. 
 
ANDOVER AND BOSTON. 123 
 
 Boston, April 29th, 1811. 
 Dear Brother, 
 
 After being tossed for two years, and kept in a state of 
 restlessness, without a home, and crushed with the cares of 
 Andover and Boston united, I have at last found a home, a 
 place of rest, as far as this world can afford one. I have re- 
 signed my office at Andover, and am here with my family. 
 On the first day of May I expect to move into a pleasant 
 house, in a delightful part of the town. 
 
 Such were the perishing necessities of this congregation, 
 which presents a stand the most important, as has repeatedly 
 been said, of any in Christendom, that the friends of the col- 
 lege are not displeased with the step I have taken. The 
 young gentlemen in the college, of which there are about 50, 
 made a strong effort to retain me. They presented to me an 
 affectionate and " unanimous" address, requesting me to stay : 
 and not content with this, they wrote to Mr. Bartlett, reciuest- 
 ing him to use further exertions for the purpose. But they 
 submit without any hard thoughts since they know my deter- 
 mination. I left Andover last week. 
 
 This congregation were pressed with a debt of about $-30,000, 
 which they had contracted for their house. They could not 
 sell their pews, for want of a minister ; and they could not 
 much longer bear up under the debt. They were discouraged 
 by repeated disappointments in their attempts to obtain a pas- 
 tor, and were determined to look no further. If I did not 
 come, they declared that they must sell their house, and dis- 
 band : and the fall of this congregation would have spread de- 
 struction far and wide. But if I would come, individuals 
 stood ready to assume the debt, and secure the meeting-house, 
 which was mortgaged, from hazard of being sold to Socini- 
 ans. This has been done. The debt is discharged ; and the 
 congregation is in a fair way to live and increase. The house 
 is thronged on Sabbath evening. If God be for us, who can 
 be against us ? 
 
 Last fall and winter the enemy did all in their power to do 
 stroy the congregation and me. But, blessed be God ! we yet 
 
124 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 live, and live uninjured. Tlie storm is past, and the tide 
 seems now to be strongly turning in our favor. We feel no 
 alarm. What trials may await us we leave to God, who, as 
 he has done, can carry us safely through ; and he can bring 
 us to his heavenly kingdom. Fanny and the children are 
 well, and join me in love to you and yours. 
 Your affectionate brother, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 TO THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS. 
 
 Boston, Sept. Uth, 1811. 
 ***** God is appearing for brother Huntington's 
 support. There is evidently a work of grace beginning 
 among his people. His old praying women, who belonged to 
 Whitefield's da}^, say that so good appearances have not been 
 seen in Boston since 1771. But our church is still dead, and 
 still looking to an arm of flesh. We have not got enough 
 yet. We shall have to receive more scourging before we shall 
 be fit for any work. Of all creatures, some of us seemed the 
 most unlikely to be selected to make such a stand in Boston. 
 Whether the selection was of God or man, time must deter- 
 mine. Pray for us. E. D. G. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Bostoji, April 22d, 1812. 
 My Dear Brother, 
 
 Your favor of Feb. 3d has lain by me a long time, for 
 reasons that every minister can guess, when he looks at his 
 parish. But, my beloved brother, my heart is often with you. 
 You are among the few friends on earth whom I love without 
 any ifs or bids. I am lejoiced to hear by Mr. Sanford, who 
 called upon me this morning, that appearances are more fa- 
 vorable among you. I rejoice for your sake, as well as for 
 more general reasons. You went to Newark at the close of a 
 great revival. The thing was done, and could not be conti- 
 nued. I had the privilege of being there in harvest time; 
 and you came in the fall of the year ; a winter followed of 
 course ; but a spring you will see, and then a harvest. " They 
 
ANDOVER AND BOSTON. 125 
 
 that sow in tears sliall reap in joy. He that goeth forth and 
 weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again 
 with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him," May the 
 Lord make you the father of many spiritual children in that 
 dear section of the great family ! 
 
 I find it not in my power to visit Newark this spring; but, 
 God willing, I firmly intend to bring Mrs. G. next spring, 
 I cannot leave my people so long at present. There are some 
 appearances which I must stay at home to watch. The lat- 
 ter part of February I was so much encouraged that I insti- 
 tuted a conference exclusively for persons under serious im- 
 pressions. Precisely thirty have attended ; four or five of 
 whom, I trust, have become real christians. 1 have conversed 
 with some others out of doors whose minds are tender. Our 
 meetings generally are certainly more solenm than they were. 
 But the church, with a few exceptions, are still asleep. We 
 expect to admit twelve new members, (with, and without cer- 
 tificates,) at our next sacrament. We admitted tAventy-seven 
 the last year, from the first of March to the first of March, 
 Brother, pray for us. 
 
 I have had very aflecting news lately from my brother in 
 New- York. He and his friends believe him to have become 
 a subject of grace. I know you will rejoice with me, and help 
 me praise the Lord for his great goodness. I hope my brother 
 may be of some little service to the common cause in this day 
 of agitation in that city. What are they doing? What aileth 
 them"^ Who has stirred up all this strife? Do write me all 
 about it. The whole camp appears to be alarmed. There 
 certainly is fear, combined with some rancor, ***** 
 * * Is the land of Jersey shaken with the earthquake? 
 Do the steeples of Newark totter ? * * * Is your head 
 upon your shoulders ? How is dear brother Hillyer ? I long to 
 have a long brotherly letter from him, and to see him in Bos- 
 ton. Give my very particular love to him, and tell him all this. 
 Mrs. G. joins in most affectionate remembrance to Mrs. Rich- 
 ards and yourself, with your friend and brother, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
126 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Boston, May 2d, 1812. 
 My Dear Brother, 
 
 Having written to you so lately, I have nothing new to 
 write. But I cannot let so favorable an opportunity pass with- 
 out dropping you a hne — perhaps a sheet full. 
 
 I rejoice exceedingly to hear of the favorable symptoms in 
 some of your towns, and in New- York. I hope strongly that 
 the God of 1802 and 1807 will make 1812 (the space of five 
 years in both cases) a day of his power in those twenty con- 
 gregations. Is it not just the time, my dear brother, to revive 
 your preaching tours 1 God has blessed them twice ; may he 
 not bless them the third time ? 
 
 In regard to us, things remain much as when I wrote last. 
 Thirty-four have attended our Tuesday evening conference, 
 under serious impressions ; but the church, with few excep- 
 tions, are still asleep. Our congregation, gathered from all 
 parts, with habits formed under cold preaching, present a cold 
 spectacle, much unhke the congregation of Newark. They 
 must be melted down into one mass by an electric shock from 
 heaven. God send the shock in his own time ! 
 
 I thank you for the notice you take of my dear brother's 
 case. It has affected me most deeply, as you may well sup- 
 pose. I wish you could see him some time when you are in 
 New- York. He needs help from you. I wish he may be 
 thoroughly grounded and settled in the truth, and lend his aid 
 to support orthodoxy in this day of agitation. * * * * 
 
 * * * * I have lately become one of the overseers of 
 Cambridge College. About the time of my coming here the 
 Socinians got a law passed by our Assembly to exclude the 
 Senate from the board, except the President, (under pretence 
 of keeping out democracy,) to disfranchise the six towns, 
 whose ministers were ex ojjicio members of the board, and to 
 give power to the board to fill up its own vacancies. The 
 chief object probably was to keep out those orthodox ministers 
 who might, in this turn of times, be settled in said towns. 
 Last winter the democratic Assembly repealed the law, in their 
 
ANDOVER AND BOSTON. 127 
 
 own vindication, and Mr. Thacher and I rode in upon their 
 shoulders. 1 hope I never may have a worse horse ! 
 
 Mrs. G. joins in most affectionate regards to Mrs, Richards 
 and yourself, with, dear Sir, 
 
 Your cordial friend and brother, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Written immediately after hearing the melancho- 
 ly tidings of the death of Mrs. Gumming, wife of 
 Rev. Hooper Gumming, who was instantly killed 
 by being precipitated down the falls of the Pasaick. 
 
 Boston, July 1st, 1812. 
 My Dear Brother, 
 
 I received your letter of last week and read it with such sen- 
 sations as you can easily imagine. The dreadful account had 
 reached us before. I immediately wrote what I could to our 
 poor afflicted friend. The mysterious dispensation has pro- 
 duced a strong impression here. Your letter has been read to 
 numbers ; it has been borrowed and carried out of the house ; 
 a copy of it is now taking by an aunt of Mrs. Gumming. 
 Many tears have flowed, and many prayers have ascended 
 for the bereaved husband. How mysterious are the dispensa- 
 tions of providence ! We must bow ourselves to the earth, 
 and say, His ways are not as our ways, nor his thoughts as 
 our thoughts. What a comfort it is, amidst the confusions 
 of this trying life, to know that infinite wisdom keeps the 
 throne, and well knows what he is doing ! The sea may 
 rage, our shattered bark, amidst the darkness of night, may 
 rise to the clouds, and plunge to the centre, but our Pilot is at 
 helm. Were it riot for that, we should never hope to see 
 morning more. But with that protection we shall ride safely 
 through the rage of elements, and the confusions of a dis- 
 jointed world, and enter a haven secluded from the storms. 
 It was never a matter of more joy than at the present moment 
 that the Lord God omnipotent reigneth. 
 
128 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 I pray, and even hope, that this distressing event will be 
 the means of a glorious revival of religion in Newark. Tell 
 the people that they must not let it pass without such an issue. 
 It is a call to every man, woman and child in the town, right 
 from the mouth of God, as loud as any that will ever be heard, 
 perhaps, before the last trumpet. They must listen, or, (I 
 had almost said,) they are all dead men. This is the mo- 
 ment too, for christians to lie on their faces before the God 
 who is passing by — the very moment to cry to him with 
 groanings that cannot be resisted — to carry out all their child- 
 ren from their houses, and lay them in the street before the 
 awful Majesty that is passing by. O may the whole town 
 stand and bow before him, and hear not his voice in vain ! * * 
 
 * * * * Mrs. G. and myself have just returned from a 
 journey to Connecticut. God is pouring out his Spirit in sun- 
 dry places in that state and in this. I hope to hear good tid- 
 ings from Newark. Nothing very different here. Mrs. G. 
 joins in every sentiment of love and kindness to Mrs. R. and 
 yourself, with your affectionate brother. 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 In the winter of 1812-1813, Doctor Griffin deli- 
 vered his Park-street lectures, on successive sabbath 
 evenings, to a crowded audience collected from all 
 classes of society. These lectures awakened the 
 deepest attention both of friends and foes ; and it is 
 hardly necessary to say that they have passed 
 through several editions, and have long since taken 
 a prominent place among the standard theological 
 works of our country. 
 
 TO THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS. 
 
 Boston, August 23d, 1813. 
 My Dear Brother, 
 
 I owe you many apologies for my long silence ; but either 
 I have more to do than ever I had before, or else I become 
 slower in my motions as age increases. I do not get time to 
 
ANDOVER AND BOSTON. 129 
 
 write to my friends. I have scarcely written a letter for nine 
 months till very lately. 
 
 I have rejoiced, my brother, in all the mercy and truth 
 with which God has visited you, and the dear people of your 
 charge. I cannot be indifferent to any thing that is calculated 
 to make either you or them happy, and least of all to so glo- 
 rious a scene as this. May the work increase, and extend, 
 and never cease. 
 
 I rejoice to hear of the strong and increasing attachment of 
 your congregation to their pastor. I hope you and dear Mrs. 
 Richards by this time feel yourselves at home, and that you 
 both and your children will continue to enjoy all the happi- 
 ness which this poor world can give, and all the happiness 
 which can be found in a covenant God. ***** 
 
 * * * * Our affairs here go on pretty much in the old 
 way. The small degree of divine influence with which we 
 have been favored, has brought ninety-one persons to our in- 
 quiring meeting, witliin a year and a half; thirty-nine of 
 whom have come in since the first of December. About that 
 time a new momentum was given to the thing which is not 
 yet altogether spent. Sabbath after next I expect to admit to 
 the church eleven persons from the world. Still there are trials 
 and discouragements which sometimes almost tempt me to 
 give out. Boston folks will be Boston folks still. They will 
 not retrench a habit, nor lose a nap at church, to save their 
 lives. Had I known as much as I now do, I never would 
 have left the Presbyterian world ; and if my conscience would 
 suffer me, I would enter it again as soon as I could. * * 
 
 * * * We are in peace, but a peace attended with more 
 stupidity than comfort. I am afraid to say any more. 
 
 Excuse my haste. 1 have many letters to write. Mrs. G. 
 joins in most affectionate regards to Mrs. Richards, and your- 
 self, and the children, with, dear Sir, 
 
 Your friend and brother, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 Vol. I. 17 
 
J30 . RESFDENCE AT 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Boston, April 12th, 1814. 
 * * * * I have no good news to communicate respect- 
 ing our affairs in Boston. It does not please the Head of the 
 Church to refresh us with his influence, and we all remain as 
 cold and hard as rocks. I am afraid to come among you in 
 such a day as this, lest I should serve, with what little influ- 
 ence I have, to chill you. But I need to be warmed, though 
 it be at your expense. 
 
 I am, my dear brother, 
 
 Most affectionately yours, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 TO HIS DAUGHTER FRANCES LOUISA. 
 
 Boston, July 25th, 1814. 
 My dear Daughter, 
 
 Before this time you have received "The Memoirs of 
 Mrs. Newell," which your mother sent you. It is my earnest 
 desire, and parental injunction, that you read that book through 
 at least twice in the course of the summer and autumn, that 
 you draw the example there set clearly before your eyes, and 
 give the most earnest diligence and care to copy it in your 
 heart and life. I wish you, in short, to set up that blessed 
 woman for your model, both in respect to her early, ardent, 
 self-denying piety, and to the modesty, sweetness, delicacy, af- 
 fection, and attention to the feelings of others, which marked 
 her social character. Providence has raised her up at your 
 own door, in the midst of the circle in which your father 
 moves, and given our family, as connected with the mission 
 in which she displayed her brightest lustre, a sort of property 
 in her character. The whole of that property I bequeath to 
 you. Take her for your own, and ingraft all her excellencies 
 upon your own character. How often have I said, with all 
 the tender commotion of a parent's heart, " Oh, let that cha- 
 racter be my Louisa's !" 
 
 Mrs. Newell was younger than you are, my daughter, when 
 she first gave herself to Christ. She could place her heart at 
 rest on the centre of her soul, her Saviour's bosom, at the age 
 
ANDOVER AND BOSTON. 131 
 
 of thirteen ; and where are your affections roving? Arc you 
 not under as great obligations as she was? I wish you also 
 to look at the womanly sentiments and style of her letters and 
 diary at the age of thirteen, and often compare your own pro- 
 gress with hers. Do you keep a diary ? 
 
 Your main attention ought to be paid to the government of 
 your temper. That is an enemy which you must bring un- 
 der early and learn to keep in steady subjection, or it will ga- 
 ther strength as you advance, till it becomes too strong to be 
 controlled. And when it has once estabhshcd an ascendancy, 
 farewell to peace, farewell to the good will of others, and, with- 
 out almost a miracle, farewell to salvation. You must get it 
 completely in your j)ower while you are young, and accustom 
 it to obey, or calculate on a wretched old age. Establish, 
 then, the rule of bringing its motions each day to a rigid exa- 
 mination at night ; and never sleep till you have mourned be- 
 fore God for its irregularities that day, and implored strength 
 to curb it for time to come. But you must go deeper si ill. 
 The root of the evil lies in a selfish spirit, which nothing can 
 cure but that love to God and man which constitutes the es- 
 sence of all religion. In religion, then, you must seek the only 
 effectual remedy. Oh, my daughter, look to Christ for this. 
 Cry to him mightily ; cry to him day and night. 
 
 Next to the government of your temper, you must culti- 
 vate an obliging disposition towards all. In things where you 
 may, learn to subject your wishes to the wishes of others, to 
 prefer their gratification to your own. This is the essence of 
 true politeness; and if prompted by proper motives, is an es- 
 sential part of true religion. I must remind you also to avoid 
 two things utterly repugnant to female loveliness. I mean an 
 independent carriage and too great forwardness. A benevo- 
 lent regard to the feelings, and a modest deference to the cha- 
 racters of others, will cure both of these evils. But I would 
 have you distinguish between modesty and bashfulness. The 
 former is the loveUest trait of female beauty ; the latter turns 
 every thing into awkward deformity. 
 
 * * ' * My dear daughter, you are no longer a child, 
 
132 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 but of the age when Mrs. Newell was exhibiting a character 
 to be the model of future generations. 
 
 * * * * We were sorry to hear that you are learning 
 to play without using your voice. We must utterly protest 
 against this. We believe you can sing ; but if we are mista- 
 ken in this, we wish you to take no more lessons in music. 
 
 Let me hear, from time to time, what books you read at 
 your leisure hours. Some, adapted to enlarge your stock of 
 ideas, and to improve your taste, should make a part of the 
 objects of your attention every week. 
 
 I Avish you to pay all due attention to . It will be a 
 
 sufficient argument, I hope, with you, that she is unfortunate. 
 Let me be informed on this point. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 The following record of the deaths of Doctor 
 Griffin's parents, &c. was made by him in 1832. 
 
 While I was in Boston in March, 1814, I was summoned 
 to the sick bed of my dear mother, who, for many years had 
 had the consumption. She died in my arms at nine o'clock 
 on sabbath evening, April 3, 1814, aged 81. My honored 
 father died the 6th of August following, aged 80. Of my 
 four grand-parents, and two parents, all surpassed the age of 
 80, except my grandfather Dorr, and he nearly reached that 
 age. To this day, when I am more than 62 years old, I 
 have never lost a brother nor sister, wife nor child, and the 
 youngest of eight children of my parents is now more than 54 
 years old. Thus has the mercy of God dealt with us. 
 
 TO HIS BROTHER GEORGE. 
 
 Bostofi- August 21st, 1814. 
 Dear Brother, 
 
 Before this reaches you, you will have heard that our 
 dear father is no more. We have no more a parent on earth; 
 and soon we ourselves shall be numbered with the congrega- 
 tion of the dead. And what then if we are deceived ! And 
 
ANDOVER AND BOSTON. 133 
 
 is it not possible that we n^ay be? -'The heart is deceitful 
 above all things and desperately wicked : who can know it ?" 
 There are a thousand ways to get wrong, and one only to get 
 right. The two most conspicuous fruits and evidences of re- 
 ligion, are a placid, affectionate spirit, which sweetens and rules 
 our native tenjpers, and that etherial spirit which overcomes 
 the world, 1 Cor. xiii. James i. 27. 1 John ii, 15, Would 
 it not be well, my dear brother, for us both to try ourselves 
 closely by these two tests, as exhibited in the texts referred to? 
 Religion does not consist in a form, and a profession, nor in 
 going to church on the sabbath, and uttering some of our 
 opinions, and having certain frames ; but in possessing and 
 acting out the true spirit of the gospel, which is love, — in ris- 
 ing from under the supreme dominion of selfishness to the do- 
 minion of supreme love to God and his dear Son, Luke xiv, 
 26, Mat. vi. 24. Men are judged by their general characters. 
 1 John iii. 1.5. Unless then we are habitually governed by 
 supreme love to God, we are nothing. But such a regent 
 within us will habitually keep down those angry and idola- 
 trous passions which spring from selfishness. If these prevail, 
 we are the slaves of selfishness still. Without, therefore, a 
 dominant spirit of love, which can keep our tempers habitual- 
 ly calm, and produce habitually a conscious deadness to the 
 world, we are not christians. If my own hope will not bear 
 this test, it must be given up. 
 
 Thus we cannot hope to live, without a frequent apphca- 
 tion of the means of grace. And if the world is put under 
 our feet, it will certainly no longer keep us from those means 
 which are necessary for the nourishment of our souls, any 
 more than from those meals which are necessary for the nou- 
 rishment of the body. Every christian ought to take time 
 from the world to attend at least one meeting a week, besides 
 on the sabbath. I wisli, my dear brother, that you would 
 adopt this rule, and inflexibly abide by it, let the w^orld go 
 where it will. I know what you can say on the subject, but 
 I still believe that you ought to do it, and that it is your hap- 
 piness as well as duty. ****** 
 Affectionately your brother, E. D. G. 
 
134 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 Dr. Griffin continued at Park-street till the 
 spring of 1815, when, in consequence of the con- 
 gregation having become embarrassed by means of 
 the war, and withal somewhat divided among them- 
 selves, he accepted an invitation to return to New- 
 ark as pastor of the Second Presbyterian church 
 then lately rendered vacant by the dismission of 
 Mr. Gumming. He seems to have hesitated for 
 some time as to the propriety of accepting this in- 
 vitation, particularly from an apprehension that his 
 return to Newark might be the occasion of some 
 embarrassment to his successor in his former charge. 
 The two following letters, which he addressed to 
 Dr. Richards in relation to this subject, evince a 
 delicate regard to the circumstances in which he 
 was called to act. 
 
 Boston, Feb. 2\st, 1815. 
 My Dear Brother, 
 
 I was delighted to hear to-day that you had been invited 
 to preside at the meeting last Thursday. This augurs well 
 for the future tranquillity of Newark. Immediately after re- 
 ceiving an application, about twelve weeks ago, I inquired 
 whether it would give offence for me to exchange with you, 
 and to visit my old friends in your congregation; and was an- 
 swered, that it would be acceptable for me to visit my old 
 friends, and to exchange with you once in four or five sab- 
 baths. To return to Newark on any other terms than to be 
 in habits of unreserved intimacy and love with one of my 
 earliest and truest friends, and with his beloved church, I 
 could not consent. And if I thought my return would con- 
 tribute any influence to restore harmony, and to obliterate all 
 remembrance of the past, it would certainly be a powerful mo- 
 tive. On the other hand, if there is, as was hinted to me by 
 some last spring, an incurable separation between the two con- 
 
ANDOVER AND BOSTON. 135 
 
 gregations, and my friends down town would look upon me 
 as one who had come to take part against them, I should find 
 myself in a condition truly deplorable. On the various points 
 connected with this subject, I want light, and, my dear bro- 
 ther, I want light froin you. 
 
 When I resigned my charge into your hands, little did I ex- 
 pect to return and take part with you in your ministry. Nor 
 do I yet know that this is the will of heaven. Newark has 
 not ceased to be the dearest place to me on earth ; but I am 
 not my own. From some motions of divine providence I 
 have been led to suppose that that might become my duty. 
 And if it is my duty, I can freely say it will be no act of self- 
 denial. The particular circumstances which have led to this 
 way of thinking, you in part know, and will know more fully 
 when I have the pleasure to see you. In the mean time I will 
 thank you to open your whole heart to me, and to pour all the 
 light you can upon the present state and future prospects of 
 Newark, relative to the points referred to above. Pray let me 
 hear from you soon. I expect to take a journey early in March ; 
 if you write soon I shall receive your letter before I set out. 
 
 Mrs. G. joins me in most affectionate salutations to Mrs. 
 Richards, and yourself, and to the whole family. 
 Your friend and brother, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 Rev. J. Richards. 
 
 Boston^ April I5th, 1815. 
 My Dear Brother, 
 
 I received your fraternal letter of the 28th of February, on 
 my return from Connecticut the 3rd of April, and thank you 
 for your frank and candid remarks. I had written, before my 
 journey, to Mr. Boudinot, and if I am not mistaken, request- 
 ed him to show the letter to you. That letter will have con- 
 vinced you that the providence of God, and no unreasonable 
 fickleness, or despondency in me, has suggested the purpose of 
 my return. I have felt unhappy in one view of my return. 
 If from the attachment of some of my old friends, it should 
 operate to render your condition any less pleasant, it would 
 
136 RESIDENCE AT ANDOVER AND BOSTON. 
 
 distress me, not only from my long continued friendship for 
 you, but especially because I was instrumental in your remo- 
 val to Newark. It will be, I hope, my aim, however, to ren- 
 der your situation no less pleasant than it was when you first 
 came, and have no doubt of reciprocal friendship from you. 
 And with such a union as has always subsisted between us, 
 added to a sufficient degree of prudence, I hope we shall pre- 
 vail to heal all the divisions which now exist. I believe we 
 shall. There are really no rival interests. There are people 
 and property enough for two congregations, and I hope in time 
 to see a third. This was my hope before I concluded to leave 
 the town. The idea of ministering to the whole town was op- 
 pressive and overwhelming. 
 
 * * * Since my return from my journey to Connecticut, 
 I have applied to the church and congregation for a dismis- 
 sion. Both bodies have given their consent, and voted to con- 
 tinue my salary till the last of May, though the council for my 
 dismission should be sooner convened. After this consent I 
 consider myself at liberty to announce my acceptance of the 
 call. I will therefore thank you to inform the presbytery in 
 my name, at their April meeting, that I consider it my dut}?" 
 to accept the call, and do hereby accept it ; and pray them to 
 appoint a time for my installation, as soon as they, and the 
 congregation choose, after the first sabbath in June. The first 
 sabbath in June I hope to be in Newark. Mrs. G. joins in af- 
 fectionate regards to Mrs. R. and yourself and family. 
 I am, my dear brother, your sincere friend, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 Rev. J. Richards. 
 
 Agreeably to the intimation contained in the pre- 
 ceding letter, Doctor Griffin's resignation of his 
 pastoral charge received the sanction of a mutual 
 council, April 27, 1815 ; though he continued to 
 officiate as pastor till the last sabbath in May. He 
 arrived in Newark with his family the first week in 
 June. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 HIS SECOND RESIDENCE AT NEWARK. 
 
 Doctor Griffin was installed pastor of the se- 
 cond Presbyterian church in Newark, June 20, 
 1815. 
 
 Toward the close of the year 1816, a general at- 
 tention to religion commenced in both congrega- 
 tions in Newark, and extended to several of the 
 neighboring towns. During this revival Dr. G. Avas 
 abundant in his labors, and was privileged in due 
 time to gather in a precious harvest. 
 
 Under date of March 27, 1817, he WTites in his 
 diary as follows : 
 
 A day of private fasting and prayer agreed upon by both 
 churches in the town, to implore the continued induencesof the 
 Divine Spirit. Having of late years entered more largely into 
 the public business of the church, I have spent too little time 
 in my closet, and in consequence find that it is not so easy to- 
 day to fix my thoughts in these private exercises as it formerly 
 was. It is my desire from this time forth to return to the more 
 full practice of private devotion, and to a renewal of my jour- 
 nal. 
 
 I have tried the world ; I have been too much devoted to 
 honor ; but I found it all vain. Never was T so restless and 
 unhappy as when most elevated in view of the world. I was 
 
 Vol. I. 18 
 
138 SECOND RESIDENCE 
 
 tired of such public life, and longed to retire. I have retired, 
 and during the year and nine months which I have spent 
 here, have been the most tranquil that I ever was in any si- 
 tuation. Convinced by experience of the vanity and even tor- 
 ture of worldly distinction, I seem to have given up all desire 
 for it. I am sure I would not exchange my present seclusion 
 for any more public sphere that could be offered me. My tri- 
 als, I trust, have not been in vain. For more than six years 
 past, (the former part of which was the most trying period of 
 my life,) I think I have been enabled to obtain an ascendancy 
 over some of my constitutional sins. If I do not deceive my- 
 self, I have of late years become more conscientious in regu- 
 lating my feelings towards my neighbors, in avoiding resent- 
 ments when 1 am injured, and in studying the things which 
 make for peace. I think I am more vigilant against the colli- 
 sions of selfishness ; less bigoted in favor of a party, and can 
 more truly rejoice in the advancement of religion in other de- 
 nominations around me. I have far less distressing conflicts 
 than I had in former years. At the same time I have far less 
 exalted ideas of my own sanctification. Some things are cer- 
 tainly improved within me, and yet I have a more steady 
 sense of my general poverty and short coming. 
 
 Afternoon. I found a greater sweetness in secret prayer than 
 I had felt for years, a tenderness and enlargement in praying 
 for this people here, our sister congregation and its minister, 
 my late church in Park-street, my friends and my enemies 
 generally in Massachusetts. 1 found a new state of mind, 
 and discovered that some displeasure at the past treatment I 
 had received, though it had not awakened resentment, had 
 hardened my heart against old acquaintance and caused me 
 to find little pleasure in thinking of them. But now I felt the 
 cloud all removed, and wished to visit them, and longed for 
 their prosperity, as though they had been my flesh and blood ; 
 and in regard to those who were near, my heart melted over 
 them, and it was my earnest prayer that this day, when the 
 christians of both congregations are in their respective closets, 
 might break up forever whatever selfish jealousies and unkind 
 
AT NEWARK. 139 
 
 feelings may exist between the two Bister ciiuiches. 1 feared 
 that the rough treatment I had met with from the world, had 
 soured my mind towards mankind, and that my love of re- 
 tirement arose partly from this cause. I clearly perceived and 
 felt that love would do away all feelings like never wishing to 
 have any more connexion with a particular place. Never, 
 never let me feel this again towards any place or any in- 
 dividual. How will love unite us to all and every one, as to 
 our dearest child. Scarcely ever had I a cloud taken off from 
 the whole world so suddenly and so sensibly. I felt a tender 
 wish to write to acquaintances in difibrent places, with whom 
 I had for a considerable time wished to have no further inter- 
 course. I found that love would cure at once all past troubles, 
 and sweep them from the world as though they had never 
 been; and that if I could continue to feel so, I should at once 
 be restored to the bright skies of former years, before the storms 
 arose. I perceived that the most effectual way to get the bet- 
 ter over every injury was to forgive. I learned to prize more 
 than ever these days of private devotion, for I found that this 
 season had removed wrong impressions which had rested on 
 my mind for two or three years, which, till I felt the change, 
 I had not perceived were wrong. Let me not fail to 
 
 KEEP THESE DAYS OF PRIVATE DEVOTION. 
 
 I was enabled heartily to forgive and pray for all men, even 
 those who had wronged me most, and then I felt that the 
 middle wall of partition which had been long between Christ 
 and me, was taken away. I had forgiven all, and then he 
 had, as it would seem, forgiven me. While I held them off, 
 unwilling to have intercourse, he held me off, unwilling to 
 have intercourse. I had not hated them as an enemy, and he 
 had not hated me as an enemy. Just the measure which I 
 meted to others, he meted to me. I never felt before the full 
 amount, in this respect, of that petition, "Forgive us our 
 debts as we forgive our debtors."' In the latter part of the af- 
 ternoon my mind was unusually fixed and drawn out in 
 praytr; and all my prayers were directed to Christ. The 
 hymn, " Jesus, lover of my soul," was more precious to me 
 
140 SECOND RESIDENCE 
 
 tlian ever it was, when I was not pressed down under the bur- 
 den of guilt. Bless the Lord, O my soul, for his restoring 
 mercy, — for removing that partition wall which I have felt for 
 more than six years. O may I walk humbly and live near to 
 him, and be wholly devoted to him the rest of my Ufe. 
 
 During this second period of Doctor Griffin's 
 residence at Newark, besides attending with exem- 
 plary fidelity to all the duties more immediately 
 connected with his pastoral charge, he devoted him- 
 self with great zeal to the establishment and sup- 
 port of several of the leading benevolent institutions 
 of the day. He was one of the original founders 
 of the American Bible Society ; and it is said that 
 when their address to the public, which had been 
 prepared by Doctor Mason, was first read in his 
 hearing, he turned to a gentleman sitting next to 
 him, and said with great emphasis, " That, in my 
 opinion is the finest specimen of English composi- 
 tion that has been produced since the days of John- 
 son." He was also particularly active in the esta- 
 blishment of the United Foreign Missionary Socie- 
 ty, and in promoting the interests of the school es- 
 tablished by the Synod of New- York and New- 
 Jersey for the education of Africans. To this lat- 
 ter institution perhaps he devoted himself with more 
 zeal than to any other ; and his celebrated " Plea 
 for Africa," distinguished alike for learning and elo- 
 quence, shows that this was a theme to wake up 
 his finest powers and his strongest sensibilities. 
 
 It was also during this period of his ministry, 
 (1817) that he published his work on the extent of 
 the atonement. As this is almost throughout a 
 work of pure metaphysics, it were not to be ex- 
 
AT NEWARK. 141 
 
 pected that it should have gained so extensive a cir- 
 culation as the more practical and popular of his 
 productions ; but it was evidently the result of great 
 intellectual labor, and could never have been pro- 
 duced but by a mind trained to the highest efforts 
 of abstraction. 
 
 In the spring of 1821, Dr. Griffin received an 
 invitation to the presidency of the college at Dan- 
 ville, Kentucky ; and as his health at the time was 
 somewhat enfeebled, he took a journey into that 
 state, but ultimately declined the offer. On his re- 
 turn he visited Cincinnati in Ohio, and subsequent- 
 ly received an invitation to the same place in the 
 college in that city, but this also he felt himself con- 
 strained to decline. About the same time he re- 
 ceived a similar appointment at Williams College ; 
 and owing chiefly to some unpropitious circumstan- 
 ces which had prevented the growth of his congre- 
 gation and their ability to continue to him a com- 
 petent support, he determined to accept this ap- 
 pointment. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HIS RESIDENCE AT WILLIAMSTOWN. 
 
 Having accepted of the Presidency of Williams 
 College, Doctor Griffin left Newark with his fa- 
 mily for Williamstown about the 25th October, 
 1821. Of the interesting events which occurred 
 in connection with the journey and subsequent to 
 it, he committed to writing the following minute 
 account in 1830. 
 
 Before we left Newark, my eldest daughter, Louisa, was un- 
 well. In her passage up the river she became worse. We 
 reached Troy on Friday morning, October 26th, 182f, where 
 I left her with her mother at a boarding-house, and the same 
 night reached Williamstown with my other daughter, Ellen. 
 On Monday, October 29th, having obtained teams to bring out 
 our furniture, I returned to Troy, and found an apprehension 
 in the attending physicians that Louisa was exposed to the 
 typhus fever. On my return to Williamstown on Wednes- 
 day, October 31st, I found Ellen quite sick. It proved that 
 she had taken the measles ; and before the}'' could appear, a 
 billious fever had taken possession of the system and kept the 
 other down. And as the first yielded to medicine, the second, 
 a hidden enemy that no one could understand, began to work. 
 She was in a state of great fluctuation, but mostly of danger, 
 till near the middle of December. On Monday, the 10th of 
 December, my apprehensions rose the highest, but they were 
 
RESIDENCE AT WILLIAMSTOWN. 143 
 
 relieved before I went after my family the next morning. And 
 so it was from the first to the last ; she would be better, and I 
 could inform her mother so ; and no sooner had my letter gone 
 than she would be taken worse. Her mother was mercifully 
 saved from a knowledge of her danger till she reached Wil- 
 liamstown, and I sustained the burden alone. But to return. 
 On sabbath morning, November 4th, while I sat by Ellen's 
 bed, more anxious for her than for Louisa, I received a letter 
 from Mrs. Griffin, begging me to come down immediately ere 
 my child died, and to bring Ellen with me, and leave her at 
 Dr. Coe's. As I arose from my chair. I said, unconsciously, 
 " The liord reigneth;" but recollecting myself, and fearing to 
 alarm Ellen, I for the first and last time deceived my child. 
 I assumed a smile, and kissed her, and left the room. I de- 
 termined to stay and ask the prayers of the church, and go 
 the next day. The Rev. Mr. Gridley said he could not bear 
 to have me go alone and offered to accompany me. At Wads- 
 worth's, where we dined, while I was pacing alone before the 
 door, reviewing all my feelings about my poor child before 
 birth and at the time of her birth, and my manner of pray- 
 ing for her, and bringing her up, I said, " And after all is she 
 to die in this state of insensibility? Is this our covenant God?" 
 Something seemed to say, " No," in a manner which soothed 
 my anguish. About eight miles this side of Troy, a messen- 
 ger met us, to hasten us to see her die. I remember saying 
 to Mr. Gridley at that moment, " / can bear all this and a 
 great deal more ; but O that poor mother, and that immortal 
 soul !" I spent the eight miles in praying for those two objects, 
 and in language sometimes audible to my sympathizing friend. 
 Mrs. Griffin had no knowledge that Ellen was sick, and I 
 knew, was confidently expecting her. I had to bear those 
 tidings to the afflicted mother. But God had mercifully or- 
 dered it so that I could, with entire sincerity, say, " I hope she 
 is better." Mrs. G. met me on the stairs, — " Where is Ellen?" 
 anxiously. "Why, my dear, she did not come" — carelessly. 
 " Is she sick?" — alarmed. " Why, my dear, she hasn't been 
 very well." '• Is she dangerous ?" — greatly agitated. " We 
 
144 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 have been somewhat concerned about her, but we hope she is 
 better." Mrs. G. disappeared. I went into the room where 
 my poor child lay. I found her insensible — deaf, dumb, and 
 perhaps blind. By shaking her violently I could make her 
 open her eyes ; but they would fall together as soon. I wish- 
 ed to pray with her without delay ; and when I sought for 
 Mrs. G. I found her in a dark room, leaning on Mrs. E. cry- 
 ing, ready to break her heart, and saying, " God is going to 
 take away both of my children." That night I did not shed 
 a tear, though apt to weep. I got the friends assembled in 
 the room, and then stretched out my hands over the bed and 
 commended to God our dying child. When I opened my 
 eyes, I found Mrs. G. bent down under her sorrows. I there- 
 fore lifted my voice aloud and said, " What does it signify for 
 God to reign if he may not govern the world ? What does it 
 signify for us to proclaim our joy that he governs, if we will 
 not allow him to take from us our Josephs and our Benjamins 
 as he pleases?" The words, I saw, went through the poor 
 mother's heart, and from that moment she hfted up her head. 
 She went to bed that night (she told me afterwards) under a 
 great weight, but she awoke in the night, and all her burden 
 was gone. 
 
 A change had taken place in the sick child that morning, 
 between break of day and sunrise, which indicated that a de- 
 cisive change would probably take place the next morning at 
 the same hour, and many chances to one it would be for 
 death. But I found I could not set up the interest of my child 
 against the will of God. I felt a strange composure, for which 
 I reproached myself. I said to a friend repeatedly that I ap- 
 peared to myself to be stupid. I said to myself, " Do you love 
 your child as you love yourself? Would you feel so little con- 
 cern were there fifty chances to one that you would be beyond 
 the reach of hope to-morrow ?" And yet I could not feel that 
 misery and tumult which the awful event, separated from the 
 will of God, seemed calculated to produce. In the course of 
 the evening Dr. B. told me that if she survived the next day 
 she would be Uable to be taken off every half hour for three 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. l45 
 
 weeks. " Well then," said I to myself, " it is in vain to hope. 
 I might as well hope if she had to run the gauntlet between a 
 hundred soldiers, with all their guns pointed at her heart." 
 At tiiat moment it was powerfully impressed on my mind, 
 '• If it is the will of the Lord Jesus that she shall die, she will 
 die ; and if it is his will that she shall live, she will live, though 
 she were to run the gauntlet through the world." That 
 thought composed me, and I went to bed and slept quietly till 
 morning. But I was up with the day. And instead of the 
 chill of death coming upon her, she lifted up her e3^es and 
 knew me. Though I could not weep that night, the next 
 day I could weep profusely, under a sense of the goodness of 
 God. 
 
 On the 14th of November I was inaugurated to the office 
 of president of Williams College. 
 
 On Tuesday, Dec. llth, I went after my family, and 
 brought them home on Thursday, the 13th, seven weeks 
 M'anting a day or two from the time we landed at Troy. 
 The same day, Ellen was brought home ; and a joyful meet- 
 ing it was. I had longed that the famih^, if ever permitted 
 to meet again, might live only to Him who had preserved 
 them. But alas how have we forgotten his mercies ! I am 
 utterly confounded when I think of this. 
 
 This great mercy as relates to Louisa, and especially the 
 scene at Wadsworth's, never appeared to me so affecting as 
 since her hopeful conversion. 
 
 TO HIS DAUGHTER FRANCES LOUISA, WHILE AT , SCHOOL 
 AT SANDWICH. 
 
 WilUamstown, March I7th, 1823. 
 
 * * * As the church here have set apart to-morrow as a 
 day of fasting and prayer for the effusions of the Spirit, and I 
 expect to be with iheni, I shall have no time to write after this 
 evening. The revival in college is at an awful stand. No 
 instance of hopeful conversion for near a fortnight. In that 
 time there has been much labor, and not a few impressions 
 made of a weaker sort, which seem to come and go, in a way 
 
 Vol. I. 19 
 
146 REaiDENCE AT 
 
 to hold us between hope and fear, and I should be tempted to 
 be discouraged were it not for the increasing earnestness, as I 
 hope, of christians, both in the college and in the town. 
 Amidst all my other anxieties, my poor children that have no 
 God, lie daily upon my heart : — njy poor children who have 
 souls as valuable as they appeared to me wdien I was going to 
 Troy in November, 1821, and when I bent over my insensi- 
 ble and apparently dying child, that evening. Oh Louisa, 
 you have scenes yet to enter upon which no language can de- 
 scribe, and no mortal heart can conceive. My dear child, pre- 
 pare, I beseech you, to meet your God. Oh let not 3'our pa- 
 rents find you missing when they search for you among the 
 redeemed host at the last day. 
 
 * * * I am sorry that you said, or ever heard any thing 
 
 about ; because I am unwiUing that a grudge should he 
 
 in your heart, or in mine, against a human being. I hope 
 you will neither hear nor communicate any thing more against 
 a single person on earth. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 TO HIS DAUGHTER ELLEN MARIA. 
 
 Williams College, June 12fh, 1824. 
 
 * * * I had, my dear child, a distressing dream about 
 you last night. I dreamed that I was the presiding magistrate 
 in a court which had condemned you to die for murder, — and 
 to be executed the next day. You besought for your life ; but 
 I told you that I could not help you, and entreated you to pre- 
 pare to die. And when you appeared disposed to consume the 
 few precious moments in prayer to me, I told you that you 
 must not say another word about it. You obeyed, and was 
 silent, and I awoke. And when I awoke, the thought of my 
 poor suppliant child, condemned to death, and pleading with 
 me for her life ; and the thought that I might one day see you 
 pleading for an eternal life, when I could not afford you relief; 
 affected me so luuch that 1 could not help praying for you a 
 considerable time, till I fell asleep again. Oh my dear child, 
 
tVILLIAMSTOWN. 147 
 
 remember that no modification of the social aflections, and of 
 the outward deportment, will answer without a radical change 
 of heart ; that no habits of respect for religion will avail with- 
 out a deep conviction of sin and ruin ; that without thus feel- 
 ing yourself sick unto death, yon never will apply to the great 
 physician, but will rather become the more self-righteous for 
 your outward regularity ; and that your prayers will not be 
 heard unless they proceed from the very heart, but may, by 
 sinking into a cold unmeaning form, become mockery, and 
 " ail abomination to the Lord." I beseech you, my darling 
 child, to read over this paragraph morning and evening before 
 you offer your prayers, for the rest of the winter, when some- 
 thing special does not prevent. 
 
 I have only time to add that, with daly prayers for your 
 sanctification, I am, your affectionate father, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 TO THE REV. M. TUCKER, OF NORTHAMPTON. 
 
 Williams College, July Wth, 1825. 
 Rev. and Dear Sir, 
 
 Your favor of June 2Sth, with the accompanying sermon, 
 was duly received ; and I sincerely thank you for both. I 
 read the sermon immediately and with much interest. My 
 time is so occupied at present in various ways that I shall not 
 be able to pay that attention to the subjects of your letter 
 which I could desire. You gratify me by your confidence, 
 but you have laid out a liard piece of work for me ; I mean 
 difficult of accomplishment. 
 
 It does appear to me that the most important object of all, 
 and which ought for the present to engross your whole atten- 
 tion, is to bring that immense congregation, by your preach- 
 ing, prayers, and pastoral visits under the influence — the dis- 
 solving and transforming influence — of powerful and repeated 
 revivals of religion. As to scholarship, if it has not been at- 
 tained before one has reached the age of thirty, and has en- 
 tered on such a prodigious field of labor, it cannot be attained 
 to any very high degree in connexion with such a conscience 
 
148 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 as yours. Your Hebrew may be easily renewed without 
 points, by the help of Parkhurst's Hebrew Lexicon ; and with- 
 out points will answer all the purposes of explaining the ori- 
 ginal text. In your case, I certainly would go no further 
 than this in Hebrew. But 1 doubt much whether I would 
 enter at present on any new plan of studies beyond those 
 which are strictly theological. If you can prevail to imbue 
 that great people with divine truth, and make the truth tri- 
 umph where President Edwards fell, and bring them, by the 
 side of Brainerd's grave, to pray as Brainerd prayed ; you will 
 have performed a work great enough for an angel's powers : 
 you may then go to heaven, and the church will bless God 
 that you ever had existence. Considering the history, and the 
 magnitude, and the influence of your congregation, and the 
 state in which you received it, few men have ever had such 
 a work laid out for them ; — it is enough to exhaust the powers 
 of one mind. It is a charge ponderous enough " to make the 
 shoulders of an angel tremble." 
 
 I would recommend it to you, my brother, to bathe your 
 soul in Baxter's "Saint's Rest," and to be much in prayer, 
 and make yourself deeply acquainted \vith the Scriptures. 
 You are kind enough to ask after my course. I believe ihat 
 an early commencement and pursuit of a systematic study of 
 the Bible, in connexion with a long course of revivals of reli- 
 gion in which I was permitted to be engaged, and an habitual 
 aim, in my ordinary sermons, to reach the conscience, and the 
 heart at every stroke, and the habit of striking out, as I cor- 
 rect my sermons for a new exhibition of them, every clause 
 and word which is not subservient to this end ; may be num- 
 bered among the most efficacious means of forming my pre- 
 sent manner of preaching, such as it is. Perhaps the most 
 powerful circumstance, not yet mentioned, was entering upon 
 the large congregation of Newark, calling for constant and 
 impassioned preaching, and for continual visiting. I made a 
 bad improvement under these advantages ; but I am far from 
 thinking with you, my Deai- Sir, that a man cannot be a good 
 preacher and pastor with a great congregation. A great con- 
 
WILLIAMSTOAVN. 149 
 
 gregation, as rousing to great exertions, is the best field for the 
 formation of such a character. You can never satisfy any 
 people by visiting. The best way to approach it, is perhaps 
 to show the people, by a systematic course, that you visit all 
 you can. Besides your social visits and visits to the sick, I 
 would set apart one day in a week to strictly parochial visits, 
 to be short, and right to the point, and to be closed with prayer. 
 Make the appointment before hand, and let all know the course. 
 As to the manner of preaching, the object of every stroke 
 ought to be to do good rather than to gain, popularity. That 
 will make us the most divinely eloquent. The little pretti- 
 nesses of thought and expression, which the love of popularity 
 can produce, are nothing to the great and overwhelming 
 thoughts which flow from a mind solemnly impressed with 
 divine things, and earnestly desirous to impress them upon 
 others. Here we may aim high. I doubt the lawfulness of 
 any other high aim in a minister of Christ. Dr. Witherspoon 
 used to advise iiis pupils to w^ite out one good sermon a week, 
 and let the rest take care of themselves. You cannot, in your 
 situation, write but one. I would recommend it to you to ex- 
 temporize in the week, to preach from a skeleton in the morn- 
 ing of the Sabbath, and from notes in the afternoon. From 
 your account of your fondness for belles-lettres and poetry, and 
 aversion to metaphysics, I should apprehend that the side on 
 which you are to guard, is a tendency to sprightliness, Avithout 
 sufficient weight and penetrating force. You have a fine im- 
 agination, and a fine taste to regulate it. Use both of them, 
 as nature dictates, without effort ; but let all your effort be to 
 fill your pages with the weight and solemnity of divine truth. 
 Under each head labor to get out that precise view of truth 
 which you had in your most solemn hour on your knees. I 
 advise you to read much the sermons of President Edwards. 
 My paper is out. Mrs. G. and I will stay at your house with 
 pleasure, at the approaching meeting of the American Board 
 of Commissioners for Foreign Missions. Won't you come 
 and bring Mrs. T. to our commencement? 
 Veiy affectionately yours, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
150 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 Dr. G. proceeds in his narrative thus : 
 
 When I first came here there were 48 students connected 
 with the college. The number increased before the Amherst 
 charter was obtained, (in February or March, 1825,) to 120. 
 That event, by the following commencement struck us down 
 to 80. About 30 in the course of the spring and summer, 
 took dismissions, under the impression that the college w^ould 
 be broken up. Nineteen graduated that commencement, 
 and a class came in of seven, and little prospect appeared of 
 much increase. At that crisis I formed the pui'pose of raising 
 a fund of ,4^25,000 for the purpose of building a chapel and 
 endowing a new Professorship. While at Northampton at- 
 tending the meeting of the American Board of Commission- 
 ers for Foreign Missions, I determined to open the subscription 
 myself with $1,000, provided certain other gentlemen in Wil- 
 liamstown would do the same, or in proportion. From that 
 time I felt better about the college. On my return from a 
 northern tour through Manchester, (Vt.) I heard of a revival 
 there. This excited unusual desires in my mind for a revival 
 in college, which desire never ceased from that time. 
 
 When college came together several returned under deep 
 impressions ; and it was soon evident that God was among us. 
 My eldest daughter at that time was married and lived in the 
 neighborhood ; and my youngest daughter was at school at 
 Hartford, (Conn.) about 90 miles off. As Louisa had been 
 awakened in a revival at Newark in 1817, I came to the con- 
 clusion, as soon as I was convinced that the Spirit of God was 
 among us, that she would, in all probability be brought in 
 then or be lost. During the months of October and Novem- 
 ber, my agony w^as great and increasing for her, and her hus- 
 band, and for the college. The seriousness in college conti- 
 nued to increase; but it was not, I think, till about the first of 
 December, that the spirit came down like a mighty rushing 
 wind. 
 
 My wrestUngs for the college and the town were great dur- 
 ing all this time ; but Louisa's last chance appeared to have 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 151 
 
 come. She and her husband were very interesting objects to 
 me, and my absent child also. That passage in Luke, xi. 
 5-13, opened upon me with a most interesting reality, particu- 
 larly the last verse, " How much more shall your Heavenly 
 Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him." I believ- 
 ed the truth of that promise as fully as I believed my own ex- 
 istence, and applied it to supplications for the Spirit on others 
 as well as on myself. It appeared indeed a wonder that God 
 should regard the prayers of such polluted worms, until I dis- 
 covered, in the light of that text, which for the first time open- 
 ed upon me, (Romans, viii. 26, 27,) that it was the Holy Ghost 
 that prayed. I could not help exclaiming, " No wonder that 
 God hears prayer when it is the Holy Ghost that prays. What 
 an awful place is the christian's closet ! The whole Trinity is 
 about it every time he kneels. There is the Spirit praying to 
 the Father through the Son.-' My sermon on the Prayer of 
 Faith, which I have just sent on to the National Preacher, 
 and a copy of which I leave in manuscript to my children, 
 was copied, with great exactness, from my exercises at that 
 time, mingled in with my exercises in other revivals. Except 
 the single clause, "because men keep not God's law," under 
 the first head, (which I drew from the experience of David,) 
 all the eight particulars were drawn from my own experience, 
 with as much exactness as I could possibly attain. My desire 
 on this occasion was heart-breaking. I searched dihgently to 
 see if I was setting up the interest of my children against 
 God's interest, or my will against his will. I could not find 
 that I was. I felt my absolute dependance ; and yet could 
 never stop in the use of means. I felt greatly abased under 
 a sense of sin. O how did I feel often when upon my knees 
 1 was forced to say with tears, " Although my house be not 
 so with God." The case of Jacob at Penuel and that of the 
 Syrophenician woman always stood before me. And so con- 
 fident was I that the promise was everlasting truth, that 1 saw 
 I might indeed take hold of it and draw the blessing down, — 
 • that I might lawfully keep hold of it until the blessing came. 
 I seized it with both my hands, and said, '' Here I plant my- 
 
153 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 self down, and on this spot I will receive the blessing or die. 
 I hold thee to thy word and will not let thee go." Once an 
 objection started up, " Is not this holding of God to his word 
 a taking from him the right of sovereignty?" I was alarmed 
 at this, as though, in pursuit of every thing dear, a wall from 
 heaven had dropped upon my path. I threw my eyes farther, 
 I thought, than I ever did before, into the regions of truth, 
 and soon I saw the solution : '•' If God had not given me this 
 spirit to hold him fast, I should have been a clod. His sove- 
 reignty was fully exercised in that gift." As when a dam has 
 suddenly stopped a rapid torrent, and after a time is suddenly 
 removed, and the waters impetuously sweep ; so did my re- 
 strained and eager spirit, when I saw the whole field open be. 
 fore me, and not a fence nor a bar in the way, sweep it with 
 my whole heart and soul and mind and strength. If that 
 was not prayer, and in some measure the prayer of Penuel, 
 that could not fail in some degree to receive the blessing, I be- 
 lieved that I had never prayed, and was yet in my sins. 
 
 After placing myself on my pillow and disposing of all 
 other matters, I used to betake myself to this struggle, first 
 for others, and then for my children. And if I ever prayed, 
 it was in those nocturnal agonies. And after thus staking my 
 own salvation, as it were, on the issue, I would go in the 
 morning, or in the course of the day, to see how my daugh- 
 ter was affected ; and she, knowing the kindness of my inten- 
 tion, would meet me, week after week, with a filial smile. I 
 could never have thought that such a filial smile would so 
 wither a parent's heart. My stated question was, " Do you 
 realizingly feel that it would be just for God to cast you off?" 
 And she would as uniformly answer " No." She knew all 
 about the doctrines ; her understanding was fully convinced ; 
 she was awakened, and attended all the meetings ; but she 
 went no further. 
 
 In the latter part of December, I sent for my daughter El- 
 len home, that I might lay her at the Saviour's feet. If I 
 failed in my object, I knew the world would say, " There, he ' 
 tried and could'nt." But I thought with myself, " She can 
 
WILLI AMSTO\^N. 153 
 
 but die." And so her brother in-law went for her 00 miles in 
 tiiat season of the year. When she came home I desired her 
 to do nothing but read and pray and attend the meetings. 
 She complied, and was sober, but not convicted, or even awa- 
 kened. 
 
 Thus things went on till Wednesday evening, Jan, ISth, 
 1826 ; in which time my anguish of spirit had well nigh laid 
 me upon a bed of sickness. That evening after meeting, I 
 vi.siled Louisa, and put to her the old question, " Do you feel 
 that it would be just for God to cast you off?" After a consi- 
 derable pause, and in a low voice, she answered, " Yes, Sir." 
 I started, as a man awoke in a new world, and said, " Do 
 you, my dear?" After another pause, and in a low voice, she 
 answered again, "Yes, Sir." That evening upon my pillow, 
 I began to say, " Was she not awakened at Newark ? Has 
 she not knowledge enough ? And is she not now at last con- 
 victed of her desert of hell ? Has not enough been done in a 
 preparatory way? Wilt thou not this night take away the 
 heart of stone and give a heart of flesh?" At that moment 
 something within me said, "No; let her be more deeply con- 
 victed of her sin and ruin, that slie may know what she owes to 
 our redeeming God and his dying Son ; — that she may see the 
 distinctive glories of that God and Saviour whom I maintained 
 against a world in arms before she was born." The prayer 
 passed from her to her husband, and then to her sister. Their 
 personal interests, which had pressed like a mountain so long 
 upon me, were swallowed up and lost, and the all-absorbing 
 desire was, " That eyes so dear to me, may see the glory of 
 our redeeming God and his dying Son, and that souls so dear 
 may show in their salvation the same glory to the universe," 
 I then saw, as I never saw before, what it is for God to be glo- 
 rified, and felt conscious that I desired that object more than 
 all others. It appeared the most glorious object; and my 
 whole soul went out in pantings after it. 
 
 The next morning, before I was up, Mrs. Griffin came back 
 into my room, and said, "I have been into Ellen's chamber, 
 and found her weeping. She says, Mamma, I woke up this 
 
 Vol. I. 20 
 
154 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 morning early, and began to think how good God had been 
 to me and how ungrateful I had been to him; and I can't 
 sleep any more." This was her fust conviction. That same 
 morning, as Louisa was coming down to spend the day with 
 us, (for the family spent every Thursday with us,) and when 
 she had reached the gate, " The thought," (as she afterwards 
 expressed it,) "dropped upon my mind, that God reigns; and 
 it was a glorious thought.'' She did not tell me of this till 
 Friday night. On Saturday morning, when I called to see 
 her, she was all dissolved, and related the views she had had 
 of her sin and of the mercy of God the last evening. On 
 Thursday Ellen attended Mr. Gridley's inquiry meeting, and 
 he told me afterwards, that in addressing her, he had tried 
 every string, and not one of them vibrated till he touched on 
 the goodness of God, and then she wept like a child. On 
 Friday or Saturday I said to her, " My daughter-, where do 
 you expect to spend your eternity ?" She answered, " Why, 
 papa, 1 have'nt thought of that." "What then have you 
 been thinking about?" "I have been thinking how good God 
 has been to me, and how unthankful I have been to him." 
 On Saturday morning, after conversing with Louisa, I took 
 Dr. Smith, my son-in-law, into a separate room, and pressed 
 him with all the power I could apply. He wept. The next 
 day, (Jan. 22d, 1826.) I preached a sermon with a view to 
 try Louisa's hope, from Psalnrr xcix. 9, " For the Lord our 
 God is holy." I noticed that Dr. Smith devoured every word. 
 The next day I learnt that he had been hoping since Satur- 
 day. I searched for him and foimd him, and after dinner he 
 came to me. We sat in my study, and Ellen sat by the win- 
 dow behind me. I cast my eye back upon her, and she look- 
 ed more like the image of misery than ever before. She felt 
 that she was left alone indeed. The Dr. retired, and Ellen 
 left the room. Not long after, Mrs. Griffin came in, and said, 
 " Ellen has been saying to me, I am afraid papa don't feel 
 about me just as he did about Louisa." " Tell the dear child," 
 said I, "to bring in my surtout, (as I was going out,) and I 
 will talk with her." She came in, in great distress. After 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 155 
 
 some conversation, I kneeled down with her, by my library." 
 1'he spot and the time I never shall forget. The Syropheni- 
 cian woman had been much before me. She was befoie me 
 then ; and so was the glorious Personage to whom she appHed. 
 And he appeared as near to me as he did to her, — as near as 
 though he had been bodily present. And it was as easy for me 
 to put my child into his arms, as though he had been visibly 
 in the room. And I did put her into his arms, with all my 
 heart and soul. And it seemed to me that it was impossible, 
 but that she would give herself to him before she arose. 
 When 1 arose I took her in my arnjs and said, " My dear, 
 have you given yourself to Christ?" "Oh, no," said she, and 
 was apparently overwhelmed. 1 left the room and went out 
 to visit a family, where I met my dear Louisa, who appeared 
 the happiest creature in the world. She was going that eve- 
 ing to the first prayer meeting she ever attended, as she 
 thought. Upon my return after tea, Mrs. Griffin met me and 
 said, " I never witnessed such a scene. Ellen has been weep- 
 ing upon my neck, and saying, Christ died for me, and I have 
 never done any thing for him, and I cannot live so any longer." 
 I asked her to send her in. She came in, v.'hen the following 
 dialogue took place between us. " My child, where do you 
 expect to spend your eternity?'" "Why, papa, I think it most 
 likely that I shall spend it in hell." " Well, my dear, that 
 question God will decide, without asking counsel of you or 
 me." " I know that, papa, and I don't want any body else 
 should decide it." " Why, my dear?" "Because he appears 
 so good and so just." " Do you think that you deserve hell ?" 
 " Oh, I know I do." " What is the greatest desire of your 
 heart?" " To love and serve God all my days." In that con- 
 dition she remained eight and forty hours, without a particle 
 of hope. At the end of that time, (to use her own expres- 
 sion.) her burden fell off, and the preciousness and loveliness 
 of Christ appeared to her view. In the mean time Louisa at- 
 tended her prayer meeting on Monday evening. While I was 
 at breakfast on Tuesday morning, Ellen received from her 
 sister the following note. 
 
156 residence at 
 
 My dearest Ellen, 
 
 I never felt so anxious to see you as I do this morning, 
 but the weather seems to forbid. I have always felt for your 
 body, now I would inquire about your immortal soul. When 
 I feel the fullness there is in the dear Redeemer, his ability 
 and wilUngness, yea, ardent desire to save just such sinners as 
 we are, I cannot but hope that you have seen him too, and 
 have been enabled without reserve to give yourself away to 
 him. If you have not, O do not stay away another moment. 
 Why should you? There is balm in Gilead, an almighty 
 Physician there. Do you feel j^ourself to be a polluted, self- 
 ruined sinner, totally undone? O let not your sins keep you 
 from him. This is the very reason why you should go to 
 him. What was his errand into this miserable world, but to 
 ''seek and to save that which was lost?" What is he now 
 walking our streets for but to dispense pardons to the guilty: 
 to " gather the lambs in his arms and carry them in his bo- 
 som?" O believe his promises. Think him sincere when he 
 invites " every one that thirsteth," all that are " weary and 
 heavy laden," " the ends of the earth," to look unto him and 
 be saved. Do not add to all your other sins, the crying sin of 
 unbelief Come, and he will fill your soul with that " peace 
 that passeth understanding." He will enable you to say, 
 "Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon 
 earth that I desire besides thee." He will enable you to say, 
 "O that all the blind could see him too." He will enable you 
 to point your dear companions to " the Lamb of God which 
 taketh aw^ay the sin of tlie world." I hope your brother is in 
 the ark. We had a long and most interesting conversation 
 last evening. He was called away at day-light, and has not 
 yet returned. Mr. and Mrs. Hanson are both rejoicing in their 
 Saviour. Give my love to E. Dewey. You may read this to 
 her. What I say to you I say to her,— to all, — to poor Susan ; 
 come to Christ. " None but Jesus can do helpless sinners 
 good." 
 
 We had a blessed meeting last evening. O it is good to 
 draw near to God through the Mediator. You must come up 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 157 
 
 " to the help of the Lord against the mighty." Do all you 
 can for him who bought you with his blood. There is nothing 
 else worth living for. 
 
 My love to our dear parents. Say to them, " Be not afraid, 
 only believe." I hope to see you before night. 
 
 Your anxious and affectionate sister, 
 
 F. L. SMITH. 
 
 Notwithstanding this note, Louisa shortly after came down 
 and spent the day ; and in the evening my three children and 
 myself attended a most interesting meeting: Louisa has been 
 heard to say, that was the happiest day of her life. The 
 next day, Wednesday, Jan. 26th, Ellen was relieved. All 
 within a week from that ever to be remembered Wednesday 
 evening, when I first learnt that Louisa was convicted, and 
 when I had that travail on my wakeful pillow. 
 
 The following letter from Doctor Griffin, con- 
 taining an account of the hopeful conversion of his 
 children, was addressed to Nathaniel Willis 
 Esq. of Boston, and shortly after was published in 
 the Boston Recorder. 
 
 Williams College, Feb. 2, 1826. 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Your letter gave me great pleasure. The prospect of an- 
 otlier revival of religion in Boston is animating in no small 
 degree. Your letter was read to the pious students who are 
 here in vacation, with a request that they would daily remem- 
 ber Boston in their prayers. At a public meeting they formal- 
 ly agreed to do it ; and at a fast held yesterday, Boston made 
 one of tlie subjects of their public petitions. I intend to en- 
 deavor to engage the pious people of the town in the same 
 course of wrestling for you. 
 
 O that the dear christians in Boston may receive a spirit of 
 special and effectual prayer, in which desires as strong as 
 death shall be united with absolute dependance and faith, and 
 all combined with the most vigorous exertions to arrest the at- 
 
158 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 tention of sinners. These two classes of exertions ought to 
 be duly proportioned to each other. If much prayer is em- 
 ployed with little exhortation, it is like standing at the bottom 
 of a hill and praying to be placed on the top. If much ex- 
 hortation is used with little prayer, it will issue in proud, un- 
 productive self-dependance. But then it must be the prayer 
 of faith. God has said, "I will yet for this be inquired of by 
 the house of Israel ;" and, " Ask, and it shall be given you." 
 We must take hold of the promise with a grasp that cannot 
 be broken; and with an importunity that cannot be denied. 
 Nor is this humble holding of God to his word in opposition 
 to the fullest acknowledgment of his sovereignty and our de- 
 pendance ; for we know all the time that unless he gives us 
 the spirit of prayer we cannot take hold of the promise. And 
 if we are tempted to think this urgency and repetition teaz- 
 ing, we have only to refer to the parable of the importunate 
 widow. It is a day in which, after the partial suspension of 
 the rains of heaven, they are beginning to descend in very 
 uncommon effusions. A late letter informed me that in the 
 small village of Rome, ninety obtained a hope in two weeks. 
 All through the western part of New- York, and through Ver- 
 mont and New- Jersey, God is doing great things. It is time 
 to expect great things, and to attempt great things. We are 
 commanded to open our mouths wide. Old Mr, Elmer, of 
 New- Jersey, in preaching from this text one day, stopped : the 
 tear came into his eye : For my part, says he, I never expect- 
 ed much, and God never gave me much. I know of no 
 place where they have a better right to expect much than in 
 Boston, You are kneeling hard by the sepulchres of those 
 blessed fathers who have made so large a deposite in heaven 
 of their prayers. And God knows the need of a standard 
 lifted up where the enemy comes in like a flood. O be not 
 discouraged. The blessed Jesus has much people in that city, 
 who never yet have known him. Our earnest prayers will 
 daily mingle with yours for that ancient city of our fathers' 
 solemnities. 
 
 As you were so kind as to speak so tenderly of my dear 
 
.9 
 WILLIAMSTOWN. 159 
 
 children, I know it will give you joy to hear that both of them 
 have hopefully laid their enmity and their honors at their Re- 
 deemer's feet. My son-in-law also is in a very interesting 
 state of mind, and I hope, not far from the kingdom of hea- 
 ven. Help me to magnify the Lord forever. I have given 
 my redeemed children away to Christ, with a supreme desire 
 that they may be altogether devoted to him all the days of 
 their lives. Whether they be rich or poor, — whether they live 
 long or die soon, — are minor considerations. 
 
 You have been a highly Itivored parent, and have probably 
 had more experience than I in these solemn and awful and 
 intere ting deaUngs of God. As you are so largely experi- 
 enced in these matters, perhaps I may drop upon the ear of 
 private friendship someaccount of what God has done for me. 
 And if it shall encourage you or any of my dear friends to 
 agonize more abundantly for their children, my end is an- 
 swered. 
 
 Little did I think what such a blessing was to cost me. 
 The struggle came near laying me on a bed of sickness. Ne- 
 ver before had I such a sense of the import of that figure in 
 Gal. iv. 19. I had often said that in offering their children in 
 baptism parents must believe for them, (as far as the nature 
 of things admits,) as they did for their own souls, and must 
 bring them to Christ as poor lost sinners, much in the same 
 way in which they brought themselves. But now I s«e that 
 if their children are to be born again in a covenant way, (it 
 may be done in a sovereign way without them,) they must 
 travail in birth for them. For two full months the struggle 
 lasted before I saw any decisive signs of an answer. My 
 younger daughter was at school at Hartford, and I sent for 
 her home that she might have the advantage of this blessed 
 season. Week after week, after the midnight struggle upon 
 my wakeful pillow, I would go to my children in ihe morning 
 and be dismayed to find them the same. I would then return 
 and examine my prayers. I could not see that I set up their 
 interest against that of God, or my will against his will. I 
 saw that I had no claim except on a gracious promise made to 
 
160 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 prayer. But that I seized and hung to with the grasp of death. 
 And yet nothing seemed to follow. At last it came to this : if 
 that was not prayer, — and in some measure the prayer of Pe- 
 nuel, (Gen. xxxii. 26) — I knew nothing about prayer, and must 
 abandon my hope. If all my children must perish, I must go 
 down with them. Such a hold had I fixed upon the promise, 
 and such was the impossibility of letting it go, that I found I 
 had staked every thing upon it, and upon its truth in refe- 
 rence to me, and it was an eternal heaven or an eternal hell 
 for more than one. And yet God delayed. Ah then was the 
 tug and struggle which shook the soul. After many nights I 
 found myself, on my pillow, longing that my children might 
 be brought to see their ruin, in order that they might see what 
 they owed to God and their precious Redeemer, — jnight see his 
 glory and bear witness for him and praise him all their days. 
 Before, I had brought them to God as a personal interest j 
 now, I wished the thing done for the Lord's sake. The next 
 morning Ellen could not sleep to think how good God was 
 and how ungrateful she had been ; and Louisa, (whose im- 
 pressions had been deeper than she had acknowledged or 
 known,) found herself rejoicing that God reigned. Four days 
 after as I was praying with Ellen, I felt such a nearness to 
 Christ, and was enabled to commit her to his arms so easily, 
 so fully, and so confidently, that I could not but hope she 
 would commit herself to him before she arose. I humbly trust 
 he received her then. In an hour or two she was giving 
 strong evidence of a new nature ; yet for two days she lay 
 crushed under a sense of her unworthiness, until, as she ex- 
 pressed it, " the preciousness and loveliness of the Saviour 
 opened to her view." During this awful suspense she receiv- 
 ed the enclosed note from Louisa, which I send to your daugh- 
 ters, my dear children whom I used to catechise. 
 
 O may my soul be thankful, and may my life and my 
 children be wholly devoted to the Lord. With my kind regards 
 to Mrs. Willis and your children, to Mr. and Mrs. Dwight, and 
 all my beloved friends in Boston, I am. Dear Sir, 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. IGl 
 
 The following is an extract from a letter written 
 about the same time, and in reference to the same 
 general subject, to the Rev. Frederick Marsh, 
 of Winchester, Conn. 
 
 My Dear Sir, 
 
 I received yours of the 15th inst. by due course of mail. I 
 am truly rejoiced to hear of this wonderful favor of God vouch- 
 safed to our dear Mr. Gillet and to the people of his charge ; 
 and it is my hearty desire and prayer to God that your con- 
 gregation, and all our beloved Litchfield county, may be 
 equally blessed. After several years of partial suspension, the 
 rains of heaven are at length beginning lo descend on our 
 land in an unusual degree. May the whole extent of the 
 United States be drenched in the iieavenly flood. 
 
 We have indeed much to acknowledge here. From the 
 printed notices you have probably seen what God has done for 
 our college. Of the thirty-one who were on the ground with- 
 out rehgion, (numbers were absent in their schools,) we hoped 
 for twenty-seven at the close of the term. Of the other four, 
 one had been in deep waters for a long time ; the other three 
 belong to this town, and are in the midst of the revival here. 
 Many prayers have been offered for the absent ; and as the 
 work has extended to the town, we greatly hope that these 
 upon their return will fall under an influence that will bring 
 them all in. Do engage your dear praying people to inter- 
 cede with heaven for an issue so devoutly to be wished. 
 
 The work has extended to the town with power and great 
 glory. I have not heard any estimate of the numbers that are 
 impressed, but the influence is very general. Among the 
 hopeful converts, I am permitted by infinite mercy to name 
 my own children. My two daughters give good evidence of 
 a saving change ; and my son-in-law is in a very interesting 
 state of mind, and, I hope, not far from the kingdom of hea- 
 ven. Help me, my dear sir, to bless and praise the Lord for- 
 ever. It is my supreme desire concerning them, that they 
 
 Vol. 1. 21 
 
163 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 may devote themselves wholly to the service of their Redeemei 
 all the days of their life. 
 
 Doctor Griffin continues his narrative thus : — 
 
 The next spring my two daughters were admitted to the 
 church on the same day. The Doctor has not made a public 
 profession yet. P. S. He joined the church afterwards at 
 Newark, N. J. 
 
 The revival saved the college. There were but two profes- 
 sors. One of them appeared to be sinking into the grave with 
 the consumption ; the other had made up his mind lo leave if 
 the f 25,000 could not be raised. I myself was invited to a 
 professorship in a Theological Seminary, and had engaged to 
 go, if the fund was not raised. The trustees were discouraged 
 by a conflict of eleven years, and would probably have given 
 up the college if all the officers had left them. All depended, 
 under God, on raising the $25,000. That would never have 
 been raised but for the revival. For besides that this event 
 predisposed the christian public to contribute, it operated on 
 me in two ways. In the first place, by that timely interposi- 
 tion, (in addition to the many tokens of favor manifested to the 
 college before, which are mentioned in my sermon at the de- 
 dication of the new chapel,) I was convinced that the institu- 
 tion was dear to God, and that it was his purpose to preserve 
 it. Had it not been for that confidence I should have turned 
 back a hundred times amidst the discouragements which sur- 
 rounded me. In the second place, that revival gave me a 
 sense of obligation which excited me to the mighty effort. 
 The influence which came down to save the college, had, as 
 I hoped, brought in my children ; and I felt that if ever a 
 man was bound to go till he fell down for an institution dear 
 to Christ, I was that man. 
 
 The following extract from Doctor Hopkins' ser- 
 mon occasioned by Doctor Griffin's death, will 
 show the depressed state of the college at the time 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 163 
 
 he took charge of it, and the important agency he 
 had in relieving it from its embarrassments, and 
 placing it on a more solid and permanent founda- 
 tion. 
 
 " We now come to that period in the history of Dr. Griffin, 
 when he became connected with this college. This was in 
 1821. At the commencement in that year, Dr, Moore presid- 
 ed for the last time. It had for some time been the opinion of 
 tlie majority of the trustees, that if there was to be but one 
 college, and it was supposed there could be but one, in the 
 western part of this state, Northampton would be a more favo- 
 rable location, and Dr. Moore had accepted the presidency 
 with the expectation that the college would be removed. A 
 majority of the trustees had voted that it was expedient to re- 
 move it, and had petitioned the legislature for permission to do 
 so. This petition had been met by a spirited opposition on 
 the part of the inhabitants of the town, and of the county ; 
 and upon their own responsibility, they raised a subscription 
 of $17,000, which was laid before a committee of the legisla- 
 ture, and wliich was to be paid to the college in case it should 
 not be removed. This subscription, raised against the wishes 
 of a majority of the trustees, but which they could not refuse 
 A\'ithout a fraud upon the legislature, some persons afterwards 
 refused to pay, and it was made the ground of much misre- 
 presentation respecting the college. In consequence, however, 
 of this subscription, and of the representations made from this 
 part of the state, the legislature refused to the trustees permis- 
 sion to remove the college. In the mean time, strong expec- 
 tations had been excited in Hampshire county, that there 
 would be a college there. The people of Amherst, acting in 
 concert with some of the trustees of this college residing in that 
 region, raised large subscriptions and erected buildings for the 
 reception of students, with the expectation of obtaining a char- 
 ter. Having, therefore, accommodations prepared in a region 
 upon which liis eye had been fixed, Dr. Moore was about to 
 place himself at the head of an institution there, and to take 
 
164 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 a considerable number of the students with him. The trus- 
 tees had already elected one or two persons as president, who 
 had declined, when Dr. Griffin was fixed upon ; and one of 
 their number went to Newark to lay the subject before him. 
 He had been interested in the college from its connection with 
 missionary operations ; and coming on immediately to meet 
 the trustees, he arrived here commencement day at noon, and 
 took his seat upon the stage. His appearance at that time re- 
 vived the hopes of the friends of the college ; and it was soon 
 understood that he would accept the appointment. He had 
 precisely the kind of reputation which was needed for the col- 
 lege at such a crisis ; a comparatively large class entered, and 
 the college continued to increase in numbers and to prosper till 
 1825, In February of that year, Amherst obtained a charter, 
 and as it had been often urged against granting one that two 
 colleges could not be sustained in the western part of this state, 
 it was supposed by many that it would be a death blow to this. 
 This impression caused a number of the students to take dis- 
 missions, while a very small class entered at the ensuing com- 
 mencement. It was now seen, that ' to extract the seeds of 
 consumption which had lurked in the college for eleven years, 
 something must be done to convince the public that it would 
 live and flourish in this ground,' 
 
 " The trustees accordingly resolved to attempt to raise a fund 
 of $25,000 to establish a new professorship, and to build a cha- 
 pel. In the raising of this sum. Dr. Griffin was the princi- 
 pal agent; and strengthened by an extraordinary revival of 
 religion, with which God in his mercy then favored the col- 
 lege, he accomplished what probably no other man could have 
 done. In a time of general embarrassment, he raised $12,000 
 in four weeks. The fund was completed ; a professorship of 
 rhetoric and moral philosophy was endowed; this building 
 w^as erected, and Sept. 2d, 1S28, standing where I now stand, 
 he dedicated it, ' to the honor and glory of the ever blessed 
 Trinity — Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.' Fiom that time it 
 has been felt that the college is permanent ; and it has been 
 going on side by side with sister institutions, doing its part in 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 165 
 
 carrying on the great business of education in this country. 
 In estimating this effort of Dr. Griffin, it should be remember- 
 ed that it was the first of the kind, and probably led to the 
 more extended and the successful efforts of other institutions 
 in the same way." 
 
 The following letter was addressed by Doctor 
 Griffin to the compiler of this Memoir, in com- 
 pliance with a request made in behalf of one or two 
 distinguished clergymen in England, that he would 
 give his views of the cause of the difference in the 
 mode of the operation of the Holy Spirit in Great 
 Britain and the United States. 
 
 Williams College, Nov. 14, 1828. 
 Rev. and Dear Sir, 
 
 Your favor of Aug. 16th would not have lain so long un- 
 answered but for a series of most pressing calls. Your friends 
 inquire whether the difference between England and America 
 in regard to the mode of the Spirit's operations can be referred 
 to a difference of national character, or can in arjy way be ac- 
 counted for. If by national character is meant every thing 
 by which one nation differs from others in their views, feel- 
 ings, and manners, the fact must be ascribed to national cha- 
 racter, except so far as it is to be referred to inscrutable sove- 
 reignty. Doubtless the Spirit acts so much in a line with na- 
 ture, that national character has vast influence; and to show 
 all the reasons of the difference would be to show all the cir- 
 cumstances which contribute to render one nation unlike an- 
 other. But this would be as impossible as to explain all the 
 causes of the winds blowing in such a direction and shifting 
 about continually. In both cases some general reasons can 
 be assigned, but innumerable details escape our research. 
 We must doubtless ascribe the difference in part to sovereignty 
 more or less inscrutable, — partly perhaps to the method of 
 God's covenanted mercy, — and so far as means are concerned, 
 to the manner in which they are shaped by the circumstances 
 
166 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 which influence or constitute national character. Without 
 pretending to exhaust the subject, I will offer the following rea- 
 sons for the blessings which have visited our country, leaving 
 it to our brethren on the other side of the water to determine 
 how far they are distinctive. 
 
 (1.) The sovereignty of God. This land, which was dis- 
 covered by the light of the Reformation, (in other words, by 
 that agony of the public mind which a few years after pro- 
 duced the Reformation,) seems to have been reserved for the 
 asylum of the oppressed during the troublous times before the 
 millenium, and as a place where the church might take her 
 more glorious form and grow up into millenial beauty and 
 splendor. 
 
 (2.) Some things have occurred in the history of this coun- 
 try which favor such a destiny. The United States were not 
 doomed to grow up from barbarism, bringing up with them 
 the marks and clogs of a more barbarous state. They began 
 in an enlightened age, and in possession of all the knowledge 
 and institutions of the most enlightened nation on earth. 
 The circumstances of their settlement, and still more of the 
 revolution, swept away a thousand authorities and prejudices 
 connected with long established forms, and left them to take 
 that shape which the unfettered reason of an enhghtened age 
 approved. This advantage soon discovered itself in their civil 
 institutions, in their systems of education, and no where more 
 than in their religion. 
 
 (3.) No country was ever settled by such a colony as peo- 
 pled New-England. They were among the best part of the 
 best nation on the face of the globe, and in its best age. 
 They broke away from every thing dear on earth for the sake 
 of their religion ; they came with unconquerable attachments 
 to civil and religious liberty, and brought a mass of science 
 competent to found those literary institutions which have co- 
 vered New-England with light,-— which have excluded igno- 
 rance, and left scarcely a man unable to read his Bible. 
 Their churches, their sabbaths, their laws, their rulers, their 
 colleges, their schools, all were subservient to religion. And 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 167 
 
 tliey entailed a blessing on their posterity which proved that 
 they transacted with a covenant God. Their descendants 
 have been distinguished from all the other inhabitants of the 
 United States. A part of New- Jersey was settled by the de- 
 scendants of the pilgrims, where they have remained in a 
 great measure unmixed : and 1 have seen the Spirit of God 
 repeatedly pass through their towns, and stop near the boun- 
 dary which divided them from another race. There are fami- 
 lies in New-England, in which an unbroken succession of pious 
 generations can be traced from the first settlement of the coun- 
 try to the present time. 
 
 (4.) There are circumstances in our history which have 
 given a general bias in favor of revivals. In addition to the 
 fact that New-England was born in a revival, (as it was a re- 
 vival of religion which separated the pilgrims from their coun- 
 try and brought them hither ;) a strong impression was made 
 in favor of revivals by the embalmed name of Whitefield, and 
 the great work of grace through the land in his day. The 
 influence of President Edwards and Dr. Bellamy in New- 
 England, of Presidents Davies and Finley and the Tennents 
 in the Presbyterian church, and of the converts of that day, 
 some of whom lived to a good old age and had great weight 
 of character, (as the Rev. Dr. John Rogers of New- York;) 
 the influence of these men with their writings, and the wri- 
 tings of their disciples, (as Hopkins and West and Dwight in 
 New-England, and Dr. Green and others of the Presbyterian 
 church,) have brought almost the whole country to look on 
 the revivals of that day as the work of God, and on revivals 
 in general with veneration and desire. This opinion once 
 settled, it is natural for christians to hope and pray, and strive 
 for those special movements which are called by this name. 
 And such is the coincidence between natural and supernatural 
 operations, that these efforts are likely to succeed. 
 
 (5.) The boldness and energy of New-England, formed in 
 a life of exercise, and under an invigorating sky, — formed 
 amidst the roughness of our forests, and under the impulses 
 of unbounded liberty ; the plainness of our republican man- 
 
168 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 ners, and the matter of fact character of our mental opera- 
 tions, and of our style ; the unparalleled diffusion of know- 
 ledge, under which the young grow up with strong common 
 sense, and demand to be fed with truth instead of sound ; all 
 these causes operate to produce great plainness, and directness 
 in the public preaching, and to confine it to a naked, pointed, 
 condensed exhibition of truth, — of the whole truth without 
 abatement or disguise, — even of those parts which in some 
 places would be considered strong meat. Thus " the sword 
 of the Spirit," naked and glittering, is brandished before all ; 
 and it is not likely to be brandished in vain. 
 
 (6.) But the most powerful means is yet to be mentioned. 
 It is found in the distinct apprehensions which prevail in New- 
 England about the instantaneousness of regeneration, the sin- 
 fulness of every moral exercise up to that moment, and the 
 duty of immediate submission. Such a view of things leads 
 the preacher to divide his audience into two classes, and to run 
 a strong and affecting line of demarcation between them. 
 When one feels that the moral, sober, prayerful, unregenerate 
 part of his audience are doing pretty well, and can afford to 
 wait a little longer before they submit, he will not be so press- 
 ing, nor fall with such a tremendous weight upon their con- 
 science. When he feels that they cannot do much more than 
 they do, but must wait God's time, he will not annoy and 
 weary them, and make them sick of waiting, and compel them 
 to come in. But when one enters the pulpit under a solemn 
 sense that every unregenerate man before him, however 
 awakened, is an enemy to God, is resisting with all his heart, 
 and will continue to resist until he submits, — that he must be 
 born again before he is any better than an enemy, or has 
 made any approaches towards holiness ; when one looks 
 around upon the unregenerate part of his audience and sees 
 that they are under indispensable obligations to yield at once, — 
 that they have no manner of excuse for delaying, — that they 
 deserve eternal reprobation for postponing an hour ; when one 
 feels from the bottom of his heart that there is nothing short 
 of regeneration that can answer any purpose, and that he can- 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 1(31) 
 
 not leave his dear charge to be turned from enemies of God 
 to friends ten years hence, — delivered from condemnation ten 
 years hence, — but must see it now ; O how he will pray and 
 preach ! He will give God no rest, and he will give siimers 
 no rest; and he will bring down their immediate pressing, 
 boundless obhgations upon them with the weight of a world. 
 Under such preaching sinners must either turn to God or be 
 miserable. There is no chance for them to remain at ease 
 this side of infidelity itself But the doctrine of progressive 
 regeneration must be attended with more silent and gradual 
 effects. 
 
 Some of these reasons apply with pecuhar emphasis to New- 
 England ; but the sentiments of NeAV-England are scattered 
 far and wide through the country, and her influence, in every 
 thing relating to religion and science, is felt to the land's end. 
 
 I rejoice to hear that some of the best and most enlightened 
 men in England are solemnly inquiring into the cause why 
 that land of our fathers' sepulchres, — that glory of the eastern 
 world, — is not visited with stronger manifestations of divine 
 power. It is a token for good ; and I hope and pray that the 
 time may not be far distant when that beloved country shall 
 be drenched in the heavenly flood, and become the point of 
 strong radiations to enlighten and regenerate three quarters of 
 the globe. I am, my Dear Sir, with most perfect confidence 
 and esteem, affectionately yours, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 Williams College, June 28, 1830. 
 My Dear Children, 
 
 * * * I have no doubt of the great use of the infant school 
 system to children of three and four, and perhaps to some of 
 more advanced age. To a/7, of every age below ten, it can- 
 not fail to ofler some advantages of no ordinary sort. But it 
 is an experiment ; and those who have studied the principles 
 of education most, will think themselves obhged to keep their 
 eye upon it, and watch its effects on different minds. The 
 Vol. I. 22 
 
170 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 power and habit of concentrated attention are to be ranked 
 among the most important constituents of genius; and al- 
 though much of this depends on nature, much depends on 
 education. This is a subject about whicli intellectual philoso- 
 phers largely treat ; and one of the great uses of mathema- 
 tics in a system of education, is to form the habit of close and 
 discriminating attention. It is possible that this new system 
 may prove deficient, and want to be improved in reference to 
 this matter, especially as relates to certain minds. 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 TO GEORGE GRIFFIN, ESQ. AND HIS WIFE, AFTER THE 
 DEATH OF THEIR SON, REV. EDMUND D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 Williams College, Sept. oth, 1830. 
 My Dear Brother and Sister, 
 
 Since the arrival of dear George's letter yesterday after- 
 noon, we have mingled our tears and sympathies with you in 
 no ordinary degree. This is indeed the ordering of him whose 
 footsteps are in the mighty deep and whose ways are not 
 known. But you know it is the allotment of Infinite Wisdom 
 and love. I pray that you and your children may be sup- 
 ported. I know God can make up this loss a thousand fold 
 by the impartation of spiritual blessings to you and to your 
 house, and I have a strong hope that he intends to do it. It 
 has taken a hold of Charles' mind, which encourages us to 
 pray for him and labor with him. I went over to college to 
 break it to the poor boy, and broke it gradually, and invited 
 him to come home. He did, and spent the evening, and was 
 much overcome. We all had a note for prayers put up to- 
 day, at the head of which was Charles' name. He is now 
 reading one of the most pungent of President Edwards' ser- 
 mons. If only Charles can be made a christian, Edmund, if 
 he could now speak, would say. It is a good worth dying for. 
 But I hope this for Francis and Mary, and the whole family. 
 It is a great comfort to us that the dear youth made us a 
 visit, — that we had an opportunity to see him, and love him 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 171 
 
 and ride with him, and pay him some few attentions ; and 
 especially as it afforded George an opportunity to have that 
 interesting conversation with him three weeks ago to-day, 
 which, more than any thing else before the death scene, con- 
 firmed our hopes respecting the reality of his religion. We 
 shall long cherish the rememlMance of his visit; and the 
 scenes through which I rode with him will always be dear 
 and associated with his name. 
 
 We regard it as a very merciful providence that George 
 went home with him, and was present to cheer his dying hour, 
 and to show other branches of the family the power of reli- 
 gion in such a scene of affliction. And yet his going depend- 
 ed on a very small circumstance; — a new proof among a mil- 
 lion, that if God governs great events he must govern small. 
 It must be a trying consideration, that after so much had been 
 expended on his education, and such liigh hopes were formed 
 of him, he should be taken away just as he was prepared to 
 be useful. But he has not lost his education. It prepared 
 him, I trust, for higher flights of devotion and blessedness in 
 his Father's kingdom. And whether is better, to be a profes- 
 sor or an angel 'I These repeated strokes, my dear brother and 
 sister, ought to loosen our hold on earth, and make us live the 
 rest of our days for God and eternity ; and to educate our 
 children, not so much for the glories of this world as for the 
 glories of an eternal state ; and to shape every part of their 
 education with such a reference. If I had a million of child- 
 ren, I would rather train them to take a part in the benevo- 
 lent operations of the day, and in the sanctifying delights of 
 the prayer meeting, than to shine in assemblies marked only 
 with the spirit of this world. And I doubt not that by the 
 grave of your dear Ellen and Edmund, it must appear so to 
 you. Let me entreat you not to suffer such an impression, 
 made in this solemn hour of truth, to wear off without perma- 
 nently influencing the life. Pardon me for this freedom, and 
 beUeve me to be, with a bleeding heart, and with a heart that 
 always loves you, your afflicted and afl'ectionate brother, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFI^^ 
 
172 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 TO HIS DAUGHTER MRS. SMITH. 
 
 Williams College, June 15th, 1831. 
 My dear Louisa, 
 
 * * * The influence of a mother upon the manners and 
 salvation of children, especially the latter, is probably greater 
 than that of all other created beings united. On you, then, it 
 chiefly depends, under God, what your children shall be in 
 both worlds. If you lose your authority over them, you lose 
 of course the chief part of your influence, and then your child- 
 ren lose the choicest means which God has appointed for their 
 happiness here and hereafter. If you once form such habits 
 of management as to lose your authority, you never can re- 
 gain it; for not only your own habits will stand in the way, 
 but the confirmed habits of depraved and untamed children, 
 who will no longer brook restraint. The present is your form- 
 ing period. Two or three years to come will settle the ques- 
 tion unchangeably, (especially if the habits are wrong,) whe- 
 ther you ai'e to have a government which will form your 
 children to honor, and glory, and immortality, or one which 
 will leave their corruptions to take their natural course. God 
 will certainly hold you answerable for those young immortals, 
 and for the distinguished talents which he has given you for 
 their benefit. If you have any piety, my dear child, let it be 
 brought to this bearing. Make the management of your 
 children the object of your most anxious exertions, and the 
 subject of your agonizing and unceasing prayers. 
 
 I have not time to go into a full treatise on family govern- 
 ment, but will lay down the following rules for your daily and 
 prayerful examination. 
 
 I. Exercise your authority as seldom as possible, and in- 
 stead of it employ kind persuasion and deliberate reasoning ; 
 but when you exercise it, make it irresistible. 
 
 II. Be careful how you threaten, but never lie. Threaten 
 seldom, but never fail to execute. The parent who is open- 
 mouthed to threaten, and threatens hastily, but is irresolute 
 to punish, and when the child is not subdued by the first 
 threat, repeats it half a dozen times with a voice of increas- 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 173 
 
 ing violence, and with many shakes and twitches of the little 
 culprit, will certainly possess no authority. 
 
 III. Avoid tones and gestures expressive of agitation for tri- 
 vial matters indicative of no depravity and indicating only 
 the heedlessness or forgetfulness of children, or perhaps nothing 
 more than is common to all young animals, a love to use their 
 limbs. In all such cases the tones should be kind and persua- 
 sive, rather than authoritative ; and the severity and even the 
 gravity of authority should be reserved exclusively for cases of 
 disobedience or depravity, or for the prevention of serious evil. 
 A perpetual fretting at children for little things, will inevitably 
 harden their hearts, and totally destroy parental authority and 
 influence. There never was a fretting parent, who often 
 threatened and seldom performed, that had a particle of effi- 
 cient government. 
 
 IV. Establish the unchanging habit of not commanding a 
 child but once. Cost what it may, break the child down to 
 obedience to the first command. And when this is once done, 
 if you are careful never to let disobedience escape punishment 
 of some kind or other, and punishment that shall be effectual, 
 and triumphant, you will find it not difficult to maintain your 
 absolute authority. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 In the course of the year 1831, Doctor Griffin 
 became deeply interested in reference to what has 
 been commonly called the "New Divinity." He 
 was fully of the opinion that the views which were 
 supposed to be held by the divines of that school 
 were essentially at variance, not only with plain 
 scripture, but with sound philosophy; and hence 
 he felt himself called upon to take up his pen in de- 
 fence of what he believed to be the truth as it is in 
 Jesus. The result was, that within a little more 
 than a year, he published, in connexion with this 
 
174 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 controversy, a sermon on " Regeneration not ef- 
 fected by light ;" a letter on " the connexion be- 
 tween the new measures and the new doctrines ;" 
 and a more extended treatise on " Divine efficien- 
 cy." Early in 1832 he addressed the following let- 
 ter to the Rev. Dr. Taylor of New -Haven, with a 
 view to ascertain from himself the peculiarities of 
 the system which was commonly called by his name. 
 
 Williains College, March 6, 1832. 
 Rev. and Dear Sir, 
 
 I was glad to see, in the New- York Observer, your letter 
 in answer to the questions proposed by Dr. Hawes. Com- 
 plaint had been made, you know, that you did not let the 
 whole length and breadth of your theory out, and were not 
 understood. I was glad therefore to see you so explicit. Still 
 there are a few points which I do not yet understand, and on 
 which I should deem it a privilege to receive information, if 
 you have no objection to give it. Divine truth is the common 
 property of the church ; and all the new light that is brought 
 forward should be so spread out that every one may examine 
 it fully for himself I want to examine your theory to the bot- 
 tom, so far as relates to the great question of creature depetid- 
 a?ice, and perhaps may have occasion to offer my views to the 
 public. I wish for permission to make any use of your answer 
 which the cause of truth may to me seem to require ; and un- 
 less you forbid it, shall consider myself authorized so to act. 
 
 1. You say " that the necessity of the influence of the Holy 
 Spirit in regeneration results solely from the voluntary per- 
 verseness of the sinners' heart." My question is. Are not Ga- 
 briel and Paul dependant on God for holiness ? not on light 
 merely, but on the efficient power of God acting on their hearts? 
 
 2. You say regeneration " is produced by the influence of 
 the Holy Spirit operating on the mind through truth, and in 
 perfect consistency with the nature of moral action and laws 
 of moral agency." On this two questions arise. (1.) What 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 175 
 
 is meant by " through tiutli ?" All allow that the new exer- 
 cises are put forth in view of truth as their object, and are in- 
 fluenced by different truths as their reasons. Is truth any 
 thing more in this matter? What causes the exercise to- 
 wards the truth, or in view of the truth, to be love rather than 
 hatred ? Is it God acting by his own power upon the mind ? 
 Is it truth brought clearly into view? Or is it the mind itself 
 without any other cause? (2.) What limitation or explana- 
 tion do you mean by the words, " and in perfect consistency 
 with the nature of moral action and the laws of moral agen- 
 cy?" If God causes the creature tp love truth rather than 
 hate it, still the love is the creature's own act, and in it he is 
 as free as God himself. Do you mean any thing more by the 
 above passage? Do you mean by it to explain hoio God 
 causes the mind to love the truth? If so, what is the expla- 
 nation at large ? 
 
 3. You say, (under the 6th head of negatives,) that as a 
 moral agent the sinner is qualified so to use the truth present- 
 ed to his mind as to become holy at once. Do you mean any 
 thing more than that as a rational being he \\di.snatnral abili- 
 ty, and so is reasonably bound to be holy at once? Do you 
 mean that he ever will become holy, however fully the truth 
 may be impressed on his mind, without the power of God ex- 
 erted upon his heart? 
 
 4. Under the third head of your negatives you impliedly 
 say, or seem to say, that God does not on the whole prefer 
 that sin should exist rather than not exist ; and that where it 
 does exist, he could educe more good from holiness, if crea- 
 tures "would render it." Do you mean to imply that God 
 could not have prevented sin consistently with the most per- 
 fect freedom of creatures ? 
 
 I hope, my Dear Sir, that you will not deem it obtrusive in 
 me to propose these questions on a subject so interesting to us 
 both as the friends of God and man, and that you will be- 
 lieve me to be, most sincerely. 
 
 Your friend and brother, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 R«v. Dr. N. W. Taylor. 
 
176 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 The following is Dr. Taylor's reply, and is pub- 
 lished with his consent : 
 
 Yale College, March 20th, 1832. 
 Rev. and Dear Sir, 
 
 I received yours of the 6th, a few days since. I regard it 
 as dictated by the love of truth, and in no respect " obtrusive." 
 I must however excuse myself from complying with your re- 
 quest in one particular. I have not time to make the state- 
 ments, the explanations and the defence of my views and 
 opinions on the points proposed, which I should be willing to 
 make for public controversy. You know the ambiguities of 
 language, especially in all attempts at philosophical analysis ; 
 and how difficult it is to bring two minds to understand terms 
 in the same import. What I say therefore, (you have per- 
 mitted me to make this condition,) I say with the injunction 
 on you to make no use of it whatever in any 'public discus- 
 sion. What is published on the subjects adverted to, is cer- 
 tainly all that calls for public discussion. I hope you will not 
 infer from this, that I hold opinions which I am reluctant to 
 state. I have, I think, given ample proof to the contrary. 
 Your queries, if I understand them, lead directly into an ana- 
 lysis of moral agency. Into this, I have gone somewhat mi- 
 nutely in my lectures. It would give me great pleasure to go 
 over the ground with you in conversation, and even in a cor- 
 respondence, if I had time. But I cannot present my views 
 on such a subject in extenso, on a single sheet, nor with any 
 such minuteness as the object proposed seems to require. I 
 cannot consent to write letters to my friends for the purpose of 
 giving them my views and opinions, that they may quote and 
 publish in the exercise of their judgment merely. What 
 I say therefore, I say confiding in you to make no such use 
 of it. 
 
 You ask me, " are not Gabriel and Paul dependant on God 
 for holiness — not on light merely, but on the efiicient power 
 of God acting in their hearts ?" — I should answer, that I do 
 not remember any text in the Bible which asserts this fact, in 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 177 
 
 respect to Gabriel. If therefore the fact be proved, it must be 
 proved in the way of philosophical dediiction ; and the infe- 
 rence must rest ultimately on what I esteem with Dr. Dwight, 
 the unauthorized assumption, that God cannot create, and 
 has not created an agent, a being in one respect like himself, 
 viz. perfectly qualified to act, constitutionally considered, with- 
 out being acted upon, by extrinsic efficiency. When I speak 
 of this as an unauthorized assumption, I suppose you will dis- 
 sent, and that many considerations will arise in your mind 
 quite decisive with you to the contrary. Here then would be 
 a main question. I think I can solve the supposed difficul- 
 ties on this subject, without infringing on certainty of action, 
 or what Dr. Edwards calls moral necessity on the one hand, 
 or on human libert}^, as complete as any one ever conceived 
 of, on the other. Put this to the account current of vanity 
 and presumption, for I have not time to enter into the deve- 
 lopment of my views. In view of what you say in your ser- 
 mon in the National Preacher, and the queries in your letter, 
 the whole question between us would, so far as I can see, re- 
 solve itself into the above question, respecting the possibiHty or 
 the fact of a created agent. For aught I can see, some con- 
 stitutional change in man is necessary to qualify him — or to 
 give him natural ability, to perform his duty, or it is not. 
 No matter as to this point, in what we suppose duty to con- 
 sist, whether taste, disposition, exercise or action ; for still some 
 constitutional change is necessary to the existence of that 
 called duty, or it is not. If such a change is necessary to this, 
 then so long as man is not the subject of the change, he is not 
 qualified — he has not natural ability to perform his duty. 
 This constitutional incompetency, whether it. consists in the 
 want of intellect, or will, or susceptibility, is according to the 
 supposition, that which cannot in any sense be removed, ex- 
 cept by a literal act of creation and its product. But this is 
 not in the power of man. I ask then, if man is the subject 
 of such incompetence or disqualification in respect to duty, will 
 not every mind decide that the thing called duty is a misno- 
 mer? Can this consequence be avoided, by saying he can if 
 
 Vol. I. 2.3 
 
178 RESFDENCE AT 
 
 he will; or he can if he were disposed! He can, what? 
 Can perform his duty, plainly ; can become the subject of ho- 
 liness. And what is this but a right state or act of will ? To 
 say then, that he can if he ivill, is to say that he can loill 
 right, if he wills right. But this implies either, that he has 
 no power to will right unless he actually wills right, which 
 is no ])ower at all, so long as he does not will right ; so that 
 if he wills right he has a new power ; — or, it implies that he 
 can will right by willing to will right, which is Arminian 
 self-determination. The question then is not to be evaded 
 by these shifts ; by answers which mean nothing but what is 
 absurd : but it still remains a plain simple question, viz. is 
 man, or is he not, constitutionally competent ; — is he, as cre- 
 ated, endowed with every constitutional qualification to be- 
 come morally perfect ? Can he will right ? Can he become 
 rightly disposed 1 I admit his moral inability, i. e. that per- 
 version of his natural ability., which is the reason, that he 
 never will, if left to himself, become rightly disposed. Has 
 he then natural ability to perform his duty ? And this, in my 
 view, is no other than to ask whether men are constitutionally 
 qualified to love God, as his law requires. And this is an- 
 swered by the fact, that the requirement itself is limited by the 
 very terms of the law, to their powers, or ability. It is as cer- 
 tain that they have a heart, a mind, a soul, a strength, 
 qualifying them to love, as that they are required to love. It 
 is according to what a man hath, and not according to what 
 he hath not. 
 
 But now, on the other hand, if no constitutional change 
 is necessary to qualify man to become morally perfect, then all 
 philosophical reasoning founded on the assumption of its ne- 
 cessity, is groundless and must pass for nothing. 
 
 I know that many questions may arise in your mind, when 
 it is supposed that sinful men are constitutionally qualified to 
 become morally perfect. I wish I could have an opportunity 
 with you to try to solve the difficulties. The chief point about 
 which we should differ, would, I think, respect what I call 
 constitutional (not moral) susceptibility to the motives to ho- 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 179 
 
 liaess, or to the objects of holy afTection, This your scheme, 
 if I understand it, denies, and maintains that the only thing 
 in the sinful mind to which these objects appeal, or which they 
 can touch or affect, is the selfish affection of the heart. If 
 you have not read on this topic, I hope you will read atten- 
 tively the four articles in Christian /Spectator, 1829, on 
 the Means of Regeneration, the reply in that work to Dr. 
 Tyler, in the Nos. for March, p. 147, and June, p. 380, for 
 1830. Must there not be a constitutional capacity of good 
 from an object, before it can become a motive ? Vide Edwards 
 on the Will, part i. sec. 5. Must there not be excitement to- 
 ward that good in the form of involuntary (i. e. not volunta- 
 ry) desire, propensity, &c. before choice, or love, or preference 
 is in any sense possible ? Is there any mental fact of which 
 we are more certain ? Was not the man Christ Jesus, tempted 
 in all points like as we are ? Is it not intuitive truth, that if 
 holiness or sin begin in the human mind, and have an ante- 
 cedent, in the mind, that such antecedent is not itself holy or 
 sinful ? Can there l3e holiness before holiness, or sin before sin^ 
 Does not the existence of this constitutional susceptibility to 
 the good in an object, account for the choice or love of it, so 
 far as it is necessary for this purpose to suppose any suscepti- 
 bility? Compare Gen. iii. 6, and James, i. 14, 15. Does not 
 the supposition of a moral (i. e. holy or sinful) susceptibility 
 prior to choice or preference, land us in inextricable contradic- 
 tions and absurdities? Does not the denial of a constitutional 
 susceptibility amount to a denial of constitutional qualifica- 
 tion ; to the assertion of natural inabilitJ/, or aside from tech- 
 nicalities, to an incompetence or disqualification, inconsistent 
 with moral obligation ?* Many seem to deny this constitutional 
 susceptibility, chiefly on two accounts, — the one is, that through 
 the medium of their philosophy, it looks like something in- 
 consistent with total depravity. Whereas, it is obvious that 
 there can be no total depravity without it. Not to love God, 
 
 • Caa it alter the thing to call it, as Dr. Woods does, a moral constitu^ 
 tion? 
 
180 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 if I have no constitiitional susceptibility to his excellence, 
 implies, that the reason is that 1 have no motive to love God, 
 and that it can no more be criminal in me not to love him 
 than in a tree or a stone ; while the love of the world or mam- 
 mon, must in such a case, be, not a preference of one of two 
 goods, but a mere instinctive feeling or affection. How diverse 
 in respect to guilt, is this from a preference of the inferior good 
 in a being trul}^ susceptible to the good in both, and fully qua- 
 lified to prefer either to the other? Here too I might reverse 
 the case, and ask, how could holy angels and holy Adam sin, 
 on your scheme, without a prior change in their mental con- 
 stitution? and appeal to Gen. iii. 6, as the best philosophical 
 account of such cases, which I have seen. 
 
 Another reason for denying my views on this subject, is the 
 apprehension, that all will be thrown into uncertainty — thrown 
 into the eddies of chance. This I den3^ And why this ap- 
 prehension in regard to me ? What was the doctrine of pre- 
 sident and Dr. Edwards, except the simple certainty of ac- 
 tion with power to the contrary. Is this a novelty ? Who can 
 show the two things to be inconsistent? Hie labor, &c. Or if 
 any can, — who will be orthodox, he who holds moral neces- 
 sity, or he who holds natural necessity? 
 
 You ask, w4iat is meant by " through the truth?" So it 
 seems, this scriptural phrase is not sufficiently perspicuous ; at 
 least for certain purposes. I can express my meaning in other 
 terms, whether more perspicuously or not. When I say, that 
 the change in regeneration is through the truth, I mean, that 
 the mind, the man, in view" of the object, God, which truth 
 presents, loves God supremely ; or prefers the supreme good 
 to all inferior good, with the objects of preference in view as 
 the truth exhibits them. If this is not intelligible, I know of 
 no terms that can render it so, neither does any other man. 
 But you ask, " Why love rather than hate ?" I answer, this 
 fact is to be ascribed to the special influence of the Holy Spirit, 
 without w^iose influence and aid it would never love God. 
 The question then arises, why is this influence of the Spirit 
 necessary ? I answer, not because man is not constitutionally 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 181 
 
 qualified to love God supremely; Qiot because he is not thus 
 qualified in every respect to do the very thing Avitliout this di- 
 vine inlliience, which he actually does with it. But this in- 
 fluence of the Spirit, is necessary, because the sinner on ac- 
 count of the perverseness of his heart, the strength of tiie sel- 
 fish allection, never will love God supremely without this in- 
 fluence of the Spirit. This disqualification is ?iot constitutional, 
 it is of the sinner's own making. But how does the Spirit 
 secure this change? I answer, not by acting on the truth — 
 not by literally creating any new property or attribute in the 
 mind, — not in a manner inconsistent with the nature of mo- 
 ral action or laws of moral agency, — not in a manner incon- 
 sistent with the fact, that the sinner's act is the same thing in 
 kind, which it would be, had he done it without a divine in- 
 fluence: not by creating holiness before holiness, call it by 
 what name we may. These negative assertions I suppose 
 we are authorized to make, and that in making them we op- 
 pose errors actually existing. But how positively 1 I think 
 here is a place for caution, lest we assert what we do not un- 
 derstand or cannot prove. The question carries us to the mo- 
 dus operandi^ in a specific respect., and I think sets philoso- 
 phy at defiance. There may be more ways in which this 
 may he done, by that Spirit, which searcheth the deep things 
 of God, than philosophy has dreamt of. You seem to me to 
 refer to some specific way, when you speak of " the power of 
 God exerted on the heartP If you mean, that God produces 
 a change of heart, I say yes. And yet I suppose you mean 
 something else ; but of your meaning, you will allow me to 
 say, your language docs not convey the conception to my 
 mind. If I was sure that I received the idea you intend to 
 express, I would not hesitate to say what I think of it. I do 
 not say by any means that you have not a distinct conception 
 of the thing expressed. But I do say, that I have heard much 
 said on the subject, which imparts no ideas to my mind, or at 
 least nothing which we can decide to be true. The Bible 
 seems to me to teach very clearly, that the change in regene- 
 ration is a moral change^ consisting in such a state of mind 
 
182 RESIDENCE AT * 
 
 as I have described in my letter to Br. Hawes : (vide C. Spect. 
 1832, p. 171. Look at this as explanatory of the different 
 terms used,) that it is through the truth ; i. e. that the mind 
 loves, &c. if at all, with the object in view as it is, — that it 
 never does this, however, without an influence of the Holy 
 Spirit, distinct from the natural or simple influence of truth ; 
 that while such is the constitutional structure of the mind, and 
 such the nature of truth, that the latter is fitted to produce, 
 and tends to produce, holiness in the human heart, it always 
 is and always will be resisted and counteracted by the sinner 
 without the influence of the Divine Spirit, and that therefore 
 when the change takes place, all the praise is due to God. 
 
 But that the Bible decides, or that philosophy can decide on 
 the modus operandi of the spirit in all respects, or in any im- 
 portant respect^ — beyond what I have stated, I do not see 
 reason to admit. I can conceive of more ways than one, in 
 which he who created mind can influence mind. But what 
 the actual way is, I pretend not to know. 
 
 I have not said, that God does not on the whole prefer that 
 sin should exist, rather than not exist. On the contrary, I 
 believe he does, i, e. that he prefers its existence to its preven- 
 tion by himself; and that the reason may he, that the non- 
 existence of sin, i. e. its prevention by God, would involve 
 the non-existence of the best system ; (making a distinction 
 between system and its results in moral action.) If the exis- 
 tence of sin is incidental, in respect to divine prevention to the 
 best moral system, then Ave can see in what respect, or for 
 what reason, God may have purposed the existence of sin, 
 without preferring sin under the present system, to holiness in 
 its stead. As to God's power to prevent sin, consistently with 
 perfect free agency, 1 have never said it, nor any thing which 
 implies it, in this absolute form of statement. God has such 
 power in some cases, for he does prevent sin in some cases, 
 without destroying free agency. But it is equally certain that 
 had he prevented sin in all cases, or in any case in which it 
 has existed, he must have altered the system. And if he had 
 altered the system ; — if, for example, he had interposed by mi- 
 
• WILLIAMSTOWN. 183 
 
 racles, and brought Tpe and Sidon to repentance, as he could 
 have done, (vide Matt. xi. 21,) no one can prove that the re- 
 quisite interposition would not, beyond prevention on the part 
 of God, have resulted in a vast increase of sin in the moral 
 system. 
 
 I conclusion, let me say, I am altogether pleased with your 
 letter ; — and one thing more, not inconsistent with the high 
 respect I entertain for your character, viz. you do not seem to 
 me to be well possessed of our views. Pardon me in this. It 
 may be our fault, though we think tliat such cases admit of 
 another solution. I confide in you to '-egard my request in re- 
 spect to this letter. Yours respectfully, 
 
 N. W. TAYLOR. 
 
 TO THE REV. F. MARSH. 
 
 Williams College, Sept. 18th, 1833. 
 My Dear Friend, 
 
 I received your kind and interesting letter of Aug. 10th, 
 and want to write you a whole sheet ; but my health warns 
 me to be short. I have been much out of health for the greater 
 part of a year. I have no recollection of the conversation you 
 allude to, but I remember, and never shall forget, the new 
 views of the Saviour I had just had. Those views were partly 
 expressed, soon after, in a sermon, from Heb. vii. 26, which I 
 
 thought of sending you by P if you did not come to 
 
 commencement. But my hurry and fatigue let him getaway 
 without. 
 
 I am glad to hear the good account, in all respects, of your 
 dear deaf son. Give my love to him, and tell him that when 
 he kneels to pray, Christ is not deaf. 
 
 I pray that God may give you those views of Christ that 
 are both consoling and sanctifying. I have no doubt that you 
 will one day have them in perfection. And with your desire 
 and humility, if you will ask more behevingly, I doubt not 
 you will receive at once. Give my love to Mrs. Marsh and 
 all your children. 1 am. Dear Sir, 
 
 Very affectionately yours, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
184 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 TO THE REV. DR. AYDELOTT OF CINCINNATI. 
 
 Williams College, Nov. 6th, 1833. 
 Rev, and Dear Sir, 
 
 I have just received your favor of the 25th ult. and was 
 gratified at the sight of your signature and at the approbation 
 you bestowed on my little book.* I am sorry you did not 
 reach us last fall, and beg you to be assured that I shall al- 
 ways be happy to see you. On the three points about which 
 you inquire, I will answer with the utmost pleasure. 
 
 First, you understand me to say on p. 79, " that if the de- 
 pravity of man furnishes the only occasion for the divine in- 
 terposition," that interposition "must be merely moral sua- 
 sion." Not exactly so. What I did assert was, that all who 
 believe that the Bible teaches divine efficiency in respect to 
 men, will acknowledge it true in respect to angels : " for those 
 who make our depravity the only occasion for the interposition 
 of the Spirit, and thus limit his operations to men, deny effi- 
 ciency altogether, and make that interposition a mere matter 
 of moral suasion." This is what they do ; it is no inference 
 of mine. It is a fact, I believe, that no one doubts the appli- 
 cation of divine efficiency to angels who believes it applied to 
 men : and certain it is, that those who deny its applicabUity 
 to men, do, in their express theory, leave nothing but divine 
 moral suasion both for men and angels. This they assert ; 
 and in this they are doubtless consistent with themselves. I 
 was only stating their theory. But it is manifest that if no- 
 thing but depravity gives occasion for divine efficiency, that 
 efficiency is not applied to the holy angels, and either they are 
 let alone or are only beset with divine moral suasion. But 
 none believe this who believe in any thing more than divine 
 moral suasion in respect to men. And even with this belief, 
 I see not how they can make depravity the only occasion of a 
 treatment applied both to the depraved and the spotless. 
 
 Second point, relating to what is said on the 103d p. Had 
 there been no foundation of hope, there would have been 
 no return to God ; for if there had been no Saviour there 
 
 • His work on " Divine efficiency." 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 1S5 
 
 would have been no Spirit to sanctify. It is true al^o tiiat we 
 ought to love and thank God for that foundation of hope and 
 for all his invitations and promises ; because these exhibit the 
 real benevolence and excellence of his nature. But for a son 
 wlio has offended and abused an excellent parent, to say, I 
 cannot be sorry until I know that my father will forgive me, 
 would be selfish and ignoble. God in his government of 
 wicked men, often addresses himself to mere self-love, for they 
 have nothing better to address. And where nothing but self- 
 love exists, it is dominant selfishness ; and nothing worse ex- 
 ists in hell. There are two ways in which God addresses self- 
 love. First, he does it directly, as in the case of the wicked; 
 secondl}', he does it indirectly, as when, in showing the mea- 
 sures he has taken for the happiness of his creatures, he shows 
 bis own benevolence, and thus addresses something to a higher 
 principle than self-love, — something to the love of benevolence 
 or holiness. The case supposed on the 103d p. was that of 
 beings who had all the excellence of God set before them, and 
 all their obligations, (for the lost constantly violate obligations, 
 or they have no present sin,) and yet could not love him or re- 
 pent because they had no prospect of good to themselves. 
 And pray, whither w'ould this principle carry us ? If the lost 
 are- not reasonably bound to love God and his creatures since 
 they are unchangeably assigned to perdition, they violate no 
 obligation by withholding love, and under these boundless pro- 
 vocations, are equally excusable for all their malice and rage. 
 But if they are bound to love God in their hopeless state, to 
 say they cannot be influenced by truth to love, as I cannot 
 carry that mountain, is false ; for it is saying they are not 
 bound without hope, (as a man is not bound to work for me 
 without expectation of reward.) For if they have no natural 
 ability, they have nothing to be the basis of obligation. To 
 say that the lost cannot be influenced by truth because they 
 have no hope, is to say that they cannot love God without the 
 prospect of reward, which by an easy figure may be called a 
 bribe. 
 
 You must know, my Dear Sir, that for the greater part of 
 
 Vol. I. 24 
 
186 RESIDEN'CK AT 
 
 a century the language of some of the old divines on this sub- 
 ject has been condemned by the body of the New-England di- 
 vines. That language has seldom come to my ears from liv- 
 ing lips, if ever. A young man, however, once introduced it 
 into the pulpit in Newark, before I went there, or in my ab- 
 sence, and it was long remembered as a strange doctrine. 
 He said, without hope we never could have loved God. 1 
 mention this to show you tliat the language of the old divines 
 to which you refer, is considered erroneous by the mass of the 
 churches in our country. 
 
 Third point. You refer to p. 193. 1 beg leave to refer you 
 also to the bottom of p. 15, and to pp. 181, 182, 183, and 
 middle paragraph of 187. If future events depend on God's 
 efficient will, he can foresee nothing which he has not willed. 
 For if he has not willed a thing, its existence is not certain, 
 and cannot be foreseen as certain. In regard to events which 
 do not depend on his controlling will, (if there be any such,) 
 in other words, which are independent of his will, all I can 
 say is, it is impossible for us to conceive how he could foresee 
 them. I rest nothing here on the impossibility of creating a 
 self-determining power, though that would seem like impart- 
 ing self-existence. The popular expression, that omniscience 
 foresees all possible events, is very deceptive, without explana- 
 tion. If it means, that God knows all the events which he 
 could bring to pass, it is true. If it means that he foresees 
 whatever he has willed to produce, or to suffer when his per- 
 mission would secure the event, it is true. But if it means 
 that he foresees events which belong to neither of these class- 
 es, — events which are not possible as being within the reach 
 of his power, but possible as being, though independent of 
 him, within the reacii of creative power ; then I observe two 
 things ; first, no such independent power. I suppose, is possi- 
 ble ; secondly, if it were, we cannot conceive how God could 
 foresee events wholly independent of his efficient power or ef- 
 fectual permission. 
 
 Thus, my Dear Sir, I have answered your three questions 
 as well as I could, in a very disordered state of my head and 
 
\V1LI.£AM«T0WN. IS7 
 
 nervous system, and with the many avocations which con- 
 stantly call me away. I hope your reflections will add much 
 light to these imperfect thoughts, and am, with great regard, 
 
 Your friend, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 To Dr. L. A. Smith, in reply to an invitation to 
 return to Newark and reside in his family. 
 
 Williams College^ Oct. 8t/i, 1835. 
 My Dear Son, 
 
 Your most affecting letter of the 28th ult. was received on 
 Monday, and the kindness of you and Louisa so affected my 
 nerves that I scarcely slept at all on Monday night. I thank 
 you both with all a father's love. The offer was manifestly 
 hearty and most delicately expressed. I never for a moment 
 contemplated going into your family, for I thought it would 
 not be convenient for you ; and I fully believed that it would 
 be impossible for me to live any where in Newark on my in- 
 come. But Newark is the place of all others which I would 
 choose for my residence, and your house is the house of all 
 others which I would select in Newark. ****** 
 
 * * If I come, all my posterity would be under your roof. 
 I should wish to talk and pray with the children once a day, 
 and set myself in earnest to promote their salvation. And 
 there is another matter wdiich I will ask leave to mention. 
 My conscience cannot let go the second service at the table, 
 unless I am compelled by necessity. Should you have any 
 objection to my performing that service, reserving to yourself 
 the right of retiring when business calls you ? I shall hope 
 to divide the family services with you. 
 
 I have the same view as you have respecting the impor- 
 tance of my slaying here while I have health to be useful to 
 the college. I think 1 shall stay at all events till next com- 
 mencement. If it then appears that I cannot attend recita- 
 tions for the next year, I think I ought to retire. Besides, I 
 want to prepare my MSS. for the press, and perhaps shall 
 
188 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 find in that employment work enough for the remainder of 
 
 Your afieclionate father, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 Jan. 17th, 1836. In the great fire in New- York a few 
 weeks ago, 1 lost about $2,400, which led me to think it was 
 the will of God that I should remain here longer; for on ac- 
 count of my health I had nearly made up my mind to leave 
 after next commencement. The loss led me to hope that God 
 intended to improve my health, so that I could continue to la- 
 bor for him here. I have seen his will in this dispensation, 
 and have certainly been resigned to it. I would not change 
 the circumstances if I had it in my power. I was affected in 
 reading Heb. xii. 5-11; particularly the following words: 
 " Whom tiie Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every 
 son whom he receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God deal- 
 eth with you as with sons ; for what son is he whom the fa- 
 ther chasteneth not 7 We have had fathers of our flesh which 
 corrected us. They verily chastened us after their own plea- 
 sure ; but he for our profit, that we might be partakers of his 
 hohness. Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be 
 joyous, but grievous ; nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the 
 peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised 
 thereby." The kindness of my heavenly Father in this chas- 
 tisement has appeared very tender; and I have begged of him 
 to continue to chastise me as much as I need. I never before 
 was so much affected by the anecdote of the man who, when 
 cast down, gave as the reason, " I fear my heavenly Father 
 has forsaken me ;" and when asked why he thought so, re- 
 plied, " It is a whole month since my heavenly Father afflict- 
 ed me." 
 
 I never in my hfe have more deeply realized the duty of 
 casting myself whofly on God for support and for every thing. 
 This I have done ; and have felt as I never did before, that 
 wonderful passage in Luke, xii. 22-31 : " Take no thought 
 for your Ufe. — Consider the ravens. — Consider the lihes. — 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 189 
 
 How much more will he clothe you, O ye of little faith. And 
 seek not ye what ye shall eat or what ye shall drink, neither 
 be ye of doubtful mind. For — your Father knoweth that ye 
 have need of these tilings." O how different was that pas- 
 sage intended to make us from what we usually are, in re- 
 gard to dependance on God and submission to him, and trust 
 in him, by the hour, — by the minute. Such a constant ac- 
 tion of the mind towards God in prayer and praise, I have 
 seen lo be intended by I. Thess. v. 17, 18. "Pray without 
 ceasing. In every thing give thanks." I do not mean that 
 we should think of nothing else ; but at every change of 
 measures, when we are alone, and not employed in study, 
 and frequently at other times, we should pray and give 
 thanks. 
 
 Several months ago I was deeply interested by Christ's re- 
 presentation of the Father's willingness to ansvv^er prayer, par- 
 ticularly for the Holy Spirit, where there is importunity. I 
 have been interested in it ever since. But I found some diffi- 
 culty in believing that he would assuredly answer my prayers, 
 from a doubt whether they proceeded from holy love. But I 
 have lately had such a sense of the real love of God, that I 
 have deeply felt that he is more ready to give the Holy Spirit 
 to them that importunately ask him, than parents are to give 
 bread to their imploring and hungry children. The passage 
 is in the first thirteen verses of the xii. of Luke. The disci- 
 ples had asked the Saviour to teach them to pray. He had 
 given them the form of the Lord's prayer. He then added the 
 case of the man who prevailed to borrow three loaves by his 
 " iujportunity." Then follow these words : " And 1 say unto 
 you, Ask and it shall be given you ; seek and ye shall find ; 
 knock and it shall be opened unto you. For every one that 
 askelh receivelh, and he that seeketh findeth, and to him that 
 knocketh it shall be opened. If a son shall ask bread of any 
 of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? — If ye then, 
 being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, 
 how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy 
 Spirit to them that ask him." 
 
190 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 Jan. 24. The last week 1 have seen and felt the truth of 
 that passage in Rom. v. 3, 4. "We glory in tribulation also ; 
 knowing that tribulation worketh patience, and patience ex- 
 perience, and experience hope." Afflictions have made me 
 feel that God had sent them, and have made me submit in 
 patience and in trust ; and that experience has made me hope 
 in God as a reconciled Father. The more I am afflicted, the 
 more I cast myself upon God, and the more I submit to him 
 and trust in him. O that heavenly lesson, to " pray without 
 ceasing," and " in every thing " to " give thanks."' How 
 much I have lost by not learning that lesson more perfectly 
 before. 
 
 My sins have appeared most aggravated and innumerable. 
 I believe my afflictions have been sent on their account ; and 
 the good effects of these have made me hope that my sins are 
 pardoned and forever removed. And I have often prayed, 
 and prayed with hope, that my past transgressions may never 
 rise again between God and me. I do hope to enjoy his pre- 
 sence more than I have done, and to be enabled to submit to 
 him, and trust in him in all things, — to " pray without ceas- 
 ing," and "in every thing" to "give thanks." I must thus 
 submit, and trust and pray and give thanks, if I am to enjoy 
 this access to God without a middle wall of partition between 
 us. 
 
 Jmi. 31. I have been favored of late with a spirit of submis- 
 sion to the will of God, and trust in him for all needed com- 
 forts. My mind has so habitually moved in these two ways 
 that I have continually referred every thing to his will in sub- 
 mission and trust. And it has led to continual prayer and 
 thanksgiving. I am truly grateful to God for the afflictions 
 he has sent upon me ; and cordially desire that he should ap- 
 point my trials rather than to order my own circumstances. 
 This has led to peace. 1 have found in some measure the 
 truth of that assertion, " Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace 
 whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee." 
 In consequence of this referring of all things to the will of God, 
 his providence, in a number of instances, has remarkably in- 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 191 
 
 teiposed to provide. His truth and faithfulness liave distinctly 
 appeared. My hope has been so strong that I have not been 
 afraid to die. If I am to live, I pray that I may have health 
 to devote to his service with a zeal and success luiknown be- 
 fore. If I am to do no more for him, I pray him to take me 
 to himself. I have been very much aflfected with a sense of 
 gratitude ; and so far as I can obtain distinct views of his per- 
 fections I do certainly approve of them, and think I love them. 
 I would not have them altered for any consideration ; nor 
 would I have any other one to order the circumstances of my 
 Ufe. 
 
 I have been tried with the circumstance that so many mil- 
 lions must endure such eternal anguish when God could have 
 prevented sin. Of late I have risen above this trial. In ex- 
 amining the feelings which I have towards the moral attri- 
 butes of God, I have found it necessary to examine those at- 
 tributes distinctly, and with a marked reference to the ques- 
 tion — Why is there a hell ? The examination has opened to 
 me the following views. 
 
 God is infinite benevolence. This is certainly most glori- 
 ous and lovely. He cannot of course bear to see creatures 
 rising up against each other in rage and Avar, but must de- 
 light in seeing them love one another, and in seeing the hap- 
 piness thus produced. This is his holiness, and it is only a 
 particular operation of his benevolence. This certainly is 
 lovely. The only question now remaining is about a moral 
 government. Was it benevolent for God to make a law re- 
 quiring love in creatures towards him and towards each other, 
 and forbidding the opposite passions and conduct } If he had 
 not made such a law, he would have stood aloof from crea- 
 tures, and had no more connexion with them than the su- 
 preme God of the Brahmins is supposed to have. And then 
 all exhibitions of his glory, and all intercourse with him, which 
 together constitute the liappiness of the universe, would have 
 been lost. And what then would have prevented creatures 
 from rising up against each other in everlasting war and con- 
 fusion and wretchedness ? Do you say, his sanctifying power 
 
192 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 could have prevented? And would not that have converted 
 the whole creation into mere machines? No call for the exer- 
 tion of their rational faculties in a way of duty, no sense of 
 obligation ; only they are propelled to certain feelings and ac- 
 tions by a secret influence. Where is the operation of their 
 reason or conscience? Where is their sense of right and wrong? 
 W^here is their hohness? Nothing rising above mere instinct. 
 You say, he might have told them what was right, without 
 command or penalty. But that would have left them with- 
 out obligation, — certainly without any of those infinite obliga- 
 tions resulting from his authority. It would have left them 
 altogether loose from him, without any chance for the exhibi- 
 tions of his glory, or for intercourse and communion with him. 
 And if there must be a law, there must a penalty ; otherwise 
 it is no law but mere advice. And if there must be a penal- 
 ty, that penalty must be executed, or it is nothing. Let it be 
 given out or understood that the penalty is never to be exe- 
 cuted, and the penalty is dead, and the law is turned into 
 mere advice. Had the death of Christ given out that the pe- 
 nalty was never to be executed, it would have destroyed the 
 penalty and the law. There must be a hell or there is no 
 moral government. And if no moral government, there is no 
 intercourse or communion between God and creatures. Had 
 matters been left thus, there would have been no chance for 
 all that wonderful manifestation of God and that unspeakable 
 happiness to creatures which result from the work of redemp- 
 tion. The benevolence of God was therefore engaged to ex- 
 ecute the penalty of the law by an eternal hell. I say eter- 
 nal, for if at any future time punishment should terminate, 
 and it should be given out that the penalty of the law should 
 no more be executed, that moment the moral government of 
 God Avould cease. And if there must be a hell, sin must be 
 permitted. 
 
 Now the execution of the penalty of the law is the exercise 
 of God's justice. If, then, the support of government by the 
 punishment of sin is benevolent, his justice is only another ex- 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 193 
 
 ercise of his benevolence. Thus his holiness and justice are 
 both comprehended in this glorious truth, "God is love." 
 
 These, with the goodness exercised in creation and provi- 
 dence, and the mercy and truth manifested in the gospel, com- 
 prehend the whole of God's moral perfections. And these ap- 
 pear to me glorious. I could not wish nor bear to have one 
 of them changed. Let such a God forever reign and be glo- 
 rified. 
 
 Feb. 2d. The perfections of God. — his benevolence, holiness, 
 and justice, and his moral government, have, since I wrote 
 last, appeared more glorious than ever. He is such a God as 
 I heartily approve. I love him and thank him adoringly. 1 
 submit to his providence ; I trust in him who feeds the ravens, 
 and clothes the lilies, and am at peace. I find my heart swel- 
 ling with love and gratitude to God, and with good-will and 
 kindness towards all men, as I never did before. This morn- 
 ing I spoke to a young man about that world of love and ho- 
 liness to which I wished him to go. My heart bounded at the 
 thought of a world of everlasting love and holiness, and I re- 
 peated the words over. I felt that I wished no other heaven 
 but that. I rejoice to be in God's hands, and have no anxiety 
 about any future circumstances in life. I leave every thing at 
 his disposal, with a confidence that he will provide for me. 
 My sins have lately appeared exceedingly aggravated. I ab- 
 hor myself, and repent in dust and ashes. I have often ask- 
 ed, and with hope, that past sins may never rise again between 
 God and mc. I do hope they never will. I long to have my 
 health, and to devote my health and strength to the advance- 
 ment of God's kingdom and glory ; with a zeal and success 
 unknown before. If I am not to labor for him any more I 
 am willing he should take me to himself. 
 
 Feb. 7th. Some time ago I was troubled with the thought 
 that if I should be pardoned up to this time, my future sins, 
 which will be constant, will stand between me and God. A 
 few days ago. while reading, that passage, Heb. x. 14, opened 
 upon me most convincingly: "For by one offering he hath 
 perfected forever them that are sanctified." I think I certain- 
 
 Vol. I. 26 
 
194 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 jy had faith that the one sacrifice of Christ would remove 
 from those who are once sanctified, the guilt of all future, as 
 well as all past sins. My faith in Christ of late has been much 
 more clear than it commonly has been. I find it easy to re- 
 alize that the death of Christ, by answering the purpose of 
 our punishment, is the ground of our pardon ; that his obe- 
 dience obtained for us all positive blessings ; that he is the 
 ground of our acceptance with God ; that as King of Zion 
 he distributes the whole estate, and may be approached in 
 prayer, as God himself, for all needed blessings. All this is 
 a delightful reality. 
 
 In connexion with this, the other day while reading in the 
 Psalms, a verse respecting God's truth delighted me with a 
 realizing sense of that perfection. I forget what verse it was, 
 but it was one like the following: "For thy mercy is great 
 unto the heavens, and thy truth unto the clouds." " His truth 
 shall be thy shield and buckler." " Happy is he that hath 
 the God of Jacob for his help, — which keepeth truth forever." 
 " Let thy loving kindness and thy truth continually preserve 
 me." I have since had a most impressive and delightful sense 
 of the truth of God. 
 
 The benevolence, holiness, justice, mercy, and truth of God 
 appear real and delightful ; and his moral government appears 
 glorious. I find an habitual submission to him, and trust in 
 him for all needed blessings ; and look to him to guide me in 
 the path of duty. I long for higher degrees of sanctification. 
 I love to be in his hands, and feel safe there, without anxiety 
 for future provisions for tliis life. " Thou wilt keep him in 
 perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trust- 
 etli in thee." I feel more benevolence and tenderness towards 
 my fellow men, more patience in view of their faults, more 
 meekness and humility. I read the Bible with more faith, 
 and pray with more delight and more confidence in God. I 
 think I am enabled, in some measure, to comply with the in- 
 junction in Phil. iv. G, 7, and to enjoy the peace there pro- 
 mised. " Be careful for nothing, but in every thing by prayer 
 and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 195 
 
 known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all 
 understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through 
 Christ Jesus." 
 
 When I sat down to write my treatise on Divine Efiiciency, 
 I was out of health, and was so lame that I could take no 
 exercise. It occurred to me that to write that book without 
 exercise might cost me my life. But I was so affected with 
 the dishonor cast on God by denying him the glory of effi- 
 ciently sanctifying the heart, that I said with tears, I will write 
 this book and die, meaning I will write it if I die. I wrote it 
 with a tender regard for the divine glory which I was defend- 
 ing. 1 never wrote a book with so much feeling of this sort, 
 nor a sermon except one. I mean the Murray-street Sermon, 
 from 1 Cor. i. 31, written in 1830. I wrote that with my eye 
 
 on Dr. AV , then an infidel, and sick with what proved 
 
 his last sickness. I was most deeply affected through the 
 whole of it, and wrote it with a strong desire for the convic- 
 tion and salvation of Dr. W. He had just before resisted my 
 argument with vehemence if not with passion. After I had 
 finished my sermon I read it to him at two different sittings — 
 half at a time. He never resisted afterwards ; and gave such 
 evidence of conversion and faith that his pious wife and other 
 pious friends have no doubt that he went to heaven. 
 
 Feb. 14^/i. I have been affected of late by that passage in 
 Eph. v. 22-33. The Church is Christ's spouse, whom he 
 loves as his own flesh. " We are members of his body, of his 
 flesh, and of his bones." Then certainly Christ's love to be- 
 lievers must be constant, boundless and unchangeable. And 
 the Father, regarding them as the very flesh of Christ, must 
 feel an infinite nearness to them, — of course for Christ's sake. 
 Contemplating them as the body of Christ, and of course dear 
 to the Father because Christ is dear, I have found it easy to 
 realize that we are loved and accepted for Christ's sake. There 
 is one between us and God, who is the medium through 
 which he views us, — who is infinitely dear to the Father, and 
 is the real ground of our acceptance, and of every favor sent 
 upon us. All this is real to my mind. Can it be otherwise 
 than faith ? 
 
196 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 And if I have been distinguished from my former compa- 
 nions, who were left to perish, by a principle of hfe and a title 
 to heaven, what boundless and eternal obligations has it laid 
 me under ! Everlasting thanks to God ! May all my pow- 
 ers be devoted to his service and praise. My heart's desire is, 
 that for the rest of my life I may give up the world and be 
 wholly his, — that I may submit to him and trust in him for all 
 things, and that my past sins may never again rise between 
 him and me. 
 
 Feb. 17th. Those words in Phil. ii. 3, 4, " in lowliness of 
 mind let each esteem other better than themselves. Look 
 not every man on his own things, but every man also on the 
 things of others;" have of late been made special to my mind, 
 as reminding me of my duties to my fellow-men. O God, 
 may I subject my own interests and feelings to the interests 
 and feelings of others as far as thy word requires ; and may 
 I keep this law ever before me ! 
 
 I have had this winter turns of dizziness and faintness. 
 Two days ago I had a turn, and wholly lost myself, — for how 
 many seconds I cannot tell. The physicians apprehend apo- 
 plexy. It has produced upon me a solemn impression that I 
 must hold myself ready for a sudden death. Lord, may I be 
 prepared to resign my spirit into thy hands without a moment's 
 warning ! 
 
 Feb. 25th. I have been struck lately with two passages, en- 
 couraging an unlimited trust in God. The first is in Hebrews 
 xiii. 5, 6. "Let your conversation be without covetousness, 
 and be content with such things as ye have ; for he hath said, 
 I will never leave thee nor forsake thee. So that we may 
 boldly say. The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what 
 man shall do unto me." The other is in 1 Peter, v. 7. 
 "Casting all your care upon him, for he careth for you." 
 Surely we may and ought to trust in God for all things, even 
 in the darkest times. There is no extravagance in this, un- 
 less we indulge in unreasonable desires and expectations; as 
 if we should trust in him for an independent fortune. The 
 xxxviith Psalm is throughout of the same kind. 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN, 197 
 
 This is the day of fasting and prayer for the colleges. O 
 God, lielp me to pray, and help the great body of christians to 
 pray, for the permanent effusions of the Spirit upon our col- 
 leges and schools ! And may great effects follow from the ex- 
 ercises of this day. 
 
 Feb. 26th. In offering thanksgiving to God to-day I was 
 struck with the thought that this exercise, truly performed, is 
 really the exercise of gratitude in that view of his perfections 
 and their operations which produces love, or is love ; and that 
 if I wished to be filled with gratitude and love to God, to be 
 really holy, the most effectual way was to be much employed 
 in thanksgiving. The subject opened upon me in a light en- 
 tirely new, and convinced me that I had not enough dwelt on 
 this part of my duty in prayer. 
 
 TO DR. L. A. SMITH. 
 
 Williams College, Feb. 26th, 1836. 
 My Dear Son, 
 
 * * * * Eight or ten days ago I had a faint turn and 
 entirely lost myself for a second or two, attended with a labor 
 in breathing. I have had such turns, more slightly, often this 
 winter, occasioned, I believe, by writing and intense thought, 
 and perhaps bending to write. I have transcribed 36 sermons 
 since quite late in October. I am afraid of apoplexy, and so 
 is Dr. Emmons. I must hold myself ready for a sudden 
 death. I never had such views as I have had since my loss, 
 and especially since my faint turn. I have had nearly the 
 full assurance of hope, and have felt not afraid to die. A col- 
 lection of Scripture texts which have been made very special 
 to me, I want to send to Louisa, and think I shall ere long. 
 I have often said, and generally thought, that I would not 
 have that afflictive providence changed for a thousand worlds. 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 March 20th. It appears more and more important to ad- 
 dress the Saviour on his throne, and to thank him for coming 
 down to the agonies of the cross, and to ask of him sanctifi- 
 
198 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 cation and pardon. He is "the author and finisher of our 
 faith." and was enabled to be both " a Prince and a Saviour 
 for to give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins." As 
 mediatorial King he has power to distribute all the blessings 
 which come through his atonement, or which he purchased 
 by his obedience. I think I certainly depend on him as the 
 ground of all that I hope to receive, and feel that it is the Fa- 
 ther's love to the Son, and his love to the body and members 
 of his Sou from his love to the Head, (as well as his own in- 
 finite benevolence,) which induces him to give us the Holy 
 Spirit and all other positive blessings. If I do not believe in 
 these things I know not what 1 do believe. 
 
 In view of the wonderful work of redemption and the une- 
 qualled display of the divine glory therein, I have lately felt 
 bound to thank God for selecting this distinguished world for 
 the place of my existence ; this world which is to send out a 
 report through the universe, and to be the sun to enlighten all 
 other worlds. And O the obligations I am under for having 
 ray birth in a land of Gospel light, and not in pagan dark- 
 ness, which would have ensured my destruction; and for dis- 
 tinguishing me from my former companions who were left to 
 perish, by regenerating grace, if indeed I have been born 
 again. For this I am bound eternally to give thanks. To 
 such a God I ought to have devoted my life continually. 
 And O to think of the sins which I have committed since, 
 crushes me in the dust. 
 
 I have lately been delighted with the thought that the day 
 is coming when there shall " be upon the bells of the horses. 
 Holiness unto the Lord, and every pot in Jerusalem and in 
 Judah shall be hohness unto the Lord of Hosts;" when the 
 most common utensils for dressing food, and every article, shall 
 be consecrated to God. I have desired thus to consecrate all 
 that I possess, and do rejoice that God is to be thus glorified 
 through the earth. I can think of nothing more delightful 
 than that. Among the grounds of gratitude to God I have 
 lately, and with strong feelings, placed the circumstance of 
 living in such a day as this, so near the millenium, and when 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 199 
 
 the Protestant church is waking up to strong and increasing 
 efforts for the salvation of the world and the glory of God. 
 If I am not delighted with the plan of salvation, — if I am not 
 grateful to God for his wonderful and constant mercies, — if I 
 do not love the character of God, and believe in the gospel of 
 Christ, — if I do not repent of sin, — if I do not feel my depend- 
 ance on God for all things, and trust in him who feeds the ra- 
 vens and clothes the lilies, and feel resigned to his providence, 
 whatever he sends, — if the truths of his word are not made to 
 me glorious realities, — then I am indeed greatly mistaken as 
 to the most sensible exercises of my own heart. 
 
 May \st, Sabbath. A few days ago, and for more than one 
 day, I felt it uncommonly sweet to trust in God for every sup- 
 ply and for every want in life, — a feeling which, in a less sen- 
 sible degree, has been habitual through the winter and spring. 
 There appeared One above whom it was delightful to trust, 
 whom I loved to think upon as having the management, and 
 who held iiimself bound to provide for all who trusted in him. 
 I could say from sweet experience, " Thou wilt keep him in 
 perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trust- 
 eth in thee." 
 
 Some time ago it became a delightful thought that the time 
 was coming when Holiness to the Lord would be written on 
 the whole furniture of this globe, and that the earth would 
 thus be filled with the glory of the Lord. It was so delight- 
 ful that I have incorporated the thought with my daily prayers. 
 I think I can truly say that there is no thought so sweet as 
 that God will be glorified, and glorified in the great work of 
 redemption. 
 
 This day was the sacrament. In praying beforehand that 
 I might give myself away to Christ at the table, my heart 
 bounded at the thought. I had longed to be united to the Sa- 
 viour and to have him for my Saviour, and now I had per- 
 mission to give myself away to him and effect the union. 
 This was the siiape of the thought which appeared real and 
 delightful, and opened to me as something new. I longed to 
 honor that Saviour, to have him for my own, and to enjoy him. 
 
200 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 May Stk, Sabbath. For some days past, being unwell, my 
 mind has been so depressed in view of past sins, as to create a 
 doubt respecting my religious state. The same causes wea- 
 kened my faith and love. But this morning, in reading that 
 blessed passage, Luke, xi. 1-13, my faith and love revived, 
 and I could contemplate God with confidence and delight. I 
 believe that he will hear prayer. I delight to put my trust in 
 him for all things, and am rejoiced that his glorious perfec- 
 tions will be revealed to an astonished universe through the 
 amazing work of redemption. 
 
 June 13th. Yesterday, (the sabbath,) in reading the life of 
 Brainerd, I fell upon this sentence : " In the evening had the 
 most agreeable conversation which I remember in all my hfe, 
 upon God's being all in all, and all enjoyments being just 
 that to us which God makes them, and no more." My heart 
 instantly went into the subject, and felt it desirable and plea- 
 sant that the will of God should in all things be done. 1 had 
 been tried about provisions for this life, and was then under 
 trial. I then saw that the will of God loould in all things be 
 done. I chose that it should be so. I had confidence in him, 
 and trusted in him for future support, and was resigned to his 
 will. I have felt so, most of the time, while awake, ever 
 since ; and though an event which I had feared has come to 
 pass, I feel quiet, undisturbed, and commit all my future course 
 to God, and rejoice that " the Lord God Omnipotent reign- 
 €th." 
 
 June 26th. Sabbath. For the last three days especially, I 
 have been delighted to have the will of Christ done in the go- 
 vernment of the world, and have felt resigned to his will, and 
 wished it done rather than my own, and have found it easy 
 to trust in him, confident that his will must be the rightest, 
 the wisest, the most for the public good, and most to be re- 
 joiced in. This has swallowed up all anxiety about my fu- 
 ture interest on earth, and produced a feehng of real gratitude 
 and delight. 
 
 July I3th. Trust in God for future support is encouraged 
 and enjoined in L Tim. vi. 17. " Charge them that are rich 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 201 
 
 in this world, that they be not high-minded, nor trust in un- 
 certain riches, but in the living God, who giveth us richly all 
 things to enjoy." This trust I continue habitually to feel. I 
 am daily delighted to think that infinite wisdom and love con- 
 trol all events, and my eyes have repeatedly moistened at the 
 thought that Christ is on the throne and governs all things. 
 It is delightful to think that he loves his disciples as the Fa- 
 ther loveth him ; John xv. 9 ; that he loves his church as his 
 own tlesh ; Eph. v. 22-32. 
 
 Juli/3lst. iSabbath. I had supposed, from my loss by the 
 fire, that it was the purpose of God to give me health to re- 
 main here a few years longer. But I find a general discou- 
 ragement about my health among the trustees and scholars, 
 mingled with great respect and kindness. And on the occa- 
 sion of the late visit of the standing committee of the trustees, 
 I became as fully convinced as I could have been by a voice 
 from heaven, that it will be my duty to resign at commence- 
 ment. I have earnestly prayed for direction, and feel thank- 
 ful to God for making my duty so plain. I tendered my re- 
 signation the last commencement, but the trustees did not see 
 fit to accept it. They will accept it now. How I am to be 
 provided for I do not know, but I trust in God, and I feel it 
 my duty and my privilege to be entirely resigned to his will. 
 Infinite benevolence and wisdom will do that vvhicli will be 
 most desirable for the holy universe. 
 
 I expected my absent children and grand-children here on 
 Friday. They have not come, and sickness has likely detain- 
 ed them at Newark. This whole business I leave with God 
 and rejoice that every circumstance respecting them is under 
 his control. 
 
 That trust in God which I have expressed in former arti- 
 cles continues ; and I have for some time wished to present, in 
 one view, those texts which have encouraged my trust, and 
 others which I find in the scriptures. I will now do it. 
 
 Texts which plainly require, and fully authorize an unli- 
 mited trust in God, for the good things of this life. Luke xii. 
 22-31, (as Mat. vi. 25-34.) " Therefore I say unto you, 
 
 Vol. I. 26 
 
202 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, neither for 
 the body, what ye shall put on. The life is more than meat, 
 and the body is more than raiment. Consider the ravens ; 
 for they neither sow nor reap ; which neither have store-houses 
 nor barn ; and God feedelh them. How much more are ye 
 better than the fowls? And which of you, with taking 
 thought, can add to his stature one cubit ? If ye then be not 
 able to do that thing which is least, why take ye thought for 
 the rest? Consider the hlies how they grow; they toil not ; 
 they spin not ; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all 
 his glory was not arrayed like one of these. If then God so 
 clothe the grass, which is to-day in the field, and to-morrow 
 is cast into the oven ; how much more will he clothe you, O 
 ye of little faith ? And seek not ye what ye shall eat, or what 
 ye shall drink, neither be ye of doubtful mind. For all these 
 things do the nations of the world seek after ; and your Fa- 
 ther knoweth that ye have need of these things. But rather 
 seek ye the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be ad- 
 ded unto you."— Ps. xxxvii. 3-5, 7, 11, 18, 19, 22, 25, 29, 
 34, 40. " Trust in the Lord and do good ; so shalt thou dwell 
 in the land and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also 
 in the Lord, and he shall give thee the desires of thy heart. 
 Commit thy way unto the Lord ; trust also in him, and he 
 shall bring it to pass. Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently 
 for him. The meek shall inherit the earth, and shall delight 
 themselves in the abundance of peace. The Lord knoweth 
 the days of the upright, and their inheritance shall be forever. 
 They shall not be ashamed in the evil times, and in the days 
 of famine, they shall be satisfied. For such as be blessed of 
 him shall inherit the earth. I have been young and now am 
 old ; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed 
 begging bread. The righteous shall inherit the land and 
 dwell therein forever. Wait on the Lord and keep his way, 
 and he shall exalt thee to inherit the land. And the Lord 
 shall help them and deliver them ; he shall deliver them from 
 the wicked and save them, because they trust in him." — Ps. 
 i. 1,3. " Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 203 
 
 of the ungodly. And he shall be like a tree planted by the 
 livers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season ; his 
 leaf also shall not wither, and whatsoever he doth shall pros- 
 per." — Ps. V. 11. " Let all those that put their trust in thee re- 
 joice ; let them ever shout for joy because thou defendest 
 them." — Ps. xviii. 30. " The word of the Lord is tried ; he is 
 a buckler to all those that trust in him." — Ps. xxvii. 10. 
 " When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord 
 will take me up." — Ps. xxxi. 19, 20. " O how great is thy 
 goodness which thou hast laid up for tliem that fear thee; 
 which thou hast wrought for them that trust in thee before the 
 sons of men. Thou shalt hide them in tlie secret of thy pre- 
 sence from the pride of man ; thou shalt keep them secretly in 
 a pavilion from the strife of tongues." — Ps. xxiii. 1, 2, 5, 6. 
 " The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh 
 me to lie down in green pastures ; he Icadeth me beside the 
 still waters. Thou prepares! a table before me in the presence 
 of my enemies ; thou anointest my head with oil ; my cup 
 runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all 
 the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord 
 forever." — Ps. xxxi v. 9, 10, 22. "O fear the Lord ye his 
 saints ; for there is no want to them that fear him. The 
 young hons do lack and suffer hunger ; but they that seek 
 the Lord shall not want any good thing. The Lord redeem- 
 eth the soul of his servants, and none of tliem that trust in 
 him shall be desolate." — Ps. xl. 4. " Blessed is that man that 
 maketh the Lord his trust." — Ps. Iv. 22. " Cast tliy burden 
 upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee ; he shall never suf- 
 fer the righteous to be moved." — Ps. Ixxxiv. 11, 12. "The 
 Lord God is a sun and shield ; the Lord will give grace and 
 glory ; no good thing will he withhold from them that walk 
 uprightly. O Lord of hosts, blessed is the man that trusteth 
 in thee." — Ps. cxxviii. 1,2. " Blessed is every one that feareth 
 the Lord, that walketh in his ways. For thou shalt eat the 
 labor of thine hands. Happy shalt thou be, and it shall be 
 well with thee." — Prov. x. 3. '• The Lord will not suffer the 
 soul of the righteous to famish, but he casteth away the sub- 
 
204 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 stance of the wicked." — Prov. xiii. 25. " The righteous eateth 
 to the satisfying of his soul, but the belly of the wicked shall 
 want." — Piov. xvi, 3, 20. " Commit thy works unto the Lord, 
 and thy thoughts shall be established. He that handleth a 
 matter wisely shall find good ; and whoso trusteth in the Lord, 
 happy is he." — Prov. xxii. 4. " By humihty and the fear of 
 the Lord, are riches and honor and life." — Prov. xxviii. 10, 
 25. " The upright shall have good things in possession. He 
 that putteth his trust in the Lord shall be made fat." — Prov. 
 xxix. 25. " Whoso putteth his trust in the Lord shall be 
 safe." — Prov. xxx. 5. "He is a shield unto them that put their 
 trust in him." — Isaiah xxx. 18. " Therefore will the Lord wait 
 that he may be gracious unto you, and therefore will he be 
 exalted that he may have mercy upon you ; for the Lord is a 
 God of judgment ; blessed are all they that wait for him." — 
 Isaiah Ivii. 13. " He that putteth his trust in me shall possess 
 the land, and shall inherit my holy mountain." — Jer. xvii. 7, 
 8. " Blessed is the man that trusteth in the liord, and whose 
 hope the Lord is. For he shall be as a tree, planted by the 
 waters, and that spreadeth out her roots by the river, and shall 
 not see when heat cometh, but her leaf shall be green, and 
 shall not be careful in the year of drought, neither shall cease 
 from yielding fruit." — Mar. x. 29, 30. " There is no man that 
 hath left house, or brethren, or sister, or father, or mother, or 
 wife, or children, or lands, for my sake and the Gospel's, but 
 he shall receive a hundred fold now in this time, houses and 
 brethren and sisters, and mothers and children, and lands 
 with persecutions, and in the world to come eternal life." — 
 Phil. iv. 6, 7. " Be careful for nothing ; but in every thing by 
 prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests 
 be made known unto God. And the peace of God which 
 passeth all understanding shall keep your hearts and minds 
 through Christ Jesus." — I. Tim. iv. 8. " Godhness is profita- 
 ble unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and 
 of that which is to come." — I. Tim. vi. 17. " Charge them 
 that are rich in this world, that they be not high-minded, nor 
 trust in uncertain riches, &ut in the Hving God who giveth us 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 205 
 
 lichly all things to enjoy."— Heb. xiii. 5, 6. " Let your conver- 
 sation be without covetousness, and be content with sucli 
 things as ye have ; for he hath said, I will never leave thee nor 
 forsake thee. So that we may boldly say, The Lord is my 
 helper, I will not fear what man shall do unto me." — I. Pet. 
 V. 7. " Casting all your care upon him for he careth for you." 
 There are other texts which speak more generally of the 
 eflccts of trusting in God. 1 Chron. v. 20. "And they were 
 helped against them, and the Hagarites were dehvered into 
 their hand, and all that were with them : for they cried to God 
 in the battle, and he was entreated of theni, because they put 
 their trust in him." — 2 Chron. xiv. 11, 12. "And Asa cried 
 unto the Lord his God, and said, Lord, it is nothing with thee 
 to help, whether w'ith many, or with them that have no power. 
 Help us, O Lord our God; for w^e rest on thee, and in thy 
 name we go against this multitude. O Lord, thou art our 
 God, let not man prevail against thee. So the Lord smote the 
 Ethiopians before Asa." — Ps. xvii. 7. " Shew thy marvellous 
 loving kindness, O thou that savest by thy right hand them 
 which put their trust in thee, from those that rise up against 
 them." — Ps. xxi. 7. "The king trusteth in the Lord, and 
 through the mercy of the Most High he shall not be moved." — 
 Ps. xxii. 4, 5. " Our fathers trusted in thee : they trusted and 
 thou didst deliver them. They cried unto thee and were de- 
 livered : they trusted in thee and w ere not confounded." — 
 Ps. xxvi. 1. "I have trusted in the Lord; therefore I shall not 
 slide." — Ps. xxviii. 7. " The Lord is my strength and my 
 shield ; my heart trusted in him and I am helped." — Ps. xxxii. 
 10. " He that trusteth in the Lord, mercy shall compass him 
 about." — Ps. Ivi. 4. " In God I have put my trust ; I will not 
 fear what flesh can do unto me." — Ps. xci. 2-16. "' I will say 
 of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress ; my God, in 
 him will I trust. He shall cover thee with his feathers, and 
 under his wings shalt thou trust ; his truth shall be thy shield 
 and buckler. A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thou- 
 sand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee. Be- 
 cause thou hast made the Lord which is my refuge, even the 
 
206 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 most High, thy habitation, there shall no evil befall thee, nei- 
 ther shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling. For he shall 
 give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. 
 They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy 
 foot against a stone." — Ps. cxxv. 1. "They that trust in the 
 Lord shall be as Mount Zion, which cannot be removed, but 
 abideth forever." — Ps. cxliv. 1, 2. " Blessed be the Lord my 
 strength, which teacheth my hands to war and my fingers to 
 fight; my goodness and my fortress, my high tower and my 
 deliverer, my shield, and he in whom I trust ; who subdueth 
 my people under me." — Prov. xvi. 20. "Whoso trusteth in the 
 Lord, happy is he." — Isaiah, xli. 17, 18. " "When the poor and 
 needy seek water and there is none, and their tongue faileth 
 for thirst, I the Lord will hear them, I the God of Israel will 
 not forsake them. I will open rivers in high places, and foun- 
 tains in the midst of the valleys ; I will make the wilderness 
 a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water." — Isaiah, 
 Ixiv. 4. " For since the beginning of the v/orld men have not 
 heard nor perceived by the eye, neither hath the eye seen, O 
 God, besides thee, what he hath prepared for him that waiteth 
 for him." — Jer. xxxix. 18. "I will surely deliver thee and thou 
 shalt not fall by the sword, — because thou hast put thy trust 
 in me, saith the Lord." — Dan. iii. 28. " Blessed be the God of 
 Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, who hath sent his angel, 
 and delivered his servants that trusted in him." 
 
 In view of the whole, we may break forth in the sweet lan- 
 guage of the evangelical prophet, (Isaiah, xxvi. 3, 4,) "Thou 
 wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee, 
 because he trusteth in thee. Trust ye in the Lord forever, for 
 in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength." 
 
 August 7th, Sabbath. I received a letter yesterday, bring- 
 ing with it a disappointment about a charitable contribution 
 for the college to purchase my library. In the evening my 
 daughter received a letter from her husband. Dr. Smith, who 
 had heard of my intention to remove, and who rejoiced in it, 
 and cordially invited me to his house as my home. The first 
 letter gave me pain, though accompanied by resignation to the 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 207 
 
 will of God and trust iii him ; the latter was mercifully order- 
 ed for my support under the disappointment. I this morning 
 feel entirely resigned to the will of God, and can trust in him 
 for future support. What can I desire more than that infinite 
 wisdom and benevolence should govern the world and order 
 every event .^ I wish to employ those means which duty dic- 
 tates ; and having done that, I will leave the ordering of my 
 life to God. I know that I am resigned to his will in regard 
 to all future circumstances in this world, and can, though with 
 less distinctness, trust in him for future support. 
 
 Auffiist \Ath. iSabbath. Expect to preach to-day for the 
 last time in this meeting-house, a sermon to the graduating 
 class. In my weak state of health I had been somewhat agi- 
 tated with the uncertainty and trouble of selling my library, 
 furniture, and other things, and about my future support; but 
 for a day and a half past I have been remarkably composed 
 under the influence of resignation and trust. My being sent 
 hither was doubtless a great mercy, and I have every rea- 
 son therefore to bless God for it. And now it is plainly 
 his will that I should go. It is his will that I should be 
 placed in just such circumstances ; and it is doubtless my 
 duty to submit to him and trust in him with entire composure 
 and peace. How sweet to think that infinite benevolence and 
 wisdom will shape all my circumstances. What can I desire 
 more ? I was yesterday composed by reading Luke, x. 38-42. 
 " Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many 
 things : but one thing is needful. And Mary hath chosen 
 that good part which shall not be taken away from her." In- 
 stead of being troubled about the things of time and sense, I 
 long that my future life may be devoted to God with heaven- 
 ly affections ; and that, no longer careful about the world, I 
 may be wholly engaged in promoting his kingdom and in pre- 
 paring for my glorious rest. O may I thus spend the residue 
 of my days ! I think I never desired this so much before. 
 May my future years or months be wholly taken up in the 
 love, and service, and praise of God. May I be carried through 
 the present scenes with the sweet composure of submission 
 
208 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 and trust. Why should I be anxious about the world ? My 
 mind has lately been considerably impressed with those words 
 of the Apostle, 1 Tim. vi. 6-11, '-Godliness with content- 
 ment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, 
 and it is certain we can carry nothing out. And having food 
 and raiment, let us be therewith content. But they that will 
 be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many fool- 
 ish and hurtful lusts which drown men in destruction and per- 
 dition. For the love of money is the root of all evil ; which 
 while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith and 
 pierced themselves through with many sorrows. But thou, O 
 man of God, flee these things." O may these sentiments be 
 deeply and permanently impressed upon my heart. And then 
 I see not what I have to be anxious or careful about, but to 
 promote the kingdom of Christ and prepare for heaven. 
 
 Doctor Griffin's health, which had been gradu- 
 ally declining for two or three years, at length be- 
 came so much enfeebled that he found himself quite 
 inadequate to the duties of his office ; and accord- 
 ingly at the meeting of the Board of Trustees in 
 August, he again tendered his resignation, after 
 having occupied the Presidential chair fifteen years. 
 It was of course accepted, but with deep regret on 
 the part of the Board that the occasion for it should 
 have existed, and with the warmest gratitude for 
 the important services which he had rendered to 
 the institution. 
 
 In reference to the arrangements for his removal 
 to Newark, he writes thus in his diary : 
 
 Aug. 2Sth, Sabbath. I contemplated the sale of my furniture 
 and books and the trouble of removal as a fearful undertak- 
 ing ; and without submission and trust should have sunk un- 
 der it. But God has so remarkably supported and prospered 
 me during the last week, that I seem almost to have been 
 
WILLIAMSTOWN. 209 
 
 brought through this trial. Thanks to a merciful and faith- 
 ful God for all these blessings! Since my contemplated re- 
 moval I have longed more than I ever did before, to spend the 
 remainder of my life in heavenly devotion. I cannot calcu- 
 late so much as I have done on public usefulness, (though 
 this I desire,) but I long and pray for high communion with 
 God, and for affections toward him more ardent and delightful 
 than I ever felt before. O God, give me this high state of ho- 
 liness and enjoyment for the rest of my life, and all tlie use- 
 fulness which thy wisdom can allot to me, and my highest 
 wishes of a personal nature are gratified. 
 
 Doctor Griffin remained at Williamstown till 
 about the close of September, completing his ar- 
 rangements for the removal of his family to New- 
 ark. He subsequently refers in his journal to the 
 event of their departure in the following paragraph. 
 
 I left Williamstown with my family on Thursday the 29th 
 Sept. The people there showed us great affection and express- 
 ed much regret at our departure. The students appointed a 
 committee of two from each class to express their respect and at- 
 tachment, and it was done in a manner the most affectionate. 
 The Faculty invited me to a social dinner at the Mansion 
 House. As I was getting into the carriage on Thursday 
 morning, the students came up in procession to take their last 
 leave. I made an address to them from the carriage, and 
 some of them wept. 
 
 The following is the letter from the students re- 
 ferred to in the preceding paragraph. 
 
 Reverend Sir, 
 
 Prompted by the feelings which the near departure of 
 one so respected and esteemed naturally elicits, the college as- 
 sembled this morning and appointed us their committee to ex- 
 press to you their sentiments on this occasion. Those of them 
 
 Vol. 1. 27 
 
210 RESIDENCE AT 
 
 who have been witnesses and partakers of the benefits you 
 have conferred on the college, acted from the deep feeling of 
 gratitude; those who have lately become of the number of stu- 
 dents, were influenced by your celebrity as a preacher — your 
 character as a man. 
 
 Knowing this, it is with peculiar feelings that we have un- 
 dertaken to become their organ, and we should despair of ex- 
 pressing to you their opinions, were we not conscious of their 
 active existence in our own bosoms. When a distinguished 
 man departs from the scene of his former actions, he is fol- 
 lowed by the aspirations of those who have been benefitted by 
 his influence. If to have given celebiity to our Alma Mater, 
 and a name of which we can proudly boast, — if to have given 
 us sound moral and religious principles, on which we can 
 firmly base our actions, and to have exemplified the beauty 
 and simplicity of a good man's career, have conferred on us 
 obligations, — you will appreciate the feelings which agitate our 
 minds at the thought of your departure. Praise we do not 
 oflTer, for it would be futile; — useless to one who stands so high 
 in the opinion of all ; but we present you with a better gift, — 
 our kindest feelings and hopes for your future welfare. 
 
 In the name of the college, we bid you an affectionate fare- 
 well. 
 
 LEWIS BENEDICT, Jr. 
 SAM'L G. JONES, 
 - THOS. A. HALE, 
 
 LAEAN S. SHERMAN, 
 
 SAM'L P. ANDREWS, / Committee. 
 
 RUFUS G. WELLS, 
 
 BARNABUS COLLINS, 
 
 OLIVER DIMON, 
 
 Sept. 27, 1836. 
 
CHAPTER VIL 
 
 HIS LAST RESIDENCE AT NEWARK, AND HIS DEATH. 
 
 Doctor Griffin reached Newark with his fami- 
 ly, for the last time, Oct. 1, 1836. It is scarcely 
 necessary to say that he was greeted with a most 
 cordial welcome by a large circle of friends, and 
 that he found himself in the midst of a community 
 who well knew how to appreciate his residence 
 among them, and many of whom it was his privi- 
 lege to reckon among the seals of his ministry. 
 Under date of Nov. 29, he writes thus in his diary. 
 
 Since I have been iiere the affection and respect of former 
 friends have been overwhehning. Several have united in 
 making me a handsome present. The trustees of the first 
 church have offered me a pew for my family. God has or- 
 dered all things in mercy. I have been sick for near two 
 months, — very sick, — but I now am somewhat better. I long 
 to do something for God and his church before I die. May 
 I live devoted to him, and walk in the light of his counte- 
 nance, and hold myself ready to depart at a moment's warning. 
 
212 LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 TO HIS NIECE, MISS JULIA ANN LORD, OF LYME. 
 
 Newark^ Jan. 19, 1837. 
 My Dear Julia Ann, 
 
 I received your very kind and gratifying letter of Dec. 
 16th, and thank you for all the delicate respect which it evin- 
 ces. My health has been so feeble that I have not felt able to 
 write to you before, and now must be somewhat brief. On 
 the 15th of December while walking on the floor, 1 suddenly 
 fell on the carpet like a corpse, and fainted clear away. I 
 have repeatedly had some of the same symptons since, but 
 have not fainted. For the last fortnight I have been better. 
 The attention which I receive from my old parishioners and 
 spiritual children is most affecting, and exceeds any thing 
 I ever received from a public body in my life. My friends 
 hope that God has sent me here to promote revivals of religion 
 in Newark. O that it may be so! And, my dear cousin, 
 how infinitely important that revivals of religion should pre- 
 vail in Lyme. What will Ijecome of some of your dear sis- 
 ters if this is not the case? After one has reached the age of 
 thirty, unconverted, the chances against him are perhaps forty 
 to one, and when he has reached the age of fifty, they are 
 probably fifty or sixty to one. And are there any in your fa- 
 mily who stand these many chances to one for eternal burn- 
 ings ? Surely no more time ought to be lost — not a single day 
 or hour. Every hour that is lost increases the danger, and 
 every hour that is spent in enmity against God involves guilt 
 that deserves eternal damnation. And then what a call there 
 is for our agonizing prayers ! A few christians with such 
 prayers, may bring down the Holy Spirit. Do read and pon- 
 der closely upon Luke xi. 1-13, — particularly the 13th verse. 
 O let your faith take hold of that assurance and it may bring 
 down the blessing. I remember you all in prayer several 
 times a da}^ 
 
 On sabbath evenings, Dr. Smith's family sing psalms, Avhile 
 he plays on a bass viol. It is the best means that I attend 
 during the week. Last sabbath evening he sung a verse 
 
NEWARK, AND HIS DEATH. 
 
 213 
 
 which dissolved me to tears, and affected me more than any 
 verse ever did, 1 believe. It was the following : 
 
 These eyes which once refused the light, 
 Now lift to God their watery sight, 
 
 And weep a silent flood : 
 These hands are raised in ceaseless prayer; 
 wash away the stains they wear. 
 
 In pure redeeming blood. 
 
 I am sorry to break off so soon, but my strength seems to 
 require it. With very tender regard, I am 
 
 Your affectionate uncle, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 Jan. 25th, 1837. 
 
 " Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 
 Let me hide myself in thee." 
 
 If Christ is the Rock of Ages, he is our firm foundation, 
 our sure defence, and the same from generation to generation. 
 "What is a better foundation than a rock? What is a better 
 bulwark than a rock cast around us ? And a rock of ages is 
 the same from age to age. I have been so affected by that 
 figure that I have examined to see whether I could find it in the 
 Bible. I cannot find it in our translation ; but in Isaiah, xxvi. 4. 
 I find it in the Hebrew : " Trust ye in the Lord forever, for in the 
 Lord Jehovah is the Rock of Ages." The atonement of Christ 
 is the solid foundation of our pardon, our sure defence against the 
 wrath of God, and is always exerted in his intercession as a 
 priest. The righteousness of his obedience is the foundation of 
 all our positive happiness in both worlds, is the sure protection of 
 all our interests, and this undeniable claim to a reward is un- 
 changeably urged in his intercession. Tiius he immutably 
 exerts his influence as an atoning, obedient, and interceding 
 High Priest, to obtain those reliefs and blessings from pure 
 Godhead, which, in the name of God, he administers as me- 
 diatorial King. And as King, he is the Rock of Ages. The 
 incarnate God who fills the throne of the universe, and dis- 
 penses all the pardons and blessings obtained from pure God- 
 
214 LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 head by the pleading of his atonement and obedience, is the 
 unchanging fonndation of all our reliefs, and hopes, aud com- 
 forts ; and the defence which, amidst all our changes and im- 
 perfections, gives us everlasting protection and safety. Thus 
 as both Priest and King he is the Rock of Ages. 
 
 March 3rd. Latterly I have been specially praying for faith 
 in Christ. I could see his love to us all as manifested on Cal- 
 vary ; I could see his mercy to me in the innumerable bless- 
 ings around me; but when I contemplated him in his relation 
 to me personally, I could not view him in any other light 
 than as a sin-hating Saviour, — the sins of my Ufe appeared so 
 enormous. But some Psalms and Hymns sung in the family 
 which by the blessed and peculiar influence of Psalms and 
 Hymns sung, that carry up the mind to Christ and fix it upon 
 him immediately, rather than upon God, and that raise us to 
 him as direct and unbounded love, have been mercifully ap- 
 pointed to overcome this difficulty. The words and the tune 
 have rung through my mind in the waking hours of riight, 
 and led me directly to the tender love of Christ. I saw that 
 I had too much confined my thoughts to God, and that I 
 ought to go directly to a Saviour's arms, and that I ought to 
 believe that, as abominable as my sins have been, if they 
 have once been pardoned, they form no partition between me 
 and the heart of Christ. He loves me as tenderly as though I 
 had never sinned, and in proportion to my faith is as ready to 
 hear my prayers. How was it at the time of the crucifixion ? 
 After the disciples had forsaken him and fled, and after Peter 
 had denied him with oaths and curses, when he came out of 
 the sepulchre he said to Mary, " Go and tell my brethren." 
 By his death the sins of believers are totally cancelled, and are 
 never imputed to them any more ; and altliough, while under 
 the means of grace they are chastened for remaining sin, as a 
 means of their sanctification, they are no more condemned for 
 their past sins than Peter and John are now condemned for 
 theirs. He loves them as well as he will love them in hea- 
 ven, — I say not their characters, but their persons. When 
 he turned and looked upon Peter, he loved his person none 
 
NEWARK, AND HIS DEATH. 
 
 215 
 
 the less for his oaths and curses. We ought to feel, if we have 
 evidence of our failh and pardon, that he loves our persons 
 none tlie less for our past sins. Of two things one : either he 
 loves us thus or we are under.condemnalion to hell. Which 
 is it? If we do not abandon our hope, we ought to believe 
 unhesitatingly in his direct, most tender, and unbounded love 
 to our persons,— that he stands ready to hear our prayers, and 
 with open arms to receive us to his bosom. This is faith in 
 Christ. This will bring a sense of his infinite love in the 
 work of redemption, of his infinite mercy in the management 
 of our lives, and will fill us with hope and peace, and grati- 
 tude and joy. 
 
 Since I have been in Newark, I have been distressed at the 
 low state of religion in the city, and have prayed much for a 
 revival here and through the country. I have visited many 
 famines, and talked with the unregenerate as faithfully as I 
 could. Others have been at prayer also. And, blessed be 
 God, the Holy Spirit has begun to descend, not only here but 
 in the country around, and in the neighboring cily. Forever 
 blessed be his name for this return to our American church 
 after several years of absence. Oh may he greatly enlarge 
 the power and make it to endure until the millenium. 
 
 March Sth. The obedience and death of Christ answer the 
 purpose of our sinless obedience or righteousness. " Christ is 
 the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believ- 
 eth." Rom. x. 4. " For he hath made him to be sin for us 
 who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness 
 of God in him." II. Cor. v. 21. "Therein is the righteous- 
 ness of God revealed from faith to faith ; as it is written, The 
 just shall live by faith." Romans i. 17. " The righteousness 
 of God without the law is manifested,— even the righteousness 
 of God which is by faith of Jesus Christ." Rom. iii. 21, 22. 
 " If by one man's offence death reigned by one, much more 
 they which receive abundance of grace, and of the gift of 
 righteousness, shall reign in life by one, Jesus Christ. There- 
 fore as bv the offence of one judgment came upon all men lo 
 condemnation, even so by the righteousness of one the free 
 
216 LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 gift came upon all men unto justification of life." Rom. v. 17, 
 18. " For what the law could not do in that it was weak 
 through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness 
 of sinful flesh and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh ; that 
 the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us who walk 
 not after the flesh, but after the spirit." Rom. viii. 3, 4. " Of 
 him are ye in Christ Jesus, who of God is made unto us wis- 
 dom and righteousness, and sanctification and redemption." 
 I. Cor. i. 30. 
 
 There must still be a qualification in us, uniting us to Christ; 
 but that qualification is no more works, but faith. " To him 
 that worketh not, but believeth on him that justifieth the un- 
 godly, his faith is counted for righteousness." Rom. iv. 5. 
 " Even as Abraham believed God, and it was accounted to 
 him for righteousness." Gal. iii. 6. 
 
 Although the offering of Christ cannot be applied to us be- 
 fore we sin, nor faster than we sin, (future sins being not par- 
 doned,) yet his one offering completely fills the space of our 
 sinless obedience or righteousness, so that our pardoned sins, 
 (all the past sins of believers,) are fully set aside as the ground 
 of condemnation, though not as occasions of chastisement for 
 our good. As grounds of condemnation they are as though 
 they never had been. We ought to hate them and abhor our- 
 selves on their account, but they form no bar to the love of 
 Christ or of God towards us, though they may be a bar to the 
 present manifestations of his love. " God commendeth his 
 love towards us, in that while we were yet sinners Christ died 
 for us. Much more then being now justified by his blood, we 
 shaU be saved from wrath through him. For if when we 
 were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his 
 Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his 
 hfe." Rom. v. 8-10. 
 
 This was the marked difference between the typical sacrifi- 
 ces, and the offering of Calvary. " For the law having a sha- 
 dow of good things to come, and not the very image of the 
 things, can never, with those sacrifices which they offered year 
 by year continually, make the comers thereunto perfect. For 
 
NEWARK, AND HIS DEATH. 217 
 
 then would they not have ceased to be ofTcred ? Because that 
 the worshippers, once purged, should have had no more con- 
 science of sins. But in those sacrifices there is a remembrance 
 again made of sins every year. For it is not possible that the 
 blood of bulls and of goats should take away sins. Then, 
 said I, Lo I come, to do thy will. — By the which will we are 
 sanctified through the ofiering of the body of Jesus Christ 
 once for all. For by one offering he hath perfected forever 
 them that are sanctified." Heb. x. 1-4, 7, 10, 14. 
 
 April 16^/i. Sabbath. I was led, by reading a chapter in 
 Baxter's Saint's Rest, to take up my printed form of self-exa- 
 mination, which I had not examined of late. And I was de- 
 lighted, and rather astonished, to find that my heart readily 
 responded to every question in the whole form. 1 see npt 
 therefore why I may not indulge the full assurance of hope. 
 Forever blessed be the Lord for this infinite benefit ; and O 
 may I devote my whole soul, for the rest of my life, to his ho- 
 nor and praise. 
 
 July Sth. I have read the form of self-examination every 
 day since the 16th of April, and can say " Yes," to almost or 
 quite every question, and have enjoyed something like the full 
 assurance of hope, I am determined to read it every day for 
 the rest of my life, unless prevented by sickness. 
 
 Last night after retiring to rest I was asking for some bless- 
 ing as the reward of Christ's obedience and in answer to his 
 intercession. It opened to me in a clearer light than ever be- 
 fore, that Christ was pleading for our happiness and consider- 
 ed himself rewarded by what made us happy. This gave 
 me a new and affecting view of his real and most tender love 
 to us. He considers our happiness as his reward, and seeks 
 for no higher reward than to see us blest. O the reality and 
 infinite tenderness of the love of Christ ! He not only desires 
 our happiness, but considers it, and the glory of God involved 
 in it, as the richest and only reward of his obedience '-'unto 
 death." O may the love of Christ be more real and affecting 
 to my soul than it ever was before ! Let mie by.no means con- 
 fine my views to his atonement, by which my sins were to be 
 Vol. L 28 
 
 '> 
 
218 LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 forgiven, but dwell upon his obedience, which procured all my 
 positive blessings, and upon the boundless love which regard- 
 ed them as his reward, and which constantly pleads for their 
 bestowment ! 
 
 August 7th. Mrs. Griffin was removed by death, after a 
 sickness by dysentery of twelve days, on Tuesday the 25th of 
 July, at half-past five o'clock, P. M. aged 67 years, 10 months 
 and 11 days; having been born Sept. 14th, 1769. Since the 
 funeral I have been so unwell as to be unable to enter this ac- 
 count before. On Monday morning I told her she would pro- 
 bably be in heaven before the next morning. She said she 
 felt composed, and put her trust in Christ. She told Dr. Smith 
 that she had in her mind no uncomfortable feelings. She 
 soon lost herself so far as to be able to add no more. She 
 died an easy death. In addition to an exemplary hfe, for se- 
 veral months she had exhibited pecuhar kindness and concern 
 for me and some fresh evidence of her sanctification. My 
 heart during all that time had gone forth in prayer for her, 
 that she might be fully prepared, and might die an easy and 
 triumphant death. The prayer was answered as to the out- 
 ward circumstances of her death ; and the strong desire I felt 
 for the other part, gives me new and very consoling evidence 
 that our loss is her eternal gain. The Spirit does not give 
 special desires in order to disappoint them. It is a stroke I 
 never felt before. I shall soon follow her. O may this so- 
 lemn dispensation be sanctified to me and to my children, and 
 may we all be supported under a stroke which the love of Je- 
 sus has inflicted. Her entrance into that blessed world makes 
 heaven appear like another apartment of my own house. 
 
 The following letter from Mrs. Smith to the 
 Compiler of this memoir, containing a minute ac- 
 count of her mother's last illness and death, cannot, 
 it is presumed, be unacceptable to the reader. 
 
NEWARK, AND HIS DEATH. 219 
 
 Neioark, August 9, 1837. 
 Rev. AND Dear Sir, 
 
 Your welcome and most gratifying letter to my dear 
 father was this morning received, and I hasten to convey to 
 you his thanks and that of his children for this new expres- 
 sion of kindness, and for your christian sympathy under our 
 sore bereavement. It is with melancholy pleasure that, in 
 compliance with your request, I review the scenes of sickness 
 and death ; but I bless God, it is with different emotions that 
 we are permitted, and at times enabled, to follow the spirit of 
 my sainted mother to one of those " many mansions" which 
 the Saviour had gone before to prepare. You, Sir, knew our 
 departed friend, and to you may I not say, to know was to 
 respect, to love. You knew her to be gentle, kind, humble, 
 refined ; but hoio gentle, how humble, how forbearing, how 
 guileless, how wholly divested of selfishness, you cannot know. 
 No, it is only the two who were nursed on her bosom, who 
 were led by her gentle hand, who were watched ever by her 
 tender eye, for whom she lived and for whom she would glad- 
 ly have died, — we only can know what we have lost. My 
 sister and I had neither before witnessed the sundering of the 
 immortal from the mortal part ; our first definite conceptions 
 of the work of Death were formed while watching his rava- 
 ges upon that delicate frame. And though, as we are assur- 
 ed by all who were present, he dealt his gentlest blows, and 
 we were enabled to feel that Infinite Love regulated every 
 movement, yet the work was awful, it Avassure, — it took from 
 us a mother. 
 
 But I will no longer speak of ourselves ; it is almost the 
 first time I have been tempted to do so. It is the conviction 
 that you. Sir, are peculiarly fitted to share the afflictions of the 
 mourner, that has. led me thus freely to open the recesses of a 
 bleeding heart. But while I now attempt to fulfil the pur- 
 pose for which I seated myself, you will see that the same 
 Hand which placed in ours the cup of sorrow mingled with it 
 so much sweetness that we almost at the time forgot its bitter- 
 ness. 
 
220 LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 You are aware, Sir, that my beloved mother suffered for 
 many years from the frequent and periodical recurrence of sick 
 head ache. I well remember your mingling your sympathies 
 upon this point, daring your late visit, and her referring to the 
 similarity in your cases since. Since my dear mother's resi- 
 dence with us, longer intervals had passed between her head 
 aches than ever before since my remembrance, and I had fond- 
 ly hoped she was preparing for many years of comfortable 
 health. But I now remember that when I congratulated my- 
 self and her on her freedom from head ache, she did not seem 
 to enter into my joyful anticipations. She did not say any 
 thing to check them, for she loved to see us happy, but I now 
 doubt not she felt the increasing infirmities of a broken con- 
 stitution, perhaps the hidden vi^orkings of a fatal disease which 
 forbade her to look for health, save in that world where sick- 
 ness cannot come. She had a cough for more than five years 
 which distressed her friends, but which she never acknowledged 
 as causing her any pain. This cough disappeared from the 
 commencement of her last illness. Since the commencement 
 of warm weather my parents had both improved in health. 
 My father had preached seven sabbaths in succession before 
 my mother's death. Four times she heard him with delighted 
 interest. On the 9th of July she attended church all day, 
 and afterwards walked through the burying-ground, where 18 
 days after she was laid, and where she did not remember to 
 have walked before since her removal to Boston. But I lin- 
 ger from the closing scene, as if unrecorded it would become 
 untrue. On the night of the 13th of July my dear mother 
 was attacked with dysentery. In the morning she told me 
 her system was disordered, and I procured for her such sim- 
 ple remedies as her case seemed to require. She had been so 
 inured to suffering, and had learned to suffer so patiently, that 
 I think she was not aware of the nature or severity of her dis- 
 ease. It was not before the sabbath that we became aware of 
 it. From that time my husband became anxious, and every 
 thing that affection and human skill could do, w^as, I believe, 
 done. The disease seemed checked in its violence from that 
 
NEWARK, AND HIS DEATH. 221 
 
 time till the day previous to her death ; but her strength was 
 wasted by an internal fever, which was indicated, not so much 
 by the pulse and skin, as by a constant thirst, which demand- 
 ed cold water and ice, and which even these did not allay. 
 Her reason, her calmness, her patience, her kindness, never 
 for a moment forsook her, and Ellen and I watched over her, 
 with sympathy indeed, but with little apprehension of the re- 
 sult. " What ardently we wished we still believed," and we 
 looked for that on the morrow which each day failed to bring, 
 an entire removal of the disease. It was not till the Saturday 
 evening previous to her death that my husband's faithfulness 
 forced us to look upon her recovery as doubtful. She was then 
 ver}^ feeble, and we found it necessary to ap[)ly both external 
 and internal restoratives, which soon brought warmth and 
 comparative vigor to her system. From about eight to twelve 
 we were occupied in this way, during which time 1 frequently 
 asked her if she was in pain ; to which she calmly answered 
 " some.'' About twelve she suddenly became entirely relieved, 
 and continued so through the night. Every time I laid my 
 hand on hers she would open her eyes and repeat in her sweet- 
 est tone, " quite easy." The sudden change made me anxious, 
 and I went to my husband repeatedly through the night to in- 
 quire whether there was cause for alarm. But as her system 
 seemed more vigorous in its actings than the evening previous, 
 he ventured to hope she was better. About daylight my mo- 
 ther inquired of me what the Doctor thought of the sudden 
 change. I told her he hoped she was better. Said she, " I 
 never felt as I did last night." " How, mother?" " Those 
 dying pains^' she twice repeated; and yet through the whole 
 she had only acknowledged in answer to my repeated incjui- 
 ries that she sull'ered ^-someJ' She continued more comforta- 
 ble through the sabbath ; and when my husband retired that 
 night he pronounced her better, and expressed a hope that she 
 would have a comfortable night. But when I went into her 
 room at one o'clock Monday morning, I found her restless, and 
 suffering with thirst. I remained with her through the night. 
 Early in the morning my husband found her feverish and her 
 
222 LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 disease more alarming in its progress. From that time he was 
 almost without hope, and immediately communicated his fears 
 to his beloved patient. "Mother," said he, '-'you are very ill." 
 " I know it," she calmly answered. " And 1 have serious 
 fears," he added, " that you will never be any better. What 
 are your feelings in view of death?" "//mve no iincoQnfor- 
 table feelings,^'' was her reply. " Are you willing to trust 
 yourself with the Saviour for life or death ?" " Yes." Ellen 
 then asked her if she had thought much of death during her 
 sickness. She answered, " I don't know that I have thought 
 more of it than I did when 1 was well." She had slept much 
 and conversed but little since her illness, but when awake usu- 
 ally lay with her hands clasped as if in prayer. After break- 
 fast my father came into the room, and, struck with the great 
 change in her countenance, he thought her actually dying. 
 Feeling there was no time to be lost, he at once exclaimed, 
 " My dear, I think before to-morrow morning you will be in 
 Heaven!" This sudden announcement, following so soon 
 upon the first intimation of her danger, might have been ex- 
 pected to have produced at least a momentary excitement. I 
 was bending over hei', where I should have seen if a breath 
 was quickened, or a nerve was moved ; but with unruffled 
 composure, closing her eyes, she twice repeated, "I hope so.'' 
 My father said, " I want you to look to Christ." After a mo- 
 ment's silent meditation, she gently repeated, " Great sinner, 
 great sinner, great Saviour." She then expressed her wishes 
 as to the disposal of her letters, clothing, &c. — sent messages 
 of love to all her friends, &c. My father said, " My dear, I 
 don't want you to be thinking of these trifles. I want you to 
 be looking to Christ," " That is just the reason," she replied, 
 " I want to have my mind at rest." I said, " You are not 
 afraid to die." " No." " We do not want to part with you." 
 " I do not," she sweetly answered. " I hope we shall follow 
 you to heaven." " I hope so ;" and placing her hand gently 
 on my father's arm, added, "//f will he but a little lohileP 
 My father asked, " Before we meet in heaven ?" " Yes." 
 She had that morning seen every member of the family, and 
 
NEWARK, AND HIS DEATH. 223 
 
 kissed her grand-children. One of tliem coming in the second 
 time I called her attention to it. She answered, " I have seen 
 them all." In less than an hour from this time she sunk into 
 a state of insensibility, from which she roused not again, ex- 
 cept to ask for air and drink. Her intercourse with mortals 
 was ended, but not before she had said all that she wished and 
 all that we could desire. At two o'clock on Tuesday morning 
 my father was called up to see her die. He said to her, " My 
 dear, we think you are dying, and I am going to pray with 
 you."' She immediately folded her hands across her breast, 
 (no longer able to clasp them,) and fixed her glazed eyes upon 
 him for a moment, but before he closed she sunk again into 
 insensibility. She thus alternated between life and death till 
 some time in the afternoon of Tuesday, when suddenly her 
 countenance assumed the fixedness of death. Her respiration 
 became harder and harder, then shorter and shorter, then sud- 
 denly ceased. She gasped, then stretched herself as an infant 
 awaking from sleep, gasped twice, stretched herself again — 
 and again — The spirit had fled !* 
 
 There was a heavenly sweetness about her countenance af- 
 ter death. Perfect peace was wnitten there. She was laid 
 unchanged in the grave on Thursday, 27th, 
 
 We selected the 3d hymn, Book II. to be sung at her fune- 
 ral. Mr. Eddy chose the very text I had selected : " Precious 
 in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." Doctor 
 Hilly er of Orange, the only early friend of my parents in the 
 ministry left in this region, olTered the prayer. 
 
 The chamber of death and the house of mourning were 
 filled with long tried christian friends, who had welcomed her 
 return, and who were anxious to pay the last tribute of respect. 
 
 I have already mentioned that my father's health had been 
 improved of late. He sustained this trial as a christian, most 
 of the time calm, never overwhelmed. But the "outward 
 man"' quailed under the stroke, and for several days after the 
 funeral he was very feeble ; his difiiculty of breathing returned, 
 
 • She died at half past .') o'clock, Tuesday, July 25. 
 
224 LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 and he felt as if he was soon to follow his sainted wife. " And 
 Oh how she will welcome me," he would exclaim with tears. 
 He is now much better, and is going to attempt supplying 
 Mr. Eddy's pulpit for the next five sabbaths. He spoke at the 
 communion table last sabbath, and referred most aifectingly 
 to the " amazing realities which had broken upon the view of 
 those who had lately gone from our bosom to the bosom of the 
 Saviour." 
 
 My father wishes me to present him to you most affection- 
 ately, and we all unite in our gratitude for your prayers and 
 sympathy. 
 
 Believe me. Dear Sir, 
 
 With respectful regard, yours, 
 
 F. L. SMITH. 
 
 August l^th. I have been blest this morning with clearer 
 views than I ever had before. I certainly delight in God's 
 glory and happiness more than in any thing else, and I do 
 not wish for a personal happiness distinct from that delight. 
 I do love to lie at his feet and to look up from the dust and see 
 him on the throne, I desire above all things to see him 
 known and honored as God. It is because he is in heaven 
 that I wish to be there. I rejoice to know that he is his own 
 reward, — all that reward to himself that he ever expected or 
 desired. I long to be holy because it is right and agreeable to 
 his will, and not primarily for^ the sake of the reward. The 
 happiness I seek is derived from the happiness and glory of 
 God. I feel that my sins against his authority and happiness 
 and glory, are unspeakably vile, and do deserve more misery 
 than I can measure, and my judgment tells me, eternal mi- 
 sery. I love to repent. It is a luxury to lie low at his feet 
 and mourn for sin. Christ is precious to my soul, the chief 
 among ten thousands and altogether lovely. That God 
 should have regenerated me, according to an eternal decree 
 of election, making all the difference in my favor between an 
 eternal hell and an eternal heaven, lays me under boundless, 
 boundless, boundless obligations. My most earnest desire and 
 
NEWARK, AND HIS DEATH. 225 
 
 prayer is, that I may spend my life in his service and in hea- 
 venly devotion. 
 
 My practice founded on the rule to pray without ceasing- 
 and in every thing to give thanks, has opened God to my view, 
 somewhat, I think, as he will be seen in heaven, — and it 
 would be so fully if the rule was fully observed. It has esta- 
 blished a habit of gratitude more constant and tender than I 
 ever experienced before. 
 
 Mrs. Griffin's death has certainly been sanctified to me, and 
 has rendered heaven more familiar, and real and dear. And 
 as God had cvidendy prepared me for that event, I know not 
 but his present dealings are intended to prepare me to follow 
 her soon. I should be glad to live to carry my MSS. through 
 the press, and for a little while longer to promote revivals of 
 religion by preaching. I have no wish to live for any other 
 reason ; and I am willing that God should defeat these pur- 
 poses by my removal, if he sees fit. 
 
 Aiigiist 20ih. I certainly do love God with great tender- 
 ness. My heart is dissolved in gratitude to him for his amaz- 
 ing and distinguishing love. That he is infinitely and eter- 
 nally happy, and that he will be known and honored and glo- 
 rified as God, are the two sweetest thoughts that ever enter 
 my mind. I think I love him better than myself It has 
 been a question whether to see him known and honored as 
 God, was my supreme desire, or whether a wish for my own 
 happiness was stronger. But I am convinced that the happi- 
 ness I wish for, instead of being superior or opposed to his 
 glory, consists in it. The delight of seeing him known and 
 honored, is the very heaven I desire. I certainly long to be 
 holy because it is right and agreeable to the will of God, an- 
 tecedent to all considerations of reward. 
 
 August 2'Uh. Do I love God better than myself? My 
 happiness consists in the happiness and glory of God, and in 
 his will's being done. I do not, therefore, habitually set up my 
 own will or happiness against him, and of course do not love 
 myself better than God, but God better than myself. It is my 
 supreme desire to see him known and honored as God, for I 
 
 Vol. I. 29 
 
S26 LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 place my highest happiness in that ; and therefore do not set 
 my own happiness above his honor and glory. 
 
 TO THE REV. DR. TUCKER. 
 
 Newark^ N. J. August 29th, 1837. 
 My very Dear Brother, 
 
 Your kind favor, by Mr. Stafford, of the 22d inst. was 
 duly received. I thank you very much for your sympathy, 
 and thank dear Mrs. Tucker for her participation of our sor- 
 row, and also your beloved children for their kind and tender 
 feelings. You say, " we shall now have another subject of 
 prayer." I thank you, my dear brother, and hope I shall in- 
 deed have an interest in your petitions. I value it much. I 
 probably have been already benefited by your prayers. 1 think 
 I have enjoyed the love of God and of Christ since the death 
 of Mrs. Griffin more than I ever did before. God had been 
 preparing both her mind and my own for the solemn event for 
 eight months beforehand, and she died an easy death, with 
 great tranquillity, without any uncomfortable feelings of mind, 
 with composure and trust in the dear Redeemer. I would not 
 call her back for ten thousand worlds. 
 
 " Thou art gone to the grave ; but we will not deplore thee, 
 Though sorrow and darkness encompass the tomb ; 
 
 The Saviour hath passed through its portals before thee, 
 And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom." 
 
 For a million of worlds I would not change the counsel of 
 the Most High. The glory of God and the happiness of God 
 are certainly the two objects dearest to my heart, in which I 
 most rejoice, and in which I place my highest happiness. Let 
 him do with me as seemeth good in his sight. It is a most 
 overcoming thought that Christ, after all his obedient labors, 
 asks for no reward, — desires no reward, — but what consists 
 in blessings on us, together with the glory of God and the good 
 of the universe therein involved. O the amazing love of Christ 
 portrayed in that glorious truth ! I never saw his love so af- 
 fecting in any other light. 
 
 My health was affected by the event for more than a week, 
 
NEWARK, AND HIS DEATH. 227 
 
 but I have so far recovered as to be able to preach. 1 hope 
 ere long to renew the work of transcribing my MSS. about 
 which I know you feel a deep interest. I wish to live long 
 enough to carry thein through the press, and to promote levi- 
 vals of religion by preaching the kingdom of Christ, and by any 
 other means in my power. These are the only two objects 
 for which I wish to live. I perceive by your letter, and your 
 kind request for me to write, that these several statements 
 would not be ungratifying to you. With sincere love to Mrs. 
 Tucker, and the dear children, I am, my beloved brother, 
 Very affectionately yours, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 Sept. \st. Do I long to be delivered from sin more than 
 from any other evil 1 Sin is against the blessed God, against 
 his rightful authority, against his glory, against his happiness 
 because against the happiness of his kingdom, and against 
 the life of Christ. In this view of sin, as against that glory 
 and happiness which are the dearest to my heart, I think I 
 do wish to be delivered from it more than from any other evil. 
 
 TO THE COMPILER OF THIS MEMOIR. 
 
 Newark, N. J. Sept. 21, 1837. 
 My Beloved Brother, 
 
 I received to-day the Argus, containing the distressing 
 
 news of the death of our dear Mrs. S , and an obituary 
 
 notice. Though sick, I cannot delay the expression of my 
 heartfelt grief, and my tenderest sympathy. I know your 
 sorrows, and can enter into them with the deepest interest. 
 From the moment I heard of the event I have been piaying 
 for you and your dear children. May God support and com- 
 fort you and take care of them. Our whole family feel deep- 
 ly for you. Even the children enter into it as an event very 
 interesting to them, in consequence of 3^our visit here and your 
 sympathizing letter to me. Our dear wives are now^ together, 
 and it will be but a few days and we, I trust, shall be with 
 them. Mean time heaven must be nearer and dearer to us 
 for their being in it. God has done it, and it is right. From 
 
22S LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 his great kindness to me, I trust the more that he will enable 
 you to rejoice in him more than ever ckiring this afflictive sea- 
 son. Ever since the commencement of my iUness, more than 
 three years ago, he has been pouring in truth in a new and 
 affecting hght. For the last six or eight months it has been 
 more so. But since the death of Mrs, Griffin it has been so 
 more than ever, so that I have sometimes apprehended he was 
 preparing me to follow her soon. The two sweetest objects to 
 me in the universe, and those in which my happiness chiefly 
 consists, are the glory and the happiness of God. That he 
 is infinite in his benevolence and wisdom, is a thought that 
 renders the universe rich beyond expression. A few weeks 
 ago, in asking for something as the reward of Christ, it open- 
 ed upon me, that he neither asks nor desires any reward, since 
 he has taken his throne and government, but what consists 
 in blessings on us, (together with the glory of God and the 
 good of the universe therein involved.) In blessings on this 
 Christ crucifying world ! Never did the love of Christ open 
 upon me so before. I resolved to carry that thought with me 
 to my grave, and I love to impart it to my dear friends. O 
 such a God and Saviour ! What may they not do to us ? If 
 infinite benevolence and wisdom and mercy and faithfulness, 
 have the management of all our affairs to the smallest parti- 
 cular, what need we fear ? What occasion have we to be agi- 
 tated? Gabriel and Paul see the universe blest in containing 
 such a God, and that constitutes their heaven. The same 
 heaven shall be ours to-day, if we will enter fully into the love 
 and contemplation of that glorious God. Let him take our 
 wives and our children, — let him take all that we have, — only 
 leave himself^ — and Paul and Gabriel cannot be richer. O 
 my dear brother, it does my heart good to know how rich you 
 are, in your deserted house and in your lonely chamber. 
 Take hold of those riches in both your arms, and rise up 
 above every anguish, and rejoice with joy unspeakable and 
 full of glory. 
 
 Doctor Smith and my two daughters unite with me in ten- 
 der love and sympathy. Give my tender love to your dear 
 
NEWARK, AND HIS DEATH. 229 
 
 children, and kiss them all for me. They have a mother still, 
 and she is where I hope and pray they all may be. 
 
 With the most tender sympathy in your present afflictions, 
 I am, my dear brother, most aflectionately yours, 
 
 E. D. GRIFFIN. 
 
 Sept. 2Sth. My former complaint has returned upon me 
 and threatens to carry me off. I am willing that God should 
 do as it seemeth good in his sight. My disease (thought to 
 be dropsy in the chest) prevents me from lying all night in 
 bed. The idea of sitting up the most of the night was dread- 
 ful. But last night it was so delightful to think that infinite 
 wisdom and love would order the whole, that I felt no appre- 
 hension. The consequence was, that though I had to get up 
 at a quarter after ten, I had a comfortable night and slept well 
 in my chair. Blessed be the Lord. 
 
 Oct. 1st. Sabbath. I have done lying in bed, and sit upon 
 my chair all night and all day. The other day, Dr. Smith, 
 in answer to my inquiry, told me it was not likely that I should 
 live till spring; and was very doubtful whether I should live 
 till January. The idea was delightful. I have looked for- 
 ward to death by dropsy in the chest as very dreadful ; but it 
 no longer appears so. A sense that infinite wisdom and love 
 will order every thing for me, leaves no anxiety about any 
 thing. It was very fatiguing to sit up nights, and I dreaded 
 it much. But that consideration of infinite wisdom and love, 
 removed in a minute all that anxiety some days ago, and it 
 has not returned for a moment since. It seems to be about as 
 pleasant to sit up as it formerly did to lie in bed. This men- 
 tal feeling has been aided by some merciful provisions which 
 render it easier to sit in my chair. 
 
 I have been deeply affected of late by these most merciful 
 and faithful provisions for a poor wretched sinner, so needful 
 for an old man going down into the grave after his beloved 
 wife. Not one anxious thought is left me from day to day 
 about the event or the manner. I am taken up in thanking 
 the blessed God for his wonderful mercy and faithfulness in 
 
230 LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 thus dealing with me. That he should select this time to do 
 for me what he never did before, to remove every concern and 
 to fill me with peace, — to make that most solemn event, and 
 all the dreaded means, no longer dreadful, but delightful,— is 
 proof of mercy and faithfulness beyond the power of language 
 to express. '• Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that is with- 
 in me, bless his holy name." 
 
 Oct. 8th. Sahhath. Dr. Smith told me this morning that, 
 if the swelling continued to increase as it had done for a fort- 
 night past, I should not probably live the month out. The 
 idea was delightful, and awakened tears of gratitude. O the 
 wonderful mercy and faithfulness of God ! 
 
 Oct. lAth. 1 have been very sick and nervous during the 
 last week ; slept but little and had very uncomfortable nights, 
 with a dread of the pressure for breath, which was between 
 me and death. Yesterday afternoon I saw that God would 
 appoint all these things. The thought relieved and comforted 
 me at once, and brought submission and trust. And that sub- 
 mission and trust were followed by such a night as I have not 
 had for a considerable time. Though I had not exercised 
 .any, on account of the rain, I had altogether the most com- 
 fortable rest that I have had since I ceased to lie down. The 
 weather had changed to cold to favor such a result. O the 
 mercies and the faithful providence of God ! His interpositions 
 are constant and manifest, and full of mercy and faithfulness. 
 
 The preceding paragraph concludes his diary; 
 for though his death did not occur till the 8th of 
 November, the rapid progress of his disease ren- 
 dered him incapable of the effort of writing. His 
 funeral sermon was preached by the Rev. Doctor 
 Spring of New-York ; and shortly after, another 
 discourse, occasioned by his death, was delivered 
 at Williamstown, by the Rev. Dr. Hopkins, Presi- 
 dent of Williams College ; both of which have 
 since been published. 
 
NEWARK, AND HIS DEATH. 231 
 
 The following letter from Mrs. Smith to a friend 
 in Boston, embodies the most important particulars 
 of her father's last illness and death. 
 
 Newark, Dec. 11, 1837. 
 My very Dear Mrs. K. 
 
 Your truly affectionate letter was not the less welcome, 
 
 for being one of many with which we have been favored ; all 
 
 bearing the kindest expressions of sympathy for us, and of 
 
 veneration and love toward our dear departed parents. We 
 
 ought truly to adopt the language of our bereaved father : — 
 
 "The' tender sympathy of our friends here and abroad, has 
 
 been unbounded, and the love of our Father and Saviour has 
 
 been most supporting." We can truly make the sentiment of 
 
 the beloved Cowper our own : 
 
 " My boast is not that I deduce my birth 
 From loins enthron'd, and rulers of the earth j 
 But higher far my proud pretensions rise — 
 The child of parents passed into the skies." 
 
 You could not have imposed upon me a more delightful 
 task than that of reviewing the never-to-be-forgotten scenes of 
 my dear father's sickness and death. Oh, my friend, if you 
 have ever stood " quite on the verge of heaven," you have 
 been where I stood for two months ; each day ministering to 
 one who seemed just ready to take his upward flight ; each 
 day listening, perhaps for the last time, to the heavenly words 
 that fell from the lips of my only remaining parent. 
 
 My cousin W. no doubt told you of the " quiet spirit" of the 
 aged, feeble, afflicted saint, called so unexpectedly to part with 
 her, whose aflectionate sympathy had cheered his pilgrimage 
 for more than forty yeais, and which he had hoped would 
 bless him to the end. Yes, the "angel of the covenant" sup- 
 ported him as he passed through these deep waters. He lean- 
 ed upon the everlasting arm, and it failed him not. He had 
 prayed fervently that my dear mother's departure might be 
 easy and triumphant; and when he saw this desire so fully 
 accomplished, his whole soul went forth in gratitude on her 
 
232 LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 behalf. But this event broke his hold on life. He murmured 
 not, but the outbreakings of his widowed heart were most af- 
 fecting. He committed to memory those beautiful lines of 
 Heber, " Thou art gone to the grave," and often while sitting 
 at the table they would seem to rush upon his recollection, and 
 he would repeat them in his own affecting manner with many 
 tears. 
 
 You remember his love for sacred music, connected with 
 sacred song. This never forsook him. From the day that he 
 came into our family, it was our custom to devote sabbath eve- 
 nings to songs of praise, in which his grand-children were the 
 principal performers. These seasons were always welcomed 
 by my dear father, for whom a chair was placed in the 
 midst of the little group, with whose infant voices his own 
 and that of my dear mother would sometimes unite. He 
 often spoke of these seasons as among his most precious means 
 of grace. He copied in a book all the pieces that they sung, 
 making additions from time to time, till within a few weeks of 
 his death. The last lines which he inserted were these — 
 "And to eternity love and adore." The hymn commences 
 thus: ''Come, thou Almighty King." From the commence- 
 ment of his last illness, it was his custom to spend every eve- 
 ning in the parlor, where he sat with his little book before 
 him, selecting hymns for his darling Malvina to play and sing. 
 And only the day before his death, when, to use his own ex- 
 pression, " the agonies of death had come upon him," he was 
 led into the parlor, that he might once more listen to the praises 
 of earth, before he went to join in the anthems of heaven. It 
 will ever be among Malvina's most hallowed recollections, that 
 she was thus permitted to smooth the passage of this man of 
 God, this endeared parent, to heaven. Oh, shall he listen in 
 vain amidst a choir above for one of those voices which he so 
 much loved to hear? * * * * 
 
 * * * * My father continued to preach from church to 
 church every sabbath till my mother's death, till he had pro- 
 claimed his last message in seven of our churches and in two 
 of our neighboring villages. In August he was invited to sup- 
 
NEWARK, AND HIS DEATH 233 
 
 ply the pulpit of the first church during the absence of our 
 pastor. In compliance with this request, he gathered up his 
 strength to perform this last service for the beloved church over 
 which he had watched for nearly eight years previous to his 
 residence in Boston. He preached seven sermons in four sab- 
 baths : and after this delivered his last sermon in the pulpit of 
 the Rev. J. H. Jones at New-Brunswick, a nephew of my 
 mother. This was on the 10th of September, His text was 
 Jeremiah, xxxi. 31-34. The subject, Salvation taken into 
 God's own hands. He thus fulfilled all his appointments, ex- 
 cept at Elizabethtown, where he had engaged to preach for 
 both Presbyterian clergymen, one of whom — Rev. N. Murray, 
 was his former pupil. 
 
 On the 13th of Sept. the American Board met here. On 
 the same day my father was taken suddenly ill, and was not 
 able to attend any of the meetings except the last, on the 13th, 
 when he made his last public speech and prayer. He attended 
 church for the last time on the next sabbath, and heard his 
 early friends, Drs. Richards and Humphrey preach. About 
 this time a dropsical effusion took place, which progressed so 
 rapidly, that from Thursday of the same week he never at- 
 tempted to lie down again. He said to me that night, " I ne- 
 ver expect to he down again, till I lie by your mother's side." 
 
 Previous to my mother's death, he had attained to the "full 
 assurance of hope," and this event, making heaven, as he 
 said, •' seem like another apartment in his own house," severed 
 his strongest tie to earth, and bound his thoughts and affec- 
 tions more firmly to heaven. From the first appearance of 
 dropsy he gave up all thought of being relieved, and was ena- 
 bled to look without a fear into that eternity which was just 
 at hand. But the wearisome days and nights which seemed 
 appointed to him, and the dreadful closing scene — from these 
 nature shrunk. Even this was but a passing cloud, Tlie 
 thought that infinite wisdom and love would order every cir- 
 cumstance, soon dispelled it forever. After this he was often 
 heard to say, " God has made it about as pleasant to sit up as 
 it formerly was to lie down," 
 
 Vol. I. 30 
 
234 LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 There was indeed nothing of gloom about the chamber of 
 death, but it was a solemn place ; one which could not but 
 strengthen the faith of the feeblest saint, and which might 
 well have shaken the confidence of the boldest infidel. The 
 beloved patient, not content with his own sure prospect of eter- 
 nal hfe. was constant in his intercessions for a ruined world. 
 There were more than forty individuals among his impenitent 
 friends whom he bore on his heart before the Mercy Seat ma- 
 ny times each day. And as he had opportunity, he failed not 
 to warn every one of them with tears. 
 
 There was a "joy unspeakable and full of glory" which 
 seemed to fill his soul. There was that peace of which the 
 Saviour spoke when he said, " My peace I give unto you." 
 There was indeed a majesty in the calmness, the faith, the 
 love, the submission, the gratitude of this dying saint, which 
 words cannot describe. And yet there was no mere animal 
 excitement. To a friend, who asked him what his views of 
 heaven were, he replied, "My mind is too weak for lively 
 views. I know heaven must be a blessed place. God is there. 
 Christ is there." This view seemed to satisfy him. To my 
 mind there was something more delightful in the filial confi- 
 dence with which he committed himself to his Heavenly Fa- 
 ther, than in those enlarged and exciting views which might 
 have been expected from such a man as he. 
 
 His humility was aflTecting. The touch of death disturbed 
 not the tranquility of his features; but it was disturbed by the 
 remark of a friend, to whom, after bearing testimony to the 
 kindness of his Heavenly Father, he had said, "And you 
 may expect that he will do the same for you when you come 
 to die." She replied, " If I am only as faithful as you." For 
 a moment he was silent, and then with deep feeling he rejoined, 
 " Don't say that again, sister: it is not because I am good, but 
 because Christ has died." 
 
 His gratitude was constant. After adverting to some sim- 
 ple provisions for his comfort, he added, " Your love to your 
 sick and dying infant is hatred, compared with the love of my 
 Heavenly Father towards me." 
 
NEAVARK, AND HIS DEATH. 235 
 
 His eubmission was truly filial. After stating to a friend 
 that he never expected to lie down again, till he was laid down 
 for the grave, he sweetly added, '-And I am willing to sit 
 here, just as you see me now, for twenty years, if it is God's 
 will." 
 
 His love to the Saviour kindled into a brighter, purer flame 
 as he traversed the ascent of Pisgah. To a nephew, who vi- 
 sited him in August, he remarked, " Never did 1 have such 
 views of the Saviour as I have had for the last two months ;■ — 
 never before such as I have had for the last week." 
 
 He received every intimation of the rapid progress of his 
 disease with expressions, and often with tears, of gratitude. 
 It was not impatience to be released from suffering ; for He to 
 whom with fiUal confidence he had committed himself, carried 
 him so gently down, that he never spoke of pain, except for a 
 short time on the day previous to his death (Tuesday.) He 
 then said, "You talk of dying agonies; they have come upon 
 me." Being asked if he could describe them, he answered, 
 with his hand upon his breast, " Something here that will not 
 let me sleep or breathe hardly." It was in this emergency 
 that he sought the sweet influence of music. While he sat 
 by the piano, one of his brethren in the ministry came in. 
 My father, extending his hand to him as he entered, said, 
 "You see me just going home." His friend said, " It has of- 
 ten been your privilege to administer consolation to the dying: 
 I trust you exj^erience all those consolations you have offered 
 to others." Raising his voice in the most emphatic mannerj 
 he repeated, "More, — more, — much more." 
 
 On the sabbath previous to his death, new symptoms ap- 
 pearing, he was told that his disease was approaching a crisis; 
 and subsequently, that it might form one in twenty-four hours. 
 On Monday, a long-tried friend who called, said to him, 
 " Your journey is almost over." " Blessed be God," said he, 
 — " twelve hours." 
 
 To his grand-children and the domestics he gave his part- 
 ing charge to meet him in heaven. 
 
236 LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 To Malvina he said, '• I want you to examine yourself a 
 great deal before you venture to hope." 
 
 To Edward and Lyndon, " You must give your heart to 
 the Saviour. Don't put it off another hour." 
 
 To Frances, " Be a good girl, and give your heart to the 
 Saviour while you are young." 
 
 On Tuesday morning, Nov. 7th, we were called up to see 
 him die. He was, as usual, panting for breath. My husband 
 asked him if he suffered any pain. " None," said he, and 
 then broke out in the following expressions, interrupted, scarce- 
 ly audible, but most impressive. "My Heavenly Father, — 
 my dear Redeemer, — wonderful in mercy and faithfulness ! 
 I pray you to give him glory forever and ever." Being asked 
 if he still continued to dread the dying struggle, " No," said 
 he ; " I leave it all with God ; I refer it all to his will." 
 
 In the afternoon his brother inquired if his mind was still 
 unclouded. " Without a doubt," was his prompt and empha- 
 tic reply. After bathing his feet, he cheerfully said, " 1 never 
 expect to bathe my feet again. My soul I hope to wash in 
 the blood of the Lamb." He bade his brother, who was 
 obliged to leave him, a cheerful and affectionate farewell. He 
 gave his parting blessing to all who called to see him, and 
 failed not to send messages of love to the absent members of 
 their families. 
 
 Early in the evening, a beloved friend, a sister of my hus- 
 band, was introduced to him. " I do not recollect my friends 
 now," said he. " You remember the dear Saviour who is by 
 you ?" sire asked. " Oh yes," emphatically ; " he never so 
 manifested his preciousness to me before." After his grand- 
 children, excepting Malvina, had left the room for the night, 
 having received as usual the parting kiss, Sarah repeated to 
 him several of his favorite hymns, at the close of each of which 
 he exclaimed, "precious, — very precious." These were among 
 his last recollections of earth. While we stood around him, he 
 fell into a gentle sleep ; and five minutes before four o'clock 
 on Wednesday morning, Nov. 8th, ceased to breathe, without 
 a struggle or a groan. His age was sixty-seven years, ten 
 
NEWARK, AMD HIS DEATH. 237 
 
 months, two days ; nine days younger than my beloved mo- 
 ther. He served the Lord Jesus Christ in the gospel ministry, 
 forty-five years. 
 
 Every expression of veneration and love has been paid (o 
 the memory of this man of God. His funeral was attended 
 in the first Presbyterian church, where hundreds pressed to 
 take a last look, and to read the inscription placed upon his 
 breast: " Remember the words which I spake unto you while 
 I was yet present with you." Most of the clergymen in this 
 city preached with reference to his death. One of them al- 
 luding to the providence which bro'jght him back to New- 
 ark, beautifully remarked : " It was fitting that he who came 
 in his youth to teach us how to live, should come, when his 
 head was gray, to show us how to die. It was fitting that he 
 should lie side by side till the resurrection morn, with them to 
 whom he had preached Christ ' the resurrection and the 
 fife.' " 
 
 "Devout men" bore both my parents to the grave; where 
 they lie side by side, on the very spot purchased by my father 
 for a burial-place before his removal to Boston. The following 
 inscriptions mark the spot : 
 
 SACRED . *SACRED 
 
 to the memory of to the memory of 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Mrs. FRANCES GRIFFIN, 
 
 EDWARD DORR GRIFFIN, Wife of the 
 
 who departed this life Rev. Dr. Edward D. Griffin, 
 
 in the hope who departed this life 
 
 of a glorious immortality, in the hope 
 
 Nov. 8th, IS37, of a glorious immortality, 
 
 in the 6Sth year July 25th, 1837, 
 
 of his age. in the 68th year 
 
 They that turn many to righteous- of her age. 
 
 ness shall shine as the stars for- In her tongue was the law of kind- 
 ever and ever. ne.ss. 
 
 On such the second death hath no 
 power. 
 Oh death where is thy sting! 
 oil grave where is thy victory 
 
 * This was written by my father. 
 
238 LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 The disease which in its accumulated ravages wasted my 
 father's strength, and laid him in the grave, was of more 
 than four years continuance. It apparently commenced in a 
 slight attack of paralysis, affecting his left side, in the spring 
 of '33. It resulted, as ascertained by a post mortem exami- 
 nation, in an enlargement and softening of the heart. The 
 immediate cause of death was a general dropsical effusion. 
 
 In August, 1834, symptoms of dropsy in the chest appear- 
 ed. I have often heard him describe its commencement. " I 
 awoke," said he, " with a new and dreadful sensation here," 
 laying his hand upon his breast ; " and I asked myself, what 
 if only this were eternal ! The thought was overwhelm- 
 ing. My mind at once turned to some whom I had loved, 
 and who had gone into eternity, leaving no evidence that 
 they were prepared for heaven. The scene of their suffer- 
 ings became as real as though I had stood on the margin 
 of the burning lake." I visited Williamstown soon after this 
 memorable night, and found this impression stamped upon 
 his soul. He was as solemn as though he had indeed seen 
 the dread reality. His mind was weighed down with the 
 prospect of the eternal, the unendurable suffering of the wick- 
 ed ; and it was not until he was enabled to take a compre- 
 hensive view of the government of God, that he threw off the 
 gloom that rested upon his mind. It was the only time I ever 
 saw him gloomy. From this time the salvation of souls from 
 this eternity of misery, was the one subject that occupied his 
 time, his conversation, and his prayers. From this time may 
 be traced his rapid increase in spirituality, and his evident ri- 
 pening for heaven. Soon after, his symptoms became alarm- 
 ing, but for himself he manifested no anxiety. The passage 
 in Phil. iv. 6, 7, seemed to dwell upon his mind, and to leave 
 its own impress there. These dropsical symptoms soon yield- 
 ed to medical skill, and returned not again till after my mo- 
 ther's death. But that noble frame which had stood firm and 
 erect for more than sixty winters, was henceforth to cmmble 
 away under the influence of disease. 
 
 On my father's return to this scene of his early labors, he 
 
NEWARK, AND HIS DEATH. 239 
 
 was welcomed with a warmth of affection, to him unexpected 
 and oveiwhehning. Here he found many of his spiritual 
 children, who hastened to remind him of their spiritual rela- 
 tions ; and many of the children of his departed friends, whose 
 parents had taught them to honor him from their infancy. 
 Here too he found the aged sinner, who in former years had 
 listened to his appeals as an ambassador for God ; and here 
 and there a child of the covenant, who was yet an " alien 
 from the commonwealth of Israel." Amidst such recognitions, 
 the yearnings of a pastor's heart revived. Early in the spring 
 he commenced a course of visitation, which occupied his morn- 
 ings for several successive weeks. And who that marked his 
 feeble footsteps as he bent before the chilling blast, but felt 
 that some mighty purpose moved his soul? These visits, 
 these admonitions, these prayers of anxious love, can never 
 be forgotten. They will be reviewed at the judgment. God 
 grant that they may not then appear as a witness against any 
 whom he sought to save ! 
 
 He preached eighteen sermons during the last year, besides 
 attending several funerals and addressing us, in his own im- 
 pressive manner, at our communion seasons. 
 
 The only objects for which he wished to live, as he repeat- 
 edly said, were to promote revivals of religion by his prayers, 
 conversation and preaching, and to prepare his MSS. for the 
 press. For this he was willing awhile to linger an exile from 
 heaven. 
 
 He was permitted to sow the good seed in many hearts ; — 
 to lay up a rich inheritance of prayer for his children and 
 friends ; — to commend the departing spirit of his beloved wife 
 to his Saviour and hers, and to see her precious remains safe- 
 ly deposited in sure hope of a glorious resurrection ; — to show 
 us how a good man may live, and how too he may die ; — and 
 then he was taken, I doubt not, to the " rest that remaineth 
 to the people of God." " Blessed are the dead that die in the 
 Lord. They rest from their labors, and their works do follow 
 
 them." 
 
 Your affectionate friend, 
 
 FRANCES LOUISA SMITH. 
 
240 LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 FROM THE FACULTY OF WILLIAMS COLLEGE TO 
 DR. SMITH. 
 
 The Faculty of Williams College, having recently heard 
 of the death of the Rev. Dr. Gritiin, and having been long 
 associated with him either as his pupils, or in the instruction 
 and government of the college, are desirous to express to his 
 family and near friends their sincere sympathy with them in 
 their bereavement, and the high sense which they entertain 
 of his talents and worth. 
 
 They feel that a great man, and a benefactor of his age 
 has departed. From his powers as a pulpit orator, and the 
 peculiar positions which he occupied, his influence as a preach- 
 er will be long felt, while his waitings must take their place 
 among standard theological works. 
 
 Of his connexion with this College, we, in common with 
 all its friends, would speak with gratitude. To him, probably 
 more than to any other man, is it owing that this College was 
 placed on a permanent foundation, and enjoys its present de- 
 gree of prosperity. His labors in its behalf were arduous, per- 
 severing and successful. During his Presidency the College 
 enjoyed several powerful revivals of religion, and it was espe- 
 cially from its connection with the cause of Christ, that he 
 watched over its interests and prayed for it. Through his pu- 
 pils his influence is now felt in heathen lands. 
 
 We rejoice to hear that his death was peaceful, and that in 
 that trying hour he was supported by the religion which he 
 had so long preached, and so extensively promoted. 
 
 The former members of his family, whom we can never 
 cease to regard with interest, will please accept, together with 
 yourself, our respectful and affectionate remembrance. 
 In behalf of the Faculty, 
 
 M. HOPKINS, PresH. 
 
 Dr. L. a. Smith. 
 
NEWARK, AND HIS DEATH. 241 
 
 FROM THE REV. HOLLIS READ TO MISS GRIFFIN. 
 
 Babylon, Nov. I3tk, 1837. 
 My Dear Miss Griffin, 
 
 The Newark Daily Advertiser, announcing the death of 
 your dear and venerated father, has this moment reached me. 
 The first impulse of my heart — that ever beat with love and 
 gratitude to that ever-blessed, but now glorified saint, and with 
 the most tender and respectful affection for his family, is to beg 
 the privilege and honor of mingUng my tears with yours on 
 this mournful occasion. But how mournful? I mourn for 
 myself that I have lost so valuable a counsellor, and so dear 
 a father and friend. I mourn for you, dear sister, and for all 
 those to whom he was so justly dear and valued. I mourn 
 for the church of Christ and for this dark world, because an- 
 other bright and shining light has sunk below our horizon. 
 But here my mourning stops. My tears dry. I look up and 
 see that innumerable throng around the throne. I listen — a 
 new harp is strung. A new voice is heard. Its infant notes 
 are distinguished amidst the countless host. They mingle 
 with the harmonious sounds of the ten thousand times ten 
 thousand in the New Jerusalem. It is the voice of our father. 
 Yes, of ow' father. I am the son of the travail of his soul. 
 He has entered " the gates of pearl." He walks the golden 
 streets. He finds peace within' its jasper walls — rest on its 
 " precious " foundations. Though the mortal part slumbereth 
 in the dark grave, yet slumbereth not the spirit. He hath no 
 need of the sun to shine upon it, for the glory of the Lord en- 
 lighteneth it, and the Lamb is the light thereof 
 
 Thanks then to God that he has gone before us. Heaven 
 is now nearer, dearer, sweeter. Is it not pleasant to think that 
 our dear father waits to receive and welcome us? He has 
 taught us here how to sing the song of redeeming love. And 
 new, since he has gone to take lessons at the feet of infinite 
 Perfection, may he not there again teach our unfledged souls 
 to soar and sing and praise him that loved us and washed us 
 from our sins in his own blood ? 
 
 Happy, happy saint! We love to follow him. We love to 
 
 Vol. L 31 
 
242 LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 listen to the sweet sound of his heavenly music now. We 
 love to look back and recall the past. What scenes with us 
 are associated with one period of his ministry ! We love to 
 contemplate him now so soon reunited in the bonds of ever- 
 lasting love, to your dear mother ; forever joined in holy ac- 
 tivity and ceaseless praise with " heaven's best gift " in his 
 earthly pilgrimage. 
 
 But hark ! there comes another sound from those once loved 
 and always revered lips. It is a sound of warning, of fear 
 and trembling, for his spiritual sons and daughters. It comes 
 to me ; to you ; to all who stand in this endeared relation. It 
 says, "beware" — "watch" — "strive" — "fear lest a promise 
 being left — some of you should come short of it." 
 
 But I must close. Accept my most heart-felt condolence in 
 this hour of severe bereavement. Your tears will flow. It is 
 nature. It is right. You know the Mourner's Friend. Your 
 Redeemer liveth. May he be found a ready help. 
 
 Mrs. Read unites with me in hearty sympathy and affec- 
 tionate regards to yourself and Dr. and Mrs. Smith. I beg 
 they will receive this humble token of condolence and affec- 
 tion equally with yourself. 
 
 Yours very affectionately, 
 
 H. READ. 
 
 FROM THE REV. DOCTOR HUMPHREY TO DR. GRIFFIN'S 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 Amherst College, Nov. 13th, 1837. 
 My afflicted Friends, 
 
 The southern mail, last evening, brought us the intelli- 
 gence that your revered and honored father has fallen asleep ! 
 Soon, but not too soon for him, lias he followed your beloved 
 mother, as we confidently believe, to her eternal rest. The 
 news was not so unexpected as to be surprising; for when I 
 saw him at the meeting of the American Board, his hold on 
 life appeared too feeble to last long. I have known Dr. Grif- 
 fin for about forty years, and have always regarded him as 
 one of the most eloquent, pungent, and useful preachers, that 
 
NEWARK, AND HIS DEATH. 243 
 
 I ever heard. There was a melody, a solemnity, a charm in 
 his voice, during all the prime of his ministry, and even up to 
 the age of sixty, which always struck strangers as very re- 
 markable, and what was of infinitely greater importance, he 
 dealt so faithfully with the conscience, that few could go away 
 so much admiring the preacher as to forget themselves. 
 
 His natural talents were certainly of a high order. His 
 mind, if not quite so rapid in its movements as some others, 
 was highly discriminating. He could grasp a difficult subject 
 with much apparent ease, and hold it at his pleasure. He 
 saw the relations and differences of things, with uncommon 
 perspicuity ; and what he saw clearly himself, he knew how 
 to present in a strong light to other minds. Of this there are 
 many fine examples in his Park-street Lectures — a book by 
 the way, which will go down to posterity. 
 
 To say nothing of the eminent services which he rendered 
 to religion and learning, in other stations, few ministers of the 
 age, I believe, have been instrumental of awakening and sav- 
 ing more souls than Dr. Griffin. How will his crown of re- 
 joicing sparkle with gems in the day of the Lord Jesus ! 
 Though he spent more time in several other places than in 
 Boston, I have always been impressed with the behef, that his 
 pre-eminent usefulness was on that ground. When he went 
 there, the piety of the pilgrim fathers had nearly ceased to 
 warm the bosoms of their descendants. Calvinism was a bye- 
 word and reproach. Orthodoxy hardly dared to show its head 
 in any of the Congregational pulpits. It wanted a strong arm 
 to hold up the standard of the cross, a strong voice to cry in 
 the ears of the people, and a bold heart to encounter the scorn 
 and the talent that were arrayed against him. And nobly, in 
 the fear and strength of the Lord, did he '■ quit himself." 
 
 Nothing was more striking in his character, than the high 
 ground which he always took in exhibiting the offensive doc- 
 trines of the gospel, particularly divine sovereignty, election, 
 the total depravity of the natural heart, and the necessity of 
 regeneration. These doctrines he exhibited with great clear- 
 ness and power, before friends and enemies. The crisis re- 
 
244 LAST RESIDENCE AT 
 
 quired just such a master-spirit, and Boston felt his power ; or 
 rather felt the power of God, which I must think wrought in 
 him mightily during his short ministry in Park-street. From 
 the time of his going there, orthodoxy began to revive; and 
 we all know how many flourishing churches have, as it were, 
 sprung from that one stock. 
 
 With your thrice honored father God was every thing, and 
 man was nothing. He wanted to see every body lying at the 
 footstool with perfect submission to the divine will, putting a 
 blank into God's handy, to be filled up just according to his 
 infinite wisdom and pleasure; and there he loved to lie him- 
 self This was the theme of his remaiks when I saw him at 
 your house, a few weeks ago. He seemed fully resolved, that 
 if ever he was saved, God should have all the glory of it — 
 that if he went to heaven, he would go there to sing redeem- 
 ing love. Never shall we forget either his address, or his pray- 
 er, on the last forenoon of our session in your church. Both 
 were close on the verge of heaven ! And how exquisitely did 
 he enjoy the hymns of praise in your family circle on the 
 evening of the sabbath when I saw him last. 
 
 Most sincerely do I sympatliize with you in your afflictions, 
 and rejoice with you too, in the bright hopes which shine up- 
 on the path of your sorrows. May the Lord bless and sanc- 
 tify you ; and may you ever be followers of those, who through 
 faitli and patience inherit the promises ! 
 
 I am, very sincerely, your friend, 
 
 H. HUMPHREY. 
 
 The following letter from the Rev. Dr. Burder 
 of London, shows in what estimation Dr. Grif- 
 fin's character was held abroad. 
 
 Hackney, June 7th, 1831. 
 Rev. and Dear Sir, 
 
 It cannot but be gratifying to me to have an opportunity 
 of addressing a few lines to you, under circumstances which 
 shelter me from tlie charge of being obtrusive. A few days 
 
NEWARK, AND HIS DEATH. 245 
 
 ago I had the honor of receiving the diploma which bears 
 your signature ; and in my view, if the entire value of that 
 document were derived from that revered name, it would be 
 entitled to warmer acknowledgments than my words can con- 
 vey. I feel, however, greatly indebted to every member of 
 the " Senatus Academicus," as well as to their honored Presi- 
 dent, for the degree which has been conferred in a manner so 
 kind, and handsome, and indulgent. To you, my Dear Sir, 
 and to the learned body over which you preside, I owe, in 
 some respects, even a greater debt of gratitude than to the 
 University of Glasgow, where I pursued my studies, whose 
 kindness has conferred a similar honor. May I become less 
 unworthy of a distinction which I could never have presumed 
 to solicit! 
 
 Through the kindness of our mutual friend. Dr. S., I have 
 had the pleasure of cultivating that kind of acquaintance with 
 you, my Dear Sir, which is rendered practicable by the press. 
 To many of the habitual and powerful workings of your mind 
 I am no stranger. You have assisted me in my feeble efforts 
 to seek a "Heavenly mind." Your Park-st. lectures have 
 given many a vigorous impulse to my thoughts on the great 
 things of God; and this very morning I have perused, with 
 no ordinary emotions, your Murray-st. discourse on " glory- 
 ing in the Lord." May those energies of intellect which the 
 Father of spirits has awakened and consecrated, long be con- 
 tinued, in unimpaired power, for a blessing to America, to 
 Britain, to the world. 
 
 I am beyond expression interested and impressed by the in- 
 telligence I. have received in reference to the present revivals 
 of religion in your happy and honored country. Oh what a 
 day of glory has dawned upon your churches ! Did my fa- 
 mily (of four children, now motherless,) and my flock per- 
 mit, how enraptured I should be to cross the ocean and min- 
 gle with you in your joys and thanksgivings and supplica- 
 tions. Oh pray, my Dear Sir, for us, that the blessed influen- 
 ces of the Holy Oiire may thus descend upon the land of your 
 fathers ! 
 
246 LATE RESIDENCE, &C. 
 
 With blended emotions, of gratitude, respect, and attach 
 ment, believe me to be, Rev. and Dear Sir, very cordially 
 and faithfully, and obediently, yours, 
 
 HENRY FORSTER BURDER. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 GENERAL ESTIMATE OF HIS CHARACTER AND INFLUENCE. 
 
 It has been the design of the preceding chapters 
 to exhibit Doctor Griffin's general course through 
 Hfe, in connexion with such extracts from his pri- 
 vate journal as seemed best adapted to illustrate the 
 various stages of his christian experience. It only 
 remains to present some of the more prominent fea- 
 tures of his character a little in detail, and to at- 
 tempt some general estimate of the extended and 
 diversified influence of his life. 
 
 Doctor Griffin was remarkable in his physical 
 conformation. He measured six feet and nearly 
 three inches from the ground, and his frame was 
 every way well proportioned. His gigantic and 
 noble form attracted the attention of strans^ers as 
 he walked the streets ; and when he rose in a great 
 assembly, he towered so much above the rest as to 
 throw around men of ordinary stature an air of in- 
 significance. His countenance was peculiar — ex- 
 pressive both of strong thought and strong feeling; 
 and those who knew him will recognize a faithful 
 delineation, both of his features and his expression, 
 in the engraved portrait prefixed to this memoir. 
 Though he was somewhat feeble in his early child- 
 
248 HIS CHARACTER 
 
 hood, he ultimately developed a fine constitution, and 
 during much the greater part of his life possessed an 
 uncommon share of physical vigor. It may also be 
 mentioned in this connexion, that he was remarka- 
 ble, even to the last day of his life, for his habits 
 of personal neatness. " The last sun that shone 
 upon him," says a member of his family, " found 
 him brushing his teeth as thoroughly as he ever did> 
 and his regular shaving and change of apparel were 
 never intermitted." 
 
 It is hardly necessary to say that Doctor Griffin 
 was quite as extraordinary in his iritellectual charac- 
 ter as in his physical powers and proportions. It 
 would perhaps be difficult to say whether the ima- 
 gination or the reasoning faculty constituted the 
 predominating feature of his mind ; for he was one 
 of the rare instances of pre-eminence in both. He 
 seemed equally at home in the heights and in the 
 depths : if his mind was prolific of the most mag- 
 nificent and burning conceptions, it was also capa- 
 ble of pushing the most abstract subject of inquiry 
 to the farthest limit of human investigation. But 
 while his imagination soared high, and his reason- 
 ing faculty penetrated far, neither the one nor the 
 other was particularly rapid in its operations. The 
 movements of his mind all partook more of the ma- 
 jesty of the thunder-storm than the impetuosity of 
 the whirlwind. 
 
 His intellectual habits were substantially those of 
 every thoroughly disciplined mind. He had no 
 time to devote to useless employments, and his fa- 
 culties never became rusty from inaction. A do- 
 
AND INFLUENCE. 249 
 
 mestic in his family testifies that she never entered 
 his room without finding him engaged in writing, 
 reading, or prayer. He was also in all things, the 
 smallest as well as the greatest, remarkably atten- 
 tive to system ; and he was never satisfied unless 
 every thing around him occupied its appropriate 
 place, and every thing devolving upon him was 
 done at the proper time. And to these qualities 
 may be added a spirit of uncommon perseverance ; 
 a fixed purpose to do well whatever he undertook ; 
 to get to the bottom of every subject which he at- 
 tempted to investigate. During the last year of his 
 life he copied out a little book of hymns, as cor- 
 rectly as if they had been designed for the press ; 
 and within a sabbath or two previous to his death, as 
 he was reading some missionary journal, he request- 
 ed his daughter to hand him his atlas that he might 
 find certain places mentioned in it, and he bent over 
 the map with untiring interest until he had traced 
 the whole course. 
 
 Dr. Griffin's dispositiofis and feelings were so 
 far moulded by the influence of religion, that it 
 was not easy always to distinguish between the 
 man and the christian ; — between the elements of 
 nature and the graces of the Spirit. There was, 
 however, a tenderness and generosity and magna- 
 nimity about him, which every one felt to be in- 
 stinctive. He was also naturally of a social turn, 
 and accommodated himself with great felicity to 
 persons of different ages and capacities. In al- 
 most every circle into which he was thrown, he 
 was sure to lead the conversation ; and yet not in 
 
 Vol. 1. 3 2 
 
250 HIS CHARACTER 
 
 a way that seemed officious or obtrusive, but be- 
 cause he was put forward by the united consent of 
 those who felt his superiority. 
 
 It would appear from the journal that he kept of 
 his private religious exercises, that the leading ele- 
 ment of his christian character was a deep sense of 
 his own corruptions and of his entire dependance 
 on the sovereign grace of God in Christ; and 
 hence he was always peculiarly jealous for the di- 
 vine glory : — always ready to buckle on his armor 
 for conflict when he saw any movements in the theo- 
 logical world, which looked hostile to the sove- 
 reignty of God or the dignity of his Son. In the 
 early part of his christian course, his mind seems 
 to have been occupied more with the severer truths 
 of God's word, especially the nature and obliga- 
 tions of his law ; but in his later days he was much 
 more disposed to dwell upon the grace and glory of 
 the gospel — the fulness of its provisions and the 
 freeness of its oflers ; and hence his piety, as he 
 advanced toward the end of his course, became in- 
 creasingly cheerful and attractive. Those who had 
 the opportunity of enjoying his society in the last 
 months of his life, felt that his eye was turned di- 
 rectly and habitually upon the sun of Righteous- 
 ness ; and that every desire of his heart was swal- 
 lowed up in this — that God's will might be done, 
 and God's name glorified. 
 
 Doctor Griffin was remarkable for his strict ad- 
 herence to truth. He had no sympathy with those 
 lax notions on this subject which have been so la- 
 mentably common in these later years, among many 
 
AND INFLUENCE. 261 
 
 professed christians, not to say ministers of the 
 gospel — especially the notion that it is lawful to 
 practise some degree of deception in religious mat- 
 ters, for the sake of gaining what is supposed to be 
 an important end : on the contrary, he allowed not 
 himself either by his words or his actions, either 
 in respect to religion or any thing else, intention- 
 ally to leave an impression upon any mind that was 
 at variance with his honest convictions. " I well 
 remember," says his daughter. " his early attempts 
 to fix my confidence in his word j — a confidence 
 which he never forfeited. He would place me on 
 a high mantle piece, and then removing himself a 
 short distance direct me to throw myself into his 
 arms, assuring me that it was safe, and that he 
 would take me down in no other way. I would 
 sit for a long time, pleading, trembling, perhaps 
 weeping, till finding him inflexible, I was forced to 
 make the dreaded leap, and test the truth of his 
 promise. In after life it was his frequent and fear- 
 less appeal, ' Did your father ever deceive you ?' 
 In his diary he mentions assuming a smile at the 
 side of Ellen's sick bed, in order to conceal from 
 her my danger, and then adds, ' and for the first 
 and only time deceived my child.' " 
 
 Another peculiarly amiable feature in his charac- 
 ter, was his freedom from censoriousness. The law 
 of kindness was upon his lips ; and though he 
 was often engaged in controversy, and felt himself 
 called in obedience to his strong convictions of 
 duty, to expose what he deemed the errors of others 
 either in doctrine or practice, yet he was uniform- 
 
252 HIS CHARACTER 
 
 ]y courteous toward his opponents. The maxim 
 which regulated his conduct as a controvertist was, 
 " Crush heresy, but spare the heretic." 
 
 Intimately connected with the preceding, was 
 another quality which, to those who knew him best, 
 constituted one of the brightest attractions of his 
 character — viz. a meek and forgiving spirit. Few 
 men have suffered more than he, either from the 
 detraction and virulence of enemies, or the mis- 
 taken impressions of friends ; and few, it is believed, 
 in similar circumstances, have evinced so much of 
 christian forbearance and magnanimity. Doctor 
 Spring, who had known him long and intimately, 
 says, in the sermon preached at his funeral, "I 
 have known him a greatly injured man, but I have 
 never known him cherish a retaliating or revenge- 
 ful disposition. I have seen him weep under inju- 
 ries, but I never heard him utter an angry sentence 
 against those who reviled him. There was a kind- 
 ness, a generosity, a nobleness of heart about him, 
 which his enemies never knew how to appreciate." 
 If any further evidence were needed of his possess- 
 ing in a high degree this attribute of christian cha- 
 racter, it is furnished by the following record — 
 equally touching and sublime — which he made in 
 his diary, relative to certain slanderous reports 
 which had been put in circulation concerning him. 
 
 "At this period the greatest trial of aiy life commenced 
 through the unkindness of friends whom I had never injured. 
 Through misrepresentations and misapprehensions I was ac- 
 cused of things of whicli I was perfectly innocent. In that 
 time of trial I was determined not to say a wrong thing, or do 
 
AND INFLUENCE. 253 
 
 a wrong action, to save my character or life. I never saw be- 
 fore how Uttle love I had, how hard it was to love a mere neigh- 
 bor, an enemy as myself, and never before saw the miracle 
 which was exhibited in the pretorium and on the cross. I felt 
 a spirit of forbearance and kindness which I scarcely thought 
 possible ; and when another spirit arose, my remedy was to 
 go to my knees, and pray for my persecutors until 1 could for- 
 give them." 
 
 As the interests of Christ's kingdom lay specially 
 near his heart, he was always ready not only to 
 urge upon others the duty of consecrating their pro- 
 perty to its advancement, but to do this himself ac- 
 cording to his ability. He was never rich ; but out 
 of the competence which he possessed, he contri- 
 buted more or less to most of the great benevolent 
 objects of the day. The generous donation which 
 he made to the college, and with which he com- 
 menced the effort that resulted in its extended 
 means and increased prosperity, has been noticed 
 in a preceding chapter. During his residence at 
 Williamstown, he had, on a certain occasion, sub- 
 scribed a hundred dollars to assist a feeble congre- 
 gation in the neighborhood in building a church. 
 As the time for payment drew near, he found it dif- 
 ficult to command the necessary means for meeting 
 it. About that time he journeyed eastward in be- 
 half of the college, with an intention to spend one 
 sabbath with his friends in Boston. But on his ar- 
 rival there, he met a clergyman who urged his pass- 
 ing that sabbath with him ; and added, " My wife 
 says, If Dr. G. will come and preach for us, I will 
 give him fifty dollars." The Doctor understanding 
 this to be intended for the college, relinquished his 
 
254 HIS CHARACTER 
 
 purpose of remaining in Boston, and accepted the 
 invitation. When his plate was removed from the 
 breakfast table Monday morning, he found a hun- 
 dred dollar note lying before him, with a request 
 that he would accept it as his own. This sum, 
 with his accustomed promptness, he appropriated to 
 the payment of his subscription. The circumstance 
 he was accustomed to reckon among the peculiar 
 providences of God toward him. 
 
 And this suggests another striking feature of his 
 character, viz. his habitual recognition of a divine 
 providence^ and his conjidence in God under all cir- 
 cumstances. He was fond of repeating the maxim 
 of the blind Mr. Prince, " He that will observe 
 the providence of God shall never want for matter 
 of observation." His calculations for the future 
 seemed always to be made in the spirit of the Apos- 
 tle's exhortation, " If the Lord will, we shall live 
 and do this or that." A striking instance of his con- 
 fidence in God for the success of his labors, occur- 
 red at a meeting of ministers shortly after his re- 
 moval to Boston. The conversation having turned 
 upon the peculiarly difficult and responsible station 
 in which he had been placed. Dr. Samuel Spring 
 turned to him and said, " Dr. G. you seem like a 
 man placed upright upon the point of a steeple with 
 nothing to hold by — now how will you stand?" 
 " You mistake," said Dr. G. " I have God to hold 
 by." 
 
 As he felt deeply his dependance on God, his 
 life, especially the latter part of it, seems to have 
 been eminently a life of prayer. For a considera- 
 
AND INFLUENCE. 255 
 
 ble period previous to his death, no small part of 
 his waking hours was spent in private devotion. 
 The following touching circumstance, as related by 
 his daughter, shows how closely he had interwoven 
 this duty with the economy of every day : " On 
 one of his last sabbaths," she says, " when his de- 
 bility had produced a drowsiness hard to be over- 
 come, about noon he suddenly raised himself and 
 said, ' I have not prayed since morning, I have 
 been so sleepy. I wish you would lead me into the 
 next room ' (where there was no fire) ' that I may 
 wake up to pray.' I accordingly led him to the 
 sofa, and wrapped a cloak about him and left him 
 alone. Here as he sat for nearly an hour, I heard 
 his voice from time to time raised in supplication. 
 He then asked for his Form of Self-examination, 
 and remained some time longer engaged in reading 
 it over." 
 
 In glancing at Dr. G's public character, it is na- 
 tural first to contemplate him where he was per- 
 haps more in his element than any where else — in 
 the pulpit. As a preacher it may safely be said that 
 few of any age have reached so commanding an 
 eminence. Some of our transatlantic brethren, 
 who have listened to him, and who were familiar 
 with the best specimens of the eloquence of the 
 pulpit in Great Britain, have unhesitatingly express- 
 ed their conviction that Dr. G. was not exceeded, 
 either in matter or manner, by the best British 
 preachers they had ever heard. In the selection of 
 his subjects he evidently kept in view, in an unu- 
 sual degree, the only legitimate end of preaching — 
 
256 HIS CHARACTER 
 
 the sanctification and salvation of men ; and hence 
 he never degraded the pulpit by the introduction of 
 topics which might gratify a mere intellectual taste, 
 but which could never find their way to the con- 
 science or the heart. His sermons were eminently 
 rich in divine truth ; those truths which humble man 
 and exalt God ; and no man who listened to him at- 
 tentively had ever any just reason to complain that 
 he had nothing to carry away. Though he was an 
 acute metaphysician, yet he rarely introduced me- 
 taphysical discussions into the pulpit ; and when- 
 ever he did, it was rather with a view to repel the 
 assaults of the enemies of truth with their own wea- 
 pons, than to borrow light from reason for the esta- 
 blishment of scripture doctrine. He reasoned in- 
 deed, and reasoned with great power ; but his ar- 
 guments were based on scripture and common sense, 
 and were ordinarily within the comprehension of 
 any class of his hearers. And as he administered 
 to the intellect its appropriate aliment, he knew how 
 to address himself with equal power to the feehngs; 
 and it was difficult to say which was most to be ad- 
 mired, the cogency of his reasoning, the grandeur 
 of his conceptions, or the tenderness of his appeals. 
 Now he came down upon the sinner's conscience 
 with the weight of a mountain, and again, by a 
 wonderful effort of imagination, he seemed to raise 
 the christian to the very gate of heaven, and hold 
 him there till he became well nigh entranced with 
 its glories. His manner was emphatically his own ; 
 and though a faint resemblance of it has been sha- 
 dowed forth in a considerable number of our preach- 
 
AND INFLUENCE. 257 
 
 ers, yet the best effort at imitation does nothing 
 more than painfully remind us of the magnificent 
 original. In more senses than one he might be 
 called the giant of the pulpit. His stately and no- 
 ble form, his erect and dignified attitude, would en- 
 chain a congregation of strangers before he opened 
 his lips. And then his voice was in good keeping 
 with his person : it could express the softest and 
 gentlest emotions with inimitable effect, while it 
 could swell into the majesty of the thunder or 
 break upon you in the fury of the tempest. His 
 sermons for the pulpit were always written, and 
 with very few exceptions always read ; but his style 
 was so adapted to his manner, and his reading so 
 admirably perfect, that even the most bigotted op- 
 posers of reading in the pulpit were constrained to 
 acknowledge that this mode of preaching answered 
 very well for him. His gestures, like every thing 
 else that pertained to his manner, were bold and 
 striking ; and when he was excited, as he almost 
 always was in some part of his sermon, they suc- 
 ceeded each other with great rapidity. In his ordi- 
 nary preaching, there is said to have been very con- 
 siderable inequality ; though even his most mode- 
 rate sermons had something to identify them as his 
 own, and bore more or less of the impress of his 
 noble mind. In his more public and extraordinary 
 efforts, for which he always took ample time to pre- 
 pare, he rarely if ever failed ; and on some of these 
 occasions he rose to the very highest pitch of elo- 
 quence. His sermon on " the art of preaching," 
 delivered before the Pastoral Association of Mas- 
 
 Vol. I. 33 
 
258 HIS CHARACTER 
 
 sachusetts, is perhaps the very best thing extant 
 on that subject ; and it would be difficult to find a 
 man who combined in a higher degree than Dr. 
 Griffin himself the qualities which he has there 
 so admirably described as essential to perfection 
 in preaching. 
 
 In his pastoral and private religious intercourse 
 Doctor G. exhibited all the tenderness of his heart. 
 He attached great importance to visiting from house 
 to house, not only for the general purpose of reli- 
 gious intercourse with his people, but that he might 
 learn from the state of his congregation what he 
 ought to preach on the one hand, and what effect 
 his preaching had produced on the other. The fol- 
 lowing circumstance furnishes a beautiful example 
 of the tenderness of his spirit in his intercourse 
 with the careless and ungodly. A Jew who now 
 professes to be a christian, called upon him in com- 
 pany with a clergyman. In the course of the in- 
 terview. Dr. G. turning to his clerical brother, in- 
 quired, " What are our young friend's views on the 
 subject of religion?" He could not tell. The 
 Doctor instantly took the hand of the Jew, and 
 threw his arm around him, and exclaimed, " I love 
 the Jews — Oh, you must love the Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 But it was in revivals of religion especially that Dr. 
 G. appeared with surpassing advantage ; and in con- 
 nexion with these perhaps he has rendered his most 
 important services to the church. The history of his 
 life seems little less than the history of one unbro- 
 ken revival; and it would perhaps be difficult to 
 name the individual in our country since the days 
 
AND INFLUENCE. 259 
 
 of Whitefield, who has been instrumental of an 
 equal number of hopeful conversions. But while 
 he possessed in so high a degree the spirit of revi- 
 vals, he had no communion with the spirit of fana- 
 ticism ; and when he saw a community at the very 
 highest point of religious excitement, he still in- 
 sisted that every thing should be done decently and 
 in order. No man deplored more deeply than he 
 the erratic and extravagant measures by which so 
 many of our more modern revivals have been 
 marked ; and no one labored more zealously than 
 he to purify those scenes in which he so much de- 
 lighted of every unhallowed admixture, and to bring 
 back the scriptural simplicity and order of other 
 and better days. 
 
 The following extract of a letter from a distin- 
 guished clergyman of the Presbyterian church, who 
 was a pupil of Dr. G's at Williamstown, will not 
 only serve to show what he was in revivals, but to 
 illustrate some striking traits of his character. 
 
 Early in the spring of 1824, if I remember rightly, there 
 were glowing appearances of a most extensive revival. The 
 college and the town were greatly shaken. Dr. G. was all 
 fervor and zeal. The excitement continued four or five weeks. 
 A few individuals seemed converted. A wicked fellow, by the 
 name of R , began to exhort us with great power and ef- 
 fect. But the excitement subsided as suddenly as it sprang 
 up. And after all feeling had passed over, there was but one 
 in town or college that gave evidence of true conversion ; and 
 that was William Hervey, whose bones repose in India, where 
 he went as a missionary under the American Board. He was 
 
 one of the best men I ever knew. In a few weeks R 
 
 was found drunk. In reference to all this matter, I heard Dr. 
 
260 HIS CHARACTER 
 
 G. say afterwards, " To save one immortal soul the Lord will 
 shake a whole church, a whole town, and if nothing less will 
 save it, he will shake a whole continent." And to illustrate 
 this position, he would narrate, with melting pathos, the story 
 of Hervey's conversion. 
 
 If I recollect dates aright, in the spring of 1825 there was 
 a truly powerful and genuine revival in town and college. In 
 this work Dr. G. was the prime instrument. Some of the 
 most touching moral scenes that I ever saw or heard of occur- 
 red during its progress. Guilty of the sin of David, we num- 
 bered the converted and the unconverted. The report went 
 out one morning, and reached Dr. G. that all college was 
 converted but eighteen. There was to be a prayer meeting 
 that night, and he sent over word that he would meet with us. 
 Although the evening was dark and stormy, and the ground 
 exceedingly muddy, there was not probably a student of 
 college absent from the meeting. We waited in breathless si- 
 lence for the Doctor. He came, and the lecture room was so 
 crowded that he stood in the door, whilst giving his hat to one, 
 and his cloak and lantern to others. He stood for a moment 
 gazing through his tears on the crowd before him. Then 
 clasping his hands and lifting up his face to heaven, he utter- 
 ed in the most moving accents these words — " Or those eigh- 
 teen upon whom the tower in Siloam fell, think ye that they 
 were sinners above all men that dwelt in Jerusalem ?" The 
 effect was overpowering. For minutes he could not utter ano- 
 ther word, and the room was filled with weeping. It was one 
 of those inimitable touches which he could occasionally give 
 beyond all men that I have ever known. I narrated the in- 
 cident to him a few weeks previous to his death. He wept 
 aloud on its recital ; but had forgotten all about it. 
 
 Another of these touches he gave at the last service but one 
 that I heard him perform. It was at the funeral of the Rev. 
 Mr. G. of this town. After a solemn service he offered the 
 concluding prayer, which he commenced thus — " O Lord, we 
 thank thee that good men may die." Being uttered, as it 
 
AND INFLUENCE. 261 
 
 was, in his peculiar manner, it deeply impressed and affected 
 every mind. 
 
 During revivals his sermons were nothing in comparison 
 with his talks and lectures. I have heard him preach great 
 sermons, but the most eloquent and glowing thoughts that I 
 ever heard from mortal lips, were from him in the school- 
 houses at Williamstown. 
 
 In my repeated interviews with him previous to his death, 
 I found nothing to interest him so much as little incidents in 
 reference to revivals in college, and intelligence in respect to 
 the usefulness of students who had been converted under him. 
 He seemed to feel as if he had been multiplying himself in 
 every student converted through his instrumentality. In my 
 last interview with him, I told him the story of the conversion 
 in 1825, of a Mr. H. now a highly useful minister, but then 
 a profane and worthless profligate. The Doctor was in the 
 habit of frequently closing his sermons with "Hallelujah, 
 Amen," and always repeated the words in a pecuharly varied 
 and musical tone. His tones were caught and repeated with 
 
 laughable accuracy by H . Just at the commencement 
 
 of the revival he was often heard repeating these words, and 
 with great force and wit and sarcasm, exhorting his fellow 
 students to get converted ; swearing that he himself would get 
 converted the very first one. And as God would have it, he 
 was converted the very first one. He was seen on a fast day 
 morning coming into the prayer meeting, as we all thought, 
 to make sport. But before the meeting ended he arose, and 
 such an appeal to the students as he made, and such an eflect 
 as it produced, I never witnessed. And to the close of the re- 
 vival he was as useful as any among us. The story affected 
 the Doctor to such a degree that for a time he was entirely 
 overcome. 
 
 It has already been intimated that Doctor G.'s 
 heart was much in the great cause of christian be- 
 nevolence, and that his hand was ever open to con- 
 
262 HIS CHARACTER 
 
 tribute to its advancement according to his ability. 
 But much of what he did on this subject, belongs 
 rather to his public than his private character. The 
 spirit of missions is intimately allied to the spirit of 
 revivals ; and if he caught the latter at a very ear- 
 ly period and in a very high degree, he was not less 
 eminently imbued with the former. In the forma- 
 tion of most of those great national institutions 
 which for years have been radiating points of be- 
 nign and illuminating influence to the world, he was 
 active ; his eloquent voice has often been lifted up 
 in the most overwhelming appeals on their behalf; 
 and there are multitudes with whom the impression 
 that he produced on these occasions still remains al- 
 most as vivid, as if it were of yesterday. The Ame- 
 rican Board of Foreign Missions with which he had 
 been identified from the beginning, and in the for- 
 mation of which he exerted an important influence, 
 continued always the special object of his deep and 
 earnest regard. At the last meeting of this Board 
 which occurred at Newark a few days before his 
 death, he was present, though in a greatly enfeebled 
 state, and took part in its deliberations, and even 
 made a public address, which is said to have been 
 one of his most delightful and impressive efforts. 
 It was the voice of an aged pilgrim on the verge of 
 heaven, pleading for the salvation of a world from 
 which his spirit was in a few days to take its final 
 flight. 
 
 If there was any one department of christian be- 
 nevolence in which Doctor G. took a deeper inte- 
 rest than in any other, perhaps it was the education 
 
AND INFLUENCE. 263 
 
 of young men for the sacred office. He saw early 
 and clearly that this was vital in any system of in- 
 strumentalities which should be introduced for evan- 
 gelizing the world ; and upon this he seems to have 
 had an anxious eye at least from the period of his 
 introduction into the ministry. In a letter to the 
 Rev. Calvin Durfy, then of Hunter, Greene coun- 
 ty, New- York, dated March 4, 1828, he writes thus : 
 " I was glad to hear of the blessing of God upon 
 your labors, and of the prospe^^t of your settlement 
 in that part of the country. May you be used as 
 an instrument of great good to Zion. I hope you 
 will be able to send some of those young men whom 
 God is sanctifying, to assist our prayers here, to 
 take your place within these halls, and to prepare 
 here for the future service of the church. Will 
 you not keep your eye steadily fixed on this object ? 
 I used to think at your age that if I could bring for- 
 ward one young man who would make a better mi- 
 nister than myself, in that single act I should do 
 more good than in all my life beside." In accor- 
 dance with the sentiments here expressed, he had 
 always a watchful eye and a helping hand in rela- 
 tion to this subject; and there are not a small num- 
 ber now usefully engaged in the ministry, who, but 
 for his paternal counsel and aid, would have been 
 devoted to this day to some secular occupation. 
 
 Doctor Griffin was in no small degree distin- 
 guished as a teacher of youth, especially in the de- 
 partment of rhetoric and oratory ; and hence those 
 who enjoyed the privil-ege of his instructions at 
 Andover, are so often heard to speak of him in this 
 
264 HIS CHARACTER 
 
 respect, in terms of unqualified admiration. His 
 powers of criticism were well nigh unrivalled. A 
 piece of composition which to an ordinary eye 
 might seem to be tolerably free from defects he 
 would take, and in reading it over a single time 
 would reveal errors enough, even to the author's 
 own eye, at least to furnish an antidote against any 
 over- weening pretensions. To a friend who re- 
 quested him to criticise a sermon, he said, " Yes, I 
 will do it; but you ought to know thai; I am a bloody 
 man in these matters ;" and then proceeded in his 
 criticism, verifying his declaration by drawing blood 
 at every stroke. Those only who have enjoyed the 
 benefit of his instructions, can form an adequate 
 idea how much he was above ordinary teachers, 
 especially in every thing belonging to the depart- 
 ment of criticism. 
 
 Notwithstanding he presided over the college 
 with great dignity, and was particularly successful 
 in keeping up those various forms on which the or- 
 der of such an institution so materially depends, 
 yet, after all, his power of managing youth is said 
 to have been less than his power of communicating 
 instruction ; owing to a natural quickness of feeling 
 which sometimes temporarily prevailed over the dic- 
 tates of his judgment. But ordinarily he manifest- 
 ed much of a fraternal spirit toward his pupils, and 
 he was especially alive to every thing in which their 
 religious interests were involved. One of them 
 gives the following interesting account of his first 
 interview with him: — "I was first introduced to 
 him by letter in the fall of 1822, when I went to 
 
AND INFLUENCE. 265 
 
 Williamstowii to enter the Freshman class. The 
 first sight of his gigantic frame overawed me. In 
 a moment he placed the timorous boy at his ease. 
 After reading my letter, he rose and came to the 
 corner of the room where I was sitting, and laying 
 his hand on my head, said, ' I am glad to see you 
 here ; you must be my son, and I will be your fa- 
 ther, and you must inform me of any thing that 
 you need or wish.' He acted to me the part of a 
 kind father, in every respect, as long as he lived." 
 
 As a tJieological writer Doctor Griffin is no 
 doubt destined to occupy a place among the first of 
 the period in which he lived. His treatises on the 
 atonement and on Divine efficiency are both monu- 
 ments of great intellectual labor, and could never 
 have been produced but by a powerful and tho- 
 roughly disciplined mind; but it was, after, all, in 
 the composition of sermons that his pre-eminence 
 as a writer especially consisted. His Park-street 
 Lectures is perhaps the work on which his reputa- 
 tion hitherto has depended more than upon any 
 other ; though there are several of his occasional 
 sermons which are not at all inferior to the best 
 portions of that volume. It is an invaluable legacy 
 to posterity that he has left in the sermons which 
 are now to be given to the public ; and it will be 
 gratifying, not only to his friends but to the chris- 
 tian community at large, to know that there are ser- 
 mons enough in manuscript still remaining, for one 
 or two additional volumes, all of which have been re- 
 written in his later years, and have undergone his 
 careful and finishing touch. 
 
 Vol. I. 34 
 
266 HIS CHARACTER 
 
 It may probably occur to some readers that the 
 view which has here been presented of Doctor 
 Griffin's character must certainly be a very im- 
 perfect one, inasmuch as he was a man, and yet 
 nothing has been said of his infirmities and imper- 
 fections. Of course it is not intended to claim for 
 him an exemption from the frailties of human na- 
 ture ; but whatever defects of character he may 
 have had, (and where is the man who is free from 
 them?) those who knew him need not be told 
 what they were, and those who did not know him, 
 would be little likely to profit by the information. 
 Suffice it to say, if the record of his private expe- 
 rience is to be relied on, he was prone to any thing 
 rather than self-justification. No small part of his 
 life seems to have been passed in mourning over 
 his errors and corruptions ; and the views which he 
 has recorded of his own character before God 
 greatly exceed what the most scrutinizing caviller 
 would have dared to utter before men. 
 
 In reviewing the life of Doctor Griffin, we find 
 occasion to acknowledge the divine goodness, not 
 only in the transcendant powers with which he was 
 endowed, and the holy impulse which these powers 
 received from the influence of God's Spirit, but in 
 the providential arrangement of events with refe- 
 rence to their most advantageous exercise. He be- 
 gan his career at a period of unrivalled interest ; a 
 period when great events were the order of the day, 
 and the spirit of missions was breaking forth in one 
 country, and the spirit of revivals in another, and in 
 a third, a storm of atheistical fanaticism, that made 
 
AND INFLUENCE. 267 
 
 the very foundations of society rock. He quickly 
 caught the spirit of the new era — a spirit for rege- 
 nerating the world ; and he found himself at home 
 in the field which opened around him. Had he lived 
 at an earlier period, he would indeed have been re- 
 membered as a great man, and perhaps as an emi- 
 nently devoted minister ; and yet the monuments of 
 his pious activity might have been comparatively 
 few : his commanding energies might have been ex- 
 hausted in prophesying to bones upon which the 
 breath from heaven had not begun to fall, even to 
 the time of his going down to the grave. But he 
 came upon the stage at the very time when the pre- 
 paration in providence seemed to have been com- 
 pleted for the introduction of a new order of things : 
 the fields where white around him, and what he had 
 to do was to take his sickle and go forth to the har- 
 vest. It is worthy of remark also, that, upon his 
 first settlement in the ministry, he was thrown into 
 the immediate society of some of the most eminent- 
 ly devoted ministers which this or any other coun- 
 try has produced ; such as Mills, Hallock, Gillet, 
 &:c. and there is no doubt that his frequent and in- 
 timate intercourse with these venerated men, had 
 an important bearing upon his subsequent character 
 and usefulness. Nor is the providence of God less 
 to be acknowledged in respect to the different pub- 
 lic stations which he occupied ; — stations for which 
 his talents and acquisitions admirably fitted him. 
 His first settlement was indeed in a comparatively 
 obscure place ; but w hile his labors there were 
 crowned with an abundant blessing, the retirement 
 
268 HIS CHARACTER 
 
 of his situation was favorable to increasing his 
 stock of ministerial furniture, and thus preparing 
 him the better for the more public field which he 
 was destined to occupy. At Newark he preached 
 to one of the largest and most important congrega- 
 tions in the United States, while the vicinity of 
 his residence to the city of New-York, brought him 
 much before the eye of that metropolis, and great- 
 ly increased the amount of his general influence. 
 Though his sojourn at Andover was short, yet it 
 was of great importance, not only on account of 
 the benefit which his instructions secured to his 
 pupils, but on account of the character which his 
 pre-eminent talents at once gave to the infant in- 
 stitution. In Park-street he accomplished what it 
 may safely be said scarcely any other man could 
 have done. Fearless of opposition, and relying 
 on Jehovah his Strength, he planted the standard 
 of evangelical truth there, and cafled aloud upon 
 those who were willing to appear as soldiers of the 
 cross to rally around it. Though his doctrines 
 found no favor with the multitude, there was an at- 
 traction in his eloquence which it was not easy to 
 resist ; and there were some who came to scoflT, 
 and others who came to admire, that went away to 
 pray. It was an enterprise of fearful hazard and 
 responsibility which he undertook ; — an enterprise 
 that drew towards him the anxious eye of many a 
 friend of Zion, and that drew upon him the bitte- 
 rest obloquy of many an enemy of the cross ; and 
 though, in its progress, he seems sometimes to have 
 become well-nigh discouraged, and to have imagined 
 
AND INFLUENCE. 269 
 
 that he was spending his strength for naught, yet he 
 was really laying broad and deep the foundation of 
 one of Zion's noblest watch towers ; and those only 
 who remember the religious state of the metropolis 
 of New-England previous to 1809, and are familiar 
 with it now, can form an adequate estimate of the 
 importance of his labors. At a later period he be- 
 came president of Williams college, just in time to 
 save it, by his persevering efforts, from extinction, 
 and to raise it to the highly respectable standing 
 which it now holds ; and here for fifteen years his 
 ruling religious passion had full scope in the oppor- 
 tunity he enjoyed of endeavoring to bring as many 
 as possible of the rising generation into the service 
 of Christ and his church. And after his bodily 
 energies began to fail, and his gigantic frame to 
 totter, there was a moral sublimity in that provi- 
 dence which carried him back to die on the spot 
 which was most endeared to him, with his entire 
 family once more gathered around him, and in 
 the midst of a community to a large part of which 
 he had been united in one of the tenderest relations. 
 Here he passed his last days, with the simplicity 
 and dignity of a patriarch ; blessing those whom he 
 had baptized, and administering counsel, consola- 
 tion, warning, to those around him, as God gave 
 him opportunity. In the last months of his life es- 
 pecially, all who visited him were deeply impressed 
 with the tenderness and the heavenliness of his spi- 
 rit, and felt that he had nearly reached the gate of 
 that world where the everlasting employment is 
 thanksgiving and praise. And the same gracious 
 
270 HIS CHARACTER AND INFLUENCE. 
 
 providence that gave such serenity to his last days, 
 kept him tranquil and fearless in the dark valley. 
 Jesus and his salvation v^^ere the burden of his 
 thoughts, — the theme of his praises, so long as his 
 tongue could move ; and death did its work so 
 gently, that when the breath was gone, it was not 
 easy to realize that he had been in the hands of 
 an enemy. Thrice honored father, while we che- 
 rish thy memory and embalm thy virtues, we will 
 bless the God of nature for endowing thee with such 
 noble powers, and the God of grace for sanctifying 
 and directing them, and the God of providence for 
 placing thee in a field where thou couldst labor so 
 effectually for the salvation of men and thy Re- 
 deemer's honor ! 
 

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