THE COMPLETE WORKS OF EDWARD PAYSON, D. D. . - l - 5 -:: i'!,'.VTF''-i.'..T'-.' 7,X1r. Z.5.<1:_./73Z tl-lylr2avr M Ei3 0 I, SELECT THOUGHTS A N D AND:S E R-~[ 0 N S SERMONS OF THE LATE REV. EDWARD PAYSON. D. D. PASTCR OF THE SECOND CHURCH IN PORTLAND. BBNE CRASSA EST B3E N S TU D U IS.-LUTHE, COMPILED) BY REV. ASA CUMMINGS, EDITOR OF THE CHRISTIAN MIRROR. IN THREE VOLUMES.-VOL. I. PH1ILADELPHIA: PUBLISHED BY J. L. GIHON, NO. 409 CHESTNUT STREET. 185 8. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year of our lord 184& tY HYDE, 1.ODlD & DUREN, In the Clerk's OCfice of the flstrict Court of Maine. INTROD UCTORY NOTICE. THE essential principle, the life-giving point of Christianity, is JEsus CHRIST. AS to spiritual religion, the religion of the heart, " Christ is all and in all." COL. III. 11. The power which the Christian religion exerts, is the power of a personal affection-personal affection for an object the most elevated and admirable, "the chief among ten thousand, the one altogether lovely." There is no posrer on earth to be compared, in its absorbing and transforming influences, with the power of personal affection, as we see in the attachment between husband and wife and the mutual love of parent and child. Take away or diminish by any means this personal affection and veneration for Christ, and the transforming efficacy of the gospel is gone. The object of the Christian religion is to reproduce, in men, "the same mind which was also in Christ Jesus,"-on a smaller scale indeed, but with every lineament distinctly developed, and all in due proportion; and this transformation is produced in concurrence with the actings of a personal affection, by the steady contemplating and admiring of the moral glory of Christ. "We all with open (unveiled) face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image fiom glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord." 2 COR. inI. 18. The Christians of whom we read in the New Testament, were able to live the Christian life, amid all the bitter trials and cruel persecutions to which they were subjected, mainly by the personal influence of Jesus Christ over them. They "considered him who endured such contradictions of sinners against himself, lest they should become weary and faint in their minds." HEB. xII. 3. In discouragement they remembered the miracles, the transfiguration, the ascension; in sorrow and suffering they called to mind Gethsemnane and Gabbatha and Calvary; in sharp conflicts and wrestlings they reflected on the scene in which Jesus said: " Now is my soul troubled, and what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour? But for this cause came I unto this hour-Father glorify thy name." JOHN XTI. 27, 28. And thus were they able to endure. His absence from earth did not in the least diminish the power of his persona influence over them. Says the apostle who once denied him, " Whom X1V INTROD UCTORY NOTICE having not seen ye love, in whom though now ye see him not, yet lelieving, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory; receiving the end of your faith, even the salvation of your souls." 1 PETER 1. 8, 9. And says the other apostle who never left his side but stood by him to the last: " That which was firon the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon and our hands have handled of the word of life; --— declare we unto you, that ye also may have fellowship with us-and - that your joy may be full." I JoHN i. 1-4. Christ himself assured them that his personal influence, so far from being dimlinished by his absence, would actually be increased by it. "'Nevertheless I tell you the truth, it is expedient for you that I go away; for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come; but if I depart, I will send him unto you. He shall receive of mine and shall show it unto you." JonN xvi. 7, 14. These assurances are not confined to the apostles; they are intended for all believers. "If any man love me, he will keep my words, and my Father will love nim, and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him." JOHN xiv. 23, compare xvii. 20. 21 and REv. III. 20. "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and to-day and forever." HIEB. xiI. 8; and if these promises were ever realized, they can be realized now-if they are phantoms now, they were always phantoms, and Christ was a deluder when he said, "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you, not as the world giveth, give I unto you." JOHN xiv. 27. If it was ever the duty and privilege of Christians to live in a state of joyous, uninterrupted confidence in Christ and conscious personal affection towards him, it is their duty and privilege to do so now; and if professors of religion generally are far away from this state of mind, it is only because they are generally far away from Christ their Saviour. DR. EDWARD PAYSON had a living consciousness of these truths beyond what is common even to Christian ministers. In his preaching, in his conversation, and above all, in his prayers, there was a glowing, ardent, allabsorbing personal sympathy with Christ, such as broke forth with so splendid imagery in the last words of his dying testimony. No one can form an adequate conception of what he was from any of the productions of his pen. Admirable as his written sermons are, his extempore prayers and the gush ings of his heart in familiar talk were altogether higher and more touching than any thing he ever wrote. It was my custom to close my eyes when he began to pray, and it was always a letting down, a sort of rude fall, to open them again when he had concluded, and find myself still on the earth. His prayers always took my spirit into the immediate presence of Christ, amid the glories of the spiritual world; and to look round again on this familiar and comparatively misty earth, was almost painful. At every prayer I heard him offer, during the seven years in which he was my spiritual guide, I never ceased to feel new astonishment, at the wonderful variety and depth and richness and even novelty of feeling and expression which were poured forth. This was a feeling with which every hearer sympathized, and it is a fact well known, that Christians trained under his influence were generally remarkable for their devotional habits. For the satisfaction of those who were not personally acquainted with Dr INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. XV Ptyvson, I will endeavor to indicate, in a few words, what appeared to me to be tile originaii elements of his character. He had a spontaneous intellectual activity, so that his mind was alway, hard at work, and would no more be still than the engine when the steam is on. He could never rest satisfied with the passive reception of ideas that floated in from without, which make up almost the whole current of thought in ordinary men, but was continually forming them into new combinations of l'is own. Hence, though an acute and accurate observer of all that was passing around him and possessing in an unusual degree those sympathies which bind man to his fellow man,- he sometimes appeared abstracted and absent, because he was busied in working up the materials which lay beibre hin-; and sometimes he seemed cold and reserved, because his sympathies were absorbed in ideals, fiom which they could not be detached without rending. From this source also arose the melancholy which sometimes settled upon him. With a mind too inventive to be contented with common objects of thought, and with sensibilities too acute to cling to the world around him, unless engrossed by some great object of pursuit, his soul turned inward and preyed upon itself. This was the case in childhood and early youth, before his mind was absorbed by any prominent object; and so it was in after life, when exhausted by labor and during the transition from one intellectual effort to another. The same characteristic explains the rapidity with which he made acquisitions, the avidity with which he devoured books, the thorough knowledge which he seemed to possess, after a brief observation, of a man's character and intentions. Another original element of Dr. Payson's character was the liveliness and never fililing exuberance of his fancy. There was no end to the illustrations and images which sparkled from him in the pulpit, and still more in the domestic circle; they were always appropriate and in good taste, and though strikingly original, they seldom had the appearance of oddness or grotesqueness. His powers of conversation were unrivalled; his thoughts flew fiom him in every variety of beauty and harmony, like birds from the aviary of Eden before the fall. As Ben Johnson said of Shakespeare: "IIe had an excellent fancy, brave notions, and gentle expressions, wherein he flowed with such facility that sometimes it was necessary that he should be stopped!" A third originail element of his character was a prodigious energy of feeling, which impelled him through every obstacle to the accomplishment of an important object. So strong were his feelings, that for the time they would give 1he vigor of a giant to a body prostrated by disease and lassitude; however great the difficulties which lay in his way, he would scarcely seem conscious of their existence till the work was done; and it was never till after the victery was gained, that he felt the wounds he had received in the conflict. It was this energy of feeling which nerved him to such astonishing pulpit exertions after a week of severe illness and total prostration; it was this that urged him to those constant efforts which at length deranged the physical XVI INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. organization and occasioned him such terrible sufferings the latter part of his life. His affections were exceedingly deep and rich —his love was the love of an angel, and the glow of his dark piercing eye seemed sometimes to flash with the emotions of a soul that belonged to a higher order of beings, a soul with which Christ had so long been in communion, that he had transformed it to his own likeness, as the Persian rose imparts its fragrance to the humble plant which grow by its side. The principal errors of Dr. Payson's career, (fbr like all other men he had his failings) and even his early death may be ascribed mainly to his want of an appreciation of the influence of the physical organizatiop upon the mind, and of the mind upon the physical organization. He knew it well enough in theory, but he did not sufficiently apply his knowledge to practice in his own case. Notwithstanding the good motives with which he acted, and his eminent devotedness and usefulness, God did not turn aside the laws of nature in his favor, but let them go on with crushing regularity. He told me on his death bed, that in this respect he had erred, in keeping his mind and feelings in constant tension, as if the mind were of no account in the struggle; and he hoped the next generation of ministers would be wiser in this than he had been. He never favored himself. Whatever he did, he did by "a dead lift;" and he continued lifting all the while there was any thing to be lifted; as if he must never rest till he was in his grave. And the weights which he took upon himself and kept upon himself without relief, sunk him to the tomb before his time. Much if not all the spiritual darkness under which he occasionally suffered, was the physical action of a nervous system overworked; and the painful paralysis with which he died was the extreme exhaustion of a naturally strong body perpetually driven by a stronger mind which allowed it no repose. We can almost say, that he gave to his people his flesh to eat and his blood to drink, till it was all gone; and they in return gave back gratitude as warm, and mourning as poignant, as ever a dying pastor received fiom his surviving flock. C. E. STOWE. WALNUT HILLS, CINCINNATTI. PREFACE. THE publications from Dr. Payson's pen have been chiefly posthumous. Three Sermons only, and an Address to Seamen, were printed in his life-time. Besides these, no other productions of his were written with the remotest reference to je press. They are just such as he was accustomed to prepare and preach, at the rate of three a week, for most of the time during a ministry of twenty years. Within a few months of Dr. Payson's decease, which occurred in the autunm of 1827, a volume of his Sermons, in the octavo form, was published; two years later, a Memoir of his Life; afterwards a second volume of Sermons, in a form and at a price to render its acquisition generally available;.ater still, a smaller volume, entitled Family Sermons; and near the same time, a miniature volume of his " Thoughts," collected and prepared for the press by his daughter, since Mrs. Hopkins, which has passed through successive editions, and been much valued by devout readers. The original Memoir was frequently re-printed, from stereotype plates, through four or five years from the date of its first appearance, when the plates were destroyed in a calamitous fire. No step was taken to renew them, as it was thought, that the American Tract Society's issues of an abridgment, which had been made as the result of an honorable negociation, might possibly satisfy the public demand. Inquiries for the entire Memoir, as well as for the Sermons, both of which have been long out of print, having become frequent of late, proposals were made by the present publishers for a new emission; and this edition, in three large volumes of uniform size and appearance, is the result The first volume embraces the Memoir, Select Thoughts, and six additional pieces, all of which, except the last, are entirely new to the public, and were' chosen from a mass, as possessing much to interest the Christian reader, and as harmonizing with the preceding portions of the volume. The second and third volumes are occupied exclusively with Sermons, V1 PREFACE. the former is wholly a re-print; the third contains twenty-six new Sermons; numbered 50 to 68, inclusive, 70, 74, 89, 90, 95, 96, 97. Two Sermons, the 49th and 94th, were originally published singly, and now, for the first time, take their place in a volume. In the first and third volumes will be found matter equivalent to thirty-one Sermons, never before printed, much of it riot inferior to Dr. Payson's most valued productions,- glowing with the same pious zeal and earnest eloquence, in defence of God's truth, and in the enforcement of human duty, and distinguished by the same vivid and forcible illustration. The introductory notice, by Professor Stowe, whose 0oirllr relations to Dr. Payson were pre-eminently favorable to a just appreciation of his qualities, renders any attempt to characterize the Sermons, in this place, wholly unnecessary. The reader will observe, that sentences and passages taken from the Scriptures are, in these Sermons, rarely distinguished by quotation marks. Such a mode of distinguishing them was soon found to be unnecgsary, as Dr. Payson's mannei of introducing quotations from the Bible indicates their source with nearly the same certainty and precision as the ordinary sign. The essential characteristics of the Memoir remain, as at first presented. The feature most obnoxious to censure is its melancholy. From the detail of desponding feelings, dtoubts and temptations, unhappy consequences to the reader were apprehended and predicted by persons whose judgment was entitled to respect; but these could not have been wholly concealed, without the sacrifice of historical verity. Besides, we are liable to err in judging, a priori, of such writings. Dr. Payson, contrary to maternal fears, was relieved, comforted, and instructed, by reading of the melancholy workings of Cowper's mind, ashave been many persons by reading those of Payson's. A number of remarkable instances of' such relief have come to the editor's knowledge; among them that of a totally disheartened minister of the gost:el. 1He had renounced his work in despair, and, as he thought, forever; but was re-animated, and recalled to the active duties of his office by reading of the despondency and struggles of Payson's mind, over which grace caused himn at length to triumph. lWe should suppose, that such desponding, and, it might almost be said, deistical sentiments, as are recorded in the first part of the seventy-third psalm, would be very injurious to the reader; whereas their real effect is to give force, impressiveness and beauty to the language which fbllows, so inimitably expressive of strong faith in God, and confidence in his providential government, In like manner, should the reader feel oppressed by the distressing exercises which are detailed in some of the followltmg chpTters, let himt glance, for a moment, to their issue, and find relief hi contemplating the triumphs of Payson's later days. PREFACE. VII Further; it may appear on reflection, that there could be no adequate exhibition of the degree of Dr. Payson's piety, without a corresponding exhibition of the obstacles against which he had to contend. That he did triumphantly surmount them all, is a fact full of encouragement to the tempted, desponding Christian. Indeed, it strips persons of this description of their last excuse for not persevering and rising superior to all difficulties; for where is the individual, whose constitutional hinderances to a peaceful and constant progress in piety are more hard to be vanquished, or more aggravated by bodily maladies? Who then can succumb, since he has come off victor? It may also deserve consideration, whether the development of sorrows and depressions, as given in the former part of this volume, is not, on the whole, necessary to "justify the ways of God to men;" whether it is not in agreement with the laws which God observes in the arrangements of his providence Epd in the dispensations of his grace, that attainments should bear a due proportion to the efforts by which they were acquired; that conflict should precede victory; that they who would "reap in joy" should "sow in tears?" Now, it is well known that Dr. Payson's attainments in religion were far above the ordinary standard; his spiritual joys transcended, possibly, those of any other tenant of earth. Let the the reader, after having examined his history throughout, say whether the " seed" is disproportionate to the "fruit." It does not affect this argument, that many of the exercises and afections, of which he was the subject, have no necessary connexion with religion. Some of them, it will be seen in the progress of the work, have been laid out of the account, in estimating his personal religion. They are too plainly and too bitterly characterized by himself, to be mistaken for objects of rational or pious desire. Still, however, where they have not a criminal origin, they may properly be ranked with other afflictions, which although not good in themselves, are often known to " work out the peaceable fruits of righteousness." The suggestion has also occurred, whether the records which have been transferred to the following pages were not specially furnished by Providence to meet an existing exigency of the Christian Church. The great enterprises in which she is engaged, necessarily modify the instructions of her teachers, as well as the duties of her members. They are constantly exhorted to action, as indeed they should be. It is an active, not a contemplative age. The business of Christians is, in fact, without, among their fellow creatures; not within, in communion with their own hearts. These circumstances, conspirirlg wvith m:li's natural aversion to self examination, and the plaralmont Vill PR EFACE. difficulty of tle duty, may bring on a deplorable inattention to the heart; they certainly will, if relative duties be regarded as a substitute for private devotion. The Church should look to it, that the springs of holy action be not dried up. The benevolent operations of the age were set in motion by men of such deep and heart-pervading piety as Payson's. Such piety must continue to urge them onward, or their movements will be sluggish and inefficient. The two classes of duties will here be seen to have received merited attention, and their reciprocal influence will be scarcely less obvious. In executing his extremely delicate and responsible task, the compiler has had occasion to feel the value of the counsel and the promise, which are addressed to those who "lack wisdom;" and can take no piaise to himself, that his errors of judgment have not been more numerous and more flagrant. May God attend the perusal of these volumes, notwithstanding editorial imperfections, with his uracious benediction. CONTENTS. PAGE. CHAPTER I. Uses of religious biography. Birth of Edward Payson. His early impressions; intellectual qualities; filial and fraternal conduct; moral character. His literary education; enters Harvard College; his reputation there. - - 13 CHAPTER II. Comprising a period of three years from the time of his leaving college. 25 CHAPTER III. His religious history during the period embraced in the preceding chapter. 42 CHAPTER IV. Retires to Rindge, and devotes himself exclusively to his preparation for the ministry. - 73 CHAPTER V. His state of mind in the immediate prospect of the ministry. - 94 CHAPTER VI. His first efforts as a preacher. His religious character further developed. 106 CHAPTER VII. Visits Portland, -his favorable reception, and Ordination. - - - 124 CHAPTER VIII. His concern for his flock. Reverse in his temporal prospects. Is taken from his work by sickness. - - 140 CHAPTER IX. Resumes his pastoral labors. Letters. Review of the year. 154 X CONTENTS. CHAPTER X. His dependence on God; its influence on himself and church. His uniform purpose to know nothing save Jesus Christ and Him crucified. Illustration. Letters. Resolutions. Increased success. - - 170 CHAPTER XI. Permanency and strength of maternal influence. Correspondence. Death-bed anguish, how alleviated. Disgraceful incident. Price of popularity. Reasons of former trials developed. Letters, &c. - - - 189 CHAPTER XII. Holy aspirations. Gratitude to the Saviour. Multiplied labors. Novel family scene. Danger averted. "Curious framie." Flattery deprecated. His marriage. Becomes sole pastor of the church. Retrospect of tlhe year.. - 202 CHAPTER XIII. Forms of prayer. Thoughts on public prayer. His sincerity. The importance of this quality to a minister's success... 20 CHAPTER XIV. The pastor in action. Methods of exciting, sustaining and extending a due interest in religious concerns. Preaching, administration of ordinances, church fast, conference, inquiry meetings. - - 243 CHAPTER XV. The same subject. Bible class. Pastoral visits. Social parties. Special and casual interviews. Charm of his conversation. Singular rencounter. Whence his competency. His publications. - 274 CHAPTER XVI. His exertions without the bounds of his parish. Influence on his ministerial associates; in resuscitating and edifying other churches. Visits "The Springs." Effect of his example, conversation, and prayers on other visitors. Excursions in behalf of charitable societies. Translation of ministers. He is invited to Boston and New York. - - - 29 CHAPTER XVII. Letters to persons in various circumstances and states of mind. - - 308 CHAPTER XVIII. His private character. His affections and demeanor as a husband, father, master, friend. His gratitude, economy, generosity. His temper of mind under injuries - *..:337 CONTENTS. XI CHAPTER XIX. Further particulars relating to his personal history, and religious exercises, in connexion with his pastoral labors and their results. - - - - 354 CHAPTER XX. His last labors. His spiritual joys, heavenly counsels, and brightening intellect, during the progress of his disease. His triumphant exit. Conclusion. - - - 394 SELECT THOU GHTS. God,.. 459 Eternity of God, - - -... - - 460 Love of God,.- - ----- 460 Wisdom of God,. -—.-. - 461 Living to God, - - - - - - 461 Can Creatures glorify God? -- - -. 462 Reverence for God, - - - 462 Duty of loving God,. — - —. 463 Preferring Creatures to God, - - --—.. 464 Excellence of God, -.-. - - 464 Submission to God,..- -. 465 Necessity of Submission, - - - - - 4G7 Sin of Unbelief, - -.... 46S Human Depravity, - - -469 Robbing God,.-.... -470 Love of the World, - - - - - - - 470 Neglect of the Bible, - - -..471 Neglect of Prayer, -.... 471 Forbearance of God,. —----- 472 Man's Dependence, -- - - -- ~ 473 To the Impenitent, -. -. 474 God angry with Sinners, ------ 475 Motives to Repentance,. - - - - - - 476 Objections answered,... —. - 477 Folly of Objectors,.. — -.. 47S Insufficiency of Reason, - - -. 479 Natural Religion, - -- - - - -'480 Folly of Objectors, - - -. - - - - 481 Punishment of Sinners, - ~ ~ ~~ 482 No Peace to Sinners, - 483 Sinners' Thoughts painful, -- - 483 Saint's Armor, - 484 Grounds of false Peace, - -- - - - 485 Conscience,.-. 485 A wounded Spirit, - - - - - 486 Unwillingness to be saved,.... 488 Excuses answered,....-.. 488 Peace in believing,..... 489 .X>II CO CONTENTS. Effects of Conversion, - 491 The Self-confident, - -- 493 Christians dissimilar, - - -.- 493 Tests of Piety,...... - 494 Fear and Hope, - -.. 495 The Law honored, - 496 Adam our Representative, - - - -- - 498 Christ bore our Sins, - - - - -. 498 Psalm lxxxv. 10,,,- - - - - 499 Grounds of Pardon, - * - 5-00 Plan of Redemption, -- - - - 500) The World without Christ, -- - - - -- 502 The Gospel glad Tidings, - - - - - - - - 503 Christ our Example, -.... 504 Christ a Teacher, -----—.. 504 Reasons for loving Christ, - - - - - -a 505 Christ the best Friend, - - - - - - - 506 Invitations of Christ, - - - - - - - 506 Christ's Displeasure at Sin, - -. 507 Death of Christ, --- - -. 508 Sufferings of Christ, - -- 508 Love of Christ, - 509 Self-denial of Christ, -- - -. 510 Christ's Reward, - --- -.- 511 Condescension of Christ, - - - - 512 Language of Penitence, - - - -- 513 Communion with God, - - 515 Call to Christians, - - - - - - - - 516 Union with Christ, - -.... 518 The Christian's Consolation, -- - - - - 519 Christ unchangeable, -- - - - -- 522 Christ a Helper, -.,, 523 My Beloved is mine, - - - - 54 The Bible entirely practical, ----- - - 524 Duty of studying the Bible, - - - -.. 524 Prayer, --- 525 Praise, ------ - - 526 The Lord's Supper, ----—. 527 Relative Duties of Christians, - - - -. 528 Love one another, - - 529 Universal Law of Benevolence, -.... 530 Duties to the Heathen, -- 530 Religious Consistency, - - - 531 Christ glorified in his Church, -. - 533 Miscellaneous Directions to Christians, -. 534 The Way to cure a Covetous Spirit, -. 534 O. Death! where is thy Sting? - -.535 To the Ministers of Christ,.- -- 536 Happiness of Heaven, - - 537 CONTENTS. XIII A Jewel for your Crown. - - - 5:9 The Doubting comforted. - - 539 The wounded Dove. - - - 540 CHRISTIAN EXPERIENCE. Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what hle hath done for my soul.-PSALM LXVI. 16. -. 541 BLESSED RECIPROCITY. My Beloved is mine, and I am his.-SONG II. 16. - 552 SEARCHING RETROSPECTION. Now of the things which we have spoken unto you, this is the sum.HEB. vu I. 1. -561 THE NEW JERUSALEM. And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it; for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.REV. xxI. 23. - 5-.... 574 GOD IN THE MIDST OF 1HIS CIURCH. In that day it shall be said to Jerusalem, Fear thou not; and to Zion, Let not thy hands be slack. The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love; he will joy over thee with singing.-Z HEPxHANAH II. 16, 17. - - 587 ADDRESS TO SEAMEN. Delivered before the Portland Marine Bible Society, Oct. 28, 1821. 597 MEMOIR. CHAPTER I. Uses of religious biography. Birth of Edward Payson. His early ifmpressions; intellectual qualities; filial and fraternal conduct; moral character. His literary education; enters Harvard College i his reputation there. EVANGELICAL VIRTUE is best understood, when it is seen embodied, -operating, and yielding its appropriate fruits, in the person of a moral agent. Thus seen, it is also most influential for good. The living evidences of the truth and power of Christianity will sooner silence a caviller, than the best constructed and most labored argument: they are more thoroughly convincing, more practically efficacious. Moral phenomena are witnessed, unlike and infinitely superior to those which result from any other system. Qualities of character display themselves, bearing unequivocal marks of a heavenly origin, and of a heavenly tendency. Hence, the friends of the Redeemer have always esteemed it a no less useful than pleasant service, to preserve and hand down memorials of such as have been eminent for the savor and strength of their piety, the ardor and steadfastness of their devotion, and the abundance and success of their labors in the cause of Christ. Nor does the value of such a memorial depend upon the freedom from imperfection of him whom it commemorates, so much as upon the degree of resistance which he has overcome in his progress towards " the mark of our high 14 MEMOIR OF calling." To secure the object contemplated by such a memorial, it is not necessary to hold up the character as faultless, nor even to magnify its excellencies, or extenuate its defects. A strict adherence to truth, and a just representation of facts, will not only be safest for man, but most effectually exalt the grace of God. That apostle, who labored more abundantly than his fellows, recognises it as among the causes why he had obtained mercy, who was before a blasphemer, and a persecutor, and injurious, that he "might be a pattern to them who should hereafter believe." The heart, alive to its guilt and wretchedness, would sink in everlasting despondency, if it might not revert to the "chief of sinners,' as among the number whom Christ came to save, and who have actually obtained salvation. The discouragements arising from inbred sin, in all its countless varieties of operation, would depress the Christian almost beyond recovery, but for the recorded experience of others, weighed down by the pressure of similar burdens, who finally came off conquerors, "through Him who loved them." From the " great fight of afflictions," which his elder brethren, who have preceded him in the weary pilgrimage, have " endured," and the terrible conflicts with passion and temptation which they have survived, he may learn, that his case is not singular; that, however fiery the trial to which he is subjected, still "no strange thing hath happened unto him." There is no unholy bias of the heart, no easily besetting sin, no violence of passion, no force of temptation, which has not been vanquished by faith in things unseen; and that, too, in circumstances as unfavorable to victory, as any in which men now are, or probably, ever will be placed. Enemies as virulent and formidable as any that lie in wait for our souls, have been successfully resisted, - trials as disheartening, and struggles as desperate, as any that await our faith, have been met, sustained, surmounted by men "of like passions with ourselves." "Out of the depths they cried unto the Lord, and were heard; they overcame through the blood of the Lamb." Nor will the benefit be limited to the fervent believer, in his spiritual conflicts. These monumental records will meet the eye of him, who'has a name to live while he is dead;" and they are adapted, beyond most other means, to break his fatal slumber, to excite salutary apprehensions in his mind, and fasten there the unwelcome, but needful conviction, that he has EDWARD PAYSON. 15'neither part nor lot" in the Christian's inheritance. The marked contrast, which he cannot fail to observe, between the operations of a mind animated by the Spirit, and glowing with the love of God, and those of which he is himself conscious; between the moral achieverments of a man, carried forward by the steady energies of a purifying faith, and the few and sluggish efforts, which fill up his own history,-can hardly fail to reveal him to himself, as one "weighed in the balance and found wanting." He reads of exertions, which lie never put forth; of humiliation and self-denial, which he never practised; of confessions, which his heart never dictated; of exercises, which he never experienced; of hopes and prospects, by, which his own bosom was never gladdened. In the character of the determined Christian, he discerns a renunciation of self, and a godly jealousy over the workings of the heart; naturally deceitful above all things, which are totally at war with his own selfconfidence. He learns, that under all varieties of outward condition, self-mortification is still an eminent characteristic of the follower of Christ; that no man, who warreth, entangleth kimself withl the affairs of this world; that the expectant of the crown of righteousness is no more exempted from the agonizing strife to obtain it, than he was in the days of primitive Christianity. In the modern believer, if his faith be not "dead," you identify the grand features of that religion, which sanctified, controlled, and supported apostles and martyrs. The uses of religious biography extend further still. It is the means, under God, of attaching to the cause of Zion, men of great energy and moral worth,-magnanimous in purpose, wise in counsel, vigorous and persevering in action. In how many, who have done valiantly for the truth, has the flame of holy zeal and enterprise been first kindled at the pages which record the religious experience and evangelical labors of Baxter, Brainerd, Edwards, Maartyn, and others of a kindred spirit,who, but for these memorials, would have been lost to the Church of Christ, and perhaps have become her most determined foes! The " children of this world" understand the influence of such writings, and wisely preserve every thing that is memorable in their heroes, philosophers, poets, and artists, that youth may emulate their enthusiasm, and act over their achievements. And though it may be true, that "modern biography 16 MEMOIR OF has been too busily and curiously employed in enrolling and blazoning names, whlich will scarcely outlive the records of the grave-stone," still "it is not easy to estimate the loss, which is sustained by the Christian community, when an example of eminent sanctity and heroic zeal is defrauded of its just honors, when a living epistle of apostolic piety is suffered to perish: or, to change the figure, when the lamp kindled by a holy life, which might have shone to posterity, is'suffered to go out." If Christians in the ordinary walks of life need the stimulus of such examples, much more does the minister of the cross. He has his full portion in the trials and discouragements, that are common to all believers; and his mind is also familiar with causes for "great heaviness and sorrow of heart," in which they can but feebly sympathize. In addition to his own personal security, he is in a manner responsible for that of his flock. Besides working out his own salvation, the care of others' souls bears upon him with a pressure which none can conceive who has not felt its weight. And when he has toiled long and hard, with little or no visible success, and is tempted to exclaim, "It is a vain thing to serve the Lord!" or, when exhausted by continual labor, and racked by bodily infirmities, he is in danger of regarding himself as exempted from the obligation to make any further exertions; it may preserve him from sinking, and stimulate him to Ilew action, to know that his fellow-laborers in the kingdom and patience of Jesus have then been most singularly blessed, when they thought themselves forsaken: have out of weakness been made strong, and, under the endurance of great physical debility, and the most exquisite mental anguish, gained the most splendid trophies under the Captain of Salvation. Can the " cloud of witnesses " of this description be too much increased for the "consideration' of those, who are " wearied and faint in their minds?" Can any, to whom God affords the opportunity, be excusable in neglecting to erect an additional monument in the " temple of Christianity," and to conduct thither the desponding, though uniformly faithful minister,* where he may behold " the names, and the statues, and the recorded deeds, of the heroes of the church, and the spoils they have won in the battles of the Lord?" It is with such views alone, that the present work is attempted. The hope, that good results will be realized, is not the less E DWA R DA YS 0 N. 17 confident, because the materials to which access has been had, are of the least imposing pretensions. It promises little of incident or ad.venture,-qualities which, with many, constitute the principal attractions of a book. It is the history of a single mind, rather than of a community; of a pastor-whose sphere of labor was chiefly limited to his parochial charge-not a missionary, whose "field is the world," and who has traversed seas and continents, and associated his own history with that of different climates and governments, and opinions. The Christian hero will not here be presented in direct collision with the principalities and powers of this world, whether Pagan or Papal; but in an attitude notless generally instructive-that of one "whose warfare is within;" and who successfully applied the results of his agonizing and joyful experience in training, By every rule Of holy discipline, to glorious war, The sacramental host of God's elect. But he will shine, with the brightness of one who has turned many to righteousness, in that world where the judgment of character, and the estimate of services, are according to truth, and not affected by what is dazzling in the stations or circumstances in which men have acted. EIDWARD PAYSON was born at Rindge, New Hampshire, July 25th, 1783. His father was the Rev. Seth Payson, D. D., pastor of the church in Rindge, a man of piety and public spirit, distinguished as a clergyman, and favorably known as an author. His mother, Grata Payson, was a distant relative of her husband, their lineage, after being traced back a few generations, meeting in the same stock. To the Christian fidelity of these parents there is the fullest testimony in the subsequent and repeated acknowledgments of their son, who habitually attributed his religious hopes, as well as his usefulness in life, under God, to their instructions, example, and prayers-especially those of his mother. She appears to have admitted him to the most intimate, unreserved, and confiding intercourse, which was yet so wisely conducted, as to strengthen rather than diminish his filial reverence; to have cherished a remarkable VOL. I. 3 18 M E M O I R OF inquisitiveness of mind, which early discovered itself in him; and to have patiently heard and replied to the almost endless inquiries, which his early thirst for knowledge led him to propose. His father was not less really and sincerely interested for the welfare of his son; but, from the nature of the relation, and the calls of official duty, his attentions to the early training of the child must have been less frequent, and his instructions have partaken of a more set and formal character. With the mother, however, opportunities were always occurring, and she seems to have been blessed with the faculty and disposition to turn them to the best advantage. Edward's recollections of her extended back to very early childhood; and he has been heard to say, that though she was very solicitous that he might be liberally educated, and receive every accomplishment, which would increase his respectability and influence in the world, yet he could distinctly see, that the supreme, the all-absorbing concern of her soul respecting him, was, that he might become a child of God. This manifested itself in her discipline, her counsels, expostulations, and prayers, which were followed up with a perseverance that nothing could check. And they were not in vain. From the first development of his moral powers, his mind was more or less affected by his condition and prospects as a sinner. It is among the accredited traditions of his family, that he was often known to weep under the preaching of the gospel, when only three years old. About this period, too, he would frequently call his mother to his bed-side to converse on religion, and to answer numerous questions respecting his relations to God and the future world. How long this seriousness continued, or to what interruptions it was subjected, does not clearly appear; nor is much known as to the peculiar character of his exercises at that time. But that they were not mere transient impressions, seems highly probable from the fact, that, in subsequent years, his mother was inclined to the belief, that he was converted in childhood. There was some other cause than maternal partiality for this opinion, as she did not cherish it alone. Besides, his intimate friends have reason for believing, that he never neglected secret prayer while a resident in his father's family. The evidences of his piety, however, were, at this period, far from being conclusive; he, at least, does not appear to have regarded them as such; neither EDWARD PAYSON. 19 were they so regarded by his father, who had earnestly desired to see him a decided follower of the Redeemer, before encbuntering the dangers to religious principle and pure morals, which are sometimes found within the walls of a college. How far those mental qualities, which distinguished Dr. Payson's maturity, were apparent in his early days, cannot now be known; for, though he died comparatively young, his parents had gone before him, and their surviving children were all younger than this son. Strictly speaking, therefore, no companion of his childhood survives. The very few incidents belonging to this period of his history, which have escaped oblivion, though not adequate to satisfy curiosity, are, on the whole, characteristic, and afford undoubted indications, that his well-known decision, enterprise, and perseverance; had dawned even in childhood. That he was a minute observer of nature, and highly susceptible of emotions from the grand and beautiful in the handy works of God, must be obvious to all who have listened to his conversation or his preaching. His taste for the sublime very early discovered itself. During a tempest, he might be seen exposed on the top of the fence, or some other eminence, while the lightnings played and the thunders rolled around him, sitting in delightful composure, and enjoying the sublimity of the scene.s He is said to have manifested an early predilection for arithmetic; and was a tolerable proficient in the art of reading at the Beattie's MINSTREL, it seems, is not a mere creature of the imagination And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb, When all in mist the world below was lost. What dreadful pleasure! there to stand sublime, Like shipwrecked mariner on desert coast, And view th' enormous waste of vapor, tost In billows, lengthening to th' horizon round, Now scooped in gulfs, with mountains now emboss'd! And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound, Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound' In truth, he was a strange and wayward wight, Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene. In darkness and in storm he found delight. * * * *X * * * * 20 MEM 0 OIR OF age of four years-an art, which no man ever employed to better advantage. The surprising quickness, with which he would transfer to his own mind the contents of a book, at a time when a new book was a greater rarity than it now is, threatened to exhaust his sources of information through this medium. All the books in his father's collection, and the "Parish Library," which were of a character suited to his age and attainments, were read before he left the paternal home, and retained with such tenacity of memory, as to be ever after available for illustrating truths, or enlivening and embellishing discourse. It is natural to inquire, whether there was anything in the circumstances of his early youth, which will account for his mental habits, and especially the rapidity of his intellectual operations. A partial answer may be found in the fact, that his time was divided between labor and study. His father, like most ministers of country parishes, derived the means of supporting his family, in part, from a farm, which his sons assisted in cultivating. From his share in these agricultural labors the subject of this Memoir was not exempted, particularly in the "busy seasons" of the year. But, whatever were his employnent, though he appears to have engaged in it with cheerfulness, and to have prosecuted it with fidelity, his thirst for knowledge was the ruling passion of his soul. This he sotught to quench, or rather to cherish, by resorting to his book at every interval from toil, however short, when he tasked his mind to the utmost of its power, intent on making the greatest possible acquisitions in a given time. His mind, though strung up to the highest pitch of exertion at these seasons, suffered no injury thereby, as it was so soon diverted from its employment by a call to the field; and every repetition of the process extended its capability and power. The acquisitions, in this way obtained, furnished materials on which to employ his thoughts while engaged in manual labor, which he would not fail to digest and lay up in store for future use,-a voluntary discipline of most auspicious influence, as it respects the facility of acquiring knowledge, and the power of retaining it. His early literary, as well as moral and religious education, is believed to have been conducted principally by his parents, except the studies preparatory to college, which were pursued, EDWARD PAYSON. 21 in part at least, at the Academy in New Ipswich. His preparatory course was completed before the long and fondly-cherished desires of his father respecting his personal piety were realized. Still the good man could hardly cherish the thought of conferring on his son the advantages of a public education, without an assurance, grounded on evidences of experimental religion, that he would employ his attainments for the best good of his fellow men, and the glory of his Maker. With reference to this essential requisite, he used much earnest expostulation, and even went so far as to say to him, "To give you a liberal education, while destitute of religion, would be like putting a sword into the hands of a mad man." Whether the father was led to adopt such strong language, from having observed in his son the existence of those properties, which, in their future development, were to give him such power over his species, or whether it proceeded merely from anxiety to transfer his own feelings and convictions to the mind of his son —there does not appear to have been, in either the disposition or conduct of the latter, any particular cause for unusual apprehensions respecting him. His filial affection and conduct had been, and ever continued to be, most exemplary, as manifested by his letters when absent, and by his reverence for his parents and cheerful obedience when at home. His fraternal feelings were kind, and his conduct towards his brothers and sisters faithful and affectionate. By them he was greatly beloved, and his vacations, when he should visit home, and mingle again in the domestic circle, were anticipated with delightful interest as the halcyon days of their lives. His moral character comes down to us, even from the first, without a blemish; and, by consent of all, he sustained the reputation of a magnanimous, honorable, generous youth. His father, as is obvious from the event, had formed no peremptory and unalterable purpose to wait for the certain fruits of personal religion, before sending him to college; and the real cause of hesitancy was, probably, the tender age and inexperience of the son. The interval of his detention was a favorable season for the application of religious motives. As such it was improved by this solicitous parent, and not in vain; for his faithful suggestions and appeals were afterwards recalled by the object of his solicitude, with most grateful and impres 22 MEMOIR OF sive interest. Young Payson, though detained from college, was permitted to pursue his studies,-but whether exclusively, or in connexion with other employments, does not appear, till he was fitted to join the Sophomore class; when, all objections being waived, he entered Harvard College, at an advanced standing, at the Commencement in 1800, about the time he completed his seventeenth year. He had now a new ordeal to pass-a severe test for both his talents and character. Many a youth, who was regarded as a prodigy of genius in his native parish, or in a country village, and who anticipated the same eminence at the seat of science, has found himself sadly disappointed, in being obliged to take his rank below mediocrity. Thus it had nearly fared with Payson during the first months of his residence at college-not that he was destiute of real worth: but there were circumstances, which prevented that worth from being appreciated. The first impressions respecting him did him injustice. "You would have taken him," says a classmate, "for an unpolished country lad; exceedingly modest, unassuming, and reserved in his manners. And, as we generally look for a long time at the words and actions of a character through the same medium by which he was first presented to us, his merit was for a long time unknown." This judging from appearances is, perhaps, unavoidable, though often very injurious. In the greenness of his youth, Mr. Payson's modesty might easily be mistaken for bashfulness; as through life he had much of a downcast look, holding his eyes inclined to the earth, except when warmly engaged in conversation; then they would beam most expressively; and when addressing an audience from the pulpit, they would " pry through the portals of the head," and give a thrilling emphasis to the language of his lips. Mr. Payson's classmate, just quoted, and who also occupied the same rooms with him during the whole period of his residence at college, bears decided testimony to the purity of his morals, and the regularity of his habits, as well as other estimable qualities. With his intimate friends, he was social, communicative, and peculiarly interesting and improving, and by those who best knew him, was much beloved. He was distinguished for his industry; his first care always was to get his lesson, which engaged him but a short time, and then he would EDWA RD PAYSON. 23 resume his reading. He was invariably prepared to meet his instructor, prompt in reciting, and seldom committed a mistake. H-lis manner of rehearsing was rapid, his tone of voice low, with a kind of instinctive shrinking from everything which had the appearance of display. Hence, for a full year, his talents and scholarship were underrated by his associates and teachers generally at college; but ":after having been with him a few months, I was convinced that he possessed uncommon mental powers. Others knew not this, because they knew not the man. During the latter part of his collegiate course, as he became more known, he rose rapidly in the estimation of both the government and his classmates, as a young man of correct morals, amiable disposition, and respectable talents." The testimony of another classmate agrees with this as to the general character of the man, but is more discriminating and positive in reference to his merits as a scholar. " The circumstance of joining his class at an advanced standing, combined with his naturally retiring and unobtrusive manners, contributed, probably, to his being so little known to a large portion of his college contemporaries, who seemed scarcely aware that his talents were of that high order, by which he was soon afterwards so eminently distinguished. Yet, even at that early period, he manifested an energy, hardihood, and periseverance of character, which were sure indications of success, in whatever course he might eventually direct his professional pursuits. In the regular course of college studies, pursued at the time of his residence at Cambridge, he maintained the reputation of a respectable scholar in every branch. Intellectual and moral philosophy were more to his taste than physical science; yet he sustained a distinguished rank in the higher branches of the mathematics, as well as natural philosophy and astronomy, at that time so unpopular, and so little understood by a large proportion of the students." This account of his standing as a scholar was the best which could be constructed from the information in the compiler's possession at the time of preparing the first edition of this work; and the account closed with the following remark:'' It is not remembered, that there was any public recognition of distinguished merit in him, at the time he commenced Bachelor of Arts." For this there was a very good reason, for which the writer is indebted 24 M EM OIRi OF to the kindness of the late Rev. Joseph Emerson, himself a distinguished scholar, and eminent teacher, and who was actually the Tutor of Mr. Payson's class, during their Junior and Senior years. Mr. E. without any hesitation assigned Mr. Payson's rank among the first quarter of his class, and sustained his own judgment, by quoting that of another clergyman, whose competency to give an opinion on the question is beyond all dispute. This clergyman, who was also a classmate of Payson, is confident that a forensic disputation, a very honorable part, was assigned to the latter for performance at Commencement, which failed in consequence of the indisposition of his much respected associate, since the Rev. Dr. Mr. E., moreover, thought it injurious to the cause of literary improvement, that the pupilage of such a man as Dr. Payson should be represented as manifesting no more than ordinary scholarship; and not being accordant with fact, the representation is equally injurious to his memory. As far as a pretty extensive observation has enabled me to judge, continues Mr. E., the college-standing of students is, in general, a good index of their respectability the rest of their days. The reputation of being "a great reader," as the phrase is often applied, is a very undesirable distinction; it is one, however, which Mr. Payson bore in common with thousands, who are not the wiser for their reading. His frequent resort to the college library was a theme of raillery with his fellow students, who, at one time, represented him. as having "a machine to turn over the leaves;" and at another, as " having left off taking out books, because he had read all the thousands in the alcoves of old Harvard." Ridicule, in his case, was egregiously misapplied; for, says his constant companion in the study and in the dormitory, "every thing he read, he made his own. He had the strongest and most tenacious memory I ever knew. It is truly astonishing with what rapidity he could read; how soon he could devour a large volume, and yet give the most particular and accurate account of its contents." Testimonies of the same kind might be multiplied, and confirmed by many anecdotes, which to a stranger would appear incredible, illustrating the power of this faculty, and the severity of those tests to which it was subjected. CHAPTER II. Comprising a period of three years from the time of his leaving college. MR. PAYSON was graduated at Harvard University, at the commencement in 1803. Soon after leaving college, he was on recommendation, particularly of Professors Tappan and Pearson, engaged to take charge of the academy then recently established in Portland. He continued in this office for three years, at the close of which he was, by the terms of his contract, at liberty to resign it. Of this liberty his new views of duty, at the time, disposed him to avail himself. An employment, which requires the daily repetition of nearly the same routine of duties, cannot be very prolific in incident, or very favorable to the development of those qualities, which attract the public eye. Nor is it an employment in which real worth is likely to be appreciated, except by a very few; though the subject of this Memoir is not thought to have had any special cause of complaint, as to the estimation in which his services were held. He acquired and sustained a good reputation as an instructor; but from a man possessing his characteristics, something more would naturally be expected. He was certainly endued with a rare faculty for communicating knowledge, and with a power to awaken, and call into action, the mental energies of either youth or manhood. In the existing methods of education, however, there was much to obstruct the exercise of this power. The instructor, who should do much more than follow the order and manner of the text-books then in use, would probably have been regarded as an empiric; besides, the VOL. I. 4 26 MEMOIR OF habits of society were then opposed, more than they have been since, to every thing which bore the appearance of innovation. His native diffidence, also, would have operated as a powerful restraint against venturing on any bold experiments in a sphere of action and duty, in which, judging from the character and attainments of many who had filled it, little improvement was to be expected. At this period, he was but a youth; and it is not to be supposed, that he engaged in the business of instruction, and prosecuted it with that all-absorbing interest and determination of purpose, which distinguished his ministerial career. It is, to say the least, extremely doubtful, whether he had felt the influence on human exertion of that principle, which is indispensable to man's highest achievements-doing call to the glory of God. As it was, he is remembered by surviving pupils with gratitude, respect, and even veneration. He has left, as will be seen, sufficient evidence of his deep solicitude for their moral and religious welfare, from the time at which he was comfortably assured of his own "acceptance in the Beloved." It would seem, from some allusions in his sermons, as well as from hints derived from other sources, that, during the early part of his residence in Portland, he indulged himself in such amusements as were fashionable, or were considered reputable, and that, too, with a gust as exquisite as their most hearty devotee-how frequently, or to what extent, the writer is ignorant. This practice, if it were more than occasional, would indicate a relish for social pleasures, in the usual sense of the expression, which did not long continue; for after his seriousness became habitual, he was averse to going into company, even to a fault. He dreaded an invitation to a social party, though he had reason to expect nothing there directly offensive to religious feelings. But there were companions, whose society he sought, and whose intercourse was so regulated as to subserve mutual improvement. They were select literary friends, some of them his classmates, whose fellowship was in a high degree intimate and endearing. With these he passed many pleasant and profitable hours, and cemented a friendship, which continued till death, and which has been faithfully reciprocated by the surviving members of the little band, and continues to exhibit itself in unfeigned respect for his precious memory. The exercises of EDWARD PAYSON. 27 these meetings were not subjected to any very rigid and formal regulations, such as would have cramped the energies of the mind, or restrained even its wilder sallies. Mutual confidence was the bond of union, which no severity of retort or piquancy of raillery could sunder. Each brought forward the results of his reading or invention, and exercised his powers at discussion or free conversation; and, by this " action of mind upon mind," the most brilliant flashes of wit were often struck from one so full charged, and so quick at combination, as Payson's, to the no small entertainment of his companions. Of these intellectual banquets, his contributions were the most coveted and exquisite portion. But no distance, employment, or friendships, could weaken his attachment to the paternal home, or diminish the strength of his filial love. Some extracts from his letters will now be given, which, while they exhibit the son and the brother in the most amiable light, will serve also to illustrate some if his intellectual qualities. They are addressed to his " ever dear and honored parents." "PORTLAND, MAY 20, 1804. "It is not the least among the distressing circumstances attending the late afflicting dispensation of Providence, that I am unable in person to share in your grief, and alleviate, by filial sympathy and affection, the keenness of your sorrow. I would fain attempt to afford you some consolation; but the only sources, whence it can be derived, are already your own. I can only say for myself-it shall ever be my endeavor, that, so far as my exertions can avail, you shall not feel his loss; and that we, who remain, will strive to fill, by our increased duty, reverence, and affection, the cruel void thus made in your happiness.' "JANUARY 14, 1805. "I congratulate you both on the welcome news, which my sister gave me, of your amended health and spirits. Mine, I feel, flow with double rapidity, since I received her letter. I witness, in fancy, the happiness of home, and long to participate and increase it; but for the present must be content with rejoicing alone. I cannot possibly plead guilty to the charge of'not thinking of home, so often as home does of me.' On the contrary, I believe home has very little due on that score, if we 28 I IE M I IR OF consider the frequency and not the value of the thoughts. But, my dear parents, if a few of those thoughts could be embodied on paper, and sent me, how much more good they would do, and how much more pleasure they would communicate, than if they were to remain in their native place! "I am still without an assistant, and, as the number of students has been increased, my task is very laborious. However, I shall soon be supplied. Just now I was interrupted. It was my assistant. He is young and raw; but so much the better. He will not render me small by comparison. "I had a pleasant vacation. All of my classmates, who are in the district, five in number, met at the house of one of them. The recollection of past scenes was, as Ossian says,'pleasant and mournful to the soul.' There is, however, very little satisfaction in recalling past pleasures to mind that is, what is generally called pleasure." ~ SEPTEMBER 8, 1805. " The distress I felt at parting with you was soon banished by the garrulity of my companion, whose chattering tongue for once afforded me pleasure, and, besides, freed me from the necessity of talking, for which I felt not very well qualified. I once thought it was impossible for my filial affection to be increased; but the kindness which first gave birth to it increases every visit I make, and that must increase it. Were others blessed with friends like mine, how much greater would be the sum of virtue and happiness on earth, than we have reason to fear it is at present. Why cannot other parents learn your art of mixing the friend with the parent? of joining friendship to filial affection, and of conciliating love, without losing respect?-an art of more importance to society and more difficult to learn,-at least, if we may judge by the rareness with which it is found, than any other; and an art, which you, my dear parents, certainly have in perfection. " We had a tolerably pleasant journey, and were received with kindness by Mrs. ~, and with politeness, at least, by the rest of the family. After the others were retired, Col. -- kept me up till past eleven, explaining. as well as I could, the difference between the various sects of religion, especially between Arminians and Calvinists. * * "We had a long passage, but met with no accident, except EDWARD PAYSON. 29 that I carried away my hat-to use a sea-phrase-that is, the wind carried it away, and, there being no one on board that would fit me, I was two days on the water exposed to a burning sun, without shelter; in consequence, my face was scorched pretty severely." " SEPTEMBER 20, 1805. " I sadly suspect that this plan of numbering my epistles will prove your deficiency, and my attention, in a manner very honorable to myself, and not very much so to my good friends at home. This is my fourth, and not one have I received, nor do I expect one this long time. However, I say not this by way of complaint. Your kindness, when I was at home, proved your affection beyond a doubt; and if I should not receive one letter this year, I should have no right to complain. Yet, though not of right, I may of favor entreat for a few occasional tokens of remembrance. I have as yet scarcely recovered from the inflation and pride your goodness occasioned. The attention I received led me to suppose myself a person of no small consequence; however, a month's dieting on cold civility and formal politeness will, I hope, reduce me to my former size. In the mean time, I am convinced that my situation here is not so much worse than any other as I imagined." The following letter describes a scene in a stage-coach. Those who have witnessed the writer's unequalled command of language, and power to accumulate facts and imagery to give it effect, will most readily conceive of the overwhelming torrent of satire, which he must have poured forth on the occasion described. Travellers have often brought themselves into a highly mortifying dilemma by allowing free license to their tongues among strangers. It was happy for the hero in this adventure, that he expended his forces upon a legitimate subject of raillery. " PORTLAND, OCT. 8, 1805. " MY DEAREST FATHER:-In hopes of rescuing you one moment from the crowd of cares and occupations which surround you, I will give you an anecdote of my journey; and if you condescend to smile over it, why, so much the better. When seated in a company of strange phizzes, I immediately set myself to decipher them, and assign a character and occupation to the owner of each. But in the stage which conveyed us to 30 MEMOIR OF B'W@4-, there was one which completely puzzled me. I could think of no employment that would fit it, except that of a i,@**'*' representative, unless it was that of a "'- ~.~^ whose pride, being confined in B. by the pressure of wealth and talents, had now room to expand itself. A certain kind of consequential gravity and pompous solemnity, together with his dress, might perhaps have impressed us with respect, had not a pair of rough, callous hands, with crooked, dirty nails, lessened their effect. During a pause in the conversation, he presented me with a paper, which, on examination, I found to be one of those quack advertisements, which Mr. ^** has honored with his signature. Not suspecting, in the least, that the good gentleman had any concern in the business, and feeling a fine flow of words at hand, I began to entertain my fellow travellers with its numerous beauties of expression, spelling, and grammar. Finding them very attentive, and encouraged by their applause, I next proceeded to utter a most violent philippic against quacks of all denominations, especially those who go about poisoning the ignorant with patent medicines. I could not help observing, however, that my eloquence, while it had a powerful effect on the muscles of the rest of my companions, seemed to be thrown away on this gentleman aforesaid. But concluding that his gravity proceeded from a wish to keep up his dignity, I resolved to conquer it; and commenced a fresh attack, in which, addressing myself entirely to him, I poured forth all the ridicule and abuse which my own imagination could suggest, or memory could supply. But all in vain. The more animated and witty I was, the more doleful he looked, till, having talked myself out of breath, and finding the longitude of his face increase every moment, I desisted, very much mortified that my efforts were so unsuccessful. But, in the midst of my chagrin, the coach stopped, the gentleman alighted, and was welcomed by a little squab wife into a shop decorated with the letters, "' MEDICAL CORDIAL STORE." I afterwards learnt he is the greatest quackmedicine seller in B. Excuse me, my dear father, for this long, dull story. I thought it would be shorter. I feel rather out of tune for embellishing to-day. " We have lately been in a hubbub here about a theatre. After a great deal of dispute, the town voted, to the astonishmenlt of all, that they would not, if they could help it, suffer the E D WA BR D' A Y S O N. P31 establishment of a theatre. One man said, and said publicly, that he considered it as much a duty to carry his children to a play-house, as he did to carry them to meeting, and that they got more good by it. Among the arguments in favor, it was asserted, that, though bad plays were sometimes acted, bad sermons were likewise preached, and that the pulpit ought to be pulled down as much as the theatre.-Adieu, my dear father, and believe me your most affectionate son, EDWARD PAYSON." "OCTOBER 29, 1805. "I must, my dear mother, give you some account of my comforts. In the first place, I have a very handsome chamber, which commands a delightful view of the harbor, and the town, with the adjacent country. This chamber is sacred; for even the master of the house does not enter it without express invitation. At sunrise, a servant comes and lights up a fire, which soon induces me to rise, and I have nothing to do, but sit down to study. When I come from school at night, I find'a fire built, jack and slippers ready, a lamp as soon as it is dark, and filel sufficient for the evening. An agreement with a neighboring bookseller furnishes me with books in plenty and variety. The objection to our meals is, they are too good, and consist of too.great a variety. And what gives a zest to all, without which it would be insipid, is, that I can look round me, and view all these comforts as the effects of infinite, unmerited goodness; of goodness, the operations of which I can trace through all my past life; of goodness, which I humbly hope and trust will continue to bless me, through all my future existence." NOVEMBER 18, 1805. " MY DEAR MOTHER, — last night witnessed a scene, to which I had before been a stranger; it was a death-bed scene. A young gentleman of my acquaintance, and nearly of my own age, had been confined thirty-two days, and I was requested to watch with him; and a more exquisitely distressing task I hope never to undertake. When I went, there was little, if any, hope of his life. His mother-whose favorite he deservedly was —though she is, I believe, a sincere Christian, seemed unable to support the idea of a separation. Fatigue and loss of 32 MEMOIR OF sleep made her lightheaded; and, at times, she raved almost as badly as the patient. His sister, a gay, thoughtless girl, was il a paroxysm of loud and turbulent grief; while a young lady, ~whorn he was expecting to marry, heightened the distress by marks of anguish too strong to be concealed, and which seemed to flow from tenderness equal to any thing I have met with in romance. As I had seen nothing of the kind before, its effects on my feelings were irresistible. The perpetual groans and ravings of the dying-whose head I was for hours obliged to support with one hand, while I wiped off the sweat of death with the other; the inarticulate expressions of anguish, mingled with prayers, of the mother; the loud and bitter lamentations of the sister; the stifled agonies of the young lady, and the cries of the younger branches of the family, (the father was asleep!) formed a combination of sounds which I could scarcely support. Add to this the frightful contortions and apparent agonies of the poor sufferer, with all the symptoms of approaching death. About two o'clock, he died. I then had the no less difficult and painful task of endeavoring to quiet the family. The mother, when convinced he was certainly dead, became composed, and, with much persuasion and some force, was prevailed upon to take her bed, as were the rest of the family, except the young lady.. " I had then to go half a mile for a person to assist in laying out the corpse, in as bitter a storm as ever blew; and, after this was done watched with it the remainder of the night. You will not wonder if I feel, to-day, exhausted in body and liind. Surely there is no torture like seeing distress without the ability of removing it. All day have I heard the dying groans sounding in my ears. I could not have believed it possible, that any thing could take such astonishing hold of the mind; and, unless you can remember the first death you ever witnessed, you can never conceive how it affected me. But, distressing as it was, I would not for any thing have been absent. I hope it will be of service to me. It is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of mirth. Grief has a strong tendency to soften the heart, and dispose it to gratitude and other affections. An instance of this I saw in this family. They are so grateful to me for — don't know what —that they seem unable to thank me enough." EDWARD PAYSON. 33 "JANUARY 25, 1806. I had a letter from **** last evening. He is in the West Indies, and has just recovered from a fever. His letter is more friendly than any I have received, but it is not so serious as I wish. You prophesied, when I was at home, that our fiiendship would not last long; but since it has survived a visit to the Cataract of Niagara, to Saratoga Springs, and a voyage to the West Indies, it is something of a proof that many waters cannot quench, neither floods drown it. " A classmate, who has commenced preaching, called last week to see me. Speaking of an old tutor of ours, a very pious man, who has lately lost a much loved wife, he mentioned a letter written by him while the bell was tolling for her funeral, in which he says,' The bell is now tolling for my wife's funeral; yet I am happy, happy beyond expression.' This my classmate considered as a sure proof of a very weak or very insensible mind. It is needless to add, that he is an Arminian. I daily see more occasion to be convinced, that the Calvinistic scheme is, must be right, but I cannot wonder so few embrace it. So long as the reasonings of the head continue to be influenced by the feelings of the heart, the majority will reject it." " FEBRUARY 9, 1806. "You need be under no apprehension, my dear mother, that my present mode of living will render the manner of living in the most rustic parish disagreeable. On the contrary, I shall be glad of the exchange, as it respects diet; for I find it no easy matter to sit down to a table profusely spread with dainties, and eat no more than nature requires and temperance allows. And I should take infinitely more satisfaction in the conversation of a plain, unlettered Christian, than in the unmeaning tattle of the drawing room, or the flippant vivacity of professed wits. What gives me most uneasiness, and what I fear will always be a thorn in my path, is, too great a thirst for applause. W hen I sit down to write, I perpetually catch myself considering, not what will be most useful, but what will be most likely to gain praise from an audience. If I should be unpopular, it would, I fear, give me more uneasiness than it ought; and if-though I think there is little reason to fear it-I should in any degree be acceptable, what a terrible blaze it would make in my bosom VOL I. 5 34 MEMOIR OF What a temptation this disposition will be to suppress, or lightly touch upon, those doctrines which are most important, because they are disagreeable to most persons! I should at once give up in despair, had I nothing but my own philosophy to depend on; but I hope and trust I shall be enabled to conquer it. "' If you knew the many things which rendered it unlikely that I should continue here half so long as I have, you would join with me in thinking an overruling Providence very visible in the whole affair. With respect to continuing longer, I do not mean to form a single plan on the subject. If I know any thing of my own heart, I can appeal to God as a witness of my earnest desire to be in the situation where he sees best to place me, without any regard to its being agreeable or disagreeable; and he can, and, I doubt not, will, order matters so as to shorten or prolong my stay here as he pleases."' "JANUARY 15, 1806. " If you, my dear Mother, can pick out the meaning in the last page, I shall be glad; for in truth it is but poorly expressed. You must have observed, that my letters are very obscure; that the transitions from one subject to another are rapid and capricious. The reason of this confusion is,-when I sit down to write, forty ideas jump at once, all equally eager to get out, and jostle and incommode each other at such a rate, that not the most proper, but the strongest, escapes first. My mind would fain pour itself all out, at once, on the paper; but, the pen being rather too small a passage, ) * * *~ * * *'-' *> * A *' -'i * *a * * -. S o much by way of apology, by which, as is usually the case with apologies, I have only made bad worse." "APRIL 2, 1806. "MY DEAR MOTHER, -I have just received your last paquet, and am so rejoiced I can hardly sit still enough to write. They were not half long enough to satiate me, and I am more hungry than before. Yesterday, in order to appease my hunger. I read over all the letters I have received this year past, to my great satisfaction. You must not expect method nor legible writing. These qualifications are necessary in a billet of compliments, but in a letter to friends, I despise EDWARD PAYSON. 35 them. However, if my good friends are fond of them, and prefer them to the rapid effusions of affection that will hardly wait the pen's motion, I will soon write a letter that shall be as cold and as splendid as an ice-palace. You may usually observe my hand-writing is much better at the beginning than at the end of my letters; and this happens because I gather warmth as I write. A letter to a friend, written with exact care, is like-' Madam, I hope I have the pleasure of seeing you in very good health,'-addressed to a mother, on meeting her after a year's absence. " I did not recollect, that I made use of a billet to enclose my letters. However, I suppose it did just as well. Pray give my love to Phillips, (with the rest of the dear clan,) and tell him, that, instead of being a sign of poverty, it is the surest way to be rich, to save even the cover of a letter; besides, I have papa's authority for using billets in that way." These extracts show how he appreciated the relations of son and brother, and how just he was to all the claims which these relations involve. His filial affection is among the loveliest traits in his character, and it never suffered any abatement, so long as he had a parent to love. He continued to appropriate, unasked, and of choice, the excess of his earnings above his expenditures, to the use of his parents, till the whole amount expended for his education had been reimbursed. By word and deed, in the thousand ways which affection suggests, he sought their comfort and happiness. It was not till the third year of his residence in Portland, that he made his first appearance before a popular assembly. On the 4th of July, 1806, at the request of the municipal authorities of the town, he pronounced the anniversary oration, a performance which secured him unbounded applause, and which he was solicited, with great earnestness, to allow to be published; but no persuasion could induce him to give a copy. This production is eminently rich in imagery, and generally in sound political views. He shared, with many wise and good men, serious apprehensions for the result of the experiment making in our own country, whether a free government can be perpetuated. Those who recollect the circumstances of our country at that time, well know that there were many reasons 36 ME MOIR OF for doubt; and that, in the view of all, an important crisis was approaching, which will account for, if not justify the coloring in the following picture: " The vessel of our republic, driven by the gales of faction, and hurried still faster by the secret current of luxury and vice, is following the same course, and fast approaching the same rocks, which have proved fatal to so many before us. Already may we hear the roaring of the surge; already do we begin to circle round the vortex which is soon to ingulf us. Yet we see no danger. In vain does experience offer us the wisdom of past ages for our direction: in vain does the genius of history spread her chart, and point out the ruin towards which we are advancing: in vain do the ghosts of departed governments, lingering round the rocks on which they perished, warn us of our approaching fate, and eagerly strive to terrify us from our course. It seems to be an immutable law of our nature, that nations, as well as individuals, shall learn wisdom by no experience but their own. That blind, that accursed infatuation, which ever appears to govern mankind when their most important interests are concerned, leads us, in defiance of reason, experience, and common sense, to flatter ourselves, that the same causes which have proved fatal to all other governments, will lose their pernicious tendency when exerted on our own." Alluding to the reigning policy of our government in relation to commerce, and to a navy as a means of national defence, and classing among its effects the blockade of our ports, the detention of our vessels, and the plundering of our property by every petty freebooter, he thus states the argument by which it had been defended: — " As some consolation under these accumulated evils, we have lately been told, that the United States are a land animal-an elephant, who is resistless on land, but has nothing to do with the dominion or navigation of the sea. Grant that they are so: yet if this elephant can neither cool his burning heat, nor quench his thirst, without losing his proboscis by the jaws of the shark or the tusks of the alligator, what does it avail him, that he is allowed to graze his native plains in safety?'' EDWARD PAYSON. 37 Some of his paragraphs are as significant as they are glowing:" That virtue, both in those who command and those who obey, is absolutely essential to the existence of republics, is a maxim, and a most important one, in political science. Whether we retain a sufficient share of this virtue to promise ourselves a long duration, you, my friends, must decide. But, should the period ever arrive, when luxury and intemperance shall corrupt our towns, while ignorance and vice pervade the country; when the press shall become the common sewer of falsehood and slander; when talents and integrity shall be no recommendation, and open dereliction of all principle no obstacle to preferment; when we shall intrust our liberties to men with whom we should not dare to trust our property; when the chief seats of honor and responsibility in our government shall be filled by characters of whom the most malicious ingenuity can invent nothing worse than the truth; when we shall see the members of our national councils, in defiance of the laws of God and their country, throwing away their lives in defence of reputations, which, if they ever existed, had long been lost; when the slanderers of Washington and the blasphemers of our God shall be thought useful laborers in our political vineyard; when, in fine, we shall see our legislators sacrificing their senses, their reason, their oaths, and their consciences at the altar of party; then we may say, that virtue has departed, and that the end of our liberty draweth nigh." After drawing a most striking and vivid contrast between the circumstances and prospects of the count:ry as they existed at the time, and as they had been at a former period, he proceeds: " The imperfect sketch of our situation, which has just been given, is not drawn for the sake of indulging in idle complaints or querulous declamation; and still less is it intended to lead to a conclusion, that our case is desperate. But it is intended, if there be yet remaining one spark of that spirit, one drop of that blood, which animated and warmed the breasts of our fathers, to rouse it to vigorous and energetic exertions. It is to the want 38 MEMOIR OF of such exertions, that we must ascribe the rapid and alarming spread of disorganizing and demoralizing principles among us; and we can, in fact, blame none but ourselves for the evils we suffer. Had we paid half that attention to the interests of our country and the preservation of liberty, that we have to the calls of indulgence, of pleasure, of avarice, never should we have seen the sun of American glory thus shorn of his beams, and apparently about to set forever. It is true, indeed, that, when aroused by some particularly interesting object, we have started from our slumbers, and seen the fiendlike form of Faction sink beneath our efforts. But no sooner was the object of our exertions accomplished, than we returned to our couches, and while we were exulting in our strength, and rejoicing in our victory, suffered our indefatigable foe to regain all she had lost. It is not sudden and transient efforts, however vigorous and well-directed, that can preserve any state from destruction. There is, in all popular governments, a national tendency to degenerate, as there is in matter to fall; and nothing can counteract this tendency, and the continual endeavor of unprincipled men to increase it, but the most energetic and persevering exertions. On no easier terms can the blessings of freedom be enjoyed; and if we think this price too great, it evinces that we are neither worthy nor capable of enjoying them. " This inexcusable neglect, so fatal to our liberties, and so disgraceful to ourselves, is occasioned, in some measure, by the indulgence of hopes not less dangerous than they are groundless and delusive. We are told, that the torrent of licentiousness, which is rushing in upon us, is not a just cause for alarm; that it will cease of itself, when it has run its career; and that the people, having learned wisdom by experience, will know how to prize the blessings of order, and return with alacrity to their former correct habits. True, it will cease when it has run its career; and so will the conflagration that destroys your dwelling; but will you, therefore, use no endeavors to extinguish it? Beware of indulging any hopes, but those which are founded on exertions. The torrent which approaches us is the overwhelming deluge of Vesuvius or /Etna, which calcines or consumes what it cannot remove, leaves nothing behind it but a black sterility, and renders ages insufficient to repair the havoc of a day. * * *. * * * EDWARD PAYSON. 39 "Away then, with those idle hopes and frivolous excuses, which defraud us of the only moments in which our safety can be secured. Away with that indolence, so unworthy, so inconsistent with the character of freemen. This is the very crisis of our fate. We stand on the extremest verge of safety; a single step may plunge us headlong, never to rise. The immense wheel of revolution may be put in motion by a fly, though it would require more than mortal power to arrest its progress. Those who attempt to check its career must fall the first victims to its ponderous weight; while those only who urge it forward, and rejoice in the horrid devastation it occasions, can be safe. But let us not, therefore, give way to despair. The same maxim, that bids us never presume, teaches us likewise never to despair. By neglecting the first of these precepts, we have begun our ruin; let us not complete it by neglecting the last. Let us endeavor to open those eyes whose sight is not totally extinguished by the virulence of the disease. The bright rays of truth and reason, condensed and reflected from a polished mind, may penetrate ever the shades and mists of ~' e * prejudice. Remember, that, when good is to be promoted, or evil opposed, it is the duty of every individual to conduct as if the whole success of the enterprise depended on himself. Remember, too, that there is no individual so insignificant, that he cannot afford some assistance in the struggle for liberty and order. " But let us be careful, my friends, to engage in this struggle, in a manner, and with arms, worthy of the cause we profess to support. Why should we disgrace that and ourselves, by contending for the most important interests of our country in language fit only for a tenant of Bilingsgate, disputing about the property of a shrimp or an oyster? Why should we quit the high ground of reason and argument, on which we stand, to wrestle with our antagonists in the kennel of scurrility and abuse? * * - Why should we exchange weapons, with which we are certain of victory, for those which our adversaries can wield with equal, and perhaps superior dexterity? =I= * * * * * * "It ought never to be forgotten, that, except in some few instances, where they are inseparable even in idea, it is not men, but principles, we are to attack. Experience has at length, in 40 MEMOIR OF some measure, taught us, what we ought long since to have learned from reason, that, though ridicule can irritate, it cannot convince. On the contrary, it rouses to opposition some of the strongest passions in the human breast; and he must be something different from man, who can be scourged out of any opinion by the lash of personal satire.' - " But all our exertions, however animated by zeal, nerved by energy, and guided by prudence, will be insufficient to restore us to the height from which we have fallen, unless we restore those moral and religious principles, which were formerly our glory, our ornament, and defence. Would you know, my friends, the real source of the calamities we suffer, and the dangers we fear? It is here; we have forsaken the God of our fathers, and therefore all this evil has come upon us. We once gloried in styling ourselves his American Israel; and a similarity' of character and situation gives us a claim to the title. Like them, we have often been delivered by his uplifted hand and his outstretched arm; like them we have experienced his munificence in temporal and spiritual blessings; and, like them, we have repaid his goodness with ingratitude and rebellion. Like them, we have bowed down to the idols of luxury, of ambition, of pleasure and avarice; and as we have copied their idolatry, so, unless Heaven, in undeserved mercy, prevent, we shall soon resemble them in their destruction. It is an immutable truth, that sin is the ruin of any people; and woe to that nation who will not believe it without making the experiment. This experiment, fatal as it must prove, we seem resolved to make. Among us God's laws are disobeyed, his institutions are despised, his Sabbaths are profaned, and his name is blasphemed. And shall he not visit for these things Will he not be avenged on such a nation as this? 7 *: *x "Will any reply, with a sneer, that these observations have been often repeated, and that they have now become trite and old? They are so; * * * * and though this were the ten thousandth repetition, still, if we have not yet reduced them to practice, it is necessary to hear them again and again. Remember, that it is in vain to boast of our patriotism, and make high pretensions to love for our country, while, by our private vices, we are adding to the national debt of iniquity under which she groans, and which must soon plunge her in the gulf EDWAR PAYSO N. 41 of irretrievable ruin. Hear, and remember-that if; in defiance of reason, gratitude, and religion, we still madly persist to follow that path in which we have already made such rapid advances, and to imitate the vices of those nations who have gone before us, as certain as there is a God in heaven, so certainly we shall share their fate. " If, then, you would display true love for your country, and lengthen out the span of her existence, endeavor by precept, but especially by example, to inculcate the principles of order, morality, and religion. Exert your influence to check the progress of luxury, that first, second, and third cause of the ruin of republics; that vampyre, which soothes us into a fatal slumber, while it sucks the life-blood from our veins. Above all, be attentive to the morals of the rising generation, and do not, by neglect and indulgence, nourish the native seeds of vice and faction in their hearts. Let not these counsels be despised, because they are the words of youth and inexperience. When your habitation is in flames, a child may give the alarm, as well as a philosopher." The extracts from this oration have been the more copious, as it is the only considerable production of Dr. Payson, that survives him, whose object was not professedly religious; and because this performance is thought to have had influence in fixing his ultimate destination. This was the commencement of his career, as a public speaker, and probably the only occasion on which he addressed a popular assembly, till he stood forth as the ambassador of Christ. In selecting the passages to be preserved, regard was had not so much to originality nor to brilliancy of imagery, as to the permanent value of the sentiments, and their suitableness to the design of this work. CHAPTER III. His religious history luring the period embraced in the preceding chapter "WHEN did Dr. Payson become religious? —and "What was the character of his religious experience at the time he, embraced the hope of the gospel?" —are questions which have been frequently proposed, but never satisfactorily answered. With respect to them he invariably maintained a reserve, which, to good people, who were over-curious to know, appeared wholly unaccountable. If he ever fully communicated those inward feelings and exercises, which issued in a confirmed hope, it must have been to his parents and sister, who are no longer inhabitants of earth. No solicitations by others could draw from him a particular history of that process, through which he was carried, before he could appropriate the comforting language, "Being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." The compiler of these pages studied his religious history in an inverted order, and being first made acquainted with that part of his experience which belonged to a subsequent period of his life, was ready to account for his reserve on the supposition, that the exercises attending his conversion were of an extraordinary kind; and, if adopted as a standard of religious experience-which, considering the character and station of their subject, and that sort of oracular authority which was connected in many minds with whatever he sanctioned, they could hardly fail to be, to some extent- would occasion much discomfort to real believers, and be far from recommending religion to such as have never yielded themselves to its influence. MEIMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. 43 A. different supposition, however, is more credible, and has something like evidence to support it. It has already been seen, that his mother, who doubtless watched, and "pondered in her heart," every indication of the state of his feelings on this subject, was not without a partial belief, that he was converted in childhood. His room-mate, since a minister of the gospel, thinks that "he experienced religion before entering college, but, owing to his peculiar situation while there, became a backslider." Another classmate, one of the literary associates mentioned in the preceding chapter, whose speculative views of religion are supposed to differ from those of his departed friend, but who has the power to discern, and a heart to appreciate worth, wherever found, has thus expressed himself in relation to these questions: "His theological opinions, during his early consideration of subjects of that nature, were essentially Calvinistic; but his views of the operative power of religious faith upon the heart and life, were materially altered, previous to entering upon the great work which occupied the remainder of his days. The important change took place gradually, not from any sudden or overpowering impressions." With such an origin correspond the earlier fruits and operations of his religion, so far as they can be gathered from writings which he has left behind him. His religion was of a comparatively gentle, unobtrusive, amiable, yet progressive, character, less marked by the extremes of agonizing and triumphant feelings, than it was at a subsequent period-a difference, for which the reader will, in the. sequel, be at no loss to account. From the early part of 1804, religion seems to have been his all-engrossing concern; his attention was then arrested and fixed, so as never afterwards to be diverted, for any length of time,from the subject. Whether he were in an unconverted or backslidden state, he was then roused, as from sleep, to take a solemn view of his relations as an accountable and immortal being. The occasion of this new or revived concern for his soul, was the death of a beloved brother. A letter to his parents, in answer to one which announced the sorrowful tidings, is the earliest production of his pen, which has escaped oblivion, and, on this account alone, will be read with interest. But it has a higher value, as it enables us to date the commencement of his attention to his spiritual interests as far back 44 ME M 0 I 0 F as May 20, 1804,- the time when his letter was dated, and it more than intimates that the subject with him was not new. " My dear mother's fears respecting my attention to religious concerns were, alas! but too well founded. Infatuated by the pleasures and amusements which this place affords, and which took the more powerful hold on my senses from being adorned with a refinement to. which I had before been a stranger, I gradually grew cold and indifferent to religion; and, though I still made attempts to reform, they were too transient to be effectual. " From this careless frame, nothing but a shock like that I have received could have roused me; and though my deceitful heart will, I fear, draw me back again into the snare, as soon as the first impression is worn off, yet I hope, by the assistance of divine grace, that this dispensation will prove of eternal benefit. This is my most earnest prayer, and I know it will be yours. " In reflecting on the ends of divine Providence in this event, I am greatly distressed. To you, my dear parents, it could not be necessary. My sister, as you sometime since informed me, has turned her attention to religion; the other children are too young to receive benefit from it. It remains, then, that I am the Achan, who has drawn this punishment, and occasioned this distress to my friends. My careless, obdurate heart rendered it necessary to punish and humble it: and 0 that the punishment had fallen where it was due! But I can pursue the subject no further." * This date is given, as it appears in Dr. Payson's hand-writing. A correspondent, however, places it a year later. If the date of the brother's death has been preserved on the Family Record, which is altogether probable, to that date this change in his feelings should be referred. It is possible something may have faded fiom the last of the figures denoting the year. It has been stated, on credible authority, that Dr. Payson was so much affected by this bereavement, that he confined himself to his chamber for three days; and that, previously to this period, he had purposed to devote himself to the profession of the law. If so, the affliction was no less a mercy to the cnurch than to himself. "God is his own Interpreter." ED W ARD PAYSON. 45 Here is the subdued tone of the penitent,'come to himself, and returning to his Father." Of his progress in piety for the next six months, nothing is known except what may be inferred from a letter dated Dec. 12th of the same year. An extract will show that he was not inattentive to what passed in his own heart, nor without experience in the Christian conflict. "I have nothing but complaints of myself to make, nothing but the same old story of erring and repenting, but never reforming. I fear I am in a sad way. I attend public worship and think of every subject but the proper one; or if, by strong exertions, I fix my attention for a few minutes, I feel an irresistible propensity to criticise the preacher, instead of attending to the instructions; and, notwithstanding a full conviction that this conduct is wrong, I persist in it still. Hence it happens, that the Sabbath, which is so admirably calculated to keep alive a sense of religion, becomes a stumbling-block. The thought of my sinful neglect and inattention so shames and distresses me, that I am unable to approach the throne of grace, through shame. As this, I know, is the fruit of a self-righteous spirit, I strive against it; and, after two or three days, perhaps, am enabled to trust in Christ for the pardon of that and other sins. But. another Sabbath, the same round is repeated. Thus I go on, sinning and humbling myself after long seeking for a proper sense of my sin, then confessing it with contrition and remorse; and, the next moment, even while the joy of obtained pardon and gratitude for divine favor is thrilling in my heart, plunging, on the most trivial temptation, into the same error, whose bitter consequences I had so lately felt. Shame and remorse for the ungrateful returns I have made for the blessings bestowed, prevent secret prayer, frequently for two or three days together, until I can no longer support it; and though I have so often experienced forgiving love, I am too proud to ask for it." A few weeks afterwards, he writes thus: " I feel convinced by experience, that if I relax my exertions for ever so short a time, it will require additional exertions to repair it, and perhaps occasion a week's gloom and despondency; yet the least temptation leads me to do what I feel conscious at the time, I shall 46 MEMOIR OF.severely smart for. In the impracticable attempt to reconcile God and the world, I spend my time very unhappily, neither enjoying the comforts of this world nor of religion. But I have at last determined to renounce the false pleasures for which I pay so dear, and this I should have done long ago, but for the advice and example of some whose judgment I respected." " I have lately been severely tried with doubts and difficulties respecting many parts of Scripture. Reading the other day, I met with this passage,'for his great name's sake.' It was immediately suggested to my mind, that, as the Deity bestowed all his favors on us' for his great name's sake,' we were under no obligations to feel grateful for them. And though my heart assented to the propriety of gratitude, my head would not. In hearing my scholars recite the Greek Testament, I am disturbed by numberless seeming inconsistencies and doubts, which, though they do not shake my belief, render me for a time extremely miserable. I find no relief in these trials from the treatises which have been written in proof of the truth of revelation. It is from a different source that assistance is received.' "APRIL 20, 1805. " MY DEAREST MOTHER: —I have just been perusing something excessively interesting to my feelings. It is a short extract from your journal in my sister's letter. Surely it is my own fault, that I do not resemble Samuel in more instances than one. What a disgrace to me, that, with such rare and inestimable advantages, I have made no greater progress! However, thanks to the fervent, effectual prayers of my righteous parents, and the tender mercies of my God upon me, I have reason to hope, that the pious wishes, breathed over my infant head, are in some measure fulfilled; nor would I exchange the benefits which I have derived from my parents for the inheritance of any monarch * in the universe. *The admirers of Cowper —between whom and the subject of this Memoir there are several strong points of resemblance -will be reminded, at once of those beautiful lines: AIy boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth; But higher far my proud pretensions rise; The son of parents passed into the skies." EDWARD PAYSON. 47 "I feel inclined to hope that I am progressing, though by slow and imperceptible degrees, in the knowledge of divine things. On comparing my former and present views, I find that the latter are much less confused and perplexed; that I have clearer conceptions of my utter inability to take a single step in religion without divine assistance, of the consequent necessity of a Saviour, and of the way of salvation by him. Yet I cannot find that my conduct, my heart or disposition is made better. On the contrary, I fear they are worse than ever." " JUNE 12, 1805. - I find I have beenD iyJing to establish a righteousness of my own, though till lately I thought myself fiee from any such design. Hence arose all that unwillingness to perform the public and private exercises of devotion, which I felt after any neglect of duty. I wanted, forsooth, to be encouraged to hope for an answer of peace, by some merits of my own, and so felt unwilling to approach the throne of grace, when I had been.guilty of any thing which lessened my stock of goodness. In short, it was the same kind of reluctance which I should feel to approach a fellow being whom I had injured. And this, which I now see arose from pride, I fondly thought was the effect of great humility. Finding myself so deceived here, and in numberless other instances, I am utterly at a loss what to do. If I attempt to perform any duty, I am afraid it is only an attempt to build up a fabric of my own; and if I neglect it, the case is still worse. " Since the period of my leaving home for Cambridge, it has appeared the most discouraging circumstance attending the spread of religion, that many who undertake to preach it are so shamefully negligent. Of this, my dear mother, you can form no just idea, unless you have heard them. While their hearers are wishing and longing for spiritual food, they are obliged to rest content with cold, dry lectures on morality, enforced by any motives rather than evangelical. These ministers content themselves, generally, with pruning off some of the most proninent excrescences of vice; they leave the root untouched, and cut oft only the leaves. The more I think of it, the more difficult does the duty appear; and I tremble at the thought of incurring such 48 MEM lOI OF a responsibility. I fear, however, that part of my reluctance arises from an indolent disposition, from an unwillingness to encounter the fatigues, the difficulties and dangers attending the performance of a clergyman's duty. I am afraid of conferring too much with flesh and blood." The next notices which he has left of himself are found in a manuscript volume, written in characters which it has been a long and difficult work to decipher. The following are the first two paragraphs:" JULY 25, 1805. This day,.. ig my twenty-second birth day, I have determined to commence a diary, as a check on the misemployment of time." SAME DATE. "1 Having resolved this day to dedicate myself to my Creator, in a serious and solemn manner, by a written covenant, I took a review of my past life, and of the numerous mercies by which it has been distinguished. Then, with sincerity, as I humbly hope, I took the Lord to be my God, and engaged to love, serve, and obey him. Relying on the assistance of his Holy Spirit, I engaged to take the holy Scriptures as the rule of my conduct, the Lord Jesus Christ to be my Saviour, and the Spirit of all grace and consolation as my Guide and Sanctifier. The vows of God are upon me." Subsequent entries in his diary show an ever-active desire to'pay the vows which his lips had uttered.' He made strenuous efforts to redeem the morning hours from sleep, that he might enjoy an uninterrupted season for reading the Scriptures, and other devotional exercises; and, when he failed of this, he suffered much in consequence, and lamented it with deep feeling. His diligence in business, as well as fervor of spirit, are abundantly apparent from the account which he has given of the employment of every hour, from four in the morning to ten at night. In a letter to his parents, written on this anniversary, he speaks of having already'paid considerable attention to divinity,' and of expecting,'in another year, to commence preaching, if he should feel competent to such an undertaking. ED WARD PAYSON. 49 " PORTLAND, JULY 25, 1805.' MY DEAR PARENTS,-This day, which completes my twentysecond year, renews the remembrance of the numerous claims. your continued care and kindness have on my gratitude and affection. To you, next to my heavenly Father, I owe that I exist, that I am in a situation to support myself, and, what is a still greater obligation, to your admonitions and instructions I am indebted for all the moral and religious impressions which are imprinted in my mind, and which, I hope, under God, will give me reason to love and bless you through eternity. How can I feel sufficient gratitude to the Giver of all good for blessing me with such parents! and how can I thank you sufficiently for all the kindness you have lavished upon me, as yet without return But it shall be the study of my life to show, that I am not utterly devoid of every sentiment of gratitude and duty. Pardon me, my dearest parents, for all the pain, the trouble, and anxiety I have given you, and believe me while I promise never knowingly to be guilty of any thing to increase the uneasiness I have already occasioned you. I consider it as one of my greatest blessings, that I am now in a situation which prevents my being a charge to you, and which, besides, might enable me, in case of misfortune, to repay some small part of the kindness I have received. I, with all I do or may possess, am your property, for you alone put me in a situation to obtain it. And if there be any thing, (as I doubt not there is,) which would contribute to your happiness, in my power to procure for you, I most earnestly entreat you to let me know it; and if I do not, with the utmost pleasure, comply, cast me off as an ungrateful wretch, utterly unworthy of your kindness and affection." Mr. Payson made a public profession of religion September I, S105. He connected himself originally with the church in Rindge, under the pastoral care of his father, while on a visit to his parents during one of his quarterly vacations. Of his exercises in the near prospect of this solemn act, not a memorial remains. The record of them was probably destroyed by himself, as there is a hiatus in his diary from about a month previous to this event till the 19th of January following. It is not an omission, but an obvious mutilation. The only direct VOL I. 7 50 M E M OI R OF allusion to this public dedication of himself to God is in a letter to his mother, written a short time afterwards, in which he says-"-As yet I have no reason to repent of the step I took while at home. On the contrary, I esteem it a great blessing that no obstacles prevented it." He adds, "I have felt wondrous brave and resolute since my return; but I rejoice with trembling. If I know any thing of myself, I shall need pretty severe discipline through life; and I often shrink at the thought of the conflicts that await me, but am encouraged by the promise that my strength shall be equal to my day." Never were apprehensions and hopes more signally realized. He who "tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," however, reserved the bitterest trials for a confirmed state of religious experience, mercifully indulging his servant with the light of his countenance, and a peaceful and happy progress in his pilgrimage, in its earliest stages. Oct. 6th, he writes-"I know it will add to your happiness, my dear mother, to hear that I possess a large quantity of that desirable commodity. Since my return from Rindge, bating a few disagreeable days after parting with my friends, I have hardly known one unhappy moment. The doubts which formerly obscured my mind are dissipated, and I have enjoyed, and do still enjoy, mental peace, and, at times, happiness inexpressible. When I am thus happy, it renders me so benevolent that I want to make every one partake of it, and can hardly forbear preaching to every man I see. At the same time, the thought of what I deserve, compared with what I enjoy, humbles me to the dust; and the lower I get, the more happy do I feel; and then I am so full of gratitude and love, I can hardly support it. My only source of unhappiness, at such times, is the moral certainty that I shall again offend that God. who is so infinitely, so condescendingly kind. This, indeed, seems impossible at the time; it then seems that worldly objects cannot possibly again acquire an undue influence over my mind. - To think that I shall again become cold and inanimate, that I shall again offend and grieve the Holy Spirit, and perhaps be left openly to dishonor the holy name by which T am called-my dear mother, how distressing!" EDWARD PAYSON. 51 "OCTOBER 29. -- "'These worldly comforts are nothing to the serenity zld peace of mind with which I am favored, and the happiness arising from love, gratitude, and confidence. Even contrition and remorse for having slighted so long such infinite and condescending mercy, is not without a pleasing kind of pain. But I know this state of things is too good to continue long; and I hope I shall be enabled to take up with a much smaller number of the comforts of life without murmuring." In a letter, dated November 11th, he says, "The happiness I mentioned in my last, and in which you so kindly participate, I still enjoy, though diminished, in some degree, by an examination I have been making respecting some important but perplexing truths." Some weeks after this he wrote-"I did not intend to say another word about my feelings; but I must, or else cease writing. I am so happy, that I cannot possibly think nor write of any thing else. Such a glorious, beautiful, consistent scheme for the redemption of such miserable wretches! such infinite love and goodness, joined with such wisdom! I would, if possible, raise, my voice so that the whole universe, to its remotest bounds, might hear me, if any language could be found worthy of such a subject. How transporting, and yet how humiliating, are the displays of divine goodness, which at some favored moments, we feel! what happiness in humbling ourselves in the dust, and confessing our sins and unworthiness!" A solicitude for the spiritual welfare of others, which is among the early fruits of experimental religion, and one of the most pleasing evidences of its existence, was, in Mr. Payson, coeval with his profession of the faith and hope of the gospel. Of this his pupils, as was to be expected, were always the most interesting objects.-September 20th, he writes-" Last Saturday, I gave my scholars six questions in the catechism, and a hymn to commit to memory on the Sabbath; and, on Monday morning, after hearing them recite, I lectured them on the subjects about three quarters of an hour. They paid strict atten 52 MEMOIR OF tion. It is, however, discouraging to attempt any thing of this kind, and a most lively faith alone can make it otherwise. Is it not astonishing, that those who have a just sense of the importance of religion are not more earnest in recommending it to others? One would suppose they could hardly refrain from preaching to them in the streets. The reason we do not is, we have not a just sense of it." " OCTOBER 29. "I hope your narrative-for which I thank you-will have a tendency to stir me up. I feel a strong and abiding impression on my mind, that all the good I enjoy my friends were stirred up to pray for; and I hope I and my scholars shall reap the advantage of them in this case. When I look at them, and reflect how many dangers they are exposed to, what bad examples even the parents of many set them, and how few hear any thing like religious instruction, I cannot express my feelings. Lately I feel a great flow of words when addressing them; however, it is just like speaking to dry bones, unless a divine blessing assist. If I could be the means of doing good only to one, what transport! Thank God, it does not depend on the means, but on himself; otherwise I should give up in despair." " JANUARY 15,'1806. "This morning I was highly favored in speaking to my scholars. I spoke nearly three quarters of an hour with some earnestness, though not so much as I could have wished. Except once, I have felt a very considerable share of freedom on these occasions. Your mentioning that. you were enabled to pray for a blessing on these poor endeavors has been a great encouragement to me. They are attentive, and a very perceptible difference has taken place in their attention to their studies. I hope that, sooner or later, they will become attentive to more important pursuits. I am almost afraid to write even to you, my dear mother, on these subjects, lest I should make some gross blunder, through my ignorance and inexperience. I have often observed, that persons who begin to read late in life are apt to think every thing they meet with in books as new to others as it is to them, and so make themselves ridiculous by retailing, as novelty, what every one knew before. In like manner, I am somewhat apprehensive of appearing to you, in EDWARD PAYSON. 53 mentioning my own feelings, as one who is detailing last year's news; for your ideas and feelings must be so far beyond mine, that it will require some patience to read my relations. However, I trust to your goodness, and hope you will remember, that many things, which are now plain and common, were once dark and unusual to you. I am pursuing my studies pretty much at random, having no person to advise with." This anxiety for the souls of his fellow-creatures, marked his intercourse with associates of the same standing with himself. One of his valued companions in literary pursuits has furnished the following extracts: "DECEMBER 2, 1805. " There is no worldly blessing that is not heightened by religion, but none more so than friendship, whether it be between relatives by consanguinity, or those who are joined in marriage, or other friends. The idea of parting must imbitter the pleasure of the man of the world; but the Christian, if he has chosen his friends aright, may hope to enjoy their society with more pleasure hereafter than he can now. For this reason I never should choose a partner for life, whom I could not hope to meet beyond the tomb." " DECEMBER 9. You ascribe, my friend, too much to age and a cultivated mind, when you speak of them as inconsistent with a'stupid blindness respecting futurity.' Sad experience shows that age the most mature, and minds the most cultivated, are too often under the operation of such a blindness. Who, among the walks of science, ambition, avarice, or pleasure, is not blind to his own mortality Who is there that sees, that every hour of his life he infringes that law which says —' cursed is every one that continueth not in all things written therein to do them?' Who sees that his brittle thread of life is all on which he hangs over endless misery, and that, if any one of the many dangers to which he is exposed should be permitted to crush him, he would, in a moment, be the subject of despair? No age, no improvement of the mind, will make us see these truths to be such. We may assent to them, but our conduct shows we do not believe them. You do not yet, my friend, know the difficulty of the task. Consider, first, that the divine law extends 54 MEMOIR OF to the thoughts, and that it makes no allowance for human infirmity, and then shut yourself up alone, out of the reach of temptation, and try for one hour to be innocent, and you will find, by the numberless foolish thoughts and vicious propensities arising in your mind, that it is no easy thing to be negatively good. When, in addition to this, you consider that sins of omission are equally fatal with sins of commission, you must certainly, if you know any thing of your own heart, give up in despair. I write this not to discourage you, but to urge the immediate commencement of a work so difficult and so important; but still more to induce you to apply to One who can give you strength, and will give it, if asked for in a full conviction of your own weakness. You know nothing of your own heart; and, though you may not assent to this now, the time, I hope and trust, will come, when you will assent to it. You may not now believe that naturally, like all others, you are an enemy to God and his goodness-but you must assent to it." " M2AY 8. " Take my word for it, there is inexpressibly more enjoyment in religion, in this life, than the most happy sinner since creation ever had to boast of. It appears gloomy at a distance, but, the nearer it approaches, the more delightful it becomes. You know that I am of a social turn, that I enjoy, or did enjoy, amusements about as well as others did, and that I have no particular reason for flying from them. You know, too, that I love you, and would promote your interest to the extent of my powers. You may then consider me, if you are so disposed, an impartial witness that the ways of Wisdom are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths peace. I hope and believe that your own feelings may attest the truth of my testimony. That you may know more and more of it, is the sincere prayer of your friend." " JULY 7. " I dare pledge any thing most dear to me, that, if you persist in the diligent use of the means suggested, you shall not long use them in vain. But, what is infinitely more to the purpose, you have the oath of him who cannot lie, on which to ground your hopes. You have nothing to do but to ask for faith; to come, as the leper did to our Saviour while on earth, EDWARD PAYSON. 55 and throw yourself at his feet with! Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean;' and rest assured that he will put forth his hand and say-' I will; be thou clean.' He is still as able and as willing, * i *t to grant every request of this nature as he was on earth. If you really feel yourself a sinner, and that you have no power to save yourself, and are willing to accept of him as a Saviour, he is ready to receive you. Do not wait, before you accept his offers, to render yourself worthly of his favor by going about to establish a righteousness of your own. He will not be a half Saviour. He will do all or nothing. If you mean to come to him, you must come as a helpless sinner; not as the Pharisee, with a list of virtuous deeds performed, but as the publican, with-' Lord, be merciful to me a sinner.'" Scarcely two months had elapsed from the time he made a public profession of religion, before Mr. Payson felt his mind embarrassed in relation to the doctrines of the Bible as understood by Calvinists. The first intimation of this perplexity is in the following words: "I have lately read Cole's Discourses. It is a very comfortable doctrine for the elect, but not so for the sinner. My feelings say it is true, but reason wants to put in an oar. It is at once encouraging and discouraging to ministers." He afterwards expresses himself more fully on this subject, and in a manner which shows that he did not take his religion upon trust, but that his subsequent firm adherence to the doctrines of grace was the result of impartial examination. " I mentioned in a former letter that I had been reading Cole. Since that I have studied, with considerable attention, Edwards on the Will, and his treatise on Original Sin. I know not what to do. On one hand, the arguments in favor of Calvinism are strong; and, what is more to the point, I feel that most of them must be true; and yet there are difficulties, strong difficulties, * * * * * * in the way. I careverylittle about them, as it concerns myself; but to think that so many of mankind mlust be miserable, strikes me with disagreeable feelings. I 56 MEMOIR OF wonder not that the unregenerate are so bitterly opposed to thlese doctrines and their professors, nor that they appear to them as the effects of blindness and superstition. Poor Dr. M. is sadly abused on this account, and the most consummate scoundrel in existence could not merit worse epithets than the clergy of - *' e - heap on him. I find, however, that I have much clearer views of the grand scheme of redemption than I had and as it relates to myself, it appears a miracle of love and mercy for which I never can feel, comparatively speaking, any gratitude. But with respect to others, it does not appear altogether so excellent. I cannot, however, complain of any doubts of the truth of these points, more than I have of the truth of the Bible; but I cannot reconcile them. I should make poor work at preaching in my present state of mind, for I could neither advance such doctrines nor let them alone. Thus I am perplexed. I feel that they are true, yet seem to know it is impossible they should be so. I never would meddle with them, were I not, in some measure, obliged to by the profession I have chosen. I almost long for death, that the apparent contradictions may be reconciled." There were practical questions, also, scarcely less embarrassing to his mind, and which it required no small skill in Christian casuistry to determine. On account of his situation, as well as the inexhaustible fund of entertainment which he could carry into company, he was fiequently solicited to make one of a visiting party, and to lingle in society on various occasions. The nature of the trials hence arising, as well as their issue, will be seen from a few extracts: "After long doubting the propriety, and even the lawfilness, of mixing at all in society where duty does not call, and after smarting a number of times for indulging myself in it,-nmore, however, through fear of offending, than for any pleasure I find in it, -I am at length brought to renounce it entirely; and it is not a needless scrupulosity. It does appear a duty to shun all communication with the world, when there is no well-grounded reason to hope to do good. There are, to be sure, many very plausible reasons, but I doubt whether they will bear the test of scripture." EDWARD PAYSON. 57 To one who urged him to go into society and frequent public amusements, he wrote: - "Can a man walk on pitch, and his feet not be defiled? Can a man take coals of fire in his bosom, and his clothes not be burned? If he can, he may then mix freely with the world, and not be contaminated. But I am not the one. who can do it. I cannot think it proper or expedient for a Christian to go into any company, unless necessity calls, where he may, perhaps, hear the name he loves and reverences blasphemed, or at least profaned,-where that book, which he esteems the word of God, will, if mentioned, be alluded to only to waken laughter or'adorn a tale,' -where the laws of good breeding are almost the only laws rwhich may not be broken with impunity, - and where every thing he hears or sees has a strong tendency to extinguish the glow of devotion, and entirely banish seriousness. I speak only for myself. Others may experience no bad effects, but for myself, when I go into company, if it is pleasant and agreeable, it has a tendency only to fix my thoughts on earth, from which it is my duty and my desire to turn therm,-to give me a distaste for serious duties, especially prayer and meditation and to render me desirous of the applause and approbation of those with whom I associate. I cannot avoid feeling some desire for its friendship; and this friendship, the apostle assures us, and my own experience feelingly convinces me, is enmity with God." - "I have at length obtained satisfaction respecting my doubts about society; not, however, till I was brought to give it up. After I had done so, it appeared so plain and proper, that I wondered how a doubt could ever have arisen. on this subject. Now, I shall hardly see a person in a week, except our own family; and I have no doubt of being much happier for it. Two or three plain rules I find of wonderful service in deciding all difficult cases. One is, to do nothing of which I doubt, in any degree, the lawfulness; the second, to consider every thing as unlawful vhnich idisposes me for prayer, and interrupts communion with God; and the third is, never to go into any company, business, or situation, in which I cannot conscientiously ask and expect the divine presence. By the help of these three rules, I settle VOL. I. 8 5S M E MIR OF all my doubts in a trice, and find that many things I have hitherto indulged in, are, if not utterly unlawful, at least inexpedient, and I can renounce them without many sighs." Referring to the dangers inseparable from worldly society, he incidentally mentions one defence against their influence, which was only imaginary:-"I consider it a blessing, or endeavor to do so, that I do not possess those talents for shining in company, which are so apt to lead their possessors into too great a fondness for gay and brilliant society. Yet, I confess, though I'am sensible they would prove a snare to me, I am sometimes tempted to repine at the want of them; and the grant of all my wishes would soon render me the most miserable of beings." The circumstances in which this was written preclude all suspicion of its being the language of affectation. His determination to exclude himself from company was very conscientiously formed; and, so far was he from making his own practice a law for others in this matter, he expressly assigns his " weakness and inexperience" as the reason why he "could not indulge in society without detriment." Besides, situated as he was, he saw "no medium between the life of a hermit and that of a votary of pleasure." If such were the alternative, his decision is to be approved. It resulted from a right application of his " three plain rules," which are certainly scriptural, and worthy of universal adoption. This course was not the fruit of misanthropic feelings; for no man was more susceptible of the delights of friendship, or more highly appreciated its benefits; but how "can two walk together, except they be agreed.?" His heart now sighed for friendships founded on a religious basis. He speaks of " a friend, with whom he could converse on religious subjects, as having long been a desideratum;" and when he thought he had found such a one among his former beloved associates, he expresses the most ardent gratitude to the Giver of every good gift. "I feel a satisfaction," he writes, "on this discovery, similar to what I should feel at meeting a townsman in a desert island. You, who live in the midst of Christian friends, can hardly conceive of it. Associates are pleasant in any pursuit, but especially so in this. l'wo are better than one. We shall together be better able to stand our ground against the assaults of ridicule and reproach; and may animate and encourage each other in our course." EDWARD PAYSON. 59 Having, in a letter to his mother, expressed himself as ready to give almost any thing he possessed for an "experienced friend," he anticipates her reply —"You will say, perhaps, the Bible is a friend, which, if duly consulted, would supersede the necessity of any other adviser. It may be so; but we are apt to be bad commentators, where we are concerned ourselves. A friend can judge of our concerns, and give us better counsel, than, perhaps, he would give himself. We are but poor casuists in our own affairs." Some miscellaneous extracts will now be given. "DECEMBER 8, 1805. " Though I have experienced many and great comforts, yet I am at times almost discouraged. My heart seems to be a soil so bad, that all labor is thrown away upon it; for, instead of growing better, it grows worse. What a wearisome task, or rather conflict, it is, to be always fighting with an enemy, whom no defeats can weaken or tire. I am afraid, that many of my desires to be delivered from his power proceed rather from a sinful impatience, than a better source. But it is most distressing, when favored with manifestations of a Saviour's love, to think we shall again sin against and grieve him; especially, in the sacrament of the supper, the idea that I shall certainly go away and offend him, who is there set forth crucified before me, imbitters all my happiness." " DECEMBER 25. " MY DEAR SISTER:-I am not very prone to indulge the idea, that my happiness can depend on change of place; but when such fancies do gain admittance, home is always the scene of my imaginary bliss. It is, however, a remedy to consider, that, however we may be separated from our friends in this world, yet, if we choose them aright, we may indulge the hope of spending an eternity together in the next. " I have of late taken some pleasure in recollecting the pilgrimages of our old friend Bunyan, and see a striking propriety in many parts of them, which I did not then rightly understand. For some time past I have been with Tender Conscience in the caves of Good Resolution and Contemplation, and, like him, fell into the clutches of Spiritual Pride. It is astonishing, and 60 M EM IR OF what nothing but sad experience could make us believe, that Satan and a corrupt heart should have the art of extracting the most dangerous poison from those things which apparently would, and certainly ought to, have the most beneficial effects. If I do not, after all, fall into the hands of old Carnal Security, I shall have reason to be thankful. There is such a fascination in the magic circle of worldly pleasures and pursuits, as can hardly be conceived without experience; and I am astonished and vexed, to find its influence continually thwarting and hindering me. And so many plausible excuses are perpetually suggesting themselves, that compliance can hardly be avoided." " JANUARY 25. " MlY DEAR MOTHER:-In one of the classics, which form part of my daily occupation, there is an account of a tyrant, who used to torture his subjects, by binding them to dead bodies, and leaving them to perish by an unnatural and painful death. I have often thought the situation of a Christian is, in some respects, like that of these poor wretches. Bound to a loathsome body of sin, from which death alone can fiee him. and obliged daily to experience effects from it not much less painful and displeasing to him, than the stench of a putrefying carcass was to those who were united to it, he must suffer almost continual torment. I have lately felt doubtful how far a due resignation to the divine will obliges us to submit with patience to this most painful of all trials, and since we know that perfection is not granted to any in this world, how far ought we to extend our prayers and wishes. I know there is little danger of being too much engaged in seeking deliverance from sin; but is there no danger of that fretful impatience, which we are apt to feel on other occasions, gaining admittance under the appearance of an earnest desire for holiness? And is not indolence, and a wish to be freed from the necessity of continual watchfulness and conflict, apt to insinuate itself into our desires and petitions for divine assistance? Sin is a sly traitor; and it is but lately I discovered it in my bosom; and now I am so much afraid of it, that I hardly dare ask assistance at all. " For this month past, I have enjoyed very little of that happiness which I once rejoiced in. Yet, blessed be God! I am not left utterly dead and stupid, and am enabled to persevere in EDWARD PAYSON. 61 the use of means, though they seldom seem so productive of peace as they once did. I hope I have clearer ideas of my strong, amazingly strong, propensity to every thing that is evil, and of the infinite and glorious sufficiency of my Saviour, than I had while my joys were greater. Then I was ready to flatter myself that sin was destroyed; but now I find, by sad experience, it is not only alive, but extremely active; and had I not an almighty Helper, I should instantly give up in despair." "PORTLAND, FEB. 9, 1806. " MY DEAR MOTHER:-For many reasons, it is impossible that my letters should be so acceptable at home as those I receive from home are to me. You have friends there, to divide your attention, to participate in your care, and to share and increase your pleasures. But I am alone. All my affections must centre at home, and, consequently, I must feel a greater desire to hear from home, and to receive assurances that I am not forgotten, than my friends can possibly have, to hear from me. " I find nobody, except at times, to whom I can communicate my joys, hopes, desires, and fears; nobody who can participate my pleasures or sympathize in my griefs. It is, perhaps, best for me that it should be so; but it is very unpleasant. Most of my acquaintances consider me, as near as I can guess, but a kind of hypocrite, who must, as a student in divinity, preserve a decent exterior, in order to be respected. However, it is some consolation, that they think the same of every one else. Their opinion is of very trifling consequence. One thing only I wish not to be thought, and that is what is commonly called a rational Christian, an epithet which is very frequently bestowed on young candidates, and which is almost synonymous with no Christian. Liberal divines are pretty much of the same character." PORTLAND, APRIL 1, 1806.'C MY DEAR MOTHER:-I am now entirely alone, and, except a visit once a fortnight from Mr. R., I see no face within my chamber from one week to another. It is sometimes unpleasant, but, I believe, very profitable, to be debarred from society. I am so prone to trust to broken cisterns, that nothing, but theii being out of my reach, can restrain me. When I come home from school, weary and dull, if I had any earthly friends at 62 M E MIO IR F hand, I should certainly apply to them for relief; but, not hav. ing any, I am constrained to go where I am much more sure of finding it. I begin to find, that the smiles with which my early infancy was supported, are changing for the less agreeable, but certainly not less needful, discipline of education; and O what severe discipline, and how much of it, shall I require i I see already, that hard fare and hard labor will be necessary to preserve me from'waxing fat and kicking;' and if it has this effect, I shall welcome it with pleasure. It seems to me one of the worst of the hellish offspring of fallen nature, that it should have such a tendency to pride, and above all, spiritual pride. How many artifices does it contrive to hide itself! If, at any time, I am favored with clearer discoveries of my natural and acquired depravity and hatefulness in the sight of God, and am enabled to mourn over it, in comes Spiritual Pride, with'Ay, this is something like! this is holy mourning for sin; this is true humility.' If I happen to detect and spurn at these thoughts, immediately he changes his battery, and begins:'Another person would have indulged those feelings, and imagined he was really humble, but you know better; you can detect and banish pride at once, as you ought to do.' Thus this hateful enemy continually harasses me. What proof that the heart is the native soil of pride, when it thus contrives to gather strength from those very exercises which one would think must destroy it utterly! " My other chief besetting sin, which will cut out abundance of work for me, is fondness for applause. When I sit down to write, this demon is immediately in the way, prompting to seek for such observations as will be admired, rather than such as will be felt, and have a tendency to do good. My proneness to these two evils, which I have mentioned, makes me think I shall have but little sensible comfort in this world, and that I shall be tried by many and grievous afflictions, in order to keep rne humble and dependent. However, it is of no consequence. I know my great Physician is both able and willing to cure ne, and I leave the manner to him; trusting that he will enable me to take whatever he prescribes, and bless the prescription." EDWARD PA SON. 63 "PORITLAND, JUNE 17, 1806. " MY DEAR MOTHER:-After I have told you that I have been unwell some time past, and that I am now as well as usual, my stock of information is exhausted-unless, indeed, I still make myself the subject; and, for want of a better, I must. Owing partly, I believe, to my ill health, I have been much afflicted with doubt, whether it is not my duty to give up preaching at all. I want, at times, to get as far back into the country as possible, and, on a little farm, lead a life as much remote from observation, as circumstances will allow. It seems to me a little.remarkable, that while I am harassed with doubts and perplexities about every thing else, I feel none, or comparatively none, about my own state. If at any time such doubts intruded, they were banished by that text,' I am he that blotteth out thy transgressions, for mine own sake.' But, lately, the very absence of doubt has caused me to doubt; for if I were a child of God, how should I be free from those doubts which trouble them? But the greatest difficulty of all is, that the certainty which I almost ever feel of my safety, should have no more effect on my disposition and conduct. This seems to me more unaccountable than any thing else; for even the devils, one would think, might and would rejoice to think of approaching happiness. " I have for some time, had something like a desire to become a missionary. I have not mentioned it before, because I doubted whether it would not be only a temporary wish. I should feel less backward to preach to savages, or white men little above savages, than any where else. However, I hope Providence will, some way or other, get me into the place where I shall be most useful, be it what it may. I do not feel very solicitous in Which way or in what situation. "I shall be in Boston about the 23d of August, and, after commencement, set out for Rindge, should nothing prevent. At present, I can write no more. The bearer is booted, whipped, chaired, and waiting. "Present my most affectionate regards to pa. I shall make great encroachments on his time, when I come home. " Your affectionate son, E. PAYSON." A desire to become a missionary, in 1806, was a less dubious 64 MEMO 1R OF proof of expansive Christian benevolence, than it would be at the present day. The obligation of Christians to send the gospel to the heathen could not have been learned from ally t:ling which the American Church was then doing, or had done for a long period. As to any visible movement, she appeared as indifferent to the claims of the unevangelized tribes of men, as though her Redeemer and Lord had not left it in charge, to "preach the gospel to every creature." Mr. Payson was probably ignorant that another youthful bosom in the country panted with the same desire; though it was about this time if not this very year-a coincidence which they who regard the works of the Lord, and the operation of his hands, will notice with pleasure-that Samuel J. Mills felt the desire. and formed the purpose, to devote his life to the service of Christ among the heathen-a purpose, however, which was known, first to his mother, and then to a few individuals only, till about four years afterwards. In the extracts which have been inserted from his letters, the reader has discovered his intimate acquaintance with the subtle workings of the human heart, and his unsleeping vigilance to detect and guard against its impositions. His self-knowledge, and the rigid self-inspection which he habitually maintained; would appear in a still more striking light from his private diary, if that were spread before the public eye. Neither friends nor foes could name a fault in him, which he had not detected, and condemned in terms of unsparing severity. They would find their severest judgments anticipated and they would find too-what the world little suspects of the Christian-that the smallest trespasses were the cause of heart-felt lamentation and grief in those hours of secret retirement, when no eye but Jehovah's was witness to his sorrow. In his example, the young aspirant for fame might see an illustration of the wise man's maxim, " before honor is humility;" and that the surest path to an enduring reputation is found by " asking counsel of God," and "acknowledging him in all our ways." Faithfulness, either to the dead or the living, cannot, however, require, that a very free use should be made of the record of what passed in the inward sanctuary of his soul-a record obviously designed for his private use only, and in characters intended to be illegible by every eye except his own. So much will, nevertheless, be EDWARD PAYSON. 65 inserted, as is necessary to substantiate the representations in this narrative, or disclose important facts in his history, which could be learned from no other source. EXTRACTS FROM HIS DIARY. " FEB. 5, 1806. For this fortnight past, I have enjoyed a tolerable share of assistance, but nothing transporting. Slow progress. " FEB. 7. Little opportunity for prayer in the morning; yet God was pleased not wholly to desert me during the day, and, in the evening, favored me with clearer views of the glorious all-sufficiency of my Saviour, and of my absolute need of him, than I have before experienced. I could, in some measure, feel that my deepest humiliation was rank pride, and all that I am or can do, is sin. Yet, blessed be God, I can plead the sufferings and perfect obedience of Jesus Christ, in whom, though weak in myself I am strong. "FEB. 8. There is no vice, of which I do not see the seeds in myself, and which would bear fruit did not grace prevent. Notwithstanding this, I am perpetually pulling the mote out of ny brother's eye. " FEB. 9. Was much favored in prayer, and still more in reading the Bible. Every word seemed to come home with power. Of late, I have none of those rapturous feelings, which used to be so transporting; but I enjoy a more calm and equable degree of comfort; and, though slowly, yet surely, find myself advancing. " FEB. 11. A very dull day-almost discouraged; yet I hope the experience I gain of my utter inability to think so much as a good thought, will have a tendency to mortify pride. " FEB. 15. Felt some liveliness in morning prayer, and some aspirations after greater measures of holiness. Resolved to observe this as a day of fasting and prayer. After seeking divine assistance, reflecting on the innumerable sins, of which my life has been full, and on the great aggravations that enhance my guilt, I attempted, I hope sincerely, to give myself and all I possess to God, in the renewal of my covenant engagements. " FEB. 16. Very dull and lifeless in the morning. Made a resolution to restrain my temper, and the next moment broke it. Felt more lively at meeting. In the afternoon and evening was VOL. I. 9 66 MEMOIR OF remarkably favored. I felt such an overwhelming sense of God's amazing goodness, and my own unworthiness, as I never had before. It gave me a most earnest desire to spend and be spent in the service of God, in any way he should please to employ me.'"FEB. 17. In the morning, felt strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might; thought I could stand against all enemies, but soon was as lifeless as ever. When shall I learn that all my sufficiency is of God. "FEB. 19. What a poor, weak, unstable creature I am, when Christ is absent! Read Baxter's Saint's Rest; but though it is very affectingly written, I was totally unmoved by it. " FEB. 22. This is a day to be remembered. I determined to spend it in fasting and prayer, but was prevented. In the afternoon, received an invitation to spend the evening with,&c.; but, thanks to divine goodness, was enabled to decline it. I tasted much sweetness in the former part of the evening; but in the latter part, I was favored with such displays of divine goodness, as almost forced me to exclaim, Lord, stay thine hand! " FEB. 23. Was again favored with the divine presence. I have some expectation of a heavy stroke impending. If it is so, God's will be done. " FEB. 24. A great falling off from the enjoyments and life of yesterday; yet, blessed be God, I am not wholly deserted. I was much favored in speaking to the scholars, and they seemed rather more affected than common. But I have suffered much to-day from the attacks of spiritual pride. This, I already see, will be the enemy against which my efforts must be directed, and which will cost me most conflicts. But I trust in an almighty arm. " FEB. 26. I drag along without advancing. 0, how disproportionate are my endeavors to the mighty prize for which I contend! " FEB. 28. Resolved to spend this day in fasting and prayer. Did so, but found no relief. Was astonishingly dead and wandering. In reading Mr. Brainerd's life, I seemed to feel a most ardent desire after some portion of his spirit; but, when I attempted to pray, it vanished. I could not even mourn over my Loldness. EDWARD PAYSON. 67 "iMARcH 3. In the evening, partly by my own fault, and partly by accident, got entangled in vain company. Afterwards was in most exquisite distress of mind. Had a clearer view of my own sinfulness and vileness than ever. "MARCH 4. I seem rather to go back than to advance. What a display of divine power, to make a saint of such a wretch as I! " MARCH 6. My time flies like a vapor, and nothing is done. When shall I begin to live for God! " MARCH S. I cannot accuse myself of indulging in any known sin, or neglecting any known duty; but I am so lifeless, so little engaged in religious things, that I seem to believe as though I believed not. MARCH 10. Found considerable freedom in prayer. Was too passionate in a dispute about a theatre. Had little freedom in speaking to the scholars. Was enabled to be diligent in filling up my time. Was assisted in my studies. "MARCH 12. I act as if eternal things were a dream. When shall I be wise! -"MARCH 13. Favored with great liberty in prayer. Was enabled to pray for others more than usual. MARCH 17. Thanks to divine goodness, this has been a good day to me. Was favored with considerable freedom in the morning, and rejoiced in the Lord through the day. But in the evening, felt an unusual degree of assistance, both in prayer and study. Since I began to beg God's blessing on my studies, I have done more in one week than in the whole year before. Surely, it is good to draw near to God at all times. "MARCH 19. Less freedom in prayer than usual. In the evening, was betrayed into folly if not into sin. Could neither write nor read with any profit. What a miserable creature am I, when Jesus withdraws his assistance! Was very positive in a trifle, and was justly punished by finding myself in the wrong. Hope it will prove a profitable lesson to me.'' MARCH 23. Am much exercised respecting applying for license to preach, and afraid I am under the influence of improper motives; but I trust my Guide will direct me. " MARCH 28. Read Pike's Saving Faith; and, though at first I was somewhat alarmed with fears that I had it not, yet, bles sed be God, my fears and doubts were soon removed. I wab 68 MEEMOIR OF enabled to appeal to God for a witness of what he has done for me. I know that I love my Saviour; and, though my love is infinitely short of his merits, I trust He who gave it me can and will increase it. I am sinful but He died for sinners. Felt unusual fervency and sweetness in prayer, and reading the Scriptures, and was encouraged to go on, striving for more holiness. " MARCH 29. Renewed my covenant with God. Asked assistance to do it with sincerity. My prayer was answered in al unusual degree. I had a clearer view of my own vileness and depravity, and a more distinct and satisfying perception of Christ's all-sufficiency and goodness, by far, than I ever enjoyed before; so that I was ready to think I had never known any thing of the matter. Was enabled to say Abba Father! in the true spirit of adoption, and to exercise strong faith in Christ and love to him. " MARCH 30. Had more comfort in ordinances than ever before. I was almost ready to think this the period of my conversion. The transport I felt was more rational and penetrating than I ever before experienced. It arose from an apprehension of the perfect sufficiency of Christ in all his offices, and from a clear discovery of God as my Father, so that I was enabled to trust, rejoice, and exult in him. " APRIL 2. Was enabled in some measure to guard against a peevish, impatient disposition. In the evening, unusually lively and fervent in prayer. "APRIL 5. Was very much harassed with wandering thoughts this morning. Sought to Christ for deliverance, and found it..... Have fresh reason to think visiting is detrimental. In the evening, was exceedingly depressed with a sense of my vileness. I wished to shrink from society and observation. Could hardly think of attempting to preach. Threw myself at the feet of my blessed Saviour, and poured forth mly sorrows and complaints before him. Yet I suspect there was more of self than any other principle in my tears. "APRIL 8. Was much exercised to-day on the subject of election, and other truths connected with it. Have been much in doubt respecting offering myself for examination next month. Fear I am not under the influence of proper motives.'.PRIL 13. Sabbath. Felt the love of God sweetly shed EDWARD PAYSON. 69 abroad in my heart. Continued in this frame all the morning. Derived much more advantage from ordinances than usual, especially from the sacrament. A profitable day. " APRIL 14. Was in a comfortable frame this morning. Had some assistance in speaking to my scholars. But, alas! my heart before noon betrayed me into sin. I fell into a passion with an inanimate substance; and thloulght, if I did not utter, curses. Was soon aroused to a sense of my folly and guilt. " APRIL 19. I know not why, but this has been the worst week I have had these six months. Believe I expected too much from the sacrament. " APRIL 20. Had some sense of my miserable state, but little fervency in seeking relief. Suspect the weather and my health have some influence on me. In the evening, had more fervency, but not more sensible assistance. Was, however, resigned to my Master's will, and enabled to trust in him.'CAPRIL 26. Was much favored in my approaches to the throne of grace to-day. " MAY 1. Rose early, and had some life and comfort. Have been so much engaged in preparing my sermon for examination, that my mind has been much taken off from religion. I find writing sermons is not praying. " MAY 4. It is now long since I have enjoyed any of those sweet seasons of communion with God, which used to be my chief happiness. I fear I have neglected the Scriptures too much. Am determined to pay more attention to them. "' MAY 13. This was the day in which I intended to be examined before the Association, but it pleased Providence to prevent. In the evening, reflected on my late coldness and backwardness in religion, and resolved, by the help of divine grace, to run with more alacrity the race set before me. " MAY 18. I think I never was so favored in prayer for so long a period in my life. At meeting, tolerably lively. In the intermission, and after meeting, was enabled to spend the time profitably, so that I never was favored with a more profitable Sabbath. "MAY 19. Enjoyed considerable fervor in the morning. and some life in speaking to my scholars. Engaged in a dispute at breakfast; and foolishly became angry. Retired and prayed for him with whom I was angry, and for myself. 70 MEMOIR OF Was enabled, in a considerable degree, to conquer my anger in this matter. " MAY 2(. Find some remains of anger, notwithstanding all my endeavors to suppress it. " MAY 22. Since I began, in pursuance of my design, to read the Scriptures, I have enjoyed more of the divine presence than before. " MAY 23. Was favored in prayer.-Was applied to by the selectmen to deliver an oration on the 4th of July. Refused at first; but, being persuaded to consider of it, pride and vanity prevailed, and I foolishly complied.-Menm. Never to consider, when I have a presentiment, at first, what I ought to do. " SABBATH, JUNE 1. Sacrament. Enjoyed much of the divine presence and assistance in prayer and meditation. Have never had a more profitable morning. Found my Saviour in his ordinances. Hope I have found this a good day. Seemed to feel more property in Christ and his benefits than I had ever done before. After meeting, was filled with the blessed consolations of the Spirit. 0, how refreshing are those foretastes of heaven! How ravishing the presence of Jesus! Felt a full assurance of my interest in the blessings purchased by Christ. No doubts obscured the sunshine of my mind. God. be praised. " JUNE 9. Resolved to spend all the time before six in religious exercises. Enjoyed some comfort in prayer. " JUNE 15. Sabbath. Never felt such strong and lively faith in prayer as this morning. It seemed as if I had nothing to do but to take whatever I pleased. "JUNE 17. Was much harassed with wandering thoughts in morning prayer. Was much assisted in my studies. "JUNE 28. Felt myself exceedingly vile. Found no comfort in the exercises of public worship. My oration is a snare to me. O, what an astonishing, bewitching power a thirst for applause has over my mind! I know it is of no consequence what mankind think of me, and yet I am continually seeking their approbation. " JUNE 29. Sabbath. Rose early, and was favored with the presence and assistance of the blessed Spirit in prayer. 0, how sweet and refreshing it is to pour out our souls before God! 0, the wonderful and unmerited goodness of God, in keeping EDWA RD PAYSON. 71 me from openly disgracing my profession! If he had left me one moment to myself, I had been ruined. Next Sabbath is the sacrament. God grant that it may be a refreshing season to me, and many others. "JULY 2. Still harassed and perplexed about my oration. Could not have believed, that the desire of applause had gained such( power over me.' JULY 4. Was enabled to ask for assistance to perform the services of the day. In the evening, felt in a most sweet, humble, thankful frame. How shall I praise the Lord for all his goodness! " JULY 5. Felt much of the same temper I experienced yesterday. In the evening, was favored with much of the divine presence and blessing in prayer. —lMkem. Applause cannot confer happiness!' JULY 6. Sabbath. My infinitely gracious God is still present, to make his goodness pass before me. He has been with me this morning in prayer, and enabled me sweetly to say, lkay Pather, my God. At the sacrament, my gracious Saviour favored me with some tokens of his presence. 0 that I could find words to express half his goodness, or my own vileness! I hope my faith received some increase. But what I desire to praise my God for, is his wonderful goodness in assisting me against pride. "JULY 7. Still favored with the smiles of my blessed Lord. Surely his loving kindness is better than life. How condescendingly kind! I hope he is teaching me the value of worldly applause, and how incompetent it is to afiord happiness. I have had enough to satisfy me, if there were any satisfaction in it. But happiness is to be found in God alone. " JULY 18. Very little comfort in prayer. Have fallen into a sad, lifeless state the week past. Hope it will convince me, more strongly than ever, of my weakness and vileness. Sat up till 2 o'clock at night, talking with M'r., on religious topics. Found he had more to say in defence of Unitarianism, than I could have supposed. " JULY 23. I am entirely stupid. Am sensible of my situation, and mourn over it, in sonic measure, but cannot escape. "JULY 24. No life at all. 0 that it were with me as in 72 IME MOIR OF months past! In the evening, was favored with more of the divine presence than I have enjoyed this fortnight. " JULY 25. Spent the day, according to previous resolution, in fasting and prayer. Was favored with much of the divine presence and blessing, so that it was a comfortable and profitable day to me. Called to mind the events of my past life, the mercies I have received and the ill returns I have made for them. Felt a deep sense of my own unworthiness, and the unmerited goodness of God. " JULY 27. Was alarmed with respect to my state, by reading Edwards on the Affections; but obtained comfort and assurance by prayer. "AUG. 2. Was much engaged in prayer, and thought I was humbled under a sense of sin. Was enabled to plead with some earnestness for spiritual blessings. But afterwards, reading an account of the conversion of some persons, I was led to doubt whether I had ever known what it meant, and was much distressed. "AUG. 3. Was again disturbed with apprehensions that I knew nothing of religion; but, though I could not come to Christ, as one of his members, I threw myself down before him, as a sinner, who needed his mediation, and my doubts vanished. " AUG. 4. Rose with the impression, that all I had formerly experienced was a delusion, and that I was still an enemy to God. Was enabled to go to Jesus, and plead earnestly for mercy, not for my own sake, but for his. I seem determined, if I must perish, to perish at his feet; but perhaps I was deceived. However, my hopes began to revive. In the evening, foolishly went into company, and had no time for prayer. "AUG. 16. Seemed to be something more alive to divine things, this morning. Found some sweetness in prayer and reading the Scriptures. In the evening, was much assisted in preparation for the sacrament to-morrow." CHAPTER IV. Retires to Rindge, and devotes himself exclusively to his preparation for the ministry. IN the month of August, 1806, Mr. Payson relinquished his charge of the Academy in Portland; and " after settling his business, went on board a packet for Boston," in which he remained several days, " tossed about by contrary winds, and wounded by the oaths and blasphemies of the wretches on board." He described "a set" of his fellow passengers by two words, indicative of all that is revolting to modesty and pious feeling, and suited to " vex the righteous soul; the bare mention of which would cause others to join him in the exclamation,' How dreadful to spend an eternity among such wretches!" On the fifth day from his embarkation, the vessel " arrived in Boston in a violent gale of wind, attended with some danger." He tarried in the neighborhood, till after commencement, and, notwithstanding the " noise and confusion, found more pleasure than he had expected, in meeting his classmates." On his way from Cambridge to Rindge, he rode as far as Groton; but whether the stage rested there over night, or took a different route, and his desire to tread again the threshold of his beloved home, alone urged him forward-so it was, that he left the stage, and " walked home from Groton after six" in the evening and was at his journey's end "about four the next morning," ready to receive the congratulations of his friends." His father's house continued, from this time, to be his hallowed and chosen retirement, till he entered on the active duties of the ministry VOL. I. 10 74 MEMOIR OF "Wisdom's self Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude; Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation, She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings." This step considered in all its aspects, may justly be regarded as one of the most important in Mr. Payson's life, and reflects the highest honor on his judgment and good sense. Four months previously to this time, as has been seen in the preceding pages, he seriously contemplated making application for license to preach the gospel. Whatever were the cause that prevented him, a gracious providence is visible in it; not that he was particularly deficient in sacred learning; on the contrary; his theological knowledge was probably equal to that of most candidates. Among the works which he is known A to have read with care, might be named Watson's Tracts, Witsius, Stackhouse, Jonathan Edwards, besides many works of devotion and practical divinity. Abstracts of several other treatises still exist in his hand-writing, which were made before he left Portland; also a collection of "Thoughts on the Composition and Delivery of Sermons." Still, during all this time, he was invested with a public trust of no light responsibility. His school must have mainly engrossed his time, his thoughts, and his cares. To suppose that his professional studies were allowed more than a secondary claim to his attention, were to suppose him unfaithful to an important charge, which he had voluntarily assumed. And though he could hardly have been other than a distinguished preacher, even had he entered on the sacred office without further preparation, yet he would not have been the minister he afterwards was. This season of retirement has an intimate connexion with his subsequent eminence and usefutlness. To the occupations of these days of seclusion from the world, more than to any other means, may be traced his gigantic " growth in the knowledge of God," and that extraordinary unction which attended his performance of official duties. His progress in some of them is noted in his diary, near the "hiatus' already spoken of, which probably contained more notices of the same kind. The diary. which was " commenced as a check upon the misemployment of time," and which did at first record the occupations of every hour, ere long became almost exclusively a record of his religious exercises and experience. EDWARD PAYSON. 75 This period of his history is memorable, and highly instructive to the student of theology. Having, after much deliberation and prayer, chosen the ministry of reconciliation as the business of his future life, he gave himself up to the work of preparation with an exclusiveness and ardor perhaps never exceeded. From every study and pursuit, whatever its charms and attractions, which was not directly subsidiary to his grand design, he resolutely divorced himself,-at least till he had acquired the art-analogous to the supposed properties of the philosopher's stone-" of turning all to gold." He seems to have concentrated and directed all his powers to the acquisition of spiritual knowledge, and the cultivation of Christian and ministerial graces, in obedience to the apostolical precept, " give thyself wholly to them." A decision once formed was with him usually final; and, in executing his purpose, "c whatever his hand found to do he did with his might." These, his permanent characteristics, were eminently conspicuous at this period, while learning to "negotiate between God and man; As God's ambassador, the grand concerns Of judgment and of mercy." With the most exalted views of the holy office to which he was looking forward, and of the qualifications requisite to its competent and successful execution, he sought them with a proportionate zeal, devoting himself to the study of the sacred pages, if man ever did, " with all the heart, and soul, and strength, and mind." For " Systems of Divinity," as drawn up by men, Mr. Payson seems to have felt but little reverence. It was not his habit to decry them as useless; but he regarded them with a watchful jealousy, and felt it unsafe to trust to them, as his practice evidently demonstrates. He found " a more excellent way " to the knowledge of his Master's will, by consulting directly " the law and the testimony." Thus to honor the " lively oracles is the wisest and safest course for every man; for to embrace a system, with the intention of retaining or rejecting it, either wholly or in part, as it shall afterwards be found to ag"ee, or not, with Scripture, is to incur the hazard of perpetuating error -since a man's theory is more likely to modify his views ol ihe Scriptures, than 76 MIE I OIR OF the Scriptures are to correct the mistakes of his theory. This every one may have observed in regard to those whose sentiments differ from his own. Before this time, indeed, the works of the most eminent divines of our own and other countries, which were then accessible, and which he is known to have read, had doubtless exerted some influence in forming his religious opinions; but he was obviously wedded to none. To none did he feel the attachment of a partizan; he had not arrived to that state of mind which made him feel interested to defend an opinion because any human master had said it. The polluting and disorganizing tendency of loose opinions on the one hand, and the scarcely less deplorable effects of dogmatism on the other, which could not have escaped his observation, not less than the spirit of religion and his constitutional independence of mind, conspired to lead him to a just estimate of the value of human authority in matters of religious belief, and to consummate his reverence for the " sure word of prophecy," and his confidence in Revelation, as an adequate foundation for his faith, and an infallible guide in duty. "HIere is firm footing-all is sea beside." Most men, however discordant their principles, profess to have derived them from the Scriptures; but, with Mr. P., this was something more than pretence. The Bible was with him the subject of close, critical, persevering, and, for a time, almost exclusive attention, his reading being principally confined to such writings as would assist in its elucidation, and unfold its literal meaning. In this manner he studied the whole of the Inspired volume, from beginning to end, so that there was not a verse on which he had not formed an opinion. This is not asserted at random. It is but a few years since, that, in conversation with a candidate for the ministry, he earnestly recommended very particular and daily attention to the study of the Scriptures, and enforced his counsel by his own experience of the advantages which would accrue from the practice. He observed that before he commenced preaching,he made it his great object to know what the Bible taught on every subject, and, with this purpose, investigated every sentence in it so far as to EDWARD PAYSON. 77 be able: to give an answer to every man who should ask a reason for it." * In this way he acquired his unparalleled readiness to meet every question, on every occasion, whether proposed by a caviiler or a conscientious inquirer, which, it is well known, he usually did in a manner as satisfactory as it often was unexpected. The advantages hence derived were, in his view, beyond all computation. It secured for him the unlimited confidence of people in the common walks of life, as a " man mighty in the Scriptures." It gave him great influence with Christians of other denominations. It enabled him to confound and silence gainsayers, when they could not be convinced, as well as to build up the elect of God on their most holy faith. It furnished him, too, with ten thousand forms of illustration, or modes of conveying to ordinary minds the less obvious truths, with which he was conversant in the exercise of his ministry. He believed "all Scripture to be given by inspiration of God, and profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, and for instruction in righteousness;" and he was himself a striking exemplification of its competency to render " the man of God perfect, thoroughly furnished unto every good work." Of Mr. Payson's devotion to the Scriptures there is evidence of a different nature from that which has just been given. Among his papers has been found a small manuscript volume containing " Notes," on most of the books of Scripture. It is among the few interesting relics of this period of his life. The manuscript ends with remarks on 1 John. v. 8. Whether they were continued, in another volume, to the end of Revelation, * It is not here alleged that Dr. Payson comprehended all that is contained in the Scriptures, much less that he arrogated to himself such knowledge; for though " the word of Christ dwelt richly" in him, he doubtless continued to " increase in the knowledge of God " by every perusal of it, how often soever repeated, till the last, and even then saw as through a glass, darkly, compared with the visions of heaven. Some truths cannot be fully comprehended, and may have various relations which never will be known on earth. Many things respecting unfulfilled predictions can be known by no man till after their accomplishment. But he had made every passage a distinct object of attention, and, if "hard to be understood," he could state to the inquirer the causes of the obscurity, and in the very fact find a powerful motive to humility, diligence, and prayer for divine illumination, thus rendering the darkest texts "profitable." 78 MEMOIR OF does not appear. These notes are short in themselves, and much abbreviated in the form of expression, but bear marks of a kind and extent of investigation highly creditable to his learning and judgment, as well as to his diligence and fidelity. Discrepancies are accounted for and reconciled; figures are explained; chronology, philosophy, topograhy, natural history, ancient languages, are made to contribute to the elucidation of Scripture. Against prophecies, which have received their completion, are found references to the historical characters and events by which they are supposed to have been fulfilled. It is difficult to characterize these notes by any general term, except that they are exegetical, in distinction from practical and experimental. Those on the New Testament are professedly collated, in part; and, though the same should, on examination, be found true of the rest, the manuscript is evidence of his careful study of the Scriptures; and for this purpose it was introduced to notice. To learn more fully Mr. Payson's estimate of the Scriptures, the reader should peruse, in this connexion, his sermon, entitled " The Bible above all Price." In that discourse the preacher is much at home; he treads on ground where he delighted to linger. He explores a field with whose riches and beauties he was familiar. He clusters together its excellencies with a dexterous and bountifil hand, and describes its efficacy like one who " spoke that which he knew, and testified that which he had seen." His familiarity with the Scriptures was strikingly apparent in his pulpit addresses generally; not so much by long quotations as by their general spirit, and the sacred associations he was continually awakening. They bore prominent traces of the divine model he so faithfully studied, not in matter only, but in the manner of exhibiting it,-so plain, that his hearers could not but see it,-enforced by considerations so reasonable and moving, that they must feel self-condemned for rejecting it. They were not the cold abstractions of a speculative mind, but the doctrines which are according to godliness, clothed in the fervid language which affection dictates. They were not truths - To what extent Dr. Payson was familiar with the original language of the Old Testament, the writer is not informed. That it was among the objects of his attention at this time, there is evidence in his own hand-writing but none very conclusive that his acquaintance with Hebrew was minute and critical. EDWARD PAYSON. 79 merely; but truths uttered by one who had felt their power, and experienced their consolations, under the influence of that Spirit, who, to use his own expressive language, "lives and speaks in every line." But there is another part of his example more difficult to imitate than the one just sketched. He prayed without ceasing. Aware of the aberrations to which the human mind is liable, he most earnestly sought the guidance and control of the Holy Spirit. He felt safe nowhere but near the throne of grace. He may be said to have studied theology on his knees. Much of his time he spent literally prostrated, with the Bible open before him, pleading the promises-" I will send the Comforter-and when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth." Hte was especially jealous of his own heart, and to conquer its evil propensities, subjected his body as well as his mind to the severest discipline. No man ever strove harder to mortify the flesh, with the affections and lusts.:' It is almost incredible, what abstinence and self-denial he voluntarily underwent, and what tasks he imposed on himself, that he might "bring every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ." IHe allowed himself only a small part of the twenty-four hours for sleep'' and his seasons of fasting were injuriously frequent. So far did he carry his abstinence from food, that his family were alarmed for his safety. Often has his mother, whom he most tenderly loved and reverenced, and whose wishes were law to him, in every thing besides his religious principles, and intercourse with his Maker in every tiing, in short, which did not bind the conscience-often has his mother, or a favorite sister, stood at the door of his chamber with a little milk, or some other refreshment equally simple, pleading in vain for admission. * The following division and appropriation of his time was entered in his diary about five weeks after his return to his father's: "Oct. 5. Resolved to devote, in future, twelve hours to study; two to devotion; two to relaxation; two to meals and family devotions; and six to sleep." But this did not long satisfy him. His rigid notions of duty led him to subtract two hours from the six devoted to sleep, and to multiply his seasons of fastingl to a degree which the human system could not long have sustained. A weekly fast, however, was habitual with him, from this time till his last sickness. s0 MEMOIR OF The expediency or duty of such severe mortification turns on the question of its necessity to the attairnment of the object, for which, in this instance, it was practised. If the subjection of the heart and mind, with all their powers, to Christ, could not otherwise be effected, he was unquestionably right; for no sacrifice or suffering, which is requisite to this, can be too great. " If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off; if thine eye cause thee to offend, pluck it out." It is moreover true, that the most eminent saints of ancient and later times have devoted frequent seasons to private fasting and prayer; and the practice may, therefore, be ranked among the essential means of rapid and extensive growth in grace. It were well for individuals, it were well for the church, if the practice should revive, and become common. * So far from weakening the charities of life, or diminishing the amount of active, social duties, it would greatly enhance them. We should witness a more vigorous and deterrined piety, a more diffusive and efficient benevolence. Still the religion of Christ enjoins no needless austerities. It has at times called, and may again call, for the sacrifice of' health, and life, and treasure; for the renunciation of friends, and home, and all its endearments. But in ordinary circumstances, " Godliness is profitable unto all things-to the life that now is, as well as that which is to come." It did not require injurious excess of abstinence and mortification in one situated as Mr. Payson was. He afterwards saw his errornot in fasting, but in fasting so long-and lamented it. In this matter, his mother was the wiser counsellor. What she feared came upon him; the unhappy consequences to his health were felt, it is believed, to his dying day. * There are some distinguished laborers in the vineyard of our Lord, who practise the essential duty here recommended, not so much by totally abstaining from food beyond the accustomed intervals, as by " denying themselves" at every meal, and using a spare and simple diet at all times,-a course well adapted to preserve both mind and body in the best condition fbr biblical research and devotional exercises. This modification of the duty was much practised by Mr. Payson, and strongly recommended by him to the members of his church. He would have them, when fasting on their own private account, not "appear unto men to fast;" but to come to the table, which was spread for their families, with a cheerful countenance, and partake sparingly of its provisions. EDWARD PAYSON. 81 The truth is, Mr Payson never did any thing by halves. Whatever were the objects immediately before him, he was totus in illis, wholly engrossed with them. He was therefore particularly liable, at this stage of his experience, glowing, as he did, with all the ardors of a first love, and panting for the honor of winning souls to Jesus, to give an undue intensity to the meaning of those passages which prescribed his personal duty. When he read the strong language of Paul —" mortify your members, that are upon the earth;" and contemplated his example —'"I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection;" and desired above all things to be another such champion of the cross; his susceptible and ardent mind might have imbibed views of duty, which needed to be corrected by another remark of the same apostle -" bodily exercise profiteth little.' When attended with the expectation, however latent, that it will purchase immunities, or merit heaven, so far from " profiting" at all, it vitiates the act, rendering it not only useless, but abominable. Such an expectation, however, was totally abhorrent to all Dr. Payson's views; and its existence in the faintest degree is not to be supposed on any other principles than those which are common to men, whose deceitful hearts practise innumerable impositions, unsuspected by their possessors. If "he who ruleth his spirit is greater than he who taketh a city," the rigid discipline and government, to which Mr. Payson subjected the passions of the mind, and the appetites of the body, afford the most conclusive proof of his real greatness, as well as of his decision and energy of character, and of his unshaken adherence to his purposes. Ignorance and prejudice, under a show of superior discernment, will see in this conduct the future " pope;" for prejudice, like malice, will remain blind to one important fact, which should never be lost sight of in estimating Mr. Payson's character. Except in things expressly enjoined in the Scriptures, he never, at this time or afterwards, made his own practice a law for others. If he "bound heavy burdens and grievous to be borne," he did not " lay them on other men's shoulders," but made his own bear their oppressive weight. He urged self-denial, prayer, and fasting, indeed, as he was obliged by the authority under which he acted; but left the measure and degree to the decis VOL. I. 11 82 MEMOIR OF ion of each man's conscience. He knewvnore than others of the strength of depravity in his own heart, and supposed he had need of severe measures to subdue it; that it was of a " kind," of which he could not be dispossessed "' but by prayer and fasting." He rightly judged, too, that a minister of the meek and self-denying Jesus needed a more than ordinary share of humility and self-government, to be separated farther from the contaminations of the world than other men, and to have the habitual state of his affections more heavenly. Moreover, he had an overwhelming sense of ministerial responsibility, and looked forward to the office, not without hope indeed, but yet trembling for the results. Why then should he not learn to "endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ?" And yet thousands of nominal Christians will censure this severe regimen, as criminal, by whom he would have been suffered to escape without animadversion, had he indulged in an occasional surfeit, and mingled in parties of pleasure. But who can say, that he was not moved by an influence which it would have been sinful to resist, at least till he had reached that limit, beyond which perseverance was excess? That God, who sees the end from the beginning, fits his instruments for the peculiar service which he is preparing for them. A great and arduous work was appointed for Mr. Payson, as the event proved. And for that kind of preparation, which consists in fasting and communion with God, he had the high example of the Jewish lawgiver, and of One greater than Moses. Thus did Christ, our Exemplar, previous to entering on his public ministry; and also when from among his disciples he " chose twelve, whom he named apostles." Thus did the apostles, after Christ's ascension, whenever they were called to set apart a brother to the work of the ministry. In this, however, and other duties, the time, manner, and extent of which are left undetermined by the express statutes of Christ's kingdom, it is safer to act according to our convictions of duty, for the time being, than to make these convictions our unchangeable rule of conduct for future time. It is a wise direction, " Be not rash with thy mouth, and let not thy heart be hasty to utter any thing before God." In binding ourselves by EDWARD PAYSON. 83 vows to any course if conduct, regard should be had to our circumstances, as social beings, dependent on one another, as well as on the Author of our existence. No man, perhaps, ever reached any high degree of eminence, who did not form purposes and resolutions, and adhere to them, when formed, with some degree of constancy. There are obvious advantages in having our general course marked out before us-in prosecuting our various duties by system, and not at random. But when we descend to details, and assign, beforehand, to every hour of the day its employment, or oblige ourselves to fill up a given number of hours with a particular pursuit, we should not overlook the limits of human ability, nor the thousand changes which may take place in our circumstances, and in our relations with those beings, among whom God has placed us. In consequence of such changes, other duties may have a paramount claim to those very hours; and if our resolutions are formed without an eye to such contingencies, they may prove a snare to us. Disappointments will be unavoidable; vexation and discouragement will ensue. It is not to be presumed that Mr. Payson formed his purposes without reference to the vicissitudes of the human condition. Still, his chagrin on failing sometimes to accomplish them, affords reason to think that he might have been too sanguine. It is a little remarkable, that the next day after he had sketched the plan for his future daily employment, unforeseen events necessarily prevented his executing it: "OCT. 6. In great confusion this morning-sister sickfather going a journey-little time for prayer. Was so much hindered in various ways, that I did not fulfil my twelve hours From causes equally beyond his control, he often failed of accomplishing all that he prescribed to himself. Such were, nevertheless, his most laborious days. When hindered and diverted from his object, he would goad himself onward to extraordinary exertion; and when successful in executing his plan, his satisfaction was exquisite. The influence of habitual prayer upon his studies, was so certain, and so operative, that the strength of his devotion seems, for the most part to have been the measure of his progress. By his very near approaches to the Father of lights, his 84 MEMOIR OF mind received, as it were, the direct beams of the Eternal Fountain of illumination. In the light of these beams, the truths of religion were distinctly perceived, and their relations readily traced. These irradiations from the throne of God not only contributed to the clearness of his perceptions, but imparted a kind of seraphic energy and quickness to his mental operations. From them he derived, not light only, but heat. Few requests were urged by him more constantly and earnestly, than his petitions for assistance in study; and not unfrequently he records results similar to the following-" Was much assisted in my studies this evening, so that, notwithstanding I was interrupted, I was enabled to write twelve pages of my sermon. It was the more precious, because it seemed to be in answer to prayer." Those, who would esteem such an "evening's work as too insignificant to be noticed with special gratitude, should. know, that he had now been only part of a month in his retirement. Three days later he writes —" Was most remarkably assisted in study, so that I wrote three fourths of a sermon." And on the other hand, there are entries of a different character. One may serve as a specimen: " SEPT. 23. Was quite dull and lifeless in prayer, and, in consequence, had no success in study." Sometimes even his " lively," fervent prayers were not followed by immediate returns; but when the answer was granted, it brought with it a rich compensation for the extreme perplexity and distress, which the delay occasioned him:-' MARCH 4. Was entirely discouraged respecting my studies, and almost determined to give up in despair. But see the goodness of God! He enabled me to write a whole sermon, besides reading a great deal; and in the evening, was pleased to lift up the light of his countenance upon me. 0, how refreshing, strengthening, and animating are his smiles! How ravishing the contemplation of his holiness, love, wisdom, power and goodness! He seemed to be a boundless ocean of love; and the sight caused my heart to expand with love to him and all his creatures. 0, how trifling do earthly beauties appear, when he is pleased to unveil his face, and EDWARD PAYSON. 8s give a glimpse of heaven! His holiness is the chief glory of his nature." But in nothing was his progress more rapid, than in selfknowledge. Here-whether success or disappointment crowned his other pursuits-he was continually extending his discoveries. To those who are ignorant of " the plague of their own heart," his confessions of sin must appear extravagant, and his description of his heart, a picture having no original save in an apostate spirit. He calls it " a compound of every thing bad." He likens it to the "'bottomless pit; out of it, a% soon as the door, with which the Holy Spirit covers it, is opened by his absence —a thick, noisome smoke arises, with a tribe of hellish locusts, that devour the tender plants of grace, and bring on a darkness which may be felt." Now, he is " crushed into the very dust by a recollection of the sins of his youth;" now, "filled with distressing feelings, and loses all hope, that he shall ever be fit to preach;" while these very feelings he attributes to a criminal cause, as, " disappointed pride, and a conscious inferiority to others." At another time, he is " brought into temptations, which show his inward corruptions, against which he had been praying," or which he had not before suspected in himself. Again, if he "attempts to approach the throne of grace, whole floods of evil imaginations carry him away! so that he is fain to have recourse to unthought-of methods to get rid of them." And, not to prolong the enumeration, he is oppressed with " such a sense of his insignificance and vileness, that it seemed as if he should never open his mouth any more, to boast, complain, or censure." Still, his religion differed as widely from that of the mere ascetic, as Christian charity differs from selfishness. Its fruits demonstrate the genuineness of the stock. His first care was, indeed, to have his own " heart right with God;" but he was, at the same time, fertile in good devices, and prompt to execute them. To his mother, under domestic trials, the nature of which, though not indicated, appears to have caused her bitterness of soul, he was eminently " a son of consolation." To other members of the family he strove to be useful. The eye, that could penetrate the walls of his chamber, might have seen him conducting a younger brother to the throne of grace, 86 E M I II OF kneeling with him before the mercy-seat, and interceding with God for his salvation. He encountered a journey for the express purpose of visiting an early friend, of whose piety he had once some hope, but who, he feared, had now become indifferent to the one thing needful that he might know his state, and encourage him to seek that good part, which could not be taken from him. And so much were his benevolent feelings drawn forth towards the inhabitants of his native town, that he spared no suitable exertions for their spiritual good. A revival of religion among them was the subject of fervent prayer; and in the same object he endeavored to enlist other Christians. He procured, through the ageAcy of his mother, the institution of a weekly meeting of female members of the church, for united prayer that the work of God might be revived. In short, so far was he from being bound up in self, that he exerted himself for the good of others in such ways as were proper for one in a state of pupilage. Even in the most distressing parts of his experience, there are discoverable those characteristics, which distinguish it from the torturing convictions of the unrenewed soul. If he is in " a sullen, stupid frame," it is not without " some melting desires after God." If he is well-nigh " overcome by temptation," it is that he may "rejoice the more at his deliverance, when God gives him the victory." If he is "discouraged because of the difficulties of the way, and the small progress which he makes," just as "all hope seems departing, the fire burns within him." Uniformly, his war is with himself, and not with his God. And if to prevent the night-watches, that he might meditate on God's word; if to love the habitation of his house, and the place where his honor dwelleth; if to account himself and all things else as nothing for Christ's sake; if to know in whom he has believed, and to draw near to him in full assurance of faith; if to be satisfied as with marrow and fatness, while remembering God and meditating on him in the night-watches; if to prevent the dawning of the morning by the cries of prayer; if to prefer Jerusalem above one's chief joy-are scriptural marks of piety; then is his placed beyond suspicion. All these, and more, will be recognised in the extracts from his journal, with which this chapter concludes: EDWARD PAYSON. 87 "SEPT. 29. Had a most transporting view of God's glory as consisting in pure holiness. I rejoiced greatly that he reigned, and could exalt his own glory. Henceforth, I will not doubt of my character; for I know, yea, assuredly know, that I love God, my Saviour, and holiness. "OCT. 19. Sabbath. Rose with thoughts of God on my mind. Was exceedingly assisted in secret and in family prayer. INever had my desires and affections so much drawn out after God and holiness. Was filled with the gracious influences of the Spirit, so that I rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory. Never did earth appear so small, heaven so desirable, the Saviour so precious, holiness so lovely, God so glorious, as now. In reading the Scriptures, they seemed to open with a clearness and force which delighted and astonished me. Such a sweet, calm, soul-satisfying joy I never felt before in so great a degree. Nothing on earth seemed worth a serious thought, but to glorify God. Had much of the same temper through the day. Was more assisted at meeting than ever before. In the evening, had a clearer sense of the evil of sin, a greater hatred of it, and more fixed resolutions against it than ever. This has been by far the most profitable and blessed day to my soul, that I ever experienced. God be praised! " OCT. 25. Was much depressed with a view of the numerous enemies which oppose my journey heavenward. Had a faint glimpse of Christ, as able to carry me through in spite of all. Never before had such a clear idea of the passage-If the righteous scarcely are saved. Seemed to be plunged in a bottomless ocean of sin and corruption, from which no efforts of my own could free me. " Nov. 2. Sacramental Sabbath. Blessed be God, who has caused his loving kindness to appear. Enjoyed much assistance in family and secret prayer. Was enabled to drag my sins to Christ, beseeching him to slay them for me. Afterwards, enjoyed great sweetness in meditation. Was preserved, in some measure, from wandering thoughts at meeting. Had a profitable, though not a very happy time at communion. After meeting, was favored with considerable liberty in family and secret devotions. "Nov. 10. Had petitioned, last night, that I might awake at a given hour; my petition was granted, and I was assisted 88 MEMOIR OF in prayer.@ Felt my dependence on God for strength. WVas surprisingly favored all day. Was in a sweet, lumble frame. I admired and loved the work, which Christ had wrought in my heart by his Spirit, just as I should have admired it in any other. My faith seemed to be unusually strong, able to grapple with any thing. I felt all day, that I depended entirely on Christ for the continuance of my strength. "Nov. 18. After retiring to rest last night, was favored with an extraordinary display of divine grace. I rejoiced that the Lord reigned, that Jesus was exalted far above principalities and powers. I was permitted to approach very near him, and to plead with much confidence and earnestness for myself and others. Waked several times in the night in the same frame. In the morning was favored with still clearer views, and more near access to my Saviour, and rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory. Could not find words to utter my praises for such goodness. Had, too, a most humiliating view of my own vile and odious nature. "Nov. 19. My gracious God is still loading me with his unmerited goodness. His mercies follow each other, as wave follows wave, and the last seems ever the greatest. This morning, I seem to enjoy the happiness of heaven. " Nov. 21. Resolved to spend this day in fasting and prayer for greater measures of grace, and assistance to render me more humble and concerned for God's glory; for more love to God and his people, and for ministerial qualifications. After seeking the divine presence, for which I was enabled to plead with great earnestness, and a feeling sense that I could do nothing without it, I endeavored to recollect and confess my sins. I saw myself exceedingly vile, seemed the chief of sinners, to be worse than * Referring to an alternative, which might affect his temporal comfort merely, and not his usefulness, Mr. Payson somewhere says-" I would not degrade prayer so much as to make it the subject of a petition." Those who think he here forgets his own maxim, should know that the loss of his morning hours was followed by a day of comparative uselessness and misery. It is, however, our shame, that the standard of personal piety should now render necessary an apology for such childlike simplicity in the devotions of a man of his acknowledged magnanimity. In nothing does he appear more worthy of imitation, than in his constant recognition of a Superintending Providence, and in literally acknowledging God in all his ways. EDWARD PAYSON. 89 the evil spirits, and thought that the lowest place in hell was my due. it I felt the most ardent desire for God's glory, and was willing to be a stepping stone, or any thing, however mean, to promote it. To be a fellow-laborer with Christ, in the glorious work of bringing souls to him, seemed to be the most delightful and honorable of all offices; and in this service, I felt willing to spend and be spent; to suffer pain, contempt, and death itself. Felt a most intense love for Christ's people, and was willing to be below them all. "Nov. 26. As soon as I awoke, felt my soul go forth in longing after more holiness, and promised myself much comfort in prayer. But my Lord withdrew himself, and I could do nothing. Felt convinced that it was a dispensation of love for my good. " Nov. 29. Never was enabled to plead with such earnestness and submission before. My month was filled with arguments, and I seemed to have both my Saviour and the blessed Spirit go with me, and plead for me at the throne of grace. Was favored with a clear view of my Saviour's beauty and holiness, and of the scheme of salvation by him. What a glorious design, and how worthy of its Author! " DEC. 1. Favored with an uncommon spirit of prayer. Saw that, as a member of Christ, I might pray with as much certainty of being heard as Christ himself. Was enabled to plead his merits, sufferings, death, God's gracious promises, what he has already done for me, the operations of his own Spirit, and his own conduct in hearing others-as reasons why he should hear me.' - * Was graciously assisted in pleading, till I received an answer of peace. Was most sweetly melted with a view of the love of the blessed Trinity, displayed in the work of redemption, and the vile, ungrateful returns I had made. " DEC. 5. Felt a full persuasion, that my present dark, comfortless state is only designed for good, to teach me humility, dependence, and weanedness from the world; and if it has this effect, I welcome it with joy. "DEC. 6. All my proud and selfish feelings seemed to be annihilated. I saw and rejoiced, that Jesus had no need of me! and that he would be praised by others, if not by me, to all eternity; and, provided he could be glorified, I cared VOL. I. 12 90 MEMOIR OF not how, or' by whom. How sweet to have pride and self subdued! "DEC. 9. Determined to spend'this day in fasting and prayer for myself and the advancement of religion in this place. Had great and special assistance last evening, and now, in pleading for the outpouring of the Spirit here, and for help in the duties before me. After thinking over my manifold transgressions, my sins against light and love, and. confessing them, —I attempted to plead my Saviour's death and righteousness, for pardon and reconciliation. I could not obtain it, but was for three hours in great perplexity and distress, and was more than once on the point of giving up in despair. However, I was enabled to continue reading the Scriptures and praying till afternoon, when the cloud dispersed, and my Saviour shone out brighter than ever before. How did my soul rejoice, and plead for sanctifying grace! Was exhausted and worn out, but continued praying, or trying to pray, till night. " DEC. 16. Was enabled to realize, for the first time in my life, what Christ suffered, and for what a wretch he suffered. Was so overwhelmed with the view, that I could not, for some time, shed a tear. 0 how hateful did sin appear. " DEC. 17. Was much assisted in writing on Christ's passion. "JAN. 4, 1807. Was favored with a spirit of prayer beyond all my former experience. I was in great agony, and wrestled both for myself and others with great power. God seemed to bow the heavens and come down, and open all his treasures, bidding me take what I would. "JAN. 6. Was not favored with that sweet sense of pardon, which I usually find on occasions of fasting; but I had a quiet, peaceful, resigned frame, and felt none of those repining thoughts, which the absence of sensible comforts is apt to excite. " JAN. 20. Was amazingly assisted in prayer for myself, parents, friends, and a revival of religion. " JAN. 21. Was favored with the clearest views of the glory of heayen, as consisting in holiness, that I ever had. "JAN. 29. Never felt such longings after God, or such a desire to depart and be with Christ. My soul thirsted for more full communion with my God and Saviour. I do not now feel satisfied, as I used to, with the manifestations of the divine presence, but still feel hungry and craving. EDWARD PAYSON. 91 C FEB. 2. Was amazingly given up to wandering imaginations. If I attempted to pray, in a moment my thoughts were in the ends of the earth. If I attempted to read the Bible, every verse almost, afforded ground of doubt and cavilling. This fully convinced me that Satan is able to make me doubt even the existence of God. " FEB. 18. Was enabled to lie at Jesus' feet, and to wash them with the tears of contrition. No pleasure I have ever found in religion superior to this.' FEB. 20. Resolved to spend the day in fasting, and had considerable assistance. Had clearer views of the majesty, purity, and holiness of God, than usual, and this made me abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes. " FEB. 28. Was favored with great enlargement in prayer. Seemed to be carried out of myself into the presence of God. < MiARCH 2. Seem to be declining; am less grateful, less fervent, than I was, and have less tenderness of spirit. Yet I am less apt to think much of myself than I was, and hope I am growing in humility. This seems the most lovely grace, and most becoming sinners. " MARCH 7. Were it not for the promised help of my Saviour, I would think no more of preaching, but rather labor for daily bread. " MARCH 12. Never appeared so exceedingly vile and loathsome to myself as I did this day. It seemed as if I could not endure to be near myself. No words could express any thing like the sense I had of my unworthiness. It seemed as if I could not, for shame, ask God to save me. I felt like sinking into the dust, in the idea that his pure eye was fixed upon me, and that saints and angels saw how vile I was. " MARCH 15. Sabbath. Rose very early, and was favored with sweet fervency and communion with God in prayer. Went to bed, and lay till morning. Enjoyed great liberty in prayer several times before meeting. " MARCH 17. Was favored with a peculiar experience this morning. I thought I knew that I could never heal myself before; but I was made to know it in a different manner now. I saw, with most convincing clearness, that neither I, nor all created beings, could do the least thing towards delivering me from my sinful nature. I saw that I depended entirely on the 92 M E MOIR OF free mercy of God; and that there was no reason but his own good pleasure, why he should ever afford me that assistance. Felt, for the first time in my life, what the apostle meant by " groanings which cannot be uttered;" and my desires after holiness were so strong, that I was in bodily pain, and my soul seemed as if it would burst the bands which confined it to the body. " MARCH 19. [At the close of a day of fasting and prayer.] I find that, even when the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak. No days are so fatiguing as those which are spent in fervent and continual exercises of religion. It will not be so in heaven.': MARCH 26. Spent the day in fasting and prayer. Was favored with near access to my heavenly Father, and a realizing sense of his perfections. O how sweetly was I enabled to praise and admire his love and goodness in his works! " MIARCH 31. Spent this day fasting, but not in prayer; for I could not put up a single petition. Was entirely deserted, and was ready to say, Surely- it is in vain to seek after God. I could not see that I had advanced one step in holiness, and was ready to think I never should; yet could think of nothing else worth pursuing or living for. Doubted whether it were possible that I should know any thing of true religion, and yet be so entirely barren. APRIL 7. In fasting and prayer, was favored with much of a spirit of supplication. I now seem to be lifted above those discouraging, desponding doubts, which have for some time clogged my soul. No GOOD COMES OF DOUBTING, OR OF BROODING OVER OUR SINS. "APRIL 14. Spent this day in fasting and prayer. Was wholly deserted, except that I saw more of my natural depravity, aid the consequent pollution of all my duties, than ever before. Saw more, too, of the glory and greatness of the work of redemption, than I had previously. "APRIL 22. Spent this day in fasting and prayer. At first was stupid; but soon God was pleased to lift up the light of his countenance upon me, and visit me with his free Spirit. O how infinitely glorious and lovely did God in Christ appear! I saw, 1 felt, that God was mine, and I his, and was unspeakably happy. Now, if ever, I enjoyed communion with God. He EDWARD PAYSON. 93 shone sweetly upon me, and I reflected back his beams in fervent, admiring, adoring love. Had a most ravishing view of the glories of heaven, of the ineffable delight with which the Lord Jesus beholds the happiness which he has purchased with his own blood." CHAPTER V. His state of mind in the immediate prospect of the ministry THE time now drew near, when Mr. Payson was to receive license, agreeably to Congregational usage, to preach the gospel. His spirituality appears to have increased as that interesting era of his life approached. Most sensibly did he feel that he " was no longer his own, but bought with a price," and " called by grace to serve God in the gospel of his Son. " The world was crucified to him, and he to the world." His piety was distinguished by more frequent acts of self-dedication to God, not by short ejaculations and a general surrender merely, but with great deliberation, attended by a minute survey of the relations of the creature to the Creator, and of the obligations recognised and assumed by such a consecration. Happily, one specimen of the manner in which he gave himself up is preserved; and, though it describes the secret dealings of the soul with its God, it is hoped that it will not be desecrated by being brought out to the light. If, however, the reader never felt the awe which is created by a consciousness of the divine presence-if he never experienced the emotions of an ancient pilgrim, when, preparing for a similar transaction, he exclaimed, " How dreadful is this place!"-he is urgently requested to pause. If he is conscious of any other feelings than those of profound solemnity, let him leave this chapter unread. In it he will find nothing with which a mind given to levity, or vanity, or pride, can possibly sympathize. If he ventures to proceed, he will be met at the threshold, if not by " a drawn sword in the hand of the Captain of the Lord's host," by that which is scarcely less appalling to an earthly mind, and which will render almost equally EbWARD PAYSON. 95 appropriate the order addressed to Israel's leader -" Loose thy shoe from off thy foot; for the place whereon thou standest is holy." "MAY 1, 1807. Having set apart this day for fasting and prayer; preparatory to the celebration of the Lord's supper, I rose early, and sought the divine presence and blessing, in which I was favored with fervency and freedom. My petition was, that I might be enabled to see my own character, contrasted with the purity of God, and his holy, just, and good law; that I might be assisted in renewing covenant with God, and in giving myself up to him, and that 1 might be favored with ministerial qualifications. After this, I drew up the following CONFESSION AND FORM OF COVENANT. "0 thou High and Holy One, that inhabitest eternity, whose name alone is Jehovah, -who art the one, great, eternal, everblessed God, before whom angels bow and devils tremble, and in whose sight all the nations of the earth are less than nothing and vanity!- wilt thou graciously condescend, in thy sovereign and infinite goodness, to look down from thy throne of glory on me, the most unworthy of thy creatures, a poor, weak, sinful, vile, and polluted wretch, to behold me with mercy and compassion, and permit me, lying prostrate in the dust before thee, to address thee as my God., my Father, my Creator, my Benefactor, my Friend and Redeemer! O0 Lord, I would come with a heart broken and contrite for sin, acknowledging myself unworthy of the least of all thy mercies, and deserving nothing at thine hand but everlasting banishment from thee and happiness. Encouraged by thine own gracious promises, I would come, and with humble confidence, take hold on the hope set before me, even thine everlasting covenant, which is ordered in all things and sure. But, O God, what am I, that I should be called thy son, that I should call thee my Father, or that thou shouldst enter into covenant with me? I blush, and am ashamed even to lift up my face unto thee, 0 my Father; for I have sinned against thee, and am exceeding vile; vile beyond what language can describe or thought conceive. My iniquities are gone over my head; they are increased even to the heavens; they are infinite in number, 96 MEMOIR OF in degree and aggravation, and can be equalled only by thy mercies, which have been new every moment. Thou, 0 God, hast given me life, and dost still preserve me in existence. Thou hast given me faculties which render me capable of knowing, serving, loving, worshipping and enjoying thee. Thou hast placed me in this Christian land, and given me the knowledge of thee, myself, and my duty, while thousands of my fellow creatures are left in darkness. Thou hast placed me in that situation in life which is most favorable to virtue, contentment, and happiness, and hast given me parents tender and affectionate, who early devoted me to thee, and taught me to lisp thy name, and to know thy precepts. Through their means thou hast given me opportunities of improving those faculties I have received from thee, and thus rendering myself more fit to serve thee. But above all, 0 my God, thou hast given me an interest in thy Son, and in all the blessings he has purchased. Thou hast given me the Spirit of adoption, whereby I am enabled to cry, Abba, Father. Thou hast given me thy precious grace in this world as an earnest of glory in the next. Thou hast also loaded me with daily and hourly mercies, more than I can number. Thou hast kept me with more than paternal care. Thou hast preserved me in sickness, protected me from dangers, shielded me while awake, watched over me in sleep, supported me in trials, strengthened me in weakness, succored me in temptations, comforted me in afflictions, and defended me against mighty and numberless enemies. Thou hast overwhelmed me with thy mercies; my cup runneth over. Thy goodness and thy mercy have followed me all the days of my life. " Yet against all this goodness I have rebelled, have rewarded thee evil for good; thy mercies have only aggravated my guilt. 0, my God, what have I done! What madness, what obstinacy, what ingratitude has possessed me! My sins have run parallel with thy mercies. I have struck and wounded the hand that made me, fed me, preserved me. I have wasted in sin and folly the life thou gavest me. I have perverted those faculties I received from thy goodness in dishonoring thee, and in disobeying thy commands. I was shapen in sin, and brought forth in iniquity. My understanding is darkened and alienated from the truth; my will is stubborn and perverse; my affections are corrupted and depraved; and every imagination of the EDWARD PAYSON. 97 thoughts of my heart has been evil, only and continually evil. My carnal mind has been enmity against thee, and has not been in subjection to thy righteous and holy law. From this corrupt and bitter fountain have proceeded innumerable bitter, polluting streams. Though I was early taught thy will, I neglected to perform it. I have broken all thy commands, times without number. My words, thoughts, and actions, have been sinful. I have gone astray from my youth up. " And even after thou didst take pity upon me, when I was cast out, polluted, to perish in my blood-after thou didst receive me, a poor, wretched prodigal, and didst cause thy wondrous goodness and mercy to pass before me, I have still continued to weary thee with my sins, and cause thee to serve with mine iniquities. I have broken that solemn covenant by which I bound myself to be thine. I have indulged an evil heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God, and have in all things dealt very treacherously. How often have I mocked thee with solemn words on a thoughtless tongue! How have I neglected thy word, profaned thine ordinances, broken thy law, and resisted thy grace! How little of a filial temper have I felt to thee, my Father! How little gratitude to thee, blessed Saviour! How often have I grieved thee, O Holy Spirit, by whom I am sealed to the day of redemption! When thou liftest upon me the light of thy countenance, I grow proud, carnal, and secure; and when thou leavest me in darkness, when my own foolishness perverteth my way, then my proud heart fretteth against thee, the Lord. All my duties are polluted with innumerable sins, and are as a leprous garment before thee. And, after all thou hast done for me, I am still encompassed about with innumerable evils. Pride, unbelief, selfishness, lust, anger, hatred, malice, revenge, bitterness, slothfulness, vanity, love of the world, ignorance, formality, hypocrisy, and with all these, self-conceit, are still the inhabitants, if not the lords, of my heart. And, as thou, 0 Lord, knowest, these are not the ten thousandth part of my sins and iniquities; so that I am the chief of sinners, and least of all saints. a * * " 0 wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from this body of death? Vain, O Lord, thou knowest, are my endeavors, and vain is the help of man. I have ruined myself, and in thee alone, and in thy mercy, is my hope. VOL. I. 13 98 MEM, OIR OF " To this mercy, against which I have so often sinned, would I flee for refuge, and, laying my hand on my mouth, and my mouth in the dust, cry, Unclean! unclean! True, Lord, I have sinned; but with thee there is mercy, with thee there is plenteous redemption. Thou, thou, art he, who blottest out our iniquities for thine own sake, and wilt not remember our sins against us. The blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin, and to this would I flee for refuge. In him do I put my trust; 0 let me not be ashamed. Let me plead before thee the merits of thy Son, and put thee in mind of thy gracious promises, that I may be justified. In his name, and as an unworthy member of his mystical body, would I come, and renew before thee that covenant which I have broken, and bind myself to be thine forever. And do thou, for his sake, 0 God, assist me; for in thee is my strength. " Relying on this strength for support, and confessing myself guilty of all these and innumerable other offences, and that I deserve, in justice, nothing but the lowest hell, and renouncing the destructive ways of sin, -I do with my whole heart and oul, in a most serious, solemn, and deliberate manner, choose and take the Lord Jehovah to be my God and Father, cheerfully and joyfully renewing all my past engagements; and, in humble dependence on his grace, I engage to fear him, and cleave to him in love. And I do, most freely, give up myself, my interests, for time and for eternity, my soul and body, my friends and possessions; and all that I have, to his wise, just, and sovereign disposal. Especially do I devote myself to him in the service of the ministry, beseeching him to place me in that situation in which I shall most glorify him. And wilt thou, 0 most gracious and condescending God, accept this offering of thy creature, who can give thee nothing but what he has first received. " With equal joy and readiness, and in the same serious and solemn manner, do I choose and embrace the Lord Jesus Christ to be my only Saviour. I take him in all his offices-as my Priest, to make atonement for all my offences —as my Prophet, to guide, teach, enlighten and instruct me-as my King, to rule in and reign over me. I take him as the great Head of influences, from whom alone I can receive all needed supplies of grace and assistance. EDWARD PAYSON. 99 I do also take the Holy Spirit of all grace and consolation to be my Sanctifier, and promise not to grieve him, or to slight his warnings. " And, O my God, what shall I more say? what can I ask, since I am thine, and thou art mine; mine, for time; mine, for eternity? 0 my God, I want nothing but to be wholly thine. I would plead thy promise for a new heart and a right spirit. O write this covenant on my heart, and put thy fear there, that I may not depart from thee. May I be made an able, faithful, and successful minister of the New Testament. May the life and concerns, which I have now devoted to thee, be employed in thy service; and may I, at length, be brought to the full enjoyment of thee in glory, through infinite riches of redeeming love. "As a testimony of my sincere and hearty consent to this covenant, of my hope and desire to receive the blessings of it, and as a swift witness against me if I depart from it; I do now, before God and the holy angels, subscribe with my hand unto the Lord. EDWARD PAYSON. " And may this covenant be ratified in heaven. And do thou remember, 0 my soul, that the vows of God. are upon thee. Having drawn up the above covenant, I spread it before the Lord; and after confession of sins, and seeking pardon through the blood of Christ, I did solemnly accept it before him, as my free act and deed; and embraced Christ in it, as the only ground of my hope. I then pleaded for all covenanted blessings, and was favored with great fervency and enlargement in prayer. An indisposition, which attended me through the day, rendered it less profitable than usual; yet I have abundant reason to bless God for the measure of assistance I received. I felt the most longing, intense, and insatiable desires after holiness, and to be employed in promoting the divine glory. The world, with its applause, seemed nothing in comparison with the approbation of God. Existence seemed worth possessing only as it could be employed in praising him." Before the reader sits in judgment on the transaction nowv recorded, and especially on the manner in which it was conducted; before he censures the vows, by which the covenanter 100 MEMOIR OF bound his soul, as too strong, the surrender as too complete and exclusive, or the terms in which it is done as extravagant, -let him inquire of his own heart, whether he has duly considered the claims of the great Jehovah, and treated these claims as a real servant of God, a true disciple of Christ. Even under his " easy yoke," the terms of the relation are, " Except ye forsake all, ye cannot be my disciples." And if "no man can serve two masters," we have no alternative, but to give up ourselves to God without reserve, or be disowned by him. However solemn the act, that can be neither unreasonable nor improper, which our Father in heaven requires. When we enter upon an enumeration of all that is comprised in dedicating one's self to God, we may well be filled with awe, and tremblingly alive to the danger of failing to perform our vows; but to withhold the offering, savors more of unbelief, of a selfish and rebellious heart, than of a wise caution, or a filial temper. There is a class of persons, to whom the confessions in the above instrument will appear revolting, and by whom they will be stigmatized as religious affectation. He speaks of his sins as "infinite in number, degree and aggravation." The Christian, whose " sins have been set in order before him," sees no hyperbole in such language; and if it should meet the eyes of others, they are referred for an explanation, so far as it can be appreciated without Christian experience, to the sermon numbered seven of his published discourses. Even " the natural man " may there " discern " enough to acquit the author of inconsistency; and it is no more than an act of common justice to allow him to be his own expositor. In this and other places, he descends to specifications of sins in terms which may be thought applicable to none but a monster of wickedness; and yet they are the judgment passed on himself by a man always and universally respected for the correctness and purity of his morals. His " pride" never looked with disdain upon the meanest fellow-creature; his " malice" and "revenge" never inflicted actual injury; and of any outbreakings of the baser and more degrading passions, he stands unindicted by all except himself. Nor were these humiliating confessions, this extraordinary self-abasement, made to attract notice, and give himself importance in the eyes of others-one of the very worst and most odious forms in which pride oper EDWARD PAYSON. 101 ates-for to them no mortal was ever privy. They were not known to a fellow-creature, till since he dropped the clods of mortality. They describe what he appeared to himself to be in the immediate presence of the perfectly holy and heart searching God. Still, many will repeat the question-If he alludes to no crimes, with which every man might not with equal propriety charge himself, whence the justice or truth of the charges? Here again he shall be his own interpreter. Let those who are oppressed with this difficulty carefully read his sermon, entitled, " Sins estimated by the light of Heaven;" and they will find a full and satisfactory solution. This, and the sermon just alluded to, will furnish a key to the true import of much of the language which he employs, in describing the darker and more distressing parts of his experience. The effects of his severe regimen and night vigils on his health had already begun to appear, and were somewhat aggravated by a bodily injury which he received about this time. The circumstances are said to have been these: He had accompanied his father and another clergyman to an ordination. On their return, as he was feasting his mind with such meditations as the scenery and the occasion suggested, they out-rode him. His horse, being left principally to his own guidance, by suddenly leaping a brook, brought his rider to the ground, whose right shoulder was dislocated by the shock. A partial faintness succeeded, from which he was recovered by bathing his temples with water from the stream. Attempting, in this disabled condition, to regain the saddle, by leaping from a neighboring fence, he was precipitated over the horse to the ground, and the bone was restored to its place by the fall. In after life, it was often displaced, and sometimes in circumstances not a little embarrassing and distressing; and for many months before his death, and even before he ceased to appear in the pulpit, that arm hung useless by his side. From this time, the state of his health is the subject of frequent allusion, as may be seen from his journal, parts of which, for several successive days, are subjoined, bringing down his history to the date of his license to preach the gospel: — " MAY 2. Was exceedingly weak through the day, both in body and mind, and was enabled to do little or nothing. Could only wish and sigh. 102. MEMOIR OF " MAY 3. Sacrament. Had considerable flow or affectionr, but seemed to want clearness and spirituality. In the afternoon, was more dead and trifling. So far as I can judge from my feelings, have got little good by this opportunity. Felt deeply oppressed with guilt after meeting, but could not mourn over my sin, as I would fain have done, nor could I obtain any sense of divine love. But after a short time, my compassionate Saviour was pleased to melt my soul with a look of love, and I felt sweetly humbled and contrite for sin. Although I had carelessly let down my watch, yet in the evening he was pleased t6 return, and give me the sweetest humbling season I ever enjoyed. I never felt so vile, so insignificant, so like nothing, so emptied of self. And when I was thus empty, he was pleased to fill me with himself; so that I was burnt up with most intense love, and pantings after holiness. Never before had I such faith and fervency in prayer. I was as happy as nature could sustain, and could only say-Blessed Jesus! this is thy work. See my happiness. It proceeds from thee! This is the fruit of thy travail of soul. Renewed my covenant, and gave up my whole soul, with all its powers, to God as my Father, Christ as my Saviour, and the Holy Spirit as my Sanctifier. Had another sweet season in prayer; but was assaulted by spiritual pride. I see frowns are necessary for me. " MAY 4. Was less favored this morning than last evening; but had some assistance. Was aided in writing, but greatly oppressed with pride and vanity, which made their attacks upon me in inexpressible shapes, while I could do nothing. " MAY 5. Spent this day in the woods, in fasting and prayer, with a view to obtain mortification of my abominable pride and selfishness. Was favored with much fervency and enlargement the former part of the day, but was afterward much deserted; seemed to make no advances in holiness; to be of no advantage to the world, and unfit to live. * This expression may at first glance strike the reader as extravagant; find yet, by consulting John ii. 17, he will find an almost exact parallel-The zeal of thine house hath eaten me up. So inwrought into Mr. Payson's mental habits were the Scriptures of truth, that he thought, breathed, and spoke, in their manner. Those, however, will, or ought to be, the last to complain, who can resolve all the characteristic expressions and peculiar doctrines of the Bible into " strong eastern figures." EDWARD PAYSON. 103' MAY 6. Had some freedom in prayer. Felt very feeble, and unfit for study; but, praying that Christ's strength might be made perfect in my weakness, I was helped to write more than usual. " MAY 7. Out of order both in body and mind. Did little in my study, and had little freedom in prayer. "MAY 8. Had some life and fervency this morning; but was exercised with wandering thoughts. Could do little all day. "MAY 9. Was much perplexed with some business with ~ ~, so that I could neither read nor pray, any more than I could remove a mountain. This was made useful to me. I saw by it the weakness of my graces, and learned to judge more favorably of those Christians who are exposed to the temptations of the world. It showed me also my need of divine help more clearly than ever. Were I exposed to the same temptations, I should lose all sense of divine things without greater supports than I ever had. " MAY 10. Was very unwell, and could neither eat, read, nor pray. Was excessively melancholy. " MAY 11. Was still more oppressed with melancholy, and felt even more miserable. x * * * * X Was ashamed of my selfishness and ingratitude in despising the blessings God had given me. Remained very wretched, and unable to do any thing. In the evening, had some relief. " MAY 12. Was, if possible, still more gloomy and depressed than yesterday. Seemed unfit to preach, and even to do any thing. Could only wander about from place to place, seeking rest, and finding none. In the evening, a person arrived from Marlborough, inviting me to come and preach four Sabbaths. After putting up a short but sincere petition, that I might not be left to my own guidance, and asking the advice of my father, I promised to go. Retired, and cast myself upon the Lord for support, with a deep sense of my own utter insufi.ciency. " MAY 13. Having set apart this day for fasting and prayer, with reference to entering on the work of the ministry, I sought the divine presence and blessing, in which I was much assisted. Renewed covenant with God, and gave myself up to him for the work of the ministry. Was helped to plead with far more earnestness than ever before, and, indeed, with as much as my 104 MEMOIR OF nature could support, or was capable of, and this repeatedly during the day. " MiAY 14. Was very unwell, and apprehensive of a nervous fever. Could not read the most amusing books without weariness and distraction; and my body was so weak, that I could exercise but very little. Yet, by divine goodness, was preserved in a quiet, submissive frame. " MAY 15. Was better, and had some sweetness in secret devotion. Went to see an old man who has been converted in his old age. Found him full of affection, and possessing remarkably clear views of God and divine things, though in other respects weak and illiterate. Was somewhat refreshed with his conversation.-P. M. Forced to make a visit, but helped to introduce religious conversation. "MAY 16. Felt very lifeless in the morning; but in secret prayer, it pleased God to enliven me. In the evening, was favored with equal, or greater degrees of fervency. My soul was suddenly humbled and broken for sin. I seemed to be much the least of all saints; and my very soul panted for God and holi.ness, as the hunted hart for the water-brook. Blessed be God for this day. "MAY 17. Sabbath, A. M. Very dull and lifeless; but in secret prayer, the cloud was removed, and I found unspeakable delight in drawing near to God, and casting myself upon him. Christ appeared inconceivably precious, and I longed, with most intense desire, to devote myself to him, and to be like him. I could not but rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory, to think that God in Christ was, and would be, infinitely and unchangeably glorious and happy. In Christ I beheld such fulness and sufficiency, that all my late tormenting fears respecting being qualified for the ministry, and assisted in it, vanished. In the evening, was overwhelmed with a view of my remaining corruptions, and especially of my pride; so that I was in a perfect agony, and could scarcely support it. I was just ready to despair, and give up all future striving as vain; but I fled to Christ, and poured out all my sorrows into his bosom, and he graciously pitied me, and strengthened me with might in my soul. I found unspeakable relief in telling him all my sorrows and difficulties. 0, he is wonderfully, inconceivably gracious! EDW ARD PAYSON. 105 "MAY IS. Had very little freedom or fervency. Was perplexed with the scene before me, and could effect but little. " lMAY 19. Went with my father to the Association, for the purpose of receiving their approbation to preach the gospel. Was exceedingly fatigued. " MAY 20. Was examined and approbated. Was so wreak that I could scarcely stand; but was helped in some measure." VOL. I. 14 CHAPTER VI. His first efforts as a preacher. His religious character further developed. HAVING been regularly introduced and recommended to the churches as a preacher, Mr. Payson proceeded, the next day, to Marlborough, to fulfil his engagement with the people of that place. Change of situation, however, did not interrupt his communion with God. On the way, his mind was engrossed with divine contemplations, and with the duties and responsibilities of that new relation in which he now stood to the church and the world. During the time that intervened between this and the Sabbath, he was not without misgivings; as he complains of being " almost discouraged and overwhelmed, in view of his unfitness for the ministry;" and once, of even " wishing himself any thing rather than a minister." He " could hardly conceive it possible, that one so inconceivably vile should be a child of God; but was nevertheless helped to cast his burden on the Almighty, and to agonize in prayer to be delivered from this body of death." The Saturday next preceding his first appearance in the pulpit,, he had "resolved to spend in fasting and prayer;" but when the day arrived, his "health would not permit." The day on which a man first stands forth as the ambassador of God to his fellow men, is an important era in his life; but it had been anticipated with so much concern by Mr. Payson, that it seems to have been distinguished by no extraordinary strength of feelings. His own account of them is thus expressed:" MAY 24. Sabbath. Was favored with considerable fervency, life, and sense of dependence, this morning. Endeavored to MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. 107 cast myself wholly on the Lord for support. Felt thankful it was rainy. There were very few people at meeting; and I just got through without stopping. Spoke too fast and too low. Was a good deal depressed after meeting. In the afternoon, did a little better, but still bad enough. Was very much fatigued, and almost in a fever; but enjoyed some comfort after meeting." His public engagements, important as he felt them to be, did not divert his attention from his own heart. On the contrary, personal religion continued to be a primary concern. Of this, as well as of the varied nature of his spiritual exercises, there is an accumulation of evidence: M MAY 28. Enjoyed a very unusual degree of sweetness and fervor this morning. 0, how precious did Christ appear to my soul! How I longed to be a pure flame of fire in his service, to be all zeal, and love, and fervor! With what gratitude did I look to him, saying, Blessed Saviour, behold how happy I am! and to thee all my happiness is owing. But for thee, I should now have been lifting up my eyes, being in torments. 0, what shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits! In the evening, in secret prayer, my soul was filled with unutterable longings and insatiable thirstings after God in Christ. I earnestly desired that all mankind might be as happy as I was; that they should all see what a glorious, amiable being God is, that they might love and praise him. Retired to rest with a clear, sweet, realizing apprehension of my Saviour's presence, and dropped to sleep in this frame. "MAY 29. Enjoyed much of the same spiritual sweetness which I felt last evening; but was much exercised on account of pride, or rather, love of applause, which was excited by some approbation which, I lately heard, was bestowed on my preaching. Strove with all my might to be delivered from this hateful temper, and cried for some time to my Supporter and Strength ever to grant me his grace to help. Recalled to mind that I had nothing which I had not received; that I had most wickedly and shamefully wasted, and neglected to improve my talents; that applause was commonly ill bestowed; and that the praise of men was of no worth compared with the approba 108 MEMOIR OF tion of God. By the divine blessing on these and other similar considerations, I was helped to overcome it. In the evening, was much assisted in prayer. Had a greater spirit of wrestling for the conversion of sinners than I ever had before." He is often " discouraged by the little which he accomplishes and the selfish motives with which that little is defiled." He is assailed by " strong temptations, which drive him to his knees for assistance;" and by "frequent recurrence of the same temptation," which costs him long and severe' struggles, before he is favored with complete victory." This is followed by "increased confidence in God, as able to supply all his need, and at the same time, with a more humbling sense of his unfitness for the ministry." And even when he is in a " lively frame" during several successive days, he is still "astonished at his slow progress in religion." Again, " pride and unbelief begin to work, and render him miserable," and for defence against them he resorts " to prayer, pleading various arguments for the space of an hour, before he is able to repress pride and repining thoughts." Nor is this the extremity of his conflict: he has such "a dreadful view of his heart, that he could scarcely support the sight of himself;" while this, " instead of humbling, only distressed him, so that he is at last obliged to desist, without, as he can perceive, any answer at all." The next day, he can cry, "Abba, Father!" with all the confidence of filial love:" JUNE 6. Had many sweet seasons of prayer during the day, and was assisted in pleading for the presence of the Divine Spirit to-morrow. "JUNE 8. Had great earnestness in secret prayer. Longed to be wholly devoted to God. Thought if I could, from this time, do every thing for his glory, I would willingly resign every worldly comfort, and be the most despised object on the face of the earth. Went to a funeral, and was assisted in speaking to the mourners, and in prayer. " JUNE 9. Renewed covenant, and took God for my God, and gave myself up to him in sincerity, and with more joy than I ever did before. In the afternoon was favored with another most sweet and refreshing season in secret prayer. Have sel EDWARD PAYSON. 109 dom, if ever, felt more fervency, more hatred of sin, and more longing desires after holiness.' JUNE 10. The family being mostly absent to-day, I resolved to spend it in fasting and prayer, for a supply of ministerial gifts and Christian graces; especially that I might be made an able, faithful, and successful minister of the New Testament. Was assisted, both last night and this morning, in seeking the divine presence and blessing. God graciously heard and answered me. I was favored with great and unusual fervency and perseverance in prayer, was enabled to confess and mourn over my sins, and to mourn because I could not mourn more, and was assisted in renewing covenant with God, and in giving myself up to be his forever. Was entirely exhausted, and worn out in body and mind, before night, by the strong and unutterable desires I felt after personal holiness and the success of Christ's kingdom. On the whole, it has been a very profitable day to my soul, as by divine goodness, most, if not all, my fast days have been." Four days after this, he experienced a most melancholy reverse, viewing himself as the " most vile, loathsome, worthless, wretch in existence; could only throw himself prostrate and utter the cry of the publican-' God, be merciful to me a sinner.' " The cause of this distress is unintentionally indicated, He was " sick in body and mind." But, "As poison oft the force of poison quells," so the far more wretched condition, and still more melancholy prospects, of a fellow-creature, caused him to forget his own misery: - "' Was called to see a sick man supposed to be dying; he was a professor, aged eighty-seven. Found him something alarmed, but he gave no satisfactory evidence of a change. Stated to him his danger and the remedy, but I fear, to little purpose. Was much assisted in preaching. My strength continued and even increased, though quite exhausted at the close. Went to see the sick man again. Found him better in body, but worse in mind. 110 M EI MOI R OF " JUNE 16. Had no heart to confess my sins; could find no words which would do any thing towards it. Saw no hopescarcely any possibility of being either happy or useful. Tried all day to study, but could neither write nor read, and was completely discouraged. It seemed as if I must give up preaching. "JUNE 17. Had some life this morning, but was harassed with wandering thoughts. Seemed to myself more vile than any other creature existing. Expected an occasion for a funeral sermon, yet could effect nothing. Seldom, if ever, spent a. more painful day. Was ready to say, What profit shall we have, if we pray unto him; for I prayed once and again, but found no relief. In the evening, felt a little better, but then was ready to sink, and seemed fit for nothing but to be fuel for God's wrath. "JUNE 18. Suffered more of hell to-day than ever I did in my life. O such torment! I wanted but little of being distracted. I could neither read, nor write, nor pray, nor sit still. " JUNE 19. Rose in the same state of mind in which I lay down. Rode out, and felt some better, so that I found some liberty to pray. —P. M. Went with fear and trembling to attend a funeral. Was assisted in speaking to the mourners: as the multitude was very great, I was requested to pray out of doors; and though the situation was new, and I was unwell, I was carried through. Felt some relief from my load of melancholy, and,was enabled to write. " JUNE 20. Set apart this day for fasting and prayer. Was unusually assisted in pleading for increase in holiness. Felt such intense longings and thirstings after more love to God and man, more devotedness to God's will, more zeal for his glory, that my, body was almost overcome. Towards night, was enabled to plead with greater fervency than ever, so that I trust this will prove the most profitable day I have ever had. In the evening, was greatly assisted in prayer, so that I could scarcely retire to rest. "JUNE 21. Went to meeting with raised expectations; but it pleased God to leave me more destitute than usual, though I was carried through. When I first came out of the pulpit, I was not in a very good frame; but before I got half way home, was easy, satisfied, and even pleased to be despised, so that God's EDWARD PAYSON. I 11 will might be done. Was much more assisted in the afternoon. Felt thankful. "JUNE 22. Very unusual degrees of fervor this morning. Very unwell all day, and did little in my study. In the evening, was overwhelmed with a sense of my own unworthiness. 0 how wretchedly my life passes away! " JUNE 23. As soon as I awoke this morning, my heart was filled with most intense love to God and Christ, so that it was even ready to break for the longing desires it had to go forth after God. I was greatly assisted in praying that I might be made an instrument of promoting the divine glory in the world. " JUNE 25. Thinking it would be more convenient to keep my weekly fast on this day, sought the divine presence and blessing. Felt some warm affections towards my Saviour at first, but afterwards could neither realize my wants, nor pray to have them removed. Continued in this frame till towards night, and was then favored with a deep sense of my utter vileness. Was also enabled to plead, even with agony of soul, to be freed from the power of a selfish nature. Could not think of being any longer subject to it. JUNE 26. Much favored. Felt insatiable desires after holiness, and that I might spend every moment of future life to the divine glory. "JUNE 29. "Faint, yet pursuing," is a good motto for me. Could do nothing in the morning, but in the afternoon gave up all hopes of ever doing any thing. Iniquities seemed to prevail against me, and I was ready to despair; but, throwing myself on the Lord Jesus for help, I received strength. In the evening, was favored with freedom. Felt that I am much more habitually affected by religious subjects than I have been formerly; nor are my affections less vehement, or less easily excited. "JUNE 30. Was ready to sink and be discouraged in view of my exceeding sinfulness and little progress in religion. " JULY 1..Much sweetness in prayer this morning. Felt broken and contrite for sin.-P. M. Was greatly sunk and depressed. Seemed to be a poor, miserable, useless wretch. Went and poured forth my sorrows at the feet of my compassionate Saviour, and found relief. 0 how gracious is our God! 112 MMEMOIR OF'JULY 5. Sabbath. Had some devout feelings and desire after assistance this morning, but could not get hold of any thing in a very realizing manner. Was very much deserted in prayer and sermon, and felt much distressed; but in the after. noon, was favored with great enlargement, both in prayer and and sermon. Felt a strong love for souls, and for the Lord Jesus. Was weak and exhausted; but, after resting awhile, had a most sweet, refreshing, strengthening season in prayer. Naever before felt so much of the spirit of the gospel. Felt like a pure flame of love towards God and man. Self seemed to be almost swallowed up. Felt willing to go any where, or be any thing, by which God could be glorified, and sinners saved. Felt my hopes of being useful in the world strengthened. 0 how lovely, how kind, how condescendingly gracious, did my God appear! Gave myself up to him without reserve, and took him for my only portion. Blessed be his name for this season. " JULY 6. Rode out this morning, and found much sweetness in continually lifting up my heart to God in fervent ejaculations. In the evening, had such a view of the difficulties in my way, and of my exceeding sinfulness,, that I was ready to sink; but my blessed Saviour put forth his hand and caught me. "JULY 7. Was harassed with wandering, gloomy, and distressing imaginations. Could not fix upon a text, and was much perplexed what to do. Was overwhelmed with melancholy.-P. M. Went to a funeral, and was favored with some assistance. Went to make a visit; found good Christian people, a most kind reception, and profitable conversation." Few enjoyments were more exquisitely satisfying to Mr. Payson, than those which he derived from religious intercourse. In a company of fellow-Christians, whose feelings would rise responsive to his own, when the themes of a Saviour's love, and of human obligation and privilege, were agitated, his soul seemed to revel in spiritual delights; and he was gifted by nature and grace with the prerogative of infusing a rich portion of his own emotions into the rest of the favored circle. These interviews are remembered, by many a surviving pilgrim, as among the liveliest emblems of that "better country," which he has ceased to anticipate, by actual fruition. It is not with EDWA RD PAYSON. 113 out a degree of shrinking, that we follow him in his sudden transition from scenes like these into the very depths of distress; or awaking the following morning, " weak, dejected, melancholy, regarding himself as useless in the world, born only to sin, and abuse the mercies of his Saviour and God, to disgrace the religion which he preached, and bring dishonor on the blessed name by which he was called"-in a word, "oppressed with a load of guilt, so that he did not dare to retire to his chamber till driven thither, and even there, while prostrate in the dust, could hardly refrain, in the bitterness of his soul, from praying to be released from the body!" In the debilitated state of his nervous system, and in his impaired health, the reader will see a physical cause for this depression. He had actually no more reason to doubt of his safety, than he had in his most joyful frames. On this point, his own judgment seems to have been sufficiently discerning, even when its decisions could not summon to his aid that relief for which he sighed; for in immediate connection with these heart-rending lamentations, he says, "Other griefs leave the mind strength to grapple with them; but this oppressive melancholy cuts the very sinews of the soul, so that it lies prostrate, and cannot exert itself to throw off the load." The next day after penning this graphic and unequalled description of his real malady, he is seen in the "chariot of Amminadib," his mind moving with an angel's speed, and performing the labor of many days in one:-" Was favored with fervency and freedom in prayer. Was greatly assisted in writing, through the day, and wrote nearly two sermons. Felt in a composed, thankful frame, all day, and felt the most ardent love for the Lord Jesus, and for all mankind.' In the mitigated forms of melancholy there is a soul-subduing power, which few are able to resist. It then loses its repulsive character, and the soul of the witness is attracted and melted into sympathy. A mind conscious of its misery, yet retaining Uts balance, and surveying its own desolations with unrepining submission, presents a spectacle of moral sublimity, not surpassed by any thing which falls under human observation. This constitutes one of the charms of our Saviour's character, and much of the value of his example. In this attitude, Mr. Payson may be seen in some of the following extracts, and very often in the course of his life. In the second, there is the expression of a "wish," which if rigidly interpreted, might be VOL. I. 1. 114 M E VI O R F understood as indicating a criminal dissatisfaction with lift. But it is an involuntary wish, not incompatible with innocence of mind; for it has its counterpart in the spotless Sufferer of the garden of Gethsemane: — " JULY 17. Find that the two principal things, in which I fail externally, are, the due improvement of time, and the government of my tongue. I daily lose many moments-I might almost say hours-in giving way too much to my feelings of gloom and discouragement; and I say many things which at best are unprofitable. " JULY 18. Almost distracted; but was kept most of the time from repining or murmuring, only sometimes I could not help wishing that I were extinct; but this was wrung from me by the pressure of anguish, for my soul was exceeding sorrowful. "JULY 19. Sabbath. Rose very early, worn out in body and mind; but felt sweetly resigned to the divine will, and was willing to be assisted as much, and as little, as God should see fit. Had some assistance; but after meeting was excessively weak and depressed; thought I would give the world if I never had preached, and it seemed as if I never should go into the pulpit again. "JULY 20. Overwhelmed, sunk, discouraged with a sense of sin. All efforts seemed to be in vain. Discoveries of my vileness, instead of humbling me, as might be expected, only excited discouragement and unbelief; while the manifestations of God's love only make me proud and careless. My wretched soul cleaves to the dust! " JULY 22. 07 what a dreadful, what an inconceivable abyss of corruption is my heart! What an amazing degree of pride and vanity, of selfishness and envy, does it contain! " JULY 23. Was excited to feel fretful and peevish at two or three trifling circumstances; but fled for refuge to the throne of grace, and, by praying for myself, for the persons with whom I was disposed to be offended, and especially by meditating on the meekness and gentleness of Christ, was enabled to preserve peace and tranquillity of mind. Was much assisted in prayer. " JULY 24. Was visited by a young student in divinity, and had some profitable conversation with him. Was never able to converse in a clearer manner upon religious subjects. " JULY 25. This being my birth day, I set it apart for solemn EDWARD PAYSON. 115 Fasting and prayer, with thanksgiving. After confessing and mourning over the sins of my past life, and contrasting them with God's mercies, and offering up praise and thanksgiving for his goodness, I solemnly renewed covenant with God, and, with my whole heart, so far as I could judge, gave myself, my friends, and all that I have, to be disposed of as he should see fit. I felt willing to live or die, as God pleased, and to go among the Indians, or to any part of the world, where I could be instrumental in promoting the glory of God, and the happiness of man. Felt unusually longing, insatiable, and intense desires after holiness of heart and life, and especially after humility. Was never enabled to pray more fervently for spiritual blessings-could wrestle and persevere therein. Felt an impression that this is the last birth day I shall ever see." The next day was the Sabbath, and he was so far spent with its labors, that it was with difficulty he could reach his lodgings. The night was passed without rest; and of his increased weakness in the morning "Satan was suffered to take advantage, and fill his mind with unutterable anguish." But he " found relief in prayer, and felt strengthened to go on with fresh vigor in his Christian course, exclaiming -0, how true it is, that, to those who have no might, he increaseth strength." "JULY 29. I yesterday read an author on the subject of human depravity, and, being perplexed with some of his objections, prayed to be guided to the truth in this doctrine. Was now convinced, beyond a doubt, that in me naturally dwelt no good thing. 0, how vile, how loathsome did my heart appear! I was ready to think I had never known any thing at all of my own character before, and that there were infinite depths in my nature, that I could not see. In the course of the day, was favored with still further discoveries of myself, of true holiness, and of Christ, so that I seemed never to have known any thing of true religion before. "AUG. 3. My blessed Saviour, compassionating my weakness, was pleased to make me strong in himself, and to favor me with a most refreshing season. Never felt so desirous to depart 116 MEMOIR OF and be with Christ, and at the same time more willing to live and undergo all hardships for his glory. Desired that my life might be spent in a close walk with God." His " desire to become a missionary " revived about this time, but did not ripen into a fixed purpose, for the plain reason, that he could not determine that such was the will of God. He submitted the decision of the question to his Master in heaven, praying, " that God would do with him as he pleased, in this respect." " AUG. 5. Was greatly perplexed and distressed, yet tried to keep myself in a quiet, waiting frame, but found great difficulty in keeping out impatient, murmuring thoughts. Could not determine whether my being thus deserted was to punish me for my slothfulness and misimprovement of time, or only for the trial of my faith and patience. aMy soul remembered the bitterness and the gall which it had once before experienced on a Similar occasion, and shuddered at the idea of a renewal." Extracts might be multiplied, exhibiting him as " sinking in deep waters, where the floods overflow him,0 and then again "surprised with a sudden visit from his blessed Lord, full of sweetness to his soul;"-his mind at one time so clogged in its operations by his burdens, that he " tried in vain to write;" at another, so buoyant, that, " though almost confined to his bed, he is enabled to write a whole sermon in a day." This coltrast is no where more strikingly marked than by the following entry, after suffering [from " melancholy, which overwhelmed him like a thousand mountains, so that his soul was crushed under it:" " AUG. 15. Rose in a sweet, tranquil, thankful frame, blessing God for the storm of yesterday, and the calm to-day. 0, how great is his wisdom, how great his goodness! Had faith and freedom in prayer. Yesterday, I thought God himself could hardly carry me through. But to-day- 0, how changed!" * "Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou liv'st Live well; how long or short, permit to heaven." EDWARD PAYSON. 117 Before this, the reader may have expected to learn what influence his secret devotions had on the services of the sanctuary, also the result of his public labors in regard to the people to whom he ministered. It is almost superfluous to add, that they were not without effect. Others " took knowledge of him, that he had been with Jesus." The solemnity and unction of his social prayers; the earnestness and variety of argument with which he pleaded at the throne of grace; his unyielding importunity for the blessings which he sought, -had roused attention, and drawn forth the confession, that " the Spirit of the holy God was within him." " God must help him, or he could never pray so,"-said an observing man, who had previously professed no regard for religion. Herein he doubtless expressed the generally-prevailing sentiment, as Mr. Payson mentions among his trials, " well-meant, but injudicious commendations," while he renders " all the glory to God, who did not suffer him to forget his own weakness." But besides the general impression produced by his preaching, he was instrumental of individual conversions. More than once he was allowed to record an event like the following" Truly in faithfulness God afflicts me. Early this morning, a young man came to me under deep distress of mind, and gave pretty satisfactory evidence that he had experienced a real change. He said he had received great benefit from my preaching. This was a very seasonable cordial to my fainting spirits." Such events caused him to "retire to his chamber, overflowing with wonder and gratitude at God's unmerited goodness to such a miserable wretch." His faithful conversation was also blessed to the family with whom he resided; and the last Sabbath on which he officiated at Marlborough, it was his happiness to propound his host and hostess as candidates for admission into the church. Thus early did God honor his ministry, and give him an earnest of the power which was to attend the word dispensed by him. Enough has been developed to show the secret of Dr. Payson's greatness, and of his success. He laid hold on the divine strength. Prayer, by which the creature communes with Gbd, and obtains grace to help in every time of need, was eminently the business of his life, and the medium through which he derived inexhaustible supplies. It was not the stated morning and 118 MEMOIR OF evening incense alone, which he offered; but that he had " much enlargement, and many sweet seasons of prayer during the day," is matter of frequent record, and probably of still more frequent experience. Almost incessantly was he conversant with spiritual and eternal things. His conversation was in heaven. He also valued and sought the intercessions of others. In a letter to his parents, probably the first he ever wrote after he commenced preaching, he says-" I beg you to pray for me most earnestly and importunately. I seem to be walking on a hair, and hardly dare go down to breakfast or dinner, lest I should say or do something which may disgrace the ministry, or hurt the cause of religion; so that I shall never need your prayers more than now." The sensibility to danger, here so apparent, though it occasionally subjected him to temporary indecision and perplexity, was, next to the promised support of the. Most High, his greatest security. It will also have been seen, that Mr. Payson was subject to great extremes of feeling-at one time, "caught up," with Paul, where he heard " things unutterable;" at another, sunk to the lowest point of depression, where existence was a "burden too heavy for him." Many have imagined his Christian career to have been one of uninterrupted joy and triumph, and such will, perhaps, regret any allusion to those seasons when " his soul was cast down in him;" but to keep these out of sight, would be to conceal a class of affections, from which his exercises, language and conduct received important modifications. Subsequently to this time, there were, in his character, phenomena to be accounted for; and the causes, which it is impossible wholly to suppress, may as well be fairly divulged as merely insinuated and left for suspicion to magnify. Scoffers and revilers will draw poison from the disclosure-and what will they not pervert — but others will improve it to a holier purpose; for " With a soul that ever felt the sting Of sorrow, sorrow is a sacred thing." There are minds so delicately strung, that they cannot escape its most distressing attacks. Friendship, philosophy, and even religion, as it exists in imperfect man, cannot oppose a complete barrier to its influence. With many, in fact, it is the principal EDWARD PAYSON. 119 part of their religious discipline. Trie best of men have occasionally groaned under its pressure. It made Job " weary of his life;" and that pensive, tender-hearted prophet, who was sanctified from the womb, and to whom the subject of this Memoir bore no slight resemblance, complains —" When I would comfort myself against sorrow, my heart is faint in me!" Why should it be thought strange, then, that uninspired men are not exempted from this calamity? "'Tis not, as heads that never ache suppose Forgery of fancy, and a dream of woes; Man is a harp whose chords elude the sight, Each yielding harmony, disposed aright; The screws reversed, (a task, which, if he please, God in a moment executes with ease,) Ten thousand thousand strings at once go loose, Lost, till he tune them, all their power and use." " No wounds like those a wounded spirit feels, No cure for such, till God, who makes them, heals." And yet how barbarously is the state of mind, here described treated! This, of all maladies that man infest Claims most compassion, and receives the least; Job felt it when he groaned beneath the rod And the barbed arrows of a frowning God; And such emollients as his friends could spare, Friends such as his for modern Jobs prepare. Blest, rather curst, with hearts that never feel, Kept snug in caskets of close-hammered steel, With mouths made only to grin wide and eat, And minds that deem derided pain a treat, With limbs of British oak, and nerves of wire, And wit, that puppet-prompters might inspire, Their sovereign nostrum is a clumsy joke On pangs enforced with God's severest stroke." Language, which is wrung from a man by the agony of feeling, will, nevertheless, be variously interpreted by different readers, as they shall sympathize or not with his doctrinal belief. Had the expressions already quoted, and which, in the mouth of a cold calculator, would certainly indicate a disgust 120 I lM OIR OF with life, escaped Mr. Payson at a later period, immediately on some reverse in his prospects, by wh h his fame would be affected-they might have been regarded as the language of disappointed ambition, presenting a case analogous to that of the disobedient prophet, who, because God had averted from Nineveh the catastrophe which he had predicted, thought he "did well to be angry, even unto death." But he had just entered on his profession, had matured no schemes of self-exaltation, was without a rival, and a mere sojourner, not knowing whither his next remove would be or where his ultimate destination would place him. His pretensions were as modest, and his expectations as humble, as those of any man in similar circumstances. And, so far from suffering the chagrin of disappointment, his preaching was regarded with a degree of approbation which exceeded his highest hopes. In no case do these expressions indicate a deliberately formed and cherished wish; on the contrary, they are the utterance of a momentary and involuntary feeling; a feeling suddenly excited, and more suddenly rejected; a feeling, therefore, which might have left the mind wholly uncontaminated with guilt. " Evil into the mind of God or man May come and go, so unapproved, and leave No spot or blame behind." In judging of this class of his exercises, it should not be forgotten, that his health was already undermined; his system had lost much of its elasticity, and encountered a shock, from the effects of which it never afterwards recovered. Besides, he had a constitutional predisposition to melancholy, which other branches of his family are said to have inherited to a still more painful degree. This caused him frequently to view every thing connected with his own personal security, prospects, and usefulness, through the medium of a distorting and aggravating gloom. But to make his faith accountable for his distresses, would be the highest offence to his now sainted spirit, and the grossest libel upon that religion which bore him above the immeasurably accumulated sufferings of his last days. His religion, instead of being the cause of his gloom, was his only refuge from its overwhelming effects. The precious doctrines of grace, according to his own views of them, alone kept him EDWARD PAYSON. 121 tom sinking. His distress, indeed, was often owing to inadequate causes, and his "mind slow to receive the comfort" which God is ever ready to bestow; but if, with his own views of the gospel, he was sometimes melancholy, with different views he would have gone distracted These remarks are not intended as a defence, but as an impartial exhibition of facts. We are not concerned to approve of every thing in Mr. Payson's character. He was a man-a sinner; and it is well for survivers that he had faults, lest, in looking at him, they should lose sight of his and their Saviour. To a man whom so many excellencies rendered lovely, and who was, in the best sense: the benefactor of thousands, they would be in danger of rendering a sort of idolatrous homage, if there were no features in his character to be contemplated with pain and regret. So far as the destruction of his health was brought on by his own imprudences, he is to be blamed: and is in a measure, responsible for the consequences. He did not foresee them, it is true, but thought himself an exception to a general law; still he should have hearkened to the parental voice which warned him. Hie erred too-if one may say it without arrogance, whose pretensions to piety are as nothing compared with his-in looking too much to frames for the evidences of his piety. He was too solicitous for sensible enjoyment, and too much disturbed by its absence. Yet, however deep his sadness at these times, he had not a settled melancholy. With his susceptibility, he could not, probably, have survived a long period of spiritual desertion, and to this he was not doomed; but he was too impatiently eager for total exemption, and for this he was most severely chastised by the same kind hand which so plentifully rewarded his fidelity. There is, however, one aspect, in which all the hardships that he imposed on himself, -the ruin of his constitution by abstinence, night vigils, and extraordinary exertion, and even all his mental agonies, -may be viewed with a feeling of entire reconciliation. All these trying processes, to which he subjected his mind, may justly be regarded as a series of experiments on himself, designed by Providence for the good of the church, indeed of the human race. To him, in the exercise of his future ministry, they were incalculably valuable. The knowledge acquired by this painful experience was not without vast exVOL. I. 16 122 MEMOIR OF pense to himself; but it constituted one of his most important qualifications for aiding numerous other souls through the labyrinths of error and mental distress. In this way he was taught " how to speak a word in season to him that is weary"-to be " a guide of the blind, a -light to them that are in darkness, a teacher of babes." So familiar did he become with almost evcry possible case of conscience, every form of spiritual trial and delusion, to which either inquirers or established Christians are exposed, that he could instantly recognise their symptoms, and apply the needed antidote. In all his revolutions of feeling, varied exercises, and changing frames, there is discoverable an unvarying simplicity of purpose. The destruction of sin, and the extension of the empire of holiness in himself and others, are the objects constantly before him. His eye was single and directed to the glory of God; and he longed for the salvation of men, as the work in which the divine glory eminently appears. He complains frequently of his pride, vanity, and selfishness-qualities, doubtless, eminently congenial with his unrenewed nature, but which were now evidently most unwelcome intruders, and which it was his constant grief that he could not wholly dislodge. Let those, who would convert his full confessions into a proof, "that he was sinful above all men," be reminded, that, if they were to watch the motions of their own hearts with the same care, and judge them with the same unrelenting severity, they might find even greater abominations, than any of which he complains, holding hitherto undisturbed empire over their souls; and not, as in him, annoying, yet conquered passions, which the gracious principle would in the end wholly eradicate. On the 18th of August, he took " a very affectionate leave of the family by whom he had been so kindly entertained," and revisited home, where he spent three days; and then " set out in a violent rain for Andover," Mass., where he had an engagement to preach, and " felt some consolation in reflecting that he was going on his Father's and Saviour's business." The second day, he arrived, "wet, wearied, and dejected." Of his performances on the following Sabbath, he says —"I had little assistance in preaching, and pleased neither the people nor myself." He here expresses, not an opinion merely, but a fact. Popular as he deservedly was, his preaching was not regarded EDWARD PAYSON. 123 with favor by the church in North Andover, which had been left destitute by the death of Dr. Symmes. Whether it were owing to their preference, or his, or to a special providence, he tarried there but one Sabbath, and his next remove was to the scene of his future labors-a field vastly more extensive, and one which he was eminently fitted to occupy. CHAPTER VII. Visits Portland, -his favorable reception, and Ordination. ON the morning of Monday, August 24th, Mr. Payson left Andover for Portland; his mind absorbed with heavenly meditations on the road, and praying and renewing his covenant with God at his resting places. Stop where he might, he was sure to find or to make the place a Bethel; and while the solemnity of his devotions resembled that of the patriarch's on his way to Pandan-aram, his faith realised what that patriarch saw in vision, and found an open way of communication between earth and heaven. Thus he journeyed, " Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise." He arrived on the morning of the third day, and lost no time in renewing his acquaintance, and entering on his new duties there. The frightful reputation of being a Hopkinsian had preceded him, and accounts in part for the following entry in his diary: "AUG. 27. Visited a number of my old friends, lest they should think me sour and morose, and so pay less regard to my preaching. Was kindly received." A letter to his parents contains more on the same subject:" PORTLAND, AUG. 31, 1807. "I arrived here on Wednesday morning, 26th inst., after a very pleasant ride, from which I have already derived sufficient advantage to compensate me for the time and expense. My MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. 125 health seems wonderfully improved; I enjoy sound, refreshing sieep, which I have not for two months before; and I feel strong and able to study. Nor shall I derive less advantage, in another point of view, from this tour. Mr. Kellogg tells me, that he had heard in Boston, that I was rapidly gaining the title and reputation of a Hopkinsian; and that a great part of his plan, in getting me here, was to counteract that report, and, with the assistance of Mrs. K., to make something of me, to use his own expression. However this may be he seems disposed to be of service to me and has already given me some hints, that will be very beneficial. He has also a good library, and I shall, I trust, be able to spend the time here both profitably and agreeably. As the people here have heard that I am a Hop., and think it a great pity that a harmless young man should be transformed into such a shocking creature, I thought it might have a good effect to call upon all my old acquaintances, in order to convince them that my religion was not of that morose, unsocial kind which they supposed; and that a Hopkinsian, supposing me to be one, was not quite so bad as the devil. My visits were received more kindly than I expected, and, I have reason to think, will, in some measure, produce the designed effect." Mr. Payson entered upon the appropriate duties of his calling with the most exemplary diligence and energy, and the effects were almost immediately visible. Such was the attention excited by his preaching, that he seems to have regarded himself as in great danger of thinking more highly of himself than he ought to think, and to have brought all his spiritual forces to bear against this propensity. With reference to this, he observed frequent seasons of humiliation, and oftener renewed the consecration of himself and his talents to God. It was the burden of his secret prayers, that he might be delivered from pride, from self-seeking, from preaching himself, instead of Christ Jesus the Lord.''SEPT. 6. Heard my performances much commended; and, fearing lest I should feel puffed up, I withdrew, and prayed earnestly that I might be preserved from it. And God was pleased to assist me in a most wonderful and unusual manner in pleading, not only for that and other mercies, but in renewing 126 MEMOIR OF covenant with him, and praising him for all his mercies. Never felt more gratitude, more humility, more love to God and benevolence to man, than at this time. Indulged some hopes that God would pour out his Spirit, but hardly expected it. Saw that all the mercies I received were bestowed for the sake of my Lord Jesus alone; and that in myself I was far more deserving of hell than of all that happiness. Could not praise God as I wished, but my soul panted, and almost fainted with ardor of desire to glorify him, and be wholly devoted to his service. " SEPT. 14. Read Baxter on Pride. Was almost overwhelmed to see how much I have in my heart. Could hardly refrain from despairing of ever being humble." In a letter to his father, written a few days after this, he complains of himself in the following strain:"I almost despair of making any improvement in this world. God keeps loading me with one blessing on another, but I cannot grow any more grateful. I cannot feel less proud, less selfish, less worldly-minded. 0, if God by his Spirit did not prevent me, and still in a manner force me to keep striving almost against my will, I should give up in despair. It makes no difference-let me labor ever so much, and feel ever so lively while alone, the momenit I go into the pulpit, or a conference meeting, I am as dead and stupid as a post, and have no realizing sense of divine things. The meeting-house is the grave of every thing good, and the place where corruption always gets the mastery. Sometimes it seems impossible that it should be so. I set out from home so strong, so raised above the world, with so'much zeal for God, and so much compassion for poor, perishing sinners, that I cannot help hoping it is going to be better with me. But the moment I begin, it is all gone! When I seem to be much engaged, and the people think I am all on fire, I fear that God sees my heart like a mere block of ice. If there are any who can look back with pleasure on a life well spent, I can hardly hope that I am a Christian, or that I ever shall be one; for never shall I be able to do that. Adieu, my dearest parents: do continue to pray for me, for I am walking on ice, or, as the prophet says,'in slippery places in darkness."' Mr. Payson's situation was at this time truly critical and EDWARD PAYSON. 127 dangerous. His reception as a preacher was flattering almost beyond example. Not one man in a thousand can bear human applause- uninjured. 1" Wo unto you," said Christ to his disciples,::when all men shall speak well of you." The most dreadful part of this wo is that which falls upon one's spiritual interests. Mr. Payson had scarcely been six weeks in Portland, before overtures were made to him, by each of the three Congregational societies, to become their teacher; and there was also a plan agitated to build him a new meeting-house. Applications from different parishes in the vicinity, and likewise from abroad, were frequent. The letters, which he wrote to his parents, at this period, contain interesting allusions to his circumstances: - "PORTLAND, SEPT. 12, 1807. "MY DEAREST PARENTS:-When I came here, I could not help indulging a secret hope, that I should be so favored as to see some happy effects resulting from it. I know not, however, whether it arose so high as hope; it was, perhaps, rather a wish. Whether this wish will in any degree be gratified, is at present uncertain. The people seem to rouse themselves up, and stare, and hardly know what to make of it. They, however, appear to exhibit less enmity and ill-will than I expected. Some of the principal men, who are not suspected of being very friendly to religion, say, as I am informed, that, to be sure, my sermons are rather hot, but they are convinced no other kind of preaching would ever do any good. Others say, it cuts up all their own foundation, and all their hopes of heaven; but they think it a duty to support these doctrines, because they are true. The congregation is very solemn and attentive; but I dare not yet hope for any lasting effects. Some are displeased, and have left the meeting; but there are three come from other meetings for one who goes away. The power of novelty, however, is great, and when that is over, I expect there will be less attention. and less crowded meetings." "I understand there is quite a revival of religion at North Yarmouth, about a dozen miles from this place. There have already been two or three there, and they seem to be remarkably favored. One memorable instance, which has lately taken place, I have just heard. Three females, the wives of three 128 MEMOIR OF sea-captains who were all at sea in different parts of the world. were deeply impressed, and, after severe convictions, obtained comfort. Just about the same time, all their absent husbands were converted at sea. The wives, meanwhile, were anxious for the spiritual welfare of their husbands, and the husbands were no less concerned for their wives. Judge what a hlappy meeting they must have had when they found what God had done for each other during their separation. The attention is still increasing, and there have been about thirty added to the church." SEPTEMBER 19. 1I have been ill a week of influenza, which a.ttacked me pretty severely. It seems as if it was sent to afford a fresh opportunity for displaying the unwearied care and kindness of our heavenly Father, in raising up friends whenever I want them. In this case, he has provided me a nurse and a mother in the woman who presides over the family in Mrs. K's absence. She has been doubting respecting her state, and her right to join the church for some years; and. was so thankful because I conversed with her on these subjects, that she was ready to kill me with kindness. In addition to this, I have been overwhelmed with preserves, jellies, &c. of the richest kinds, from all parts. Some have sent them in, from whom I should have little expected it. It seems as if God were putting it to trial, whether my insensible heart can be wrought upon by mercies. I fear the result of the trial will be, that nothing but severe judgments will answer. l I sometimes think it stra.nge, that, when God is so ready to bestow mercies, he does not enable us to receive them with more gratitude, and why he seems less ready to give us grace to conquer pride and self: Pray for me, my dear parents, that I may be enabled to conquer them." "SEPTEMBER 26. "I am, and have been, for some days, in a great dilemma. Last Monday, I had an application to preach for a new society here, which Mr. S., the missionary, has lately drawn together. They are building a meeting-house, and expect to be incorporated at the next session of the legislature. They have heard me at Mr. K's, and. intimated that. if I would come, they should probably settle me, as one man had offered a hundred pounds to lthe society on that condition, and thirty more had offered to subscribe EDWARD PAYSON. 129 for Pews. On Tuesday I had a most earnest invitation from Westboro' to come immlediately, and another from Gorham. They have also applied to me to come to Dr. Deane's parish, and preach for them; and now, this morning, Mr. Kellogg has a letter from Portsmouth, wishing me to come there immediately. On the other hand, Mr. K. insists upon it, that I ought to stay with him through the month of October. There seems to be some attention excited, and two persons have been convinced, and I hope converted, since I have been here. It is, I find, Mr. K.'s plan, if I should prove popular enough, to have a new society, and unite it with his own in such a manner, as to have one parish in two societies, and two ministers to preach in each house alternately. Now, my dear parents, what shall I do? I am so much afraid that I shall be left to lean to my own understanding, that I have no comfort. I wish to go to Portsmouth, because it is on my way home, but principally because the society there is in a bad state, and in great danger of breaking up and going to the Universalists. On the other hand, there seems to be a door opened for great usefulness here; and Providence has, in some measure, owned my labors, and the people seem very anxious to have me stay. If one could only hear the Spirit, as a voice behind him, saying,' This is the way, walk in it,'-it seems duty would be easily discovered. I know that there is no need of being uneasy, when we have done the best we can to discover the path of duty; but there is so much self-seeking in every thing I do, that I cannot be sure I have sincerely sought to discover the path of duty. It is such a dreadful thing to be left to follow one's own guidance. ly dear father, do write to me." The following sentences from his diary will be regarded as a curiosity by those who are acquainted with Dr. Payson's eminence as a ready speaker: — "SEPT. 25. In the evening, went to a conference, and for the first time expounded extempore. Made out poorly." His rapidly rising fame, and the flattering attentions paid him as a preacher, injurious as they can hardly fail to be, did not divert MIr. Payson from the great object of the ministry of reconciliation. If his desire for personal holiness was exceeded by any other, it was by the desire of the salvation of sinners. VOL. I. 17 130O FnIMEMOIR OF';PT. 27. Sab. Was favored with great and unusual assistance both parts of the day, and the people were remarkably serious and attentive. Came home overwhelmed with a sense of the astonishing goodness of God. Felt grateful, humble, and contrite, and was enabled to ascribe all the glory to God. In the evening, was favored with great faith and fervency in prayer. It seemed as if God would deny me nothing, and I wrestled for multitudes of souls, and could not help hoping there would be some revival here. "'SEPT. 28. Found that my labors have not been altogether without effect. Was favored with the greatest degree of freedom and fervency in interceding for others. I seemed to travail in birth with poor sinners, and could not help hoping that God is about to do something for his glory and the good of souls. "SEPT. 29. Was considerably affected with a view of the awful condition of sinners, and was favored with some freedom in praying for them. I know not what to think, but at present there seem to be some indications in Providence, that this is to be my station in the vineyard. I desire to bless God, that he scarcely suffers me either to hope or fear the event, but to feel resigned to whatever he may appoint. "SEPT. 30. Felt much of a dependent, confiding, child-like spirit. God is doing great things for me. I never enjoyed such a season before, as I have for these three days past. My heart overflows with love and thankfulness to God and pity for poor sinners. ":OCT. 4. Went to meeting with more of a solemn frame than usual. Was greatly assisted, and the congregation was apparently very solemn and devout. Was ready to sink, to see how easily the impression seemed to wear off.'OCT. 7. Visited two persons under conviction, conversed and prayed with them. Had a most refreshing season in secret prayer. Renewed covenant with God. My soul seemed to dilate and expand with happiness. All the stores of divine grace were opened, and I took freely for myself and others. Was assisted to plead for poor sinners. "OCT. 8. Was favored with clear displays of the divine glory this morning, and was enabled to rejoice in God with joy unspeakable. Felt sweetly humbled and resigned to every thing which should befall me. In the afternoon preached a EDWARD PAYSON. 131 lecture, and was left dry and barren. In the evening, preached another, and was very greatly assisted. Came home humbled in the dust under some stirrings of spiritual pride, which I could not repress. Was favored with a most refreshing season in secret prayer. Felt that love which casteth out fear, and hung on the bosom of my God with inexpressible pleasure. The Scriptures too were exceedingly sweet. Had been in some perplexity respecting the path of duty; but was helped to roll the whole burden upon Him. "OCT. 9. Was visited by a minister who heard me preach last evening, and received many valuable hints from him respecting my feelings in prayer and preaching. "OCT. 11. Never was in such an agony before in wrestling for mercies, especially in behalf of poor souls, and for a work of religion in this place. My soul seemed as if it would leave the body, and mount to heaven in the most ardent desires for their salvation. Went by invitation to spend the evening in an irreligious family. Found several assembled, and to my very great but pleasing surprise, the conversation took a very serious, religious turn. Came home, loping that God was on the point of doing something in this place, but was so worn out, that I had little life in prayer. "'OCT. 16. Church meeting — a profitable and refreshing time. Some new persons are awakened; Christians are stirred up, and there is every reason to hope God is on the point of appearing for us. "OCT.. 17. Was enabled, in some measure, to mourn over my pride and selfishness, unbelief, and hardness of heart. Having last evening proposed to the church that we should spend an hour this evening in prayer, separately, for the outpouring of the Spirit, attempted to pray, but feared my motives were selfish. However, prayed that God's people might not be ashamed on my account. " Was informed that the church and congregation had given me a unanimous call. I know not what Providence intends by this. Went and spread the matter before God, and entreated him to overrule all things to his own glory. "OCT. 19. Spent the whole day in conversing with persons exercised in their minds. In the evening, visited and prayed with a number of persons, who met for that purpose. 132 MEMOIR OF "OCT. 20. Felt something of the constraining influence of the love of Christ. For some nights past, have been laboring in my sleep with poor souls. Felt strong in the Lord and in the power of his might. In the afternoon, went to visit two persons in distress, and found them in a hopeful way. In the evening, preached a lecture extempore. Was not much assisted myself, but what was said seemed to come with power. Many were in tears, and all seemed stirred up; so that, though I went crushed down under discouragement, I came back rejoicing. "OCT. 22. Began to feel more clear respecting my compliance with the call I have received. " OCT. 23. Was left to murmur and feel impatient, and my proud, unhumbled heart rose against God; but he was graciously pleased to touch my heart, and bring me on my knees before him, and thus I obtained pardon. In the evening, attended a conference, and preached. Was very much shut up, but found it was a most refreshing season to many of God's people, so that I was astonished to see how God could work by the most feeble means. " OCT. 24. Went to visit a man almost in despair. He talked like a Christian, but was in dreadful distress, and rejected all comfort. Prayed with him, but in vain. " OCT. 25. Visited and prayed with a sick woman. Found her and her husband under strong convictions. In the evening, was visited by persons under concern of mind, and conversed writh them.' OCT. 27. In the evening, attended a conference, and preached to a crowded and solemn audience. Saw the hand of God evidently appearing in it,.and came home strengthened, though I had gone much cast down. " OCT. 28. Felt some gratitude and humility this morning. Wondered how God could choose such a worthless wretch to bestow such favors upon. Dined with a*, a lawyer, and had much religious conversation with him, with which he seemed much affected. In the evening, met a number who were under serious impressions. Conversed and prayed with them. "OCT. 29. Was greatly drawn out in prayer for a continuance of God's presence, and for myself and some particular friends. Spent the day in visiting a number of persons who were under concern, and found tw+ some who had been dear to EDWARD PAYSON. 133 my heart, and who I could hardly hope were under conviction, appeared to have met with a real change. Was overwhelmed with wonder, love, and gratitude, at the goodness of God; but, as an offset to this, was informed of some injurious observations, and was, moreover, harassed and almost distracted with doubts where Providence called me to settle; but was able, at length, to cast the burden upon the Lord." On the 30th of October, he set out on a journey to his father's, taking Portsmouth on his way, where he preached on the Sabbath, and received a request from the people to tarry among them, which he felt it his duty to decline. He reached home November 3, and spent the following day in conversing with his friends:-" Consulted them respecting my call, and found that they were unanimous in advising me t'o accept the call of M'r. Kellogg's parish. Rejoiced to see my path made plain before me. " Nov. 6. Parted from my friends with prayer, and set out for Portsmouth in a violent storm, which continued most of the day. Was harassed with storms within, part of the way, but afterwards was calm.' Nov. 8. Was favored with a most sweet, refreshing season, before meeting, in secret prayer. Preached three times, the last to a crowded and solemn assembly. Was invited to stay and preach on probation, but was obliged to decline.' Nov. 9. Rode to Portland. Was favored on the road wih very clear manifestations of God's love. Felt most ardent emo. tions of gratitude, with full resolutions to devote myself to the service of God. Was overwhelmed with a sense of his mercies, and my own unworthiness. " Nov. 10. Had a deep sense of the difficulty and importance of the gospel ministry, and of my own utter insufficiencyfor it. Was ready to sink under it, till in some measure relieved by a view of the fulness and sufficiency of Christ. Moses and Jeremiah were very encouraging examples. "' Nov. 13. In the evening, attended a church conference, and preached. Divine truth, though in an humble garb, came with great poNlr, and the hearers seemed much affected. After coming home, heard of some difficulty, made by one of the churcn 134 IMEMOIR OF members, respecting the baptismal covenant, which I wish to have given up. Committed the case to God. Nov. 15. Preached and read my affirmative answer to the call. Was favored with liberty, and the people seemed to be affected. "Nov. 17. Visited a sick man; found him partly deranged, clasping a Bible to his breast, which he would not sdffer to be taken. from him. " Nov. 30. Very unwell. From some symptoms, feel apprehensive that my cough may terminate in a consumption; but the thought is not disagreeable. The only thing painful about it is the pain it would give my parents. "DEC. 1. Had a sleepless, painful night, but, through divine goodness, was kept patient, and even cheerful. Was very sick in the morning. " DEC. 3. Still quite unwell, but had a sight of my necessities, and was helped to cry out for assistance. P. M. H-ad a sweet season in prayer. Could pray sincerely, that others might be exalted above me in gifts and graces, and that souls might be converted, let who would be the instrument. Felt weaned from the world, and resigned to whatever might befall me. " DEC. 4. Extremely weak. Am convinced that I cannot live many years, if many months. Went out to see a sick person, and took more cold. " DEc. 7. Rose early; was in a cloudy kind of frame. Visited and prayed with a number of sick people. In the evening, was favored with a deep view of the importance and lmagnitude of the ministry, and had much freedom in crying for grace to help. " DEC. 9. Though I have less sensible comfort, faith seems to be in exercise, and I will still trust in God, though he slay me. " IEC. 10. Was seized with the symptoms of a fever. "DEC. 11. Begin to think seriously that my time is short. My lungs appear to be deeply affected, and the result may be fatal. " DEc. 12. Had a melting season in prayer this morning. Felt viler than the vilest. Spent the evening with my father who came to attend the ordination. " DEC. 14. My body and mind seemed alike weak and inca EDWARD PAYSON. 135 pable of exertion. My cough increases and bids fair to terminate in a consuniption. " DEC. 15. Rose extremely unwell; and continued so during the day. Could do nothing. In the evening, tried to pray, but was soon interrupted by weakness and lassitude. " DEC. 16. ORDINATION. Rose very early, and renewed my covenant with God, taking him for my portion, and giving myself up to him for the work of the Gospel ministry. Had considerable assistance in this, and in seeking ministerial qualifications; but my strength failed. Felt in something of a'quiet, happy, dependent frame in meeting, especially during the ordaining prayer." It is peculiarly gratifying to peruse such a record as this last paragraph contains, of the state of his mind on this most solemn and eventful occasion. That a mind so highly susceptible, and so frequently borne down to the very dust by its overwhelming sense of ministerial responsibility, should be preserved in this quiet, happy, dependent frame," while in the act of assuming the most weighty and momentous of all trusts ever committed to man,-of consummating that sacred connexion which was to affect the everlasting weal or wo of numerous undying souls,can be ascribed to nothing but the special favor of God. It should be noticed in honor of His faithfulness, who will not desert his devoted servants in any trying emergency. In anticipation of this crisis, and under the responsibilities of the labors which were conducting him to it, he had habitually cast his burden upon the Lord; and by the Lord was that burden sustained. His mind was kept in peace, for it was stayed on God. " A man's heart deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth his steps." Mr. Payson went to Portland with no expectation, probably, of making that his permanent residence, but merely to supply, temporarily, Mr. Kellogg's pulpit. Mr. K., undoubtedly, had a further design in procuring his assistance, even from the first; but its accomplishment was suspended on circumstances yet to be developed, and it could not, therefore, be properly disclosed. But when. on experiment, he saw the young preacher's labors so well received by the people, and so evidently blessed, he spared no endeavors to retain his valuable services, which he showed himself willing to do at the expense of any reasonable sacrifice. 1.36 ME OI1R O F With the feelings, and principles, and rigid self-discipline, the consciousness of human guilt and weakness, and of the consequent necessity of an atonement, and a divine power to work all our works in us and for us, which are to be recognised in the extracts that have been given, it is not to be presumed that Mr. Payson would show much indulgence to a lax theology, which degrades the Saviour, and flatters man. It was from deep-rooted principle, that he could not hold fellowship with such doctrines, and that he abstained, in his ministerial intercourse, from all official acts, which would be interpreted as a token of such fellowship. Hence he endured no small share of obloquy, for which those of a different faith are not exclusively responsible. The steadfastness with which he avoided giving the least countenance to what he regarded as "another gospel," must have been greatly confirmed by the exercises at his ordination. The sermon on this occasion, preached by his venerable father, was founded on 1 Tim. v. 22,-"' Lay hands suddenly on no man, neither be partaker of other men's sins,"- and well illustrated the apostle's " caution against introducing persons suddenly into the ministry, and the reason with which that caution is enforced." Some portions of it seem to have been almost prophetic; they show, at least, that the author was "able to discern the signs of the time.' The paragraphs containing the application of the subject to his son, the pastor elect, will be here inserted. Though the circumstances in which they were uttered were suited to render them peculiarly impressive, they will be found to possess an interest and importance to commend them to general attention, independently of the occasion. " In fulfilling his purposes of mercy to our apostate race, it has pleased a sovereign God to constitute an order of men to preach the unsearchable riches of Christ, and thus to co-operate with himself in accomplishing that object, upon which his adorable Son came into our world. That it is permitted me to assist in introducing you, my dear son, into this highly favored number, as a fellow-worker with God in this glorious design, is an act of his grace, for which I hope our hearts are unitedly adoring his sovereign love. How astonishing is the goodness of God to his unworthy creatures! How great the honor of EDWARD PAYSON. 137 being admitted to share in the glory of that work which is all his own! This, however, is not the hour of triumph. Your feelings, I hope, accord with that maxim of wisdom -- Let not him who girdeth on the harness boast himself as he that putteth it oif.' Under the wise and holy government of God, no station or office confers honor, but in connection with a faithful discharge of its duties. If we would obtain that honor which cometh from God only, it must be by'patient continuance in well doing.' The glories which now crown the human nature of the Lord Jesus Christ, were won in the field of battle. They are the just reward of invincible virtue and unexampled benevolence.'o be admitted into the number of his ministers, is honorable for this reason only, that we are thus brought into the field, where the highest honor is to be won; where all the virtuous feelings of the heart have full play; and where an opportunity is afforded of bringing into action all the energies of the soul, in a service most intimately connected with the glory of God, and the salvation of mankind. In this distinguished station, we are eminently a spectacle to the world, to angels, and to men. "Your path of duty is made plain by the light both of precept and example. Every motive which can influence the human mind prompts you to fidelity; and, for your encouragement to go boldly forward in the line of duty, almighty love openls its inexhaustible stores of wisdom, grace, and strength, inviting you to drawl near and receive according to your necessities. The object of the observations, which have now been made, is to impress you with a sense of the importance of investigating, so far as human imperfection will admit, the characters and qualifications of candidates for the ministerial office. To me this subject appears of vast, and, from the character of the age in which we live, of increasing importance. It is far from being ny wish to see you contending for particular forms of expressing divine truth, or zealously engaged in supporting points, respecting which, through remaining imperfection, wise and good men are divided. This is far beneath the dignified object, which ought to engage the attention of the Christian minister. But, if my most earnest entreaties, if a father's solemn charge, have any influence, never will you be induced to employ the powers of ordination, with which you are now to be VOL. i. 18 138 MEMOIR OF invested, in raising the enemies of God and his truth to the pernicioits eminence of teachers in the Christian church. In pursuing this leading object, it has been my aim to present to your mind the distinguishing characteristics of the pastor after God's own heart. I hope no earthly attainment appears in your view so desirable as that meekness and faithfulness, that superiority to selfish views, and those fervent, holy, disinterested affections, of which a sketch has now been exhibited. May they ever be the sole objects of your ambition, and be pursued with all that ardor, activity, diligence, and perseverance, with which the children of this world pursue its pleasures, its honors, and wealth. " In laboring to form your mind to ministerial fidelity, may I not hope for some assistance from that active principle of filial affection, which has ever rendered you studious of a father's comfort? I can think with calmness, nay, with a degree of pleasure, of your suffering for righteousness' sake; and, should the world pour upon you its obloquy, its scorn and reproach, for your fidelity to your Master's cause, a father's heart would still embrace you with, if possible, increased fondness. But to see you losing sight of the great objects which ought to engage your attention, courting the applause of the world, infected with the infidel sentiments of the day, and neglecting the immortal interests of those now about to be committed to your care; —this, 0 my son, I could not support. It would bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. But is it possible, that in such a cause, with such motives to fidelity, and with prospects, may I not add, so peculiarly pleasing as those which now surround you, you should, notwithstanding, prove unfaithful? It is possible; for there is nothing too base, too ungrateful, or destructive of our own most important interests, for human nature to commit; and, unless the grace of the Lord Jesus preserve you, the glory of God will be forgotten, your Saviour will by you be crucified afresh, and his cause exposed to shame; your sacred character will become your reproach, and, instead of the blessings of many ready to perish, you will accumulate the curses of perishing souls upon your head. May your preservation from this awfiul fate be the theme of our future eternal praises. " Contemplating the sublimity of the apostolic pattern, do you ask, How shall I attain to such activity, such zeal, such purity, EDWARD PAY S ON. 139 such disinterestedness, and ardor of affection? Remember Paul was nlthing. I-He himself makes the confession.'It is not I,' says he,' that live, but Christ, that liveth in me; and the life which I now live in tile flesh, I live by faith on the Son of God.' Thus you may live; thus you may come off more than a conqueror, and, though in yourself but a worm, may thresh the mountains of opposition, and beat them small as the dust. Should the blessed Redeemer grant-and grant he will, if you seek them - the influences of his Spirit, your happy soul will mount up as on eagles' wings, and rise to all those heights of holy affection, to which the great apostle soared. But I must set bounds to the effusion of feelings, which have, perhaps, already exhausted the patience of this assembly. Receive, my dear son, in one word, the sum of all a father's fond wishes Be thou faithful unto death.' " CHAPTER VIII. His concern for his flock. Reverse in his temporal prospects. Is taken from his work by sickness. THE wisdom of God shines with most amiable lustre in the institutions of religion. The intelligent and devout observer sees in them evident traces of a divine original. They were ordained by him who "' knew what was in man," and recognise most advantageously the leading principles of human nature. They have multiplied the relations which subsist among men, as social beings, and given to social qualities an incalculable value. They cement every tie which binds man to his fellow, and sweeten the enjoyments of every connexion. They heighten all the endearments of domestic life, and are designed and adapted to bring all mankind into one harmonious and happy family. Tlhough they do not obliterate the distinctions of rank and office, and especially that of a teacher, they instruct'"the head not to say to the foot, I have no need of thee." In the church of Christ, the most closely compacted and endearing brotherhood which exists on earth, a common, fraternal affection is reciprocated by its members-an affection growing out of, and continually cherished by, their mutual dependence, their common wants, and the sameness of their relation to their Malker and Redeemer. In addition to this, there is, in this blood-bought and sacred society, the relation of pastor and flock, which swells the aggregate of benefit received and of happiness enjoyed, in proportion to the niumbers included in it. And when this relation is entered into from evangelical motives, and with a right spirit, a gushing forth of the affections is felt, which EDW A R P AYSO N. 141 was never felt before - a well-spring is opened, which time cannot dry up, and which renders the pastor's labor and toil, for the salvation of his charge, his choice and his felicity. Mr. Payson had already exhibited an interest in the welfare of souls, and a desire for their salvation, so great as to seem almost incapable of increase; but, as soon as the pastoral relation was consummated, he regarded those committed to his oversight with anl appropriating, an endearing love, which identified their interests and happiness with his own. " DEC. 7. Was favored with freedom and assistance il writing and prayer, and felt a strong love for the people of my charge. In the evening, attended a meeting of those who are under concern, and had some assistance.' DEC. 18. Felt in a sweet, dependent frame, and had liberty to cast myself and parish upon God. " DEC.. 19. Awoke twice, after a day of excessive fatigue, drenched in a profiuse sweat, and concluded that my time was short. "DEC. 20. Sabbath. Extremely weak. Felt as if 1 could not preach. In the afternoon, preached an occasional sermon, and was wonderfully carried through. Blessed be God. "DEC. 21. Had a sweet season in prayer. My soul felt strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. I longed to spend and be spent in his service, and wondered at his astonishing goodness to such an unworthy wretch. Spent the whole day in visiting, with some profit and pleasure. In the evening, talked to a number of people on the nature of religion. After returning, found myself much exhausted. Feel convinced that I am in a consumption, and may as well die as cease my exertions." His illness continued severe for several days, so that he was directed by his physician to keep within. He enjoyed, on the whole, much quietness and resignation, but says, " I longed to be abroad among my people." Dec. 26, ten days after his ordination, he expectorated blood, and " viewed it as his deathwarrant, but felt tolerably calm and resigned." Three days later, however, he is found preaching an evening lecture. The calamities occasioned by the aggressions of foreign 142 MEM I R OF belligerents, and by the restrictions imposed on commerce by our own government, fell at this time with peculiar weight upon the inhabitants of Portland. The darkest season through which the United States have passed since their independence, had now commenced. The distresses of the times are the subject of frequent allusion by Mr. Payson in his diary. The stagnation of business; the failures among the principal merchants, the hundreds of citizens and seamen thrown out of employment, and left destitute of the means of subsistence, and the sufferings of the poor, called forth largely his sympathy. To him, the town seemed threatened with universal bankruptcy; and, whether with good reason or not, he considered the means of his own temporal support as cut off. But the tranquillity of his mind was never more uniform than at this calamitous season; and the object of his supreme desire and efforts was to turn the distresses of the people to their spiritual advantage, rightly judging, that " the walls of Jerusalem might be built in trolublous times." A picture of these distresses, as they appeared to him at the time, is drawn in a letter to his parents, dated PORTLAND, DEC. 28, 1807. " Whlen father was here, he observed that my prospects were almost too happy for this world. They were so, it appears; for they are now as unfavorable, humanly speaking, as ther. were then flattering. The prospect of war has produced here such a scene of wretchedness as I never before witnessed. A large number of the most wealthy merchants have already failed, and numbers more are daily following, so that we are threatened with universal bankruptcy. Two failures alone have thrown at least three hundred persons, besides sailors, out of employ; and you may hence conceive, in some measure, the distress which the whole number must occasion. The poor-house is already full, and hundreds are yet to be provided for, who have depended on their own labor for daily bread, and who have neither the means of supporting themselves here, nor of removing into the country. Many, who have been brought up in affluence, are now dependent on the cold courtesy of creditors for a protection from the inclemency of the season. These things, however, are but the ibeginning of sorrows. As soon as the news of these failures reach —, every man there, who has a hundred dollars owing EDWARD PAYSON. 143 to him in Portland, will send down to secure it; and the general stagnation of business is such, that a man who is possessed of ten thousand dollars, in real or personal estate, may not be able to answer a demand of five hundred, though it were to save him from ruin. If these times continue, nine tenths of the people here will be scattered to the four winds. I have scarcely a hope of receiving more than enough to pay my board, if I should stay till next spring: and Mr. K. will want all his salary to support himself, as lie fears that all his property is swallowed up in the general destruction. These failures have brought to light many instances of dishonesty among those in whose integrity unbounded confidence was placed. And now all confidence is lost; no man will trust his neighbor; but every one talkes even his brother' by the throat, saying, Pay me that thou owest.' But I cannot describe, and I doubt whether you can conceive, of the distress we are in.'" And now you will, perhaps, be grieved at this sudden blast of all my fine prospects, and cry,'Poor Edward!' But you never had more reason to rejoice on my behalf, and to cry,'Rich Edward!' than now: for, blessed be God, my portion does not stand on such tottering foundations as to be shaken by these commotions. My dear parents, my dear sister, do not feel one emotion of sorrow on my account, but rather join with me in blessing God that he keeps me quiet, resigned, and even happy, in the midst of these troubles. I do not pretend not to feel them, however. All my worldly hopes are, apparently, destroyed; and many of those who are now ready to be turned into the streets are the dearest friends I have here; not to mention the distress of the poor, who will, in human probability, soon be in a starving condition. In these circum-stances, it is impossible not to feel. Still, if God is pleased to afford me the same degree of support which he has hitherto, I shall be more happy than ever I was. I thougiht I knew, before, that this world was treacherous, and its enjoyments transitory; but these things have talught me this truth so much plainer, and weaned me so much more from creature dependences, that I desire to consider them among my chief mercies. It has long been my prayer, that if God had any worldly blessings in store for rre, he would be pleased to give me grace instead of them, or change them into spiritual blessings; and now lie begins to grant. my 144 M E MO I R OF request. I am sorry for H.'s disappointment, and my own inability to assist pa' out of his difficulties, which I once hoped I should be able to do. But I trust they will be sanctified, if they are not removed. What a blessed portion the believer has in the word of God, if he has only a hand given him to lay hold on it! But too often our hands are withered, and heed not the divine command to stretch them out. " I tremble for our poor country. I fear the decree has gone out against her. My sins have helped to call down judgmlents upon her, and I desire to take what falls to my share, and bless God that my punishment is no heavier, and no more proportioned to my deserts. But nothing seems too bad to expect from present appearances. If we escape civil war, it will be well. "JANUARY 5, 1808. "I would not finish my letter before, because I could say nothing favorable respecting my health, which was then worse than ever, but, blessed be God, seems now unaccountably restored. The tumult in town has subsided into a dead calm; the embargo has put a stop to every thing like business, and people have now nothing to do but attend to religion; and we endeavor to give them meetings enough, since they have leisure to attend them. Next week, we purpose to keep a town fast, on account of our distressed situation. I am not without hopes that these things may be overruled to bring about a more extensive reformation. The attention appears to continue, and we hear of new instances of persons under concern. Feel no uneasiness respecting me. The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. The people are very kind, increasingly so. Some of our young converts have lost their all, and had their houses stripped; and it does my heart good to see them cheerful and quiet under it; while others, who have no God, have lost their reason, or, worried almost incessantly, are apparently dying of a broken heart, or uttering the most bitter and distressing complaints. But it is a heart-rending sight to see those who have no other portion stripped naked of all worldly good. Their gods are taken away, and what have they more?" " JAN. 5. I find myself, from day to day, in the situation of a poor beggar, with nothing to plead but my necessities. In the EDWARD P A YS ON. 145 evening, preached to a serious audience, and was greatly encouraged to hope for a reformation more general. Was much drawn out in prayer, both at meeting and after I came home. " JAN. 6. Hope that God is quickening me to run the way of his commandments with a more enlarged heart. "JAN. 10. Preached, and baptized seven persons, and administered the sacrament. Felt entirely exhausted. My constitution seems to be much broken, and a little labor wears me out. "JAN. 13. This day was devoted to fasting and prayer, by the town, on account of the present gloomy appearances. " JAN. 14. Hope the strong workings of corruption I have experienced will make me more humble, and the gracious pardon I have received, more thankful. " JAN. 17. Sabbath. Was alarmed by cry of fire during family prayer. It did considerable damage, but, by God's goodness, was got under, though the town was in imminent danger. Was much assisted in seeking a divine blessing on all our afflictions. Had no meeting in the forenoon. In the afternoon, preached with some liberty. "JAN. 22. In the evening, preached, and was much refreshed and strengthened in my own soul. Found the Lord's work is going on. O what shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits. "JAN. 24. Sabbath. Was favored with a sweet season in pleading for the divine presence. H-oped that God would make this a day of his power and grace. Was greatly assisted. Have lately been favored with more love to God, and zeal for Christ, than I used to have, and feel more compassion for sinners. "JAN. 25. Seem to have some respite from the workings of corruption. Spent the day in visiting my people, and found many somewhat exercised. In the evening, attended a conference with inquirers. Found some new cases, and had a pleasant evening. "JAN. 26. Felt eager desires to be wholly conformed to Christ, and to be carried away with the constraining influence of his love. " FEB. 4. Was overwhelmed with wonder, shame, and conVOL. 1. 19 146 MEMOIR OF fusion, to reflect on the innumerable mercies I had received, and the ungrateful returns I had made. In the afternoon, preached at the poor-house, and found some of them much affected." Soon after this, he was seized with a violent pleuritic affection, which rendered speaking a most painful and difficult exercise. The pain continued for some length of time, attended by various discouraging symptoms. He did not neglect to call in medical aid; and the prescriptions of physicians were partially blessed. But the moment he felt a little relieved, he would resume his labors, " go to a conference, take more cold, and come home much worse." Repeatedly during this illness, when he was necessarily confined to his room, he enters a notice of this kind-" Spent almost the whole day in conversing with persons who were exercised with spiritual trials;" and every such day was one of great fatigue, at the close of which, " all his alarming symptoms would return with great violence." When his conversation with inquirers was not prolonged to weariness, it proved " refreshing to his spirits." Though he-found it " trying to be laid aside as a broken vessel, when the people were willing to hear," he could still bless God for sweet resignation to the divine will. " Could not feel a wish respecting the continuance of my life; but had God referred the matter to me, I should refer it back again to him. My only wish was-if I lived-to live unto the Lord; and, if I died, to die unto the Lord." In the latter part of February, his physician found it necessary to forbid his preaching for several Sabbaths to come, and was in a measure successful in enforcing the prohibition, as his patient does not appear to have gone out to any religious meeting for more than a fortnight, when he ventured to "attend a conference with those under concern, where he found several new inquirers, and was carried through beyond expectation." But the exposure was followed by a dangerous relapse, so that he thought his "health irrecoverably gone." He expresses no "grief" on this account, except as it "disabled him from attending meeting with those under concern." But the reader will prefer to learn his feelings and circumstances from his own words: EDWARD PAYSON. 147 " AMARC 26. Had an exceedingly painful night, worse than ever, but had some satisfaction in thinking of going to be with Christ. In the evening, was extremely unwell, and suffered great pain. " MARCH 27. Sabbath. In the morning, was very ill; but was carried to meeting in the afternoon, though I could not preach. Was too weak to have much comfort at meeting, and came home very low spirited. "3 ARCH 28. Am pretty well convinced that my disease is mortal. My mind partakes so much of the weakness of my body, that I can do nothing in religion, and can scarcely refrain from peevishness and fretting. " MARCH 30. Had a most sweet and refreshing season in secret prayer this morning. Felt more ardent love to Christ than I have for some time, and was sweetly melted under a sense of my ingratitude. Was resigned to his will respecting me, and was willing to depart and be with him. " APRIL 2. Conversed with some persons, who came in to see me, respecting means to be taken for the suppression of profanity and Sabbath breaking. " APRIL 3. Sabbath. Was able to attend meeting and preach part of the day. Was favored with some liberty at the sacrament, and had some foretaste of heaven, and desire to enjoy it. Am much afraid the reformation is going off. Was assisted to pray that the work might go on, and also in praying for myself, so that I hope the Lord has been pleased to strengthen me on this occasion. "APRIL 4. Had unusual earnestness in prayer this morning, both for myself and others, and was sweetly melted in reading the divine word. Was depressed by finding that the town would do nothing respecting the observance of the Sabbath. Was enabled to pour out my sorrows and complaints before God with some degree of freedom. "d APRIL 7. This day being our annual fast, I endeavored to humble myself before God for my personal sins, as well as our public transgressions, to renew covenant with God, and devote myself with new zeal to his service. Was likewise assisted in pleading with God for more grace, and life, and light, in my own soul, and in the souls of my people; and that the reformation which has begun may be carried on gloriously and triumphantly 148 MEMOIR OF among us. In the morning, attended meeting, and heard a most excellent sermon from Mr. K. In the afternoon, preached with some degree of assistance.' APRIL 8. Had a very uncomfortable night, but was sweetly refreshed and strengthened in secret prayer this morning. It is long since I have found so much of the divine presence. Was much assisted in praying for a revival of religion: and cannot but hope God will yet bless us still more abundantly. " APRIL 9. Was employed most of the day in visiting. Was troubled with some who wished to join the church without being qualified. ( APRIL 14. Attended a conference for those under concern, and was refreshed to see a goodly number, and to trace the operations of the divine Spirit upon their minds. " APRIL 15. Was so oppressed with a sense of vileness) that it seemed impossible for me to come; and had such a sight of God's goodness, that it was impossible for me not to come. " APRIL 19. 0, how sweet and refreshing it is to get above the load of sins, sorrows, and corruptions, which oppress us, and taste a little of communion with God! " APRIL 20. Was strengthened with all might in the inner man, and enabled to renew covenant with God with great joy and sincerity. "APRIL 21. I have long been in a lethargy, but I trust God is now bringing me out of it. Find great and unusual sweetness in the Bible, of late, for which I have long been praying; and likewise a deeper sense of the importance of time, - another blessing for which I have long been seeking. The enemy, taking advantage of my great weakness, threw me into a most sinful frame of mind; but, on application to him who stills the waves, the tumult of my mind was stilled, and there was a great calm. " APRIL 22. Was favored with some intense hungerings and thirstings after righteousness. Was led to believe, from certain circumstances, that my case was almost desperate, but felt most sweetly resigned. My only wish was that God might be glorified, either by my life or death. APRIL 23. Was assisted in prayer through the day. My heart seemed ready to break with its longings after holiness. Found unusual sweetness in reading: the Scriptures. Am much EDWARD PAYSON. 149 encouraged by the Lord's unusual goodness to me, that he is about to carry on his work still more gloriously in this place. " APRIL 25. Was constrained to feel the truth of our Lord's declaration,' Without me ye can do nothing. " The following paragraphs from letters written during this spring will not be uninteresting:"PORTLAND, MARCH 28, 1808. "MY DEAREST MOTHER: The Sabbath after I wrote to Grata, I preached, as I expected; but it proved too much for me, and I have not preached since, nor do I expect to till the weather grows warmer. Meanwhile the attention to religion seems to be at a stand, and whether it will not wholly subside, is more than we can tell. I need not say that this is a trial; but, blessed be God, he makes it lighter than I could have thought it possible. It is true I have not much sensible or positive comfort; but I am kept perfectly quiet and resigned, and can hardly find whether I have any will or not. Should my health not be perfectly re-established before warm weather, I shall probably make a journey home. The people are abundantly kind, and suffer me to want for nothing which they can supply. Mr. K. is as kind to me as the parish, and, though he is almost overwhelmed with labor, yet he will not suffer me to expose myself in the least. " Now, after enumerating all these mercies, you will conclude, of course, that I am all wonder and gratitude, and that the constant language of my heart is,'What shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits?' That I ought to be so, I am very sensible; but, alas, how far from it I am in reality! I do indeed feel some wonder how God can be so good; such a kind of wonder as we feel when thinking of his eternity or infinite power; but as to gratitude, I hardly know by experience what it means. I once used to think that I did feel grateful, when I had not half the reason for it which I now have; but I have done thinking so. I have done trying to praise God for his mercies. All we can do falls so far short of what we owe, that it seems little better than mockery to thank him in our feeble language, and I can only stand in stupid astonishment to see how good he will be notwithstanding all I can do to prevent it. 150 MEMOIR OF 0, how true it is, that he will have mercy on whom he will have mercy! I can hardly help praying, sometimes, that he would take away all he has bestowed, so that, if I must sin, I need not sin against such overwhelming goodness. But it is as natural for him to be good and kind, as it is for us to abuse his goodness; and sooner shall our wicked hearts cease to sin, than he cease to pardon and forgive sin. "The embargo, humanly speaking, will be detrimental to the morals of the people here. They have now nothing to do but saunter about, and then, of course, they get into all manner of mischief; and I fear they will lose all habits of industry and sobriety. However, if I have any health, vwe shall endeavor to multiply meetings, and take up as much of their time as possible in that way." "PORTLAND, APRIL 18, 1808. "Yes, my dearest mother, I did think of my friends at Rindge when I apprehended I was about to leave them. They were almost, if not altogether, the only things that I felt the least regret at the idea of quitting; but that regret was alleviated, if not wholly removed, by the consoling hope, that I should soon meet them again, to be separated no more. But, my dear mother, why this anxiety? If I wish for life, it would distress me exceedingly to see you thus anxious, because I should fear it would lead God to remove from you one for whom you indulge so much concern. I shall certainly live as long as I have any thing to do for the divine glory; for'we are immortal till our work is done;' and you, surely could not wish me to live after that is accomplished. Ever since I have entertained a comfortable hope of my acceptance in the Beloved, it has been my constant wish, that what I had to do might be done speedily; and if God should see fit to grant this wish, will it not be better than if I should be a long time in performing the work allotted, and drag on a wearisome life to no purpose? It was my great consolation, while taken off from active service, and laid aside as a broken vessel and a foot out of joint, that we may glorify God as much by patiently suffering, as by actively doing his will; and I hope this consolation will be yours, should he see fit to appoint me a life of weakness, pain, and suffering, or remove me first from this state of trial. It is a striking proof EDWARD PAYSON. 151 of our depravity, that when God favors us with special mercies, he sees it necessary to send special afflictions, to teach us our dependence and keep us humble. Could I have continued suitably humble and thankful under the mercies I have lately received with respect to my settlement here, and the out-pourings of the Spirit, he never would have frustrated, first, my temporal prospects, and afterwards, by sickness, as it were cast me out of his vineyard, as an unworthy and an unfaithfful laborer. But I not only deserved, but indispensably needed, all that has befallen me; and I desire to bless him for these afflictions, by which, when my roots began to shoot into and cleave to the earth, he plucked them up before they were too deeply and firmly fixed, and thus experimentally taught me not to look for or expect any happiness beyond that of serving him here, but to wait for my reward in another world; a lesson of infinite importance, and which I greatly needed. But it is a lesson so hard for us, or at least for me, to learn, that I well foresee, if I am continued here any length of time, it will be necessary for God to impress it upon my mind again and again by repeated and multiplied disappointments. My disposition is naturally so ardent, that I can enjoy nothing with moderation, so that I must either be totally indifferent to worldly objects, or else love them to such a degree, as to render them idols; and then, of course, God must and will either imbitter or remove them. It is evident, therefore, that I must not expect worldly happiness; for perfect indifference to any object, or too much love for it, are equally incompatible with happiness; and these are the only two states of which I am capable. For this reason I fear ever to enter the marriage state, for I should most certainly love a wife too much or too little. I know not, however, whether I ought to regret this trait in my character, since, by cutting me off from other sources, it does, as it were, necessarily drive me to One whom I cannotlove or serve too much, and compel me to place all my hopes in a future state. Since you complain that I did not tell you what my sickness has been, I will now inform you, lest you should suppose it worse than it was. It was an inflammation of the lungs and adjoining parts, attended for several weeks with extreme debility, sharp pain, restlessness, loss of appetite, difficulty of breathing, and an inability to converse for any time together. I should, I 152 MEMOIR OF believe, have easily got over it, but I continued my labors much too long, hoping I should be able to drag along till warm weather, which, I trusted, would restore me. But after sacrament, when, by reason of the length of the services, I was so exhausted that I could scarcely sit in my chair, I was obliged to go out in a cold, raw evening, to converse and pray with a dying sailor, who had just found out that he had a soul to save. The next day was a violent storm, in which I imprudently went out to visit some sick persons, and, the day following, was seized with a sharp, pleuritic pain in my side. However, as it was lecture night, I was obliged to preach, which I got through with much pain and some difficulty, but was then constrained to give up. Still I believe my confinement would have been much shorter, had not persons continued to come and converse with me, who were under concern. I could not find it in my heart to send them away, and the temporary exhilaration of spirits, which seeing them gave me, prevented me from finding out at first how much talking injured me, so that, for a long time, I lost much faster than I gained. But the sun seems to be a physician superior to all the doctors, and his warm beams, under God, have in a good measure restored me.'Thus have I spent my health -an odious trickIn making known how oft I have been sick.' But if your patience is wearied, you must ascribe it to your own request, without which I should not have said a syllable on the subject." The " inflammation," he observes in another letter,' was brought on, by speaking in hot rooms, and then going out into the cold evening air." His illness proved, on the whole, a serious one; and he was obliged not only to suspend preaching, but to leave the scene of his labors before he could obtain relief. On the 27th of April, he set out for his father's house, to try the effect of a journey and a country residence on his health. " In crossing a stream, whose bridge had been carried away, he was thrown from his horse, and thoroughly wet, so that he could proceed no farther." The next day, "after riding about ten miles, he was seized with the symptoms of a violent fever, and obliged to stop, and take his bed." The third day, he pursued his journey moderately, but " in much pain and wealness, fearing that his lungs had been much injured by his late accident." EDWARD PAYSON. 153 Before night of the fourth day, he " was extremely exhausted." "Find that a fever comes on at night, and goes off with sweats in the morning." The next day was the Sabbath, which he spent in Milford, " weak in body and mind. After meeting, which he attended both parts of the day, had some conversation with a Universalist, but to little purpose." " May 2. Reached home, and was most kindly received. After the flow of spirits, occasioned by seeing friends, was over, found myself much exhausted by my journey." For several days after his arrival, he grew worse, till he " lost all strength and appetite," and was taken with a " hectic fever," as was then supposed, " attended with night sweats and some cough. He gave up all hope of recovering, and felt willing to die; had no murmuring thought." VOL. I. 20 CHAPTER IX. Resumes his pastoral labors. Letters. Review of the year. MR. PAYSON'S absence from his people was prolonged to a period of more than two months. During this time, he underwent much bodily suffering; but his resignation, and his demeanor generally, were such as became a man professing godliness. He obtained no relief, till near the close of this period, when he repaired to Boston for medical advice, by which he was encouraged to hope that he might again engage in preaching the gospel. His church observed a day of fasting and prayer on his account during his absence. He set out on his return to them, July 4th, not without "gloomy, melancholy fears. The work appeared great, the obstacles insurmountable, and his strength nothing." Most of the information, which could be collected respecting his circumstances for several succeeding months, is contained in letters, that were written to his parents and sister. "PORTLAND, WEDNESDAY EVENING, JULY 6, 180S. "MY DEAREST PARENTS: -When you see where and when this letter is dated, you will, I fear, be ready to exclam,'Imprudent boy! why will he not learn wisdom by experience?' But when you hear that no ill consequences have resulted from my haste, you will, I hope, pardon me. The truth is, when I got beyond the reach of the attraction of Rindge, which was not very soon, Portland began to draw with such irresistible force, 0 1 vvlur v~lur/r I~L~LI EDWARD PAYSON. ]35 that I found there would be no peace for me till I reached it. So, maugre my lame horse, who grew lamer and lamer every hour, I pressed on, and arrived here about six this afternoon. How it will be to-morrow, I cannot tell; but, at present, I am perfectly well, and never was less fatigued by a journey in my life. Mr.K. is out of town, attending an association, and my host, with his wife, is absent on a visit; so as yet I have seen nobody. " THURSDAY [MORN. " The crowd of anxious and interesting thoughts which engaged my mind on my return would not suffer me to rest much last night, and of course I feel rather languid this morning. Still however, I never felt less inconvenience from such a journey Mr. K. has just left me. He gives a discouraging account of the situation of religion. Several, whose convictions appeared to be of the right kind, have apparently lost them, and a general coldness seems to be prevailing. THURSDAY NIGHT. "Perhaps you saw lately an account of a man who was tried here for murder. He was found guilty, and is now in the condemned hole. I went this afternoon to visit him, and was greatly shocked and afflicted by a view of the bolts, chains, and other guards against escape. The entrance to his dungeon was by a small square hole, through which I could but just crawl by stooping double, and it was secured by a very thick door of solid iron. It was, however, sufficiently light, sweet, and free from dampness. The criminal is a young, stout, welllooking man, as far removed as possible fiom the idea one is ready to form of a murderer. He said he felt guilty and selfcondemned before God, and felt the need of a Saviour, and of a new heart, but knew not how to procure either of them. But he said this in a cold, unfeeling way. I shall see him again soon, for my own sake, as well as his. It is well calculated to make one admire and adore distinguishing grace, which has kept us from the same crimes, to see a man, in the flower of life, shut up in a small dungeon, never to go out till he goes to a violent and ignominious death. In the evening, I went to our meeting for those under concern. This is still kept up. though very few attend, and they seem little engaged. 156 MEMOIR OF FuRIDAY. "I have been trying the effect of sea-bathing. It was not a very favorable time, but I feel better for it, and shall repeat it daily. I have spent some time in going round among the people. They appear glad to see me; but, alas! I fear there are no hopes of any further reformation at present. Mlany, whom I left under deep concern, have lost all their impressions; others are cold; Christians seem to be discouraged. Though I expected this, it is almost too much for me to bear. I am dispirited and dejected; my very soul sickens and shrinks back from what is before me. Weakened by sickness, my mind seems to have lost, at once, all faith and fortitude. I have no assistance in writing. My ideas are all confused. I seem to have no power to get hold of people's consciences, but, as somebody expresses it,'my intellects have got mittens on'." "SUNDAY EVENING. "I preached to-day, and felt pretty much as I expected. No life-people stupid. I shall get hardened to these things soon; but at present they are distressing indeed. But though I am perplexed, I am not utterly in despair; though cast down, I am not destroyed. Somehow or other, I shall be carried through. As to my health, I have little leisure to think of it amidst the more interesting things which oppress me. I believe, however, I shall suffer but little inconvenience from speaking to-day." "PORTLAND, JULY 16, 1808. "MY DEAR SISTER:-I know not why it was, but I never felt more pain at leaving home, since I first began to venture abroad, than when I left Rindge for Portland. I rode in a very melancholy mood all day, and seldom have I felt more unpleasantly. This, you will say, was but an ungratefill return to my heavenly Father, for his goodness; but, though I felt sensible that it was, I could not alter the course of my feelings. My mind had become so tender by being accustomed to kindness and attention, that it seemed to shrink from every thing like coldness; and it was in vain to expect that kindness from others, which I experienced from parental and sisterly affection at home. The difficulties, too, of the ministry, were EDWARD PAYSON. 157 all before me. Like Peter, I looked only at the waves and billows, forgetting the almighty arm that was extended for my support; and, consequently, like him, I sunk in the depths of despondency. Nor is the prospect, now I am here, calculated to cheer me. Iniquities abound; the love of many is waxen cold; the enemy seems coming in as a flood; the Spirit of the Lord no longer lifts up a standard against him; and I, what can I do? What is worst of all, is, that many are ready to think, that, because I am returned, religion will revive. This sickens and discourages my very soul; for I know, assuredly, that, while this is the case, my labors will be utterly unsuccessful. This shows, too, that they have not learnt, by my sickness, what God meant they should learn, and will bring a blast upon me and my exertions. Still, however, blessed be God, he does not suffer me utterly to despair. That text,'Fear thou not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness'-never fails to bring relief even in the darkest hours. In addition to this, I find some relief in conversing with those who were taken into the church before I left them, most of whom seem to be humble, growing Christians; so that I have still abundant reason to be thankful; but, alas! I cannot. You, my sister, never will know what it is to attempt to go through the duties of the ministry without God. I stagger along under the burden, like those poor travellers, who were cast away in the deserts of Arabia, ready every step to sink under it; but when it seems as if I could not take another step, but must lie down and die, some spring opens to my view, and I get strength and courage to drag along a little farther. But enough of this melancholy strain. "My health continues to improve rapidly, and I am almost perfectly well. Mr. R. preaches here next Sabbath, on an exchange with Mr, K., who goes to administer the sacrament at Gorham. He ismuch liked; they are, I believe, unanimous, or nearly so, in his favor, and would settle him off hand, had they not written to a Mr. B. previous to Mr. R.'s coming. They think they are bound in honor to hear Mr. B., and Mr. R. feels a little delicate about staying, under these circt mstances. 158 MEMOIR OF "JULY 21. "I mlentiolned I believe, in my last letter, that there was a criminal here, under sentence of death for murder. He was executed to-day, and I have strong hopes he died a sincere penitent. But the circumstances are too long for a letter. "My health continues to improve with respect to the dificulties in my breast; but I am so oppressed with melancholy that life is a burthen. I was to have preached a sermon at the execution I have just mentioned; and though I did not feel able to write, I endeavored to force myself to it. But a melancholy mind will not be forced, and I found, that, if I did not desist, I should be distracted. On the other hand, the idea that such an opportunity of doing good should be lost, drove me back to fresh endeavors. The misery I have endured for three days is inconceivable, and has made me quite sick. It seemed as if I would willingly have been hanged in his place, rather than feel as I did. I can more easily believe that all other things work together for good, than that melancholy does. It appears to be full of evil, and to be productive of no manner of good either to myself or others. But it shall not cause you any more uneasiness at present, for I will bid you adieu, till I am il better humor. Remember me to all friends; ask my father and mother to write to and pray for me. 1 would give up preaching, if I dared; but'wo is me, if I preach not the gospel.' Farewell-and may you never know\v by experience, the present feelings of' Y7our affectionate, though unhappy brother." "PORTLAND, AUGUST 3, 1808. t MY DEAREST PARENTS: ] had almost resolved not to write again till I received letters from home, which I have been looking for with much impatience and some hard thoughts; blut, lest you should impute my silence to a wrong cause, I will put an end to it for the present, and tell you that I am gradually growing better, and am, in a manner, perfectly well. I preach in all weathers, and at all hours, without much, if any, inconvenience; and still gain strength notwithstanding; and the people say that I speak now as loud and strong as ever, though I did not when I first came back. I have also thrown off my EDWARD PAYSON. 159 melancholy fits, and am as cheerful as ever. The state of religion, however, is not such as I could wish. "I preached, last Sabbath, on man's depravity, and attempted to show, that, by nature, man is, in stupidity and insensibility, a block; in sensuality and sottishness, a beast; and in pride, malice, cruelty, and treachery, a devil. This set the whole town in an uproar, and never was such a racket made about any poor sermon; it is perfectly inconceivable to any who have not seen it. But I cannot help hoping, that amidst all this smoke, there may be some latent sparks, which will burst out into a blaze. We had a lecture, last evening, in the meetinghouse, which was much more crowded than any we ever had before. However, our fears are, as yet, much greater than our hopes. " Mr. K. is like to lose his youngest child, and his oldest is quite sick. He is also slandered and abused beyond all measure. Yet he bears all these trials in a manner which is surprising. He is less gay, but scarcely less cheerful, than usual; nor would any one suspect, from his appearance, that he was suffering in body, friends, or estate. The embargo causes us much uneasiness, though not more than was to be expected. But I tremble to think of next winter; for the poor will suffer incalculably, both for want of provisions and fuel." The sermon alluded to in this letter is probably one which he preached from John viii. 44, and which is still remembered with lively impression by some of the hearers, whose account of its effects amply sustains his own description. In the course of the following week, there might be heard one man hailing another as "brother devil!" This, coming to Mr. Payson's ears, so far from being regarded as a circumstance of discouragement, inspired him with the hope that good would ultimately result from it-a hope which the event justified; for some of these "brave spirits" were afterwards humbled at the foot of the cross. His description of the "natural man" is given in terms which he repeatedly applies to himself in his private journal; and their application to the species was made in the fulness of an honest heart. They show, too, that he was not indebted to flattery for any part of his popularity. Still, such a representation of the subject is of questionable propriety, and, from another preacher 160 MEMOIR OF might have been productive of none but evil consequences. And yet some young, rash, ignorant ministers will be more emulous to copy this, than any other trait in his preaching. After letting off a volley of harsh, impertinent, bitter, and extravagant epi. thets, with a heart as callous as that which they describe, they will flatter themselves that they have been signally faithful, and. are "just like Dr. Payson!" But they mistake his character, as well as their own. Hisseverest expressions were uttered with the moving tenderness of a heart that yearned over the guilt and impending misery of his fellow-men. The wounds he inflicted were "the wounds of a friend." Those on whom his strokes fell with deadliest effect, could not but feel that benevolence aimed the blow. " AUGUST 10. "I have just received your letter, my dear mother, and will now put an end. to mine, which a press of duty has made me lay by. Mr. K.'s'child is dead, and that has thrown a great deal of business upon my hands. He is going a journey soon, and I must finish visiting the people before he goes, as I shall have no time afterwards. Your letter afforded me some comfort at a time when I needed it. We have lost all hopes of any more attention at present, and I am in some measure reconciled to it: for if a revival should take place immediately after my return, people would not give God the glory. The opposition grows more and more bitter; every mouth seems to be open to revile, and Christians, instead of supporting me, seem to think that it will not do to tell the whole truth, lest the world should be too much offended. I was prone to trust to Christians, and think that, though all should be offended, yet they would not; but I find it will not do to put trust in man, however good he may be. Even Christians had much rather hear of their privileges, their good estate, and the happiness prepared for them, than be told plainly how defective they are, and urged to greater diligence, zeal, and fidelity. I think, sometimes, that all the service I shall do the church will be to change them from legal to evangelical hypocrites; for they have now got their cue, and, instead of saying that they do all they can, and hope Christ will do the rest, they are all complaining, like Mrs.''@-^-^*, what dreadful vile creatures they are, and smile all the time. "HIowever, there are some that make these complaints in a EDWARD PAYSON. 161 diflerent manner, and who appear really to groan under a body of sin and death. One person, who was esteemed by Mr. K. and the whole church, and myself too, not only a Christian, but a very eminent one, of whose religion I had not the least doubt, and who appeared to be very humble and broken-hearted, and, in short, to be every thing we could wish, has discovered that she was building on the sand. She had been a professor some time, but had never heard of or suspected the difference between holy and selfish love, and is now fully convinced that all her love was of the latter kind. As she possesses good sense and information, the accounts she gives of her experiences, while destitute of religion, are very profitable, and open new ways in which persons may be deceived, of which I had scarcely any conception. "I did not intend to say a word of myself, but I cannot write or think on any thing else. I am crushed down, not only into the dust, but below the dust, so that it seems, at times, as if I must perish. I am obliged to go into the pulpit, to pray and preach, with my mind full of horrid thoughts, so that I totally forget what I am going to say, and am forced to stop short. From this one sample, of which, however, you cannot know the bitterness, unless you had been forced to preach in that situation, you may judge of the rest. Yet I know it is all for the best. It teaches me, I hope, to give the glory more to God, when I feel better. Now it seems as strange, if a good thought or desire rises for a moment in my mind, as it would be to find a diamond on a dunghill, or to see a gleam of sunshine in a dark night. I know it cannot be the product of my heart, but must come from some other source; and to that source I wish to refer it. "PORTLAND, SEPTEMBER 8, 1808. "MY DEAREST PARENTS: Last Sabbath, I preached all day, administered the sacrament, catechised the children, and spent the evening in conversation; and yet, instead of being laid up, as I feared, I am full as well, if not better than before. Things s ill remain pretty much the same as they were. A great many seem to be somewhat alarmed, but I see none of those deep convictions of sin which I used to see; it is only the mere workings of natural fear. Two persons, however, who had entirely VOL. I. 21 1&6~2 MEMIOIR OF lost their convictions, have had them return more strongly than ever; so that we are not entirely deserted. People seem to be a little better reconciled to the truth, and several, who threatened to leave the parish, still remain quiet; but whether their quietness proceeds from mere stupidity, or from a conviction of the truth, I Inow not. The church seem to feel the general deadness; and, as to myself, I seem palsied to all good, though pride, or selfishness, or habit, still keeps me in motion. I have had far more distressing experience of the dreadful depravity of my nature, since I left home, than ever before. O the heights and depths, the lengths and breadths, of wickedness, in the depraved heart! If complaining to man was of service, what a torrent of complaint could I pour out! But it will not avail. SEPT. 14. " Mr. C., a young gentleman of independent fortune, is now preaching in the old parish. He has been studying divinity in Scotland, and preaches the doctrines of the gospel in a clear, distinguishing manner. As his sentiments were known before he came, everything was said, to take off the effect of his preaching, which could be said. They cannot, however, accuse him of interested motives in preaching; and, as he is quite a gentleman in his manners, I hope he will lessen the prejudices of some of his fashionable hearers against the gospel. " We have had three additions to the church, since my return, of persons who gave very satisfactory evidence; and there are a few other gleanings of our late harvest, that are not yet gathered in; but, otherwise, we are in a most stupid state. If I now and then feel a spark of life, the moment I go abroad among my people, it goes out, and I always come home quite discouraged. I cannot feel thankful as I ought for health restored. OCT. 10. " Mr. K. comes back this week, and my hard duty is over without any ill consequences. I have had some relief, of late, from Mr. C.'s being here, at the old parish, and preaching such doctrine as I do." In the following letter to his mother is a most vivid sketch of EDWARD PAYSON. 163 the workings of his mind in his hours of discouragement, as well as of those considerations by which he was assisted to rise above it. It will be read with thrilling interest:PORTLAND; OCT. 25, 1)08.. C' MY DEAREST MOTHER, — have just received your letter of the 19th, and like all your letters, it came just in the right time, when I needed it most —when I was sinking, fainting under discouragemnents and difficulties. I feel the force of all you say. I know I have every reason in the world to feel grateful; but this knowedge only renders me more unhappy, that I cannot feel it. Gratitude is a plant that my heart will never produce, only when heaven is pleased to place it there; and whether I shall ever exercise one emotion of it again, seems doubtful.' God is showing me what is in my heart in a ten-fold clearer light than ever before; and though I know he does it to humble and prove me, that he may'do me good in the latter end; yet, while he permits, my mind will be like the troubled sea, which cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt; and I can. no more still it than I can still the elements. I know how I ought to feel, and I know how wrong it is to feel as I do; but that does not help me to feel otherwise. I know that I am every thing that is bad summed up in one, and that I deserve, ten thousand times over, the hottest place in hell; but till God shall be pleased to melt my heart by the returning beams of his love, this sight of sin only hardens my heart, and sinks it down in sullen indolence and despair. I well remember those delightful seasons you mention; but I remember them as Satan does the happiness of heaven, which he has lost. I cannot help being sorry that I ever recovered, *' "*' Y thoughI see, as clear as the light of day, how devilish and cowardly, and base, and ungratefu:l, such a temper is. I loathe and detest myself for having such a temper, and know that my inability to restrain it, instead of being any excuse, only renders me utterly inexcusable. I know, too, that all this is necessary for my good. I know Christ is near me, though I cannot perceive him; and that, in his own time, which will be the best time, he will pluck me out of this terrible deep pit, and set my feet on a rock. But this knowledge does not prevent my being tossed hither and thither, before the blast of temptation, like a leaf before a whirl 164 MEMOIR OF wind. Meanwhile, I have nowhere to look for comfort, either in heaven or earth. My prayer seems to be shut out, though in reality I know it is not. My people are raving about my hard doctrine; my friends seem to stand aloof, my health begins to decline, religion decaying, and all hell broke loose within me. While this is the case, what can reasoning or arguments avail Who but he who caused light to shine out of darkness, can bring light and order out of the darkness and chaos of my soul " Your hopes with respect to Mr. C. are frustrated. Notwithstanding he combined almost every advantage, such as being independent in property, eloquent, polished in his manners, &c. &c., he had only thirty for to ninety against him. Mr. R. has a unanimous call at Gorham; but he feels afraid to settle, because he is not qualified. I tell him to settle by all means; for, if he waits a little longer, he never will feel qualified to settle at all. If I had waited till this time, I surely should never have been a minister. I should give up now, but, whenever Ithink of it, something seems to say,'What are you going to give up for Suppose you are a poor, miserable, blind, weak, stupid worm of the dust, with mountains of opposition before you,-is that any reason for discouragement? Have you yet to learn, that God has chosen the weak things of the world to confound the mighty, and that, if you had the talents of an angel, you could do nothing without his assistance?. Has he not already helped you beyond all you dared ask or think; and has not he promised to help you in future? What then would you, poor, weak, stupid, cowardly fool, have tmore?-what do you keep murmuring about all the time? Why don't you glory in your infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon you?' To all this I can answer nothing, and so I keep dragging on, because I dare not leave off without a discharge. "We have still a few inquirers, and one or two have joined the church every communion, which is once a month. The church continue to attend private meetings diligently. We know of four old professors, who have been building on sand, but now, I hope, are on Christ; but we have still a wretched set. One was yesterday found to be intemperate, who has been a professor several years. " I am not quite so well as I vre been, but am as well as EDWARD PAYSON. 165 when I left home, and might have been better, if I could learn any prudence." His filial love suffered no abatement in consequence of his growing years and increasedcares. How eager he was to relieve a father's burdened spirit, will be seen in the following letter of condolence:PORTLAND, Nov. 13 1808. " MY DEAREST FATHER,-Yours of the 1st inst. I received yesterday, and its contents gave me no little uneasiness. I am grieved that such depravity should be displayed by one so young,* and that such an addition should be made to your cares and sorrows. How I long, how I should rejoice, to say something. that would comfort you, my dear father; something that would tend to lighten the burden of life which you mention! but alas! I am a miserable comforter, and cannot even comfort myself. I have been preaching, to-day, on Isaiah XL. 1, Comfort ye, &c.: on account of some who are afflicted with various troubles; and in trying to comfort them, I obtained the first drop of consolation, which I have tasted for many days; and I would gladly share it with you, or rather give you all, if in my power. But I dare not presume to point out to you the springs of consolation which the gospel affords, and at which you have often drank and been refreshed. But if I were writing to another, I would ask, What burden can be heavy, to one who has Omnipotence for his support? Is there not balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Is there any anguish which this balm cannot alleviate? any wound which this physician cannot heal? I would ask, Can he need comfort, who knows that he belongs to the friends and people of God? that his sins are forgiven, and his name written in the Lamb's book of life? Is it not strong consolation, consolation sufficient to support the soul under the severest trials, to know that you are washed, justified, and sanctified, by the blood of the Lord Jesus, and the Spirit of your God? that there is laid up for you, in heaven, a crown of glory, an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and which fadeth not away? and that neither death, nor life, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, shall ever be HIe refers to a young female domestic who set fire to his fither's house. 166 MEMOIR OF able to separate you from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus your Lord? Is it not comfort sufficient to satisfy even tihe boundless desires of an immortal mind, to know that you are a temple of the Holy Ghost, a member of Christ, and a child of God? that the blessed angels are your guards and attendants? that the Holy Spirit is your Assistant and Sanctifier? the Son of God your Friend, your Shepherd, your Intercessor, and Head? and God himself your Father, your God, and your exceeding great reward? Is it not enough to know, that your salvation standeth sure, and that heaven is as certainly yours, as if you already stood on Mount Zion, singing the praises of redeeming love? Is it not enough to know that all things shall work together for your good, through time and eternity? and that he who spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, will with him also freely give us all things? In some such manner as this I would write to an equal, to one whose progress in religion was small, whose trials were light, and whose views of divine things were partial and confined, like my own. But to you, mv dear father, I dare not write thus, for you know these things already; and you have doubtless spiritual trials, of which I can as yet form no conception, and under which, consequently, I know not how even to try to comfort you. But is it not some satisfaction to reflect, that to you and my mother I shall be indebted, under God, for everlasting felicity; and that, if I am made the instrument of doing any good in the world, it will be owing to your prayers, precepts, and example? My dear father, how many have all your trials, and none of your comforts-no God to go to, no religion to support them, no hope of heaven, no divine consolations, to soothe their sorrows in this valley of tears! Do, then, let us persuade you to be happy; for you have been the means of great good and happiness to us.' I dare not read over what I have written, and I am almost afraid to send it; for I write in a hurry, and much exhausted both in body and mind, by the labors of the day; but I write with a most ardent desire to give you a moment's pleasure; and though I fear I shall not succeed, yet I hope the intention will be accepted. I am unfit to write, for it is very late, and I am very sleepy, very much tired, and my head aches; but if I did not write now, I m.ust wait some time, and I know not howv to wait a single day, without expressing my sorrow for your new troubles, though unable to remove them. EDWARD PAYSON. 167 " My health remains nearly the same as when I wrote last. I am not better, and I know not that I am worse. I shall not fail'to let you know the worst, as I promised to do. You need, therefore, be under no apprehensions that I am worse than I represent. The state of religion continues much the same, only the line seems to be drawing between the friends and the enemies of Christ. The word is to some a savor of life unto life; but to many, a savor of death unto death. Many among us seem to be literally mad upon their idols; but the church seem to be growing in grace. There is a society among them, who have two prayer meetings weekly, besides a monthly fast. The young converts, as yet, promise fair." Mr. Payson's pastoral labors, during the first year, though much interrupted by sickness, were nevertheless successful, and, by the blessing of God, issued in an accession of twenty-nine members to the church. His sermon, at the first anniversary of his ordination, was founded on 2 Cor. ii. 15, 16, in which he illustrated, in a very lucid and solemn manner, the propositions, that, " to those who are saved, the preaching of the gospel is a savor of life unto life;" that, " to those who perish, it is a savor of death unto death;" and that' the labors of those who preach it, are in both cases acceptable to God." In the application of his discourse, after recognising, with much feeling, his ordination vows, and the changes by death and otherwise, which had occurred in the society, he acknowledges that their conduct to him " has been such as not only to afford no cause of complaint, but to merit and excite his warmest gratitude, and most earnest prayers and endeavors to promote their temporal and spiritual welfare. The patience, with which you have borne with the infirmities occasioned by a long and debilitating illness; the diligence and attention with which you have listened to the ministrations of the word, both in season and out of season; and the many proofs of kindness and regard, equally unexpected and undeserved, which you have displayed, -are too deeply impressed on the heart and memory of the speaker ever to be forgotten, and will render it no less his pleasure and delight, than it is his duty, wholly to spend and be spent in your service. But merely to hear the messages of God attentively, and to treat with kindness those who bring them, is not 168 MEMOIR OF sufficient; for not the hearers, but the doers of the word shall be justified. "Permit me, therefore, to ask, whether you, my friends, have done more than this? According to the measure of ability given me, I have endeavored plainly to declare unto you the whole counsel of God; and though, through an anxious desire to strip off all disguise from the truth, and prevent, so far as possible, all error and mistake, the speaker may have expressed himself unguardedly, and only irritated where he meant to convince, yet still it is the truth which he has proclaimed. And we would ask you, most seriously and affectionately, whether it has been to your souls a savor of life unto life, or of death unto death? "Light as it may appear to us, it is, my friends, a dreadful thing to trifle with the law and gospel of Jehovah. Nor can a greater curse befall a people, than to hear his word, if they neglect to perform it. A flood of waters, or a deluge of lire, is comparatively a blessing. There are, doubtless, many such triflers here, who fully resolve, at some future time, to repent and believe the gospel. But on what are your hopes founded? Salvation is now more distant from you than ever. For years you have been hardening in sin. Every sermon you have heard has insensibly rendered you worse. You have already heard every motive, argument and consideration, which the Scriptures afford, and heard them in vain. The whole storehouse of spiritual medicines has been thrown open for your relief; but your moral diseases, instead of being healed, have become more inveterate. We can only present to you again the same remedies, which have already proved unsuccessful; for the art of man and the word of God afford no other. Humanly speaking, then, it is evident you must perish. But though your recovery is thus impossible with man, it is not with God. Blessed be his name! there is yet balm in Gilead, and a Physician there, who can heal when mortal physicians fail. But, alas! you will not apply to him. You will not believe you are sick; you will not be persuaded to seek eternal life. You still go on to neglect the gospel; and perhaps this very warning will prove to some of you a savor of death unto death. My friends, how trying is the situation of the ministers of Christ, if they have any love for EDWARD PAYSON. 169 their people, or regard for their souls. They are like a man placed on the brink of a precipice, to warn travellers, that, if they proceed, they will inevitably be dashed in pieces. The travellers arrive, listen to the warning, and then, with a few exceptions, hold on their course, and perish before the eyes of him who labored in vain to save them. " Such, but infinitely more distressing, is our situation. We stand at the entrance of the way of life, to warn our people, that they are in the broad road to destruction, and to urge and entreat them to turn aside and be happy. Many of them hear our entreaties with some degree of attention and regard, They engage our affections by kind offices; we labor withl them, tell them they are deeply rooted in our hearts and affections; and then, in defiance of all our prayers and tears, they hurry away, and perish before our eyes, in a manner too dreadful to be conceived. If this be not agony, disappointment, and distress, what is? The agonies of a patriot, trembling for his country-of a wife, watching an expiring husband- or of a nmother, trembling for a diseased child -are nothing to those which he must feel, who knows the worth of an immortal soul, who considers what it is to be lost, and yet sees his people perishing before him. " O, my friends, my dear friends! how do our spirits droop, and our hearts sicken with anguish and despair, when we consider, that, notwithstanding all we can do, many here present will finally find the gospel a savor of death unto death! and all our exertions will answer no other purpose than to increase, beyond conception, their misery and guilt! 0, ye precious, immortal souls! ye spirits, that will never die! ye heirs of eternity, hear!-and obey, ere it is too late, the joyful sound of the gospel. 0, if there be any avenue to conviction, tell us where it lies. Tell, 0 tell us, how we may draw, or drive, or lead you to Christ. Tell us how we may bribe you not to be miserable forever. Almost are we ready to say with the apostle-we could even wish ourselves accursed from Christ for our people, our friends according to the flesh." VOL. I. 22 CHAPTER X. His dependence on God; its influence on himself and church. His uniform purpose to know nothing save Jesus Christ and Him crucified. Illustration. Letters. Resolutions. Increased success. THE preparation of his first anniversary sermon, from which some extracts have been taken, was attended by long continued and intense private devotion; and in preaching it, he "had much assistance, and many were in tears. " He looked forward through the year to come with the same prayerful solemnity, which distinguished his retrospect of the past. In view of his amazing responsibilities, he went for aid "to the throne of grace; and, " he exclaims-"O, the unspeakable goodness and condescension of God!-did not go in vain." His complaints still hung, like a clog, to him, so that his body could but partially serve the ever-active spirit by which it was animated. This calamity was at no time more trying than when it prevented him from preaching his usual Thursday evening lecture. On one such evening he makes this record:" DEc. 30. Had a sweet season in prayer this morning; and felt fervent love to my Saviour, and desires that he might be glorified. Was much assisted in writing upon a subject, which led me to insist upon the constraining power of Christ's love; and, blessed be God, I was enabled in some measure to feel my subject. Was prevented from preaching by the weather, and the state of my health; which was a great disappointment. " It was Mr. Payson's uniform, if not invariable practice, to EDWARD PAYSON. 171 use a written sermon on one part of every Sabbath; and yet it is worthy of particular observation, how much he sought and valued divine assistance in preaching. His dependence on the Spirit's aid was, apparently, as real and exclusive as if he had made no previous preparation. He was greatly distressed, when engaged in pronouncing a discourse, unaccompanied with a consciousness of such assistance; and proportionately grateful when favored with it. A single extract will exhibit his feelings on this subject:— SABBATH. Preached without the least apparent assistance. Was so distressed, that I left the sermon unfinished, and felt as if the people would leave the house. Went home feeling ashamed to look any body in the face. Was ready to give up in despair;.... and had scarcely any hope that I should ever again behold the light of God's countenance. Yet such is the inconceivable goodness of God to his perverse and froward children, that he was pleased, even then, to melt my stubborn heart with the displays of his love. Felt so overwhelmed with a sense of his goodness and my own ingratitude, that I could not look up, or hardly venture to throw myself at his feet. My heart was broken within me, to think that I should still ungratefully requite such infinite goodness.' If this reliance on God for help in preaching was not peculiar to him, but common-as it probably is in a degree-to every evangelical minister, the knowledge of the fact may, perhaps, weaken, if it does not remove the prejudice, which exists in many minds against any use of "notes" by a preacher. His diary, during this winter, bears the marks of a rapidly advancing maturity in the Christian life. Who would not emulate the state of mind which is thus described!"Was favored with clear views of the matchless goodness of Christ, and my own vileness. Was so overwhelmed and astonished, that he should again look upon me with favor, that I could scarce believe it possible. Seemed to be drawn away from self; and to feel more desire that God should be glorified than that I should be happy. This is the only heaven I aspire to: and to have such a temper appeared more desirable than 172 M E MOI OF ten thousand worlds. Felt sweetly broken-hearted and grieved to think how I had sinned against such a Saviour, and thought I should be willing to undergo any sufferings, if I might never offend him again. Longed to see him glorified by others; for I almost despaired of ever glorifying him myself. " And who, that reads the following, and is informed that similar records continue to occur at short intervals, will any longer wonder that success crowned his labors? The first extract shows, that the duties which he urged on others were first practised by himself:"JAN. 2, 1809. Rose very early and enjoyed a sweet season in secret prayer. Spent the day in visiting. In the evening, felt the worth of souls lie with peculiar weight upon my mind, and was enabled to wrestle fervently for divine influence. "JAN. 3. Was favored this morning with such a view of the worth of souls, that I could not rest at home, but went out to visit my people, and stir up the members of the church to pray for divine influences. Never felt such love for the people of God, as this day. Seemed willing to wash their feet, or perform the lowest offices, because they belonged to Christ. Longed, all day, to do something for the glory of God and the conversion of sinners. Wished for health, that I might employ my time for God." A heart so intent upon seeking the salvation of men, might well be supposed to dictate language like the following, when the tenement in which it was lodged was too feeble to be removed from its resting-place:"JAN. 7. During the past week, the word of the Lord has been like a fire shut up in my bones. I long to preach, but cannot. O that I may be patient and resigned." The minister who furnishes appropriate employment for the members of his church, performs one of the most useful services connected with human agency, and is the least likely to labor in vain, and spend his strength for nought. A conviction of personal responsibility for the prosperity of religion, deeply fixed EDWARD PAYSON. 173 in the heart of every private Christian- a responsibility which all are but too ready to throw off upon their minister -will, if any thing can, render them circumspect, "instant in prayer," and, "always abounding in the work of the Lord. " It is one of the best preparations for hearing the word with profit: for with it they will listen, not to cavil, not to be amused, but for edification, and that they may learn " what the Lord would have them do." The pastor, who is sustained by the daily fervent prayers of his flock, and by their frequent united prayers, has a ground for encouragement and hope, that will not fail him. The Spirit will not leave that people unvisited, who so appreciate his influences, as to seek them daily with ardor of desire, and to whom their descent would be as welcome, and as refreshing, " as cold waters to a thirsty soul." It was, therefore, a well-advised step in Mr. Payson, to engage the prayers of the church for a blessing on the word dispensed by him, and for a general revival of religion. The great importance of the duty justified his special exertions to secure its performance, and both he and they had much reason to rejoice in the issue. "PORTLAND, JAN. 10, 1809. "MY DEAREST MOTHER:-I have been for some time, endeavoring to establish among us what are called "Aaron and Hur societies, " i. e. little collections of four, five, or more persons, to meet before service on Sabbath morning, and spend an hour in praying for a blessing on the minister and ordinances. They began new year's day, and we seemed to have an immediate answer; for the meeting was unusually solemn, and we have reason to hope the word was not preached in vain. Our hopes of another revival are increasing, as there seems to be an unusual spirit of prayer, and several persons have lately been awakened. However, God's ways are not as our ways, and we may be disappointed. Indeed, it seems impossible to me, that there should be any attention, so long as I am here. I am harassed with such violent temptations, from morning till night, and from night till morning, with scarce a moment's intermission, that I am utterly weary of life, and ready to despair. It seems as if I must one day perish by the hands of this accursed Saul, which seeks to destroy me. When I have a moment's ease, the word of the Lord is like a fire shut up in my bones, and it seems as 174 BIMEMOIR OF if I must preach, if I die for it, even to stocks and stones, if men will not hear; and yet I can only preach once on the Sabbath, and am obliged to refrain all the week. This sets melancholy at work, and gives the adversary great advantage over me. Yet I appear to know it is all right and necessary; but this knowledge does not comfort and strengthen me as it ought. Truly the righteous scarcely are saved; and we must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God. Still, however, externally, my cup runs over with blessings. My people are so kind, it makes me utterly ashamed, and Mr. K. is like a father to me in every thing. But, instead of feeling grateful, and. being able to glorify God for hisgoodness, I am so overwhelmed with temptations, that I can do nothing but sit still and tremble, lest they hurry me into some open sin, which will bring dishonor on the cross. 0, my dearest mother, do pity me, and pray for me; for I am sifted like wheat." The customs of society often render a minister's presence unavoidable on public occasions or celebrations of a nature not easily defined, but which are of a mixed character, partly secular, and partly religious. But MIr. Payson would never degrade his official character. Wherever he was present, there the ambassador of Christ "stood confest." He never would consent to be the mere amusing companion, or entertaining speaker. Those whom he addressed, whatever the occasion, were reminded that they were probationers for eternity. Very pleasing evidence of this has been found in some copious remnants of a performance, which, in Mlarch of this year, he addressed to a Musical Society. W Who would look for a proof of the existence and perfections of God on such an occasion? for a history of the apostacy of angels-of the fall and recovery of man-and of the ultimate destination and employment of redeemed sinners? Yet all this, "in strains as sweet as angels use," was wrought into an address on music. Were it his object to pronounce an encomium on Music, he might, he observes in the introduction, from the ample materials furnished by orators, poets, historians, and philosophers, of past ages, " easily compose a rich and unfading wreath of applause, with which to encircle and adorn her brows." But, "Without resorting to the hyperbolical expressions of poetry, EDW ARD PDYS ON. 175 or to the dreams and fables of pagan mythology, to the wonders said to be performed by the lyre of Amphion, and the harp of Orpheus,-I might place before you the prophet of Jehovah, composing his ruffled spirits by the soothing influence of music, that he might be suitably prepared to receive a message from the Lord of -Hosts I might present to your view the evil spirit, by which jealous and melancholy Saul was afflicted, flying, baffled and defeated, from the animating and harmonious tones of David's harp. I might show you the same David, the defender and avenger of his flock, the champion and bulwark of his country, the conqueror of Goliath, the greatest warrior and monarch of his age, laying down the sword and the sceptre to take up his harp, and exchanging the titles of victor and king for the more honorable title of the sweet Psalmist of Israel........ But I appear not before you as her advocate; for in that character my exertions would be superfluous. She is present to speak for herself, and assert her own claims to our notice and approbation. You have heard her voice in the performances of this evening; and those of you, whom the God of nature has favored with a capacity of feeling and understanding her eloquent language, will, I trust, acknoweledge that she has pleaded her own cause with triumphant success: has given sensible demonstration, that she can speak, not only to the ear, but to the heart; and that she possesses irresistible power to soothe, delight, and fascinate the soul. Nor was it to the senses alone that she spake; but while, in harmonious sounds she maintained her claims, and asserted her powers; in a still and small, but convincing voice, she addressed herself directly to reason and conscience, proclaiming the most solemn and important truths; truths which perhaps some of you did not hear or regard, but which deserve and demand our most serious attention..... With the same irresistible evidence as if an angel had spoken from heaven, she said, There is a God, and that God is good and benevolent. For, my friends, who but God could have tuned the human voice, and given harmony to sounds? Who, but a good and benevolent God, would have given us senses capable of perceiving and enjoying this harmony? Who, but such a being, would have opened a way through the ear, for its passage to the soul? Could blind chance have produced these wonders of wisdom? or a malignant being, 1 l 6 MEMOIR OF these miracles of goodness? Could they have caused this admirable fitness between harmony of sounds, and the organs of sense by which it is perceived? No. They would have either given us no senses, or left them imperfect, or rendered every sound discordant and harsh. With the utmost propriety, therefore, may Jehovah ask, Who hath made man's mouth, and planted the ear? Have not I, the Lord? With the utmost justice, also, may he demand of us, that all our musical powers and faculties should be consecrated to his service, and employed in celebrating his praises. To urge you diligently and cheerfully to perform this pleasing, reasonable, and indispensable duty, is the principal object of the speaker. Not, then, as the advocate of music, but as the ambassador of that God, whose being and benevolence music proclaims, do I now address this assembly, entreating every individual, without delay, to adopt and practise the resolution of the royal Psalmist-'I will sing unto the Lord as long as I live; I will sing praise to my God while I have my being'." Ps. civ. 33. He then carries his hearers back to the origin of the world, when "every thing was very good," and "all creation harmonized together. All its parts, animate and inanimate, like the voices and instruments of a well regulated concert, helped to compose a perfect and beautiful whole; and so exquisite was the harmony thus produced, that in the whole compass of creation, not one jarring or discordant note was heard, even by the perfect ear of God himself...... The blessed angels of light began the universal chorus,'when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy."' He describes "the music of the spheres " the part which the heavenly bodies performed in the concert-and descends, through the animate creation, down to the meanest thing that hath life:"E'en the dumb fish, that swam the flood, Leaped up, and meant the praise of God." "Of this universal concert, man was appointed the terrestrial leader, and was furnished with natural and moral powers, admirably fitted for this blessed and glorious employment. His body, exempt from dissolution, disease, and decay, was like a EDWARD PAYSON. 77 perfect and well-strung instrument, which never gave forth a false or uncertain sound, but always answered, with exact precision, the wishes of his nobler part, the soul. His heart did not then belie his tongue, when he sung the praises of his Crea. tor; but all the emotions felt by the one were expressed by the other, from the high notes of ecstatic admiration, thankfulness, and joy, down to the deep tones of the most profound veneration and humility. In a word, his heart was the throne of celestial love and harmony, and his tongue at once the organ of their will, and the sceptre of their power.' "We are told, in ancient story, of a statue, formed with such wonderful art, that whenever it was visited by the rays of the rising sun, it gave forth, in honor of that luminary, the most melodious and ravishing sounds. In like manner, man was originally so constituted by skill divine, that, whenever he contemplated the rays of wisdom, power, and goodness, emanating from the great Sun of the moral system, the ardent emotions of his soul spontaneously burst forth in the most pure and exalted strains of adoration and praise. Such was the world, such was man, at the creation. Even in the eye of the Creator, all was good; for, wherever he turned, he saw only his own image, and heard nothing but his own praises. Love beamed from every countenance; harmony reigned in every breast, and flowed mellifluous from every tongue; and the grand chorus of praise, begun by raptured seraphs round the throne, and heard from heaven to earth, was re-echoed back from earth to heaven; and this blissful sound, loud as the archangel's trump, and sweet as the melody of his golden harp, rapidly spread, and was received from world to world, and floated, in gently-undulating waves, even to the farthest bounds of creation." To this primeval harmony, he exhibits the lamentable contrast which followed, when sin "Luntuned the tongues of angels, and changed their blissful songs of praise into the groans of wretchedness, the execrations of malignity, the blasphemies of impiety, and the ravings of despair. Storms and tempests, earthquakes and convulsions, fire from above, and deluges from beneath, which destroyed the order of the natural world, proved that its baleful influence had reached our earth, and afforded a faint emblem of the jars and disorders which sin had introduced into the moral system. Man's corporeal part, that lyre VOL. I. 23 178 M E MOI 0IR OF of a thousand strings, tuned by the finger of God himself, destined to last as long as the soul, and to be her instrument in offering up eternal praise, was, at one blow, shattered, unstrung, and almost irreparably ruined. His soul, all whose powers and faculties, like the chords of an lEolian harp, once harmoniously vibrated to every breath of the divine Spirit, and ever returned a sympathizing sound to the tones of kindness and love from a fellow-being, now became silent, and insensible to melody, or produced only the jarring and discordant notes of envy, malice, hatred, and revenge. The mouth, filled with cursing and bitterness, was set against the heavens; the tongue was inflamed with the fire of hell. Every voice, instead of uniting in the song of' Glory to God in the highest,' was now at variance with the voices around it, and, in barbarous and dissonant strains, sung praise to itself, or was employed in muttering sullen murmurs against the Most High-in venting slanders against fellow-creatures-in celebrating and deifying some worthless idol, or in singing the triumphs of intemperance, dissipation, and excess. The noise of violence and cruelty was heard mingled with the boasting of the oppressor, and the cry of the oppressed, and the complaints of the wretched; while the shouts of embattled hosts, the crash of arms, the brazen clangor of trumpets, the shrieks of the wounded., the groans of the dying, and all the horrid din of war, together with the wailings of those whom it had'rendered widows and orphans, overwhelmed and drowned every sound of benevolence, praise, and love. Such is the jargon which sin has introduced-such the discord which, from every quarter of our globe, has long ascended up into the ears of the Lord of hosts." He next adverts to the mission of Jesus Christ, followed by the descent of the Holy Spirit, to restore harmony, when "those benevolent beings, who celebrated the birth-day of creation, joined with tenfold transports in singing glory to God in the highest, that there was again on earth peace and good will to men, and that the vacancy which sin had occasioned among the choirs and armies of heaven would soon be filled by individuals selected fiom the human race, and taught to sing the song of the Lamb, by the influences of the Spirit of harmony himself. To teach mankind this sacred song, and thus prepare EDW A R D PAYSON. 179 traem to fill the places and perform the offices of those angels who kept not their first estate, is the great object of God in the preservation of the world, in its various revolutions, and in all the dispensations of his providence and grace; while to learn it comprises our duty here, as to sing it will constitute our employment and happiness hereafter. This song, however, which St. John heard sung upon Mount Zion by the one hundred and forty and four thousand, can be taught by none but the Spirit of God." —He then urges the importance of piety in singers, especially such as lead in this part of worship, and enforces the duty of parents to cultivate musical talents in their children. "Were this duty duly performed, from proper motives, we should soon see a sight which was perhaps never seen on earth; a whole assembly employed in singing praise to God. But, as this pleasing sight is probably reserved for the celestial world, let the leaders in this delightful part of religious worship remember, that if holiness becomes God's house forever-if it is required that those who bear the vessels of the Lord should be holy-much more is it required of those who are the mouth of his people in singing his praise." In a solemn application, he carries his hearers forward to the time when' every tongue in the assembly will be employed in praising or blaspheming, every individual be an angel or a denon." There is a luxuriance in his style, at the time of writing this address, which was considerably chastened in latter years. Taken as a whole, the performance, while it was in perfect unison with the occasion, was admirably adapted to promote the great object which was always uppermost in his mind, and may serve as a specimen of his talent for making every occasion speak with force to the consciences of men. Bodily infirmity continued still to cramp and repress his energies, and he had already " been assured by his physician, that his complaints were mortal." " APRIL 26. Was excessively weak, so that I could do nothing to any purpose. Longed to lay my feeble body in the grave, where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary arc at rest; not that I was weary of God's service, if I could serve him with more strength and sincerity; but my mind sunk under the weakness of my body." ISO iMEMOIR OF "PORTLAND, MAY 11, 1809. " The Spirit seems still to accompany the word among us, and the attention to religion is rather increasing. Several new instances of conviction have occurred lately, which now bid fair to be abiding.' - x " " We have, this year, twenty tithingmen, instead of ten last year, and none the year before; and are in a fair way to have the town reformed, at least externally. Several of the most conspicuous leaders in the race of pleasure and fashion have lately become more serious, and we are hoping their example will be followed by others. The grand jury, also, begin to perform their duty, in presenting parishes that have no preaching, and shutting up tippling shops and bad houses. We are, therefore, encouraged to hope that God, by thus removing some of our external spots and pollutions, is preparing the way foi an inward, real reformation. There seems, also, to be a hearing ear, and our meetings on the Sabbath are unusually crowded, and the church seems to be unusually humbled under a sense of their deficiencies. The state of my health still continues a clog upon me; but it is a great mercy, and I cannot find it in my heart to pray for its removal." Before this time, he had felt his hands strengthened by the settlement of a highly valued brother over a church in a neighboring town; but new trials awaited him, which put the integrity of his principles to the severest test. With reference to an overture, which he could not meet without sacrificing, in his own view, his Master's honor, he observes, it was made,' hoping, no doubt, either to stop my mouth, as IEneas did that of old Cerberus, with this honey-cake, or at least, to discover from my answer how I meant to conduct." He was remarkably circumspect in his official conduct, quick to discern the purport and bearings of every act on the interests of the church, and avoided every step by which those interests would be compromitted. In the summer of this year, a minister was ordained over the first church in Portland. His conduct, in relation to that transaction, has been the frequent topic of very severe animadversion, and is not, even now, " lost in silence, and forgot." Justice to his memory, therefore, requires that the grounds upon which EDWARD PAYSON. 181 he proceeded should be known. The first reference to the affair is contained in a letter, which bears date not many days before the ordination, and is in these words:-" One of the deacons came to me, representing it as the wish, not only of Mr. -, but of the church; that there might be harmony between the churches, and that I would give him the right hand. I told him that I was much obliged to Mr. ~, and to the church; that I wished for harmony as much as they possibly could; but that it belonged to the Council to assign the parts, and that no one could pledge himself to perform any part, at an ordination, till he was acquainted with the candidate, and knew what were the sentiments he intended to inculcate." After stating the deacon's reply, expressing his confidence in the sentiments and character of the man, the latter proceeds; "I told him, we could better form an opinion of the candidate when he came before the Council; and that I hoped we should find nothing in his conduct or belief, which would occasion any difficulty; and so we parted. Ilow it will end, it is impossible to say." This is not the language of a prejudiced mind, condemning a man unheard, and " taking up a report against his neighbor;" but of one who had learned the apostolic lesson, "judge nothing before the time." No other course would have been equally proper and scriptural. His principles of conduct, in this case will bear the strictest scrutiny. Later still, he thus adverts to the subject: — " The ordination is just at hand, and engrosses universal attention in town. -The candidate is a fine scholar, has an amiable disposition....... and has treated me in that frank, open, friendly manner, which is just calculated to win me over to his side. Add to this, that both his society and mine are anxious that the old enmity between the two parishes may now be done away, since two young men are placed over them. But I hope I shall be able to act as duty requires." Here, certainly, was a combination of motives, powerful beyond all others, to influence a man situated as he was. Nothing, which he could do, would have so immediately raised him in 182 M E M, 0O I P O F the popular estimation, as to have approved and taken part iil the ordination. The excellent general character, and distinguished attainments of the candidate, which he was quick to perceive, and forward to appreciate, the interesting relations of the two societies, the almost universal wish, and the equally extensive disappointment and chagrin, which would follow upon his dissent, and numerous other circumstances, pleaded with an eloquence, which it required a martyr's firmness to resist. But it was not a question for mere feelings to decide. There was a higher umpire. He had derived his instructions from an infallible source, and they left him no discretionary power in the case. The same authority had prescribed the qualifications of "a good minister of Jesus Christ." Nor had he forgotten the caution, which, in circumstances of peculiar solemnity, had been enforced upon him respecting the exercise of one of the most important prerogatives conferred by his commission. The result of the examination, and of a comparison, in this instance, of what was developed with the requisitions of God's word, was a firm conviction that he could not co-operate with the Council in the ordination. Nor did he, like some others, merely decline to act; he raised his hand against proceeding. He did not only evade responsibility on the one hand, but he assumed it on the other. His opposition was open and manly; and he found, in an approving conscience, a satisfaction, which was cheaply purchased by the temporary loss of popular favor, and by suffering all the odium, which, in consequence of that act, he incurred. He thus alludes to it in a letter to his father:"The ordination is over........ I shall not trouble you with an account of the good-natured speeches which are made respecting my conduct. You can easily conceive of them, and will join with me in rejoicing, that I share the blessedness of those, concerning whom all manner of evil is spoken, FALSELY, for Christ's sake. It will only be a nine days' wonder to the good folks and gossips, who will lament, in very pathetic strains, that Mr. Payson should have such bigoted, narrow, party views, and that there cannot be harmony and peace between the two churches." EDWARD PAYSON. 183 Time, instead of reversing, has confirmed the correctness of his decision. The difierence between his creed and that which he opposed, is now generally admitted, by the adherents of both, to be as wide as Mr. Payson made it. He was a magnanimous opponent, who did not allow a difference of opinion to interrupt "the charities of life;" and his conduct in this respect was reciprocated.-We now return to his letters. " JUNE 5, 109. "MY DEAREST MOTHER:-You judged right wvith respect to my anxiety to hear from home; for after the first of your letters, giving an account of my father's illness, arrived, 1 could scarcely rest till the arrival of the other; and had it not been for the approaching ordination, and some promising appearances among my people, I should, ere this, have been at home. I must confess that I am surprised, as well as grieved, that father should persist in preaching, when it is so clearly and indispensably his duty to desist; especially after the admonitions he lhas given me on that subject. He would see and allow, with respect to any person in the same situation, that it was wrong to preach. Perhaps my language may appear almost disrespectful; but on this subject, I am too nearly interested, to use the cold language of strict propriety. I cannot be silent; and should the consequences which I fear result from his preaching, it would ever be with me a subject of bitter regret, that I had not done all in my power to prevent it. He must desist. It is a duty which he owes himself, his family, his people, and his God, to desist; for preaching now will be his death; and his family and people will repent too late, if they do not prevail upon him not to preach again till he is better. Mark my words, for I will have nothing to reproach myself with, be the consequences what they may. If I were at home, he should walk over my body, before he could get into the pulpit. Excuse me, my dear mother, and plead with him to pardon my boldness; but I am distressed with the bare apprehension of what the consequence may be." "JULY 7. "My health continues to mend, though slowly. I get over the fatigue of preaching much sooner than I did, and my food 184 MEMIOIR OF and sleep nourish and refresh me, which has not been the case till lately. The religious attention appears rather to increase than diminish; but though it is pleasant to see inquirers, yet the constant anxiety which they occasion, lest they should go back, is exceedingly painful, and wears upon nature. I know it is wrong thus to take Christ's work out of his hands, and to perplex myself respecting events, over which I have no control; but as yet I cannot wholly refrain, though the fault, like most faults, carries its own punishment with it. I am at present, unless greatly deceived, in the worst part of the Christian race. My people love me, but I cannot enjoy their kindness, lest, instead of rendering me thankful, it should only feed pride. 1 can take no pleasure in any success that attends my labors for similar reasons. I am surrounded with blessings more than I should have dared to hope for; but this accursed sin turns them all to poison and bitterness. Were it not for this, how happy might I be! But, blessed be God, this shows me, more and more clearly, what an evil and bitter thing it is to forsake the Lord of Hosts." "PORTLAND, AUG. 1, 1809. " MY DEAR SISTER:-My time is so much engrossed by parochial affairs, that, till this moment, I have had no leisure to write, and must now steal time from other things which require my attention. You can have no conception, unless you were present, how my time is taken up. Every moment is mortgaged before it arrives, and, notwithstanding all my exertions, the business seems to grow upon my hands; so that I am ready to sit down in despair, and do nothing. If every day was as long as ten, there would be ample employment for every hour. I find scarcely any time to read or study, and am constrained to go into the pulpit with discourses so undigested, that my pride is continually mortified; and though it lies groaning and bleeding under continual wounds, it will not be persuaded to give up the ghost. However, so long as God is pleased to carry on his work with such discourses, 1 have no right to complain or be discouraged; since, the feebler the means, the more he is glorified. And I hope that, some time or other, I shall learn to be willing to be counted a fool, that all the glory may redound to his wisdom. But this is a hard lesson to learn. To be willing to be nothing, to rejoice to be nothing, that God may be all hi EDWARD PAYSON. 185 all; to glory in infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon us —this is the temper which I pine and hunger after; but, alas! it appears at a distance so great, that I despair of ever reaching any where near it in this world. If we could put God entirely in the place of self, consider his will as our will, his honor as our honor, his happiness as our happiness, his interest as our interest, and pursue it accordingly, how happy should we be! And how happy shall we be in that world, where this will be the case, and where the very stump of that Dagon, self, will not be permitted to remain in our hearts, as the rival of our blessed Redeemer. 0, to.be holy as God is holy-this is to be happy, according to our measure, as God is happy. Strive then, my dear, dear sister, strive, wrestle, pray, long and pant after holiness. If I cannot be holy myself, yet I long to see others holy. If I cannot love and praise the ever-blessed Redeemer, it is almost heaven sufficient to see him loved and praised by others. If we could render to him according to his benefits!-but we cannot, we cannot; we must be content to be, as it were, crushed to all eternity under an insupportable weight of goodness; for even the disposition to praise him for favors already received, is a new favor, which still adds to the mighty debt; and the faster he enables us to render back what we receive, so nuch the faster do our obligations increase. And yet, instead of praising him, we are constantly sinning. I hope it is not so bad with others, but, with respect to myself, there seems to be constant strife between him and me, whether I shall exceed in provoking, or he in pardoning; whether I shall succeed in destroying myself by my own madness and folly against his will, or he succeed in saving me in spite of myself. But in this strife he still conquers, and will conquer. I have done every thing to provoke him to leave me; but he will not be provoked. He will still return to humble me, and shame me; and I am ready to call on the rocks and mountains to fall on me, and hide me from the tender, expostulating, heart-breaking, soul-subduing glances of his eye, which fill me with such shame and confusion, that it seems as if I could more easily endure the lightnings of his indignation. Were all his people like me, and were justice done upon them, surely they would be sentenced to some hell more dreadful than that which is prepared for others. VOL. I. 24 186 MEMOIR OF " We have still considerable attention to religion. The number of inquirers is upwards of forty, and many more are serious. We had hoped for hundreds ere this; but God keeps us waiting, and praying, and still gives a spirit of prayer." "PORTLAND, SEPT. 22, 1809. " MY DEAREST MOTHER:-The attention to religion still continues. Last communion, we admitted eleven to the church, and next Sabbath we shall admit twelve more. The appetite for hearing seems insatiable, and our assemblies aremore crowded than ever. Many have lately joined us. However, the gospel proves a savor of death unto death, as well as of life unto life. Many seem to be awfutlly hardened, and many severe reflections are cast upon religion and its professors. " After telling you that religion thus flourishes among us, I am ashamed to complain; for what reason of complaint can a minister have, while he sees the cause of Christ triumphant? Nor do I complain of anything except myself. Every earthly thing is imbittered to me, and the enjoyments of religion are kept far above my reach. I am overwhelmed by one wave of temptation after another. My bodily powers are kept in such a continual state of exhaustion, and my nerves are so weak, that mole-hills appear to be mountains, and I am ready to stumble at a straw; and when imaginary evils disappear, I find real perplexities and difficulties, which weigh me down in the dust. I know, indeed, that all these things are necessary; and when I am left in my own possession, I would not wish to have my burden lightened. At times, too, I am' holpen with a little help,' so that, though cast down, I am not utterly destroyed. But how desperate, how inconceivable, must be the wickedness of that heart, which draws down such sufferings from the hand of the compassionate Saviour, and requires such painful reredies to heal it." " PORTLAND, Nov. 1, 1809. "MY DEAR SISTER:-It is no small disappointment to me, and I flatter myself that it will be some disappointment to you, that I am under the necessity of sending this inanimate scroll, to see and inquire after you, instead of coming myself, as I expected, and partly promised. But my health does not absolutely require a journey this season; and my engagements are such, that I EDWARD PAYSON. 187 know not how to be absent a single day. In the first place, the situation of the parish requires my presence. The people still have a hearing ear, but there is more opposition; more attempts to mislead young converts, and turn aside inquirers, than formerly; and therefore, I wish to be with them. Besides, the neighboring ministers are stirred up to more diligence and attention. They have lately adopted the custom of keeping days of fasting and prayer, and inviting in a number of preachers; and I have some engagements of this kind, just now, which I am unwilling to leave. We have already had three days of this kind in three of the neighboring towns, and hope to extend it through the whole association. We are just establishing a Bible Society, also, and this employs considerable time at present; so that, with these and other things which require attention, I am too much engaged to leave home; and I trust you will not suspect my affection diminishes, because I, at this time, prefer duty to pleasure. " My hopes respecting - ~ increase. He tells his people some solemln truths; and a lawyer from'-~*., who was formerly acquainted with him, says he is spoilt, and that, though he used to be a good rational preacher, he is in a fair way to become an enthusiast. What a glorious instance of sovereign mercy it would be, should God bless that parish with a faithful minister! "The cause of evangelical religion is certainly gaining ground in this eastern country. Mr. J. of B., on whom the liberal party placed great reliance, has lately come out full on the side of orthodoxy. President A. was thought to be wavering, but lie is now quite decided; and if Mr. - - does not disappoint our hopes, I think the *'*** ***- will lose all hopes of liberalizing the District of Maine. Violent and systematic attempts, however, are making here in opposition to truth. Pamphlets are circulated to prove that all the hard texts in the Bible refer to primitive times; and the new Socinian translation of the New Testament threatens to produce mischief; but, while the enemy comes in as a flood, the Spirit of the Lord is lifting up a standard against him. Within two years, five orthodox ministers have been settled, or are about settling, in this association, which includes the county of Cumberland, and many others preach very different doctrine fiom what they formerly did." 188 MEMOIR OF His afflictive melancholy had now become comparatively harmless; for, though it did not cease to distress him, its tyrannical power was broken, and it much less frequently impeded his mental efforts. There is one allusion, however, to this mode of its operation, which is peculiarly characteristic: —" Was employed in vain attempts to prepare for lecture. Did nothing, all day, but learn the old lesson over again, that without Christ I can do nothing.'Were I not the dullest of alL scholars, I mlight spare my heavenly Father the trouble of teaching me this lesson again." In his frequent seasons of illness, and his multiplied public engagements, he saw cause of danger that his private devotions would suffer interruption or abatement. To guard against such an evil, appears to have been one object of the following resolutions, which were adopted, or renewed, near the close of this year:1. I will, on no pretence whatever, omit reading the Scriptures, with prayer, morning and evening. " 2. When practicable, I will spend one day in every week in fasting and prayer.' 3. I will allow but six hours for sleep. " 4. I will endeavor to redeem the time by being diligent and fervent in business. 5. I will live more to the glory of God than I have done. " 6. I will, every evening, review my conduct through the day, and see how far I have fulfilled these resolutions." To the peculiar trials which distinguished this year, the merciful Redeemer provided an antidote in the spiritual blessings which he bestowed. Under the labors of his servant, sinners were converted, and the church was increased by an addition of forty-four members. CHAPTER XI. Permanency and strength of maternal influence-Correspondence-eDeatlhbed( anguisl, how alleviated-Disgraceful incident-Price of popularityReasons of fobrmer trials developed-Letters, &c. THE reader is not to infer that the subject of this narrative ceased to " give himself continually unto prayer," because the daily-recorded testimony of the fact, to which appeal has so often been made, is less frequently introduced. This was an employment of which he seems never to have grown weary, and which there are no indications that he ever relaxed. He'" dwelt in the secret place of the Most High, and abode under the shadow of the Almighty." His accumulated burden of cares and sorrows he every day brought with him to the throne of grace, and retired thence relieved from its pressure, or strengthened to sustain it.' DEC. 29. Was enabled to agonize in prayer for myself and people, and to make intercession with unutterable groanings. IMy heart and flesh cried out for the living God. Felt very strong hope that God was about to work wonders among us." How well his mother understood his character-how sagacious she was in her aims at his heart, always successful in touching the chord that would be sure to vibrate-in a word, how assiduous and valuable a comforter she was-is apparent from hIis answers to her letters: "PORTLAND, FEB. 3, 1S10.' MY D)EAR MOTHER:-I do' bless Heaven' if I am madRe' the 190 M E i1OIR OF joy of my parents' heart,' and esteem it one of the greatest mercies for which I have reason to be thankful. Just before I received the letter which contained this consoling assurance, I was wondering what such a poor, miserable, worthless wretch was ever made for, and why I should be preserved in existence............ But, if I can afford any joy to my parents, or to any one else, I think I am willing to live, let my trials be ever so great; and I bless God, and thank you for sending me that letter just at the right time. It proved a very seasonable and refreshing cordial to a fainting spirit. But methinks I hear you ask,'Why do you talk of fainting, when you have so much reason to rejoice and praise God for his goodness?' I faint because I find no heart, in the midst of all his goodness, to praise him for it. I faint because, while I feed others, I am left to pine in hunger, and am parched with thirst. In proportion as my labors are blessed to others, my sorrows and sins increase; and, though I am assisted in keeping the vineyard of others, my own runs to waste. I cannot think that any one but a minister knows any thing of a minister's trials; and I believe Paul had a peculiar reference to them when he said,-' If in this life only we have hope, we are of all men most miserable.' * * * - * " The attention to religion continues among us, and has much increased within a few weeks. It seems to be spreading more among the men. There are some favorable appearances in the neighboring towns. Last week, and the week before) and this week, I have attended fasts, in different places, which have been observed with prayer for a revival of religion, and am engaged to attend another next week. " I preached yesterday on our Saviour's words to his disciples " All power is given to me in heaven and in earth." What an animating assurance to his people, when they have a strong faith to take hold of it!" F EB. 8. Was favored with great fervor and freedom at the throne of grace this morning. Longed only to be employed as an instrument of glorifying Christ, and was willing to drink of his cup, and to be baptized with his baptism, if I might have a double portion of his Spirit. In the afternoon and evening, attended conferences, and was grievously disappointed to find no new inquirers." EDWARD PAYSON. 191 " APRIL 17, 1SlO. "MvY DEAREST MOTHER: — have just received your affectionate letter, and thalnk you most sincerely for the maternal love which breathes in every line. God grant that I may be made worthy of all the proofs of parental affection with which I am mercifiully favored. If I derive any pleasure from the success with which our gracious Master is pleased to crown my labors in the ministry, it, in a great measure, arises fiom the happiness which I know this success gives my friends at home. Next to glorifying God, by doing good to mankind, it is my chief desire to be made the means of promoting your happiness. My situation is now as agreeable as I ever expect it will be on earth; and I shall not be in a hurry to change it. I now hear none but religious conversation; every day seems like a Sabbath, and we have a little image of heaven upon earth. You will I know, join with me in blessing our bounteous Benefactor for this fresh instance of his goodness. "I rejoice, most sincerely rejoice, with you, and especially with my dear father, in the hopefiul appearances which attend his labors. He has long been going forth weeping, bearing precious seed. I hope he will now be enabled to come again rejoicing, bringing with him the sheaves of an abundant harvest. I still feel exceedingly anxious respecting his health, but must leave it with God.'L My own health continues very much the same —rather better of late, if any different. I do not expect it will be restored till the attention to religion ceases; for it does not answer for me to have too many blessings at once.'"We are still favored with the presence of the Spirit of grace, though in a less degree than formerly. Appearances, however, begin again to look more encouraging. The young converts, who have made a profession, with a very few exceptions, bid fair to do honor to the cause. Some of them, especally, advance very rapidly; and the mouths of opposers, who seek occasion to blaspheme, are stopped. The congregation, and especially the church, continue affectionate as ever. In short, I am a wonder to myself, and can scarcely believe wlhat I daily see of the goodness of God. You will naturally conclude, however, that inward trials will not be wanting where 1932 WIMEM OILR OF outward comforts are so multiplied. I thought, long since, that I had endured every thing horrible and dreadful that was ever elt, heard of, or conceived; but I find that the depths of Sacan, ld of a heart desperately wicked, are not so easily fathomed.' iese unfathomable depths, however, only serve to show me more clearly the infinite heights and depths of Christ's love; and I know that he who delivered me out of the paw of the lion and the bear will deliver me from every foe, however gigantic. It is but a moment, my mother, and we shall be singing the song of redeeming love together before the thrtone. Yes; our salvation is nearer than we believed. Every moment it comes hastening on, and to-morrow it will be here. Yes; to-morrow we shall be as the angels of God. 0 for patience to wait for the glory which will be revealed, and to endure the previous light afflictions, which continue but for a moment! " The affectionate minister has joys peculiar to himself, or rather to his office; and the same may be said of his trials. He is the father of his flock, so far as the relation supposes a community of feeling in their happiness and misery. Inconsiderate transgressors know little of the anguish which they bring upon the pastor who warns and entreats them *to seek "the good and right way; " and they undervalue his counsels and his prayers till roused by some affecting providence, or brought down to the very gate of death, and then there is nothing on earth which they so much covet. The case mentioned below is, perhaps, a marked one; and yet what faithful minister could not name instances which form no distant parallels to this! "MAY 12. Was permitted to draw near to God with joy and confidence. 0 how astonishing is his goodness! A little lwhile since, I thought it impossible I should ever be delivered from the grasp of sin. But he has brought me up from the horrible pit and miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and put a new song into my mouth, even praise unto his name. Had scarcely fallen asleep, when I was called up to visit a dying woman. Found her in all the agonies of despair; and her dreadful shrieks pierced my very soul, and almost curdled my blood with horror. Prayed, in an agony of spirit, that CGod EDWARD PAYSON. 193 would snatch her as a brand from the burning. After prayer, she was more quiet, and sunk into an imperfect sleep. Came away broken down with a load of anguish. MAY 13. Sabbath. Rose languid, and exhausted in body and mind. The shrieks of the dying woman rang in my ears incessantly. Between meetings, was called to visit her again. Found her composed and happy, rejoicing in the Lord, and apparently resigned to live or die. On examination, found reason to believe that she was really reconciled to God, and yet could hardly believe it. Could scarcely look upon it as an answer to prayer, and still knew not how to avoid considering it as such. "MAY 17. Was much enlivened, to-day, by hearing that a remarkable spirit of prayer was poured out, last evening, at meeting. Could not but hope that the Lord was about to take the work into his own hands. in the evening, attended the conference for inquirers. Was still more encouraged by hearing that the Spirit was again remarkably present at a prayermeeting of the church this evening. Felt almost confident that the Lord was about to make bare his arm in a wonderful manner. Was so much animated and enlivened by this hope, that I could scarcely recover sufficient tranquillity of mind to pray that my hopes might not be disappointed. MAY 24. Was excessively feeble all day. In the afternoon and evening, attended the conference for inquirers, but found only one. Was, at first, discouraged; but afterwards reflected, that it is God's method to bring us low, before he raises us." "FRIDAY EVE, JUNE 15. "MY DEAREST MOTHER:-I arrived here, this afternoon, after an agreeable ride, and found a house of mourning waiting for me. The young lady I mentioned died last Wednesday morning. The grief of the family, and my own feelings, you can better conceive than I describe. The pious members, however. are wonderfully supported, so that they are an astonishment to themselves. The funeral is to be to-morrow, having been delayed one day for my return. " Pray for me. My friends at home are much endeared to me by their kindness during my late visit. I always feel vexed at myself, after coming away that I did not say more on that VOL. i. 25 194 ME MO IR OF subject, and seem more sensible of their goodness, while I was with them. But, some how or other, it is contrary to my nature to tell people how much I love and thank them." "JULY 19, 1810. -- "Grief has a wonderful efficacy, as you observe, in softening the heart; and suffering binds us to fellow-sufferers: so that I cannot tell what may be the event. "I have much new cause for gratitude since I left home. The minister at, a smooth, liberal preacher, has been long intemperate, and lately fell from his horse into a slough, on his way to meeting. He was, on this dismissed; and as he was not the first bad minister the people had been cursed with, they have contracted a strong prejudice against the Congregational clergy. They, however, wrote to me to come and preach for them one Sabbath, if I could, and I accordingly went. I was treated with great kindness, had a very crowded, attentive, and solemn assembly; and from letters since received in town, it appears that not a few were deeply affected, and convinced of sin. They are exceedingly desirous that I should come again; and unless they succeed in getting a candidate soon, I shall go. They are determined to have none come, who are not orthodox. If I had health and strength, I might apparently do much good by thus preaching in different places." The youthful reader, especially if he be a candidate for"the ministry, will do well to pause over the following instructive paragraph:"As you suspect, popularity costs me dear; and, did it not afford me the means of being more extensively useful, I should heartily pray to be delivered from it, as the greatest of all curses. Since the novelty has worn off, it affords me no pleasure; and yet I am continually wishing for more, though it feeds nothing but pride. If we had no pride, I believe applause would give ut no pleasure. But no one can conceive how dearly it is purchased; what unspeakably dreadful temptations, buffetings, and w7orkings of depravity, are necessary to counteract the pernic(1ous effects of this poison. It is, indeed, the first and last prayer, which I wish my friends to offer up for me, that I may be kept EDWARD PAYSON. 195 humble; and if your too great and undeserved affection for me will exert itself in this way-that is, in praying for me —it may preserve your gourd from the blast and the worm. "Mr. R. remains very much the same. His physicians give but faint hopes of his recovery. Why am not I cut down, and he spared? ), I am tired of receiving innumerable mercies without gratitude, and of committing innumerable sins without suitable sorrow.... That word'rest' grows exceedingly sweet to me. 0,'when shall I fly away, and be at rest?' " The work still goes on. Dr. -'s church have, in some measure, caught the flame, and compelled their ministers, reluctantly, I believe, to set up conferences. They have said so much against evening meetings, that it is hard now to set them up. But they are obliged to do it; and, to use the language of the world, the town is in danger of growing madder than ever.' Confidence in the wisdom and goodness of divine providence usually reconciles the Christian to trials, and sustains him under the occurrence of events, which, at the time, are wholly inexplicable. He rests on the kind assurance of his Redeemer, "What thou knowest not now, thou shalt know hereafter." And, though this promise refers him to a period beyond the confines of mortality, when the light of heaven shall beam on the intricacies of Providence, and put to flight the darkness which envelopes them; yet, even in the present world, be is often surprised with discoveries of the design and tendency of such dispensations, which render him grateful for them, and cause him to bless God, who made them a part of his paternal discipline. In retracing his path through life, he sees his most dreaded calamities connected with his choicest mercies, his lowest depression with his highest elevation-and so connected, that, without the former, the latter would not have been. That which threatened the destruction of his ability to do good, he finds to be his highest qualification for usefulness. Such are the developments which already begin to appear in the history of this afflicted and beloved man. Henceforth the reader will revert to the dark shades of the past with more of complacency, and cease to look even upon his seasons of heartrending spiritual anguish, as worse than blank portions of existence. He suffered not for himself alone; the Church of 196 MEMOIR OF the Redeemer was indirectly, yet largely benefitted by what he endured; and many of her members were, probably, prevented from making shipwreck of faith, and sinking into irrecoverable despondency, in consequence of having for a guide and counsellor one who had narrowly escaped a similar catastrophe. The amount of suffering, which his own mental agony was thus the occasion of preventing, will not be known till the great day. But, long before he exchanged his armor for the victor's crovn, he could appropriate the language of Paul-"-I now rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh, for his body's sake, which is the church.''PORTLAND, AUG. 8, 1810. "MY DEAREST SISTER:-I have nothing interesting to write, and my spirits are so completely jaded and exhausted, that they will not bear the fatigue of invention. I cannot spiritualize, nor moralize, but must confine myself to dull narration; and, what is still worse, have nothing to narrate. I have, indeed, one piece of good news, though you have, probably, heard of it ere this. Mr. R. is better, and there are great hopes of his recovery. His complaints, I believe, are precisely similar to mine. "We go on here pretty much as usual. Satan is extremely busy with Christians, and a large proportion of our church have been, and still are, exercised with the most dreadful and distressing temptations. I now understand the reason of my dreadful trials at Marlborough. Had it not been for them, I should have been still more unfit for my present situation, than I am at present. Often should I be utterly at a loss what to say or think, had not a wise and gracious Master foreseen what I should need, and taken measures accordingly. "He has been pleased, of late, to bless my endeavors to comfort his tempted and distressed people with wonderful success. I often stand astonished at it myself, and seem to look upon it as a greater honor and favor, than even to be owned in the conversion of sinners. If I can be permitted to do this, I seem willing to stay and suffer every thing which he sees fit to lay upon me. But I tremble at what may be the consequence. Those who find my endeavors blessed to comfort them, of course grow more and more affectionate; and I fear lest they prove guilty of creature-idolatry, and thus provoke God to wither their gourd. EDWA R D PAYSON. 197 i have warned them of the danger of this in private, and have, at last, openly preached against it; but God does not seem to bless it to their conviction, and, I fear, we shall both smart for it. He is a jealous God, and if his people put a servant in his place, wo be to the poor creature who is thus set up against him. Pray for me, therefore, and pray for my people. When I ask them to pray for me, they only smile, and reply, that I need not their prayers. In short, we are all young here, and have little experience; and if God does not prevent, we shall rush into all manner of extravagance. "Since I wrote last, I have been to preach at a place near this, where they have been stupid almost to a proverb. But I hear now, that conference meetings are set up; the minister is roused; and many are earnestly inquiring what they shall do. "Another minister, who lives about - miles from this, has lately rode into town, week after week, to attend our lectures. He told his people, that though he had to hire a horse, yet he was always amply repaid. He has been very lax, but a great alteration has taken place in his preaching and conduct, and there is -onsiderable attention excited among his people. "After aJI this, you will not wonder to hear that I am borne down with heavy burdens; pressed out of strength above measure, so as, at times, to despair even of life. All this is necessary, absolutely necessary, and I desire to consider it as a mercy; but it is hard, very hard to bear. If any one asks to be made a successful minister, he knows not what he asks; and it becomes him to consider, whether he can drink deeply of Christ's bitter cup, and be baptized with his baptism. If we could learn, indeed, to give all the glory to God, and keep only the sin and imperfections to ourselves, we might be spared these trials. And one would think this easy enough. One would think, that Jonah could hardly be proud of his success among the Ninevites; and we have, if possible, less reason to be proud than he. But pride will live and thrive without reason, and in despite of every reason to the contrary. " PORTLAND, SEPT. 20, 1810. "MY DEAR SISTER:-I thank you most sincerely for your letter, which I have just received; but I do not thank you at all for the reason which you assign for not writing more frequently. It seems, forsooth, that I am so wonderfully wise and good, that 198 MEMOIR OF you dare not write to me. My dear sister, this is little better than downright mockery-not that I suspect you of a design to mock me-but your commendations, however sincere, are cutting, very cutting, and I beg you to wound me no more with them. Go and congratulate a wretch on the rack upon the happiness which he enjoys; tell a beggar of his riches, an illiterate peasant of his learning, or a deformed cripple of his strength and beauty; but mock not a vile, stupid sinner, ready to sink under an almost insupportable weight of guilt and iniquity, with commendations of his goodness, or a blind, ignorant creature with compliments upon his wisdom and knowledge. You are ready, perhaps, to look upon my situation as enviable; but if you knew what I suffer in a single day, you would fall down on your knees, and bless God that you are not a minister. Not that I consider it as a small favor to be placed in this sacred office, and honored with some degree of acceptance and success. I know it is a post which an angel might envy, and I can never, to all eternity, bless God sufficiently for putting me into it, and supporting me under a pressure of its duties. I would not part with the privilege of preaching Christ crucified to perishing sinners, and of administering to the consolation of Gou's afflicted people, to be made monarch of the world. But 0 the agonies, the unutterable, inconceivable agonies, which must be endured by those who attempt, with such a heart as mine, to perform this work! I shudder with horror, to thinl of the scenes through which I have been obliged to pass, and shrink back fiom those through which I must yet pass before I reach the rest prepared for the people of God. It is, however, some comfort, that the time, when I shall quit this scene of trial, cannot be far distant. Nature cannot hold out under what I endure; and I trust that, ere many years, I shall be safe in the grave, where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. If, meanwhile, I may be preserved from insanity, and from wounding the cause of Christ, by falling into open wickedness, it is all I ask for, and perhaps more than I have any reason to expect. It is a dreadful thought, that no Christian on earth, however holy, hunble, and watchful he may at present be, has any security against falling into open sin before he dies. As to resolving that we will not thus fall, it avails nothing. As well might a stone resolve not to fall, when the power which upheld it is removed. EDWARD PAYSON. 199 You will; perhaps, say, We may hope that God will uphold us for the sake of his cause. So David might have hoped. It seemed very important that he should be preserved-and yet, how he fell! And what reason, then, have I to hope that I shall not fall? And, if I should, it would injure the cause of religion infinitely more than all my labors will ever advance it. " The following letter is without date, but cannot be materially out of its place:"My health remains much the same. I have enjoyed more in religion, since my last journey to Rindge, than during my whole ministry before. My distressing exercises have vanished-I sometimes hope, never to return; and my thoughts are so unusually drawn upward, that I cannot avoid concluding that my stay on earth is to be but short. My church are many of them of the same opinion. They tell me they are certain that I shall not continue with them long. Sometimes I am tempted to wish that my expectations may soon be realized. At others, I wish to stay a little longer, and tell sinners what a precious Saviour Jesus is. But the Lord's will be done. Welcome life, welcome death, welcome any thing from his hand. The world-O what a bubble-what a trifle it is! Friends are nothing, fame is nothing, health is nothing, life is nothing; Jesus, Jesus is ALL! O what will it be to spend an eternity in seeing and praising Jesus! to see him as he is, to be satisfied with his likeness! 0, I long, I pant, I faint with desire to be singing, Worthy is the Lamb-to be extolling the riches of sovereign grace-to be casting the crown at the feet of Christ! And why may we not do all this on earth'? My dearest sister, we may do it, if it is not our own fault. Pause a moment, and try to conceive how they feel, and what they are at this moment doing in heaven. Pause and reflect till you hear their songs, and feel your heart glow with their love. Then shout aloud,' Worthy is the Lamb, for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed me by thy blood. Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain, to receive glory, and blessing, and honor, and power!' But I must desist. "Remember me most affectionately to our dear parents; and I hope that they and you are willing that I should go to heaven first." 200 PMEMOIR OF "PORTLAND, DEC. 10, 1S10. MY DEAREST MOTHER:-Since my return, it has pleased my adorable Saviour, in his sovereign mercy, to give me clearer and more transporting views of himself than I have ever before enjoyed; and I have no leisure or thoughts to bestow on any thing else. He has brought me up out of the horrible pit, where I have so long been sinking, and put a new song in my mouth; and 0 that all creation would join with me in singing his praises! I have sometimes heard of spells and charms to excite love, and have wished for them, when a boy, that I might cause others to love me. But how much more do I now wish for some charm which should lead men to love the Saviour! What would I not give for the power to make sinners love him, for the faculty of describing his beauties and glories in such a manner as to excite warmer affections towards him in the hearts of Christians! Could I paint a true likeness of him, methinks I should rejoice to hold it up to the view and admiration of all creation, and be hid behind it forever. It would be heaven enough to hear him praised and adored, though no one should know or care about insignificant me. But I cannot paint him; I cannot describe him; I cannot make others love him; nay, I cannot love him a thousandth part so much as I ought myself. I faint, I sink under the weight of infinite, insupportable obligations. 0 for an angel's tongue-O for the tongues of ten thousand angels, to sound his praises! I would fain do something for him, but I can do nothing. I cannot even attempt to do any thing without his grace; and the more I am enabled to do in his service, so much the more is the load of obligation increased. 0 that God, who alone is able, would glorify his Son! This, at present, is all my salvation, and all my desire, that Christ may be glorified. For this reason, I long and pray for a revival. I long that the blessed Jesus should receive some more suitable returns for his wondrous love to our ruined race. We are hoping that this will be the case here. I hope the church begin to awake and pray more earnestly than ever, and that we shall yet see hundreds here praising the everblessed Redeemer. It seems of no consequence what becomes of me. It seems of no consequence what becomes of sinners, comparatively speaking. But, 0, it is of infinite consequence that Christ should be glorified. My dearest mother, do strive EDWARD PAYSON. 201 to love him more than ever. Do strive to make others love him. 0, if it was not for a hope of doing something for his glory, how could we be content to live a single hour absent from his presence above! "I shall not wonder if you think me mad. I have been mad, and am just beginning to see my madness. 0 howi little zeal, how little love, have I manifested! How madly have 1 misimproved my time and talents! how wretchedly neglected the all-important work to which I am called! how it Iglrateful ly requited the best of Saviours! How often have I called hlis love and faithfulness in question, at the very time he was taking the best possible measures to promote my happiness! Nov he returns to humble me, and shame me for my folly and ingratitude. 0, I know not how to bear this astonishing, overwhelming goodness! Methinks I could bear his anger-but his love cuts me to the heart. O that I may be dumb, and not open my mouth any more, since he is pacified towards me for all that 1 have done! 0 that, for the remainder of life; I could hear of nothing, think of nothing, speak of nothing, but the wonders of his person, his character, and redeeming love! But, unless he prevents it, I shall wander again, and act over, not only once, but often, all my past sins. It seems now infinitely better to die, than to be guilty of this; but he knows, and will do, what is best." "DEC.. 16. Sabbath. This day completes three years since my ordination. What a miserable, unprofitable servant have I been! In the afternoon, preached, with much difficulty, from Ezekiel, xxxiii, 7-9. Was much affected, and my hearers appeared scarcely less so. Came home excessively fatigued. but rejoicing in God." This year, forty-two souls were gathered into the church. VOL. I. 26 CHAPTER XII. Iloly aspirations. Gratitude to the Saviour. Multiplied labors. Novel fimily scene. Danger averted. "Curious fiamle." Flattery deprecated. His marriage. Becomes sole pastor of the church. Retrospect of the year. "IDE. 17, 1810. I now commence the fourth year of my ministry. Whether I shall live to finish it God only knows. O that it may be spent to better purpose than those which are passed! " DEC. 29. Felt the blessed effects of casting all my cares upon him who careth for me. In family prayer, was most unulsually drawn out towards God, and felt as much like an inhabitant of heaven as I ever expect to feel here. All earthly objects were swallowed up; self appeared to be nothing, and God to be all in all. Felt as if my time on earth would be short. I was in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart and be with Christ, and yet wishing to stay, that I might tell others what a precious Saviour he is. But the Lord's will be done. Welcome any thing which he pleases to send. " DEc. 31. Spent the day in visiting. In the evening, met a number of Christian friends, and had a sweet season in con.versing upon heaven. Our hearts seemed to burn within us, and it was a little foretaste of heaven." These quotations furnish pretty fair specimens of his religious feelings for several months, excepting those intervals when he was greatly reduced and disheartened by sickness. On emerging from the darkness of such a season, he writes: MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. 203 "JAN. 1.0, 1811. This morning, God was pleased to return, and lift me out of the dust. The great comforts with which I was favored, some time since, rendered me proud, and I needed a season of darkness to humble me Had much freedom, and some brokenness of heart, this morning, in secret and family prayer, and some ability to plead with God not to forsake us. O how sovereign and free is his grace!" Under the same date, he writes to his mother: - " Last Sabbath was communion with us. 1 preached trom Zech. iii. 2:'Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire' What a just and striking description of every redeemed sinner! and what a. glorious idea does it afford us of the work of redemption! To snatch a smoking brand from eternal burnings, and plant it among the stars in the firmament of heaven, there to shine like the sun forever —, what a glorious work is this! a work worthy of God! a work which none but God could perform. Such a brand am I-a brand yet smoking with the half-extinguished fires of sin; a brand, scorched and blackened by the flames of hell. What then do I owe to him, who entered the furnace of divine wrath, that he might bring me out! who spread himself over me as a shield from that fiery storm, which would have set me forth an example, like Sodom, suffering the vengeance of eternal fire. " I have no heart to speak or write about any thing but Jesus; and yet I have little patience to write about him in our miserably defective language. O for a language suitable to speak his praises, and describe his glory and beauty! But they cannot be described-they cannot be conceived; for'no man knoweth the Son, but the Father.' What a wonderful idea does that text give us of the Son! Saints in heaven do not know him perfectly; even the angels do not. None but the Father is able to comprehend all his excellence. Yet various, great, unsearchable, infinite, as are his excellences, they are all ours; our Saviour, our Head,'our flesh and our bone.' 0, wonder!-hov passing wonderful is this! Methinks, if 1 could borrow, for a moment, the archangcl's trump, and make heaven, earth and hell resound with'Worthy is the Lamb that was slain!' I could contentedly drop into nothing. But no, 204 ME M 0 OF I should wish to live; and make them resound with his nmani through eternity. What a transporting thought-to spend an eternity in exalting God and the Lamb; in beholding their glory, and hearing them extolled by all creatures!-this is heaven indeed. To be swallowed up and lost in God; to have our spirits embraced, wrapped up in his all-infolding Spirit; to forget ourselves, and think only of him; to lose, in a manner, our own separate existence, and exist only in him; to have his glory all in all to us; this is, indeed, a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." About a month later, he gives this account of their spiritual prospects:-"Our hopes of increasing attention begin to revive again. Some recent instances of conviction have taken place, and we have about thirty very serious inquirers. The church, too are more roused, and we have as yet had no scandals, among us for the world to take hold of. I cannot but hope,that God designs to raise up a church here, which will shine briglt, and be like a city set on a hill. Satan buffets them sorely; but the more he buffets them, the faster they grow. I hope yet, if God pleases, to see - seated with us at the communion table. It would, I doubt not, rejoice your very heart." Some idea of the variety and amount of his labors may be collected from a single sentence, which is incidentally introduced into a letter, dated February 17:-"I preach, or do what is, at least, as laborious, six nights in a week, besides talking incessantly, a considerable part of every day." It is not improbable, that to his private intercourse, not less than his public addresses, the rapid prosperity of religion is to be ascribed. His inventive genius seemed to delight in finding out as many ways as possible, by which a religious influence might be brought to bear upon those to whom he had access. Take the following domestic scene as an illustration: it is unquestionably the offspring of his own pious ingenuity; for it bears as infallible marks of its parentage, as the description of it does of his pen:" I will give you a little sketch of our family way of living, that you may adopt it if you please. In the first place, EDWARD PAYSON. 205 we have agreed, that, if either of us says a word, which tends in the least to the discredit of any person, the rest shall admonish the offender; and this has entirely banished evil-speaking from among us. In the next place, we are careful, especially in the early part of the day, as at breakfast, to converse on nothing which is inconsistent with maintaining a prayerful frame. Christians, I believe, generally think they do pretty well if they pray twice a day; but I see not why we are not just as much commanded to pray without ceasing, as to pray at all. We sometimes, however, allow our minds a little relaxation at dinner, by conversing on other subjects than those which are strictly religious. At the beginning of evening, before the candles are brought in, if I am at home, which is not very often the case, we all sit down, and take a little tour up to heaven, and see what they are doing there. We try to figure to ourselves how they feel, and how we shall feel, and what we shall do; and often, while we are trying to imagine how they feel, our own feelings become more heavenly; and sometimes God is pleased to open to us a door in heaven, so that we get a glimpse of what is transacting there-and this fills us so full of impatience, that we can scarcely wait till death comes to carry us home. If we cannot get together before tea, for this purpose, we take a little time after prayers, before separating for the night; and, I assure you, it forms an excellent preparative for sweet sleep. But enough of this at present; if you like it, I will tell you more by and by." "FEB. 1811. A" We have been in great danger from fire. It was truly of the Lord's mercies, that we were not consumed, with a considerable part of the town. Just as the water began to fail, and all hopes were over, the fire abated. I was so much fatigued by over exertion in removing our things, that I was miserably unwell for a fortnight, but am now recovered. Some acknowledge the goodness of God in sparing the town; but others are dreadfully hardened. One poor creature, as soon as the fire was extinguished, cried out,'Well, we have got it out, but no thanks to Payson, nor God neither.' Another, after meeting, the ensuing Sabbath, observed, that he'did not like this giving all the glory to God; but that man ought to have, it least, some part of the glory of putting out the fire.' This 206 M E I R OF is, indeed, the natural language of every heart, but few like to express it so openly. "I fear that religion is on the decline among us. There is still, however, considerable attention, and we have had a few remarkable instances of conversion."' MARCH 1. Had a most violent headache, and was almost distracted; yet was obliged to preach in the evening. Found many more present than I expected, and was unusually assisted, and the people were very solemn. Most gladly will I glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me: for when I am weak, then I am strong." "PORTLAND, MARCH 25, 1811. "MY DEAR MOTHER: - Satan rages most violently against Christ's sheep, and I am almost constantly employed in trying to counsel and comfort them, under their manifold temptations. However, the more he rages, the faster they grow; though I have had serious fears respecting some of them, that they would lose life, or reason, or both. I now find why my gracious Master has suffered me to be so grievously tormented in times past. How miserably qualified should I otherwise have been to speak a word in season to them that are weary! Still 1, 1 I! nothing but I's-seven in half a page. Well, I don't care-i am writing to my mother, and I know she loves to hear about I; so I will proceed, and tell her about a half-sleeping, half-waking dream I had the other morning. If it does her as much good as it did me, it won't be paper lost. "After a curious kind of frame in sleep, I waked myself up, with exclaiming-' Lord, why is it that thou art never weary of heaping favors on ungrateful, perverse, stubborn wretches, who render thee only evil for good?' In a moment, he seemed to reply as powerfully as if he had spoken with an audible voice -' Because I am never weary of gratifying my dear Son, and showing the greatness of my love to him. Till I am weary of him, and cease to love him, I shall never be weary of heaping favors on his friends, however unworthy.' These words, it is true, contain nothing more than an obvious truth; but they conveyed more to my mind than all the books I ever read. If you meditate upon them, perhaps they may convey some EDWARD PAYSON. 207 thing to yours. What strong confidence are they suited to inspire, if we realize their full import! How will they encourage us to ask and expect great things, notwithstanding our inexpressible unworthiness! Never before did the scheme of redemption, and the great mystery of God manifest in the flesh, appear so great and glorious. While meditating upon it, I was wonderfully struck with a reason which never occurred to me before, why God permitted Adam to fall.' Had he stood, all his posterity would have been happy. He would, therefore, in one sense, have been their Saviour; and while they were enjoying the happiness of heaven, they would have exclaimed,'For all this we are indebted to our first parent.' This would have been too great an honor for any finite being. It would have tempted Adam to pride, and us to idolatry. The honor, therefore, was reserved for God's own Son, the second Adam. But perhaps this has occurred to you before; so I will not enlarge. "MAr. R. is still in miserable health. He will take a journey in the spring. If that does not help him, we shall think him irrecoverable. I fear he is too good to stay long on earth. "You must not, certainly, my dear mother, say one word, which even looks like an intimation that you think me advancing in grace. I cannot bear it. Every body here, whether friends or enemies, are conspiring to ruin me. Satan and my own heart, of course, will lend a hand; and if you join too, I fear all the cold water, which Christ can throw upon my pride, will not prevent it from breaking out into a destructive flame. As certainly as any body flatters and caresses me, my Father has to whip me for it; and an unspeakable mercy it is, that he condescends to do it. I can, it is true, easily muster a hundred. good reasons why I should not be proud; but pride won't mind reason, nor any thing else but a good drubbing. Even at this moment, I feel it tingling in my fingers' ends, and seeking to guide my pen." " APIIL 4. Spent the forenoon in writing. In the afternoon, attended the inquiry meeting, and was refreshed by seeing a number of new inquirers. The Spirit of God seemed to be present. In the evening, attended another, and found one who had obtained comfort. Came home exceedingly fatigued, but rejoicing in God. 208 MEMOIR OF " APRIL. Had some sense of my own weakness, and some longing desires that God would meet with us. Had a most solemn, joyful, and refreshing season, and trust it was highly profitable to the church, but was myself exceedingly overcome. "APRIL 6. Was exceedingly happy all day. Enjoyed the peace of God, which passeth understanding. "APRIL 8. Miserably weak, both in body and mind; an exceedingly wretched most of the day. The light of my soul was withdrawn from me. 0, what a miserable wretch am I, when Christ is absent! It is, however, necessary that he should sometimes withdraw; and I was enabled to realize that it was love, which induced him to hide his face, and I submitted to it without one murmuring thought." On the eighth of May, Mr. Payson was married to ANN LOUISA SHIPMAN, of New Haven, Connecticut,-a woman of kindred piety, and whose energy and firmness of character, connected with other estimable accomplishments, proved his best earthly support, and an abiding check upon his constitutional tendency to depression. Female affection and ingenuity could not have been better directed, or more signally honored and rewarded. In the acquisition of such a' help-meet," he justly considered himself as " having obtained favor of the Lord." It has been alleged, perhaps without sufficient reason, that ministers, as a class, are chargeable, beyond others, with failures in what relates to this most delicate and important connexion. The truth is, their errors of this kind attract more notice, and are more injurious. But the fact, that the peace and welfare of so many, as well as his own usefulness, are materially affected by the character of a pastor's wife, deserves the consideration of all who are still in a situation to profit by it. A chapter might be compiled from Mr. Payson's letters, which would be of great use to the clerical candidate for wedlock, who was anxious to know the best method of conducting the preliminary intercourse; but the favored object of his conjugal attachment still survives, and her right to the early avowals and precious testimonials of his faithful love is sole and exclusive. Still, an instructive exhibition of his views and of his practice may be made, without any indelicate infringement of this right. He wholly avoided those " entangling alliances," in early EDWARD PAYSON. 2009 youth, which have doomed many a man, either to take to his bosom one, whom, though once his equal, he had so far outstripped in the career of mental improvement, as to produce a most mortifying disparity, and preclude the hope of ever finding in his wife a companion fitted for rational intercourse;or else, to desert the confiding female, whose affections he had gained,-an alternative, too base for an honorable-minded man to adopt. Mr. Payson's circumspection is the more remarkable. when his ardent temperament is considered; and yet, as early as 1805, the following sober views are expressed in a letter to his sister: " When I was at home, I thought you appeared rather apprehensive, that I should form some connexion, which, to say the least, would be no help to my religious pursuits. But you may lay aside this fear. I have seen so much of my own proneness to turn aside, that it is, and I hope ever will be,'my resolution, not to fetter myself with any voluntary inducements to stray. Besides, I think no precept in the Bible is plainer than that which forbids us to yoke together with unbelievers. However, I think it probable enough, that this resolution may be the occasion of my dying a bachelor; but I am not at all anxious about it." When his purpose was fixed to live no longer " a bachelor," the course which he pursued revealed the source from which he always took his lessons. It was as closely conformed to scriptural example as that of any modern suitor,-having little more of formality than that of the patriarchs of the Old Testament. Still, he did not court in sackcloth, as is evident from a note, written on returning from his first visit, and addressed to his mother, whom, like a dutiful son, he had previously consulted: " EXETER, WED. EVE. " MY DEAREST MOTHER:-As I know the deep interest you take in everything which concerns your son, I will go no farther, before I inform you of the result of the business on which we conversed, while I was at home. I cannot, indeed, go into particulars; but it may be some gratification to you to know. that the business is concluded on, and nothing remains but to fix the wedding day. On this point alone we differed.,. - VOL. I. 27 210 MEMOI R OF "And now, my dearest mother, you must permit me to exult over you a little. When I used to talk of getting a wife without losing any time about it, you laughed at the idea, and thought it preposterous, impracticable, and absurd. But you see, that without going a mile purposely out of my way, or losing a single hour, I have found and courted, or rather Providence has found for me, a person, who bids fairer to render me happy than any other woman I have seen. It is true, many things may yet intervene to prevent the contemplated connexion; but humanly speaking, it will take place. And if it does not, I trust I shall be resigned, and feel satisfied that it is for the best. - -' At present, God seems to have made my way prosperous; and I am more than ever persuaded, that the best way to succeed in any of our temporal concerns, is to cast them upon him-have nothing to do with them-and devote ourselves entirely to the advancement of his cause. True, he only can excite us to adopt this course; but when he does, it is an almost infallible symptom of success." His mother must have held a pen of rare and various powers -as piquant in satire as it was judicious in counsel, and soothing in consolation. She might have thought him affectedly singular in his notions of matrimony, and directed her strokes accordingly. At any rate, he is seen smarting under her castigation, in the following letter, which, by the way, is a very serious one, and shows a heart alive to the danger of being diverted, by creature attachments, from the Lord of his affections:- "I am sorry you are never pleased with me, when I write on a certain subject. I fear this letter will appear as little pleasing as any of its predecessors. Since I wrote last, I have made another visit to A. Circumstances, which I could not foresee, rendered it indispensably necessary. I took care not to be absent either on Sabbath or lecture day; yet I felt very guilty in appropriating so much of my Master's time to my own use. A voice seemed continually sounding in my ears-' What dost thou here, Elijah' Had it not been for this, I verily believe Louisa and I should have taken a trip to Rindge. ~-' But the idea of forming new ties to bind myself to the world, is dreadful. I thought, at the time, that I sincerely.:ught divine direction; but I have since been afraid that I did ED WARD PAYSON. 211 hnt. H-towever, I know that the Lord reigns, and that he will take care of his glory; and this is enough for me. As to my happiness here, it ismnothing.' I neither expect any happiness, nor wish for any, separate from that which arises from serving and enjoying God. It is but a day, an hour, a moment, and all will be over. - "But, my dearest 3Mother, how could you write as you did respecting the views and feelingswhich my letter expressed? It was cruel to banter me so; at least, if any other persons of as long standing in religion as you, had written in such a manner, I should have been sure she was bantering me, and ridiculing my weakness. I shall be afraid to express my feelings again; and, indeed, I did not intend to do it then, but they ran away with me before I was aware. You talk of my heights and depths-Yes, I am deep, indeed, in guilt, and my iniquities are high as the heavens. These are all the heights and depths of which I know anything. Compared with old Christians, I am but a babe of yesterday; and joys, which to them would appear things of course, are sufficient to make my weak head run round. It was for this reason I thought my letter must appear a foolish rhapsody. But I will not say another word on the subject, lest you should suppose I am aping humility." The considerations by which he defended himself against the fear of possible disappointment, which some communication of his cautious parent was adapted to excite, are striking and fulll of interest. To estimate aright his indifference, as to the developments of the future, it should be remembered that the negotiation had already proceeded too far to render an honorable retreat optional with him. The pledge "for better or for worse," had been virtually interchanged; and the result, whether fruition or disappointment, he was determined should subserve his spiritual welfare:- "MY DEAREST MOTHER: — am very sorry you think me so heterodox in my notions respecting matrimony; but I cannot alter them. - *al Have I not the best possible security, that all things shall work together for my good. I shall certainly have a good wife, and be very happy with her, if God sees best; but if he sees a bad wife is a necessary trial for me, who am'i, that I should object? I should certainly feel very easy about 21-2 MEMOIR OF my present welfare, did it depend entirely on your good wisnes to render me happy. How much more reason, then, have I to be easy, since it depends on my Father and Saviour! If I wanted just such a world as this, for my own private accommodation, methinks I could go and ask it of my Saviour, just as freely as I would ask him for a straw. He who refused not his own blood, surely would not refuse me such a trifle as a world, which he could make with a word, if he saw that it was really necessary to my happiness. Why then should I feel the least possible anxiety about a wife? or waste my Master's time in seeking one?" A few short extracts will be sufficient to show the nature and manner of his intercourse with the friend to whom he was affianced:"- After all, we shall be just as much to each other as our Maker pleases. He can, and I trust will, render us as happy as it is best we should be in this life, and make us a blessing to each other. With his permission, I purpose to observe Friday, Dec. 7th, as a day of prayer for his blessing upon our union, should he permit it to take place. I trust your prayers will ascend with mine. "I was delighted with what you wrote respecting our precious and adorable Saviour. You cannot find a quicker and surer way to my heart, than by praising and loving him. H e, He is worthy, he is precious indeed. To the power, the majesty, the glory of God, he unites the gentleness, the tenderness, the sympathy of a friend and brother. This is just such a Saviour as we need. x =)tc -* * "I arrived last evening much fatigued. My journey, though quickly performed, was not unattended with danger. Owing to the weakness of the harness, or the carelessness of the driver, the horses ran away with us no less than three times, and were stopped only for want of power to proceed. For some minutes, we expected, every instant, to be dashed in pieces, and my fellow passengers were not a little frightened; but I knew that my heavenly Father held the reins, and felt unusually happy. EDWARD PAYSON. 213 "-It is a sufficient answer to your admonitions respecting mny health, to say, that it has rather improved than otherwise the year past; and shall I, then, distrust the power and goodness of God, and endeavor, by diminishing my labors, to lay up a stock of health for a future period, which, after all, I may never live to see? "I have suffered every conceivable kind of spiritual distress myself, and have seen too much of the good effects of it to be much grieved when I see others suffering the same. I know that Christ is with them in the furnace, and will bring them forth as gold; and, therefore, though I sympathize with them I am rather pleased than sorry to see them distressed... I have long considered a growing acquaintance with the desperate wickedness and surpassing deceitful-ness of the heart, as almost the only mark of a real Christian, which Satan cannot counterfeit." From a union, formed on such principles, the happiest results were to be expected. That gracious Being, whose blessing they had supplicated, more than answered their requests. On taking possession of the habitation prepared for their reception, they entered on their new condition as a separate family, with special acknowledgments of God. "In the evening," says the diary, "had a meeting by way of dedicating our house. It was a very solemn, melting season. Afterwards, was greatly favored in secret prayer. Knew not how to give over praying, the employment was so sweet. Could scarcely ask any thing for myself, but only that God might be glorified." —He lost no time in making his mother a partaker of his joy:"MY DEAREST MOTHER:-I must tell you how happy I am; happy, not because I have one of the best. of wives; not because I live in the midst of a grateful and affectionate people; not because I am surrounded by an abundance of the good things of this life; but because I enjoy God in all these things.' We went to house-keeping yesterday. I felt, in some measure, as I wished to feel on such an occasion. It was a blessed evening, and this has been a blessed morning.-My dearest mother, I must let my heart have vent. —All my days, I have 214 MEMO I R OF grieved, provoked, and dishonored God, and he has done nothing but heap favors, and pardons, and honors upon me. 0, it affects ime, to think of his goodness. 0 that all the world knew now vile I have been, and how good he has been in return. Could Christians know his dealings with such a wretch, they would surely never, never distrust him again. And yet I, who do know it, shall distrust him again. I shall again grieve and provoke him, as in times past, and perhaps, be left to bring a reproach upon religion. I never felt myself to be so much in danger as at this moment. I am happy in my own soul-happy in my external circumstances; but I rejoice with trembling. I dare not resolve that I will not suffer myself to be led away or lifted up. I dare not say, that, by to-morrow, I shall not feel stupid and ungrateful as a block; or even full of rage and enmity as a devil. But I never felt more able to hang upon Christ, and trust him to keep me up. He knows, I trust, it is my earnest desire to be stripped of all my blessings, and left utterly destitute, rather than be drawn by them away from him. "My people have been wonderfully kind. As soon as we got into our house, they sent us two cart-loads of provisions, &c. &c. including every article, however trifling, which could be wanted in a family. This was kind in them, but still more kind in my heavenly Father. 0, may I never forget, that, whoever may be the stream, He is the Fountain. "And now, my dearest mother, what more shall I say? You have nothing to wish for, nothing to pray for, as it respects your happy son, but that he may not be rendered slothful, or vain, or proud, by prosperity; that his love and zeal for his divine Master may increase with his mercies, and that he may be prepared for a day of adversity; for such a day must come. Well, let it come, if God so pleases. Welcome any thing that he sees fit to send. "'Notwithstanding your fears, I do not yet love my parents one whit less than before. It almost doubles my happiness to think of their sharing it." On his birth-day, next following this event, he writes:The past year has been one of the most important of my life. I. have seen much, very much of the goodness of God, and of EDWA RD PAYSON. 215 my own vileness. I have formed a connexion which will have an influence lasting as eternity, and I have reason to hope that the divine blessing has attended it." Two letters will here be introduced, whose dates would assign them a later place, but which are connected with the paragraphs just quoted, by the domestic nature of their contents. The second is from his mother, congratulating him upon the birth of his first-born, and must supply the place of his own reflections on that event; for at that time his diary is silent, and the letter which bore the tidings to his parents has not been preserved. "PORTLAND, JAN. 20, 1812.' MY DEAREST MOTHER: Were you with us to-day, you would see a strange mixture of joy and grief among us. Your letter to Grata, especially that part of it which relates to my brothers, gave us as much joy as we can ever expect to feel, in one day, while inhabitants of this changing world. It made our hearts leap within us to hear of poor Eben, or rather rich Eben, as I hope we may now call him. But there must always be a'but,' till we get to heaven-the same mail, that brought this welcome intelligence, brought a letter from New Haven, informing us of the death of Louisa's brother Henry. She is, of course, in great affliction, for she had little if any evidence that he was prepared for this event. I begin now to find, for the first time, that, by doubling myself, I have doubled my sorrows, and rendered myself a broader mark for the arrows of misfortune. However, I am content to meet with a few deductions from the happiness which wedlock affords. I should otherwise be almost too happy for my spiritual welfare. I am fully of your opinion, that marriage is a wonderfully wise and gracious institution, and shows, in a striking point of light, the goodness of our heavenly Father. I am also convinced, that, when properly managed, it is no less favorable to religion. You will think that I write like a newmarried man; and will, probably enough, conclude that, in a few years, I shall feel differently. It is very possible that I may; but hitherto my happiness has been continually increasing.: We are much more attached to each other than we were at firsth anc daily see new cause to admire the wisdom and goodness of him who fitted us for each other, and brought us together. I have, 216 MEMOIR OF I may almost say, more temporal mercies than I wish f6r, anc they are continually increasing; they come without asking; but neither by asking, nor in any other way, am I equally conscious of obtaining those spiritual blessings, which I wish for, and which seem indispensably necessary. However, I do not flatter myself that my present happiness will continue long. Perhaps a few weeks will deprive me of her, whose society constitutes so large a share of it. God's will be done. I trust that he has, in some measure, prepared me for such an event. I have viewed it in every possible point of light; and, so far as I can judge, feel willing, yes, blessed be his name! perfectly willing, that he should do what he will with his own. ~ - i We shall have your prayers, I doubt not. 0 how much am I already indebted to them! "I cannot close, without adverting again to the blessed change you mention in our family. Give my love to E. Charge H. and P. to'strive' as well as seek; to'repent' and pray —and not to pray first, in order to repent afterwards. And urge Eliza to follow the example of her brothers, and remember her Creator in the days of her youth.' MARCH, 27, 1S12. "MY EVER DEAR SON:-Your last was, indeed, fraught with precious tidings,-and we are now to view you and your dear Louisa, as sustaining a new, and very important relation in life. May gracious Heaven look with benignity upon this dear object of your mutual affections, and realize your best wishes in its behalf. Precious babe! already do I clasp it in my affections, and implore the blessing of Heaven upon it. Great is the fatigue, the care, the anxiety, of rearing a family; but if it is performed aright, it is a blessed work.-You have yet to learn how difficult the task, and how much patience, prudence, and grace, is requisite to qualify us to be faithful to the sacred trust deposited in our keeping. Yet, for your encouragement, and as a debt of gratitude due to our most gracious Parent, I freely acknowledge myself amply compensated for all I have ever suffered or done for my Edward. Alas! I have been exceedingly deficient in my duty to my children; but with what ineffable goodness has God pardoned my unfaithfulness, and noticed every sincere attempt to discharge, in any measure, the important duties of a EDWARD PAYSON. 217 mother, and, in some instances, done more for them than I ever thought orasked. May he enable you to receive this little one from his gracious hands, and, as he recqires, bring it up for him. You were very kind to write me so soon; it was a proof of affection, for which my heart thanks you-but wve are looking impatiently for another letter. "Your good father" put on one of his best smiles, upon hearing he was a grandfather.' Ah' he says,' what is it? a son, or a daughter' with other inquiries. He smiled when he read-'babe made the house ring;' and observed, you would not want for music of that kind, he supposed. He is in very good health, and now attending a conference in a remote part of the town. x >, -' " May you be guided safely amidst the innumerable snares which await our every step, and your path, like the rising light, shine more and more unto the perfect day. T slls prays " YOUR AFFECTIONATE MOTHER.7 in December, 1811, the sole care of the church and parish devolved on him, in consequence of the dissolution of the senior pastor's relation to the church, agreeably to the advice of council mutually called. An event of this kind is usually of all-absorbing interest to a people, and seldom fails to divert attention from the important concern of personal religion. But such does not appear to have been the effect, in the present case, to any very lamentable * The flther of Mr. Payson, though he appears less prominent in this Memoir than his mother, was, nevertheless, deservedly ranked among the first men in New Hampshire. Indeed, he stood high in the confidence of the religious public throughout New England; and his counsel and active exerlions were much employed in promoting the general interests of literature and religion. In furtherance of these, he made several long journeys on horseback; once or twice as far as Philadelphia, on business for Dartmouth College, of which he was one of the Trustees. He was also a member of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, as was his son after him. His various public engagements, in addition to his pastoral duties, so engrossed his time, that the family correspondence devolved almost entirely on Mrs. Payson, who held " the pen of a ready writer. " It was unavoidable, therefore, that in a memoir, made up in part of epistolary correspondence, the mother should occupy the more conspicuous place. VOL. I. 28 218. IMEM OIR OF extent-the accession to the church, this year, being thirtynine, and the subsequent year, considerably greater than any preceding. He closed the labors of this year with a most seasonable discourse from 2 Cor. iv. 13, "We also believe, and therefore speak;" in which he attempted to state the principal doctrines which Paul professed to believe-to show that he did actually believe them-that he had sufficient reasons to believe them-and that his belief necessarily led him to preach and conduct in the manner he did. The sermon is a happy exemplification of ministerial address and of ministerial faithfulness. He could not have taken a more unexceptionable method of presenting his own views, than by exhibiting what Paul believed and taught; nor more completely have justified the earnestness with hllich lie pressed then upon his hearers, than by bringing into view the momentous interests which they involve. To those who are familiar with the epistles of Paul, it is hardly necessary to say, that his sketch asserts the fall of man, and the consequent universal depravity of the human race: and the other doctrines, peculiar to the Christian system, which necessarily result from this, respecting the personal glories and mediatorial offices of Christ, and the way of a sinner's justification and acceptance with God. It was a popular and useful defence of evangelical doctrines, and of ministerial zeal, and was applied to the auditory with pungent force. His diary, during this year, authorizes some inferences besides that of his spirituality and devotion to his work. A few short extracts of each kind will form an appropriate conclusion to the chapter:-'JULY 17. Heard much, to-day, of the rage of opposers: found others much discouraged by it. Was driven by it to the throne of grace, and there found unusual enlargement in pleading for the effusion of the Spirit. Never felt more drawn out in prayer for this, and could not help hoping that he would espouse our cause. Was deeply affected with the sovereign goodness of God. "AUG. O, what a privilege it would be to have strength to labor all the time for God. "SEPT. 24, 25. Was called up at midnight by some mischievous person, and sent off to see a person said to be dying. EDWARD PAYSON. 219.. Found it a serious joke to me, for I took cold, and was sick several days. " SEPT 29. Had a most refreshing season, this morning, in prayer. Felt most intense hatred of sin, and desired to be free &om its power. " OCT. 5. Have been abundantly convinced, to-day, that it is not a vain thing to call upon God. Was remarkably assisted in preparing for to-morrow. In the evening, was favored with an uncommonly precious season in prayer. 0, how different does every thing appear, when God is present! He is indeed all in all to me. " OCT. 8. Enjoyed a most delightful season in prayer. Had such strong confidence in God, from a view of his willingness to give, that I felt ready to ask and expect every thing in his power to bestow. Knew not how to stop, till I was utterly exhausted. "OCT. 10. Had some different views of Christ and heaven from any I ever before enjoyed, so that I felt the fullest assarance of salvation, and wished to be saved, that I might praise and love God perfectly. " OCT. 22. Was enabled to cast all my cares on the Lord, and felt lightened. Never did the Bible seem so sweet, never did the light of God's countenance seem so exquisitely precious as now; nor did I ever more need it. " OCT. 24. In the course of the day, saw an Indian. Was instantly struck, and much affected with a sense of his wretched condition. Never had such feelings before. In the evening, had great freedom in praying for poor savages and others, who are destitute of the light of the gospel. " Nov. 7. Felt a little revived. Set up, a little prayer meeting in my family, for a revival, and had some liberty. "Nov. 28. Had a most refreshing and delightful season in prayer this morning. Felt something of the life and poer of religion through the day. In the evening, preached,.. and was uncommonly assisted, and the people appeared much affected. Felt much gratitude to God for his assistance, and much encouraged respecting a revival.' CHAPTER XIII. Forms of prayer -Thoughts on public prayer- His sincerity- The importance of this quality to a minister's success. " You would greatly oblige me by loaning me a copy of your prayer to-day," said a distinguished lady to Dr. Payson, as he was retiring from the house of worship on a memorable occasion. She was surprised on being told that it had vanished with the breath which gave it utterance. This lady was not an attendant on his ministry, but had come, at this time, with the expectation of seeing La Fayette in the assembly, and, in common with many others, was filled with admiration of the intercessory part of the exercises, as differing from all she had ever heard, in richness and appropriateness of matter, as well as in fervor of utterance. Few, it is believed, ever heard him, for the first time, even in the family or on the most common occasion, without experiencing kindred emotions. The wonder, too, was enhanced, rather than diminished, by every repetition of the exercise. To those whose devotions he led for twenty years, in the sanctuary, in the conference room, by the sick bed, at festivals, and funerals, every prayer seemed to have all the freshi ss of originality. His resources for this duty appeared to be absolutely inexhaustible. There was something in his prayers powerful to arrest and fix attention-something which seized and absorbed the faculties of the soul, and separated it, for the time being, at least, from its connexions with "this present evil world." The full, deep, reverent, flexible, suppliant tones of his voice, as far removed from the cant of the EDWARD PAYSON. 221 fanatic as they were from the levity of the witling, contributed something to the effect of his public devotions. The question has been asked, by more than one distinguished minister, since Dr. Payson's death, whether he left behind him any written forms of prayer. So far from this, it is believed he never wrote a prayer. There are, indeed, interspersed throughout his private writings and sermons, numerous ejuculations and supplicatory paragraphs; but nothing intended exclusively as a prayer. His " Confession and Form of Covenant," in a preceding chapter, bears the nearest resemblance to a prayer, of any thing which has been discovered from his pen, and will give a better idea, than any description, of the leading impressions which his prayers produced on the hearers, namely, the infinite disparity which exists between God and the creature, at the same time that it brings to view numerous particulars in which this contrast may be seen.'" God is in heaven, and we upon earth," was the great truth which stood forth with distinguished prominence in his invocations, confessions, pleadings, intercessions, and ascriptions. " God is in this place," was a truth not less vividly impressed on the minds of his auditors when he poured out his soul in prayer. They saw, they felt, that he pleaded with a present God. His prayers conformed, with singular felicity, to his own definition of the exercise, which makes it' a kind of devout poetry, the whole subject matter of which is furnished by the heart; and the understanding is only allowed to shape and arrange the effusions of the heart in the manner best adapted to honor the Being to whom prayer is addressed, and to excite and direct the devotional feelings of his worshippers." But a thousand forms, of his prayers even, could never teach another to pray like him. He neither found for himself, nor could he mark out for others, a " royal road " to the throne of grace; and the " gift of prayer," for which he was so eminent, was not attained without corresponding efforts on his part. It was by his daily retired practice, that he became so skilful and prevailing a pleader with his God. There can be no doubt on this point. His journal, through several successive years, records repeated seasons of prayer for almost every day, together with the stateof his affections, and the exercise or want of those graces which constitute the " spirit of supplica 222 MEMOIR OF tion." It requires much of a devotional spirit even to read these perpetually recurring descriptions of his " wrestling in prayer," of his " near access to the mercy-seat," as well as of those difficulties which sometimes barred his approach for, to an undevout mind, they would present nothing but a wearisome, disgusting, endless monotony. When the inventive character of his mind is considered, its exquisite delight in every thing that was original, these records exhibit the most infallible vridence of his love for devotion. His continuing instant in prayer, be his circumstances what they might) is the most noticeable fact in his history, and points out the duty of all who'would rival his eminency. There is no magic about it. "The arrow that would pierce the clouds must go from the nerved arm and the bent bow." But if prayer, to be successful, must be ardent, so must it be not fitful, but habitual. If, however, he has not left a form, he has, happily, left some thoughts on public prayer, which will be of greater value, especially to ministers of the gospel; and, as in his practice he illustrated his own instructions, a stranger to him may obtain from them a better knowledge of his manner, than from any description of it by another hand. "What are the principal excellencies which should be cultivated, and the defects which should be avoided, by ministers of the gospel, in the performance of their public devotional exercises? The excellence of any performance consists in its being adapted to answer the end for which it is designed. So far as it is not adapted to answer that end, it must be considered defective. The design of public prayer, considered as a part of ministerial duty, is to honor the being to whom it is addressed, and to excite and direct the devotional feelings of his worshippers. These two objects, though distinct, are inseparably connected, and are to be attained by the same means; for it will ever be found, that that mode of performing the duty of public prayer, which is best adapted to promote the honor of God, is best calculated to excite and direct the devotional feelings of the hearers. That our devotional performances may secure the attainment of these united objects, they must be the echo of a fervently pious heart, guided by a judicious and enlightened mind, to the voice of God, as uttered in his works and his word. An expres EDWARD PAYSON. 223 sion of the psalmist will illustrate my meaning:-' When thou saidst, Seek ye my face, my heart said unto thee, Thy face, Lord, will I seek.' In a similar manner should our public addresses to God be the echo of his language to us. Our adorations and ascriptions of praise should thus respond to what he has revealed of his natural and moral perfections; our confessions, to the charges which he has preferred against us, and to the punishments with which he threatens us; our petitions and intercessions, to his commands, hIis promises, and the description. he has given of our own wants. and those of our fellow-creatures; and our thanksgivings, to the favors which he has bestowed on ourselves, our countrymen, and our race. When our devotional performances thus echo back the voice of God, we cannot fail to promote both his glory, and the edification of our people. We then follow a guide which cannot mislead us; we express the very feelings which his language to us is designed and calculated to excite; we set our seal to the truth of his declarations, say Amen to all that he has seen fit to reveal to us, and teach our hearers to do the same. Thus, while we avoid the too common fault of preaching in prayer, our prayers will preach, and prove no less instructive than our sermons. We shall, at the same time, excite them to pray, and teach them how to pray. While we speak as the mouth of our people to God, we shall, in an indirect, but most impressive manner, be the mouth ot God to our people, and set before them their duty, as it respects both faith and practice, in a way least calculated to offend, and in those solemn moments when the exhibition of truth is most likely to affect them. "If the preceding remarks be just, it will be easy to infer from them what are the principal faults which should be avoided by us in leading the devotions of our hearers. "In the first place, I conceive that our devotional performances are too often the language of the understanding, rather than of the heart. It has been observed that they should be the echo of a fervently-pious heart, guided by an enlightened understanding, to the voice of God. It is not, perhaps, uncandid to remark, that our expressions, in public prayer, are not always guided by an enlightened understanding; but still less frequently, probably, are they the echo of a fervently pious heart to the voice of God. They too often consist, almost en 224 E MIO 01 OF tirely; of passages of Scripture-not always judiciously chosen, or well arranged —and common-place phrases, which have been transmitted down, for ages, from one generation of ministers to another, selected and put together just as we would com1.pose a sermon or essay, while the heart is allowred no share in the performance; so that we may more properly be said to nmake a prayer, than to pray. The consequence is, that our devotional performances are too often cold and spiritless: as the heart did not assist in composing, it disdains to aid in uttering them. Trley have allost as much of a form, as if we mlade use of a liturgy; while the peculiar excellences of a liturvg are wanting. Our hearers soon become familiarized to our expressionls, and not unfrequently learn to anticipate themi; and, though they may possibly be instructed, their devotional feelings are not excited. " That public prayer may produce its proper and designed effects upon their hearts, it should be, if I may so express it, a kind of devout poetry. As in poetry, so in prayer, the whole subject matter should be furnished by the heart; and the understanding should be allowed only to shape and arrange the efftusions of the heart in the manner best adapted to answer the end designed. From the fulness of a heart overflowing with holy affections, as from a copious fountain, we should pour forth a torrent of pious, humble, and ardently affectionate feelings; while our understandings only shape the channel, and teach the gushing streams of devotion where to flow, and when to stop. In such a prayer, every pious heart among our hearers will join. They will hear a voice and utterance given to their own feelings. They will hear their own desires and emotions expressed more fully and perspicuously than they could express them themselves. Their hearts will spring forward to meet and unite with. the heart of the speaker. The well of water, which our Saviour assures us is in all who drink of his Spirit, will rise, and burst its way through the rubbish of wordly cares and affections, which too often choke it; and the stream of devotion, from many hearts, will unite, and flow on, in one broad tide, to the throne of Jehovah; while, with one mind and one mouth, minister and people glorify God. Such was the prayer of Ezra, and such itl effects:-' And Ezra blessed the Lord, the great G'od. And all the people answered, Amen, amen, with lifting EDWARD PAYS ON. 225 up of their hands; and they bowed their heads, and worshipped the Lord with their faces toward the ground.' " Leading the devotion of our people in this manner will preserve us from another fault, less important, indeed, but not less common than that which has just been mentioned, and which, in part, is occasioned by it. It consists in uttering the different parts of prayer in the same tone. When our prayers are the language of the understanding only, this will always be done; but not so when they flow from the heart. No person need be informed, that, in our intercourse with each other, a different modification of the voice is employed to express every different emotion of the heart. No one would expect to hear a condemned malefactor plead for his life, and return thanks for a pardon, in the same tone. And why is it not equally unnatural for sinful beings, condemned to eternal death, to plead for pardon, and return thanks for its bestowal, in the same tone? Yet how often is this done! How often do we hear prayers flow on, from the commencement to the close, in the same uniform tone, with scarcely a perceptible inflection of the voice! Yet no two things can differ more widely than the feelings which are expressed in different parts of the same prayer. Surely, then, a corresponding difference ought to be perceived in the modifications of the voice. In every other public expression of our feelings, such a difference is expected and required. The effect of the most eloquent composition would be greatly impaired, not to say wholly destroyed, by a delivery perfectly monotonous. The effects of the same cause upon devotional performances will be similar. Where no fervency of feeling is indicated, it will usually be found that none is excited; and, since one principal design of public prayer is to excite the devotional feelings of the hearers, it is evident that a fault which so powerfully tends to defeat this design cannot be a fault of trifling consequence. I am, however, aware, that in attempting to avoid this fault, the exercise of great care, and of much judgment and good taste, is requisite to preserve us from an affected or theatrical manner, which is a fault much more to be deprecated. Still, I conceive that when we feel as we ought, we shall find no difficulty or danger in this respect. Our hearts will then, without any effort on our part, insensibly teach us to express its emotions in a corresponding tone, and in the manner VOL. i. 29 226. M M IEMOIR OF best adapted to excite similar feelings in the breasts of our hearers. But, if our devotional feelings are habitually languid, if our hearts do not teach our lips, it is, perhaps, advisable to aim at nothing beyond a monotonous solemnity, rather than, by affecting what we do not feel, to incur the certain displeasure of our Master, and the probable contempt of ouir most judicious hearers. If we have no thoughts or feelings that glow, it is worse than useless to affect' words that burn.' "'Another fault, which is not unfrequently found in our devotional performances, I know not how to describe better than by saying that it consists in praying more like an awakened, but still impenitent, sinner, or more as such a character might be supposed to pray, than like a real Christian. Different causes, probably, tend to the adoption of this method. Some are apparently led to it by doubts respecting their own character. They often suspect that they are not truly pious, and therefore fear to utter the language of a pious heart. Others seem to adopt it in consequence of false humility. They fear it would be thought indicative of pride, should they use expressions which intimate that they think themselves to be the real disciples of Christ. A third class probably adopt this method with a view to offer prayers in which awakened, but still impenitent, sinners may join. But, whatever may be the motives which lead to the adoption of such a method, it is, I conceive, a fault w-hich ought to be avoided. It is, indeed, a common, and, with some limitation, a just remark, that a minister is the mouth of his people to God. It is, however, of the pious part of his congregation, only, that he is the mouth. His prayer, then, should be the echo, not of an impenitent, but of a pious heart, to the voice of God. He should pray with those who are pious, and for those who are not so. Instead of praying that himself, and those who unite with him, may exercise the feelings of a Christian, he should explicitly express those feelings. This is necessary for his own sake, if he be truly pious; for, if he be so, he cannot sincerely utter the language of an impenitent heart. It is necessary for the sake of his pious hearers; for, while he is attempting to form a prayer in which all may join, he will utter many expressions in which they cannot unite. It is also necessary even for the sake of his impenitent hearers; for it is highly important for them to be convinced that they do not, and, with EDWARD PAYSON. 227 their present feelings, cannot pray; and nothing will tend more effectually to convince them of this important truth, than listening to prayers in which truly pious feelings and holy exercises are distinctly expressed. For similar reasons, it is desirable that we should not always pray in a manner suited only to inexperienced, weak, or declining Christians. Instead of descending to their standard, we must endeavor to raise them to ours. If we wish our people to feel dissatisfied with their present attainments, and to become eminent Christians, we must accustom them to hear the devotional language of eminent Christians, by uttering such language in our prayers, if, indeed, we can do it without uttering what we do not feel. As an eagle tempts her young to soar higher than they would dare to do were they not encouraged by her example, so the minister of Christ should, occasionally at least, allure his people to the higher region of devotion, by taking a bolder flight than usual, and uttering the language of strong faith, ardent love, unshaken confidence, assured hope, and rapturous gratitude, admiration, and joy. Some of his hearers can, probably, at all times, follow him, and many others who at first tremble and hesitate; many, who would scarcely dare adopt the same language in their closets, will gradually catch the sacred flame; their hearts will burn within them. While their pastor leads the way, they will mount up, as on eagles' wings, toward heaven, and return from the house of prayer, not cold and languid, as they entered, but glowing with the fires of devotion. In this, as well as in other respects, it will, in some measure, be,'like people, like priest.' If we thus strike the golden harp of devotion, we shall soon find our pious hearers able to accompany us through its whole compass of sound, from the low notes of humble, penitential sorrow, up to the high, heart-thrilling tones of rapturous joy, admiration, love, and praise, which are in union with the harps of the redeemed before the throne. Another fault, sometimes found in devotional performances which are otherwise unexceptionable, is the want of sufficicnt particularity. Indeed, most of our public prayers, are too general. They bring so much into view, that nothing is seen distinctly. It is well known, that, if we except sublime and terrible objects, nothing affects the mind, unless it be clearly and distinctly perceived. If the most admired descriptive poems, 228 / MEMOIR OF and those which produce the greatest effect upon our feelings, be carefully examined, it will be found that they derive their power to affect us almost entirely from a minute and striking description of a few judiciously-selected particulars. It is the same with our devotional performances. We may praise God, or confess sin, or pray for mercy, or return thanks for divine favor, in a general way, without being ourselves affected, and without exciting the affections of our hearers. But when we descend to particulars, the effect is different. The mind receives, drop after drop, till it is full. We should, therefore, aim at as great a degree of particularity, as the time allotted us, and the variety of topics on which we must touch, will allow. Especially is it important, that we enter deeply and particularly into every part of Christian experience, and lay open all tile minute ramifications, and almost imperceptible workings of the pious heart, in its various situations, and thus show our hearers to themselves in every point of view. In a word, our public prayers should resemble, as nearly as propriety will allow, the breathings of an humble, judicious, and fervently-pious Christian, in his private devotions. The prayer of the pulpit differs too much-it should differ as little as possible-from the prayer of the closet. A neglect, in this particular, often renders our performances uninteresting and unacceptable to those whom we should most desire to gratify. "Such, I conceive, are the principal defects, which are most frequently found in our devotional performances. It is obvious, that they are all occasioned, either wholly or in part, by a languid state of devotional feeling; and that the only effectual remedy is to be sought in the diligent cultivation of a frame of temper habitually devout. That a minister may lead the devotions of his people in the most suitable and edifying manner, it seems indispensable that he should possess a mind deeply imbued with divine truth; a mind, into tie very frame and texture of which the doctrines of revelation are wrought; and a heart thoroughly broken and humbled for sin, and tremblingly alive to the voice of God, and ever glowing with celestial fire. He, who, with such a mind and such a heart, lives much in his closet, praying, as the apostle expresses it, in the Holy Ghost, and habitually imploring his assistance to help his infirmities, will always lead the devotions of his people in a judi EDWARD PAYSON. 229 cious, edifying, and acceptable manner; nor will he need the aid of a precomposed form. In his prayers, as well as in his sermons, he will constantly bring out of his treasury things new and old. But if our hearts will not pray, or teach us in what manner to cry to our heavenly Father and Redeemer, our understandings must; and we must either compose or borrow forms for that purpose. How far, in this case, we can be considered as called to the work of the ministry, or fitted for it, is not for me to say; but, surely, he who can contemplate the wonders of creation, and yet find nothing to say to his Maker; still more, he who can meditate on the mysteries of redeeming love, and behold the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, without feeling praises ready to burst spontaneously from his lips, has some reason to fear that he possesses little of the spirit of heaven, and that he has never learned that new song, which none can learn but those who are redeemed from the earth; for, with reference to this subject, it may be emphatically said, in the words of inspiration,'the heart of the wise teacheth his mouth, and addeth learning to his lips.'" Such public prayers as he offered were singularly adapted to affect the minds of an assembly, and prepare them for the reception of religious truths, besides being the appointed means of obtaining the influences of the Holy Spirit, "to render the word effectual to salvation." To his ardent and persevering prayers must, no doubt, be ascribed, in a great measure, his distinguished and almost uninterrupted success; and, next to these, the undoubted sincerity of his belief in the truths which he inculcated. His language, his conversation, and whole deportment, were such as brought home and fastened on the minds of his hearers the conviction that he "believed, and therefore spoke." So important did he regard such a conviction in the attendants on the ministry, that he made it the topic of one of his addresses to his clerical brethren; and most of his remarks on this subject will here be introduced, as disclosing one of those great principles which formed the basis of his ministerial character. 230 MEMOIR OF "The importance of convincing our hearers that we believe what we preaclh and the means necessary to produce such a conviction in their minds. "The importance of convincing our hearers that we firmiy believe the truths which we inculcate, and that by this belief we are habitually actuated in our conduct, as men and as ministers, will appear sufficiently evident from the fact, that, on their feeling such a conviction, the success of our labors among them very much depends. That this is a fact, will not, it is presumed, be denied. When expressing a belief that it is so, however, I am far from intending to assert, that a conviction of a minister's sincerity in the minds of his hearers is inseparably connected with ministerial success. I would not, even for a moment, forget that, after every human exertion possible has been made, the smallest success is owing entirely to the blessing of God; nor that he bestows this blessing as he pleases, in a sovereign way. I am also fully aware of the fact, that many faithful ministers of Christ, who have exhibited the strongest evidence, and produced in the minds of their hearers the fullest conviction of their sincerity, have been favored with this blessing but in a very small degree; while not a few of questionable sincerity, to say the least, have apparently been made instrumental of extensive good. "Still, though I would by no means estimate a minister's fidelity by his apparent success, I must consider it as a truth, to which all will readily assent, that, generally speaking, no minister can reasonably expect his labors to be successful, whose life does not exhibit evidence of his sincerity; whose hearers are not convinced that he believes the message which he delivers. It is too evident to require proof, that, without such a conviction, our hearers will not even respect us as men. Insincerity is a vice, which, however men may tolerate it in themselves, they universally agree to despise and condemn in others; and never do they reprobate it more severely, or more justly, than when it is found in those who minister at the altar of God. If, then, our hearers suspect that we are guilty of it; if they suppose that we attend to our profession merely as a profession, and inculcate doctrines on them which we do not ourselves believe, they will assuredly consider us as mercenary hypocrites, who sacrilegiously profane things most sacred, sacrifice to vanity, or EDWARD PAYSON. 231 avarice, on the altar of God, employ the cross of Christ as a ladder for ambition, and consequently deserve to be regarded only with abhorrence and contempt. That the existence of such suspicions in their minds must most powerfully tend to prevent the success of our labors, it is needless to remark. "And as, while our hearers entertain such suspicions, they will despise us as men, much more will they disregard us in our official character, as the ambassadors of Christ.'Physician, heal thyself,' will be their secret, if not open reply to all our admonitions, instructions, and reproofs. With what apparent attention soever they may be induced by worldly motives to treat our ministrations, many of them will be gradually led to consider the services of the sanctuary as a kind of solemn farce, designed to impose on the weak and ignorant, in which we are called by our profession to act the principal part; a part which requires us to utter things which, as we appear not to believe them ourselves, they will feel themselves under no obligation to believe or obey. " The well known and often quoted maxim of the poet, Si vis me flere, dolendum est Prirnum ipsi tibi is, with a slight variation, peculiarly applicable to the ministers of Christ. If they wish their hearers to believe and be affected by the truth which they deliver, they must first appear, at least, to believe and be affected by it themselves. In vain will they declare, from the pulpit, that God is in this place, and inculcate the necessity of worshipping him with reverence and godly fear, while their demeanor affords reason to suspect, that they are themselves totally unconscious of his presence. In vain will they teach that men are entirely guilty and depraved, while they appear either not to know, or to habitually forget, that they are by nature children of wrath, even as others. In vain will they preach Christ crucified, while their hearers cannot take knowledge of them that they have been with Jesus, and they appear to know him only by name. In vain will they, like Noah, that preacher of righteousness, warn mankind of an approaching flood, and urge them to fly from the wrath to come, while their people imagine that they are not, like Noah, prepar 232 MEMOIR OF ing an ark for their own salvation. In vain will they forbid their hearers to lay up treasure on earth, while their own conduct excites a suspicion that they mind earthly things; and in vain will they inculcate heavenly-mindedness, or expatiate on the joys above, the worth of the soul, and the solemn realities of the eternal world, while their lives produce no conviction in the minds of their people, that they are actuated by that faith which is the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen.'In vain,' says a celebrated French prelate,'do we preach to our hearers. Our lives, of which they are witnesses, are, with the generality of men, the gospel; it is not what we declare in the house of God; it is what they see us practise in our general demeanor. They look upon the public ministry as a stage designed for the display of exalted principles, beyond the reach of human weakness; but they consider our life as the reality by which they are to be directed.' "But it is saying too little, to assert, that while suspicions are generally entertained of a minister's sincerity, no beneficial effects can reasonably be expected to result from his labors. In almost every instance, they will probably be found to produce effects positively mischievous. His unbelief, whether real or supposed, will ever be urged by his hearers in vindication of their own. If he, they will say, whose profession leads him to study the Scriptures, and who is, consequently, well acquainted with all the evidence in their favor, does not sincerely believe their contents, why should we? In addition to this, the contempt with which he will be regarded, as a man and as a minister, will insensibly extend, in a greater or less degree, to the truths which he preaches, and to the religion whose minister he professedly is. Many of his hearers will be gradually led to a conclusion, to which men are of themselves sufficiently prone, that all other ministers, in past and present ages, resemble their own, and that Christianity is a system of priestcraft and delusion, invented by designing men for their own benefit, and intended to keep the ignorant, weak, and credulous in awe. " Or, should they not, as will doubtless in many instances be the case, think thus of Christianity itself, they will at least form such an opinion of the order and denomination to which we belong, and be, consequently, led to seek among other sects, and even wild enthusiasts, for that religious zeal and sincerity which EDWARD PAYSON. 233 they know ought to be found in all the ministers of Christ, but which they imagihe is not to be found in us. And while many of our hearers will thus be led into error or speculative infidelity, a large proportion of those who remain will infallibly become practical infidels, our settle down contented with a meager form of godliness, in perfect ignorance of its transforming, life-giving power. It is in vain to evade the force of these obvious truths, by urging the acknowledged maxim, that the Bible is the only rule of faith and practice; that to this alone men ought to look, and that they are entirely inexcusable in thusconfounding religion with the conduct of its ministers, and, for the faults of one, condemning the other. We readily allow that they are so. But still, as has been often remarked, we must take men as they are, not as they ought to be; and to the plea just mentioned, it is a sufficient reply, that the principle of association in the human mind powerfully tends to produce the effects here alluded to; and that such, in part, ever have been the effects of apparent insincerity in the ministers of Christ. We are far, however, from asserting or supposing, that such effects may not arise from other causes; or that the prevalence of vice and error among a people necessarily proves that their minister is unfaithful or insincere. We know that prejudice often renders men blind to the plainest and most unequivocal proofs of sincerity. We know that men are naturally opposed to divine truth, and prone to hate those who press it upon them with plainness and fidelity. We are also aware, that many of our hearers scan our conduct with a critical and malignant eye, and are eager to discover something in us, which may furnish an excuse for their own errors, and justify them in asserting that we do not believe what we preach. But it cannot escape your notice, my fathers and brethren, that these dispositions, while they render it in some cases exceedingly difficult to convince men of our sincerity, afford also most powerful reasons why we should make the attempt. If they are thus prone to suspect the reality of our belief, we must be careful to afford them no real or apparent cause for suspicion. If they scan our conduct with a critical and malignant eye, we must give double diligence to render it irreproachable. And if they naturally hate those truths which duty requires us to preach, it becomes us to see that their hatred derives no excuse or palliation from our temper or practice. VOL. I. 30 234 MEMOIR OF They must, if possible, be constrained to feel a conviction, that, in declaring these offensive truths, we are actuated, not by mercenary views, nor by bigotry, moroseness, or severity of temper, but by an imperious sense of duty, and by a tender, deep, and unfeigned concern for the glory of God, and the salvation of their souls; that we are not marking out one path for them, and another for ourselves, but that we watch for their souls as those who know that they must give an account; and that we habitually and uniformly seek, not their wealth, their applause, their friendship, but their salvation. That it is possible, in most instances, to produce and maintain this conviction in the minds of lmen, is evident from facts. That the first preachers of the gospel succeeded in doing it, cannot be denied. While they were accused of almost every other crime, they seem never to have been even suspected of insincerity. They could say publicly, without fear of contradiction,-for they knew that their whole conduct, and even the consciences of their enemies, bore testimony to the truth of their assertions,-' We believe, and therefore speak.''Knowing the terrors of the Lord, we persuade men.''If we be beside ourselves, it is to God; and if we be sober, it is for your cause; for we seek not yours, but you; and we will gladly spend and be spent for you, though, the more abundantly we love you, the less we be loved. As of sincerity, as of God, in the sight of God, speak we in Christ. For we are manifest unto God, and we trust also, are manifest in your consciences.'' But the situation of things, at the present day, is somewhat different. While we are seldom charged with other faults, we are not unfrequently suspected, and even accused, of insincerity; of not really believing what we preach. It is a melancholy fact, that multitudes among us appear to consider the ministry merely as a profession, and to suppose that we preach the gospel only because it is, in the view of men, a professional duty. They seem not to imagine that we expect, or even wish, that they should believe the message which we bring. To account for this melancholy fact, is no part of my present design. Whether it is owing to the bold assertions of our enemies, to the prevalence of sectarism and infidelity, or to something in our own conduct, is not for me to determine; but certain it is, that ministers of our denomination are, by very many, regarded as EDWARD PAYSON. 235 mercenary hirelings, who' prophesy for reward, and divine for money.' Surely, then, it becomes us, my fathers and brethren, to do every thing in our power to remove these injurious impressions, and to convince both our hearers and others, that, like the apostles, we believe, and therefore speak. " The means necessary for the production of this effect will next demand our attention. "What means are necessary for this purpose we may learn in two different ways. " We may learn them from a careful attention to the conduct of the first preachers of Christianity. That they succeeded in convincing men of their sincerity, we have already seen. And since, in similar circumstances, the same causes ever produce similar effects, we may reasonably hope, by imitating their example, to produce a similar conviction in the minds of our hearers. " The means necessary for this purpose may be inferred, also, from a consideration of the nature and effects of faith, as described by the inspired writers. They inform us, that it is'the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen.' It enables those who possess it' to endure, as seeing him who is invisible.' It gives unseen things a substance, a reality, an existence in the mind. It does, as it were, clothe them with a body, and thus leads those who possess it to feel and act, in some measure, as they would (lo, were the objects of faith made visible; were God and Christ, and heaven and hell, rendered objects of sense. If, then, we would convince our hearers that we possess this faith, we must conduct in a similar manner. In other words, we must imitate the temper and conduct of the apostles; for it will appear, on a moment's reflection, that these different methods of ascertaining the means necessary to convince men of our sincerity lead to precisely the same result. " A general idea of the manner in which a minister would conduct, to whom the great objects of faith were rendered visible, may easily be formed. He would feel, that God is all in all, that his favor is the one thing needful, that his displeasure is the only thing dreadful, and that, to a minister, nothing, comparatively speaking, is worth knowing or making known, but Jesus Christ and him crucified. He would feel, that the temporal happiness of kingdoms, and even of worlds, is noth 236 M E MOI OF ing, in comparison with the salvation of a single soul. With such feelings his conduct would correspond. While he conterlplated the broad road, with the multitudes who throng it, and the destruction in which it ends, his compassion, grief, and zeal, would be most powerfully excited, and lead him to make every possible exertion to snatch his hearers as brands from the burning.' Knowing the terrors of the Lord, he would persuade men.' In the performance of this duty, he would be instant in season, and out of season, and preach the word, not only publicly in the house of God, but privately and from house to house. In a word, he would give himself wholly to his work; consecrate to it all the powers of his body and mind, and pursue the;rand object of saving himself, and them that heard him, with unabated ardor and activity, to the close of life. " The influence of the great objects which he beholds, would appear also in his manner of performing ministerial duties. In his public approaches to the throne of grace, he would exhibit a personification of reverence and godly fear, and evince that he was addressing a present being; that he felt himself irmmediately under the eye of a holy, heart-searching God. While he would make supplication for himself and his people, like one who was pleading for life, at the bar of his judge, every word and accent would show that he was deeply convinced of his glilt and sinfulness; that he felt the need of a Mediator; that he felt, also, that holy, humble confidence, which the sight of such a Mediator as Christ is calculated to inspire. "In delivering his message as an ambassador of Christ, he wollld show that he felt deeply penetrated with a conviction of its truth and infinite importance. He would speak like one whose whole soul was filled with his subject. He would speak of Christ and his salvation as a grateful, admiring people would speak of a great and generous deliverer, who had devoted his life for the welfare of his country. He would describe religion as a traveller describes a country through which he has leisurely passed, or as an aged man describes the scenes of his former life. He would portray the Christian warfare as a veteran nortrays a battle, in which he has just been contending for liberty and life. He would speak of eternity as one vwhose eye had been wearied in attempting to penetrate its unfathomable recesses, and describe its awful realities like a man who stood EDWARD PAYSON. 237 on the verge of time, and had lifted the veil which conceals them from the view of mortals.'Thoughts that glow and words that burn,' would compose his public addresses; and while a sense of the dignity of his official character, and the infinite importance of his subject, would lead him to speak, as one having authority, with indescribable solemnity, weight, and energy; a full recollection, that he was by nature a child of wrath, and that he was addressing fellow men, fellow sinners, mingled with compassion for their wretched state, and an ardent desire for their salvation, would spread an air of tenderness over his discourses, and invest him with that affectionate, melting, persuasive correctness of manner, which is best calculated to affect and penetrate the heart. To say all in a word, he would speak like an ambassador of him who spake as never man spake, and who could say, We speak what we do know, and testify what we have seen. "Nor would the great objects which he beheld lose their influence when he descended from the sacred desk. Wherever he went, they would still surround him, and their overwhelming importance would annihilate in his mind the importance of all other objects. Wherever he went, he would see before him immortal beings, who were either heirs of glory or children of perdition; pilgrims on their way to heaven, or travellers to hell. To awaken, convince, and convert the one, and to animate, instruct, and comfort the other, would be the great object of his private conversation, as well as of his public addresses; and the prosecution of this object would leave him neither leisure nor inclination to attend to secular concerns, any further than absolute necessity required. Feeling that he watched for souls as one who must give an account, and knowing the secret errors, mistakes, and delusions, into which men are prone to fall, he would be anxious to acquire as perfect a knowledge as possible of the religious character, views, and feelings, of every individual' in his flock, and would improve every favorable opportunity for this purpose. Nor, while employed in cultivating the vineyard of others, would he forget or neglect his own; but would labor to save himself, as well as to secure the salvation of them that heard him. He would be emphatically a man of prayer, and, like his divine Master, would often retire and ascend the mount to converse with God, and draw from the Fountain of life fresh supplies 238 MEMOIR OF "It is needless to add, that he would not be conformed to the world, nor seek its honors, wealth, or applause. With a fixed and steadfast eye, he would contemplate things unseen and'eternal, and count neither the joys nor the sufferings of the present life worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed. Thus his life, as well as his sermons, would preach; his official character would never be laid aside or forgotten; his sincerity would be manifest to the consciences of his hearers, and all would exclaim, with one voice,' This man believes, and therefore speaks.' " Such, my fathers and brethren, would probably be a minister who saw what we all profess to believe. Such were the first preachers of the gospel; and such, in some degree at least, must we be, if we would convince men of our sincerity. We must imitate the example of the apostles, and exhibit the influence of that faith, which the Scriptures describe, in the discharge of our public official duties. In the performance of these duties, we must not confine ourselves within those limits which sloth or negligence first introduced, and which custom has sanctioned. We must not restrict our labors to the stated and ordinary services of the sanctuary. These our hearers expect. For these they imagine that we are paid. Their regular performance is therefore considered, and justly so, as affording no proof of our sincerity. To evince the reality of our belief, something more is necessary. We cannot reasonably expect our hearers to believe that we sincerely and earnestly desire their salvation, while we do nothing more to promote it than custom or a regard to our reputation requires; nor is it easy to conceive how they can suppose, that we really believe them to be constantly exposed to endless, remediless ruin, while we warn them of their danger on the Sabbath only, and appear to forget their perilous situation during the remainder of the week. If we wish them to feel convinced that such is their situation, and that we really believe it to be so, we must show them that we fix no limits to our labors, but those which necessity prescribes. "Of little, if any, less importance is it, that we exhibit the influence and effects of faith in our manner of performing ministerial duties. However frequently or plainly we may warn oux hearers, if we address them only in a cold, unfeeling man EDWAR D PA YSON. 239 ner, we can scarcely expect them to feel convinced of our sincerity. Such, evidently, was not the manner in which the first preachers of Christianity inculcated its doctrines. St. Paul could say, when bidding farewell to his Ephesian hearers,'I ceased not to warn every one of you, night and day with tears.' Considering the sanguine temperament of the apostle, and the different constitutions and dispositions of men, it cannot, perhaps, be reasonably demanded or expected, that every minister should be able to say this; though, if any thing can justly call for tears, it must be the situation of our impenitent hearers; and to weep in contemplation of the miseries which they are bringing upon themselves, is highly becoming in the ministers of him who wept over rebellious Jerusalem. To say the least, some degree of apparent earnestness, zeal, and fervor, seems requisite to stamp our public discourses with an air of sincerity; and when the natural disposition renders it impossible to manifest much warmth of feeling, as in many cases it undoubtedly does; it is peculiarly necessary that its absence should be supplied by increased solemnity and energy in the dispensation of truth. Mankind are so constituted, that it is exceedingly difficult not to say impossible, for them to believe that a speaker is in earnest, who does not appear to be interested in his subject, or who delivers interesting and important truths in a manJert which betrays a total want of feeling; and never are they less ready to excuse such a manner-never, indeed, is it leJs excusable-than when found in those who preach the glorious gospel of the blessed God, and, in his name, warn sinners to fly from the wrath to come. It is, doubtless, to their adoption of a more warm and impassioned mode of address, that the influence of sectarian preachers over the minds of common hearers is to be principally ascribed. It is this, which gives their loose and desultory, but vehement harangues, an air of sincerity, an appearance of flowing warm from the heart, which cur more correct and methodical discourses do not always posses, but which is almost indispensably necessary to the production of a general belief that we are sincere. In making these observations, I would not, however, be understood to intimate, that an apparent want of fervency, zeal, and animation, affords, in all cases, just cause for questioning a minister's sincerity; or that the degree of real feeling is always in propor 240 M E MOIR OF tion to the outward expressions of it. We readily allow; that many may firmly believe the truths they deliver, and feel deeply interested in their success, and yet, in consequence of a constitutional coolness and evenness of temper, display less warmth and animation than others who are far below them in real faith and religious sensibility. Still, we cannot believe that it is inpossible for any one, whose heart glows with the sacred fre of love and zeal, to preach in such a manner, as to leave in the minds of his hearers no doubt of his sincerity, or of his earnest desire to effect their salvation. " If this be important, it is, if possible, still more so, thalt we exhibit the influence and effects of faith in our more private intercourse with society.'It is here,' says a celebrated EIglish prelate,'that, I conceive, we of the clergy are apt to fil. We do not always, in the common intercourse of life, appear sufficiently penetrated with the importance of our function, or sufficiently assiduous in promoting the ends of our misson.''I could name instances,' says another divine,'where it has appeared to me, that the probable good effects of a very faithful testimony in the pulpit, have, humanly speaking, been wholly defeated by too successful endeavors to be agreeable out of it.' These remarks, though made with reference to the English clergy, are but in too many instances applicable to the divines of our own country; and they suggest, at once, much important instruction and reproof. It is doubtless right to associate with all classes among our hearers, and even with publicans and sinners; but it must be only, or principally, with a design to instruct and reform them. It is also not only right, but a duty, to become all things to all men, so far as we lawfully can; but our only object in doing it must be by all means to save some; and if the object be not kept steadily in view, if religious conversation be not introduced on all proper occasions, on all occasions which Christ and his apostles would have thought proper for this purpose, our social intercourse with our hearers will certainly become a snare to us, and a stumbling block to them; and, perhaps, more than counteract the good effects of all our public addresses. If we lay aside our official character, and feel as if we had discharged all our official dutles, when we descend from the sacred desk; if, while associating w-ith our impenitent hearers, we appear to forget their EDWARD PAYSONT. 241 character, and the awfully dangerous situation in which they stand, they will certainly forget it too, and probably doubt whether we really believe it ourselves. Should a physician assure a number of his patients, that their symptoms were highly alarming, and their diseases probably mortal, and then sit down and converse on trifling subjects, with an air of quiet indifference or levity, what would be their inference from his conduct?' Would they not unavoidably conclude. either that he did not really consider their situation as dangerous, or that he was grossly deficient in sensibility, and in a proper regard to their feelings? So if our impenitent hearers see us, after solemnly assuring them from the pulpit, that they are children of disobedience, children of wrath, andmomentarily exposed to the most awful punishment, mingling in their society with an apparent unconsciousness of their perilous situation; conversing with earnestness on secular affairs; and seldom or never introducing topics strictly religious, or embracing private opportunities to warn them of their danger, -what must they suppose? If they reflect at all, must they not unavoidably conclude, either that we do not believe their situation to be such as we have represented it, or that we are totally devoid, not only of benevolence. compassion, and religious sensibility, but even of the common feelings.of humanity'? It is needless to remark, that either conclusion would be far from producing favorable ideas of our sincerity, or ministerial faithfulness. If, then, we wish that such ideas should be entertained by our people, we must convince them by our conduct, that we never forget our character, our dutty, or their situation. " The conviction of our cordial belief of the truths we deliver, which such a discharge of the ministerial duty will produce in the minds of our hearers, must be seated and maintained by a corresponding life. Unaccompanied with this, all other means will be in vain.'Example,' says a French prelate, is the groundwork of a minister's character.' In vain,' he adds,' do we preach to our hearers. Our life, of which they are witnesses, is, with the generality of men, the gospel. It is not what we declare in the house of God, it is what they see us practise in our general demeanor.' If then, we would maintain a conviction among our hearers, that we are sincere, our conduct, as well as our sermons, must preach: and if the former VOL. I. 31 242 MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. contradicts, or does not coincide with the latter, no good effects can be reasonably expected to follow. We must, therefore, be able, though we may not think proper, to say, with the apostle, Be ye followers of me, even as I am of Christ. The things which ye have received, and learned, and heard, and seen in me, do, and the God of peace shall be with you.' If, says archbishop Usher to his clergy,'if practical Christian piety, benevolence, and self government, with constant zeal to promote them all upon earth, are not the first and chief qualities, which your parishioners and acquaintances will ascribe to you; if they will speak of you as noted on other accounts, but pass over these articles in silence, and, when asked about them, be at a loss what to say, excepting, possibly, that they know no harm of you, all is not right; nor can such a clergy answer the design of its institution any where, nor even maintain its ground in a country of freedom and learning.' God grant that the clergy of this country may never, by evincing the want of these qualities, frustrate the all-important end of their ministry, nor render it impossible for them to maintain their ground against the assaults of error, vice, and infidelity." Had this description of the' good minister of Jesus Christ " been drawn by another hand, the familiar acquaintances of Dr. Payson might well have supposed that himself sat for the picture; so accurately did the grand features of his ministerial character correspond with this delineation. Here is, unquestionably, the standard of excellence which he had prescribed to himself, and at which his aims were continually directed. And, whatever might have been the degree of those deficiencies, which he so frequently and so pathetically laments, as to the spirit and temper with which he discharged his official duties, it is doubted whether the most scrutinizing observer was ever able to detect in his practice any material variation from this standard. Often did his clear exhibitions of truth, and his fill and plain exposures of the obliquities of men, prove the occasion of bitter and outrageous feelings in the bosoms of many; but rarely, indeed, could the individual be found, who ventured to express a doubt of his honesty and sincerity. He was always in earnest, and "commended himself to every man's conscience in the sight of God." CHAPTER XIV. The pastor in action —Methods of exciting, sustaining and extending a due interest in religious concerns —Preaching, administration of ordinances, church fast, conference, inquiry meetings. ALTHOUGH most of the preceding chapter, if changed from the didactic form to that of narration, would, for the extent to which it reaches, present a true history of its author, yet there are other details from his own pen, interspersed throughout his familiar correspondence, which will be found scarcely less instructive, and, at the same time, exhibit a fuller development of the nature, extent, and variety of his pastoral labors. We shall commence our extracts with a letter written in 1812, to a young clergyman, then recently settled in the ministry, who had sought his instruction and advice on the subject of pastoral duties. It has already been stated, that Mr. Payson was now the sole pastor of the church; and it was in this year that thirty-one of its members were separated from it, and, by a distinct organization, constituted the "Chapel Congregational Church in Portland," over which Mr. Kellogg was placed as pastor. The vacancy hereby created was more than filled - forty-eight persons being added to the church within the same year. It was distinguished beyond former years for " the fruits of the Spirit." " DEAR BROTHER: —Your letter requesting'information and advice,' has just reached me. I rejoice in the circumstances that led to such a request. I rejoice still more that you feel'ignorant, and inexperienced, and inadequate to the charge 244 MEMOIR OF which has devolved upon you.' We must feel so, or we shall meet with little success. "I can, however, assure you, for your encouragement, that you cannot possibly be more ignorant and inexperienced than I was at the time of my settlement. I knew just nothing at all of my business; but I knew a little, O how little i of my ovwn ignorance. This led me to pray almost incessantly; and, somehow or other, I have, as I trust, been preserved from fatal mistakes, and not suffered to ruin either myself or my people; as I sometimes feared that I should. He who has thus guided me, and thousands of others equally foolish, will, I trust, guide you. The best advice I can give you, is, to look to Him. This I doubt not you do; but you cannot do it too much. If we would do much for God, we must ask much of God; we must be men of prayer; we must, almost literally, pray without ceasing. You have doubtless met with Luther's remark,'lThree things make a divine-prayer, meditation, and temptation.' My dear brother, I cannot insist on this too much. Prayer is the first thing, the second thing, and the third thing necessary for a minister, especially in seasons of revival. The longer you live in the ministry, the more deeply, I am persuaded, you will be convinced of this. Pray then, my dear brother, pray, pray, pray. Read the account of Solomon's choice, 1 Kings, iii. 5-15. If, like him, you choose wisdom, and pray for it, it will be yours. "The next thing -in importance is, as I conceive, that your church should be excited to pray for the influences of the Divine Spirit; and that they should frequently meet for this purpose. For, though private prayer may be as effectual, it does not so directly tend to honor God, as that which is more public. God converts sinners for his own glory, and he will have all the glory of their conversion. Nothing tends more directly to give fiim the glory, than social prayer. In that duty we explicitly acknowledge, not only to him, but to our fellow-creatures, that nothing but the influences of his Spirit can render any means effectual, and that we are entirely dependent for those influences on his sovereign will. In a word, we acknowledge that, in the conversion of sinners, he is all, and we are nothing. " With respect to those who are awakened, I conceive it is oulr duty to act as fellow-workers with the Divine Spirit; to EDWARD PAYSON. 245 insist principally on those truths of which he first convinces them, and to endeavor, both by our preaching and conversation, to bring them to the same point to which he aims to bring them. This point is complete self-despair, and hope in Christ. The former is a pre-requisite to the latter. I therefore aim, in the first place, to increase their convictions of sins, especially of the great, damning sil of unbelief. If they ask, What shall we do? I never dare give them any other answer than that given by Christ and his apostles:' Repent, and believe the gospel.' I insist much on the character of God; the strictness, extent and spiritluality of his law; the various artifices, deceptions, and excuses of the heart; the false hopes of sinners and hypocrites; the nature of true and false conversion; and the great danger of being deceived. I also frequently warn them of the dread ful consequences of delaying repentance, grieving the Spirit, losing their convictions, or resting on false hopes, like the stony ground hearers. I labor especially to convince them that all the difficulties which oppose their salvation lie in their own hearts-that Christ is willing to save them-but they are unwilling to be saved in his way, and are, therefore, without excuse. This is a very important point. I have seen none go back who appeared to be truly convinced of this. In addition to this, I say much of the glory, beauty, and sufficiency of Christ, and of the perfect freeness of the blessings which he offers, and endeavor to show them the horrid pride, ingratitude, &c., of neglecting to accept of them. These are some of the principal subjects on which I preach to inquirers. You will easily determine what are the most proper texts from which to explain and enforce them. "With respect to our inquiry meetings, I can only tell you that we have them once a week, afternoons for females, evenings for males. It is difficult to persuade them to converse as fieely as might be wished. You will find, however, as your experience increases, that it is of little consequence whether they say much or not, as a single sentence will often give you as perfect a view of their character and feelings, as you could acquire from the longest conversation. But, if you wish them to converse with you with freedom, you must visit them at home. Your greatest danger will be in comforting them too soon. All comfort is dangerous till they surrender unconditionally to t.h 246 M E MOIR OF sovereign grace of God. It is much safer to err on the other side." The extract which follows describes the origin of a meeting that was long continued, and signally blessed:"Nov. 14, 1.814. "Three weeks since, I preached to the young, from the words of Christ, when twelve years old —'I must be about my Father's business.' At the close of the sermon, I invited all the young men, who were fully determined to engage immediately il their Father's work, to meet me in the evening, and, at the same time, told them I was not confident that any of them would come. However, about forty attended. After stating to them the difficulties and temptations they would meet with, and the sacrifices they must make in a religious course, I advised them to consider of it a fortnight, and, if they still felt resolved to persevere, to meet me again. About thirty came the second evening; and, though I cannot calculate upon all, or even the major part of them; becoming Christians, yet I hope some of them will. Two or three times, during his ministry, he adopted what would be generally regarded as bold measures; and they would have been absolutely rash and injurious,'had they not originated in a sincere and glowing zeal for God, and the eternal welfare of men. It would be hazardous for another to imitate him herein, without some portion of his spirit. Yet who, that estimates the worth of the soul, will dare to censure his conduct, or say that the importance of the object was not, at least, commensurate with his zeal? "FEB. 21, 1815. "We have a great revival commencing. We have been expecting it some time; and a few weeks since, at the close of a suitable sermon, I informed the congregation that I believed God was about to bless us, and told them that the quarterly fast of the church was at hand, and that, if they would consent to unite with the church in the fast, we would meet in the meeting-house, instead of the conference room, where we usually assemble on such occasions. At the same time, I invited those who were EDVWArD PAYSON. 247 willing to meet the church to signify it by rising. About twothirds of the congregation instantly rose. It was a most solemnl scene. The church, to whom the measure was altogether unexpected, were almost overwhelmed with various emotions, and scarcely knew whether tQ be glad or sorry, to hope or fear. You may well suppose that the interval between the Sabbath and the fast was a trying season to me. I felt that I had completely committed myself —that my all was at stake-that, if a blessing did not attend the measure, every mouth would be open to condemn it; and it seemed as if I could hardly survive a disappointment. I should not have taken such a step, had I not believed I had sufficient reason for trusting that God would bear me out in it; and I thought if he did not bear me out, I never should again know what to expect-never should feel confidence to pray. I expected severe trials, but had few fears of the event. The trials came, but they did not come in the way that I expected, and therefore I was surprised and overcome by them. The day of the fast was the most dreadful day of my life -the day in which I had most dreadful proofs of more than diabolical depravity of heart. The meeting-house was full, but things did not go on in the manner I had hoped and expected. I thought all was lost; and I now wonder that I lived through it —that a broken heart, as Mr. Newton says disappointed pride and madness are called, was not the consequence. For some days I saw and heard nothing encouraging, and my distress was unabated; but at the next inquiry meeting, I found more than sixty inquirers. This number, within a week, was considerably increased, and eight or ten have obtained comfort. The prospect is now more encouraging than it has been since my settlement." Below is an incidental mention of the multiplicity of his labors, from which may be inferred the despatch with which he habitually executed his appropriate work:"MAY 21, 1816. "My avocations were never so numerous. Ihave two sermons, which I wish, if possible, to prepare for the press, but fear I never shall find time. I have also three ordination sermons to preach within two months, sermons before two missionary societies within the same time, and, on the second Sabbath in July, 248 MEMOIR OF I have an engagement to preach in Portsmouth, before the managers of the Female Asylum. Besides this, I preach four sermons, and attend two inquiry meetings, weekly, &c. &c. Judge, then, whether I am not worn out, and whether I do not need your prayers more than ever. As to a revival, my wishes for it are not, cannot be too strong; if they are disinterested, and not selfish. Though I am wearing myself out, it is, 1 sometimes fear, rather in the service of self than in the service of God; and this reflection imbitters every thing I do. It would be heaven to labor for God, but it is misery to labor for one's self. As to the slang you hear about a revelation, I need not tell you that there is no truth in it. However, I hope the Lord has some people yet to be gathered in here. We have admitted thirtythree since the year came in, and nine stand propounded; the number of inquirers about one hundred, and slowly increasing." APRIL 13, 1S20.'We have some encouraging appearances, as we have often had before, but nothing decisive. Last Sabbath I invited the male part of the parish; who were willing to be considered inquirers after religion, to meet me in the evening. Between thirty and forty attended, but I fear that very few of them are deeply impressed. We have about the same number of females, who are in a similar state; and it seems, as it has for a long time, that, if God would work a little more powerfully, there would be a great revival. But I desire to wait." "AUGUST, 6, 1821. " As to my desires for a revival, I have not, and never had, the least doubt that they are exceedingly corrupt and sinful. A thousand wrong motives have conspired to excite them. Still I do not believe that my desires were ever half so strong as they ought to be; nor do I see how a minister can help being in a'constant fever,' in such a town as this, where his Master is dishonored, and souls are destroyed in so many ways. You can scarcely conceive how may things occur, almost daily, to distress and crush me. All these are nothing, when my Master is with me; but, when he is absent, I am of all men most miserable. But now he is with me and I am happy. "We have just set up a meeting on a new plan. Notes, to this EDWARD PAYSON. 249 effect, are put into a box at the door:-' A member of this church desires prayers for the conversion of a husband, a child, a parent,' &c.; as the case may be. These notes are then read, and prayers are offered. We have had but one meeting; the evening was rainy, but nearly forty notes were given in, and it was the most solemn meeting we have had for a long time. Among the notes were two from persons who think they were deceived when they made a profession of religion, desiring prayers that they may be truly converted. The church has also had a day of thanksgiving, lately, to acknowledge what God has done for us, and it was a comfortable season.-These things give me some encouragement; but wAe have been so often disappointed, that I scarcely dare to hope." A letter to a young clergyman, written soon after the preceding extract, contains a still more complete sketch of his labors at this time. It has been extensively copied by the religious periodicals of the country, one of which professes to be "shocked at his expressions in relation to revivals, " as indicating'that temerity which would rely on the impotent arm of the creature." If his language is susceptible of such a construction, it most unhappily misrepresents his judgment and his heart. For, though he was abundant in labors, " no man ever ascribed less efficacy to means, or felt more entirely his exclusive dependence upon the Holy Spirit. PORTLAND, AUG. 17, 1821. " MY DEAR BROTHER:-I have just received your kind letter, and hope it has done me some good. 1 thank you for it, though the perusal of it has given me much pain. It is evident that you think far more favorably of me than I deserve; and your applying to me for advice shames and mortifies me exceedingly. But I dare not say what I feel on this subject, lest you should think me humble, which is far enough from being the case. Besides, you wish me to write respecting myself and my labors, and this is the very subject on which I am most unwilling to write, because I find it most dangerous. It affords an opportunity for gratifying an accursed spirit of self-seeking, which has ever been my bane and torment, and which insinuates itself into every thing I say or do. I know not that I have ever spoken of 250 MEMOIR OF myself without furnishing cause for sorrow and shame. How, then, can I write as you request me to do? or what can I say that will be of any service to you? But you will reply that God can bless the feeblest means. True; and therefore 1 will write, though I foresee that I shall smart for it. "You ask for a general view of my pastoral labors, method of preaching, &c. &c. Since the failure of my health, I preach but three sermons in a week-two on the Sabbath, and one on Thursday evening. On that evening and Sabbath morning, I preach without notes, but generally form a skeleton of my sermon. I should like to write more, but my health will not permit; and I find that, when any good is done, it is my extempore sermons which do it. I am afraid of producing a faith which stands not in the power of God, but in the wisdom of men, and, therefore, make as little use as possible of human arguments, but confine myself to a plain, simple exhibition of divine truth. The sword of the Spirit will not wound if it has a scabbard on it. I also aim to preach the truths of the gospel in a practical and experimental, rather than a dry and speculative manner. In preaching to professing Christians, I endeavor to rouse and humble, rather than to comfort them; for, if they can be kept humble, comfort will follow of course. Besides, I do not suppose that Christians need as much consolation now as they did in the primitive ages, when exposed to persecution. " Our church is divided into seven districts; the members of each district meet for prayer and conversation once a month, and the brethren residing in each district are a standing committee of the church, for that district, to supply the wants of the poor, and bring before the church, in due form, any case of discipline which may occur.-We have a monthly meeting of all the brethren for business, a church conference every Tuesday evening, a prayer meeting on Friday evening, a monthly prayer meeting for the Sabbath schools, and the monthly union concert for prayer. We have also an inquiry meeting for males, on Sabbath evening, and for females, on Friday afternoon. " As to method in the division of time, I have none; but live altogether extempore. This is partly owing to the wretched state of my health, which deprives mne of at least three days in EDWARD PAYSON. 251 every week, and partly to continual interruptions from visitors, whom I must see. I knew not how to bear this, till I met with the following maxim of an eminent minister:' The man who wants me is the man I want.' IMy rule, in regard to visiting, is to visit as much as time and htealth will permit. I make none but pastoral visits. I gave my people to understand, when I was settled, that they must never invite me to dine or sup when they did not wish to have the conversation turn wholly on religious subjects. This has s'aved me much time and trouble. " The books which I have found most useful to me are Edwards's Works, Brainerd's Life, Newton's Letters, Owen's Treatise on Indwelling Sin, Mortification of Sin in Believers, and the 130th Psalm, and Thomas a Kempis's Imitation of Christ, translated by Payne-for Stanhope's translation I think not so good. If you have not seen Thomas a Kempis, I beg you to procure it. Some things you will not like; but, for spirituality and weanedness from the world, I know. of nothing equal to it. Perhaps I ought to include, in the above list, Baxter's Reformed Pastor, and Saint's Rest. "It would require a volume to detail the experiments I have made, and the means I have used to effect a revival of religion and, after it was written, it would not be worth reading. I will, however, just mention what we are doing now. We have established a prayer meeting on the following plan:-Members of the church, and others, if they think proper, present notes requesting prayers for the conversion of any friend or relative for whom they feel anxious. No names are mentioned. The notes are placed in a small box by the door, and afterwards handed to me to be read. We have had two meetings. They were uncommonly solemn, and many of the notes were very affecting. One was,'A female stranger desires your prayers for her conversion.' Another,'One of the society desires your prayers for the conversion of her husband and herself.' Several were from old professors, who fear that they have been deceived, and a great number from husbands, wives, and parents, desiring prayers for their partners, children, &c. When we came to spread all these cases before God as the only Giver of good things, the scene was awfully solemn and affecting. X X X X X X 252 ME I. OIR OF "I think witl you, that the management of a revival is a very difficult thing. It is, I believe, a subject as yet very imperfectly understood. At least, I know but very little of it. "I think I can conceive, in some measure, of the inconvenience you experience in consequence of the great extent of yotr parish. It must be exceedingly difficult to collect your church Together as often as you would wish, and to perform ministerial duties. A minister, however, who has but a small parish; is required to do all that he can, and you are required to do no more. Still it is exceedingly painful to see niany things which need to be done, but which we cannot find time or strength to do. PMy parish, as well as my heart, very much resembles the garden of the sluggard; and, what is worse, I find that most of my desires for the melioration of both proceed either from pride, or vanity, or indolence. I look at the weeds which overspread my garden, and breathe out an earnest wish that; they were eradicated. But why? What prompts the wish? It may be that I may walk out and say to myself,' In what fine order is my garden kept!' This is pride. Or it may be that my neighbors may look over the wall, and say,' How finely your garden flourishes!' This is vanity. Or I may wish for the destruction of the weeds because I am weary of pulling them up. This is indolence. Yet from such sources, I fear, do most of my desires for personal holiness, and for the progress of religion in my society, proceed. I hope and trust it is otherwise with you.'As I write with perfect freedom, I will take the liberty to mention one thing more, which, if I always attended to, it would, I believe, be highly beneficial. The disciples, we read,'returned to Jesus, and told him all things, both what they had done and what they had taught.' I think, that if we would, every evening, come to our Master's feet, and tell him where we have been, what we have done, what we have said, and what were the motives by which we have been actuated, it would have a salutary effect upon our whole conduct. While reading over each day's page of life, with the consciousness that He was reading it with us, we should detect many errors and defects, which would otherwise pass unnoticed. Pardon this hint. I trust you do not need it.:I have written a long letter, and yet, I fear, said nothing which will be of the smallest service to you. But you must, EDWARD PAYSON. 253 as our kind Master does, take the will for the deed. May He fill you with the Holy Ghost, and with faith, and make you instrumental of adding much people to the Lord. So prays your sincere friend." He was particularly observant of current events, and careful to make them all subservient to the great purposes of his ministry. By these his exhortations were often enforced; and hence some of the severest reproofs which he administered were drawn. At the close of public worship, one Sabbath, he gave notice that the different churches in the town would observe the following AWednesday as a day of fasting and prayer for divine influences; and, after mentioning that religious exercises would be attended in the morning, afternoon, and evening, he observed: " Should any be disposed to ask, with the Pharisees of old,'To what purpose is this waste of time' I would remind them of the attention lately bestowed on an earthly benefactor. One united, earnest request was made to him, that he would visit this country, for which, in times of trial, he had sacrificed ease and domestic comfort, and hazarded his life and treasure. He acceded to the invitation of a grateful people; he has visited you. You spared neither time nor expense to give him an honorable reception. And have you not, my friends, a Heavenly Benefactor, from whom you receive every good and perfect giftt! a Saviour, who has given his life to redeem you from everlasting bondage and misery? When will one hearty, united request arise from this place, that our God and Redeemer will visit us? And should he come, would he be welcomed as was the benefactor just alluded to? It is true that, in one sense, God is ever present; but he can be with us in such a manner that his presence will be felt, and the effects of it made visible. And the efiects of his absence, too, may be seen, while no cheering rays of his life-giving Spirit are imparted. And shall we grudge a day, to be devoted to special entreaty, that he would come in the chariot of his salvation, from conquering to conquer? that he would make us glad with the light of his countenance? Was one day too short for all the acknowledgements which we were desirous to make to our nation's friend? And is it too long to be devoted to him who is the Redeemer of the world, from whom cometh our salvation, and whose favor is immortal life?" 254 MEMOIR OF Among his various methods of drawing attention to the subject of religion, and impressing the mind with its importance, the following is, perhaps, worthy of preservation, for the practical hint which it conveys: " Once, in the course of my ministry, I made an analysis of all the sermons which I had preached to my people for six months, and imbodied it in one sermon, and preached it to them. They were astonished, and I was astonished, at the amount of truth which had been presented to them, and, to human appearance, with very little effect.'"How descriptive of his constant solicitude, and of the various exertions to which it prompted him, are the lines of the poet:- - " And as a bird each fond endearment tries To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way." It would be matter for lamentation, if the preceding statements of insulated facts should be so interpreted as to convey to strangers an impression altogether erroneous respecting Dr. Payson's general manner of exercising the ministry. He was a staunch friend to the " good old way," and generally adhered to it in the discharge of ministerial duties; his deviations were circumstantial. He differed from others in the zeal and earnestness with which he prosecuted the ordinary routine of clerical services, more than in the novelty and extravagance of his measures. The new aspect which his society assumed, in consequence of the blessing of God upon his faithful and zealous labors, required meetings and exercises of a specific character, and, of course, some addition to their number. To render these in the highest degree subservient to the spiritual good of his charge, was his uniform aim, in the pursuit of which he made the most felicitous use of every providential event and every noticeable fact in the circumstances of his people, as a means of enforcing truths and duties of immediate and indispensable importance. His very few direct deviations from the regular course, particularly calling upon the congregation to rise, though adopted from a full conviction, at the time, that the crisis demanded them, seem to have been viewed by him afterwards EDWARD PAYSON. 255 as of rather questionable expediency, as is evident from the apology which the reader has already seen, under date of Feb. 21, 1815, and from an allusion yet to be seen, in his diary, where he characterizes them as "extraordinary, and perhaps imprudent measures." A frequent resort to them he most certainly would not justify; for he makes theirdefencetorest on the extraordinary circumstances of the case, and on the fact that he adopted them " after much prayer for direction." It should be remembered, too, that he was the established pastor, that he stood high in the affections and confidence of his people, who had witnessed the rapid growth of his extraordinary piety, for a period of eight or ten years, without having discovered a single circumstance to discredit its reality or strength. They knew him to be a man of great simplicity of purpose, who did nothing for stage effect; and whatever might be their judgment of particular acts, they were sure he watched for their souls as one that must give account, and was not accustomed to "say a word to sinners, except when he had a broken heart himself." These and other circumstances, which might be mentioned, distinguish his measures from those of the mere temporary or itinerant preacher, and afford, at most, but a very dubious sanction to the wilder tendencies of some more recent evangelists. The feelings which prompted and sustained his restless activity for the glory of God and the salvation of men, very frequently disclose themselves in his correspondence and diary:"DECEMBER 26, 1821. " I do not think you understand my feelings about a revival. Unless I am very much deceived, I have no controversy with God respecting it. But ought a minister to feel easy while his people are perishing, and Christians are dishonoring their Master? Did not Paul feel great heaviness, and continual sorrow of heart, for his countrymen? All the joy and gratitude he felt, in view of what God had done for him and by him, could not remove that sorrow. And the prophet would weep day and night for the daughter of his people. Instead of feeling less, it seems to me that I ought to feel more, and to have no rest. But I do not murmur at God's dealings. I only wonder that he ever 256 MEMOIR OF did any thing for me or by me; and that he has not long since, cast me out of his vineyard. As to the bed-ridden female you mention, I see nothing very wonderful in her rejoicing and gratitude. Well may she rejoice and be grateful when she is filled full of divine consolation. She has outward trials, it is true; but what are they, when Christ is present? Who wants candles when he has the sun? Give me her consolations, and I will sing as loud as she does. And let her have my showers of fiery darts, and my other trials, and, unless I am much mistaken, she will groan as much as I do. I have seen very young Christians terribly afflicted by bodily pain and sickness, for months together, and all the time full of joy and thankfulness; and I have seen the same persons afterwards, when they were surrounded by temporal mercies, show very little of either. Things seem to be a little on the mending hand; and the church are again beginning to hope for a revival. Last Sabbath was an uncommonly solemn day." " AUG. 20, 1823. "It has been, and still is, a season of spiritual deadness among us. I have preached.so plainly, especially to the church. that I feared they would not bear it, and that we should come to an open rupture. However, they have borne it very well, and there seems now to be more of a disposition among them to make exertion; but it is impossible to say what the result will be. "If you have not written to ~ lately, it would be well to cheer him with a letter. Poor man! he seems to be just entering on Newton's second stage: the characteristic of which, you recollect, is conflict. However, I trust he will be carried safely through. I wish, with all my heart, that Satan would fight against the peace of some of our church more than he does; but he is too cunning to do that. He sees that they are slumbering, and he will take care not to wake them. You can scarcely form an idea how soporific the air of a seaport is, nor of the irresistible force with which the world assails Christians in such a place as this. The moment they step out of doors, it rushes in at their eyes and ears, in ten thousand shapes, so that, unless their hearts are pre-occupied with better things, they are filled with it in a moment. By turns I expostulate, and plead, EDWARD PAYSON. 257 and warn, and threaten, and weep, and pray, and sometimes almost scold, but all in vain. The world drags away its victims, and laughs my feeble efforts to scorn." "DEc. 5, 1823. A few weeks since, I set up a Bible class for young persons over fourteen years of age. About two hundred and fifty attend, and some of them appear interested; but none are awakened as yet. However, God must have some chosen ones among the rising generation, and he will, sooner or later, bring them in; but I fear that all, or nearly all, who have passed the meridian of life-I mean in my society-are given over to final hardness of heart." " JAN. 31, 1824. "Yesterday was our quarterly fast, and I pursued a new method. I first confessed my own sins to the church, asked their forgiveness, and then requested them to unite with me in praying that God would forgive me, and ordain me afresh as their pastor. I then, having, as I hope, cast the beam out of my own eye, proceeded to take the mote out of the eye of my brethren. I first called upon the deacons to follow my example, if they thought proper, by confessing their sins, and appointing one of their number to lead in prayer, that they might be forgiven. A similar call was then made upon the brethren, and, after that, upon the sisters, for whom I acted as mouth. A great deal was said, which I cannot write, but for want of which you will not fully understand our method of proceeding, nor all the reasons of it. It must suffice to say, that we attempted to obey, on a large scale, the exhortation of James:'Confess your faults one to another, and pray for one another, that ye may be healed.' I cannot but hope that it will prove to have been a profitable season, and that a blessing will follow it." "MAY 2, 1825. "I returned last week on Wednesday, preached a preparatory lecture on Thursday, attended the church quarterly fast on Friday, prepared for the Sabbath on Saturday, and, yesterday. preached twice, administered the sacrament, and addressed and prayed with the baptized youth. The consequence is that I am only half alive this morning. L. and a young lady who boards withI us were very much affected by the address to baptized VOL. I. 33 258 I MEMOIR OF youth. They wept all the last evening, and appear very solemn this morning; but L. has so often been affected in a similar manner, that I dare not promise myself much from present appearances. It is, however, evident that the Holy Spirit is constantly striving with her; she is never perfectly at ease; and I cannot but hope she will, ere long, become a subject of grace. " In a religious view, things remain with us very much as they have been, though I think the church, or some of them, at least, are becoming more alive than they were. I have lately had some delightful meditations on the priesthood of Christ. 1 was led to them by thinking how a penitent Israelite must have regarded his high priest. We may consider such a man as saying-'I am a miserable, polluted sinner. I cannot enter the holy place where God dwells, but am kept at a distance. I cannot burn incense acceptably, cannot be permitted even to offer my own sacrifice. But I have a high priest, appointed and consecrated by God, who is permitted to approach him on my behalf. He carries my name, or the name of my tribe, on his breast-plate. He offers sacrifice for me; he burns incense for me; he enters the most holy place, and sprinkles atoning blood for me. In him I am accepted, and in him will I glory. Take away my high priest, and you take away my all; but, while I have him, while he is accepted in my behalf, I will exult and rejoice.' And with how much more reason may the Christian triumph and glory in his Great High Priest, and rejoice that he is'accepted in the Beloved.' I do not mention these thoughts as any thing new, Dut as thoughts which have been peculiarly sweet and precious to me of late. Yet, alas! I am continually seeking to be my own high priest, to find something in myself, for the sake of which I may be accepted, at least in part. How happy are you, my dear mother, to have gotten almost through this wearisome, terrible conflict! Your trials and sufferings are almost ended, and the blessed fruit of them is all to come." These extracts furnish specimens of his zeal, and his various methods of exerting himself for the promotion of religion at different periods of his ministry; but it would be doing him great,iJustice to leave any room for the inference that the intervals between these dates were seasons of relaxation or indolence. EDWARD PAYSON. 259 Such seasons he never allowed himself. His labors were never suspended, unless physical debility rendered the prosecution of them impossible. His religion was not intermittent. With him time was a precious talent, and he " paid no moment but in purchase of its worth. " He would not willingly suffer an hour to pass away without some effort for the recovery of lost sinners. Whatever were the declension of those around him, his ardor in religion, and his exertions for its advancement; suffered no visible abatement. On the contrary, the darkest times were those in which he was eminently "jealous for the Lord of hosts," a living witness to the power of divine grace, and a living reproof to such as'"htad gone away backward." When he saw his fellow men indifferent to their own salvation — when he saw'reigning crime and hastening death"-it was "a spectacle which made" his heart ache, and "his eyes weep." He expostulated, he warned, he entreated, he mourned in secret places, he "ran between the dead and the living," and earnestly interceded with God to interpose for their salvation. He could "not hold his peace, nor take rest," when Zion was in affliction, and "none coming to the solemn feast. " As it respects the progress of the Redeemer's cause, he seemed always to glow- with the spirit and feelings which most are accustomed to regard as a privilege peculiar to a time of general revival. These feelings'must have been subject to some inequalities even in him; but they seem never to have sunk to a point which was not above the standard of attainment with ordinary men in their most favored seasons. He was, indeed, often discouraged with respect to himself and his own personal prospects; but, if he ever suffered any declension in zeal for the glory of God, in the salvation of others, it was of such temporary duration as to produce no perceptible effect on his use of means. If there was a time, during his whole ministry, when he was not ardently desirous, and, to the extent of his ability, actively laborious, for the conversion of sinners, the fact was not observable by his people. nor even by his most intimate friends. He loved his work: when not exhausted by fatigue, or Cepressed by illness, he was specially fond of the exercise of preaching-so much so, that he considered it no favor for a way-faritg brother t to offer to supply his place, gratuitously, on a Sabbath. He felt, to use his own comparison, about as much 260 MEMOIR OF obliged for such an offer, as he should to a man for proposing to eat up a good dinner, prepared for himself, when he was half starved. In preparing for the pulpit, it was uniformly his object to introduce so much of the grand truths of the gospel into every discourse, that a person who had never heard a sermon before, and should never hear another, might learn from it what was essential to salvation. While his sermons generally bore this uniform feature, they were endlessly various in other respects. He seldom selected a text without reference to the known circumstances of his church and congregation; and so wakeful and diligent was he, "to know the state of his flock, that he scarcely ever failed in the adaptation of his subject. So dexterously did he wield the sword of the Spirit, and so fully and accurately discern and expose "the thoughts and intents of the heart, " that, to this day, there are those who believe he obtained his information concerning them from eaves-droppers and "old women. " But, among all his services in the house of God, none, perhaps, were more signally blessed than his exercises at the communion table. Uniformly, this ordinance was, in a high degree, refreshing to his own spirit. Hither he delighted to come and quench his thirst for the water of life. Here he met the Saviour, "who bore our sins in his own body on the tree," and who, "having himself suffered, being tempted, knoweth how to succor theme that are tempted." For him the crucified Son of God had incomparable attractions. He saw in Christ that kind, synipathizing, all-powerful High-Priest, who was suited to the wants of which he felt so deeply conscious. And he always came to this sacred feast with a soul full of tenderness, and dwelt on the love of a suffering Saviour with a pathos that was irresistible. Here, in an unrivalled degree, his "heart indited good matter, and his tongue was the pen of a ready writer." "Jesus Christ was, indeed, set forth crucified before the eyes" of the admiring communicants. His person, attributes, and offices, as the Redeemer of our lost race; his marvellous compassion in dying to atone for our sins; his intercession at the right hand of the Father; the glories and terrors of his second coming,-were so distinctly and affectingly exhibited, as to excite the corresponding emotions in all hearts which were not harder than the nether mill-stone. Thiose who could sympathize with the administrator, while EDWARD PAYSON. 261 contemplatilng Christ as Mediator, " by whom we have access to God, and redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of our sins, according to the riches of his grace," felt that, in sinning against Christ, they had wounded their best, tenderest, almighty Friend. And 0 how hateful was sin made to appear! how loathsome! how heartily was it renounced! how fervently its future commission deprecated! and then the renewed and unreserved dedication of soul and body to God, as a living, holy, acceptable, and reasonable sacrifice!'" Iow sweet and awful was the place, " while sealing their vows, and Christ his pardons, with the consecrated symbols of his body and blood! How precious was the communion of saints with Jesus, and with one another!-To hundreds have these sacred scenes been earnests of the heavenly inheritance. And the interest which he gave to the occasion by his spirituality, his knowledge of the heart; of the Saviour, of the mysteries of redemption, by his appropriate and impressive appeals, usually detained a great number who were not communicants. The spectators were as numerous as the guests; and what they heard and witnessed was not unfrequently the means of conviction. This, too, was his chosen occasion to impress on baptized youth a sense of their obligations to devote themselves to their God and Redeemer; and a more suitable one could not have been selected. There are may who will remember it with everlasting gratitude. When it is recollected how much there is in this scene to render instructions impressive on the minds of this class of youth, might not ministers generally take a valuable hint from his practice? The church fasts and conferences, when conducted by the pastor, were, next to those of the communion, the most humble, melting, edifying, and instructive seasons which his highly favored flock enjoyed. Here he employed his faith, his imagination, and the various resources of his richly furnished mind, to show them their actual condition, and urge them forward in their Christian course. So distinctly and clearly could he illustrate the different degrees of Christian attainment, and mark the different shades and varieties of Christian experience in all its gradations, from the babe to the perfect man in Christ Jesus, that, it would seem, every Christian present must have known his precise rank. A specimen of his manner, as near as can be recollected, may be thus stated: 262 M EMOIR OF "Suppose professors of religion to be ranged in different concentric circles around Christ, as their common centre. Some value the presence of their Saviour so highly, that they cannot bear to be at any remove from him. Even their work they will bring lp, and do it in the light of his countenance; and, while engaged in it, will be seen constantly raising their eyes to him, as if fearful of losing one beam of his light. Others, who, to be sure, would not be content to live out of his presence, are yet less wholly absorbed by it than these, and may be seen a little farther off, engaged here and there in their various callings, their eyes generally upon their work, but often looking up for the light which they love. A third class, beyond these, but yet within the life-giving rays, includes a doubtful multitude, many of whom are so much engaged in their worldly schemes, that they may be seen standing sideways to Christ, looking mostly the other way, and only now and then turning their faces towards the light. And yet farther out, amongst the last scattered rays, so distant that it is often doubtful whether they come at all within their influence, is a mixed assemblage of busy ones, some with their backs wholly turned upon the sun, and most of them so careful and troubled about their many thlings, as to spare but little time for their Saviour. " The reason why the men of the world think so little of Christ, is, they do not look at him. Their backs being turned to the sun, they can see only their own shadows; and are, therefore, wholly taken up with themselves. While the true disciple, looking only upward, sees nothing but his Saviour, and learns to forget himself." "' The growth of grace in the heart may be compared to the process of polishing metals. First, you have a dark, opaque substance, neither possessing nor reflecting light. Presently, as the polisher plies his work, you will see here and there a spark darting out; then a strong light; till, by and by, it sends back a perfect image of the sun which shines upon it. So the work of grace, if begun in our hearts, must be gradually and continually going on; and it will not be completed, till the image of God can be seen perfectly reflected in us." At a church fast, in the time of revival, he mentioned, as EDWA i RD PAYSON. 283 dangers to be guarded against, and as causes of the suspension of divine influenlces,1. " Christians, in times of refreshing from the presence of tle Lord, are apt to be so nmch taken up in conversing and laboring with sinners, that, from concern for the souls of others, they neglect their own spiritual interests. This may do very well for a time, but in the end will be productive of much evil. I do not mean to dissuade you from laboring for the good of others, but to warn you to take care of your own souls. 2. c Christians are in danger, when a revival has continued for some time, of praying less for its continuance, and of being less thankful for it. They seem to take it for granted, that it will go on, as a matter of course; their prayers grow less frequlent and fervent, and their gratitude less lively, until, at length, a case of conversion, which would, at first, have electrified the whole church, produces scarcely any sensation at all. Now, when this is the case, a revival will certainly cease; for God never continues to bestow spiritual favors where they are not felt to be such. 3. " Another reason why revivals do not continue longer, is, tlat there is so much animal excitement mixed with tlem. It is a law of our nature, that the duration of merely animal feelings should be in inverse proportion to their strength. These are no part of spirituality and holiness; for the more holy we are, the less we shall have of them. Our Saviour had none of these feelings. Strive to repress animal feeling, and to be more purely spiritual." We read that Nadab and Abihu, on the day of their consecration to the priesthood, instead of taking holy fire, with which to burn incense, took strange, that is, common fire, and were punished by immediate death for their presumptionl. To us this may appear a slight offence. We may tlink one fire equally good with another. But our God is a jealous God, and ve must make our offerings in the manner he has commanded, and with a right spirit, or they will be an offence in his sight, and he will not accept them." Mr. Payson was never more happy than when guiding in 264'I E M OI R OF (luirers to' the Lamb of God, who taketll away the sils of the world." Some of the " similitudes," by which he endeavored to illustrate the nature of experimental religion, and assist inquirers in judging of the character of their own exercises, have been preserved in the memory of several of his later converts, and will not be unwelcome to any class of readers. They do not profess to be reported il precisely his language, and, on this account, due allowance must be made. Much of their original force and appositeness is doubtless lost. Suppose a number of persons standing by a river's side. They are invited to drink of its waters, but they are not thirsty, and, therefore, do not desire them. At length their thirst is excited, and they look round for a vessel, with which to take up somle water. But their vessels are all filled with- some worthless thing, which they are as yet unwilling to part with. But, as their thirst increases, they become willing to relinquish what they had thought of so much value, and, finally, emptying their vessels of this rubbish, and receiving the water, they quench tleir thirst. Thus it is with sinners: Jesus Christ invites them to come to him, the Fountain of living waters. But they decline his invitations-their hearts being filled with the treasures of earth. They do not thirst for Christ till God takes away the love of this world and its vanities, and the Holy Spirit fills them with desire to come to him. Then they hunger and thirst after righteousness, and are prepared to receive Christ." " Were a mlan suddenly precipitated into the sea, and, after making ineffectual struggles to save himself, to give up all for lost-should lie at this crisis perceive a boat approaching, and a friendly hand extended for his rescue, he would, at first, scarcely credit his senses, or realize tllat he was safe; his joy would be so great, and his gratitude to his preserver so ardent. But after the first transports had subsided, he would feel more real pleasure in contemplating the vessel, in admiring the wisdom apparent in its construction, and its admirable adaptedness for saving from death all who were in his late situation, than he would when he viewed it merely as the means of saving his own life. So the sinner, when he first finds himself rescued from EDWARD PAYSON. 265 destruction, is full of love to Christ for his peculiar and unmerited mercy to himself. But as he increases in knowledge and Christian attainments, has clearer views of the character of God, and the wisdom and grace which appear in the plan of redemption, his love has less and less of selfishness." " Suppose two persons equally desirous to gain your affections; one far distant, and not expecting to see you for a long time; the other always present with you, and at liberty to use all means to win your love, able to flatter and gratify you in a thousand ways. Still you prefer the absent one; and, that you may keep him in remembrance, you often retire by yourself to think of his love to you, and view again and again the mementos of his affection, to read his letters, and pour out your heart in return. Such is now your case; the world is always before you, to flatter, promise, and please. But if you really prefer to love God, you will fix your thoughts on him, often retire for meditation and prayer, and recount the pleasant gifts of his providence, and especially his infinite mercy to your soul; you will read frequently his holy Word. which is the letter he has sent you, as really as if it were directed to you by name." "Religion is the golden chain which God lets down from heaven, with a link for every person in this room, inviting each to take hold, that you may be drawn by it to himself. You can readily perceive how disagreeable it would be to be linked to one whom you disliked, and drawn by him whithersoever he wills; but you would gladly be drawn and guided in every thing by the person whom you ardently loved. There is this difference between the Christian and the sinner. However reluctant and full of hatred, still the sinner is controlled by God; the Christian is equally in his hands, but is drawn by the cords of love." " Christ said to Mary, Fear not; I know that you seek Jesus. If ye really seek Jesus, he says the same to you. Fear not death, sorrow, sickness, any thing. If they are thus blessed, who seek Jesus, what must those be, who have found him 3" To an inquirer, who complained that the difficulties in his VOL. I. 34 266 MEMOIR OF way increased rather than diminished, he said-" You might bind a bird with a soft, silken cord, and, while he remains still, he will not be sensible of his confinement; but as soon as he attempts to fly, he will feel the cord that confines him; and the greater his desire and his efforts to escape, the more sensible will he be of his bondage. So the sinner may long be a slave to his sins, and never be aware of it, till he rises to go to Christ." " Every person has some object which he loves supremely; and in every unrenewed man, that object is self. Suppose, for illustration, that you have an image, which is, in reality, extremely ugly, but which you think beautiful, and you spend all your time in polishing and adorning it. At length, however, you begin to see something of its deformity, but endeavor to conceal it from others, and, if possible, from yourself, by painting and dressing it. Notwithstanding all your efforts, it grows more and more ugly, till at last, in despair of amending it yourself, you pray that God would make it more lovely. It is evident in this case, that your prayers would not proceed from love to God, but from love to your idol; and, therefore, there would be no goodness in them. Suppose that, during all this time, a person was entreating you to look at a beautiful diamond statue, which you refused to do; until, wearied with useless efforts to make your image appear more beautiful, you turn and look at the statue. Immediately you see your idol in all its native deformity; you cast aside, and begin to admire and extol the statue. This idol represents self, and every unrenewed person admires and loves it supremely. When his conscience is awakened to see something of his sinfulness, he first endeavors to make himself better; and it is long before he finds that he cannot change his own heart. When he finds that, notwithstanding all his endeavors, his heart seems to grow worse and worse, he prays to God for help. It is not from love to God, or because God has commanded it, that he prays; but because he is unwilling to see himself so sinful; so that his prayers arise merely from pride and selfishness. But if he will only turn and look to Christ, he sees his sins in a new light, and no longer loves himself supremely; all his affections are transferred to Christ. He then prays to be made better, not to gratify his pride, but be EDWARD PAYSON. 267 cause he see something of the beauty of holiness, and longs to resemble his divine Master." " Suppose one man owes another a thousand pounds, but he is unable to pay the debt, and denies that he owes it. His creditor, being a very compassionate man, says to him,'I do not wish for your money, and as soon as you will own the debt to be a just one, I will release you from your obligation; but I cannot do it before, for that would be in fact acknowledging that I am in the wrong.' The poor man refuses to confess that he owes the money, and is, in consequence, sent to prison. After remaining there for a time, he sends his creditor word that he will allow he owes him a hundred pounds. But that will not do. After another interval, he says he will allow that he owes two hundred pounds; and thus he keeps gradually giving up a little more, until he gets to nine hundred; there he stops a long while. At length, finding there is no other way of escape, he acknowledges the whole debt, and is released. Still it would be free, unmerited kindness in the creditor, and the poor man would have no right to say,' I partly deserved it, because I owned the debt;' for he ought to have done that, whether he was liberated or not. Just in this manner we have treated God. When he comes and charges us with having broken his law, we deny it; we will allow, perhaps, that we deserve a slight punishment, but not all which God has threatened. But if we are ever to be saved, God comes, and, as it were, shuts us up in prison; that is, he awakens our consciences, and sends his Spirit to convince us of sin. Thus we every day see more and more of the desperate wickedness of our hearts, until we are ready to allow that we have deserved eternal condemnation. As soon as we acknowledge this, God is ready to pardon us; but it is evident that we do not deserve pardon, that he is not under the least obligation to bestow it, and that all, who are saved, are saved through free, unmerited grace." "One excuse which awakened sinners are accustomed to allege in their own defence, is, that they wish to love God, and to have new hearts, but cannot. They do indeed wish to be saved, but they are not willing to be saved in God's way; that is, they are not willing to accept salvation as a free gift. They 268'MEMOIR OF would do any thing to buy it, but will not take it without money and without price. Suppose that you were very sick, and were told by the physician, that there was but one medicine inl the world which could save your life, and that this was exceedingly precious. You were also told that there was but one person in the world who had any of this in his possession; and that, although he was willing to give it to those who asked, he would, on no account, sell any. Suppose this person to be one whom you had treated with great neglect and contempt, injured in every possible way. How exceedingly unwilling would you be to send to him for the medicine as a gift! You would rather purchase it at the expense of your whole fortune. You would defer sending as long as possible, and, when you found that you were daily growing worse, and nothing else could save you, you would be obliged, however reluctantly, to send and ask for some. Just so unwilling are sinners to apply to God for salvation, as a free gift; and they will not do it until they find themselves perishing, and that there is no other hope for them." " The young convert, in judging of the reality of his conversion, generally lays much stress upon having a great deal of joy; and regards that as a very decisive proof that he is a disciple of Christ. But this is one of the most fallacious proofs, and no dependence ought to be placed on it. It is not desirable, at first, to have full assurance of our salvation, for our love is then weak; and some degree of fear is likewise necessary to keep us near to Christ.": Suppose a child accidentally falls into a pit, and when some person comes to help him out, instead of thankfully accepting the offer, he says,' No; I will not have you to help me out; I wish some one else to assist me.' He is told by his father, that he shall not be assisted by any other person. Yet he still prefers remaining in the pit to accepting that person's offer. Does it not indicate strong aversion to him? Yet it is precisely thus that the sinner treats Christ. He is exposed to danger, from which none but Christ can deliver him. Yet, rather than accept his assistance, he tries every other method again and again; and when he finds all his efforts unsuccessful, he prac EDWARD PAYSON. 269 tically says,'I had rather perish than be saved by Christ.' How justly might the Saviour take him at his word, and leave him to perish! " "The manner in which people obtain a false hope is generally this: they first believe that God is reconciled to them, and then are reconciled to him on that account; but if they thought that God was still displeased with, and determined to punish them, they would find their enmity to him revive. On the contrary, the Christian is reconciled because he sees the holiness of the law which he has broken, and God's justice in punishing him; he takes part with. God against himself, cordially submits to him, and this when he expects condemnation. He is reconciled, because he is pleased with the character of God; the false convert, because he hopes God is pleased with him." " It is morally impossible for God to pardon sinners without repentance. The moment he should do it, he would cease to be a perfectly holy being; of course, all the songs of heaven would stop, and all the happiness of the universe be dried up. In his conduct, he is governed by a regard to the good of the whole. If a sovereign, out of false pity to criminals, should pardon them indiscriminately, he would thus destroy the happiness of all his faithful subjects, and introduce misery and confusion into his kingdom. But infinitely worse consequences would ensue, if God should neglect to punish those who transgress his law. His vast dominions would become one universal scene of anarchy and confusion; happiness would be banished forever; and misery, in its most aggravated forms, would prevail throughout the universe. Yet all this the sinner would think ought to be endured, rather than that he should be obliged to repent of his sins." " Young converts generally suppose that it is their strong faith, which enables them to go to God, and ask to be forgiven, without much fear or hesitation; but faith has less to do with it than they imagine. It is because they see little of their own sinfulness and God's hatred of sin. If they had clear views of these truths, they would find their weak faith very insufficient to induce them to go to Christ. Suppose a man, who had never 270 MEMOIR OF seen fire, and who knew its effects only by report, should be told that at a certain distant period, he would be obliged to pass through a fire. He is told, also, that there is but one kind of garment that can protect him from its influence. A person gives him this robe, and although it appears to him very thin and flimsy, yet he feels very well satisfied with it before he has seen the fire. But when the destined time arrives, apd he sees the fire blazing out and consuming every thing within its reach, his confidence fails. At first, a small degree of faith enables the Christian to go to God; but as he advances in the knowledge of his own heart, and God's hatred of sin, his faith must also be increased, to enable him to approach his heavenly Father with confidence." "The young convert may be compared to a child, whom his father is leading over a rugged and uneven path. After proceeding for some time without much difficulty, he forgets that it has been owing to his father's assistance —begins to think that he may now venture to walk by himself, and consequently falls. Humbled and dejected, he then feels his own weakness, and clings to his father for support. Soon, however, elated with his progress, he again forgets the kind hand which sustains him, fancies he needs no more assistance, and again falls. This process is repeated a thousand times in the course of the Christian's experience, till he learns, at length, that his own strength is perfect weakness, and that he must depend solely on his heavenly Father." "To assist you in estimating the criminality of sin, suppose that you had. committed the first sin-that, before you were born, such a thing had never been heard or thought of; but that all beings had united in loving and serving God, till, all at once you started up, and began to disobey his commands. What a commotion would be excited! Instantly the news would spread through heaven and earth, with inconceivable rapidity, and all ranks and orders of beings would join in exclaiming, It cannot be! Where is the wretch, who would dare to disobey Jehovah?' Suppose, then, that you were obliged to come forward and stand in the view of the assembled universe of myriads of sinless beings, who all regarded you EDWARD PAYSON. 271 wvitll feelings of astonishment, orror, detestation, too strong for utterance. How inexpressibly dreadful would sin appear in this point of view! And yet it is, in reality, just as dreadful and as criminal to sin now, as if no sin had ever been committed by another." "The difference between true and false religion may be thus illustrated. Suppose a king visits two families of his subjects. The members of one think it great condescension in him to visit them: they show him every possible -mark of affection and respect, and they are filled with regret and unhappiness at his departure. The other family have no real love for him, and though self-interest prompts them to show him every external mark of respect, yet it is constrained, and they are glad when he departs. Now, if this king could read the heart, and saw that their services were insincere, he could not, of course, be pleased; and the more assiduous they were in their attentions, if prompted wholly by self-interest, the more would he be disgusted. In the same manner, when God, by his Spirit, visits the true Christian, it fills him with joy and gladness; his presence is life; and when he hides his face, nothing can afford pleasure or satisfaction. But when thoughts of God enter the mind of the sinner, he feels uneasy, and tries to get rid of them. He may, from selfish motives, affect to seek God; but his heart is riot in it, and he longs after the pleasures of the world. This is the way in which all awakened, yet impenitent sinners seek God; and yet they are displeased because he will not accept such heartless services." "We are apt to feel as if, by our prayers, we laid God under obligation to save us; as if our feeble, imperfect services were'profitable to him.' Suppose a poor beggar should say of some rich nobleman,'He is under great obligations to me;' and, when asked,' Why' —should answer,'I have been every day, for a great many years, and told him a long story of my wants, and asked him to help me.' You can see how absurd this appears; and yet it is precisely similar to our conduct, except, indeed, that ours is much more absurd, because the disparity between God and us is infinitely greater than can exist between any two mortals." 272 M E MOIR OF "a'When sinners have been awakened to see their guilt and danger, and are invited to come to Christ and be saved, they frequently make such excuses as these-' I cannot believe that the invitations of the gospel were intended for such sinners as I am; I am afraid I do not feel right, and that Christ will not receive me.' Suppose a table set in the street, and loaded with all kinds of food; and that a herald is sent to make proclamation, that all who wish may come and partake freely. A poor man comes, and stands looking very wishfully at the table; and, when he is asked why he does not eat, replies -' O, I am afraid the invitation is not meant for me; I am not fit.' Again he is assured that the invitation is intended for all those who are hungry, and that no other qualification is necessary. Still he objects-I But I am afraid I am not hungry enough.' In the same way do sinners deprive themselves, by their own folly, of those blessings which are freely offered them by their Creator." "Suppose the rebellious subjects of a very wise and good king condemned to death. The king has a son, who, from compassion to these poor wretches, offers to make satisfaction to his father for their crimes, if he will pardon them, The king consents on one condition. He places his son at the door of his palace, and makes proclamation, that every one who comes to him for pardon, and is led in by hi? son, shall be forgiven for his sake. One of the culprits comes, and rejecting the proffered hand of the prince, rushes to the throne himself. Can this man expect mercy? Thus God has provided a Mediator, and commanded all to approach in his name; and none can expect to be received, who do not come to God in this appointed way." " One mark of a true convert is, that he continues to repent of his sins, after he hopes that they are pardoned. All that the hypocrite desires, is salvation from punishment; and when he thinks this end secured, he feels no concern respecting his sins. But the true Christian desires to be saved from sin; and his hatred of sin, and repentance for it, increase in proportion as his assurance of heaven increases. Another mark is, that all disposition to make excuses is taken away. The repentant sin EDWARD PAYSON. 273 ner feels willing to lie at God's feet, and confess his sins, without even wishing to excuse them." "It evinces more depravity not to repent of a sin, than it does to commit it at first. A good man may be hurried away by temptation to commit a sin, but he will invariably repent of it afterwards. To deny, as Peter did, is bad; but not to weep bitterly as he did, when we have denied, is worse." " We may have the form of godliness without the power; but it is impossible to have the power without the form." " The promises in the Bible to prayer are not made to one act, but to the continued habit, of prayer." VOL. I. 35 CHAPTER XV. The same subject-Bible class-Pastoral visits-Social parties-Special and casual interviews-Chalrm of his conversation-Singular recounterWhence his competency-His publications. IF there is a spectacle on earth peculiarly animating to the thoughtful Christian, who waits and prays for the salvation of God, it is the faithful, affectionate pastor, with the Bible in his hand, surrounded by the lambs of his flock," and leading them into " green pastures, and beside the still waters." It cannot be witnessed without a thrill of unusual delight, and anticipations of the most cheering character. There may be more of immediate personal enjoyment in the communion of saints, and in that foretaste of an eternal feast, which is granted to the redeemed of the Lord, when, gathered around the sacramental board, they glory in the cross, and celebrate the love of Him who died on it, and their faith anticipates the hour when they " shall see Him as he is," and come to the heavenly Zion, and commence their everlasting song. But the same principle, which causes "joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, who need no repentance," is eminently a principle of benevolence, which is gratified with every prospect of increase to the " great multitude whom no man can number;" and it is called into action, and operates with no ordinary effect, in view of a collection of youth, grouped around their beloved spiritual teacher, engaged in investigating the truths of the Bible, and ascertaining the duties which it enjoins. It is a sight full of hope and promise. It is not presumption to expect from it the choicest spiritual fruits which a minister is ever permitted to MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. 275 reap. It is amuong this class of his charge, that he may eminently "sow in hope." The promises of God authorize him to expect extensive and glorious results. It was upon the youth that Mr. Payson expended some of his best exertions; and these labors brought him a "h larvest of golden sheaves." His heart was drawn towards the rising generation, and meditated various expedients for advancing their welfare. He does indeed, record and lament, among his deficiencies, the neglect of special efforts for their instruction and salvation. But, compared with what had been the ordinary standard of ministerial practice, he abounded in works of this description. Though, fiom the first, he did not fail to give them appropriate instruction, yet it was not till the latter years of his ministry, that the interesting group, who periodically gathered around him, took the designation of " Bible class;" and at that time his manner underwent a slight modification. The subjoined specimens were furnished by young persons, to whom they were blessed:A way-faring man stops at a tavern, and to beguile the time of his stay there, looks round for some book. He sees, perhaps, a newspaper, an almanac, and the Bible; but chooses to pore over either of the former, in preference to the Word of God,- thinking it hardly possible to be amused or interested in that. Even a Christian will sometimes do thus.-This is as if a man should be introduced into an apartment, in one division of which were Jesus Christ and the apostles, and in the other the most dissolute and frivolous company; and on being invited by the Saviour to sit with them and enjoy their company, should refuse, and seat himself with the others. Would not this be a most gross insult to the Saviour? and do you not equally undervalue and refuse his company, when you thus neglect and despise his holy Word,-through which he converses with you, and invites you near to himself,-and choose some foolish production instead of it?" "God holds out to you, as it were, a thread, no stronger than a spider's web, and says-'take hold of the thread; I will increase its strength, day by day, until it becomes the line of salvation to you.' So it is with the little interest you feel in the 276 M EMIOIR OF Bible class. If you cherish this, if you reflect upon what you read and hear, and daily pray to be made wise by these instructions, God will increase your interestto itsconsummation, till you become perfect ones in Christ Jesus. But if you lose your hold on this thread, you are lost." The following paragraph illustrates his manner of stating the argument, and its application-the subject before the class being the evidence from the light of nature, that there i';',L:4' Suppose, my young friends, that, in travelling through a wilderness, a spacious garden should burst upon your view: in the midst of which is a splendid palace. Upon entering it, you perceive, in every apartment, proofs of the agency of some living person, though you see no one. Complicated machinery is moving, and various operations are carried on; but still the agent, who produces these effects, is invisible. Would you be the less convinced that they were produced by some intelligent agent? And if you should be told, that the palace came there bychance, and that all the movements you witnessed were caused by no power whatever, you would regard him, who should tell you thus, either as a fool or a liar. Now, you have the same proof of the existence of God in his works, that you would have, in the case I have supposed, of the existence and presence of some invisible agent; and it is just as unreasonable to doubt of his existence, as it would be to doubt whether the palace had been built by any person, or was only the work of chance. Suppose you were informed by a writing on the wall, that the palace was inhabited or haunted by spirits, who were constantly watching your conduct, and who had power to punish you, if it displeased them; and that you were also informed, at the same time, of the course of conduct which it would be necessary to pursue, in order to obtain their approbation. How careful would you be to observe the rules and how fearful of displeasing those powerful spirits! And if you were further informed, that these were the spirits of your deceased parents, and that they were able to hear, if you addressed them, — how delightful it would be to go and tell them of your wants and sorrows, and feel sure that they listened to you with sympathy and compassion!-I tell you, my young friends, this world is EDWARD PAYSON. 277 naunted, if I may so express it, haunted by the Eternal Spirit. He has given you rules, by which to regulate your conduct, and is able to punish every deviation from them. And can you recollect that such a Being is constantly noticing your conduct, and still persist in disobeying his commands? God is also your Heavenly Father; and why can you not go to him, as such, with the same confidence which you would exercise in an earthly parent?" In explanation of the command to glorify God:-"It may seem strange and presumiptuous, to speak of such poor, sinful, worthless beings as we are, as glorifying, or as capable of glorifying God. But the perfect Christian may be compared to a perfect mirror, which, though dark and opaque of itself, being placed before the sun, reflects his whole image, and may be said to increase his glory, by increasing and scattering his light. In this view we may regard heaven, where God is perfectly glorified in his saints, as the firmament studded with ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands of mirrors, every one of them reflecting a perfect image of God, the Sun in the centre, and filling the universe with the blaze of his glory."' Whenever you feel any thing within you, my dear young friends, urging you to attend to religion, it is the Spirit of God; and if you refuse to comply, you will grieve him away. Suppose God should let down from heaven a number of very fine cords, and if any person should take hold of one, it would continue to grow larger and stronger, till at length he is drawn by it into heaven. Great care would be necessary, especially at first, not to break it; for, if once broken, it might never be renewed. How careful should we expect the person to be, to whom one of these cords was extended, not to break it, to avoid all violence, and follow wherever it led him! Just so anxiously ought you to cherish. those good impressions, which are produced on your minds by the Spirit of God; for if you once grieve him, he may never return." "Suppose a man builds a temple, with one seat in it very high and much ornamented; and another very far below it. You ask him, for whom those seats are designed, and he re 27S MEMOIR OF plies-' Why, the most elevated one is for me, and the one below it is for God.' Now in this case, you can all see the horrible absurdity and impiety of such conduct; and yet each of you, who continues impenitent, is doing this. You have given yourselves the first place in your affections; you have thought more of yourselves than of God, and have done more to please yourselves than to please God; in short, you have, in every thing, preferred yourselves before him." " Suppose there was a book, in which the whole of your life was recorded, each page of which contained the events of a day. At the beginning was written,' This is tile life of a rational, immortal, accountable creature, placed in this world to prepare for eternity.' Then commences a long catalogue of sins; every page is successively covered with blots. Besides all these, there are the sins of omission, or duties neglected, which swell to a still greater amount. There are more than fifty commands binding upon you every moment; such as, to repent, to believe, to love Christ, to watch, pray, &c., none of which you perform. Thus you commit, to say the least, fifty sins in a moment. Add to these the first mentioned class of transgressions, and, 0, what an amount of guilt does the record of each day present! At the bottom of every page, it is written - Did this person love God to-day'? No. Did he feel any gratitude for mercies? No. Did he obey any of God's commands? No. Did he perform;ny part of the work for which he was created? No." One of his most acceptable methods of communicating instruction, and exciting a religious interest, was by visits to the families of his parishioners; and, though he speaks of himself as living extempore, they will cheerfully give him credit for system in this branch of duty. It was a custom which he commenced almost simultaneously with his ministry, to give notice from the pulpit, that the families in a particular district, or street, might expect him at a given time, in the course of the following week, and to request, that, if consistent with their engagements, they would all be at home; he wished to see the family together. Accordingly, when he entered a house, he usually found all in readiness for his reception and could pro ED WNARD PAYSON. 279 ueed, without the loss of a moment, to deliver his message. The time he spent in a family did not usually exceed twenty or thirty minutes; but it was completely filled up with religious conversation and prayer. He could say much in a short time, and never failed to " divide a portion to every member," capable of receiviilg it. His "often infirmities' compelled him to relinquish this practice, and, for some years before his death, to limit his visits principally to houses of affliction. But these, in a parish comprising thousands of souls, were, necessarily, very nUlmerous. He did not decline occasional invitations to evening parties, as he had given his people to understand, that he desired none to send for him, who did not wish him to come as a minister of Christ. In this character, however, he was usually a welcome guest; for, though he was invariably serious and faithful, he was neither abrupt nor forbidding in his manner of bringing forward religious topics. The divine Model he had so diligently studied, taught him how to avail himself of passing observations and occurrences to introduce and enforce man's obligation to attend to his highest interests. He always seized the right moment to bring forward and urge his Mfaster's claims; and when he had obtained the ground, he was certain not to yield itindeed, none could wish to dispossess him. The subject which he so naturally and easily introduced, he would expatiate upon, and illustrate, and hold the listening company in fixed and solemn attention, from one to three hours. Here were witnessed some of the most enrapturing and powerful strains of his sacred eloquence. A visiting party, whose conversation was conducted by him, had all the advantage of a religious meeting in the article of instruction, and fell scarcely short in solemnity. To him it was often as laborious as a public lecture, as it regards both preparation and the exercise of speaking. He usually commenced and closed the interview by prayer. It is obvious how much such a manner of conducting social tisits must tend to cultivate and cherish a religious spirit in society. Every one has observed, that, as they are often conducted, a single visit supplies matter for a month's gossip and scandal -evils which infect not only the individuals who were present, but their families and associates. But social intercourse, conducted on Christian principles, precludes these alnd 280 MEMOIR OF similar evils, besides effecting positive good. The party separate with salutary impressions upon their minds, and carry more or less of a holy savor into their respective families. Religion becomes the subject of domestic conversation, which is rendered more intelligent and profitable by the very means which too frequently operate as a disqualification for the duty. In truth, no finite mind can trace all the happy consequences which flow from the habit of associating religion with all the intercourse and occurrences of life. That it was a leading object with him to introduce and extend this habit among his people, appears from almost every act of his official life. It accounts, in part, for his remarkable circumspection, and unfailing care, to set an example, in his own person, of doing all things to the glory of God. It was not without reference to this, probably, that he dedicated his own private dwelling to God; or rather, that, when he did this, he called in some of his neighbors to participate in the solemnities; and it was not without its influence. He was called, in his turn, to officiate on similar occasions for them. A scene of this kind is still recollected with lively interest by the members of a numerous family. In his prayer, he anticipated almost every possible circumstance in their future history with that reverent particularity, in which he was, perhaps, unrivalled; and in such select, appropriate, and vivid expressions, as gave the very walls of the habitation a tongue that has not since ceased to speak. The thought, that it is a consecrated house, is suited to check all tendencies to sinful levity. One of the events anticipated in the prayer has already taken place; and the children of the family, who now are all members of the visible church, could tell with what comforting and sustaining power it was brought home to their hearts, while surrounding the triumphant death-bed of an invaluable mother. From the most casual interview with him, the Christian could not separate without being instructed, humbled, and revived; nor the impenitent sinner, without a topic for reflection perhaps an arrow in his heart. He exemplified one of his own remarks -" Our unconverted friends should feel that our whole deportment, and even our very silence, declares that we earnestly seek their salvation." A circumstance which gave to his company one of its most EDWARD PAYSON. 281 attractive charms, was his great condescension and affability, which entirely relieved the interlocutors of all embarrassment. No matter how awkwardly or defectively they expressed their difficulties, or proposed their queries-it was enough for him that he knew their meaning. He took no advantage of these defects, to mortify them and show off his own superiority; he never asked them to repeat and " define precisely what they wanted," -a chilling practice with some affectedly wise and accurate men, which must effectually silence the weak and illiterate, and cut off from them all hope of improvement:-he took this labor lupon himself. If he perceived them in danger of embarrassment, he would interpose and help them out. The most broken and imperfect expressions were sufficient to indicate to him the exact wants and feelings of the speaker. So truly was this the case, that his knowledge of others' thoughts would appear to a witness almost intuitive; and he was equally prompt to apply the appropriate counsel. It was from ignorance of his power of perception, in this respect, that some have spoken of his inquiry meetings, during the latter half of his ministry, as more properly entitled to the appellations of lectures, or meetings for exhortation. But his remarks were as really predicated on the known states of mind in the assembly, as they ever are in any inquiry meeting, however conducted. The truth is, besides watching the individual characters of his charge for years, he had so thoroughly studied the moral and spiritual nature of man, in connexion with the Scriptures, that he could distinguish the symptoms which indicate the state of the heart, with as much readiness and certainty, as the most skilful physician can those of bodily disease. It was not to man in one attitude or situation only, that he could adapt himself, but to men in all situations, and of every variety of rank and character, and every degree of intellectual culture. A bereaved husband, in another town, to whom he was known only by report, but whose wife's obsequies he providentially attended, inquired, some time after the funeral, if Mr. Payson had married a second wife,-inferring, from his prayer, that he knew, experimentally, the feelings inseparable from a state of widowhood. The following imperfectly described rencounter with a lawyer of Portland, who ranked among the first in the place for wealth, VOL. i. 36 282 MEMOIR OF and was very fluent withali will serve to show Mr. Payson's insight into character, and his power to mould it to what form he pleased, and, at the same time, prove, what might be confirmed by many other instances, that his conquests were not confined to " weak women and children:"A lady, who was the common friend of Mrs. Payson and the lawyer's wife, was sojourning in the family of the latter. After the females of the respective families had interchanged several " calls," Mrs. was desirous of receiving a formal visit from Mrs. Payson; but, to effect this, Mr. Payson must also be invited; and how to prevail with her husband to tender an invitation, was the great difficulty. He had been accustomed to associate experimental religion with meanness, and, of course, felt or affected great contempt for Mr. Payson, as if it were impossible for a man of his religion to be also a man of talents. He knew, by report, something of Mr. Payson's practice on such occasions, and, dreading to have his house the scene of what appeared to him a gloomy interview, resisted his wife's proposal as long as he could and retain the character of a gentleman. When he gave his consent, it was with the positive determination that Mr. Payson should not converse on religion, nor ask a blessing over his food, nor offer a prayer in his house. He collected his forces, and made his preparation, in conformity with this purpose, and, when the appointed day arrived, received his guests very pleasantly, and entered, at once, into animated conversation, determined, by obtruding his own favorite topics, to forestall the divine. It was not long before the latter discovered his object, and summoned together his powers to defeat it. He plied them with that skill and address for which he was remarkable; still, for some time, victory inclined to neither side, or to both alternately. The lawyer, not long before, had returned from Washington city, where he had spent several weeks on business at the supreme court of the United States. Mr. Payson instituted some inquiries respecting sundry personages there, and, among others, the chaplainof the house of representatives. The counsellor had heard him perform the devotional services in that assembly. " How did you like him?"-" Not at all; he appeared to have more regard to those around him than he did to his Maker."-Mr. Payson was very happy to see him recogniize the distinction between praying to God, and praying to be EDWARD PAYSON. 283 heard of men, and let fall a series of weighty observations on prayer, passing into a strain of remark, which, without taking the form, had all the effect, on the lawyer's conscience, of a personal application. From a topic so unwelcome, he strove to divert the conversation, and, every few minutes. would start somiethino as wide from it as the east is from the west. But, as often as he wandered, his guest would dexterously, and without violence, bring him back; and, as often as he was brought back, he would wander again. At length the trying moment which was to turn the scale arrived. The time for the evening repast had come; a servant had entered with the tea and its accompaniments; the master of the feast became unusually eloquent. resolved to engross the conversation, to hear no question or reply, to allow no interval for " grace," and to give no indication by the eye, the hand, or the lips, that he expected or wished for such a service. Just as the distribution was on the very point of commencing, Mr. Payson interposed the question-" What writer has said the devil invented the fashion of carrying round tea, to prevent a blessing being asked?" Our host felt himself " cornered;" but, making a virtue of necessity, promptly replied-" I don't know what writer it is; but, if you please, we will foil the devil this time;-Will you ask a blessing, sir?"-A blessing, of course, was asked, and he brooked, as well as he could, this first certain defeat, still resolved not to sustain another by the offering of thanks on closing the repast. But in this, too, he was disappointed. By some well-timed sentiment of his reverend guest, he was brought into such a dilemma, that he could not, without absolute rudeness, decline asking him to return thanks. And thus he contested every inch of his ground, till the visit terminated. But, at every stage, the minister proved too much for the lawyer. He sustained his character as a minister of religion, and gained his point in every thing; and that, too, with so admirable a tact, in a way so natural and unconstrained, and with such respectful deference to his host, that the latter could not be displeased, except with himself. Mr. Payson not only acknowledged God on the reception of food, but read the Scriptures and prayed before separating from the family-and did it, too, at the request of the master, though this request was made, in every successive instance. in violation of a fixed purpose. The chagrin of this 284 E IOI OF 0 F disappointment, however, eventu.ally became the occasion of his greatest joy. His mind was never entirely at ease till he found peace in believing. Often did he revert, with devout thankfulness to God, to the visit which had occasioned his mortification, and ever after regarded, with more than common veneration and respect, the servant of God, whom he had once despised, and was glad to receive his ministrations in exchange for those on which he had formerly attended. His knowledge was not, as many have supposed, limited chiefly to theology. He was familiar, beyond what is common, with the whole circle of the sciences-so much so that eminent men, of the different professions, who have incidentally met with him, without knowing who he was, have, for the first half hour of their conversation, mistaken him for one of their own class. By physicians he has been thought a physician, and a lawyer by lawyers; and even the experienced senator has found him an invincible antagonist, on ground which his profession merely would not require him to assume. He never ceased to add to his stock of knowledge; and his intelligent manner of conversing, on any topic whatever, would excite less of wonder, if the amount of his reading were known. He was a subscriber for Ree's Cyclopedia, and read the numbers, generally throughout, as they successively issued from the press. He has been reputed a great novel reader; but this report, as it would be naturally understood, misrepresents him. He expended little money or time on books of this class, after having turned his attention to the ministry. He knew something of every fictitious work which was introduced into the place; but this knowledge was gained, perhaps, in an hour's time, in some retired corner of a book-store, which was kept by one of his parish. He had good reasons for knowing what kind of books circulated among his people, and especially if any of them were immoral in their tendency. If he read them on his own account, it was for mere relaxation, from which his vigorous and wellbalanced mind derived strength and freshness for more solid pursuits. His own views of a proper course of reading to be pursued by a Christian -were once given, extempore, in conversation, from which it will be seen, that novels have, at most, but a very dubious place: — EDW A D PAYSON. 285' It may be proper, and perhaps advantageous, for a Christian to read, sparingly, works of taste. Some knowledge of the philosophy of the mind is desirable, and may be obtained without very great expense of time. Church history, and a knowledge of ancient Eastern customs, will be very useful. Every kind of knowledge which expands, strengthens, and adorns the mind, may be properly sought by the Christian, and ought to be sought by every Christian who has leisure and opportunity for reading. Our aim in seeking it, should be to qualify ourselves to serve and glorify God more effectually, and to increase our power of being useful to our fellow-creatures. It is an old remark, that'knowledge is power.' To increase our knowledge, then, is to increase our powerof doing good. Highly as I prize such writers as Fenelon, Kempis, &c., I am convinced we may study them, not, perhaps, too much, but too exclusively. We may study them to the exclusion of other writers, whose works demand our attention; and we may be so intent upon watching our feelings, as to forget to watch our words and actions. As some are content with a religion which is all body, so others may aim at a religion which is all soul; but religion has a body, as well as a soul. If some think it sufficient to cleanse the outside of the cup, others may be so much occupied in cleansing it within, as to forget that it has an outside. Both deserve attention. " The press, which is, with some, their principal means of usefulness, was very little employed by Mr. Payson. He cherished a very low estimate of his own qualities as a writer, and could rarely be persuaded to submit a production for publication. To a request, from a maternal association in Boston, for the copy of a sermon of a specified character, he replied-"It would gratify me exceedingly to comply with the request. There is no honor, no favor, that God can bestow, which I should prize more highly than that of doing good with my pen —of leaving something behind me to speak for Christ when I am silent in dust. But this honor, He who distributes his gifts to every man as he will, does not see fit to grant me. My sermons will not bear perusal. I must resign the privilege of doing good with the pen to those who are more able." He certainly undervalued himself as a writer, or else the Christian public have widely 286 MEMOIR OF erred in their estimation of the very few publications to which, during his life time, he consented. His discourse before the Bible Society of Maine, in 1814, was the first which he suffered to go to press; and the myriads of copies, which have been put in circulation, show in what manner it is appreciated. And yet, while correcting the press, he says of it -"It seemed so flat, I would have given any thing to recall it from the press." The success of this sermon is a good comment on the secret history of its origin:"MAY 2, 1814. Monday. Was so much exhausted, that I could scarcely move. Made a few visits. Tried to write; but felt that I could as soon make a world as write a sermon for Thursday, without special divine assistance. "MAY 3. Was employed all the forenoon in preparing a sermon to be preached before the Bible Society. Felt that I was utterly incapable of it, and that if I was enabled to write one, the glory -would not be mine. Prayed for assistance with a strong hope of obtaining it. Made a few visits. "'MAY 4. Was employed upon my sermon, and was favored with considerable assistance. Felt, I hope, some thankfulness. But all my prayers for assistance; as well as my thankfulness for it, are so mixed with selfishness, that they are worse than nothing. In the afternoon, attended the funeral of my oldest deacon. Wished to be suitably affected, and to see others so. Found a large concourse of people assembled, made a few observations to them, but was much straitened. "MAY 5. Completed my sermon. Felt much dissatisfied with it. Prayed that it might be blessed to convey more to the minds of others than it did to my own. In the evening, preached; a most oppressive air, and I spoke with difficulty. Concluded, from observations made after meeting, that the sermon might have done some good; if so, to God belongs all the glory, and to him may I be enabled to ascribe it." "PORTLAND, MAY 24, 1814. "Not long after you receive this, you may expect a letter in print: that is to say, a discourse, which I have been compelled, sadly against my will, to give into the hands of the printer. It is a discourse lately delivered before the Bible Society. Fifteen EDWARD PAYSON. 287 hundred copies were subscribed for, and a promise made, that the profits should go to purchase Bibles. Finding that the profits would be sufficient to purchase, at least, one hundred and fifty Bibles, I could not in conscience refuse. So, as soon as it comes from the press, which will be in a very few days, you will probably receive one. Do, my dear parents, pray, pray earnestly for the poor orphan, that it may do good in the world. I have never been assisted to pray so much for any one sermon as this; and that encouraged me to let it see the light. If it never does any other good, it will be the means of giving the Bible to many who would otherwise remain without it." A very excellent Thanksgiving Sermon was also given to the public in 1820, for a similar reason, viz. a promise, which was amply fulfilled, that it should be made to produce something for missionary purposes. His "Address to Seamen" was the next in order of his publications. Men, affecting considerable pretensions to literature, have been heard to speak of this production as a gross violation of good taste. But the author knew his object, and the way in which he could best accomplish it. He was not writing an oration for the alumni of a college, nor an article for a Quarterly Review, nor a "pretty discourse" for a fashionable auditory, but an address to seamen. He had enjoyed more than common advantages for studying the character of this class of his fellow men, and understood their vocabulary almost as well as themselves-so well, that an experienced sea-captain was able to detect, in the whole address, but a single nautical term whose application involved a misconception of its use. As a model, it would be dangerous to imitate it-the attempt, indeod, would be ridiculous. But if it is not a good address, the public is strangely erroneous in its "taste," and the effect which it produced, not only on its hearers, but on its readers, far and wide, is wholly unaccountable. Its popularity, from the very first, has been unrivalled by any thing of its kind. Copies of it have been multiplied to an extent past computation. It has been translated into some of the languages of the old world, and pretty extensively circulated on the coasts of the Mediterranean, 28S8 M EMIOIR OF from the press at Malta. And, if report be true, some divines of the mother country have not thought it disgraceful to claim a parental relation to it. Still it was no labored production; it was happily conceived, but the author does not appear to have laid himself out to produce any thing very extraordinary. It was thrown off almost at a sitting, and at a time when he was " encompassed with infirmities," and heavily pressed by other labors. This is evident from his private record:" OCT. 22, 23, 1821. Very unwell these two days. Could do nothing, although I have four sermons to prepare this week. Was, for a moment, tempted to murmur; but the recollection of God's past kindness and faithfulness prevented me, and caused faith to revive. " OCT. 24. Was better to-day; and wrote almost the whole of an address to seamen, to be delivered Sabbath evening. Felt some degree of gratitude, and resolved never to refuse to improve any opportunity of doing good because I seemed not to have time for it. " OCT. 25. Was furnished with a suitable text and sermon for this evening, without much labor. How graciously and wisely does God deal with me! How much I ought to love and trust him! Tried to preach my sermon to myself. Went to the house of God in much such a frame as I should wish' to go; but had no assistance in preaching, and got through with difficulty. But felt satisfied that it should be so, and was enabled to rejoice in the Lord. " OCT. 26. Was assisted to-day in writing, and had a precious season in prayer. "OCT. 27. Sick to-day —a violent head-ache, with some fever. Did not see how I could complete my preparation for to-morrow, but felt satisfied and easy. Saw it was best I should have some rebuff; took courage from it, and hope that God meant to bless my labors to-morrow. In the evening, wrote considerable, notwithstanding my head-ache; and, after I retired, was almost painfully happy, rejoicing in God with joy unspeakable and full of glory. "OCT. 28. Sabbath. Some better this morning. Finished a sermon for the afternoon, on increasing in the knowledge of God. Was almost insupportably happy, and could hardly re EDWARD PAYSON. 289 frain from shouting aloud for joy. Was assisted in praying for others; yet had no assistance in public prayer or preaching. In the evening, preached to seamen an overflowing house; aisles and pulpit stairs full, and hundreds went away who could not get in. Was enabled to go through tolerably. As soon as I came down, was beset so importunately for a copy for the press, that I could not refuse.' "PORTLAND, NOV. 25, 1821. " My Address to Seamen is published, and I shall send you one with this. They have printed nine thousand copies; three thousand in the sermon form, and six thousand in the form of a tract. They mean to send' them to every seaport in the United States. I know you will pray that a blessing may go with it. It produced a great effect upon seamen and others for a time but I do not know that any have been really awakened by it. One hundred and forty sailors applied, the next day, for Bibles, most of whom paid for them. I could not but wonder to see God work by it. I had only ten days' notice, and, during that time, had to prepare and preach six sermons, besides the Address, and another sermon which I did not preach." " DEC. 26. "If I do not feel thankful for any other favor which God gives me, I do feel some gratitude when he enables me to do any thing which gives pleasure to the heart of my mother. if you were dead, one half the gratification I feel, when I publish any thing which is well received, would be gone. I should also lose one half of my hopes, that any thing I publish will do good; for I build my hopes very much on your prayers for a blessing. I suppose you or H. sent me the Keene paper, which contains my Address. It has been published in two other papers, and in a Baptist Magazine at Boston; and I have just received a letter from Professor P.'s wife, at -, in behalf of a number of ladies there, who wish to publish a large edition, in the form of a tract. I have requested our church to pray that a blessing may go with it, and I doubt not you will continue to pray. If it does any good, it will be owing to prayer." His other publication was a sermon, preached before the Marine Bible Society of Boston," entitled " The Oracles of VOL. I. 37 290 M E MOIR OF ED WA AR D PAYSON. God" —a much more labored prodluction than either of his other published discourses, and yet, for some cause, it has been far less popular. Besides these, he furnished one or two manuscript sermons for the National Preacher, which appeared soon after his decease. CHAPTER XVI. His exertions without the bounds of his parish - Influence on his ministerial associates; in resuscitating and edifying other churches - Visits "The Springs"-Effect of his example, conversation, and prayers on other visitors-Excursions in behalf of charitable societies Translation of ministers - He is invited to Boston and New York. IT is not easy to estimate the usefulness of a man in public life, whose numerous relations bring him into contact with his fellow men, in a great variety of circumstances. A minister of the gospel, especially at this day, is not an insulated individual, whose influence is limited by parochial bounds. His presence, counsel, example, prayers, give shape, tone, direction, energy, to public institutions for enlightening the human species, alleviating its sufferings, and extending the empire of holiness. It is, indeed, no slight honor to be permitted to feed and build up a single branch of the church of God. To see the number of believers multiplied, and converted sinners joining themselves to the people of God, as the fruit of his labors, is an adequate reward for the pastor's most arduous toils, and for all the solicitude, with which his anxious bosom is afflicted. And yet the increase and edification of his own particular charge may be only a small part of the good which is to be traced, more or less directly, to his instrumentality. The many hundreds, to whom Mr. Payson's labors were blessed in the place of his residence, and whom it was his happiness to welcome to the church under his special supervision, are only a part, and may be found, a small part, of the gems which will embellish his crown of rejoicing in the day of the Lord. To ascertain the whole amount 292 MEMOIR OF of his usefulness, we must know the nature and degree of his influence upon his fellow laborers in the ministry,-the effect of his occasional labors in different and distant parts of the country, his agency in raising the tone of piety in all the churches which could be reached by his influence, the results of his powerful pleadings in behalf of religious and charitable enterprises, of his counsel in ecclesiastical concerns, and as one of the guardians of the principal seminary of learning in Maine,-all, in short, that flowed from his conscientious and ever watchful regard, wherever he was, and with whomsoever he met, to the apostolical precept-" Consider one another, to provoke unto love and to good works." It is not intended here to give him a character at the expense of his brethren, or to introduce their names as a foil to his excellences. Such comparisons are always invidious: and, besides, where many are associated in the same cause, it is difficult, indeed impossible, to define the precise degree of influence which ought to be ascribed to each; though all, probably, will admit Mr. Payson's claim to a large share; and not a few, on reviewing the past, will see, in the exigencies of the churches in this region, and in the existing standard of ministerial disinterestedness and zeal, causes of thankfulness to that gracious Providence which raised up and sent such a man among them. His presence in the ministerial association to which he belonged, though often prevented by the frequent recurrence of his agonizing " head-ache," and by duties at home, which he could not dispense with, was highly valued by a majority of his brethren. He was a strong advocate for devoting the first part of the time occupied by such meetings, to social prayer. Prayer was his own preparation for every duty; and he felt it to be equally important, that it should be a common preparation for a social duty. When on a council for the ordination of a minister, he was always on the watch for some interval of time, to be consecrated to united prayer, with particular reference to the occasion and its consequences. In ministers' meetings, whether the immediate object were mutual edification, or a solution were requested of cases of conscience, and other difficulties which often arise in the discharge of the sacred office, or trying cases of discipline were presented for advisement, he was always ready to speak in his turn, and always spoke to the purpose. A topic EDWARD PAYSON. 293 seldom passed him without fresh elucidation. Any proposition, which bore the least trace of a time-serving policy, or mere worldly wisdom, he would instantly discountenance. The writer has known him to do this, at once and effectually, by a very few words of his own, pointed with one of Witherspoon's " Characteristics." He occasionally performed services for other parishes, of most auspicious bearing on the cause of religion; services which thousands have regretted that his health and engagements would not permit him to repeat. The nature of the services alluded to will be seen by an extract:"PORTLAND, JAN. 7, 1814. " MY DEAR MOTHER:-Not long after your return, I went to, a town about forty miles from this, on a week's missionary excursion. They are in a wretched state-have had no settled minister for seven years. The only minister they ever had proved an intemperate man. He is still living in the place, and does all he can to prejudice the people against the gospel and all who preach it. Before I proceed, I must take a little shame to myself, that God's goodness may appear more conspicuous. I commenced my ride by going to G., to obtain Mr. H. to preach for me during my absence. The next morning, it stormed violently; then I began to repent of my undertaking. However, I was ashamed to go back; so on I went in the storm. I was tolerably good-natured the first part of the day, but the storm and the road grew worse and worse. First it was all mire and clay, then nothing but hills and stones. I began to grow cross. Every bad jolt made me worse, till I felt as bad as Jonah did, and was ready to say with him-' I do well to be angry.' Being in this frame, I concluded, of course, that I should do no good, wished myself at home a thousand times, and more than half resolved that I would never have anything to do with a missionary tour again. However, I arrived safe and began my labors, and soon found that I was not laboring alone. I cannot go into particulars. Suffice it to say, that in no place, not even in Portland, have I ever seen so much of God's power displayed, in the same space of time, as during the six days I. spent in -. I preached six times, and made between forty and fifty family visits. Many were awakened 294 MEM OIR OF almost all were solemn. One old man of seventy, among ihe wealthiest in the place, who has always been against doing any thing towards the settlement of a minister, was very deeply impressed, and has promised to give three hundred dollars towards a fund. Two others will give three hundred more each. I was obliged to return home, on account of church fast and communion; but they have sent for me to come up again, and next week, Providence permitting, I shall go. Thus was I shamed and confounded by God's goodness. This is not all. I came home thoroughly drenched by the shower of divine influences, which began to fall at, and soon found that the cloud had followed me, and was beginning to pour itself down upon my people. Instead of a fast, we appointed a season of thanksgiving. A blessing seemed to follow it. I then invited the young men of the parish to come to my house, on Sabbath evening, for religious purposes. The church thought none would come. I expected twenty at most. The first evening forty came; the second, sixty: and the third, seventy. This was the last Sabbath. Six stopped, after the rest were dismissed, to converse more particularly respecting divine things. About thirty persons are known to be seriously inquiring, and there is every appearance that the work is spreading. Meanwhile, I am so ashamed, so rejoiced, and so astonished, to see what God is doing, that I can scarcely get an hour's sleep." No account of his second visit has been preserved. The hopes, however, which had been excited by his first, were not disappointed. The change, which then commenced, prevailed, and was permanent. In the following spring, a candidate, who had completed his preparation for the ministry under Mr. Payson's instruction, visited the place, and, during his first week, " found ten persons who entertained a hope, and heard of others and, in sixteen families whom he had visited, more or less were inquiring, and, in some instances, whole families. Religion was almost exclusively the topic of conversation, and the whole society appeared solemn. The subscriptions to a fund, for the support of a Calvinistic minister of the gospel, had amounted to three or four thousand dollars.' This young preacher soon became the established minister of tie place. Such were the results of one short missionary excursion. E I) WA II 1) PAYS ON. 295 About three years later, by particular request, lie spent a week in anotler town, where some religious attention had commenced. It was a season of great solemnity. At his suggestion, the church assembled and renewed their covenant, whose bonds, for a. long time, had been but little felt. Their pastor led the way by acknowledging his deficiencies, and then imploring forgiveness and strength for time to come, renewed his engagements to the Lord and his people. His wife followed Iis examIle, and was succeeded by the members of the church. D)uring this visit, Mr. Payson preached thirteen sermons, besides attending the less public meetings, and conversing with inquirers and the impenitent, and yet he was scarcely sensible of fatigue till he left the spot. He " was so happy, tlhat he thought he might have exerted himself till he expired, without knowing that he needed rest." Of five persons, the fruits of this revival, who were propounded to the church at one time, four were above seventy years of age. A service, not very dissimilar in kind, he once performed for several churches in his own neighborhood, as one of a committee of the Cumberland conference, much to their acceptance, and, it is hoped, to their spiritual advantage. During his public life, Mr. Payson made several journeys to the springs at Ballston and Saratoga, for the recovery of llis wasted health. The lmixed characters, collected together at this place of fashionable resort, found him the judicious and earnest advocate of his Master's cause. Here lhe was no less bent on the rulli1ng purpose of his heart, than when at home, among his own favorite flock. A visitor from another state, who took lodgings in the same house with himself, and preserved some of his remarks and topics of discourse, testifies that it was Mr. Payson's usual practice, in the evening, to read the Scriptures at a stated hour, and offer prayer, which was attended by most of the family and boarders, and to spend a half hour, after prayer, in religious conversation with all who were disposed to remain. He always found many willing to hear, and the number continually increased. He observed to the visitor above alluded to, that the time spent at the springs would not appear so much like a blank, if he should be permitted to do any thing for tle cause of Christ. This privilege was granted him; for many left that boarding-house with deep religious 2!6 M E\ol 0 1 OF impressiolls, produiced through his inlstrumelntality. One young man, who had resolved on findinlg new lodgings, because tlere was "so much praying" where lie was, became the subject of deep conviction, the very evening lie expressed such. a determination. The gentleman, on whose authority these facts are stated, observes of his prayers-" They contain a great deal of instruction, as well as devotion. He has a happy faculty of making his prayers preach." Yet, while his conversation and prayers were so impressive, and so full of instruction to others, he mourns over his own dulness, as though " the waters had washed every idea out of his head, and every feeling out of his heart." The events alluded to in the foregoing paragraph, occurred in S115. Of the impression produced by a subsequent visit, some idea may be formed from the following letter, addressed to the compiler: " EAST WINDSOR, CONN., Nov. 2, 1829. " On his way to Niagara, Dr. Payson called at my house, putrposing to rest awhile, and try the benefit of the waters. I had heard much of this excellent man, but never saw him till this time; and the impression he made on my mind, at this first interview, will not soon be forgotten. I was struck with the perfect simplicity and great dignity of his manners. His countenance was' care-worn,' and he had the appearance of one sinking under the load of human infirmities, and sighing for rest.' Speaking of his trials on one occasion, he observed to mel'I have needed, ail along, to be under the discipline of' Heaven: for nothing else could have kept me humble, and saved me fiom perdition. I have ever been prone to depart from God, and have been kept only by a constant effort of his love. It seems to me if God had not continually held the rod over me, and hedged up my wqay, I should have escaped firom his hands, and been forever separated from his love.' —1 expected, in answer to my inquiries, to hear of the victories of his faithl; but he spoke only of the wonderful power of God, which had kept himn, and of his love to one so unworthy and perverse. He spoke of his' fierce telmptations,' and how he liad been delivered by the mere mercy of God, and wondered that God should concern himself E D W A D PAYSON. 297 about such a worm, and that he did not leave him to be torn and devoured by Satan. In all my conversation with this wonderfull man, I never heard him utter a word that bordered on boasting, or savored of pride; but he seemed to have a surprising sense of his own unworthiness, and of the amazing love of God in making himself known to him, and giving him a hope in his mercy. "Among the virtues of our friend's character, that of humility appeared eminently beautiful and lovely, and shone in his whole deportment. In prayer, his soul lay low before God. He frequently took part in family devotion, and here he excelled all the men I ever heard. He carried us up, and placed us all in the divine presence; and, when he spread forth his hands to God, heaven seemed to come down to earth, and the glory of the Lord shone around our tabernacle. He knew our wants, and he expressed them in language simple and affecting. He knew our miseries, and he told them all in such tones of tenderness and sympathy, as made us feel that a friend was pleading our cause. While this holy man has talked with God, and seemed to be overshadowed with the divine glory, I have sometimes thought I could imagine what must have been the ecstasy of Peter, when surrounded with the glories of the transfiguration scene. At these solemn seasons, when our brother has been pouring out his heart in deep complaints of sin, and in fervent petitions for mercy, it has seemied as though the cloud of the divine presence covered the household, and the divine majesty was very near us. "The only exercise Dr. Payson performed in public, while with us, was the baptism of my youngest child. Some, who heard his baptismal prayer, observed, afterwards, that the subject of infant baptism had never been exhibited to them in so convincing and solemn a light, and that they had never been so thoroughly impressed with the obligations of religious parents, and the covenant rights of their children. " In the bosom of a private family, Dr. Payson hoped to escape notice, and find rest from the vexations of company. But he could not be long concealed; his retreat was soon discovered, and visitors thronged to see him.:' Our domestic circle was often enlivened by the presence and the conversation of Dr. Payson. The children were not unnoVOL. I. 38 298 MEMOIR OF ticed by him, but shared largely in his attentions; and he seemed to take delight in sharing the toils of the nursery. Often would he take the child from the arms of its mother, and carry it for hours together, and sing some little air to divert it. His conversations were, for the most part, of a religious cast. He seemed inclined to dwell on melancholy subjects, and the strains of the mourning prophet suited him best. Yet now and then would he dwell on the sublime and animating themes of religion; and, when he began on an exalted strain, lie was surpassingly eloquent and instructive. He would seize hold of some thought, and pursue it until it expanded and glowed under the splendor of his imagery. On one occasion, he spoke of the probable condition of the soul of the believer when dying. At this awful period, when gasping in the agonies of death, and apparently insensible to every thing around him, he supposed the wo.rld to be wholly shut out; and in this condition, while friends stand around, and tremble to think of the unknown agonies he may be enduring, he supposes the light of God's countenance is pouring in upon the soul, rendering hin insensible to all his pains, and the soul is struggling and panting to escape from the crumbling tenement: and be at rest in the bosom of God.-I can only give you the idea; it is impossible to reach his description. He seemed to dwell in a spiritual world, and to be most conversant with spiritual objects. This lie manifested'by pureness, by knowledge, by love unfeigned.' He talked about death as we would talk about going from one place to another; and, if any might adopt the language of Watts, much more might he: "Receive my clay, thou treasurer of death; I will no more demand my tongue Till the gross organ well refined, Shall trace the boundless flights of an unfettered mind, And raise an equal song." "I add no more; only that the visit of Dr. Payson at my house left this impression upon our minds-not to be forgetful to entertain strangers; for thereby some have entertained Angels unawares. Respectfully yours, " SAMUEL W. WHELPLEY." EDWARID PAYSON. 299 A short passage from a letter of condolence, adressed to Mrs. Payson by a friend in Connecticut, will probably express the common sentiment of many thousands, who have listened to him whether for a few moments only or for hours: — " I remember with most deep and interesting impression, my last interview with your beloved and ever-to-be-lamented husband. It was during a delightful ride of five or six miles, on the borders of Farmington river. Never had I heard such discourse from the lips of man -never had such interview with a mortal. Even then he seemed like a pure spirit from another world. Such words of wisdom! and such heavenly affections! I cannot efface the impression from my mind." The compiler has taken much pains to procure from companions of his journeys some of the striking observations, which were drawn from him by the natural scenery that he witnessed, by the various characters with whom he met, and the circumstances in which, at different times, he found himself. But his attempts, even with those from whom he had the greatest reason to expect full and satisfactory replies, have been utterly fruitless. The general impression produced by his occasional conversation, has been very strong and deep, and the effect powerfil and abiding; but not one has ventured to report particulars. The words, and of course, the precise sentiments, with numerous circumstances which rendered them peculiarly seasonable, " like apples of gold in pictures of silver," are lost beyond recovery, while their effect remains. The impulse which he gave to other minds still keeps them in action, and is still transmitted from mind to mind, while it is impossible for them to tell how this impulse was first imparted. The pleasure and the benefit remain, though the exciting cause has disappeared. So absorbed have persons been with the effect, as to lose all distinct recollection of the means employed in producing it. This corresponds with the writer's experience. At the first visit which he ever received from Dr. Payson, some allusion was made to the opinion which prevails among Christians in common life, that ministers are in a situation peculiarly favorable to religious enjoyment, because their profession leads them to be incessantly conversant with divine truth. " This," said 300 MEMiOIR OF Mr. Payson, " is just as if a hungry man, on entering the kitchen of a large victualing-house, and inhaling the savory odor of the various dishes of rich food, hot from the fire and the oven, with which the busy laborers were loading the tables, should exclaim-'What a blessed time these cooks have!' " During the interview he uttered enough to make a valuable pamphlet; and yet this one comparison is all that can be. related with even tolerable justice to him. He had repeated applications from the directors of the principal charitable societies of the country to take journeys and collect funds for their respective operations. Of the first of these applications he says-" I dislike begging, and therefore thought I must go; but the hopes of a revival pulled me back." He, however, soon after, " made a beginning by visiting a few towns, the result of which did not encourage him to proceed. He was brought into circumstances which rendered it necessary to preach ten times in eight days;" which added to the fatigue of riding a great distance, proved too much for his strength, and compelled him to relinquish the undertakinig. In the early part of 1819, he made a tour, confined chiefly to Essex county, Mass., in behalf of the American Education Society.* His success in collecting money, though as great, probably, as his employers had any reason to anticipate, did not equal his own wishes. It was no slight trial, " after preaching till he was half dead, to find only a few dollars contributed, and then be obliged to retire, and lie awake, brooding over his ill * A little manuscript volume has fallen into my hands, in which one of Mr. Payson's hearers entered his texts from time to time, together with some of the leading topics of his discourses. A short extract will show the appositeness of his subjects to the circumstances of himself and his congregation, and enable the reader to imagine the additional force and impressiveness which his instructions hence derived: — "JAN. 24, 1819. In the afternoon, Mr. Payson, preparatory to leaving town on a mission to the counties of Essex and Middlesex, in the service of the American Education Society, preached from these words:-' Now I beseech you, brethren, for the Lord Jesus Christ's sake, and for the love of the Spirit, that ye strive together with me in your prayers to God for ne, that I may be delivered from them that do not believe in Judea; and that my service which I have for Jerusalem, may be accepted of the saints; that I may come to you with joy by the will of God, and may with you bo refreshed.' " -RoM. xv. 30-32. ED WA RK D P A YS ON. 301 success half the night." His actual receipts, however, constituted but a small part of the advantage which the society realized as the consequence of his excursion. By such an advocate, its objects and its claims were favorably made known to the community; auxiliary societies were formed, and promises obtained from individuals of large donations. The amount of good which lie accomplished on this journey cannot be estimated by dollars and cents. To obtain money, was with him, now and at all times, a very subordinate object.. It was his great desire to exert an influence favorable to the spiritual welfare of ministers and churches whom he visited. " I labored. as directly as I dared, to persuade all the ministers where I went to expect a revival, and talked to them in my way about Christ." His unusual manner of conversing attracted attention, and opened to his brethren new ways of awakening interest in the subject of Christ and his salvation. His prayers produced the same impression which they always had on strangers. An aged minister noticed the same quality in his prayers, as did the lay visitor at the Springs. He remarked, after hearing them, that prayer might be made as instructive as preaching; and wrote to a son in the ministry, to have Mr. Payson preach for him, by all means, and especially to pray. Mr. Payson's excursions, from time to time, for the benefit of his health, were the means of making him personally known in several of our southern cities, as well as in New England and New York, and consequently, of extending that pious influence which he ever exerted to the farthest boundaries of our land. There is nothing more true, in theory, than that a minister is the common property of the church at large, rather than of any particular division of the church, and that she has a right to his services in that place, which will afford the widest scope for the effectual and useful employment of his peculiar talents and qualifications. But various causes render the principle, one of nost difficult application. Some unhappy consequences, perhaps, never fail to follow the transfer of a minister from one church to another; and no slight probability of increased usefulness can justify such removal. In order that such a change mnay bring any gain to the church general, a minister must do much more good in his new situation, than he did in that which 302 ME MOIR OF he left; for it will require much to balance the certain evils, inseparable from his removal. When a pastor is established in the affections and confidence of his flock, and is laboring with more than ordinary zeal and success, any interference from abroad must be regarded as a hazardous experiment. There may be much of selfishness in the refusal of a people to give up their minister; but certainly not more than there is in those who wish to obtain his services at their expense, and by whose solicitations their feelings are put to the trial. Else, why does the choice of rich churches never fall upon any but ministers of established popularity, or distinguished for their success; while many others, equal, perhaps superior, in moral and intellectual worth, are placed over churches by whom their merits are not appreciated, and who only need a change of situation to take a rank among the most useful of Christ's ministers'. The " call" of a church to the pastor of a sister church may be the call of God; and it may be the result of caprice, of partiality, of pride, or other selfish passions. Those calls are most entitled to consideration, which these feelings have the least concern in producing. The guardians of our public seminaries may be supposed, from their situation, to have no private feelings or partialities to gratify by their appointments. In ordinary cases, they can have little inducement to act for any other than the general good; and that will be a dark day for our land, when these institutions, the nurseries of learning and religion, whence her future pillars are to be obtained, shall be denied their claim to the most valuable men whom the church can furnish. Much disquiet is often produced in a parish by the reported intentions and informal proposals of a society abroad, to " get away their minister," even when this imprudent agitation of the subject does not issue in a formal invitation. The second church in Portland had much experience of this species of trial. When Park street Church, in Boston, was left vacant by the removal of Dr. Griffin, Mr. Payson's charge had unpleasant apprehensions of losing their beloved pastor. It is in allusion to this time that he says in a letter —" We have been kept in a fever here, all this winter, by perpetual alarms from Boston. Because I do not refuse before I am asked, and exclaim loudly against going, some of my people suspect I wish to go.... I EDWARD PAYSON. 303 wish'Boston folks' would be content with being full of notions' themselves, and not fill other people's heads with them." It must greatly endear his memory to his surviving flock, to learn from another letter what were his secret feelings in relation to this matter:-" My people-I never knew before how much they loved me. I am amazed to see what an interest God has given me in the affections of his people, and even of sinners. It would seem like tearing off limbs to leave them. Indeed, I see not how it is possible, humanly speaking, to get away from them. I have not yet been put to the trial. No application has yet been made from B., though much has been said about it. It is very doubtful whether any will be made. I feel very easy about it myself, but the church are in great tribulation. Ever since it was first talked of, I have taken special care to avoid every thing which might tend, either directly or indirectly, to bring it about. If it comes, it shall be none of my seeking." Several years after this, he did, with the full consent of his people, take up a temporary residence in Boston, and, during the few weeks which he spent there, preached to crowded assemblies, and. not without apparent effect. Though the work which his friends there laid out for him was too much for his strength, he was wearied with solicitations and entreaties to visit and preach in the neighboring towns; so anxious were those who had once heard him, to secure for their friends and neighbors a participation in the same privilege; and so confident were their hopes that he would be the instrument of awakening a general concern for the soul, wherever he should address to men the message with which he was entrusted. In 1825, at the organization of the new church in Hanover street, he was invited to take the pastoral charge of it. He referred the call to his own church, who decided, unanimously, that he ought not to accept it- a decision to which he cheerfully acceded. In January 1826, he received a unanimous call from the church in Cedar-street, New York, to become their pastor. This call he promptly, fully, and unequivocally declined. The motives by which he was actuated, may be seen from a letter to his mother, written a few days afterwards. All classes gave him fill credit for disinterestedness in his conduct on this occasion. 304 MEMOIR OF "PORTLAND, JAN. 25, 1826. " MY DEAR MOTHER: Before you receive this, you will, probably have heard that I have returned a negative answer to the invitation from the Cedar-street church. After refusing to accept the call fromn Boston, I could not do otherwise. If I had gone to either place, I must have gone to Boston; for I thinkl the prospect of usefulness there is greater, all things considered, than at New York. Besides, I would never consent to become the pastor of any church, whose members had not heard me preach, and become personally acquainted with me. I have not the least doubt, that, had I complied with the Cedar-street invitation, the first emotions of the church and society, on hearing me, would have been those of bitter disappointment and regret. It is true that a removal to New York, were I fit for the place, would, on many accounts, have been very gratifying. I felt no small inclination to go. I should like exceedingly to be near you and my other relations. I should also like a milder climate than this, and I have little doubt that it would be beneficial to my health. But a removal would be death to my reputation in this part of the country; I mean my Christian reputation; and, what is far worse, it would bring great reproach upon religion. At present, my worst enemies, and the worst enemies of religion, seem disposed to allow that I am sincere, upright, and uninfluenced by those motives which govern worldly-minded men. But had I gone to Boston, and, much more, should I now go to New York, they would at once triumphantly exclaim,'Ah! they are all alike; all governed by worldly motives; they preach against the love of money, and the love of applause, but they will gratify either of those passions, when a fair opportunity offers.' Now, I had much rather die, than give them an occasion thus to speak reproachfully. It would be overthrowing all which I have been laboring to build up. Indeed, I can see no reason why God should suffer these repeated invitations to be sent to me, unless it be to give me an opportunity to show the world that all ministers are not actuated by mercenary or ambitious views. I have already some reason to believe, that my refusal to accept the two calls has done more to convince the enemies of religion, that there is a reality in it, than a thousand sermons would have done. However this may be, I have done what I thought to be duty. If I ever felt desirous to know EDWARD PAYSON. 305 the will of God, and willing to obey it, it has been in reference to these two cases. Could I have had reason to believe, that it was his will, I would very gladly have gone either to Boston or to New York. But, at present, I believe that it was his will that I should remain where I am. Not that I am of any use here; but though I can do no good, I would if possible, avoid doing harm." But little more than a month elapsed before the invitation of the Cedar-street church was repeated. Some changes in his circumstances led him to deliberate, for a time, whegher this second invitation might not be the call of Providence. He considered the obstacles, which had opposed his removal, as diminished. The church in Hanover street-supposing that he might possibly be deterred from complying with this invitation, by the fact that he had so recently declined a call from thempassed a resolve, with a view to remove any difficulties which that circumstance might have thrown in his way, and wrote a letter, urging him to act just as he should if he had never received an invitation from them. This amounted very nearly to the expression of an opinion, that it was his duty to go. HIe was evidently much perplexed. On the one hand, he feared' doing wrong, and offending God, by running before he was sent." On the other hand, the circumstances attending his reception of the call, 1 induced him to believe that it might, possibly, be the call of God; and he could not again decline it, until he had taken time for prayer and deliberation." "I have ample reaason," he writes to the commissioners who tendered the invitation, " to believe that God placed me in my present situation; and I must, therefore, be convinced that he calls me away, before I can consent to leave it. That he does call me away, I am not yet convinced; though I admit it to be possible." After having been long agitated by the perplexing question, it was, at length, referred to a council, mutually chosen by himself and his church. To the council it proved almost as tedious and trying as it had to him. They were reluctant to decide against his removal, thinking it possible, that a change of climate and situation, together with the diminished necessity of study, might recruit the wasted energies of his body, and prolong, for the benefit of the church, his most valuable and useful VOL. I. 39 306 MEMOIR OF life. On the other hand, they found difficulties in the way oi recommending his removal, which they were not able to surmount, the principal of which was his want of a full and decided conviction of personal duty in the case. They could, therefore, only advise, that, if such should be his conviction, and he should make it known to his church, they would consent to part with him. To this state his mind had nearly approached, when its progress towards conviction was arrested and its purpose changed by increased illness. Symptoms of pulmonary affection, added to his other maladies, excited apprehensions that his labors on earth were nearly terminated apprehensions which, alas! proved to be but too well founded. In May following, by the advice of friends and physicians, he tried very thoroughly the experiment of riding on horseback, by making a journey through the interior of Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, and Connecticut, to New York city, and thence to the Springs, where his mind was disturbed by a third application to take the charge of the Cedar-street church, accompanied with most pressing letters and messages from clergymen and others. Though this was declined without much hesitation, yet in the excitable state of his nerves, and his universal weakness of body, it was injurious to his welfare, and, combined with other causes, prevented his deriving any benefit from his journey and an absence of two months. " The peculiar trials of mind," writes the Rev. Mr. Whelpley, with whom he took lodgings, — The peculiar trials of mind he had passed through, in consequence of the invitations he received to New York and Boston, well nigh broke him down, as he expressed it, and greatly aggravated his complaints and sufferings; and he had hoped to experience no more trouble from this quarter. But no sooner was it known in New York, that he was at the Springs, than fresh overtures were sent to him.'I wonder,' said he, that this people will thus pursue a dying man. I cannot help them or myself.' I have no doubt, from various expressions of his, that the great efforts made to effect his translation to a new field of labor, proved too much for his weak frame, and hastened his dissolution." EDWARD PAYSON. 307 The language ascribed to Mr. Payson, in the preceding extract, is descriptive of his own weakness, and expresses his settled conviction of the desperate condition of his health, and not any intended censure of the people who were so perseveringly solicitous to secure his services. He could fully appreciate their motives. But they knew not how delicate and susceptible were his feelings; nor did they know how nearly exhausted in him, were the springs of life. Doubtless their wishes had so far affected their judgment, as to create the confident expectation, that a removal to a new field of action would be the means of restoring and establishing his health. But it was already gone past recovery. That he was held in as high estimation by the great and good, as by Christians in the ordinary walks of life, is obvious from the fact, that he was, in 1821, requested by persons having some control in the appointment, to say whether he would accept a professorship in the Theological Seminary at Andover, if elected to the office. But he refused " at once, and positively, on the score of not possessing the requisite qualifications. Had I been suitably qualified, I am not certain that I should not have thought it my duty to go." CHAPTER XVII. Letters to persons in various circumstances and states of mind. THOUGH Mr. Payson was eminently felicitous in adapting his public discourses to the wants and characters of a promiscuous assembly, he was, if possible, still more so, in suiting his counsels, instructions, and appeals, to the cases of individuals. But these dictates of his sanctified understanding and ardently affectionate heart, are mostly lost; and their place can be supplied only by a selection from his letters, written to persons variously situated and affected, —which, though both interesting and instructive, are far inferior in imagery, appositeness, and effect, to his viva voce instructions. To his mother under affliction of spirit: " MY DEAREST MOTHER:-Never did I more ardently wish to impart consolation, and never did I feel so utterly powerless to do it. You say yourself, that neither reason nor religion can restrain your tormenting imagination. What encouragement, then, have I to attempt to confort you under the evils it occasions? I wish I could communicate to you the feelings which have rendered me happy for some weeks past. I will mention the texts which occasioned them; texts on which I have preached lately. Perhaps the great Comforter may apply them to you. If so, you will little need any consolation which I can give. The first is Isaiah xxvi. 20. The time of our continuance on earth is but a moment;, nay, it is but a little moment. Suppose, then, the worst. Suppose all the evils which imagination can paint, should come upon you. They will endure only for a. little moment; and, while this little moment is passing away, MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. 309 you may run and hide in the chambers of protection, which God has provided for his people, till the mansions preparing for them above are ready for their reception. 0, then, my dear mother, glory in these afflictions, which endure but for a moment. 0, how near, how very near, is eternity. It is even at the door. " New-year's Sabbath, I preached on this text,' As the Lord liveth, there is but a step between me and death.' One inference was, there is but a step between Christians and heaven. So it has seemed to me almost ever since. Another text, which I have preached on lately, and which has been much blessed to me, is Rev. xxi. 23'And the city has no need of the sun,' &c. 0, how unutterably glorious did heaven appear! It is glory; it is a weight of glory; an exceeding weight of glory; a far more exceeding weight of glory; a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. 0, how shall we bear such a weight of glory as this! How shall we wait with patience till we arrive at it! 0, it seems too much; too boundless, too overwhelming to think of. Come afflictions; come troubles; come trials, temptations, distresses of every kind and degree; make our path through life as painful, as wearisome as you can; still, if heaven is at the end of it, we will smile at all you can do. My dear mother, break away; O that God would enable you to break away from all your cares and sorrows, and fly, rise, soar up to the New Jerusalem. See its diamond walls, its golden streets, its pearly gates, its shining inhabitants, all in a blaze with reflected light and glory, the light of God, the glory of the Lamb! Say with David, Toward this city I will go in the strength of the Lord God; I will make mention of thy righteousness, even of thine only. My mother, what a righteousness is this? The righteousness of God! A righteousness as much better than that of Adam, nay, than that of angels, as God is better than his creatures. Since, then, my dear mother, you have such a heaven before you; such a righteousness to entitle you to heaven; and such blessed chambers to hide in, during the little moment which separates you from heaven —dry up your tears, banish your anxieties, leave sorrow and sighing to those who have no such blessings in store or reversion, and sing, sing, as Noah sat secure in the ark, and sang'the grace that steered him through.' 31:0, MEM I OIR OF' I would urge father to be more careful of himself; if I thought it would do any good; but it will not. The nearer he gets to his sun, his centre, the end of his course; the faster he will fly, and you cannot stop him. Catch hold of him, and fly with him, and I will come panting after as fast as I can." To a kinsman, in an important crisis of his religious experi. ence: "I In your present situation, and for some time to come, your greatest difficulty will be, to maintain the daily performance of closet duties. On your maintaining that part, the fate of the whole battle will turn. This your great adversary well knows. He knows, that if he can beat you out of the closet, he shall have you in his own power. You will be in the situation. of an army cut off from supplies and re-inforcements, and will be obliged either to capitulate, or to surrender at discretion. He will, therefore, leave no means untried to drive or draw you from the closet. And it will be hard work to maintain that post against him and your own heart. Sometimes he will probably assail you with more violence, when you attempt to read or pray than at any other time; and thus try to persuade you that prayer is rather injurious than beneficial. At other times, he will withdraw, and be quiet, lest, if he should distress you with his temptation, you might be driven to the throne of grace for help. If he can prevail upon us to be careless and stupid, he will rarely distress us. He will not disturb a false peace, because it is a peace of which he is the author. But if he cannot succeed in lulling us asleep, he will do all in his power to distress us. And when he is permitted to do this, and the Holy Spirit withdraws his sensible aid and consolations; when, though we cry and shout, God seems to shut out our prayers, — it is by no means easy to be constant in secret duties. Indeed, it is always most difficult to attend to them when they are most necessary. But never mind. Your Lord and Master is looking on. He notices, he accepts, and he will reward every struggle. Besides, in the Christian warfare, to maintain the conflict, is to gain the victory. The promise is made to him that endures to tile end. The object of our spiritual adversaries, then, is to EDWARD PAYSON. 311 prevent us from enduring to the end.. If they fail of effecting this object, they are defeated. Every day in which you are preserved from going back, they sustain a defeat. And if, by praying yesterday, you gained strength enough to pray to-day; and if, by praying to-day, you gain strength enough to pray again to-morrow, you have cause for thankfulness. If the food which you take every day nourishes you for one day you are satisfied. You do not expect that the food you ate yesterday will nourish you to-day. Do not complain, then, if you find it necessary to ask every day for fresh supplies of spiritual nourishment; and do not think your prayers, are unanswered, so long as you are enabled to struggle on, even though it should be with pain and difficulty. Every day I see more clearly how great a mercy it is to be kept from open sin and from complete apostacy. If you are thus kept, be thankful for it." To a gentleman in a neighboring state, whose hospitality he had enjoyed while on a journey for his health, and who has since yielded to the expostulations of his reverend friend, and is now numbered with the people of God:' The unvarying kindness and hospitality with which I was treated while at your house, has left an impression upon my mind, and laid me under obligations, which, I trust, will never be forgotten. In addition to this, the apparent interest with which you listened to remarks on religious subjects, and your request that I would write to you and pray for you, have led me to feel a more than ordinary concern for your future welfare. It is this which induces me to write-yet I must confess that I write with trembling. The numerous instances in which I have seen religious impressions fade away, lead me to fear that, ore this, the subject may have ceased to appear interesting to you, and that you will not thank me for troubling you with this letter. But I will, for the present, hope better things, and, under the,influence of such a hope, will venture to write. Yet what shall I say, ignorant as I am of the present state of your mind, land, of course, equally ignorant of what it requires? I have been imploring that omnipresent Being, who is perfectly acquainted with it, to guide my pen, and lead me to write sometlhing which may prove' a word in season.' Should he grant nic this, it would be a favor indeed. 312 MEMOIR OF "Perhaps I ought to address you as a Christian. Perhaps you have, ere this, become a cordial, decided disciple of Christ. I am not entirely without hope that this is the case. Few things could give me more pleasure than to be assured that it is so. If it is, you will need no exhortations from me to pursue a course which you have already found to be' ways of pleasantness and paths of peace.' If' it is, you have already' tasted and seen that the Lord is good;' you know his goodness, not speculatively, or by report merely, but experimentally; and you can address the Saviour in the language of Peter'I believe and am sure that thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.' But, if this is not the case, if your mind remains il the same state in which I left it, the following hints may possibly prove serviceable: God, as a wise Being, employs means and instruments suited to the work which he designs to perform. He never employs powerful means, or dignified agents, to effect a work which might as well be effected by weak means and feeble agents. He would not employ an angel to do the work of a man; he would not send his only Son to perform works which did not transcend the powers of an angel. Hence we may in-.fer, that, if men or angels could have effected the work of man's redemption, God would not have employed his own Son to effect it; and, if that Son could have effected it in any easier way than by dying on the cross, he would never have consented to die in that manner. Consider, then, my dear sir, how great a work this must have been. To create the world cost Jesus Christ but six days; but to redeem the world cost him thirty-three years, spent in poverty and labor, and the shedding of his own blood. How great, then, must have been the evils from which he did all this to redeem us! How terrible must be the situation of sinners, since he' suffered so much to rescue them from it! From the dignity of the Physician, and the costliness of the remedy, we may learn how dangerous, how desperate, was the disease. Only let a man say, with firm conviction, —' My situation was so dangerous, so hopeless, that nothing less than the incarnation and death of God's eternal Son could save me from it,' and he will scarcely remain at rest until he has secured salvation. He will not, cannot rest in a situation so dangerous. EDWARD PAYSON. 313 Bllt these facts and inferences, obvious as they are, we are prone to overlook. There is a species of religion which appears to us much more rational and agreeable than the doctrines of the cross. It is, indeed, little better than deism; for Christ has almost no place in it. It may, therefore, be useful to attend to such passages as these:-' All men shall honor the Son, even as they honor the Father:'-' He that honoreth not the Son, honoreth not the Father:'' He that denieth the Son hath not the Father.' Christ says-' No man cometh to the Father but by me:'-' In him dwells all the fulness of the Godhead bodily.' Now, if all the fulness of the Godhead dwells in Christ, no man can obtain any portion of that fulness without applying to Christ. In a. word, Christ's language is-' Without me ye can do nothing.' Never, then, shall we do any thing successfully in religion, unless we apply for and obtain assistance. We must begin with Christ. He is the Author and Finisher of our Faith. "I have written at random, and in the dark respecting your present feelings. I can scarcely hope that these broken hints will be of any service. But they will, at least, serve as a proof that I have not forgotten your kindness, and that I feel an interest in your welfare. This interest is deeper than you are, perhaps, aware. It would gratify me much to hear from you, and still more to hear that you are rejoicing in the truth. Be pleased to remember me respectfully and affectionately to lMrs.. I have not forgotten her kindness. Our journey, after we left you, was tolerably pleasant, but of little service to my health. - - x - MCay we all meet in heaven, is the frequent prayer of Yours sincerely." To a distant lady, in whose piety he had full confidence, but who was much discouraged respecting herself:" MY DEAR MRS.:-What a task you have imposed on me! You require me to write you a letter which shall make you feel, and yet you tell me that the Bible, the letter which God himself has sent to you from heaven, does not make you feel. If I believed this to be the case, could I write with any hope of success? Could I hope to affect a heart which a message from heaven does not affect? But I do not, cannot believe VOL. I. 40 314 MEMOIR OF that this message has failed to affect you.'Your letter to Mrs. P. contains proof that it has not. In that letter you say-' I hate myself while I write.' But hatred of one's self, or self-abhorrence, is one of the constituent parts of true repentanlce. No one but the real penitent, no one who is not a Christian, hates himself. He who abhors himself sees and feels it to be right that God should abhor him. He can, accordingly, take part with God against himself —justify God while he reproaches and condemns himself. And he who can do this is prepared to embrace the gospel, to receive it as glad tidings of great joy. Are you not then, my dear madam, proved to be a Christian out of your own mouth? If you do not choose to yield to proof from that source, let me request you to come with me to the mount of transfiguration. We may, like the disciples, feel emotions of fear as we enter the bright cloud which overshadows it, but we have no reason to entertain such emotions. Now contemplate him who stood on the summit, in the midst of this bright cloud. See his countenance shining like the sun, and his raiment white as the light. See all the fulness of the Godhead dwelling in him, diffusing itself around. Hear the awful voice of the eternal Father, proclaiming —' This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; hear ye him.' Recollect all that you have heard and read of the Being before you. Think of his power to save, of his willingness to save, of his delight in saving sinners. And now, what does your heart say to all this? What reply does it make when the Saviour, turning upon you a look full of invitation, benevolence, and compassion, says to you-Fear not, Mary, to approach me; I am come to seek and to save that which was lost; shall I save thee? Wilt thou consent to have me for thy Saviour upon my own terms? Wilt thou believe that I am disposed to look with an eye of pity on thy struggles against sin, and to assist thee in overcoming it? Wilt thou believe that I can bear with thee, forgive thee, have patience with thee, and never be weary of instructing thee, reclaiming thee, and leading thee forward in the way to heaven? And now, my dear madam, let me ask, once more, What reply does your heart make to this language? Does it not say with Peter,-' Lord, it is good to be here'-it is good to sit at thy feet, and hear thy word; I believe, I am sure, that thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God? If this is the language of EDWARD PAYSON. 315 your heart, he does, in effect, say to you —' Blessed art thou, Mary Ann; for flesh and blood have not revealed this unto thee, but my Father, who is in heaven.' Blessed art thou, for thou hast chosen tie good part, and it shall never be taken from thee. But perhaps you will say-for you have to dispute against yourself-' I believe nothing, feel nothing, of all this.' Let me, then, make another trial. St. Paul, speaking of ancient believers, says-'If they had been mindful of the country whence they came out, they might have had opportunity to return thither; but they desired another country, even a heavenly; wherefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God.' Now permit me to apply this passage to your case. If you are mindful of the world, if you wish to return to that careless, sinful state of conformity to it, from which you are professedly come out, you have opportunity to return to it; there is nothing to prevent you. But can you say that you wish to return? Can you deny that you desire a better country, even a heavenly? If you do desire it, if you have no wish to return to the service of sin, then God is not ashamed to be called your God; and if he is not ashamed to be called your God, then you ought not to be afraid to call him so; but ought to approach him with confidence, crying,' my Father! my God!' To a young female member of his church, obviating an erroneous inference from her want of sensible enjoyment in Christian ordinances. You appear to speak in several places, as if you imagined that the loss of sensible comfort is a proof that God is displeased, and that it is intended as a punishment of our neglect. This is the only idea in your manuscript which I do not consider as perfectly correct. I believe that persons may sometimes enjoy the light of God's countenance, when he is far from being pleased with them; and on the contrary, that they may long walk in darkness when their conduct is well pleasing in his sight. But this is too copious a subject to be discussed in a letter. We will talk of it hereafter. Nothing appears to perplex you more than the little comfort or advantage, which you derive from the Lord's Supper. In this respect however, your case is less singular than you may 316 MEMOIR OF suppose. A few days since I was conversing with a professor of six or seven years' standing, whom I have every reason to look upon as a Christian, who never enjoyed. a single communion until within two months past. I have met with other similar instances. C If I may judge from a view of the state of your mind as here described, I should say that your difficulties principally arise from strong temptations addressed to your conscience; temptations which lead you continually to contemplate your own sinfulness, guilt and wretchedness, and to doubt your right to take hold on the promises of the gospel. You recollect the woman whom Satan had hound for eighteen years, in such a manner that she could not lift herself up. In the same manner he often binds Christians, by temptations addressed to the conscience, so that they can only look down into themselves, and cannot lift themselves up to contemplate Christ. But this poring upon our own wretchedness will never afford us relief, any more than the Israelites could derive relief, when bitten by the fiery serpents, from poring upon the number and depth of their wounds." The following letter of condolence to his bereaved parents contains some reminiscences of a most valuable woman, which ought to be preserved, and which will be gladly recognised by great numbers, to whom she was endeared by " the good works and alms-deeds which she did:"MAY 4, 1818. S MY DEAR AFFLICTED PARENTS:-You will probably hear from poor brother Rand, before you receive this letter, that you have one child less on earth, to comfort you in the decline of life; that dear, dear Grata has gone before you to heaven. I cannot hope to console you; but I do hope that your surviving children will feel bound to do every thing in their power to make up your loss, by increased filial affection, and concern for your happiness. I cannot mourn for Grata. How much suffering of body and mind has she escaped by her early departure! But I mourn for poor brother Rand, for his motherless children, and for you. It would be some consolation to you, could you know how much she was beloved, how greatly her loss is lamented, EDWARD PAYSON. 317 how much good she did, and how loudly she is praised by all who knew her. I doubt not that hundreds mourn for her, and feel her loss almost or quite as much as do her relatives. Mr. H., who preached her funeral sermon, gave her a most exalted character; and a young lady, who resided a few weeks in Mr. Rand's family, speaks of her, every where, as the most faultless person with whom she was ever acquainted. Many, many prayers have been offered up, both here and at Gorham, that you may be supported and comforted, when the tidings reach you; and I hope and trust they will be answered. Thanks be to God, that you are loved and blessed by many who never saw you, on account of your children. Mr. Rand feels great hopes that her loss will be blessed to his church and people; and that she will do more good in her death, than she has done in her life; and from what I saw at the funeral, I cannot but indulge similar hopes. You will wish to know how he bears the loss; but I can hardly tell. When I saw him, he had been in a state of confusion, and surrounded by his mourning people, from the moment of her death; so that, as he more than once observed, he could scarcely realize that she was dead, or tell how he felt. The worst is yet to come; but I doubt not he will be supported. I hope, too, that her loss will do me some good. The suddenness of her departure makes the other world appear very near; and she seems as much, and even more alive, than she did before. I preached with reference to the subject yesterday; and could not but hope that her death might be blessed to some of my people, or, at least, to some of the church." To two of his flock, who, in their absence fromn home, were to receive, with this letter, the afflicting intelligence of the deathl of their only child: —' My dear brother and sister in Christ, and now brother and sister in affliction, the letters which accompany this will inform you why I write. I see and share in the poignant grief which those letters occasion; nor would I rudely interrupt it. I will sit down and weep with you in silence for a while; and when the first gush of wounded affection is past; when the tribute * Christian Spectator for March, 1830. 318 MEMOIR OF which nature demands, and which religion does not forbid, has been paid to the memory of your dear departed babe, I will attempt to whisper a word of consolation. May the' God of all consolation' make it such. Were I writing to parents who know nothing of religion, I should indeed despair of affording you any consolation. My task would be difficult indeed, nor should I know what to say. I could only tell them of a God whom they had never known, of a Saviour with whom they had formed no acquaintance, of a Comforter whose consoling power they had never experienced, of a Bible from whose rich treasures they had never been taught to derive support. But in writing to you, my only difficulty is of a very different kind. It consists in selecting from the innumerable topics of consolation contained in the Scriptures, those which are best adapted to your peculiar situation. So numerous are they, that I know not which to mention or which to omit. May God guide my choice and direct my pen. It is needless, in writing to Christian parents, to you, to enlarge on the common topics of consolation. I need not tell you who has done this,- who it is that gives and takes away. I need not tell you, that' whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.' I need not tell you of the great duties of resignation and submission, for you have long been learning them in a painful but salutary school. And need I tell you that he who inflicts your sufferings, knows their number and weight, knows all the pain you feel, and sympathizes with you even'as you once sympathized with your dear babe; for as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. 0 think of this; the pity, the parental pity, of a God. Who would not willingly be afflicted to be thus pitied! Go then, my dear brother and sister, and lean with sweet confiding love upon the bosom of this pitying, sympathizing Friend; there deposit all your sorrows, and hear him saying, The cup which I give you, my children, will you not drink it? Remember he knows all its bitterness. He himself mentions the grief of parents mourning for a first born and only child as exceedingly great. Remember too, that taking this bitter cup with cheerfulness from your Father's hand, will be considered by him as an unequivocal token of your filial affection.'Now I know that thou lovest me,' said he to Abraham,'seeing thou hast not withheld EDWARD PAYSON. 319 thy son, thine only son-from me.' It requires the same kind of grace, if not the same degree of grace, to resign a child willingly to God, as to sacrifice it on the altar; and if you are enabled thus to resign your babe, God will say to you, Now I know that ye love me, seeing ye withheld not your child, your only child, from me. If at times, when'all the parent rises in your bosoms,' these consolations should prove insufficient to quiet your sorrows, think on what is the situation and employment of your dear departed child. She is doubtless praising God; and, next to the gift of Christ, she probably praises him for giving her parents who prayed for her and dedicated her to God. She now knows all that you did for her, and loves and thanks you for it, and will love and thank you forever; for though natural ties are dissolved by death, yet those spiritual ties which unite you and your child, will last long as eternity. She has performed all the work, and done all the good, for which she was sent to us, and thus fulfilled the end of her earthly existonce; and if you have been the means of bringing into being a little immortal, who had just lighted on these shores, and then took her flight to heaven, you have reason to be thankful; for it is an honor and a favor. Neither your existence nor your union have been in vain, since you have been the instruments of adding one more blest voice to the choirs above. But I must close. May God bless you, support and restore you to us in safety, is the prayer of your affectionate friend and pastor, " EDWARD PAYSON." A letter of counsel to a candidate for the ministry: "MY DEAR BROTHER: 1 - rejoice to learn that you are in part released from the bondage in which you have been so long held. That you are released, I infer, first, from the fact that you are preaching; and, secondly, from your having written me a letter. But what a request does your letter contain! That I should write to you systematically-! I, who never did any thing systematically in my life, but have always lived extempore! If I write to you, it must be in the same way. It will be the easiest thing in the world to give you plenty of good advice. All the difficulty will be, to make you follow it. If you are like me, you will never learn any thing to any purpose, till it is 320 MEMOIR OF beaten into you by painful experience; and even then, you will probably forget it in a tenth part of the time which it took you to learn it. However, I will tell you one thing, which experience has taught me. If you will believe it, on my word, it will save you some suffering. If not, you must learn it, as I did, under the scourge. "Some time since, I took up a little work, purporting to be the lives of sundry characters, as related by themselves. Two of those characters agreed in remarking, that they were never happy until they ceased striving to be great men. This remark struck me, as you know the most simple remarks will strike us, when Heaven pleases. It occurred to me at once, that most of my sins and sufferings were occasioned by an unwillingness to be the nothing which I am, and by consequent struggles to be something. I saw that if I would but cease struggling, and consent to be any thing, or nothing, just as God pleases, I might be happy. You will think it strange, that I mention this as a new discovery. In one sense, it was not new; I had known it for years. But I now saw it in a new light. My heart saw it, and consented to it; and I am comparatively happy. My dear brother, if you can give up all desire to be great, and feel heartily willing to be nothing, you will be happy too. You must not even wish to be a great Christian; that is, you must not wish to make great attainments in religion, for the sake of knowing that you have made, or for the sake of having others think that you have made them. Very true, very good, you will say, though somewhat trite; but how am I to bring myself to such a state? Let me ask, in reply, why you are not troubled, when you see one man receive military, and another masonic honors? Why are you not unhappy, because you cannot be a colonel, a general, or a most worshipful grand high priest. Because, you answer, I have no desire for these titles or distinctions. And why do you not desire them? Simply because you are not running a-race in competition with those who obtain them. You stand aside, and say, Let those who wish for these things have them. Now if you can, in a similar manner, give up all competition with respect to other objects; if you can stand aside from the race which too many other ministers are running, and say, from your heart,' Let those who choose to engage in such a race divide the prize; let one minister run EDWARD PAYSON. 321 away with the money, and another with the esteem, and a third with the applause, &c.; I have something else to do; a different race to run; be God's approbation the only prize for which I run; let me obtain that, and it is enough;' I say, if you can, from the heart, adopt this language, you will find most of your difficulties and sufferings vanish. But it is hard to say this. It is almost impossible to persuade any man to renounce the race, without cutting off his feet. or, at least, fettering him. This God has done for me; this. he has been doing for you. And you will, one day, if you do not now, bless him for all your sufferings, as I do for mine. I have not suffered one pang too much. God was never more kind than when I thought him most unkind; never more faithful than when I was ready to say, His faithfulness has failed. Let him fetter you, then, if he pleases. Consent that he should cut off your feet, if he pleases. Any thing is a blessing which prevents us from running the fatal race, which we are so prone to run; which first convinces us that we are nothing, and then makes us willing to be so." To an aged mother, suffering great anxiety on account of the disheartened and comfortless condition of her son:" You give yourself too much trouble about P. After you have prayed for him, as you have done, and committed him to God, should you not cease to feel anxious respecting him The command,' Be careful for nothing,' is unlimited; and so is the expression' casting all your care upon him.' If we cast our burdens upon another, can they continue to press upon us? If we bring them away with us from the throne of grace, it is evident we do not leave them there. With respect to myself, I have made this one test of my prayers. If, after committing any thing to God, I can, like Hannah, come away, and have my countenance no more sad, my heart no more pained, or anxious, I look upon it as one proof thaj prayed in faith; but, if I bring away my burden, I conclude at faith was not in exercise. If God has any work for P. to do, he will cause him to do it. He made him, as he made everything else, for his own glory, and he will cause his glory to be promoted by him. Of course, I should not urge this as a reason for neglecting to counsel or pray VOL. I. 41 322 MEMOIR OF for him; but as a reason why, when we have performed these duties, we should be free from all care and anxiety respecting the event. The case of Cowper, which you feared would do me hurt, did me much good. It led to such reflections as these: If God could, without injury to himself, or his cause, suffer such a mind as that of Cowper to rust in inaction, to be fettered by nervous difficulties and temptations, or to be uselessly employed for ten years together in translating a pagan poet, is it any wonder, that he should leave my little mind to be fettered and crippled, and my time to pass away in a useless manner? After all, I am treated more favorably than he was; and I desire to be thankful that it is no worse with me. You may make similar reflections respecting P's case. Should God leave him in his present state all his days, it would be nothing new in the history of his dealings with his people. And you will allow that he has a right to do it, and that he will not do it unless it is for the best. Where, then, is any reason for anxiety? I should like, indeed, to have God make use of me to do great things; and you would have him employ P. to do great things; but if he chooses to leave us both crippled and useless, we must submit." To the Rev. Daniel Temple, missionary to Western Asia:" PORTLAND, OCT. 13, 1822. " MY DEAR BROTHER:- I dare not decline the correspondence which you propose. The common rules of civility, to say nothing of Christian affection, forbid it. Yet I do not engage in such a correspondence without reluctance. I feel none of the confidence which you express, that it will prove beneficial to you. Did your sphere of action resemble mine, it is barely possible that I might suggest some hints which would be useful. But the situation of a missionary in Palestine differs so widely from that of a minister in a Christian country, that no advice which I can give, would afford, ou any assistance. And the distance between us increases my unwillingness to write. Almost any thing in the form of a letter might answer, were it to be sent only a few miles; but a letter which is to cross the seas, which is to go to Palestine, ought surely to contain something worth reading. Even gold and silver are almost too bulky EDWARD PAYSON. 323 to be sent so far. Such a letter should resemble bank notes, or bills of exchange. But such a letter I have no hopes of writing, The faculty of condensing much in a small compass, is one of the many faculties which I do not possess. However, I will write. May he who knows in what circumstances this letter will find you, guide me to write something which may prove a'word in season.' "One of the principal results of the little experience which I have had as a Christian minister, is a conviction that religion consists very much in giving God that place in our views and feelings. which he actually fills in the universe. We know that in the universe he is all in all. So far as he is constantly all in all to us, so far as we comply with the Psalmist's charge to his soul,'My soul, wait thou only upon God;' so far, I apprehend, have we advanced toward perfection. It is comparatively easy to wait upon God, but to wait upon him only,-to feel, so far as our strength, happiness, and usefulness are concerned, as if all creatures and second causes were annihilated, and we were alone in the universe with God, is, I suspect, a difficult and rare attainment. At least, I am sure it is one which I am very far from having made. In proportion as we make this attainment, we shall find every thing easy; for we shall become, emphatically, men of prayer, and we may say of prayer, as Solomon says of money, that it answereth all things. I have often thought that every minister, and especially every missionary, ought frequently to read, or at least call to mind, Foster's Essay on the Epithet Romantic. If you have not his Essays at hand, you may, perhaps, recollect some of his concluding remarks. After showing that it is highly romantic to expect extraordinary success from ordinary means, he adds to this effect,-' The individual, who should solemnly resolve to try the best and last possible efficacy of prayer, and unalterably determine that heaven should not withhold a single influence, which the utmost effort of persevering prayer could bring down, would probably find himself becoming a much more successful agent in his little sphere.' Very few missionaries since the apostles, probably, have tried the experiment. He, who shall make the first trial, will, I believe, effect wonders. May you, my dear brother, be that happy man. Nothing that I could write, nothing which an angel could write, would be necessary to him who should make 324 MEMI I R OF this trial. I trust that you will find our Master is as really present in Palestine as he was in the days of his flesh; that you will sometimes enjoy his presence in the very places in which it was formerly enjoyed by the apostles. We read that, on one occasion, they; returned to Jesus, and told him all things, both what they -lad done, and what they had taught.' If we were, in like manner, to come to his feet every evening, and tell him where we have been, what we have done, what we have said, and what were our emotions through the day; we should, I believe, find it both pleasant and profitable. Perhaps he would say to us, as he did to them, Come apart, and rest with me awhile. May lie often invite you to rest awhile with him, to refresh you when faint and weary, and, after a long life of usefulness, take you to rest with him forever in his own heaven. "I write no religious intelligence, for you will have it in the Recorder, —1 may, however, mention, that the ministers in this State agreed to observe the first day of the present year, as a day of fasting and prayer. In consequence, we have had more revivals in the State this year than in any former year, though none of them has been very extensive. About forty have been added to our church. We long to have good news from Palestine, but are aware that we must wait and pray long, before we can expect to hear much. "I commend you to God, my dear brother, and send this letter merely as a proof of Christian affection. " To a ministering brother at a distance, whose labors were suspended by sickness:"I thank you for your letter, though, in consequence of the unfavorable information which it communicated respecting your health, it gave me quite as much pain as pleasure. I had hoped to hear a better account of you. But why do I say hoped? or what business have I to talk of hoping or fearing, when God is ordering every thing in infinite wisdom and mercy? The fact is, I usually find it much easier to acquiesce in my own afflictions, than in those of my friends; for I can see that afflictions are absolutely necessary for me, but do not see with equal clearness that they are necessary for them. But if I do not see it, God does. or he would not afflict them. As you are in his hands, EDWARD PAYSON. 325 you will be well the moment that he sees it best you should be so; and why should I wish you to be well any sooner? However, I should be glad to hear that the time is arrived, and that you are able to resume your labors. If you are not, and are inquiring of your Master what he would have you do, his answer is,' Lie down at my feet and be quiet, till I give you strength to get up and work.' But he knows we had rather labor than suffer; and that we had rather labor and suffer too, than be laid aside; and therefore he sometimes lays us aside for awhile, in order to try us with what is most disagreeable. Besides, no mall is fit to rise up and labor, until he is made willing to lie still and suffer as long as his Master pleases. But I had almost forgotten that I am writing a letter, and not a sermon. This is the less to be wondered at, because I laid aside a sermon to scribble to you. I will try to be less forgetful in future. "The revival which you predicted is not arrived: and, what is worse, we see no signs of its approaching, unless increasing deadness is a sign. At the last union prayer meeting, I proposed that all the churches should unite in observing a day of fasting and prayer, and assemble in the morning at one meeting-house, in the afternoon at another, and in the evening at a third. No objection was made; but it was thought best to appoint a cornmittee to consult each church in form. If they agree to the proposal, as I think they will, we shall appoint some day next week, and have notice given from the pulpits on the preceding Sabbath.' * * "I hope the good people of B., C., &c., have become quiet again, since La Fayette's departure. When will the Saviour be invited to visit us, and be welcomed as he was? Not, I am afraid, in my day, nor yours. I have nothing more to say, except that my health is in the best state possible; and yet it is very bad. I leave you to solve the riddle, if it is one, at your leisure. When you have nothing better to do, write to me, and tell me that you are the better for having been sick." To a kinsman under spiritual trials: — " My DEAR BROTHER:-I have just received your doleful epistle and, though parochial cares press upon me, —having just 326 MEMOIR OF returned from a journey, I nust snatch a moment to answer it. Would to God I could write something which would prove serviceable, but I fear I shall not. However, I will make the attempt, and may God bless it. You have no reason to suppose that there is any thing peculiar or discouraging in your present situation. God is dealing with you as he did with Hezekiah, when he left him, to try him, that he' might know all that was in his heart.' If you have ever read Mr. Newton's description of grace in the blade, in the ear, and in the full corn, you will recollect, that he mentions' desire,' as the characteristic of the first stage, and' conflict,' as that of the second. If I understand your letter, you have entered on the stage oL conflict, and must now expect more distressing proofs of the desperate wickedness of your heart, than you had before experienced. In another letter, Mr. Newton says, I believe God never gives his people much of a victory over the world, till he has left them to feel how great is its power over them.' This remark, I have no doubt, is true; and God, I trust, is now preparing you for a victory over the world, by showing you more of its strength and your own weakness. Besides, I have no doubt that your present trials are occasioned, in part, by the state of your health. But, however this may be, let me assure you, that, so long as sin is seen, hated, resisted; so long as we groan under it, and struggle against it, it shall not harm us. Do not, then, yield to discouragement; do not neglect the means of grace, as you will sometimes be strongly tempted to do; do not cease struggling, because your struggles seem to avail nothing; but continue, like Gideon,. though'faint, yet pursuing.' Could I tell you what bitter proofs I have had of my desperate, desperate depravity-how often I have been brought to my wit's end-how often I should have chosen strangling and death rather than life, and how I have been carried through all, it would, I think, afford you some encouragement. But perhaps you will say,' If I could feel distressed, if I were not so stupid in this situation, it would encourage me.' And how, let me ask, are you to learn that your heart is like the nether millstone, except by being left for a time, to feel that nothing can either melt or move it? I do not, of course, mean to justify or excuse this hardness of heart. It is a most abominable and detestable evil, and I should be very sorry to say any thing EDWARD PAYSON. 327 which should lead you to think lightly of it; still, if our hearts are hard and wicked, in a far greater degree than we ever conceived of, it is surely best that we should know it; else, how should we ever be duly grateful to our great physician for healing us. Heal you he will, my dear brother, I doubt not; but he will first make you know how sick, how mortally sick you are. In consequence, you will think more highly than ever of his kindness, faithfulness, and skill; you will love much, because much has been forgiven you; and you will be better prepared to join in the song of' Worthy is the Lamb.' I must again, however, beseech you not to let sin turn these precious truths to poison, by tempting you to think lightly of sin; and not by any means be driven from attempting to read, watch, meditate, and pray. In your present situation, this is the great danger. You will be strongly tempted to despondency and unbelief, and when these evils prevail, you will be tempted to neglect the means of grace as useless, or as means which you cannot use aright. Resist this temptation, and all will be well." Filial and fraternal duty happily recognized:" MY DEAR MOTHER:-I should sooner have answered your last, had I not expected, ere this, to see you. But the stage disappointed me. I had engaged a place in it, and sat up all night waiting for it, but it did not come. Thus, no doubt for some wise reasons, my visit to you was prevented. I had two particular reasons for wishing to come. One was, to talk with P. He is certainly wrong; he is entangled in a snare of Satan; he can pray, and he must pray; he has no excuse. His unwillingness to have you press him on the subject is wrong. I know all about it. I have been in the same snare myself. Whatever P. may now think, he will, sooner or later, be convinced that the grand difficulty lies, not in his nerves, but in his heart. I hope he will not pretend that his constitution is more shattered, or his health worse than mine. But I have never seen the time when I could not pray, if my heart was right. Let him not think, however, that I mean to censure him harshly. I have been too guilty myself, to allow of this. But I do beseech him, if he has any regard to his happiness here or hereafter, not to 328 MEMOIR OF let Satan persuade him that he is unable to pray. There have been many seasons, in which I could pray only while walking my study, and, even then, only in short, vehement ejaculations. If I knelt down, my head was so confused, that I could do nothing. Let him resolve that he will spend some time every day in prayer, if he can do nothing more than cry, Lord, pity me! Lord, help me!' He is ruined if he does not. " The other reason why I wished to see you, was, to know what your plans and wishes are respecting your place of residence, when H. moves. I thought that you might, perhaps, feel unwilling to move so far as New York. I hope it is needless to tell my dear mother, that if she chooses to make her home with us, we will do all in our power to make her home comfortable. I hope she will consult nothing but her own inclinations. If her children can do any thing to make the remainder of her days comfortable, I trust they all have a full disposition to do it. She has only to say the word, and we will place her where she thinks she will be most comfortable. " You will be glad to hear that, for a few weeks, I have enjoyed some respite from my sufferings. I observed the last anniversary of my ordination, and the first day of the present year, as days of fasting and prayer; and, though I could do little more than groan and sigh, a blessing has followed. I have suffered none too much. Not one pang could have been spared. Should I suffer hereafter, do not let it distress you. It is all necessary; all will be well at last." Trembling Christians directed to the source of joy and strength:" Many of the church have been so much distressed, that I thought it necessary to comfort them, if possible, and, on the Sabbath morning, preached from 1 Sam. xii. 20-24,' Fear not; ye have done all this wickedness,' &c. My design was, to show trembling, desponding Christians, that, notwithstanding all their great wickedness, they ought still to follow God with confidence and increasing diligence; and that, if they would do this, they need not despond, or despair, when God shows them what is in their hearts. Meditate on the passage, if you please; and I EDWARD PAYS ON. 329 hope it may encourage you as much as it did the church. I have preached more respecting Christ of late than ever; and am more and more convinced that the knowledge of Christ crucified is the one thing needful, the grand source of peace, and joy, and growth in grace. Count all things loss for the excellency of this knowledge; and pray for it more than for any thing else, and you will find it to be so." To a brother, who shrunk from his duty, through depression of mind, and an erroneous opinion of his own qualifications for the ministry. Lest any should use the authority of Dr. Payson's name to urge men to assume the sacred office without the requisite qualifications, it ought to be stated, that the person addressed in the following letter, besides possessing decided piety, had passed through a regular course of preparatory studies at a theological seminary:" 3Y DEAR BROTHER:-Your letter found me more than ordinarily hurried; but I feel it to be so important that you should be licensed this fall, that I must snatch a moment to answer it. Your feelings, as you describe them, are just like mine, only less aggravated by long continuance. I mention this that you may pay more regard to my advice. I am as certain that it is best for you to take license immediately, as I can be of any thing. Rely upon it, that, if you delay, your difficulties will increase, and you will feel more and more as if it was impossible to preach. Your only safety lies in placing yourself in circumstances which will make exertion necessary, and which will secure divine assistance. Never mind your infirmities. You have nothing to do with them. Your business is to trust, and go forward. If you wait till the sea becomes land, you will never walk on it. You must leave the ship, and, like Peter, set your feet upon the waves, and you will find them marble. Christ is a good Master. He wont suffer you to sink; and you will, at length, glory in your infirmities. I would not give up the precious proofs which I have received, in consequence of my weakness, of his power, faithfulness, and love, for all the comforts of good health. But be assured, that, if you remain as you are, Satan will weave a net round you, which you will never break. Every mental and religious effort 330 MEMOIR OF will become more difficult and painful; your mind will be like the body of a rickety child; you will live a burden to yourself and friends, and die without the consolation of having been made useful. This would infallibly have been my fate, had I not been thrust into the ministry before I well knew what I was about. Yet you see I have, somehow or other, been carried along, and so will you be. Do not then, my dear, dear brother, stand hesitating. A feeble, nervous man must not deliberate, but act; for his deliberation will not be worth a straw, but his activity may be, and probably will be, useful both to himself and others. " When Christ told his disciples to feed the multitude with five ]oaves, they did not hesitate, and say, Lord, let us first see the bread multiplied; if we begin and have not enough, we shall be put to shame; but they distributed what they had, and it increased with the distribution. So you will find it. You must, therefore, go forward. There is no reason why you should not. If you delay, indolence will steal upon you, and bind you in chains, which you will never break.' I charge you, then, before God and the Lord Jesus Christ, to be up and doing. There are fifty places in this State, where the most unconnected things, which your lips could utter, would do good, and be well received. You have no conception by what apparently feeble means God often works wonders. Let the next tidings I hear from you be, that you have crossed the Rubicon; or, rather, let me see you here forthwith, in the character of a preacher. " My health is as usual, but my Master is more than usually kind. At my request, the church lately had a special meeting to pray for me. God has heard them wonderfully, and my cup runs over. Prudential advice on the preservation of health, addressed to a student in divinity:"MY DEAR BROTHER:-I am sorry to learn that your health is not better, but rather worse, than when I was at R. Should it not have improved before you receive this, I beg you will attend to it without delay; attend to it, as your first and chief duty; for such. be assured, it is.'A merciful man is merciful to his EDWARD PA YSON. 331 beast;' and you must be merciful to your beast, or as Mr. M. would say, to your'animal.' Renember that it is your Master's property; and he will no more thank you for driving it to death, than an earthly master would thank a servant for riding a valuable horse to death, under pretence of zeal for his interest. The truth is, I am afraid Satan has jumped on to the saddle, and when he is there, in the guise of an angel of light, he whips and spurs at a most unmerciful rate, as every joint in my poor broken-winded animal can testify, from woful experience. He has temptations for the conscience, as Mr. Newton well observes; and when other temptations fail, he makes great use of them. Many a poor creature has he ridden to death, by using his conscience as a spur; and you must not be ignorant, nor act as if you were ignorant of his devices. Remember Mr. Brainerd's remark, that diversions, rightly managed, increased, rather than diminishedhisspirituality. I now feel that I am never serving our Master more acceptably, than when, for his sake, I am using means to preserve my health, and lengthen my life; and you must feel in a similar manner, if you mean to do him much service in the world. He knows what you would do for him if you could. He knows that your spirit is willing, when your flesh is weak. Do not think less favorably of him than you would of a judicious, affectionate father. Do not think that he requires you to labor, when such a father would enjoin rest or relaxation. Ride, then, or go a fishing, or employ yourself in any way, which will exercise the body gently, without wearying the rmind. Above all, make trial of the shower bath. You can easily fix up something which will answer the purpose. Try it, first, about ten o'clcck in the morning, when the weather is warm; and if you feel a glow after it, it does you good; but if it occasions chilliness, you must rather try a warm bath. My dear brother, do attend immediately to these hints, for much depends upon it." To two young sisters, the children of distant friends:"I wish to show you that I feel a deep interest in your eternal welfare, and am willing to do any thing in my power to promote it. There is a circumstance related in the book ot Judges, respecting the early part of Samson's life, which suggests 332 MEMOI OI OF some thoughts that may perhaps be useful to you. We are there told, that' the child grew, and that the Lord blessed him, and that the Spirit of the Lord began to move him at times.' I have no doubt that, in a little different sense, the Spirit of God begins, very early, to move, at times, upon the minds of children and young persons; especially of those, who, like Samson, have pious parents, and have been, like him, dedicated to God. IHe has thus, I believe, at times, moved upon your minds. Have you not reason to suppose that He has? Have you not sometimes had serious thoughts and feelings arise in your minds, without any apparent cause? Have you not found something within you which urged upon you the necessity of prayer, of remembering your Creator, and of preparing for death? My dear young friends, that something was the Spirit of God, moving upon your minds. Whenever such thoughts and feelings rise without any external cause, you may be certain that he is near you. Have you not also founld that religious instruction affects you very differently at different times? Sometimes, perhaps, it scarcely affects you at all. At other times, the same truths rake firm hold of your attention, and excite your feelings. Now, what occasions this difference? It is this. At one time, the Spirit of God presses home the truth upon your minds, and causes it to affect you. At another time, He does not apply it, and. then it produces no effect. Our Saviour, you recollect, compares the operations of the Spirit to those of the wind. Now, when you see the branches of a tree agitated, without any visible cause, you conclude, at once, that the wind is blowing upon them. Just so, when your minds are interested and affected in a serious manner by religious considerations, you may conclude that the Holy Spirit is moving upon them. And can you not recollect many seasons, or at least some seasons, in which He has thus moved upon them? If so, consider how great a favor, how great an act of condescension it was, on the part of God, thus to visit you. Had he sent an angel from heaven to warn you, you would have thought it a great favor. You would have been ready to ask, with surprise, Why does the infinite, everlasting God condescend to send an angel fiom heaven to promote our welfare? But for God to send His Spirit to move upon your minds, is a much greater favor, a nmuch greater act of condescension, than it would be to send an angel to you. O then, how EDWARD PAYSON. 333 greatly ought you to love and thank him for such a favor, and how carefully should you cherish, how humbly should you yield to the motions of this heavenly visitor! Are you still favored with his visits? Does he still move, at times, upon your minds? If so, be careful, 0 be scrupulously careful, not to grieve Him, and cause Him to forsake you. But perhaps he has already withdrawn from you. If so, will you not implore His return? Will you not, after reading this, kneel down and say,'Lord, I have ungratefully neglected and grieved thy good Spirit, and He has justly withdrawn from me. It would bejust, should He never return to me. Yet, in thy great mercy, let Him return, and again move upon my mind, let Him come, and enlighten and sanctify me.' Let this be your daily urgent request." To his parents under various and accumulated afflictions:"What a catalogue of trials does your letter contain! I am more and more convinced of what I have long suspected, that God tries his people, first, with inward, spiritual trials; and, then, when they have acquired some degree of experience, and faith has become strong, he visits them with outward afflictions. "Dr. Owen says, that Heb. xii. 6 ought to be rendered,'whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth; yea, also, he severely chastiseth, above the ordinary measure, those sons whom he accepts, and peculiarly delights in.' If this rendering be correct,-and the doctor certainly makes it appear so,-my parents have reason to think themselves special favorites. Perhaps, for a short time before death, God's people may be, in a measure, exempted from both inward and outward trials. " I have tried to write, because your letter ought to be answered, and because I wished to write something consolatory under your afflictions; but I can only echo back your groans!" To a Christian brother of rank and wealth:"I have thought much of your situation, since I left you. It is but seldom that God gives one of his children so many temporal blessings, as he has given you. He has hitherto preserved you, and will, I trust, continue to preserve you, from the evils. which attend a state of prosperity. But it is, as you are aware, 334 M E M 0 IR OF a dangerous state, and calls for great watchfulness, and nmuchl prayer. You are, doubtless, conscious of many evil propensities working within; but they may work long, and produce much internal mischief, before their effects become external and visible to others. The effects of temporal prosperity upon the mind, resemble thqse of an unhealthy atmosphere upon the body. The constitution is gradually, and almost insensibly, undermined and weakened; and yet no particular part can be pointed out, as the seat of the disease, for the poison is diffused through the whole system. Spiritual lassitude, the loss of spiritual appetite, and an indisposition to vigorous spiritual exertion, are some of the first perceptible symptoms, that the poison of prosperity is at work. When a man detects these symptoms in himself, it is time for him to be alarmed. If he delays a little longer, the disease will make such progress, as to render him insensible to his danger. Were I placed in such a situation, I should be ruined in six months. Still, your situation is, in one respect, desirable. It is one in which you may do much for the glory of God, and the promotion of his cause." To his revered mother, on leaving her habitation, at the final dispersion of her family, August, 1824:"MY DEAR MOTHER:-I was a little surprised, when you were with us, to hear you say nothing of the unpleasantness of being obliged, at your age, to remove far from the place where you had spent so many years. It seemed to me that such a removal must involve many circumstances which would be very disagreeable, and even painful. But, as you said little or nothing on the subject, I concluded that it did not appear equally unpleasant to you. It seems from your letter, however, that the time of trial had not then arrived, and that you have since been troubled about your removal as I expected you would be. I am glad to find that the trial has now lost something of its bitterness, and that you feel reconciled to go where Providence calls. You have some illustrious examples, among God's ancient servants, to encourage and instruct you. Abraham, called to leave his country and his father's house, and Jacob, obliged in his old age to go down into Egypt, had trials harder, probably than yours, though of the same nature. But they went, EDWARD PAYSON. 335 and God went with them; and he will go with you; doubt it not. On the other hand, see how he dealt with his enemies.' Moab hath been at ease from his youth, and hath not been emptied from vessel to vessel; therefore his taste remaineth in him, and his scent is not changed.' You have not been at ease from your youth, and you have been emptied from vessel to vessel, and you are now to be emptied again from one vessel to another. And surely this is better than to be treated like MToab, and possess his character. Besides, as God said to Jacob, in his old age,' Fear not to go down into Egypt;' so he says to you,' Fear not to go wherever I call; for my presence shall go with you.' I hope you feel no anxieties of a pecuniary nature. While one of your children has any thing, you will not want. But why do I say this? Rather let me say, The Lord is your Shepherd, and, while he possesses any thing, you shall not want. Poor tis " too, will be taken care of. As to -i-@ @' I can only say, once more, Leave him with his Master. He knows what to do with him, and he will do all things well. If he chooses rather that *t'@-+ should suffer, he will overrule all his sufferings for good. Only pray for him and then leave him. "I preached yesterday on this passage:-' Though he will not give him because he is his friend, yet, because of his importunity, he will rise and give him as many as he needeth.' This, as well as the parable of the unjust judge, evidently teaches, that importunate prayer will prevail when nothing else can. A man may pray ten times, and be denied; and yet, by praying ten times more, obtain the blessing. Had the Syro-Phlonician ceased, after making three applications to Christ, she would have gone away empty; but, by applying once more, she obtained all that she asked. " It has been a titme of trial with me, as well as with you since we parted. I have been reduced lower, in point of health, than on any former occasion. For four weeks I was unable to preach, and doubted whether I should ever preach more. But this was all my trial, and I was kept very quiet. My sermon on'Be still,' &c., followed me, and God, in mercy, inclined me to be still. My people urged me very strongly to make a voyage to Europe, and offered to supply the pulpit and pay all my expenses: But, though I should like well enough to see Europe, I 33) MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. could not feel any freedom to go. I did not like to have so much expense lavished upon me, nor did I know how to lose so much time as such a voyage would require. I am now better, and have been able to preach the three last Sabbaths. But I seem to preach in vain. There is no noise nor shaking among the dry bones; and, even of the church, I may almost say, There is no breath in them. But I am kept from impatience, and am not quite discouraged. As I know how desirous you feel that your children should love each otler, I would tell you, if I could, how much I love E. I loved her much before her last visit, and she endeared herself still more to us during that visit. I believe, too, that I love my brotllers pretty well. Do tell them so. What you say respectinlg the complaints of ninisters who visit us, I lhave heard before. I do not wonder at it. They have some reason to complain. But the reason of our apparent coldness is what you suppose it to be. Pressed down to the very dust, as I usually am, I cannot always dress my countenance in smiles, nor prevent it from expressing my sufferings. Hence I am unpopular among ministers. It is a trial, but I cannot help it." CHAPTER XVIII. lTis private character-His affections and demeanor as a husband, father, master, fiiend-IJis gratitude, economy, generosity-His temper of mind under injuries. IT is not every character that will bear a close inspection. The more intimately some men are viewed, the less veneration and respect are felt for them. This is true of some in elevated stations, and possessing ho small share of public confidence. Even the church presents this anomaly. A man may bear a saint-like visage abroad, and yet be a very fiend in his own family; may put on meekness and devotion in a worshipping assembly, while he is the haughty tyrant of his wife and children; may preach self-denial and condescension, and yet carry it lordly towards the inmates of his own dwelling, making them the ministers'of his will and pleasure, or else imbittering their existence by his savage temper and unreasonable complaints. Professional men, whose public duties are very numerous and urgent, are liable to fail in many of those minute regards which contribute so much to heighten the " only bliss Of paradise which has survived the fall." With the prevailing desire and purpose to yield to every claim its due consideration, they are in danger of thinking that they do well if they are only indifferent to those of the least imposing VOL. I. 43 338 MEMVOIR OF description which originate in their domestic relations: that they are not only cxcusable, but disinterested and praiseworthy, in neglecting, from devotion to the public welfare, the ten thousand little attentions to a wife's comfort and children's instruction and enjoyment, which, though each requires but a moment's time, and, taken singly, scarcely deserves specification, constitute, in the aggregate, the principal part of domestic felicity. But a man's circumstances must be very peculiar, to render these two classes of duties incompatible with each other. The look of affection, the kind word seasonably interposed, the helping hand which love extends, the eye ever awake to anticipate the little wants of the household, the heart prompt to seize opportunities to soothe sorrow, to calm excited feelings, to inspire and promote joy, and to alleviate the burden of maternal anxieties and cares which press incessantly upon the wife, —wlat sacrifice of public duty do these require' Yet \wllo can calculate the misery which they prevent, or tlie blessedness which they confer' As it is not great calamities which render men unhappy, but petty injuries, and provocations, and disalppointments, constantly recurring, too trifling to excite public sympathy, or to be made the subject of loud colmplaint, — so it is not insulated acts of profuse generosity, and widely separated, though extravagant expressions of affection, which constitute the reality or tlle lappiness of friendship-especially of a fiiendship so pure and elldearing as ought ever to subsist between those whllo are united by conjugal ties. These holy bonds are cemented and strengtllened by daily and hourly acts and expressions of kindness. And where, in the, whole compass of motives, could a consideration be found to enforce this conjugal tellerness, so affecting and impressive as that example of love to wlhichl St. Paul refers the husband for a pattern of his own dulty?-and it may be added what other reference could have con ferred such exalted honor on the marriage relation?'! THusbatnds, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church. Be not bitter against them." This was Dr. Payson's law in all that pertained to conjugal duties; and to this his daily practice exhibited as exact a conformity, perhaps, as is ever seen in this state of imperfection. Reasons have already been suggested, why a sparing use slould be made of those letters which exhibit his tenderness and fidelity in this relation; but a few extracts may wvith propriety be introduced: ED WARD P A SO N. 339 AT SEA, MIAY 10, 181. " MY DEAR WIFE:-As this is the first time I have had occasion to address a letter to you since we were married, I thought it necessary, before I began, to consider, a few moments, by what title to address you. The result of my meditations was a determination to employ the term' wife' in preference to any other. If you ask why I prefer that name, I answer, Because it reminds me that you are mine, my own. I might call you'Dear Louisa,'Dear friend,' or'Dear' any thing else —and it might mean only that you were a sister, a fiiend, or a favorite. But, when I call you'My wife,' it seems to me to mean every thing sweet, amiable, and endearing. It not only reminds me that she to whom I write is, under God, mine, but that she is mine by the gift and appointment of God —mine by the sacred bond of marriage, which seems to give an air of sacredness to our union. After all, I have not said what I meant to say, but something a little like it. So do you try to imagine what I meant to say, and then confess that I have succeeded better than you, in choosing a title with which to head a letter. For my own part, I would rather you should call me' Dear husband,' than' Dear friend,' or' Dear Edwxard,' &c. However call me by what name you please, your letters will always be precious while they continue to utter the language of affection. I have just been reading one of two which I have already found among my baggage. If you knew the pleasure they gave me, you would feel well paid for the trouble of writing. I fully intended to write at least one to you, and leave it behind me; but I could think of no place to put it, in which you would be certain to find it. But I must hasten to give you some account of our voyage:-' Friday and Saturday, we had fair winds and pleasant weather, and I was not at all sea-sick. But on Sunday, it began to rain and blow hard. In the evening, it increased to quite a gale, but was still favorable; so that, on Mlonday noon we found ourselves, by observation, ninety miles south of Philadelphia. Since that time, we have been beating about, vainly trying to get within the capes of Delaware. We have just taken a pilot on board, and hope to reach Philadelphia in about fbrty-eight hours. Since the gale on Sunday, the doctor and I have been very sick, and able to eat nothing. For two days 340 MEMOIR OF and nights, without intermission, I was tormented with one of my nervous head-aches. This morning it has left me, and I begin to feel something like an appetite. I will only add now, as an excuse for writing so miserably, that I am, at this moment, tossing and rolling about worse than a boy in a swing, or on the end of a plank. Every thing near me, which is movable, rolls from side to side incessantly; and I should do the same, did I not hold on to something stable. 1 will, therefore, defer the conclusion of my letter till I am more established." PHILADELPHIA, MAY 11. " We arrived here last night, after a most delightfiul sail up the Delaware. Wind and tide both favored us, so that we came at the rate of eleven miles an hour, for ten hours successively. Scarcely ever have I experienced so much pleasure in one day. Every body seemed happy. Dr. and I were in high health and spirits; the prospect on* the banks of the river was delightful and changing every moment; the day was fine, andtthe swiftness of our motion was very agreeable; and, to crown all, I saw God in his works, and tasted of his goodness in every thing. Excess of pleasure was almost painful; before light, I was fairly weary of enjoyment, and wished for sleep. I'thought of you almost every moment; and nothing but the presence of yourself and the children was wanting, to render me as happy as I can ever be in this world. Last night I dreamed that I had reached home. I felt your tears of affection upon my cheek, and little Edward's arms round my neck; but I awoke, and it was a dream. I have not yet been ashore. Every body on board is in a bustle; the passengers hastening to visit their friends, and I standing away in one corner alone, talking with my best, dearest earthly friend. You, at the distance of five hundred miles, have more attractions for me than the whole city of Philadelphia, which lies spread out beforeme, and on which I have scarcely, as yet, bestowed a glance. If I did not write thus early, I should not be able to send my letter to-day; and you would be obliged to wait one day longer before you heard from us. I now begin to regret that I did not urge you more to meet me at New Haven. It would be a gratification to have you so much nearer to me, and to think of meeting EDWARD PAYSON. 341 you so much sooner. 1 still have a faint hope that you will be there. " Kiss the children for me; talk to them about me; love me as I do you, better than I did-yes, far better than I did, when I wrote the last letter to you before we were married. Love to all who inquire for me. God be with you, bless you, keep you my dear, dear wife. " So prays your affectionate husband." In a letter written during another season of absence, is the following beautiful passage, in which the gentle and the severe are most charmingly blended:" Though your letter was consoling, it grieved me for a moment. It did not seem to breathe so much tenderness as your former letters. But I soon perceived the reason. Your mind was braced up to help me bear my burdens; and in such a state of mind, it is not easy to feel or express tenderness. I hope you will remember this remark. You know that I am often obliged, while at home, to put on all the iron I can command, in order to bear up against trials and discouragements; and many times, when you know nothing of it, I am engaged in most distressing inward conflicts. Now, how can a man seem tender and affectionate at such a time? How could a soldier, in the heat of battle, stop to smile upon his wife, or kiss his children? Even if he spoke to them at such a time, the highly raised state of his feelings would, probably, give something like sharpness to his voice. But I forbear excuses. Christ was tender and affectionate in the severest agonies, the most distressing conflicts. I hope, if I am ever permitted to return, you will find me a little more like him than I have been." In his strictly domestic letters, he sometimes hits off the different humors, peculiarities, relations, and circumstances of himself and his connexions, with inimitable vivacity, and a sportiveness which shows how easily a great man can unbend himself when occasion requires. A short passage from the close of one such letter will serve as'a specimen of the qualities alluded to; and, like his saitre upon quackery, may serve a more 342 MEMOIR OF important purpose than mere amusement. In the keen irony which pervades it, is an effectual rebuke of that doating partiality, which leads so many parents to think their own children prodigies of genius:" As to baby, she is to be the greatest genius, and the greatest beauty in these parts. I could easily fill a sheet with proofs of her talents. Suffice it to say, that she has four teeth; stands alone; says pa' and ma'; no-no-very stoutly, and has been whipped several times for being wiser than her father." With a heart always more ready to confer favors than to receive them, his condition was very frequently such, that he needed rather "to be ministered unto, than to minister;" but the most agonizing suffering of body, when exempted from depression of mind, never rendered him the less cheerful and agreeable husband and father. It is astonishing how " lightly he esteemed such afflictions.' They seemed to affect him almost as little as violence inflicted on a block or a stone. His demeanor under bodily agonies has often been such, that he was rather envied than pitied by his family and attendants. These were, indeed, seasons of unusual gayety and cheerfulness. He has left a description of the accumulated evils that were crowded into a few days, into which his playful imagination has thrown so much of humor, as to divest the subject of its repulsive character, and clothe it with no ordinary attractions. But it is chiefly interesting as an illustration of a happy temper:" Since I wrote last, I have been called to sing of mercy and judgment. My old friend, the Sick Head-ache, has favored me with an unusual share of his company, and has seemed particularly fond of visiting me on the Sabbath. Then came Cholera Morbus, and, in a few hours, reduced me so low, that I could have died as easily as not. Rheumatism next arrived, eager to pay his respects, and embraced my right shoulder with such ardor of affection, that he had well nigh torn it from its socket. I had not thought much of this gentleman's powers before; but he has convinced me of them so thoroughly, that I shall think and speak of them with respect as long as I live. Not EDWARD PAYSON.. 343 content with giving me his company all day, for a fortnight together, he has insisted on sitting up with me every night, and, what is worse, made me sit tip too. During this time, my poor shoulder, neck, and back, seemed to be a place in which the various pains and aches had assembled to keep holiday; and the delectable sensations of stinging, pricking, cutting, lacerating, wrenching, burning, gnawing, &c., succeeded each other, or all mingled together, in a confusion that was far from being pleasing. The cross old gentleman, though his zeal is somewhat abated by the fomentations, blisters, &c., with which we welcomed him, still stands at my back threatening that he will not allow me to finish my letter. But enough of him and his companions. Let me leave them for a more pleasing theme. "God has mercifully stayed his rough wind in the day of his east wind. No horrible, hell-born temptations, no rheumatism of the mind has been allowed to visit me in my sufferings; but such consolations, such heavenly visits, as turned agony into pleasure, and constrained me to sing aloud, whenever I could catch my breath long enough to utter a stanza. Indeed, I have been ready to doubt whether pain be really an evil; for, though more pain was crowded into last week, than any other week of my life, yet it was one of the happiest weeks I ever spent. And now I am ready to say, Come what will come -sickness pain, agony, poverty, loss of friends-only let God come with them, and they shall be welcome. Praised, blessed forever, be his name, for all my trials and afflictions! There has not been one too many-all were necessary, and good, and kind." How perfectly versed was he in the heavenly art of extracting the choicest sweets from the bitterest cup! — honey out of the rock, and oil out of the flinty rock." How much anguish must such a demeanor under sufferings have saved "the partners of his blood!" What rare and exquisite enjoyment must it have imparted to them, to witness a happiness which the calamities of life could -not mar! It was surely an enviable privilege to enjoy instructions rendered so emphatical and impressive by the circumstances of the teacher. In another extract may be seen the tender yearnings of a father's heart-a heart, nevertheless, in a state of sweet subjection to " the Father of spirits, who chasteneth us for our profit, that we may be partakers of his holiness.": 344 MEMOIR OF "MAY 13, 1816. "Your welcome letter, my dear mother, has just arrived. You would pity me, if you knew in what circumstances I sit down to answer it. For ten days I have been in what Dr. Young calls' the post of observation, darker every hour.' Poor little Caroline lies before me, writhing under the agonies of dropsy in the head. The physicians have given her over. Louisa sits before me making her shroud; yet she will probably live a week longer; her distress increasing every day, till death closes it. I thought that I was almost without natural affection; that I did not love my children; but I find, to my cost, that I do. Her distress wrings every nerve and fibre of my heart. If you have ever seen a person die of this dreadful disorder, I need not describe it. If you have not, description can give you but little idea of it. I am, however, mercifully spared the keener distress of being unreconciled to the trial. As yet, I can bless the name of the Lord, and I bless him that I can. Whether I shall continue to feel so to the end, he only knows. It is painful to see her suffer for my sins. It is dreadful to think of having provoked such a being as God is, to inflict such sufferings. But it is right. The affliction is too light, as indeed, every affliction short of eternal death would be. I find a great difference between the effect of suffering in my own person, and in the person of another. Personal sufferings seem to harden the heart, and make me selfish, so that I can feel little for others. They will drag one's attention home to himself. But suffering in the person of another seems to have an effect directly opposite, and is, therefore, more beneficial. I needed some such trialto teach me how to sympathize with my people in similar circumstances." For more than a week afterwards, he watched this child, "struggling between life and death " -the victim of complicated diseases, the effects of which it would be difficult to describe and almost congeals one's blood to read. Yet he was calm " as the morning when the sun ariseth; " and, though his health was impaired by watching, in addition to his labors, he says of this season-" It has been, on the whole, a happy week. I have been unusually free from spiritual trials; and a:ly thing which frees me from them is a blessing. Be not distressed on our account. We are happy, and can sing,'sweet affliction;' &c. I would not but have had it on any account. " EDWARD PAYSON. 345 It will add nothing to the strength of the impression produced by these extracts, to say, that he was a most kind and telder husband, a most faithful and affectionate father; but it is adding something to their import, to affirm that, in him, these qualities were uniform, and manifested in his daily intercourse with his household. He was the companion of his children. Not unfrequently would he descend, as it were, to their level, and mingle, for a few moments, in their pastimes, and even invent new diversions for them; particularly such as would call forth exertions of skill and ingenuity- so that their very amusements might prove a profitable exercise, and contribute to the development of their intellectual faculties. Games of chance, and every thing which bore a distant resemblance to them, he utterly disallowed. He delighted to amuse them with pictures; at the same time pouring into their minds a knowledge of the arts, or of historical characters, or of geographical and statistical facts, or of the natural history of animals, or whatever else would be most readily suggested by the picture. Often would he entertain his children, either from the stores of his own memory, or from his still richer invention, with tales and fables; from which it was their task to deduce the moral, as an exercise of their perceptive and reasoning faculties, in pay for the entertainment which he had afforded them. If they failed, he would, of course, make the application himself. So far as he exerted himself for the intellectual advancement of his children, he did it not so much by set lessons, and at seasons set apart for that purpose exclusively, as by incidental instructions. There were many days when his engagements left him no time to meet them, except at their meals; thenindeed it was his common practice-he would improve the time spent at the table for this purpose-proposing various questions, and inviting inquiries from them, always leaving them with a subject for consideration, and often calling upon them at night, to mention any new idea which they might have acquired during the day. He was much devoted to the welfare of his children; and his cares, burdens and maladies, were oppressive indeed, when they did not share a father's attention. To instruct them in religion, was, of course his first care. Here, also, he wisely consulted their age and capacities, and VOL. I. 44 346 MEMOIR OF imparted it, in measure and kind, as they were able to bear. He doubted the expediency of giving religious instruction only at stated periods, and dealing it out with parade and formality, and in tedious addresses. His motto was -"line upon line, precept upon precept; here a little, and there a little," as occasion offered, or the emergency demanded. But he was master, as well as father; "one that ruled well his own house, having his children in subjection with all gravity." He habitually explained his commands to such of his children as were of sufficient age to understand and appreciate them; and always referred to the Scriptures, as the umpire from whose decisions there was no appeal. " The Bible says thus, " was the invariable and ultimate argument for enforcing obedience. Appeals of this kind contribute greatly to inspire an early reverence for the sacred book. It was a willing obedience, and from exalted principles, which he aimed to secure. He treated his servants as fellow creatures-as if he believed, that "God made of one blood all the people that dwell upon the earth " -as if he expected to stand with them at the bar, where " he shall have judgment without mercy, who hath showed no mercy." They shared his religious instructions, and were remembered in his prayers. He also exacted of his children, as an inviolable duty, kind and considerate treatment towards the domestics. To several of them his,ounsels and prayers were blessed. To one, who had been anxious for her own salvation in consequence of his previous fidelity, and apparently lost her impressions, he affectionately said, as she entered the parlor, bearing a pitcher of water - I hope the time may never come, when you will long for a drop of that water to cool your tongue. " It was a word in season-she became a Christian. Another was about to leave his family for a gay circle, with the prospect of entering a new relation, from which he apprehended danger to her soul. At family prayer, the last time she was expected to be present, he prayed that the separation might not be eternal. The petition was remembered; she soon returned to her service in his family, exhibited evidence of conversion, and afterwards died in faith. This tenderness involved no sacrifice of dignity or authority on his part; nor did it cause insubordination on the part of servants, but in most cases, a more willing and faithful service. EDWARD PAYSON. 347 In his family devotions he was never tedious. They were always impressive, and adapted with surprising appropriateness to the existing circumstances of the household. He delighted to address Jehovah through Christ, as his God, by covenant; and hence he derived, some of those powerful arguments which he pleaded in intercession for his children, and one strong ground of hope that God would convert and save them. To obtain any adequate conception of the manner in which God was acknowledged and honored in his habitation, recourse must be had, as in other instances, to his own language:" APRIL. 1816.' Another precious passage is that in Zechariah,'In that day shall there be upon the bells of the horses, Holiness to the Lord,' &c. I preached on it lately, and, among other things, observed, that, in that day, every action would be performed as the most solemn religious duties are now; every house and place would be a temple; every day like a Sabbath; and evey meal like the Lord's supper. We have since been trying to have the prophecy fulfilled at our house; and, though we succeed miserably enough, yet the bare attempt has given us a happiness unknown before. One thing, which has been greatly blessed to us, is, having family prayer at noon, as well as morning and evening. It showed us how far we often get from God during the day, even when we begin and close it with him. In some families, this would be impossible; and then half an hour spent alone would answer the purpose as well. I find that it requires almost constant rubbing and chafing to make the blood circulate in such frozen souls as ours; and, after all, it avails nothing, if the Sun of Righteousness does not shine. " Dr. Payson. was the father of eight children, two of whom, a son and a daughter, he followed to the grave. Six survive him, two daughters and four sons. Many persons were honored with a large share of Dr. Payson's confidence; but it is very doubtful whether he ever poured out all of the feelings of his bosom to any beyond his nearest relations, if, indeed, he did to any besides his God. It required a reach of sympathy beyond what man is ordinarily I. 34S MEMOIR OF capable of exercising, to enter deeply into his experience. He could not bring himself to tell of the peculiar agonies or raptures, which by turns tortured and blessed him, to any heart that could not send back a response. And where, almost, could that heart be found? And in this, the writer, while tracing his religious experience, has often thought he was justified by the example of Paul, after his rapture. Still, while there were secrets in his own bosom of too sacred a character to be made common by participation, his intercourse with his flock, individually, was that of a highly endearing, tender, and confidential friendship. "If there were ever a minister "- these are his own words-"blessed with a kind and faithful people, I am. If I were not so often sick, I should be too happy. When I come into my congregation, I feel as a father, surrounded by his children. I do not feel as though there were an ill disposed person among them. I can throw off my armor without fearing that an enemy is there with a dagger ready to stab me." Their affection was most fully and faithfully reciprocated. Never did a minister more ardently love his charge, or enter with more facility into all their interests and feelings. When any of them were visited with calamity, he was among the very first to tender his sympathy; and always left them "lightened." In listening to his conversation and prayers, the burden would often fall off. " Beside the bed where parting life was laid, And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed," he was at once faithful and tender; and if " Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul," it was because it had been pointed to the " smitten Rock," to the " Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world." " Comfort came down, the trembling wretch to raise. And his last filtering accents whispered praise." He was eminently susceptible of gratitude. A favor, whichll would be received with a very summary acknowledgement by nmany, would make his " shoulders ache under the load of obligation that was laid upon them." And if he "bore it pretty well, it was because nothing renders a man so careless about increasing his debts, as the consciousness that he shall never be able to pay." EDWARD PAYSON. 349 Economy was a very noticeable feature in his character. It was a principle with him to spend nothing merely for ornament. lThe money which came into his possession he regarded as a talent for which lie was accountable; and so scrupulous was he, as to the disposition which he made of it, that he is thought to have regarded some things as forbidden luxuries, which would have been for his welfare. In his furniture, in his apparel, and that of his household, and in the provisions of his table, there was a plainness and simplicity well becoming a man professing and teaching godliness. Connected with this quality was a noble generosity of soul. He did not save to hoard, but to bless others. He did not love money for its own sake; and so obvious to all was his disinterestedness, that, so far as is known, he never fell under the charge or even the suspicion of being avaricious. If the temporal or spiritual necessities of his fellow creatures demanded relief, his money was as free for their use as a cup of cold water. He had declined purchasing an article of convenience for the family one morning, because, as it was not absolutely necessary, he thought they could not afford it. The same day he gave ten dollars to a woman in reduced circullstances, who called at his house. At another time, he said to his church, who had handed,in their contribution of fifty or sixty dollars, for foreign missions-" I am ashamed to send so small a sunm, and shall forward one hundred dollars, as your contribution; and you may act your pleasure about indemnifying ime." These are only instances out of a multitude; the same liberality characterized him as long as he lived. He continned to give, till after he was unable to put his name to a subscription paper. It was with reluctance that he received from his people what they were forward to give as a compensation for his services; and for two successive years, he actually relinquished four hundred dollars. He never would have possessed a dwelling-house in fee, if his people had waited for his consent. Acting according to the impulse of their own liberality, and their convictions of what was due to him, in return for the sumns which hle had relinquished, they purchased and secured to him by deed, a house more spacious than he would have chosen; and this was all his property, beyond actual expenditures, which he did not give away. Il this connexion a document will be introduced, containing 350' ME MOIR OF a request, such as it would be equally honorable to ministers and people, if there were more frequent occasion for:To the members of the Second Parish in Portland, in parish meeting assembled:'" GENTLEMEN:-It is a circumstance which claims my thankful acknowledgements, and of which I hope ever to retain a grateful recollection, that, while many ministers are constrained to ask: and, perhaps, ask in vain, for an increase of salary, the only request relative to a support, which I have ever had occasion to present to you, is, that my salary may be diminished. Such a request, you will recollect, I made, through the medium of one of the parish, at your last annual meeting; but your kindness and liberality prevented you from complying with it. I now repeat that request in writing. The salary which you voted me at the time of my settlement, is amply sufficient for my support; and more than this I am unwilling to receive; for I can never consent to acquire wealth by preaching the gospel of Christ. Permit me, then, respectfully, but earnestly, to request that addition which you have so generously made to my salary, the last two years, may be discontinued. " That the Master whom I serve may repay all your kindness to his servant, is the first wish and most earnest prayer of!"Your deeply indebted and grateful pastor, " EDWARD PAYSON. " PORTLAND, APRIL 27, 1821." In the same spirit, after his last sickness had made such inroads upon his strength, as almost wholly to disqualify him for exertion, he dictated the following communication:" APRIL 27, 1827. " To the members of the Second Congregational Church in Portland, in parish meeting assembled:" BRETHREN AND FRIENDS:-Of the kindness and generosity with which you have invariably treated me, ever since I became your pastor, and especially since the commencement of my present indisposition, I am deeply sensible. Nor have you given me the smallest reason to suppose, that your kindness is EDW RD PAYSON. 351 exhausted, or even diminished. But I must not allow myself to encroach upon it too far. It is my indispensible duty to prefer your spiritual welfare to every personal consideration. If I have reason to believe that your religious interests would be promoted by a dissolution of the connexion between us, it is incumbent on me to request, that it may be dissolved; and to retire from a station, the ditties of which I am no longer able to perform. And have I not reason to believe that such is the fact? With the present state of my health you are sufficiently acquainted. It has already occasioned you much trouble and expense. You have waited a reasonable time for its restoration; and the probability that it will ever be restored, is by no means great. It is highly important that such a society as this should enjoy the services of a minister who possesses a vigorous constitution, firm health, and ministerial qualifications of the first order; and the salary which it gives entitles it to expect, and will enable it to command, the services of such a minister. In view of these circumstances, I feel a prevailing persuasion, that it is my duty to propose a dissolution of the connexion between us, and to request you to unite with me in calling a council for the purpose of dissolving it. Such a proposition and request I now submit to you. "That on this and every other occasion you may be guided by that wisdom which is from above, and led to the adoption of such me(asures as shall be most conducive to the glory of God, and your own best interests, is the prayer of " Your affectionate friend and pastor, " EDWARD PAYSON." This request was received and treated in a manner most honorable to the parish. Their reply to it expressed the most " deep and affectionate sympathy with their much esteemed pastor, and a sense of their high obligations for the very valuable services, which a kind Providence had permitted and enabled him to perform for a long course of years; and appreciating his present services, much as they were interrupted and curtailed by sickness, of paramount value and interest to them, they did respectfully solicit that he would be pleased to w;thdraw his request; and thus permit them to hope, that, whatever might be the state of his health in future, they should enjoy 352 MEMIOIR OF the benefit of his counsel and prayers, till he was called to receive the reward prepared for the faithful servants of Christ." With these wishes, so affectionately and gratefully expressed, he complied; and continued, in such ways as he could, to advance their spiritual interests, till removed by the undoubted will of God. But there are, in the lives of eminently faithful ministers, events of another character, which it is painful to'narrate, and yet which ought not to be passed over in silence. The hostility which they sometimes experience, illustrates the depravity of mankind, and confirms the authority of Scripture by evincing the truth of the declaration,-" If any man will live godly in Christ Jesus, he shall suffer persecution." We need not be surprised, therefore, that Dr. Payson should have been wickedly assailed in his character, as a preacher of a kindred spirit was assailed before him. It is related of Richard Baxter, that when he was shaking the strong holds of error and iniquity at Kidderminster, a drunken slanderer reported concerning him, that he had been seen under a tree with a profligate woman; and thus he was made "the song of the drunkards." But the defamer, being brought into court, was obliged to explain, that he had only seen Mr. Baxter, on a rainy day, on horseback, under an oak, which grew in a hedge, while a woman was standing for shelter on the other side of the hedge. A still heavier charge had been brought against one of his predecessors at Kidderminster, the Rev. John Cross. A wicked woman had been hired to bring the charge; but Mr. Cross, at her examination, placed himself among the magistrates, dressed as they were; and she was asked, if one of them was the man, she looked at them, and said, No; and thus her malice was defeated. A wicked woman once brought against Dr. Payson an accusation, under circumstances which seemed to render it impossible that he should escape. She was in the same packet, in which, many months before, he had gone to Boston. For a time, it seemed almost certain that his character would be ruined. He was cut off from all resource, except the throne of grace. He felt that his only hope was in God; and to him he addressed his fervent prayer. He was heard by the Defender of the innocent. A "compunctious visiting" induced the EDWARD PAYSON. 353 wretched woman to confess that the whole was a malicious slander. He was such "a terror to evil doers," that they seemed bent on destroying his reputation; and multiplied their malicious slanders, till they ceased to gain any credence even with the vilest. "It can't be true," said an opposer, respecting a base calumny of Dr. Payson. "No," said another; "but I would give - dollars, if it were." When these cruel and malicious designs upon his character proved abortive, their enmity manifested itself in other forms. He once alludes to this opposition in his letters. It was in a year eminently distinguished by God's blessing on his labors:" JULY 4, 1816. _- Enemies rage most terribly. You have probably seen in the papers an account of the attempt to burn our meeting-house. We have not discovered the author; but there is no doubt that - are at the bottom of it. It was little less than a miracle that the house was not burnt, with many others. Never, since I have been here, has the enmity of the heart been permitted to rage as it does now. xvery one, except my own people, seems ready to curse me; and I am weary of living in continual strife." The good man at length found rest from this strife. He came out of every trial untarnished-yea, the brighter for the ordeal. No charge could be sustained against him, but such as was urged against the prophet in Babylon; and the ultimate issue was not, perhaps, essentially different. It was increased respect for him, and veneration for his God. VOL. I...45 D CHAPTER XIX. Further particulars relating to his personal history, and religious exercises, in connexion with his pastoral labors and their results. IT was not thought desirable to interrupt a description of the "pastor in action," by frequent references to dates; or to pay any special regard to chronological order in a rehearsal of scenes and employments, which were more or less common to every year of his ministry. In this chapter, that order is resumed for the purpose of continuing the history of his religious experience through the various occurrences and vicissitudes of his life. The particulars will be given almost entirely in his own language, and in insulated extracts, which will be found, however, to possess the principal advantages of a connected narrative, beside several others, which no second-hand statements could secure. They were sketched at the time, and have the vividness of first impressions in view of truths and facts as they were successively brought under notice, while the circumstances in which they were penned are a sufficient guarantee of their accuracy. The articles of intelligence and modes of elucidating and enforcing truth, which are interspersed, will enhance their value; while they will enable the reader to view the subject of this Memoir in a greater variety of attitudes, and to learn his exercises and feelings in numerous circumstances; in prosperity, and under the rod; when borne along on the full tide of success, and when thwarted at every step; when religion was triumphant, and when "the ways of Zion mourned." PORTLAND, JUNE 14, 1813.: MY DEAR MOTHER:-We arrived here last Friday, in safety, EDWARD PAYSON. 355 and found every thing had been preserved by our merciful Protector. We very soon had reason to acknowledge how much his protection is superior to ours; for, the very night after our return, our garden was laid waste. " For a few days after my return, I was exceedingly unwell, and there seemed less prospect of my continuing in the ministry than ever. In addition, I was more severely exercised with spiritual trials than I have been for two years past; so that the five days succeeding my return were, perhaps, as dark as any five days that I ever experienced. But now, blessed be God, the scene has wonderfully changed. For three days, I have felt something more like health than I have enjoyed for years; something of that spring and elasticity of spirit, which used to render life tolerable, and exertion pleasant. How long it will continue, I know not. It seems too good to last. I see, however, already, that if the burden of sickness is to be removed, some other burden, perhaps a worse one, must be imposed in its place. I am ready to run wild with the pleasure of not feeling pain; though, even now, I am not altogether free from it. If my health should be restored, I shall consider it as little less than a miracle; and shall feel as if your deafness may be removed. Indeed I think it will strengthen my faith as mucht as it will my body. It will also remove some spiritual difficulties and doubts, which have been a terrible hinderance to me in my race, and given unbelief more advantage over me than all other things united. But how I ramble! " We have little encouraging of a religious nature, though the church are, I believe, much engaged. They ought to be; for I find that' Portland Christians' have, at least, a name to live at the westward; a better name, I fear, than they will ere long deserve, even if they merit it now." SEPT. 12, 1814. "I engaged to go on a mission, if my people would consent; but they will not hear of it. The church would consent, but the parish will not. You will learn from the newspapers that we are in a state of alarm here, or I should say nothing of it. Ever since our return, the street has been filled with wagons, &c., carrying goods out of town, and the alarm continues and increases. We had hoped to have a quiet Sabbath yesterday; but, in the morning, the chairman of the committee 356 MEMOIR OF of public safety called and informed me, that the committee had issued a handbill, requiring all the male citizens to work, through the day, on the fortifications, and stating that the usual religious services of the day must be dispensed with. With this order our church absolutely refused to comply, and we had divine service both parts of the day, as usual, and a considerably large congregation. This morning, all is bustle and confusion through the town. We have'sent a few things to Gorham; and, in case of an attack, we can pack into the cbhire and follow. You have no reason to entertain the smallest fears for our personal safety. In ten minutes after an alarm is given, we can be safe out of town. The church seem to feel in some measure as I could wish. Strong confidence in God, mingled with a deep sense of ill-desert, and submission to his will, is displayed by them. They have a prayer meeting every evening; and, next Thursday, if circumstances permit, we are to have a fast. At our house, all is still and quiet. We hear little of the noise, and have slept undisturbed every night till the last. I cannot think we are in much danger. Not that great dependence is to be placed in our means of defence; but I cannot think God means to destroy this place. We needed something to rouse us, and to remind us that we were engaged in war, and to excite us to pray for the removal of God's judgments; and this effect the alarm has, I trust, produced. It tends powerfully to wean us from the world; so that, thus far, it has been a mercy." "Nov. 14, 1814. " We are going on as well as can be expected. L. is well; little L. better than for a year past; my own health slowly, but gradually, improving. Our souls, too, I hope, are not quite so far from prospering and being in health as they have been; the church are reviving, and there are many hopeful appearances in the parish. But the best of all is, that we seem to be waking up in this part of the country, as well as in others, to the state of public morals. Delegates from nineteen towns in this vicinity met in this town last week, and adopted a number of measures to secure the proper observance of the Sabbath. A similar meeting for the county of Lincoln is to be held this week at Wiscasset. These things, and others of a similar nature, of which I hear abroad, almost lead me to cry, EDWARD PAYSON. 357 with old Simeon-' Let thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation' We shall yet see peace upon our Israel; and I have very little doubt, that, after the war ceases, we shall have greater revivals through the land than we have ever yet seen. It was harder to do what has been done, both in the world and among us, than to do what remains. The wheel is now in motion, and will be kept so with comparative ease. It is a glorious day to live in! So much to be.done; so much to be prayed for; so much to be seen. I was wrong in saying, I wished to depart in peace. I wish to stay, and see, and do a little more. I would not now exchange a place in the church below, even for a place in heaven. The longer our time of labor is, the better. There will be time enough for rest. "Dr. died last week. I saw him repeatedly during his illness; but not a word of a religious nature did he utter; and, I am told, he said as little to others. He was a minister upwards of fifty years. What a meeting it must be, when a pastor meets all who have died under his ministry, during so many years; especially, if he has never faithfully warned them! "Our people feel the consequences of the war very much. I am astonished to see how well they continue to pay my salary; and still more, to see how liberally they give to every proper object. Their deep poverty serves to set off the riches of their liberality. If they were like many congregations, I should soon be turned out. Many, however, have moved away, on account of the war; and if it continues, the rest must follow. However, we serve a good Master; and while he has work for us to do, he will feed us. I rejoice to learn, that you find' the joy of the Lord your strength.' It is strength indeed. I hope my father finds as much reason to rejoice in the progress of reformation in New Hampshire, as we do here." " JUNE 2, 1815. "I shall not be able to visit Rindge this summer. Journeying does me so little good, and I have been absent so long that I shall not dare to think of it at present. Were it possible, I would come about the time of the ordination of the missionaries, at Newburyport, to which our church is invited; but I fear it will not be. 358 MEMI OIR OF " I am sorry for poor ~; but my sorrow is mitigated, if not removed, by reflecting, that if he is a Christian, all things are working for his good; and if he is not, an education will do him more harm than good. I have grown quite hard hearted, as it respects the trials of Christians, I scarcely pity them at all, while under the rod, though I am sorry we all need it so much. However, I sympathize with you, my dear mother, in your want of hearing. It is a grievous trial; and if, as. you intimate, frequent letters would in any degree mitigate it, I will strive to write oftener. I trust our revival has not ceased; though it will not, I fear, prove so extensive as I at first hoped." " SEPT. 7. 1815. " Do not feel anxious about me. I am, you know, in good hands-in better hands than yours; and, when you consider how good God has been to me, you can have no reason to fear that he will deal with me otherwise than well. "I have little to write respecting our situation in a religious view, that is encouraging; but things look promising in many other places at a distance. You have heard of the revivals at Litchfield and New Haven. An account of these revivals read in Rowley, has occasioned the commencement of a similar work there, which promises to become extensive. There is also considerable attention among the students in Academy; and a letter, which I have just received from a gentleman in Baltimore, informs me that there is a revival in an academy in that vicinity, and in two or three other places. It certainly appears more and more probable, that God is about to work wonders in most of our seminaries of learning; and, if so, who can calculate the blessed effects which will be the result? " The revolution in Dartmouth College makes a great noise here. Losing Mr. Brown will be a grievous blow to me. I think the trustees could hardly have made a better choice.' On perusing the following, it is difficult to repress a wish that the writer had been under the necessity of " fitting up a house" every year:"'PORTLAND, NOV. 1, 1815. " MY DEAR MOTHER: —I fear you will think me very negligent in delaying so long to answer your letter; but I have an excuse ready. We have been moving, and repairing our house, and I EDWARD PAYSON. 359 have been almost incessantly engaged, night and day. We have had half a score of workmen in the house, and I have been obliged to superintend and work with them; and this, in addition to parochial duties, has so hurried me, that I have scarcely had time to eat. You will be glad to hear that my cares and labors have had a very beneficial effect, with respect to my health, so that I have gained more in fourteen days than in as many months previous. I have also enjoyed a much higher degree of spiritual health than usual, and have had many special mercies, both of a temporal and religious nature; so that I have seldom passed six happier weeks than the last. Our house proves much more convenient than we expected, and we have seen much of the wisdom and goodness of God in bringing us into it. It is the same house in which I formerly boarded when preceptor —in which I spent some months in folly and sin, and in which I received the news of Charles's death, and began to turn my attention to religion. These circumstances give it an interest of a peculiar kind, and furnish matter for many humbling, many mournful, and not a few thankful and profitable reflections. O what a Master do I serve! I have known nothing, felt nothing, all my days, even in comparison with what I now see in him. Never was preaching such sweet work as it is now. Never did the world seem such a nothing. Never did heaven appear so near, so sweet, so overwhelmingly glorious.... God's promises appear so strong, so solid, so real, so substantial, - more so than the rocks and everlasting hills; and his perfections,-what shall I say of them? When I think of one, I wish to dwell upon it forever; but another, and another, equally glorious, claims a share of admiration; and, when I begin to praise, I wish never to cease, but have it the commencement of that song which will never end. Very often have I felt as if I could that moment throw off the body without staying to'first go and bid them farewell that are at home in my house.' Let who will be rich, or admired, or prosperous; it is enough for me that there is such a God as Jehovah, such a Saviour as Jesus, and that they are infinitely and unchangeably glorious and happy." The year 1816 was the most remarkably distinguished for the effusions of the Holy Spirit on his people, of any year of his ministry. with the exception of that in which his happy spirit 360 MEMOIR OF took its flight, when he preached so much from the bed of death. This fact the reader will regard as a striking commentary on the subjoined extracts from his diary: "DEC. 16. Since the last date, I have passed through a greater variety of scenes and circumstances than in almost any period of equal length in my whole life, and have experienced severer sufferings, conflicts, and disappointments. Some time in February, I began to hope for a revival; and, after much prayer for direction, and, as I thought, with confidence in God, I took some extraordinary, and perhaps imprudent,% measures to hasten it. But the event did not answer my expectations at all; and in consequence, I was thrown into a most violent commotion, and was tempted to think God unkind and unfaithful. For some weeks, T could not think of my disappointment with submission There were many aggravating circumstances attending it; which rendered it incomparably the severest disappointment, and, of course, the most trying temptation, I had ever met with. It injured my health to such a degree, that I was obliged to spend the summer in journeying, to recover my health. This, however, did not avail, and I returned worse than I went away, and plunged in the depths of discouragement. Was obliged, sorely against my will, to give up my evening lectures, and to preach old. sermons. After awhile, however, my health began to return, though very slowly. God was pleased to revisit me, and to raise me up out of the horrible pit and miry clay, in which I had so long lain; and my gratitude for this mercy far exceeded all I felt at my first conversion. Sin never appeared so odious, nor Christ so precious, before. Soon after this, my hopes of a revival began to return. About a month since, very favorable appearances were seen, and my endeavors to rouse the church seemed to be remarkably blessed. My whole soul was gradually wrought up to the highest pitch of eager expectation and desire; I had great assistance in observing a day of fasting and prayer; the annual thanksgiving was blessed in a very remarkable and surprising manner, both to myself and the church. From these and many other circumstances, I was led to expect, very confidently, that the next Sabbath, which was our communion, See Chapter XIV. E DWARD PAYSON. 361 would be a glorious day, and that Christ would then come to convert the church a second time, and prepare them for a great revival. I had great freedom, in prayer, both on Saturday night and Sabbath morning; and, after resigning, professedly, the whole matter to God, and telling him that, if he should disappoint us, it would be all right, I went to meeting. But what a disappointment awaited me! I was more straitened than for a year before; it was a very dull day, both to myself and the church; all my hopes seemed dashed to the ground at once, and I returned home in an agony not to be described. Instead of vanquishing Satan, I was completely foiled and led captive by him; all my hopes of a revival seemed blasted, and I expected nothing but a repetition of the same conflicts and sufferings which I had endured after my disappointment last spring, and which I dreaded a thousand times worse than death. Hence my mind was exceedingly imbittered. But, though the storm was sudden and violent, it was short. My insulted, abused Master pitied and prayed for me, that my faith might not fail; and therefore, after Satan had been permitted to sift me as wrheat, I was delivered out of his power; and. strange as it even now appears to me, repentance and pardon were given me, and I was taken, with greater kindness than ever, to the bosom of that Saviour whom I had so insulted. Nor was this all; the trial was beneficial to me. It showed me the selfishness of my prayers for a revival, and my self-deception in thinking I was willing to be disappointed, if God pleased. It convinced me that I was not yet prepared for such a blessing, and that much more wisdom and grace were necessary to enable me to conduct a revival properly, than I have ever imagined before. On the whole, though the past year has been one of peculiar trial and suffering, I have reason to hope it has not been unprofitable, and that I have not suffered so many things altogether in vain. I have seen more of myself and of Christ than I ever saw before; and can, at times, feel more of the frame described in Ezekiel xvi. 63, than I ever expected to feel a year since. The gospel way of salvation appears much more glorious and precious, and sin more hateful. I can see, supposing a revival is to come, that it was a mercy to have it so long delayed. My hopes, that it will yet come, are perhaps as strong as ever, but my mind is on the rack of suspense, and I can scarcely support the conflict VL,. I. 46 362 MEMOIR OF of mingled anxieties, desires and expectations. Meanwhile, appearances are every week more favorable, the heavens are covered with clouds, and some drops have already fallen. Such are the circumstances in which I commence the ninth year of my ministry; and surely never did my situation call more loudly for fasting and prayer than now. "In the preceding sketch of the past year, I have said little of my own wickedness, or of God's goodness; for, indeed, I know not what to say. The simple statements which I have made of facts, speak more loudly in favor of Christ, and against myself, than any thing else can do. I used to think that repentance and confession bore some small proportion to my sins; but now there seems to be no more proportion between them than between finite and infinite. I can see that I once trusted much to my repentance; but now my repentance seems one of my worst sins, on account of its exceeding imperfection. " For an hour or two, I have enjoyed as much assistance as I usually do on such occasions; but I see more and more how exceedingly little there is of spirituality in my best affections. Imagination, natural affections, and self-love, compose by much the largest part of my experiences. Indeed, I can scarcely discover any thing else. It is like a fire just kindled; much smoke, some blaze, but little heat. I have been praying, more than I ever did before, for more spiritual affection and clearer views; but as yet my gracious God does not answer my request. But he knows best, and with him I can leave it. "'Was favored, while reading Owen on the Hebrews, with new and unusually clear views of many things respecting our Saviour's sufferings, which filled me with wonder and delight. 0, how little have I known, how little do I still know, of the great mystery of godliness! In the evening, hoped I felt something of what the apostle calls travailing in birth for souls. I was in such a state of mind as I cannot well describe, but it seemed to be almost insupportable. "DEC. 17. Had a most sweet, refreshing season in prayer last night. The unsearchable riche~ seemed opened to me, to take as much as I pleased. Had great liberty in praying for a revival; and could scarcely give over the blessed work, though much exhausted. This-morning, was in the same frame. WVas especially affected and delighted with the proof of love which E 1) W A' I) A YS ON. 363 he required from Peter,'Feed my sleep.' Prayed tllat I might be enabled to feed tlhem tlhis day. Went to the house of God withl lloreof such a fiamne as I wished than usual. I have hitherto had no liberty in praying for a revival in public. However much I might feel at home, it was taken from me as soon as I entered the mleeting-louse. But to-day my fetters were taken olE. I could pray for nothing but a revival. " DEC. 1S. Felt unusually oppressed with a sense of the wisdom and grace necessary to conduct a revival; but was enabled to trust in God to supply mly wants. Spent the evening with Christian fiiends. Prayed for a blessing on the visit, and( found it a sweet season. After my return, had a most refreshing and delightful season in prayer. Had no longer the least doubt of a revival, and my joy was unspeakable. Continued sweetly meditating and praying, till I fell asleep. " DEc. 19. New joys, new praises. Had a most ravisling view of Christ this morning, as coming at a distance in tile chariot of his salvation. In an instant he was with me, and around me; and I could only cry, Welcome! welcome! a thousand times welcome to my disconsolate heart, and to thy widowed church! 0, joy unspeakable and full of glory! while seeing him not, I feel and believe his presence. Spent the evening with the church, after much prayer, both alone and with others, that Christ would meet and bless us. Went to meeting trembling, and my fears were realized. I was entirely deserted, had nothing to say, and was obliged to leave them abruptly. They sat stupid awhile, after I left them, and then separated. This was a sore trial. Impatience and self-will struggled' hard for leave to say somethingl agaiist Christ but I was enabled to flee to the throne of grace, and found relief. One thing is certain. I have no direct promise that there shali be a revival; but I have a thousand direct, positive assurances that Christ is faithful, and wise, and kind. This, therefore, faith will believe, whatever becomes of my hopes and wishes; and it is evidently absurd to profess to trust in God for what he has not expressly promised, while I do not believe his positive assurances. "'DEC. 24. Enjoyed great nearness to Christ in family prayer. Seemed to feel a perfect union with him, and to love with a most intense love, every thing that is dear to him. 364 MEMOI 0 OF Christians seemed inexpressibly dear to me, and I loved to pray for them as for myself. But, O, where have I been? and what have I been doing all my days? How terribly blind and ignorant of religion have I been! and now I know nothing, feel nothing as I ought. Saw that there is incomparably more to be known and felt in religion than I ever thought of before. What a pity, that I have lost so many of the best years of my life in contented ignorance; and what would I not give for the years I have lost. I can never be humbled sufficiently for my indolence. As it respects a revival I feel easy. My anxiety has subsided into a settled calm, arising from a full persuasion that Christ will come and save us. "DEC. 30. Was greatly assisted in praying for a revival, and felt almost a full assurance that it would be granted. Felt sweetly melted, and almost overpowered with a sense of God's sovereign and unmerited love. Could not forbear saying to him, that he ought not to save such a guilty creature; or at least, ought not to employ me, and bless my labors; but he seemed to reply, with great power and majesty, I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy.' Could not but submit, that it should be so. Never did the sovereignty of God appear so sweet as then. Spent part of the evening in religious conversation with my domestics. "JAN. 4, 1816. Preached the evening lecture without much sensible assistance. After meeting, one of the church informed me, that in the afternoon a man, (who had formerly been one of the first merchants in the town)) once a professor, but who has been for many years an apostate, and bitter enemy to religion, came to him apparently much distressed respecting his salvation; and that the same man was at lecture. This good news filled us with joy and triumph, so that all doubts of a revival seemed removed. 0, I wanted, even then, to begin my eternal song; and excess of happiness became almost painful. Could scarcely sleep for joy, though much fatigued. " JAN. 5. Had similar views and feelings this morning, but less vivid. Took a review of God's dealings with me, and of my own exercises respecting the revival. Saw infinite wisdom and goodness in every thing that God has done, and could not but admire and praise. As to my feelings, though they seemed little better than a mass of pride, and selfishness, and impa EDWAI D PAYSON. 365 tience, yet I could not but see that there was some real faith under all, which God had accepted. Afterwards, however, reflecting on the feelings of papists towards their saints, and pagans towards their idols, I was led to doubt whether I had exercised any real faith at all. Attended a fast. Endeavored to convince the church how polluted the conference room must be in the sight of God, in consequence of the sins which had been committed there. Then made a confession of them, and prayed that it might be cleansed. Then did the same with respect to our closets, and houses, and afterwards the house of God, and the communion table. Then read and expounded the new covenant, and showed what was meant by taking hold of it. Finished by imploring all the blessings of this covenant on the church, and praying for a revival. "JAN. 7. Sabbath. Had no freedom either in prayer or preaching, and the congregation appeared uncommonly stupid. Concluded that there was to be no revival under me. Was exceedingly distressed, but felt no disposition to murmur, or be imI:atient. Withdrew to my chamber, to weep and pray. It seemed clear, that I was the great obstacle to a revival. I have not' rendered again according to the benefit done unto me, but my heart has been lifted up; therefore is there wrath upon my people.' Threw myself in the dust at God's feet. Derived some comfort from often repeating those words,' I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious.' It seemed sweet, as well as reasonable, that God should be a sovereign, and do what he will with his own." "MARCH 1, 1816. Could I, my dear mother, tell you all the good news I have so long been waiting for, it would be some comfort; but I can say but little compared with what I hoped to be able to say before this time; nor can I yet determine how it will go with us. We have about eighty inquirers, and several, I hope, are converted; but this is nothing to what we expected. However, we would be thankful for a drop, if we cannot have a shower. It has been a trying season with me this winter. While pursuing the revival, it seemed as if I must die in the pursuit, and never overtake it." 36 i6 MEMOIR OF C' APRIL 1 1.816. --- " I am so worn down with constant cares and labors. that my affections seem to be all dried up,' and I am withered like grass.' However, I hope you have received, ere this, a few lines, as a proof that I have not quite forgotten, or ceased to love my mother. " Our revival still lingers: it, however, increases slowly. I have conversed with about forty who entertain hopes, and with about sixty more who are inquiring. Twenty-three have joined the church since the year commenced. The work is evidently not over; but whether it will prove general, is still doubtful. There is quite a revival at Bath, below zls. Nearly two hundred have been awakened. In Philadelphia, seventy one were added to a single church at one time, a few weeks since. In New York and Baltimore; also, there are revivals. You have probably heard, that there have been revivals among the Hottentots. Two hundred were added to the church in one year, and ten Hottentot preachers ordained. There is much more good news of a similar nature. Surely we live in a good day, and I believe you will yet see good days in Rindge. Their liberality in raising father's salary, is a token for good; and I rejoice in it more for that reason than for any other. Those who are most willing to pay for the gospel, are most likely to have it blessed to them. "We go on very happily in every respect. I have been favored with a long calm, or rather sunshine. Every thing is easy; I am careful for nothing; Christ is so precious and so near; my cup runneth'over. Every day I expect a storm, but it does not come. Doubtless I have many bitter, trying scenes to pass through yet; worse than any I have heretofore experienced. But I care not. He will carry me through. I wish to mention to you some passages, which have been peculiarly sweet of late. One is this:' He caused them to be pitied of all them by whom they were carried away captive.' Scarcely any passage of Scripture seems to me so expressive of God's goodness to his people as this. After they had provoked him, till he banished them from the good land, still he pitied them, and made their enemies pity them. It sounds like David's language-' Deal gently with the young man Absalom for my sake EDWARD PAYSON. 367 "Another is the account of our Saviour's ascension, in the last chapter of Luke:'And he lifted up his hands, and blessed them. And while he blessed them,' c. Observe'while he blessed,' &c. The last thing he was ever seen to do on earth, was to bless his disciples. He went up, scattering blessings; and he has done nothing but bless them ever since." " SEPT. 19, 1816. " I do not wonder at all, my dear mother, at your discovering from my letters, the jaded, languid state of my mental faculties. They have long since lost all the elasticity which they ever possessed, and my mind is'as dry as the remainder biscuit, after a voyage.' - " On the whole, the past summer has been the happiest which I have enjoyed since I was settled. Were it not for' the dreadfully depressing effects of ill health, I shouldbe almost too happy. It seems to me, that no domestic troubles, not even the loss of wife and children, could disturb me much, might I enjoy such consolations as t have been favored with most of the time since the date of my last letter. Soon after that, the revival, which I feared was at an end, began again, and things now look as promising as ever. My meeting-house overflows, and some of the church are obliged to stay at home, on account of the impossibility of obtaining seats. I have, in the main, been favored with great liberty for me, both in the pulpit and out; and it has very often seemed as if- could I only drop the body, I could continue, without a moment's pause, to praise and adore to all eternity. This goodness is perfectly astonishing and incomprehensible. I am in a maze, whenever I think of it. Every day, for years, I have been expecting some dreadful judgments, reckoning, as Hezekiah did, that as a lion God would break all my bones, and, from day even to night, make an end of me Now, and now, I have said to myself, it is coming. Now, God will cast me out of his vineyard. Now, he will lay me aside or withdraw his Spirit, and let me fall into some great sin. But, instead of the judgments which I expected and deserve, he sends nothing but mercies; such great mercies, too, that I absolutely stagger under them, and all my words are swallowed up. " But, great as my reasons are to love God for his favors, me 368 MEMOIR OF thinks he is infinitely more precious on account of his perfections. Never did he appear so inexpressibly glorious and lovely as he has for some weeks past. He is, indeed, all in all. 1 have nothing to fear, nothing to hope from creatures. They are all mere shadows and puppets. There is only one Being in the universe, and that Being is God; may I add, He is my God. I long to go and see him in heaven. I long still more to stay and serve him on earth. Rather, I rejoice to be just where he pleases, and to be what he pleases. Never did selfishness and pride appear so horrid. Never did I see myself to be such a monster; so totally dead to all wisdom and goodness. But I can point up, and say-There is my righteousness, my wisdom, my all. In the hands of Christ I lie passive and helpless, and am astonished to see how he can work in me. He does all; holds me up, carries me forward, works in me and by me; while I do nothing, and yet never worked faster in my life. To say all in a word' My soul followeth hard after thee; thy right hand upholdeth me.' "Our inquirers are about seventy. We are building a conference-house, to hold 500 people. Some of the church, who can ill afford it, give fifty dollars each towards it." "DECEMBER 9, 1816. "In a religious view, things remain very much as they have been. We have about fifty inquirers; but they do not seem, except in a few instanees, to be very deeply impressed, and their progress is slow. We have admitted seventy-two persons into the church during the present year. Our new conference-house has been finished some weeks; cost about twelve hundred dollars. At its dedication, and at a quarterly fast held in it the same week, we enjoyed the divine presence in a greater degree, I think, than we ever did before as a church. I would not have given a straw for the additional proof, which a visible appearance of Christ would have afforded of his presence. And he has been wonderfully gracious to me ever since. It is several months since I have been disturbed with any of those dreadful conflicts, which for so many years rendered life bitterer than wormwood and gall. "We have received intelligence of E's marriage. I can realize, more than I once could, what a severe trial it must be EDWA RD PAYSON. 369 to you and my father, to have both daughters gone-almost like burying them. If father were not a minister, and thus fixed where he is, I should send him and you such an invitation as Joseph sent to Jacob, to come and let us nurse and nourish you; since you are left so much alone." " DEC. 16, 1817. This being the anniversary of my ordination, determined to spend it in fasting and prayer. Had little courage to attempt it, on account of bodily infirmities, and repeated vain attempts; but God was gracious to me, and enabled me to go through with it. Had, for a long time, a melting, heart-broken frame at the feet of Christ, weeping aloud, and obtained, a full and sweet assurance of pardon. Never before enjoyed such a sense of his love, or felt so constrained to love him, and every thing that belonged to him, especially his Word, which I could not forbear kissing, and pressing to my bosom. Was perfectly willing to die, without leaving my chamber, if my work here were done and God saw best. "DEC. 18. Began to think, last night, that I have been sleeping all my days; and, this morning, felt sure of it. I have been idling and sleeping, while my flock have been dropping into hell. How astonishingly blind have I been, and how imperceptible my religious progress! Prayed for my people with more of a right spirit than perhaps ever before. After meeting, had, for a few moments, such a view of God as almost overwhelmed me. Could not have supported it long." " OCT. 27, 1818. ~ " In addition to these favors, we have some reason to hope that Zion is travailing in birth with souls. After a long season, the preached word begins again to be blessed; and several have, within a few days, been awakened. My health, too, which for several weeks was worse than ever, is now quite as good as usual; and God has been so gracious to me in spiritual things, that I thought he was preparing me for L's death. Indeed, it may be so still; but if so, his will be done. David's charge to his soul,'wait thou only upon God,' has of late seemed peculiarly precious. Let him take all; if he leaves us himself, we still have all and abound. I tell my dear parents of VOL. I. 47 370 MEMOIR OF these mercies, because I know they are in answer to your prayers; and because I trust they will cause you to abound in thanksgiving in my behalf. " Since I wrote the above, I have seen three more newly awakened; and other circumstances appear encouraging. Truly my cup runs over with blessings. I can still scarcely help thinking, that God is preparing me for some severe trial; but if he will grant me his presence, as he does now, no trial can seem severe. However, I desire to rejoice with trembling. I seem to know a little what is meant by fearing the Lord and his goodness. There seems to be something awful and venerable even in the goodness of God, when displayed towards creatures so desperately wicked, so inexpressibly vile as we are. 0, could I now drop the body, I could stand and cry to all eternity, without being weary-God is holy, God is just, God is good; God is wise, and faithful, and true. Either of his perfections alone is sufficient to furnish matter for an eternal, unwearied song. How bright, how dazzling, is the pure, unsullied whiteness of his character! and how black, how loathsome, do we appear in contrast with it! Could I sing upon paper, I should'break forth into ringing;' for, day and night I can do nothing but sing. Let the saints be joyful in glory; let them sing aloud upon their beds; for the Lord shall reign king for ever, and thy God, 0 Zion. throughout all generations.'' APRIL 13, 1820. " I have lately been very much delighted with some account of the last years of Mr. Newton. Nothing that I have yet met with seems to come so near complete ripeness of Christian character, as the views and feelings which he expresses in his daily conversation. He seems to have seen God continually in every thing, to have been wholly swallowed up in him, and to have regarded him as all in all. The whole creation seemed, as it were, to be annihilated in his view, and God to have taken its place. If a miracle had been wrought before me, to prove the reality of religion, it could scarcely have produced conviction like that which resulted from seeing religion thus gloriously exemplified. After his faculties seemed to be almost extinct, so that he could not remember, in the afternoon, having preached EDWARD PAYSON. 371 in the morning, faith and love and hope were as strong as ever. Indeed, I cannot conceive of nearer approaches to perfection in this world. than he seems to have made during the last years of his life. He says that God works in his people to will, first; and afterwards, to do; and thinks that Christians will to do good many years before they actually do much. This is encouraging. I think God works in me to will; but in doing, my progress is small indeed." " MAY 17, 1821. " MY DEAR MOTHER:-Ill news flies so fast, and becomes so much exaggerated in its progress, that I should not wonder if you were to hear a rumor that I am dying, if not dead. The truth is, I have been sick-perhaps dangerously so. About three months since, I began to be troubled with a slight cough. It gradually grew worse, and was attended with loss of appetite, pain in the chest, difficulty of breathing, daily accession of fever, and spitting of blood. It is nearly a month since I have been obliged to give up preaching, and have recourse to emnetics, blistering, bleeding, &c. By the blessing of God attending these means, I am now almost well again, and hope to be able soon to resume my labors. I am, however, still weak, and cannot write much; but I was fearful you would hear that I am worse than I really am, and therefore thought it best to write a few lines." " JUNE S. This is a most melancholy day to me. It is the Sabbath on which we should have had the communion; but we have no one to preach for us. My flock are scattered, and I can only look on and groan. My health is in such a state, that I can feel nothing but misery. However, this blow seemed to touch me. I saw that it was just, though I can scarcely be said to have felt it. To-morrow I expect to sail for Charleston, with a view to the recovery of my health; but I go with a heavy heart. There appears little prospect of its proving beneficial." "JULY 16. I am just returned from Charleston. My health is much improved. I had a very pleasant passage out; but a most tedious and unpleasant return. The captain who carried me out was as kind as possible. I hope he has his reward. He offer 372 MEMOIR OF ed to carry me to Europe, and bring me back, without a farthing's expense. It would have been gratifying to see Old England; but I could not spare the time." "JULY 16. 0, how much better is God to me than my fears, and even than my hopes! how ready to answer prayer This afternoon he has banished my fears and sorrows, strengthened my faith, revived my hopes, and encouraged me to go on. Had a precious season in visiting and praying with some of my people, and still more so in the evening. 0, how wise and good is God! Now I can see it was best that I should not be assisted in preaching yesterday; for it drove me, in self-despair, to the throne of grace. Whereas, had I been assisted, I might have remained at a distance. And I desire to record it to the honor of God, and my own shame, that I never went to him in distress, without finding almost immediate relief. " JULY 25. This day I am thirty-eight years old. I had intended to make it a day of family thanksgiving, but my weakness prevented. Indeed, ill health is an obstacle continually in my way, almost wholly obstructing my usefulness and growth in grace. Half my time, I am so languid in body and mind, that I can do nothing; and tle other half, I an very far from being well. But God has hitherto graciously supported me, so that, though cast down, I am not yet destroyed. As to resolving that I will do better in future, I have no courage to do it. The loss of so many years withers my strength and courage, and dries up my spirits." "AUG. 6. 1821. Since I wrote last there has been quite a change in me. Then, my health was better, but my mind sick. Now, my mind is comparatively at ease, but my health has sunk down nearly to its old standard. However, this state is vastly more comfortable than the former, and I desire to be satisfied. I think, my dear mother, you may dismiss all anxiety respecting me. I am in wise and good hands, and do not suffer more than what is absolutely necessary." "SEPT. 1. While lying awake last night, enjoyed most dehghtful views of God as a Father. Felt that my happiness is as dear to him as to myself; that he would not willingly hurt EDWARD PAYSON. 373 one hair of my head, nor let me suffer a moment's unnecessary pain. Felt that he was literally as willing to give as I could be to ask. Seemed, indeed, to have nothing to ask for." In a letter, dated Sept. 10th, after alluding to "sore trials," and especially to one, of several events which had a most melancholy and disastrous aspect on the religious prospects of the church, he says, "This, coming just when we were expecting a revival, was peculiarly grievous; but I still hope, after God has crushed us into the dust, he will exalt us. He has been most wonderfully gracious to me during these trials. Never before have I enjoyed such consolations. It seems as evident as noonday, that the same love which prompted the Saviour to bear the curse for us, would have led him to bear all our afflictions for us, were it not absolutely necessary that we should suffer in our own persons. I see, I feel, that he would as soon wound the apple of his eye, as give one of his people a moment's needless pain. I care not what trials may come, for I know that they will be for my good, and that he will support me." At the commencement at Bowdoin College, this month, he received the degree of Doctor in Divinity; but writes to his mother — I beg you not to address your letters to me by that title, for I shall never make use of it." SEPT. 19. Last night, while lying awake, had more distinct apprehensions of God's greatness than at any previous time. Realized little of any thing else except simple greatness; and this, although I seemed to have no views, compared with what might be, almost crushed me to death. I could not move a limb, nor scarcely breathe. Saw how easily a little view of God might destroy us. Could realize more than ever, that a clear view of God must be hell to the wicked; for had any sense of his anger accompanied this view of his greatness, I could not have supported it.'"OCT. 11. Still my cup runs over with blessings. God graciously continues to grant me his presence when I lie down, and when I rise up; though he every day sees enough in me to justify him in leaving me forever.":OCT. 15. -—' God continues to be wonderfllly gracious to me inL 374 MEMOIR OF spiritual things. I know not what it means. I never was so happy for so long a time before. I suspect some grievous trial is approaching. Let it come, if God pleases. While he is with me, I feel entirely independent of all circumstances, creatures, and events. Yet creature comforts are pleasant, when we can enjoy God in them. "I fear will do the church little good. At first it seemed to affect them in a proper manner, but the impression is fast wearing away. Whether God will scourge them still more severely, or whether he will come and melt them into repentance by unexpected displays of mercy, I do not know. If I could see them made to feel what a God Jehovah is, and what a Saviour Christ is, and what a place heaven is! But I do not. Still, when I look at God in Christ, and see how good, how gracious, how condescending, how powerful he is, I am compelled, in spite of myself, to hope, and almost to feel sure, that I shall, sooner or later, see a revival of religion here. It may be, however, that this bright day is designed only to prepare me for as dark a night. But I desire to do present duty, to enjoy with humble gratitude, present happiness, and let to-morrow take thought for itself. " c Nov. 25. - "A young man, member of our church, is just settled, and a revival has commenced. About fifty are awakened, and the work is increasing. He makes the fourth member of our church, who has been settled since I came here. " [Dr. Payson superintended the preparation of several young men for the ministry.] "FEB. 3, 1822. -- "If my letter takes its complexion from my feelings, it will appear gloomy indeed. Since I wrote last, it has been a season of trial with me. E. has a terrible abscess, which we feared would prove too much for her slender constitution. We were almost worn out with watching; and, just as she began to amend, I was seized with a violent ague in my face, which gave me incessant anguish for six days and nights together, and deprived me almost entirely of sleep. Three nights, I did not once close my eyes. When almost distracted with pain and loss of sleep, Satan was let loose upon me, to buffet me, and, I verily thought, would have driven me to desperation and madness. EDWARID PAYSON. 375 Nor is my situation now much better. The fact is, my nervous system, at all times weak, has been so shattered by pain, and watching, and strong opiates, which gave no relief, that I am sunk in gloom and despondency, and can only write bitter things against myself. Surely no one suffers so much unprofitable misery as I do. I call it unprofitable, because it is of such a nature that I do not see how it possibly can produce any good effect. It only weakens, dispirits, and discourages me. " We have had a few instances of conviction, and at least one of conversion, since I wrote last; and the church, I hope, is, gaining ground. You will be glad to hear that eight or ten are awakened in Gorham." "FEB. 5. " I can now write in a less dismal strain. I am not happy, but I am less wretched. I feel, that while such a creature as I am is out of hell, I have great reason for thankfulness. But my flesh trembles, and my blood almost runs cold, when I look back upon what I have suffered. Certainly, a very large proportion of my path lies through the valley of the shadow of death. Bishop Hall says-'None out of hell have suffered so much as some of God's children;' and I believe it. I should not, however, much regard my sufferings, if they were sanctified." "FEB. 19. "You will be glad, my dear mother, to hear that the man who had the legion is sitting at the feet of Jesus, in his right mind. I had obtained some relief, when I wrote you last, but it proved of short continuance; the clouds returned after the rain, and I was again in the horrible pit and miry clay, and there remained till the next Sabbath. But now, I trust, the devil is cast out, though, as he departed from our Saviour only for a season, I know not how soon he may return. You know Mr. Newton thinks, that, comparatively speaking, he fights with neither small nor great, except with ministers. I know not how this may be; but if he torments others as he does me, I am sure I pity them. I am now so worn out with suffering and conflict, that I seem incapable of enjoyment; but T feel quiet and peaceful, and that is a great mercy.' The symptoms of a revival increase among us. Perhaps a dozen have been awakened and three have obtained hope, since 376 M E M I R OF I wrote last. I was sent for to-day, to see a man ninety-twc years old, who, after a long life of sin, is awakened in his old age. His situation, on the whole, seems encouraging, though he is nearly blind and deaf." FEB. 26. "The revival has been advancing, and there now seems to le every reason to hope, that God has begun a great work among us. I would not be too sanguine, but things look more favorable than they have for seven or eight years. Every day, I have two, and three, and four inquirers to see me, and their convictions are very deep and pungent. Three have just obtained hope. " I rejoice the more in this work, because it enables me to stop the mouth of my old adversary, and to prove to his face that he is a liar. I could not doubt that I had been enabled to pray for a revival these many years. Nor could I persuade myself, that Christ had not promised it to me. The essence of a, promise consists in voluntarily exciting expectation of some benefit. In this sense, a revival had often been promised to me. And when.it was not granted; when, one time after another, promising appearances died away; and especially when I was left to such exercises as rendered it impossible that I should ever be favored with a revival,-Satan had a fine opportunity to work upon my unbelief, and to ask, Where is your God'! what do you get by praying to him' and where is the revival which he has been so long encouraging you to expect, and to pray for? Now, I can answer these questions triumphantly, and put the lying tongue to silence. But the work is all God's; and I stand and look on to see him work; and this is favor enough, and infinitely more than I deserve. "You spoke in your last of poor. Rich you would call him now, if you could see him. He has made more progress in religion since, than he would in twenty years of ordinary advancement. I feel like a child when talking with him. Truly God's ways are not like ours. Meanwhile poor brother Rand, who is not half so undeserving of a revival as I am, is laid aside, just as soon as favorable symptoms begin to appear. His physicians speak very discouragingly." "' MARCH 7. Preached in the evening to the largest assembly EDWARD PA Y SO N. 377 that I had ever addressed at a. Thursday lecture. Came home encouraged, and rejoicing in God. The work is his —I am nothing, and love to be nothing. Dare not promise to serve God more faithfifllv. However extensive a revival. he may send, I shall again be stupid and ungrateful, unless he prevenlt. M: ARCH 17.' The revival goes on. Fifteen, we hope, are converted; and four times that number under deep impressions. Bltt in the midst of it I am laid aside. My lungs have been failing for several weeks, and I can preach no longer. After imy last Thursday lecture, I had a strange turn. Every body thought I was dying. It was occasioned by an inability in the heart, to fiee itself from the blood which poured in upon it. However, the doctor came, and took a large quantity of blood, which relieved me. But I am just as I was last spring, and, unless God interposes to help me, shall be unable to preach for weeks. You may well suppose that this is a trying dispensation; but so far I am kept quiet under it. I feel that it is not only just, but wise and kind. Poor brother Rand is in the same situation. The revival among his people increases, but he can do nothing. I wish P. was here; we both need him." "MAY 20, 1823. ~ COesar, speaking of one of his many battles which was severely contested, observed that, on former occasions, he had fought for victory, but then he fought for life. Even so it is with me. Once I fought for victory, and no ordinary victory would satisfy me; but my strength, and courage, and ambition, are now so crushed, that I fight merely for life; and I am scarcely able to secure even that. Still I hope for victory ultimately. I have just finished a sermon on Hezekiah's petition, 0 Lord, I am oppressed; undertake for me.' It has given me some comfort; it ought to give me more. Indeed, if we properly considered who Christ is, and what he has undertaken to do for us, we should never need consolation, but might, like St. Paul, though sorrowful, be always rejoicing; and say with him'Blessed be God, who hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places in Christ Jesus.'; I have prepared VOL. I. 48 378 MEMOIR OF another sermon from a succeeding passage in the same chapter,' Thou hast, in love to my soul, delivered it from the pit of corruption.' The words' delivered it' are not in the original; and, as father Henry observes, the passage may be read,' Thou hast loved my soul from the pit of corruption; thou hast loved my soul when it was in the pit of corruption, and thou hast loved it out of the pit of corruption; not merely taken it out, and redeemed it out, but loved it out.' "MAY 25. " My sermon on Christ's undertaking for us does me more and more good. I wish I could impart to you some of the comfort which it gives me. I wish to get away from frames and feelings, and live continually on the precious truth,'Christ has undertaken for me.' He is able, he is faithful, he will keep what he has undertaken to keep, he will do all he has undertaken to do. Another passage has been very sweet to me this morning, and I think I shall preach upon it next Sabbath' He hath made us accepted in the Beloved.' To be accepted of God, to be accepted in his beloved Son-what an honor! what a privilege! Well may it be said, to every one who enjoys it,' Go thy way, eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a merry heart; for God now accepteth thy works.' " Our church began, last winter, to employ a domestic missionary. They sent him to a town which has long been without a minister, and where, just before, a vain attempt had been made to raise one hundred dollars to pay for preaching. His labors produced such effect, that they have now raised a permanent fund, which will support a minister for ever. They have also given out missionary a unanimous call to settle with them. We shall make a similar experiment in another town, as soon as we can find a suitable missionary. How much is money worth at such a time as this!" Dr. Payson describes a species of trial, to which he was twice subjected, that will, probably, at the first glance, surprise those who were acquainted with his strong confidence in revelation, and his rich experience. in the consolations of religion. It shows most vividly the awful malice of the "accuser of the brethren," whose power to distress Christians, as well as his EDWARD PAYSON. 379 agency among " the children of disobedience," is greatly underrated at the present day; and even his existence is extensively doubted. Against the servant of God, who was making such inroads upon his kingdom, he seems to have directed all his " fiery darts." They gave temporary pain, but inflicted no mortal wound. The adversary was foiled. " DEC. 5, 1823. - "I have been sick, and laid by from preaching on thanksgiving day and two Sabbaths, but am now able to resume my labors. But O the temptations which have harassed me for the last three months! I have met with nothing like them in books. I dare not mention them to any mortal, lest they should trouble him as they have troubled me; but should I become an apostate, and write against religion, it seems to me that I could bring forward objections which would shake the faith of all the Christians in the world. What I marvel at is, that the arch deceiver has never been permitted to suggest them to some of his scribes, and have them published. They would, or I am much mistaken, make fearful work with Christians for a time, though God, would doubtless, enable them to overcome in the end. It seems to me, that my state has been far worse than that of Mansoul was when Diabolus and his legions broke into the town. They could not get into the castle, the heart; but my castle was full of them. But do not be troubled for imle; I am now better. Let me, then, try to comfort my mother." The other passage, depicting a similar conflict, was written about a year and a half later than the above mentioned: " It seems to me, that those who die young, like Brainerd and Martyn, know almost nothing of the difficulty of persevering in the Christian race. My difficulties increase every year. There is one trial which you cannot know experimentally. It is that of being obliged to preach to others, when one doubts of every thing, and can scarcely believe that there is a God. All the atheistical, deistical, and heretical objections, which I meet with in books, are childish babblings, compared with those which Satan suggests, and which he urges upon the mind with a force which seems irresistible. Yet I am often obliged to 380 MEliMOIR OF write sermons, and to preach, when these objections beat upon me like a whirlwind, and almost distract me. When he aslks, as he does continually ask, What have you gained by all your prayers? I know not what to reply. However, pray I must, and God assisting me, pray I will. The way is indeed difficult, but I can devise no other which is not more so. There is no one to whom I can go, if I forsake Christ.' As to the influence of these last quoted passages on the reader's mind, they are adapted, not to raise doubts respecting the genuineness and authenticity of revelation, but to strengthen his confidence in it, as the sure word of God, which endureth forever. The obvious and legitimate inference from them is, that the Bible can sustain, uninjured, attacks and objections, as much more formidable than any which have been directed against it by the mightiest infidels, as their objections are superior to the merest " childish babblings." If such tremendous volleys, from the enemy's battery, could not rend away the foundations of Dr. Payson's faith, however they might distress him for a tilme that faith surely rested on a basis as firm as the everlasting hills, which all the powers of earth and hell will for ever assail in vain. An opposite conclusion would be as illogical and preposterous as it is false in itself. No reasonable man can adduce Dr. Payson's temptations to discredit religion; for they are vanquished temptations. Be it remembered, that he overcame them all. However weighty or numerous the objections to revealed religion, the evidences vastly preponderate. We have ascribed these " doubts and temptations " to Satan, without undertaking to define the manner or degree of his agency on the human mind, or to distinguish his suggestions from man's voluntary acts. If we have indicated their true source, it should not surprise us that these doubts respect what is fundas mental in religion. Dr. Payson's language, on another occasion, is applicable to this case: " Satan will not disturb a false peace, because it is a peace of which he is the author." For the same reason, he would not disturb a man's speculative belief in a religion fundamentally erroneous; for this would be'dividing against himself,' and undermining his own kingdom. It seems, from numerous facts, which might be adduced, to have ueen in the counsels of God, that, among those whom EDWARD PAYSON. 381 he designed to be distinguished instruments in defending and promoting the pure religion of the Bible, no inconsiderable number should be subjected to the severest trials, in regard to its claims to human confidence. That laborious and successful servant of God, Richard Baxter, underwent this test. John Bunyan had long and distressing trials of this kind: " Whole floods of blasphemies," he tells us, " both against God, Christ, and the Scriptures, were poured in upon his spirit, to his great confusion and astonishment. These blasphemous thoughts stirred up questions in him against the very being of God, and of his only beloved Son; as whether there were, in truth, a God or Christ, and whether the Holy Scriptures were not rather a fable and cunning story, than the holy and pure word of God." Even his pilgrim, whose experience was intended to represent that of ordinary Christians, and to whose fidelity, in its grand outlines and general character, every evangelical Christian can testify, did not reach the celestial city without encountering atheistical doubts on his way thither. References of this kind might be multiplied; but what do they prove? Not that the Scriptures are false, and religion a delusion, but that they can survive, and shine the brighter, and stand the firmer, notwithstanding the most malignant and desperate assaults of their most powerful foes. By these trials, considered as a dispensation of God, many valuable ends are answered. The champion of the cross, who is destined to make wide encroachments on the kingdom of Satan, must not be Ad ignorant of his devices." He must see and know the enemies to be resisted, in order to wield his spiritual weapons with skill and effect. When Luther took the " cowl and tonsure," he little knew for what purpose; and human foresight would never have predicted the consequences which grew out of his seclusion. But it was in a monastery that he acquired that knowledge and experience, which fitted him for the peculiar part which he was subsequently to act, in demolishing monastic institutions, and in kindling and spreading the light of the glorious reformation. His own testimony recognises, what every Christain will readily admit, that the design of God, in permitting him to become a monk, was very different from that of the adversary in tempting him to be one: -- Of the propriety of my conduct at that time, my 382 M EMOI I OF opinion has certainly undergone a change; but God, by his infinite wisdom and mercy, has been pleased to produce great good out of evil. Satan seems to have anticipated in me, from my infancy, some of those qualities which have since appeared; and, to prevent the progress of the cause in which I have been instrumental, he affected my mind to such a degree as to make me often wonder whether I was the only creature whom he tormented. Now, however, I perceive that God directed that I should acquire, by personal experience, a knowledge of the constitution of universities and monasteries, that my opponents might have no handle to boast that I pretended to condemn things of which I was ignorant. It was ordained, therefore, that I should pass part of my life in a monastery." But, while it is a grand object with that " adversary, who goeth about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour," to weaken, and, if possible, to destroy, the faith of God's people in the fundamental articles of religion, and to shake their hope of a personal interest in its blessings, there is something in the man himself which makes him anxious on these points, and predisposes him to tremble, lest they should not abide the test. And no wonder; for they concern his eternal well-being. Where he regards his all as depending, it is natural that he should feel his ground, and look well to his foundation. If he fail here, he suffers a total failure. Hence we often see persons more confident respecting the circumstantials of religion, than they are concerning its essentials. Anecdotes exhibiting this quality will occur to every one on reflection. The doubts which, during his early investigation of theological subjects, Dr. Payson expressed respecting some points of the Calvinistic system, or the doctrines which are usually thus designated, cannot, without manifest perversion, be used to the prejudice of evangelical truth; for to them, also, the reasoning above most forcibly applies. In the resolution of these doubts, in such a mind as his, there is a testimony to the truth of the doctrines of grace too valuable to be lost. Every shock which they receive leaves them more firmly established. By the same means, they acquired a hold on his own soul, which his powerful and exasperated foe could not disengages though the effort sunk him " in heaviness for a season, through the manifold EDWARD PAYSON. 383 temptations" which accompanied it. Of the doctrines of grace, no man was ever more " fully persuaded in his own mind" than Dr. Payson, and the influence of this persuasion was most powerful in wresting from " the god of this world" some of his most valued subjects. It was a means of converting, from a lax theology and consequent indifference to eternal concerns, to evangelical faith and obedience, some who were distinguished for their standing and their wealth. The enemy of all righteousness saw no way to shake his firmness in these doctrines, except by an attempt to discredit that revelation of God, in which they are found. Hence, probably, the peculiar trials which have occasioned these remarks. The reader, however, is not to infer, that the doubts and temptations above recorded are any necessary part of religion; or, indeed, that they are among the healthful operations of piety. This is far from being the case. They have their occasion, partly, at least, in bodily and even spiritual disease; under the influence of which the subjects of them are peculiarly liable to the vexations and blasphemouls assaults of Satan. And doubtless they should be viewed as chastisements, as well as grievous calamities; and if a man could know all that was in his heart, he might know to what sin or sinful tendency the punishment was suited. Bunyan, after having been delivered from these horrid exercises, which he endured for a long time, attributed them chiefly to two causes: " That, after being fieed from one temptation, he did not still pray to God to keep him from the temptation that was to come;" and " That he had tempted God, not by any outward act, but by secretly saying in his heart, Lord, if now thou wilt remove this sad afliction,. then shall I know that thou canst discern the most secret thoughts of the heart." The affliction was suddenly removed; but, for his presumption, a sting was left in his conscience more intolerable than any bodily anguish. So far as these trials were visited upon Dr. Payson as a chastisement, it must have been for sins of the heart; for outwardly he was remarkably circumspect. The external act which cost him more anguish than any other act in his life, and which is dwelt upon more circumstantially than any other in his journal, was one, in itself of the most trifling and indifferent character, too insignificant to be specified; and yet was so associated in his mind with other 384 MEMOI I OF circumstances, as to distress him beyond measure, and excite his fears that he was completely given over into the hands of the enemy. Still the reasonings which he applies to the case, even at the time, are strikingly apposite, scriptural, and rational, and ought to have brought him complete relief. That they did not, shows rather the strength of his malady; than the degree of his guilt. Let it then be fixed in the mind, that these horrible exercises are not to be coveted as a necessary part of Christian experience. Far otherwise; it should be our daily prayer to be kept from such temptations. As a defence against them, we should trust in God at all times, and pour out our hearts before him. We should strive to banish such suggestions firom the mind, when they enter it, and to hold up the shield of faith as a defence against these fiery darts of the devil, when we see themn approaching. "Tell me," says Baxter, "what you would do, if you heard a scold in the street reviling you, or heard an atheist there talk against God; wvould you stand still to hear them, or rather go from them, and disdain to hear them, or debate the case with such as they? Do you, in your case, when Satan casts in ugly, or despairing, or murmuring thoughts, go away from them to some other thoughts or business. To be tempted, is common to the best. Yet be not too much troubled at the temptation; for trouble of mind doth keep the evil matter in your memory, and so increase it, as the pain of a sore draws the blood and spirits to the place. And this is the design of Satan, to give you troubling thoughts, and then to cause more, by being troubled at those; and so, for one thought and trouble, to cause another, and that another, and so on.' That physical constitution and temperament which qualify men to exert an uncommon influence over their fellow men, to excite their sympathies, to touch the springs of action, and call their feelings into vigorous exercise; to rouse, impel and guide a whole community, and to leave an example which shall act with impressive energy upon posterity, seem also to have been connected, in many eminent instances, with a predisposition to melancholy and depression. Luther is a distinguished example of these apparently opposite qualities. " He, who was so bold in asserting the cause of Christianity, and so fearless of pers m3 ED WARD PAYSON. 385 al danger in its promotion, was not unfrequently sunk in despondency, and was doubtful even whether he was a real Christian.' Thus God hath set one thing over against the other, that all may feel their dependence, and that no flesh might glory in his presence. When Christ said to Peter, " Satan hath desired to have thee that he may sift thee as wheat," he immediately after indicated his own purpose, in permitting that disciple to fall, by the injunction, " When thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren." It is perfectly obvious, that, after his fall and recovery, he was, in some respects, better qualified to edify the church of God than either of his fellow disciples, or than he could have been himself without the experience of that guilty, shameful, melting, heart-breaking process of backsliding and recovery. He exercised a train of emotions, to which he must otherwise have been a stranger, and which had a most important influence on his own character and labors, as a minister of Christ, as well as on his success. Bunyan enumerates several advantages as accruing from his torturing, fiightful temptations; such as a wonderful sense of the blessing and glory of God, and of his beloved Son. The glory of God's holiness did break him to pieces, and the compassion of Christ did break him as on the wheel. The Scriptures also were wonderful things to him; he saw more into the nature of the promises than ever before; for while he lay trembling under the mighty hand of God, continually rent and torn by the thundering of his justice, it made him, with a careful heart and watchful eye, turn over every leaf, and, with much diligence, mixed with much trembling, to consider every sentence together with its natural force and latitude. It cured him of putting off the word of promise when it came into his mind. He did not look principally for comfort, though it would have been inexpressibly welcome, but a word to lean a weary soul upon, that it may not sink forever. He saw those heights and depths in grace, and love, and mercy, which he never saw before; and that, where guilt is most terrible and fierce, there the mercy of God in Christ, when showed to the soul, appears most high and mighty? Without these deep and painful experiences, could he ever have been so eminently successful in guiding pilgrims through the snares of their difficult road, or have set so many way-marks to keep them from " the VOL. I. 49 386 MEMOIR OF enchanted ground," from " doubting castle," and' giant Despair?" By similar discipline was Dr. Payson prepared to bring relief to the afflicted people of God, as has been already seen. Costly as was his experimental knowledge, he was a thousand times repaid for it, by being made the minister of peace to the worried and affrighted sheep of Christ's fold. Shall we therefore do evil that good may come? God forbid. If we are exempted from these distresses while we are enabled to give due attention to the concerns of our souls, our thanks to God should abound. We now return from this digression. "JAN. 1, 1824. Rose early, and tried to pray; but a weak, languid frame crushed me down. I have, however, reason to bless God, that he allows such a wretch as I am to serve him at all. Groaned and struggled with my weakness before God. Read a number of passages in my diary, especially what is recorded under date of Dec. 16, 1815. Am glad I kept ajournal. I had otherwise forgotten much of what I have done against God, and of what he has done for me. Was confounded at what I read. My words are swallowed up. My life, my ministry, has been madness, madness! What shall I do? Where shall I hide? To sin, after I had sinned so much, and.after I had been forgiven! But I cannot write! I cannot think! And if my sins appear so black in my book, how do they appear in God's! " JAN. 29. Have had much to be thankful for, and much to be ashamed of, for some days past. God has been more than ordinarily gracious to me, granting me liberty of access to him in prayer, and permitting me to be, in some degree, useful. I have received many tokens of warm affection from his people, and been assisted in my work..... Have learned a lesson which I ought to have learned before. I am religiously romantic. I am always expecting something out of the common course, and planning what God is going to do. "MAY 15. Rode to G. to give them a day's preaching, as they are destitute. Took up a poor cripple by the way, and preached Christ to him. Felt some pity and love for him, while talking. A curious combination of circumstances threw him in my way. Could not but think how we both should admire the EDWARD PAYSON. 387 readings of Providence, if he should be converted in consequence of what was said to him. "JULY 20. Perplexed what to do. My people wish me to go to Europe. Tried to commit the case to God. " QCT. 17. Slept none last night, and my sufferings were great. My right arm seems about to perish. Could say, God's will be done. "Nov. 7. What I have long feared has come upon me. My voice and my faculties are half gone already, and what remains is rapidly departing. "Nov. 27. Was favored with a most precious season in prayer. Had such views of God and Christ! Lay and mourned at his feet, till I was exhausted, and longed unutterably fp be more holy, and to have others holy. 0, what reason have I to bless God for this! "JAN. 5, 1825. At the concert on Monday, recommended to the church to imitate the Lord's prayer, and always begin their supplications with praying that God's name may be glorified. Have derived much benefit from pursuing this practice. Made eleven visits, and felt thankful for having strength to do it. "JAN. 31. Felt very happy and dead to the world, all day. Rejoiced in God, and cared not what he did with me. "FEB. 9. Had a delightful season in prayer. It seemed as if it was only to ask and receive. Had nothing to ask for myself, except that I might be swallowedup in the will of God. "FEB. 15, 16. Much engaged in visiting. Went to the utmost extent of my strength. Felt insatiable desires for more holiness." " BOSTON, MARCH 21, 1825. "MY DEAR MOTHER:-I value your letters much, and your prayers still more; and sometimes think that your life is preserved, principally, to pray for your children. It will be found, I doubt not, in the coming world, that ministers had much less share in the success which attends their labors, than is now supposed. It will be found, that, if they drew the bow, the prayers of Christians pointed and guided the arrow. I preached last evening to an immense concourse of people. After the pews were filled, seats were brought in, and placed in ail the aisles. So far as I know, however, very little good has been done by 388 MEMOIR OF my labors here. But I desire to leave it all with God. I am astonished and ashamed by the kindness with which his people here treat me. q x x "You express a wish that my feelings were more equable, I wish they were. But I am so completely wretched when God withdraws from me, that the removal of that wretchedness by his return, renders me almost too happy. This thought has lately been of some service to me. Every Christian ought to love God in proportion to what has been forgiven him. But every Christian knows more evil of himself than he can know of any other human being. He ought therefore to feel as if more had been forgiven him, and as if he were under greater obl4ations to love God than any other human being; as if it were worse for him to sin against God than it would be for any other." " PORTLAND, JULY 27. -:'I had attempted to observe my birth-day as a day of prayer, but apparently to no purpose. I was so unwell that I could do nothing. However, the next day, the blessings vwlich I wished to ask for, but could not, were bestowed. I need not tell you how sweet, how soothing, how refreshing, Christ's returning presence is, after long absence. Still I am borne down in such a manner by ill health, that I can but half rejoice. The state of religion among us helps, also, to crush me. There never has been so entire a suspension of divine influences, since my settlement, as at present. Those of the church who are most spiritual, tell me that they never found it so difficult to perform religious duties, as they do now. In fine, the church seems to be on Bunyan's enchanted ground, and many of them are sleeping in some of the arbors which he mentions. Whether they will wake before death, seems doubtful. C SEPT. 29. - "I preached last Sabbath on being guilty of the blood of souls; and endeavored to point out some of the ways in which we may incur this guilt. I have incurred but too much of it; and it lies upon me with a weight which I know not how to bear, but which I cannot throw off. True, blood has been shed for us, which has efficacy to take away the guilt of blood. But EDWARD PAYS ON. 389 though this consideration may keep us from despair, it cannot shield us, or, at least, cannot shield one whose guilt is like mine, from the sufferings occasioned by self-reproach, and a wounded spirit. I seldom think of the time I spent in B. without a pang, the keenness of which you cannot easily conceive. It is a painful thought, that we are so long in learning how to live, that ere the lesson is well learned, life is spent. Another subject, on which I have lately been writing, and which has assisted to increase my depression, was suggested by the passage -' Even Christ pleased not himself.' If any one, who ever lived in this world, had a right to please himself, he surely had such a right; yet how far was he from exercising or claiming it! He evidently adopted and acted upon the principle, that, as man, he was not his own; that he belonged to God, and to the universe, and that he must do nothing merely for the sake of promoting his own personal gratification. I contemplate this example with feelings similar to those with which a child, who has just begun to hold a pen, may be supposed to look upon a superb copper-plate, which he is required to imitate; or, rather, with such feelings as one might indulge, who had been learning to write for many years, and yet found himself further from resembling his copy, than he was at first. " "Nov. 4. Quarterly fast. Went to meeting feeling very unwell, and found very few assembled. Was obliged to wait half an hour before there was a sufficient number to sing. Was entirely overcome by discouragement. Could not say a word, and, after struggling in vain with my feelings, was obliged to state them to the church and come away. "Nov. 9. Installation of a minister over the Third Church, to-day. Have reason tobe thankful, that I have been carried through this business of separation so well, and that affection for those who have left us is rather increased than diminished." This last date brings us down to a period, from which his health may be said to have been constantly declining. The progress of the maladies, which were wasting away his frame, may have been stayed for a few days or weeks in succession, after this; but their hold on him was never more weakened. The winter succeeding was one of infirmity and suffering. He continued to preach on the Sabbath; but the exhaustion conse 390 MEMOIR OF quent upon the exertion, often rendered it difficult for him to reach his home, distant but a few rods. So much overcome was he, as to be physically unable to lead the devotions of his own family; and his Sabbath nights were nights of restlessness and anguish. Still, when holy time again returned, he longed for the habitation of God's house, and again repeated his efforts, and with similar consequences. Observing with alarm this prostration of his strength, his people, in the spring of 1826, resolved upon an alteration of their meeting-house, with a view to his relief. The ceiling was brought down and arched, and the floor inclined towards the pulpit, by which changes more than one-third of the space to be filled by the speaker's voice was excluded, and the difficulty of filling it diminished in a still greater proportion. It was while this alteration was in progress, that he made his circuitous and last journey to the Springs, which has already been mentioned. On arriving there, he said to Mr. Whelpley, in allusion to his health-"I am in pursuit of a good which is constantly flying before me, and which, I apprehend, will forever elude my grasp. "' The incessant and unremitted labor of years, " adds Mr. W., "seemed to have left him but a mere wreck of being, which he longed to be rid of to serve God in a region of perfect health and boundless activity. He had little expectation of recovering hishealth, and several times remarked, that, if it was the will of God to take him away speedily, it was no matter how soon he departed. The idea of wearing out his days in a state of inactivity and consequent depression, was distressing to him, and made him deeply solicitous to have the question of life and death fully settled. Sometimes, said he, when I retire to bed, I should be happy to have it the last night of my life. W ith Job he might say —'I am made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed unto me. When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise, and the night be gone? I am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day! When I say, My bed shall comfort me, and my couch shall ease my complaint; then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me with night visions; so that my soul chooseth strangling and death rather than life. I loathe it; I would not live alway." Mr. Whelpley imagined- and in this he was unquestionably EDWARD PAYSON. 391 correct —that the sufferings of Dr. Payson were greater than any one knew or suspected; and he adds; thor were endured, for the most, in silence. At midnight, he would arise and walk his room, singing some plaintive air. At first, I knew not what to make of the unwonted and mournful sounds, which broke in upon my slumbers; and often, as the sound softly died away, my soul was filled with sadness. He complained much of his head. In one conversation, he dwelt particularly on the causes which had operated to undermine and destroy his health. Among them was his great and increasing anxiety for a general and powerful revival of religion among his people; his incessant labors to secure so great a blessing, and the repeated disappointments he had experienced from year to pear. We would seem, said Dr. Payson, to be on the eve of an extensive revival, and my hopes would be correspondently raised; and then the favorable appearances would vanish away. Under the powerful excitement of hope, and under the succeeding depression arising from disappointment, my strength failed, and I sunk rapidly under my labors. He spoke of having been under a temptation, constantly, to labor beyond his strength; and believed many a faithful minister had thus been tempted by Satan to cut short his days. In this way his own life had been shortened. When, in a season of excitement, he had exhausted his whole strength, even then Satan suggested that he had not done enough, but must do much more, or be counted unfaithful." If the proofs of his disinterestedness were not so abundant and conclusive, this ceaseless anxiety for a revival could hardly be regarded otherwise than as a sinful impatience, and as indicating a want of gratitude for what God did perform by him. It appears the more remarkable, when contemplated in connexion with the fact, that the church was continually growing under his ministrations, and the congregation enlarging, until there was not room enough to receive them. There are many good ministers, who would consider themselves favored by such a measure of success as attended his least honored labors. In no year of his ministry did his church receive less than ten new members, and in only one year so small a number; while, at another time, the yearly increase was seventy-three, and in the year of his death, seventy-nine; and the average number was more than thirty-five a year during the whole of his ministry. 3)2 MEMO IR OF If there were an entire suspension of divine influences at any time, it was of temporary duration. Judging from the accessions made to the church, there must have been a constant and gradual work of God. If the term of his ministry be divided into periods of five years, the number added in each period differs from that of any other period, by a comparatively small number. The difference is in favor of the first two periods, when, with fewer bodily infirmities, he " ceased not daily, and from house to house, to testify repentance towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ." About mid-summer, he returned from his last excursion abroad to the bosom of his family and flock, and continued to employ the little strength which remained in making known Jesus Christ and him crucified. From this labor no entreaties could prevail with him to desist. He continued to occupy his pulpit on the Sabbath, for the most part, through the following winter; notwithstanding parts of his body, particularly his right arm, had already begun to perish, and were not only use. less, but an incumbrance. But while " the outward man decayed, the inward man was renewed day by day." This is in a degree true of his mental faculties, as well as of his religious progress. The coruscations of his intellect delighted and astonished his visiters. Among these was the Secretary of the American Education Society, who, asking Dr. Payson for a message which he might carry from him to beneficiaries, received the following impromptu:-~' What if God should place in your hand a diamond, and tell you to inscribe on it a sentence which should be read at the last day, and shown there as an index of your own thoughts and'feelings? What care, what caution would you exercise in the selection! Now, this is what God has done. He has placed before you immortal minds, more imperishable than the diamond, on which you are about to inscribe, every day and every hour, by your instructions, by your spirit, or by your example, something which wvill remain, and be exhibited for, or against you, at the judgment day." We shall close our extracts, and this chapter, with two short letters to his mother. the last he ever wrote: EDWARD PAYSON. 393 "FEB. 1 11827. " MY DEA MOTHER:-I have just received your letter; and though I am obliged to write with my left hand, and that is numb, 1 must try to scratch a few lines in reply. I am no better; am tolerably contented and happy, but have not much sensible consolation. We have increasing evidence that L. is become pious; but E. who seemed to be in a promising way, has lost his impressions. You have probably heard, that Mr. R. has hopes that H. is converted. We have about a dozen hopeful converts, and appearances are encouraging. I have much to be thankful for. Wife, children and people, all try to minister to my comfort. I rejoice to hear that your mind is in so desirable a frame, though I expected no less. God has not led you so far to forsake you at last. Should you be taken away before me, I shall feel as Elisha did when he lost Elijah; for I doubt not your prayers have been of great service to me. I received a letter from G. lately, inviting me to come and spend part of the winter at New York. I thank him, but I cannot come. Home is the only place for a cripple, who can neither dress nor undress himself; besides, I can be of some service to my people, while here. I have many things to say; but writing is so wearisome and painful, that I can add nothing more. Assure G. and E. of my warmest love, and believe me' Your affectionate son." "FEB. 20. " MY DEAR MOTHER: — wrote the enclosed letter three weeks since, and sent it with the money by a man, who said he was going to New York; but after I hoped it had arrived there, it came back to me again. I have just received your last letter, and what shall I say in reply? If my hand would permit, I could say much; if my health would allow of it, I would come and see you. As it is, I can only say, God be with you, my dear mother, and bless you, as he has made you a blessing to me. If it be his will that we should not meet again in this world, I must say —Farewell, for a short time; for short, I trust, will be the time before we meet again. Farewell, then, my dear, dear mother! for a short time, farewell!" It proved to be the last farewell. His mother, a few days afterwards, was called to her eternal home. VOL. I. 50 CHAPTER XX. His last labors —His spiritual joys, heavenly counsels, and brightening intel lect, during the progress of his disease - His triumphant exit - Conclusion Dr. PAYSON was at length compelled to yield to the irresistible power of disease. Parts of his body, including his right arm and left side, were very singularly affected. They were incapable of motion, and lost all sense of feeling externally; while, in the interior parts of the limbs thus affected, he experienced, at intervals, a most intense burning sensation, which he compared to a stream of fused metal, or liquid fire, coursing through his bones. No external applications were of the least service; and in addition to his acute sufferings from this source. he was frequently subject to the most violent attacks of nervous head-ache. It was with great reluctance that he relinquished preaching. "The spirit continued willing," long after the "flesh failed." But who can resist the appointment of Heaven! The decree had gone forth, that he must die; and the progress of his complicated maladies declared but too unequivocally that the decree must soon be executed. He did not, however, cease preaching at once, but, at first, secured assistance for half the day only. An arrangement to this effect, which was expected to continue several weeks, commenced on the second Sabbath of March. He occupied the pulpit in the morning. His text was,'The word of the Lord is tried.' The sermon was not written, of course; but no one, that he ever wrote, not even his celebrated discourse on the Bible was more instructive and MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. 395 eloquent than this-particularly those parts in which he described the trials to which the word of the Lord had been subjected by its enemies, and the tests of a different character which it had sustained from its friends. Never, scarcely, were the mightiest infidels made to appear so puny, insignificant, and foolish. " He who sitteth in the heavens" could almost be seen " deriding them." When describing the manner in which Christians had tried it, he " spoke out of the abundance of his heart." Experience aided his eloquence, and added strength to the conviction which it wrought. And it would have been listened to with a still greater intenseness of interest, had his own trials, mentioned in the preceding chapter, been known. The application of the subject to his auditory must be left for imagination to supply; for it cannot be conveyed on paper. On pronouncing the blessing, he requested the congregation to resume their seats. He descended from the pulpit, and took his station in front of it, and commenced a most solemn appeal to the assembly. He began with a recognition of that feeling in an auditory, which leads them to treat a minister's exhortations as if they were merely a discharge of professional duty, by one placed above them, and having little sympathy with them. " I now put aside the minister," said he; " I come down among you; place myself on a visible equality; I address you as a fellow-man, a friend, a brother, and fellow-traveller to the bar of God; as one equally interested with yourselves in the truths which I have been declaring." He then gave vent to the struggling emotions of his heart, in a strain of affectionate entreaty, expressing the most anxious desires for their salvation. In conclusion, he referred them to the common practice, when men have any great object to accomplish, of assembling together, and adopting resolutions expressive of their convictions and purposes; and he wished his hearers to follow him in a series which he was about to propose, and to adopt them, not by any visible act or expression, but mentally, if they thought them of sufficient importance, and could do it sincerely. One resolution expressed a conviction of the truth of the Bible; another, of criminal indifference to its momentous disclosures; another, acknowledged the claims of Jehovah; another, the paramount importance of attention to the concerns of the soul; and 396 MEM OI OF another, the purpose to seek its salvation without delay. Though his withered right arm hung helpless by his side, yet lie seemed' instinct with life;" and every successive resolution was rendered emphatic by a gesture of the left. In all his public ministrations, during this period, when his body was sinking towards the grave, there was a singular adaptedness of truth to existing circumstances. The subjects upon which he expatiated were in unison with his condition, as a servant of God ripening fast for heaven. There was much of the nature of testimony for God. He omitted no opportunity, public or private, to maintain the honor and perfections of Him, whose ambassador he was. He could scarcely utter a word, without rendering it obvious to all who heard him, that God was higher in his esteem than any, than all created beings. One illustration of this statement was afforded by a sermon which he preached as late as the last Sabbath in April, from 2 Samuel xviii. 3 -'Thou art worth ten thousand of us.7 Parts of this sermon are reported from recollection, by his eldest daughter, who has been the most successful-where all fail, in retaining his characteristic expressions. The text, which was addressed to David by his subjects, Dr. Payson applied to Jehovah, and illustrated its truth in this application by a variety of methods, showing that God is worth ten thousand times ten thousand of human beings; yea, worth more than all the creatures that ever have been, and all that ever will be created:-:Suppose you take the capacity for happiness, which has been said by philosophers to be the only true standard of perfection:-if the happiness which God enjoys were divided into portions. each of which would be sufficient to fill an archangel to overflowing, there would be an infinite number of those portions. God's happiness is not merely a fountain, but an ocean without bottom or shore. And this should be a never-failing source of consolation to the Christian, when he reflects on all the misery in the world, that still happiness predominates; for God is infinitely-infinitely happy. " The man who should go round the universe —suppose) if you will, that each of the numerous millions of stars known to astronomers, is the centre of a system, and that each of these EDWARD PAY SON. 397 innumerable worlds is as populous as our own; —yet the man who should, at one fell strole, fill all these countless myriads of beings to the very brim of wretchedness, would do infinitely less mischief, than he who should, if that were possible, destroy the happiness of Jehovah. In the first instance, it would be but poisoning the streams; in the latter, the fountain itself would be turned into bitterness. -.' " Thus we have proved that God is worth infinitely more than all his creatures. But, instead of acknowledging and feeling this, men practically exalt themselves ten thousand times above God. They think ten thousand times as much of themselves as of God: an injury done to themselves affects them ten thousand times as much as one done to God; and Jehovah sees himself cast down-down-down from his throne, to fmake room for little insignificant worms of the dust. And what can be worse than this! Men talk about degrees of wickedness; because some have broken the laws of their country, and others have not; but this undervaluing and degrading their Maker is what all have done; and it is not possible to go farther in wickedness. Yes; this is what I have done,-and I desire to make the confession with shame. I have done this; and you have done this, my hearers. In the presence of this much insulted God, I must charge it upon you. And I tell you, my hearers, if you do not repent of this conduct, God will be obliged to put you down-down-down, as low as you have degraded him. If he should not do this, if, out of false pity to one individual, he should pardon you without repentance; that instant, all the songs of heaven would stop, and all the happiness of the universe would be dried np. Heaven, the habitation of God's glory, where myriads of celestial intelligences are contemplating his infinite perfections, would become, from a place of perfect and unmingled happiness, a scene of unutterable, inconceivable misery.' Jehovah is no longer worthy to be trusted! Jehovah is no longer worthy to be trusted!' would be the universal and pathetic exclamation.' We thought there was one Being, and only one, on whom we might depend; but even he has failed; and where now shall we look for perfection!' But, blessed be God, these dreadful imaginings can never be realized, for Jehovah will never change." 9S8 MEMIOIR OF In this connexion, we shall introduce a paragraph, coimmiunicated by a ministering brother, who occupied his pulpit on the day in which the interview mentioned took place:"As an instance of his strong fancy, and of the uses to which he applied it, I will mention, that, on the last Sabbath in which, with great difficulty, he entered the house of God he said to me,'I find in my illness, that the power of imagination is unweakened, and that it is very easy for me to wander into the regions of fancy. On the subject of the wisdom of God in the direction of mysterious events, and our duty of submission and faith, it has occurred to me recently, that our conceptions might be assisted by imagining God to take a human form, answeringif it were possible-to his infinite nature. What would be its dimensions? The angel, in the book of Revelation, is represented as standing with one foot on the sea, and the other on the land, and lifting up his hand to heaven. But, were God in a form such as I have supposed, one foot would be on the remotest star in one direction of infinite space, and the other foot on the remotest star in the opposite direction of the unbounded expanse; and should we propose to climb from his feet to the glories of his face,-if we had the speed of light, and had been travelling from the creation of the world, we should have made little progress in our journey. And shall we, then, presumptuously judge of the ways of this God, and imagine that we could manage earthly things more wisely than he? Shall we have any doubts as to his unfailing wisdom, and perfect rectitude, and infinite goodness?' I have not been able to give you his words, but I have given you his thoughts." Of the penetrating and all-absorbing effect of his last public ministrations, particularly at the communion table, some feeble conception may be formed from an extract futrnished by a gentleman, who, for twelve years, had been only an occasional attendant on his ministry. The first paragraph has no special reference to this period, but may properly be retained for the value of its testimony:"At the sacramental table, especially, did his mind appear to be absorbed in the contemplation o.f things unseen and eternal. ED WA R ) PA YSON. 399 To a candid observer it was manifest, at such seasons, that his ~fellowship was with the Father, and with his Son, Jesus Christ.' I doubt niot that I express the feelings of each member of his church, when I say; that often, on these occasions, he seemed to soar to the third heaven; and by those fervent and elevated effusions of thought, with which he always accompanied his administration of the ordinance, he literally carried the minds, if not the hearts, of his hearers with him. His influence, in this respect, is associated with my earliest recollections of Dr. Payson. In one particular instance, which occurred during my boyhood, such was the absorbing influence of his eloquence on my own mind; arising, doubtless, more from the attraction of his fervent zeal, and that creative fancy for which he was so remarkably distinguished, than from any special regard, on my own part, to the truths he uttered; that, from the commencement of the public services of the afternoon, to the close of the sacramental season which succeeded them, it seemed like a pleasing reverie; and had all the effect of an ocular survey of every scene connected with the humiliation and exaltation of the Saviour. So strong was the mental impression received, that I can distinctly recollect; not only his text on that occasion,-Rev. iv. 3, latter clause, but also the hymn with which the public services were introduced, -H. 25, B. 1, Watts. He seemed to have taken his flight from one of the most elevated heights of meditation, and to soar in a climax of devotion, and sublimity of thought, until faith changed the heavenly vision into a reality, and spread all the glories of redemption around the consecrated symbols of Christ's death. "I had the solemn pleasure, too, of being present at one of his last communion seasons with the church on earth. It was an affecting, a soul-cheering scene. Its interest was greatly enhanced by the nearness in which he seemed to stand to the communion of the church triumphant. His body was so emaciated with long and acute suffering, that it was scarcely able to sustain the effort once more imposed upon it; but his soul. raised above its perishing influence, and filled with a joyfil tranquility, seemed entirely regardless of the weakness of its mortal tenement. His right hand and arm were so palsied by disease, as to be quite useless; except that, in the act of breaking the bread, when he could not well dispense with it, he placed 400 MEMlOIR OF it on the table with the other hand, just as you raise any lifeless weight, until it had performed the service required of it. It seemed as if he was unwilling, that even the withered hand should be found unemployed in the holy work. Truly, thought I, there must be a blessed reality in that leligion, which can thus make the soul tranquil and happy, in the constant and rapid advances of decay and death! ~"I have never known Dr. Payson when he seemed more abstracted from earth than on this occasion. It was, as he supposed, and as his church feared, their final interview at that table. In all the glowing fervor of devotion, assisted by his ever fertile imagination, he contemplated the Saviour as visibly present in the midst of them; and, with his usual eloquence and closeness of appeal, he seemed to make each communicant feel, that what he imagined was a reality. There was a breathless silence; and the solemnity of the scene could hardly have been surpassed, if, as he expressed it, the Lord Jesus Christ were sitting before them; or addressing to each individual member the momentous inquiry,' Lovest thou me?' I can say, for one, that the terrors of hypocrisy never swelled so fearful, and the realities of the judgment-seat never seemed nearer, than at that solemn hour. And I trust I and many others were then enabled from the heart to pray, with the Psalmist, Search me, 0 God, &c. " From the occasional opportunities I have enjoyed of attending on Dr. Payson's administration of that ordinance, I can have no doubt that they were to him foretastes of that supper of the Lamb, on whose more blessed celebration he so triumphantly entered. And it is an interesting, a momentous question: " Shall we, who sat with him below, Commune with him above?" On the first of July, he attended public worship, and, after a sermon from his assistant, he rose and addressed his people thus:' Ever since I became a minister, it has been my earnest wish that I might die of some disease, which would allow me to preach a farewell sermon to my people; but as it is not prola EDWARD PAYSON. 401 ble that I shall ever, be able to do this, I will attempt to say a few words now:-it may be the last time that I shall ever address you. This is not merely a presentiment. It is an opinion founded on facts, and maintained by physicians acquainted with my case, that I shall never behold another spring. "And now, standing on the borders of the eternal world, I look back on my past ministry, and on the manner in which I have performed its duties; and, 0 my hearers, if you have not performed your duties better than I have mine, wo! wo i be to you, unless you have an Advocate and Intercessor in heaven. We have lived together twenty years, and have spent more than a thousand Sabbaths together, and I have given you at least two thousand warnings. I am now going to render an account how they were given, and you, my hearers, will soon have to render an account how they were received. One more warning I will give you. Once more, your shepherd, who will be yours no longer, entreats you to flee from the wrath to come. Oh, let me have the happiness of seeing my dear people attending to their eternal interests, that I may not have reason to say, I have labored in vain, I have spent my strength for nought." At the communion table, the same day, he said,"Christians seem to expect that their views of Christ, and love to him, will increase without their using the proper means. They should select some scene in his life, and meditate long upon it, and strive to bring the circumstances before their minds, and imagine how he thought and felt at the time. At first, all will appear confused and indistinct; but let them continue to look steadily, and the mists will disappear, and their hearts will begin to burn with love to their Saviour. At least one scene in Christ's life should be thus reviewed every day, if the Christian hopes to find his love to his Redeemer increase." His public labors were now nearly over; but he was daily and hourly uttering something to rouse the careless, or for the instruction, edification, and comfort of God's children. To his daughter, who expressed a wish that labor as certainly ensured success in spiritual as in temporal affairs, he said-' It does; it is just as certain that prayers for spiritual blessings VOL. I. 51 402 MEMOIR OF will be answered, whenever God sees best, as that the husbandman, who sows his seed with proper precaution, will reap. The only reason that our endeavors to obtain spiritual blessings are not oftener attended with success, is, they are not made in earnest. Never omit prayer, or any devotional exercise, when the stated season for it arrives, because you feel indisposed to the duty." JULY 12, 13. On both these days, Dr. Payson seemed a little revived. He had tried sailing around the harbor, and found it beneficial. On repeating the experiment, however, he discovered that, though these water excursions were of service to his lungs, they increased the paralytic affection -if such it was -in his arm, and they were relinquished. JULY 22. Sabbath. To his daughter he said, "There is nothing in which young converts are more prone to err, than in laying too much stress upon their feelings. If they have a comfortable half hour in the morning, it atones for a multitude of sins in the course of the day. Christ says,'if ye love me, keep my commandments.' It would be well for us to pay more attention to our conduct, and prove the depth of our feeling by our obedience." He also advised her to observe some plan with regard to reading on the Sabbath. In the morning he recommended reading the Scriptures exclusively, and afterwards works intended to convey information respecting religious subjects. JULY 29. He remarked to some new converts who called, that the most important direction he could give them was; to spend much time in retired converse with the Scriptures, and with God. "If you wished to cherish the remembrance of an absent friend, you would read over his letters daily, meditate on his acts of kindness to you, and look at any tokens of affection which he might have left you." " We are accustomed to suppose that God's feelings towards us vary according to our own; that when we are in a lively spiritual frame of mind, he regards us with more complacency than at other times. This is not the case. The feelings with which God regards us do not fluctuate like ours. " EDWARD PAY SON. 403 AUG. 5. Sabbath. This day, he entered the meeting-house l'ir the last time; and this month completes twenty years, since he entered it, the first time as a preacher-then a trembling youth, now the spiritual father of many hundreds; then just girded for the warfare, now the veteran, who had "fought the good fight, " and was just going to resign, his commission, and receive a crown of unfading glory. He made a great effort to go out, as there were twen.ty-one persons to be admitted to the church. He was supported into the house by his senior deacons; and, although he merely read the covenant, and remained during the administration of the sacrament, he was exceedingly overcome. Most of the persons present were much affected, and, after the services, many crowded around him, to take his hand for the last time. AUG. 8. He had a violent nervous head-ache; and was much interrupted in speaking by a difficulty of breathing; but said, in a cheerful voice, to some of his church who were in, "I want you always to believe that God is faithful. Howxever dark and mysterious any of his dispensations may appear, still confide in him. He can make you happy when every thing else is taken from you. " He baptized several children at his own house, but the exertion was too much for him. AUG. 13. He received from a society of young men in his parish, who were associated for religious improvement, a letter, in which they generously offered to give his son a liberal education. The following is his answer:"'TO THE SOCIETY FOR RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. "BELOVED BRETHREN: NO act of kindness which it was in the power of man to show, could have been more soothing to my anxieties as a dying parent, or more grateful to a dying minister, than your unexpected and most generous offer to furnish the means of a liberal education to my oldest son. "Most fervently do I thank you for making this offer, and the Author of all good for inducing you to do it. To see him thus already beginning to take care of a family, which I must soon leave, is a great encouragement to my faith, that he will continue to take care of them after I am gone. 404 MEMIOIR OF " If it is any satisfaction to you to know that you have assisted to smooth your pastor's dying pillow, and shed light on his last hours, you may feel that satisfaction in a very high degree. With most earnest prayers that God would reward you abundantly for this kind offer, I have concluded to accept it, provided that my son, when he shall have attained the age of sixteen, shall be found to possess such a character as will justify a hope that he will make a good use of the advantages with which you generously furnish him. And now, brethren, farewell. During this month, his "wreck of being" was further shattered by a spasmodic cough, which at times threatened absolute strangulation. SEPT. 4. He said to his wife and daughter -' I do not think you are sufficiently thankful for my consolations, or realize how wonderful it is that I am thus supported Owing to my natural activity, and unwillingness to be dependent on others for the supply of my wants, these trials are exactly those which are most calculated to make me miserable. But God can sweeten the bitterest cup." He afterwards said with emotions which would hardly allow him to speak, —' Oh, my daughter, how you will regret, when you come to see how good God is, that you did not serve him better. Oh! he is so good, so good." SEPT. 9. During the preceding week, he had rode out several times, being carried down stairs, and lifted into the chaise. For a few days he thought himself better; but these favorable appearances were of short duration. He remarked, that sometimes, in order to try his people's faith, God gives them a prospect that an affliction is about to be removed, and then permits it to return again. He compared his present case to that of a man, who, after having been a long time confined in prison, finds his door open one morning; but, on attempting to leave it, the door is suddenly closed with such violence, as to throw him prostrate on the floor. He was asked, on this day, by some of his friends, if he could EDWARD PAYSON. 405 see any particular reason for this dispensation. "No," replied he; "but I am as well satisfied as if I could see ten thousand. God's will is the very perfection of all reason. " In answer to the question, by a lady from B., Are you better than you were? he replied, "Not in body, but in mind. If my happiness continues to increase, I cannot support it much longer." On being asked, Are your views of heaven clearer and brighter than ever before? he said, -"Why, for a few moments, I may have had as bright; but formerly my joys were tumultuous, now all is calm and peaceful." He was asked, "In your anticipations of heaven, do you think of meeting departed friends?" After a moment's reflection, he said, with a most expressive countenance, "If I meet Christ,'tis no matter whether I see others or not-though I shall want some to help me praise him." He doubtless had an opinion on this subject; but he remembered Christ's answer to the question, "Are there few that be saved?' "God deals strangely with his creatures, to promote their happiness. WhTo would have thought that I must be reduced to this state, helpless and crippled, to experience the highest eajoyment!" " Y ou ought to feel happy, all ought to feel happy, who come here, for they are within a few steps of heaven." During the course of this conversation, he repeated this verse, "Thy sun shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon withdraw itself; for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended. " Turning to a young lady present, he said, "Do you not think this is worth travelling over many high hills and difficult places to obtain?" "Give my love to my friends in Boston; tell them all I ever said in praise of God or religion falls infinitely below the truth. " " Dr. Clarke, in his travels, speaking of the companies that were travelling from the East to Jerusalem, represents the procession as being very long; and, after climbing over the extended and heavy ranges of hills that bounded the way, some of the foremost at length reached the top of the last hill, and, stretching up their hands in gestures of joy, cried out, " The Holy City! 406 MEMOIR OF the Holy City! "-and fell down and worshipped; while those who were behind pressed forward to see. So the dying Christian, when he gets on the last summit of life, and stretches his vision to catch a glimpse of the heavenly city, may cry out of its glories, and incite those who are behind to press forward to the sight." To a clergyman —Oh, if ministers only saw the inconceivable glory that is before them, and the preciousness of Christ, they would not be able to refrain from going about, leaping and clapping their hands for joy, and exclaiming, I'm a minister of Christ! I'm a minister of Christ!" When I read Bunyan's description of the land of Beulah, where the sun shines and the birds sing day and night, I used to doubt whether there was such a place; but now miy own experience has convinced me of it, and it infinitely transcends all my previous conceptions." "I think the happiness I enjoy is similar to that enjoyed by glorified spirits before the resurrection. SEPT. 16. Sabbath. He awaked exclaiming, "I am going to mount Zion, to the city of the living God, to the heavenly Jerusalem, to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the first born, and to God the Judge of all." During the night of September 17th, he was seized witll spasms, which, it seemed, must separate soul and body. It was not thought by his physician, that he could survive a second attack; but his hold on life remained, though the spasms continued to return every succeeding night with more or less violence. Every new attack seemed, however, to strengthen the energies of his mind. * No better evidence of this can be desired, than is exhibited in a letter which he dictated to his sister: - "SEPT. 19. "DEAR SISTER:-Were I to adopt the figurative language of *" The soul's dark cottage, shattered and decayed, Let in new light through chinks which time had made." EDWARD PAYSON. 407 Bunyan, I might date this letter from the land of B3eulah, of which I have been for some weeks a happy inhabitant. The celestial city is full in my view. Its glories beam upon me, its breezes fan me, its odors are wafted to me, its sounds strike upon my ears, and its spirit is breathed into my heart. Nothing separates me from it but the river of death, which now appears but as an insignificant rill, that may be crossed at a single step, whenever God shall give permission. The Sun of Righteousness has been gradually drawing nearer and nearer, appearing larger and brighter as he approached, and now he fills the whole hemisphere; pouring forth a flood of glory, in which I seem to float like an insect in the beams of the sun; exulting, yet almost trembling, while I gaze on this excessive brightness, and wondering, with unutterable wonder, why God should deign thus to shine upon a sinful worm. A single heart and a single tongue seem altogether inadequate to my wants; I want a whole heart for every separate emotion, and a whole tongue to express that emotion. " But why do I speak thus of myself and my feelings? why not speak only of our God and Redeemer? It is because I know not what to say. When I would speak of them, my words are all swallowed up. I can only tell you what effects their presence produces, and even of these I can tell you but very little. 0, my sister, my sister! could you but know what awaits the Christian; could you know only so much as I know, you could not refrain from rejoicing, and even leaping for joy. Labors, trials, troubles, would be nothing; you would rejoice in afflictions, and glory in tribulations; and, like Paul and Silas, sing God's praises in the darkest night, and in the deepest dungeon. You have known a little of my trials and conflicts, and know that they have been neither few nor small; and I hope this glorious termination of them will serve to strengthen your faith, and elevate you hope.'And now, my dear, DEAR sister, farewell. Hold on your Christian course but a few days longer, and you will meet in heaven, "Your happy and affectionate brother, " EDWARD PAYSON." The next day, he sent for the editor of a religious journal, 408 MEMOIR OF and expressed his wishes in regard to the disposition which should be made of a certain class of effusions, which his exit would probably call forth -adding,'I make this request about as much for your sake as my own.' He had then survived three or four of these dreadtful nocturnal attacks, but observed that he could not calculate upon surviving another. In answer to the question, why he was thus affected in the night, rather than the day,-he proceeded, with as much readiness as if it had been the study of his life, to give a philosophical account of the change which takes place in the body, in its transit from a state of wakefulness to that of sleep. " Then," said he, —that is, as soon as the will resigns its power over the muscles and organs of the body-" then my diseases commence their gambols." To his daughter, who was obliged to defer a contemplated undertaking by an approaching storm, he turned, and said with a smile' —" I suppose you feel as if the equinox ought to be deferred on account of your school." SEPT. 21. "O, what a blessed thing it is to lose one's will! Since I have lost my will, I have found happiness. There can be no such thing as disappointment to me, for I have no desires but that God's will may be accomplished." "1I have been all my life like a child whose father wishes to fix his undivided attention. At first, the child runs about the room,-but his father ties up his feet; he then plays with his hands, until they likewise are tied. Thus he continues to do, till he is completely tied up; then, when he can do nothing else, he will attend to his father. Just so God has been dealing with me, to induce me to place my happiness in him alone. But I blindly continued to look for it here, and God has kept cutting off one source of enjoyment after another, till I find that I can do without them all, and yet enjoy more happiness than ever in my life before." " It sounds flat, when people tell me that it is just for God to afflict me, as if justice did not require infinitely more." He was asked, " Do you feel reconciled t-" 0! that is too EDWARD PAYSON. 409 cold. I rejoice, I triumph! and this happiness will endure as long as God himself; for it consists in admiring and adoring him.": I can find no words to express my happiness. I seem to be swimming in a river of pleasure, which is carrying me on to the great fountain." Sabbath morning, Sept. 23, he said,-' Last night I had a full, clear view of Death as the king of terrors; how he comes and crowds the poor sinner to the very verge of the precipice of destruction, and then pushes him down headlong! But I felt that I had nothing to do with this; and I loved to sit like an infant at the feet of Christ, who saved me from this fate. I felt that death was disarmed of all its terrors; all he could do would be to touch me, and let my soul loose to go to my Saviour." " Christians are like passengers setting out together in a ship for some distant country. Very frequently one drops overboard; but his companions know that he has only gone a shorter way to the same port; and that, when they arrive there, they shall find him; so that all they lose is his company during the rest of the voyage." "I long to measure out a full cup of happiness to every body, but Christ wisely keeps that prerogative in his own hands." " It seems as if all the bottles of heaven were opened; and all its fulness and happiness, and I trust, no small portion of its benevolence, is come down into my heart." "I am more and more convinced, that the happiness of heaven is a benevolent happiness. In proportion as my joy has increased, I have been filled with intense love to all creatures, and a strong desire that they may partake of my happiness." SEPT. 26. In answer to some complaints of one of the family, he said-' Perhaps there is nothing more trying to the VOL. I. 52 410 M EMOIR OF faith and patience of Christians, or which appears to them more mysterious, than the small supplies of grace which they receive. and the delays. which they meet with in having their prayers answered; so that they are sometimes ready to say, It is in vain to wait upon the Lord any longer. He then mentioned the text,' Wherefore gird up the loins of your minds, be sober, and hope to the end for the grace that is to be brought unto you at tha revelation of Jesus Christ.' A large portion of the grace which Christians are to receive will be given to them at the second corning of Christ, or immediately after death; and this will always be in proportion to their prayers and exertions here. Christians need not, therefore, be discouraged at the slow progress they make, and the little success which attends their efforts; for they may be assured that every exertion is noticed, and will be rewarded, by their heavenly Father." To a young convert he said,-" You will have to go through many conflicts and trials; you must be put in the furnace, and tempted, and tried, in order to show you what is in your heart. Sometimes it will seem as if Satan had you in his power, and that the more you struggle and pray against sin, the more it prevails against you. But when you are thus tried and desponding, remember me; I have gone through all this, and now you see the end." To another — You recollect the story of David rescuing the lamb from the lion and the bear. David loved the lamb before he rescued it from danger; but he loved it more afterwards. So Christ loves all his creatures; but he loves them more after he has taken them into his fold, and owned them as the purchase of his precious blood." " Christians might avoid much trouble and inconvenience, if they would only believe what they profess,-that God is able to make them happy without any thing else. They imagine that if such a dear friend were to die, or such and such blessings to be removed, they should be miserable; whereas God can make them a thousand times happier without them. To mention my own case,-God has been depriving me of one blessing after another; but as every one was removed, he has come in EDWARD PAYSON. 411 and filled up its place; and now, when I am a cripple, and not able to move, I am happier than ever I was in my life before, or ever expected to be, and, if I had believed this twenty years ago, I might have been spared much anxiety." " If God had told me some time ago, that he was about to make me as happy as I could be in this world, and then had told me that he should begin by crippling me in all my limbs, and removing me from all my usual sources of enjoyment; I should have thought it a very strange mode of accomplishing his purpose. And yet, how is his wisdom manifest even in this! for if you should see a man shut up in a close room, idolizing a set of lamps, and rejoicing in their light, and you wished to make him truly happy, you would begin by blowing out all his lamps; and then throw open the shutters, to let in the light of heaven." "Suppose a son is walking with his father, in whose wisdom he places the most entire confidence. He follows wherever his father leads, though it may be through thorns and briars, cheerfully and contentedly. Another son, we will suppose, distrusts his father's wisdom and love, and, when the path is rough or uneven, begins to murmur and repine, wishing that he might be allowed to choose his own path; and though he is obliged to follow, it is with great reluctance and discontent. Now, the reason that Christians in general do not enjoy more of God's presence, is, that they are not willing to walk in his path, when it crosses their own inclinations. But we shall never be happy, until we acquiesce with perfect cheerfulness in all his decisions, and follow wherever he leads without a murmur." After it had become certain that he would never again leave his chamber till he was carried out, yet, being unceasingly desirous to benefit his people, he sent a request, which was announced from the pulpit, that they would repair to his chamber. Once, it is believed, they came indiscriminately; at other times in specified classes, including as many as the chamber could contain. When he had addressed to them collectively his last most solemn and affectionate counsel, till compelled to desist by the 412 \MEMOI R OF failure of his strength, he took them individually by the hand. and, with a heavenly smile, bade them farewell! To members of his congregation, he spoke nearly as follows:" It has often been remarked, that people who have been into the other world, cannot come back to tell us what they have seen; but I am so near the eternal world, that I can see almost as clearly as if I were there; and I see enough to satisfy myself, at least, of the truth of the doctrines which I have preached. I do not know that I should feel at all surer, had I been really there. " It is always interesting to see others in a situation in which we know that we must shortly be placed ourselves; and we all know that we must die. And to see a poor creature, when, after an alternation of hopes and fears, he finds that his disease is mortal, and death comes to tear him away from every thing he loves, and crowds, and crowds him to the very verge of the precipice of destruction, and then thrusts him down headlong! There he is, cast into an unknown world; no friend, no Saviour to receive him. " 0, how different is this from the state of a man who is prepared to die. He is not obliged to be crowded reluctantly along; but the other world comes like a great magnet, to draw him away from this; and he knows that he is going to enjoy,-and not only knows, but begins to taste it,-perfect happiness; forever and ever; forever and ever! a "And now God is in this room; I see him; and 0, how unspeakably lovely and glorious does he appear,-worthy of ten thousand thousand hearts, if we had them. He is here, and hears me pleading with the creatures that he has made, whom he preserves, and loads with blessings, to love him. And 0, how terrible does it appear to me, to sin against this God; to set up our wills in opposition to his, and, when we awake in the morning, instead of thinking,' What shall I do to please my God to-day V to inquire,' What shall I do to please myself to-day?' After a short pause he continued, "It makes my blood run cold to think how inexpressibly miserable I should now be without religion. To lie here, and see myself tottering on the verge of destruction!-0 I should be distracted! And' ED WARD PAYSON. 413 when I see my fellow-creatures liable every moment to be reduced to this situation, I am in an agony for them, that they may escape their danger before it be too late. When people repent, they begin to see God's infinite perfections, how amiable and glorious he is, and the heart relents and mourns that it has treated him so ungratefully.: Suppose we should hear the sound of a man's voice pleading earnestly with some one, but could not distinguish the words; and we should inquire,'What is that man pleading for so earnestly?' 0, he is only pleading with a fellow creature to love his God, his Saviour, his Preserver and Benefactor. He is only pleading with him not to throw away his immortal soul, not to pull down everlasting wretchedness upon his own head. He is only persuading him to avoid eternal misery, and accept eternal happiness.''Is it possible,' we should exclaim,'that any persuasion can be necessary for this?' and yet it is necessary. 0 my friends, do, do love this glorious Beingdo seek for the salvation of your immortal souls. Hear the voice of your dying minister, while he entreats you to care for your souls." He afterwards said, —I am always sorry when I say any thing to any one who comes in; it seems so inadequate to what I wish to express. The words sink right down under the weight of the meaning I wish to convey." On another occasion, — I find no satisfaction in looking at any thing I have done; I want to leave all this behind, — it is nothing,-and fly to Christ to be clothed in his righteousness." Again, - I have done nothing myself. I have not fought, but Christ has fought for me; I have not run, but Christ has carried me; I have not worked, but Christ has wrought in me; Christ has done all." The perfections of God were to him a well-spring of joy, and the promises were " breasts of consolation," whence his soul drew its comfort and its aliment. 0!" exclaimed he, " the loving kindness of God-his loving kindness! This afternoon, 414 MEMOIR OF while I was meditating on it, the Lord seemed to pass by, and proclaim himself'The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gra, cious!' O how gracious! Try to conceive of that, his lovingkindness, as if it were not enough to say kindness, but-loving kindness. What must be the loving kindness of God, who is himself infinite love! " It seemed this afternoon as if Christ said to me,' You have often wondered and been impatient at the way by which I have led you; but what do you think of it now?' And I was cut to the heart, when I looked back and saw the wisdom and goodness by which I had been guided, that I could ever for a moment distrust his love." A clergyman from another state, who visited Dr. Payson about this stage of his illness, gave the following account of the interview in a letter to a friend:" His eye beams with the same animation as ever. The muscles of his face are unaffected by that which has spread all but death throughout the other parts of his system. When I entered the chamber, addressing me with a smile, he said,'I have no hand to welcome you with, but I am glad to see you.' I observed to him, that I was reluctant to lay any tax upon him in his present weak state, but had felt desirous to see him a moment. He replied that he did not feel parsimonious of the poor remains of strength he had left: he had got so near through, that it was not worth while to be solicitous about saving for future time. He conversed in a low, audible voice, and in the same strain of pointed, pithy remark as when in health. He observed, that the point in which he believed rninisters generally failed most, and in which he had certainly failed most, was in doing duty professionally, and not from the heart. I could not but say to him, that, probably, his practice had been marked with less of this error than that of most others. He seemed pained with the thought that any should be more deficient than he had been:', I hope it is not so! I hope it is not so!' Referring to the peace which the gospel afforded him under his trials, he said,'I have never half valued, as I ought, the doctrines which I have preached. The system is great and E D WARD P A Y S ON. 415 glorious, and is worthy of our utmost efforts to promote it. The interests depending will justify us in our strongest measures. In every respect we may embark our all upon it; it will sustain us." "Speaking of the temper requisite to the right discharge of ministerial duty, he said, I never was fit to say a word to a sinner, except when I had a broken heart myself; when I was subdued and melted into penitence, and felt as though I had just received pardon to my own soul, and when my heart was full of tenderness and pity-no anger, no anger.' He expressed himself with great earnestness respecting the grace of God as exercised in saving lost men, and seemed particularly affected that it should be bestowed on one so ill deserving as himself. "O how sovereign! O how sovereign! Grace is the only thing that can make us like God. I might be dragged through heaven, earth and hell, and I should be still the same sinful, polluted wretch, unless God himself should renew and cleanse me.' He inquired whether I could preach to his people on the morrow. Being told that I was not well, he replied,'Then do not preach; I have too often preached when I was not able.' "On taking leave, I expressed a hope that he might continue to enjoy the presence of God, and receive even increasing peace if he could bear it.'Oh!' said he,'when we meet in heaven, we shall see how little we know about it.' His whole manner and appearance is that of a man who has drunk into the spirit of heaven far more deeply than those around him." OCT. 7. In conversation with his eldest daughter, on being asked whether self-examination was not a very difficult duty for young Christians to perform, he replied, "Yes; and for old ones too, because it is displeasing to the pride of the heart, because wandering thoughts are then most apt to intrude, and because of the deceitfulness of the heart. When a Christian first begins to look into his heart, he sees nothing but confusion; a heap of sins and a very little good, mixed up together and he knows not how to separate them, or how to begin self-examination. But let him persevere in his efforts, and soon order will arise out of confusion." She mentioned to him a passage in the 416 IMEM OIR OF life of Mr. Alleine, which led him to say, " We never confess any faults that we consider really disgraceful. We complain of our hardness of heart, stupidity, &c.; but we never confess envy or covetousness, or revenge, or any thing that we suppose will lower us in the opinion of others; and this proves that we do not feel ashamed of coldness or stupidity. Jn short, when young Christians make confessions, unless there is an obvious call for them, it usually proceeds from one of these three motives;-either they wish to be thought very humble, and to possess great knowledge of their own hearts; or they think it is a fault which the other has perceived, and are willing to have the credit of having discovered and striven against it; or they confess some fault, from which they are remarkably free, in order to elicit a compliment. " There are no two feelings apparently more unlike than mortified pride and gratified pride: yet they are in reality very similar; and we are indulging one of these feelings almost constantly. When God permits every thing to go on very smoothly, and grants us some comforts, our pride is gratified; we are pleased with ourselves, with God,-and call the feeling gratitude,-and with those around us; we can be very pleasant and obliging. But let this state of things be reversed; let our corruptions be suffered to break loose, and trials and conflicts to assail us,-then our pride is mortified; we begin to fret and repine, and say that all our endeavors are useless. You cannot yet conceive how very small a portion of grace we have: so that, if we doubt whether matter is infinitely divisible, we can hardly doubt that grace is so. "With regard to self-examination, we should always have, as it were, our eye turned inward, to watch our motives and feelings. We should also, at night, review the conduct of the day; and it would aid you to do this, if you made an abstract of the duties you owe to God and to your fellow-creatures in the several relations of life, and also of your besetting sins. But the most important direction I can give you, is, to look to Christ; for while we are contemplating his perfections, we insensibly imbibe his spirit." Notwithstanding his deep seriousness, there was occasionally a pleasantry in his manner of expressing himself, which would EDWARD PAYSON. 417 excite an involuntary smile:-" What contrary and unreasonable creatures we are! The more God does for us, the less we thank him. Here I am, stripped of more than half my blessings, as we ordinarily estimate them, and yet I never felt half so grateful to God before. We are just like the harlequin, when hired to mourn, of whom his employer said,' The better I pay him, the more he won't grieve!"' A gray-headed member of his church, who is usually very abrupt in his address, but generally very scriptural, entered his chamber one day with the salutation-" Watchman, what of the night?" — I should think it was about noon-day "-was the answer. On Sabbath day, Oct 7,' it was the privileged lot of the young men of the society to assemble, at his request, in his chamber, when he addressed them in substance as follows: " My young friends, you will all one day be obliged to embark on the same voyage, on which I am just embarking; and as it has been my especial employment, during my past life, to recommend to you a Pilot to guide you through this voyage, I wished to tell you what a precious Pilot he is, that you may be induced to choose him for yours. I felt desirous that you might see that the religion I have preached can support me in death. You know that I have many ties which bind me to earth; a family to whom I am strongly attached, and a people whom I love almost as well: but the other world acts like a much stronger magnet, and draws my heart away from this. Death comes every night, and stands by my bedside in the form of terrible convulsions, every one of which threatens to separate the soul from the body. These continue to grow worse and worse, until every bone is almost dislocated with pain, leaving me with the certainty that I shall have it all to endure again the next night. Yet, while my body is thus tortured, the soul is perfectly, perfectly happy and peacefiul-more happy than I can possibly express to you. I lie here, and feel these convulsions * The dates in this chapter fix the time to which a part only of his observations must be referred; generally the first, or first two or three paragraphs which follow them. The precise date of most of them is not recollected. VOL. I. 53 418 IIMEMOI;R OF extending higher and higher, without the least uneasiness; but my soul is filled with joy unspeakable. I seem to swim in a flood of glory which God pours down upon me. And I know, I know, that my happiness is but begun; I cannot doubt that it will last forever. And now is this all a delusion?' Is it a delusion which cal fill the soul to overflowing with joy in such circumstances? If so, it is surely a delusion better than any reality. But no, it is not a delusion; I feel that it is not. I do not merely know that I shall enjoy all this -1 enjoy it now. "LMy young friends,-were I master of the whole world, what could it do for me like this? Were all its wealth at my feet, and all its inhabitants striving to make me happy, what could they do for me? Nothing!-nothing! Now, all this happiness I trace back to the religion which I have preached, and to the time when that great change took place in my heart, which I have often told you is necessary to salvation; and I now tell you again, that without this change, you cannot, no, you cannot, see the kingdom of God.' And now, standing, as I do, on the ridge which separates the two worlds, feeling what intense happiness or misery the soul is capable of sustaining; judging of your capacities by my own, and. believingthat those capacities will be filled to the very brim with joy or wretchedness forever; can it be wondered at, that my heart yearns over you, my children, that you may choose life, and not death? Is it to be wondered at, that I long to present every one of you with a full cup of happiness, and see you drink it; that I long to have yol make the same choice which I made, and from which springs all my happiness'? "A young man, just about to leave this world, exclaimed,'The battle's fought! the battle's fought! the battle's fought! but the victory is lost forever.' But I can say, The battle's fought, and the victory is won! the victory is won, forever! I am going to bathe in an ocean of purity, and benevolence, and happiness, to all eternity. And now, my children, let me bless you; not with the blessing of a poor, feeble, dying man, but with the blessing of the infinite God. The grace of God, and the love of Christ, and the communion of the Holy Ghost, be with all, and each one of you, forever and ever: amen." Having delivered his dying messages to all classes among his EDWARD PAYSON. 419 own flock, he commissioned a ministering brother to bear one to the association of ministers, who were to meet in a few days. The purport of it was — a hearty assurance of the ardent love with which he remembered them even in death; an exhortation to love one another with a pure heart fervently; to love their work, to be diligent in it, to expect success, to bear up under their discouragements, be faithful unto death, and look for their reward in heaven.'-I rejoice, said the brother, rejoice more than.1 can express, to be the bearer of such a message; for you, perhaps, are aware that many of your brethren have thought you distant, and reserved, and as having cherished too little of a fellow-feeling towards them. "I know it," said he; " but my apparent reserve was not owing to any want of affection for them, but to a very different cause: I have been all my days, like a soldier in the forefront of the hottest battle, so intent in fighting for my own life, that I could not see who was falling around me." While speaking of the rapturous views he had of the heavenly world, he was asked if it did not seem almost like the clear light of vision, rather than that of faith.' Oh!" he replied, " I don't know-it is too much for the poor eyes of my soul to bear! they are almost blinded with the excessive brightness. All I want is to be a mirror, to reflect some of those rays to those around me." "' My soul, instead of growing weaker and more languishing, as my body does, seems to be endued with an angel's energies, and to be ready to break from the body, and join those around the throne." A friend with whom he had been conversing on his extreme bodily sufferings, and his high spiritual joys, remarked —" presume it is no longer incredible to you, if ever it was, that martyrs should rejoice and praise God in the flames and on the rack." " No," said he, " I can easily believe it. I have suffered twenty times-yes, to speak. within bounds-twenty times as much as I could in being burnt at the stake, while my joy in God so abounded, as to render my sufferings not only tolerable. but welcome. The sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed.;' 420 MEMOIR OF At another time,-" God is literally now my all in all. While he is present with me, no event can in the least diminish my happiness; and were the whole world at my feet trying to minister to my comfort, they could not add one drop to the cup." " It seems as if the promise,' God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes,' was already fulfilled to me, as it respects tears of sorrow. I have no tears to shed now, but those of love, and joy, and thankfulness." OCT. 16. To his daughter,-"You will avoid much pain and anxiety, if you will learn to trust all'your concerns in God's hand.'Cast all your care upon him, for he careth for you.' But if you merely go and say that you cast your care upon him, you will come away with the load on your shoulders. If I had the entire disposal of your situation, and could decide how many scholars you should have, and what success you should meet with, you would feel no anxiety, but would rely on my love and wisdom; and if you should discover any solicitude, it would show that you distrusted one or the other of these. Now all your concerns are in the hands of a merciful and wise Father; therefore, it is an insult to him to be careful and anxious concerning them. Trust him for all,- abilities, success, and every thing else, -and you will never have reason to repent it." At one time, he was heard to break forth in the following soliloquy: - "' What an assemblage of motives to holiness does the gospel present! I am a Christian-what then? Why, I am a redeemed sinner-a pardoned rebel-all through grace, and by the most wonderful means which infinite wisdom could devise. I am a Christian-what then 3 Why, I am a temple of God, and surely I ought to be pure and holy. I am a Christian what then? I am a child of God, and ought to be filled with filial love, reverence, joy, and gratitude. I am a Christian, what then? Why, I am a disciple of Christ, and must imitate EDWARD PAYSON. 421 him who was meek and lowly in heart, and pleased not himself. I am a Christian-what then? Why, I am an heir of heaven, and hastening on to the abodes of the blessed, to join the full choir of glorified ones, in singing the song of Moses and the Lamb; and surely I ought to learn that song on earth." To Mrs. Payson, who, while ministering to him, had observed, " Your head feels hot, and seems to be distended," he replied-" It seems as if the soul disdained such a narrow prison, and was determined to break through with an angel's energy, and, I trust, with no small portion of an angel's feeling, until it mounts on high." Again,'" It seems as if my soul had found a pair of new wings, and was so eager to try them, that, in her fluttering, she would rend the fine net-work of the body to pieces." At another time,-" My dear, I should think it might encourage and strengthen you, under whatever trials you may be called to endure, to remember me. 0! you must believe that it will be great peace at last." At another time, he said to her,-" After I am gone, you will find many little streams of beneficence pouring in upon you, and you will perhaps say,' I wish my dear husband were here to know this.' My dear, you may think that I do know it by anticipation, and praise God for it now." "Hitherto I have viewed God as a fixed Star, bright indeed, but often intercepted by clouds; but now he is coming nearer and nearer, and spreads into a Sun so vast and glorious, that the sight is too dazzling for flesh and blood to sustain." This was not a blind adoration of an imaginary deity,; for, added he, "I see clearly that all these same glorious and dazzling perfections, which now only serve to kindle my affections into a flame, and to melt down my soul into the same blessed image, would burn and scorch me like a consuming fire, if I were an impenitent sinner." He said he felt no solicitude respecting his family; he coula 422 MDEMOI R OF trust them all in the hands of Christ. To feel any undue solicitude on their account, or to be willing to leave them with God, would be like "'a child who was reluctant to go to school, lest his father should burn up his toys and play-things, while he was absent." Conversing with a friend on his preparation for his departure, he compared himself to "a person who had been visiting his friends, and was about to return home. His trunk was packed, and every thing prepared, and he was looking out of the window, waiting for the stage to take him in." When speaking of the sufferings he endured, particularly the sensation of burning in his side and left leg, he said that, if he expected to live long enough to make it worth while, he would have his leg taken off. On Mrs. Payson's uttering some expression of surprise, he replied-" I have not a very slight idea of the pain of amputation; yet I have no doubt that I suffer more every fifteen minutes, than I should in having my leg taken off." His youngest child, about a year old, had been under the care of a friend, and was to be removed a few miles out of town; but he expressed so strong a wish to see Charles first, that he was sent for. The look of love, and tendernesss, and compassion, with which he regarded the child, made an indelible impression on all present. At his request, some of the choir, belonging to the congregation, came a few days before his death, for the purpose of singing, for his gratification, some of the songs of Zion. He selected the one commencing,;" Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings;" part of the hymn,' I'll praise my Maker with my breath;" and the " Dying Christian to his Soul." Sabbath day, October 21st, his last agony commenced. This holy man, who had habitually said of his racking pains, "These are God's arrows, but they are all sharpened with love" — and who, in the extremity of suffering, had been accustomed to repeat, as a favorite expression, "I will bless the Lord at all times, " EDWA RD P AYSON. 423 -had yet the'"dying strife" to encounter. It commenced with the same difficulty of respiration, though in an aggravated degree, which had caused him great distress at intervals, during his sickness. His daughter, who had gone to the Sabbath school, without any apprehension of so sudden a change, was called home. Though laboring for breath, and with a rattling in the throat similar to that which immediately precedes dissolution, he smiled upon her, kissed her affectionately, and said -- God bless you, my daughter!" Several of the church were soon collected at his bed side; he smiled on them all, but said little, as his power of utterance had nearly failed. Once he exclaimed,'Peace! peace! Victory! victory!" He looked on his wife and children, and said, almost in the words of dying Joseph to his brethren-words which he had before spoken of as having a peculiar sweetness, and which he now wished to recall to her mind — "I am going, but God will surely be with you. " His friends watched him, expecting every moment to see him expire, till near noon, when his distress partially left him; and he said to the physician, who was feeling his pulse, that he found he was not to be released yet; and though he had suffered the pangs of death, and got almost within the gates of Paradise -yet, if it was God's will that he should come back and suffer still more, he was resigned. He passed through a similar scene in the afternoon, and, to the surprise of every one, was again relieved. The night following, he suffered less than he had the two preceding. Friday night had been one of inexpressible suffering.'That, and the last night of his pilgrimage, were the only nights in whlich he had watchers. The friend who attended him through his last night, read to him, at his request, the twelfth chapter of the second epistle to the Corinthians; parts of which must have been peculiarly applicable to his case. On Mlonday morning, his dying agonies returned in all their extremity. For three hours, every breath was a groan. On being asked if his sufferings were greater than on the preceding Friday night, he answered, " Incomparably greater." He said that the greatest temporal blessing, of which he could conceive, would be one breath of air. M[rs. Payson, fearing, from the expression of suffering in his countenance, that he was in mental as well as bodily anguish, questioned him on the subject. With extreme difficulty he was enabled to articulate the words, "Faith 424 M E MO IR OF and patience hold out." About mid-day, the pain of respiration abated, and a partial stupor succeeded. Still, however, he continued intelligent, and evidently able to recognize all who were present. His eyes spoke, after his tongue became motionless. He looked on Mrs. Payson, and then his eye, glancing over the others who surrounded his bed, rested on Edward, his eldest son, with an expression which said-and which was interpreted by all present to say, as plainly as if he had uttered the words of the beloved disciple - "Behold thy mother!" There was no visible indication of the return of his sufferings. He gradually sunk away, till about the going down of the sun, when his happy spirit was set at liberty. His "ruling passion was strong in death." His love for preaching was as invincible as that of the miser for gold, who dies grasping his treasure. Dr. Payson directed a label to be attached to his breast, with the words- ~ Remember the words.which I spake unto you while I was yet present with you;" that they might be read by all who came to look at his corpse, and by which he, being dead, still spake. The same words, at the request of his people, were engraven on the plate of the coffin, and read by thousands on the day of interment. His funeral sermon was preached by the Rev. Charles Jenkins, pastor of the Third Church in Portland, from 2 Timothy, iv. 6, 7, 8 -'I am now ready to be offered, " &c. "The gates of this Zion mourn," said Mr. Jenkins, in his introductory paragraph; for her watchman sleeps in death.' He has'finished his course.' His voice has ceased forever to echo along these consecrated walls. We beheld him descend into the dark valley, shining with new and more heavenly lustre. And now, completely and forever escaped from the damps and darkness of earth and sin, our thoughts delight to follow him amidst the glories of that pure world, where,'they that are wise shine as the firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars for ever and ever.' We have stood gazing at the fiery element of outward suffering, in which he was borne away, until all has vanished; but we love to linger, that we may catch something of that spirit, that made him'joyful in tribulation,' and triumphant in death. The living image of his now unconscious, but beloved form, is fondly cherished in many a bosom; while purer affections, and livelier faith, behold him wearing a EDWARD PAYSON. 425 crown of righteousness. It is grateful to recur, in melancholy recollections, to the past, and hang again on those lips, which are sealed in perpetual silence. More grateful still is it to glance forward, on the strong pinions of hope, to a future meeting and an eternal union with him, and'the spirits of the just made perfect. After having gone through with the discussion of his subject, Mr. Jenkins thus reverted to the occasion:" Such, my hearers, are the nature, the objects, and the grounds of the dying believer's assurance. They are topics which sort with the spontaneous reflections of every serious mind, on an occasion like the present. They are topics which have just been so strikingly exhibited in the last days of our dear departed friend, that every thing I have attempted to offer has appeared to me scarcely other than the accumulation of "words without knowledge. " Had he not interdicted me the privilege, I would gladly have let his death-bed speak in this illustration. Instead of detaining you with such low views on those lofty themes, I would have lifted you up from the low level of our ordinary thoughts, by repeating some of those "b burning words and breathing thoughts' that his departed soul expressed. And even now I may not be denied the privilege of exalting the grace of God, by repeating a few of his expressions, indicating the nature, objects, and grounds of assurance, as he stood on the borders of two worlds." "Surely, he who could utter such language was ready to be offered-he had fought a good fight; he had finished his course in triumph, and now wears the victor's crown of righteousness. His' witness is in heaven; his record is on high;' and there his eternal weight of glory is begun. "And what shall I say more? I might speak of his gifted intellect-I might dwell on its wonderful powers of combination; on that excursive faculty, which, forever glancing from earth to heaven, and from heaven to earth, could gather the universe around him in aid of his illustrations. But to speak on these points becomes not this solemn occasion. He would frown on the attempt. He counted all these'loss for Christ.' If I may speak of his character, it shall be that character which 426 MEMOIR OF had so conspicuously the Christian stamp. In this respect, grace made him great. It wrought a deep work in his soul. The predominant features of his whole mind, for many years, were high spiritual views, and deep spiritual feelings. These tinged, or railer were the element of, his thoughts and efforts. His natural ardor of temperament doubtless affected, not a little, his religious exercises. It gave them violence and energy. His seasons of spiritual elevation were heaven brought down to earth. His seasons of religious depression resembled the storms of autumn, sudden, dark, threatening-leaving a serener and. purer sky, but betokening that winter is approaching. He was pre-eminently a man of prayer. There was in his prayers a copiousness, a fervor, a familiarity, a reaching forth of the soul into eternity, that was almost peculiar to himself; and that told every hearer, that heaven was his element, and prayer his breath, and life, and joy. As a preacher, it is easier to say what he was not, than what he was. He was eloquent, and yet no one could describe his eloquence to the apprehension of a stranger. It consisted in an assemblage of qualities that could be seen and felt, but not described. He did not preach himself. His subject always stood between himself and his audience. Ah! I will not-I cannot enlarge. Let the thousand voices of those, who have been brought to the knowledge of Christ by his ministrations, tell what he was as a preacher. - Shall I speak of his loss? To this religious community it is great. Few, at his period of life, have left an influence operating so widely and usefully on the moral and religious condition of men. That influence has gone very far. It is flying and will long be flying among the winged messengers of salvation." Having followed this distinguished servant of Jesus from the commencement to the termination of his useful career, an extended analysis of his character would form an appropriate conclusion to the book. Such an analysis was contemplated, but is precluded by the unexpected size to which the volume has already grown. The omission will be the less regretted, as its place is supplied by a fuller development of facts, from which that character may be more accurately and minutely known. EDWA RD PAYSON. 427 By drawing attention to a few points, however, -which will be stated with as much brevity as possible, - some erroneous impressions may be obviated, and the benefit of a large class of readers consulted. His physical conformation was of a very delicate structure, extremely sensitive and easily excited, ranking him beyond all question with the genus irritabile vatum. His constitutional tendencies were strengthened, and his sufferings from this source aggravated, by his lamentable imprudence, in venturing on a course of severe abstinence and protracted mental efforts, under which his nature sunk. Here was the great error of his life. To censure a man for constitutional infirmity is as unjust and inhuman as to censure him for a bodily deformity, which he had no agency in producing. The aggravation of natural evils by voluntary acts is, however, a just subject of animadversion.@ * It is not easy to determine how far a man is accountable in a case like this. There is a general propensity to pronounce rash and cruel judgment upon men thus affected; or, what is worse, to treat them with unfeeling ridicule. It is some apology for Dr. Payson, that the health of sedentary men had not, at the time of his error, become the subject of much attention; his was in part the sin of ignorance. The case is now different. Much has been said, and much written on the subject, and there is in the Christian Spectator for April, 1827, an essay on the Influence of Nervous Disorders upon Religious Experience, which ought to be read in connexion with this Memoir. Il an earlier number of the same work, (April, 1826,) is an article On the Mutual influence of the Mind and Body,- an inquiry which is deserving the consideration of all who would judge rightly of the phenomena that are sornetinmes witnessed in the subjects of nervous affections. We quote a few sentences: " All these feelings are not in such cases strictly moral, nor are we accountable for them, except as we are accountable for inducing that state of physical organization from which they result. They are the offspring of a diseased mind, and cannot be shaken off whilst the physical cause remains. Every physical state of the nervous system has a correspondent state of mental emotion; and to remove the latter, the former must be changed. " " But although physical causes have so extensive and important an influence upon the mind, though they so often weaken and disorganize its powers, yet no mental diseases are so little understood as those originating in a physical cause; none excite so little sympathy, none are more real, and none give rise to more exquisite suffering. The unhappy victim is perhaps ridiculed, or, if not ridiculed, passes long and wretched hours in the miserable world presented through the medium of a diseased mind, till death sweeps him and 428 MEMOIR OF Nervous irritability, with its consequent depression, was an ingredient in Dr. Payson's nature, and would, without doubt, have been equally conspicuous, and vastly more disastrous in its effects, had he lived a stranger to experimental religion. Though he suffered inconceivably in his own person from this cause, yet he seemed to have had it so far under his control, that it seldom, if ever, diminished his usefulness, or the amount of his active services, or was attended with ill effects in relation to others. He was not incessantly doling out his complaints into the ears of his fellow-creatures; he kept them chiefly to himself. H-e was too wise to sue for sympathy from " nerves of wire." His melancholy never, in a single instance, that is recollected, brought him into " bondage through fear of death." He invariably contemplated an exchange of worlds with complacency, as a desirable event, "a consummation devoutly to be wished." As rarely, almost, did it disqualify him for, or indispose him to any official labor, which was demanded by the state of his flock. However reduced in strength or depressed in feelings, he was quick to hear, and prompt to obey, all pastoral calls; and often did so when he needed to be in his bed, and under the care of the nurse or physician. It never rendered him unequal to the most sudden and trying emergencies of life. He could meet, with the utmost readiness, any demands which unexpected and distressing events made upon him. In the alarm of a conflagration, when confusion of mind and general agitation render worse than useless one half of the endeavors which are made to stay the calamity, and rescue property and lives from destruction, he was cool and collected, and a most efficient helper. In time of war and public calamity, his mind was, if ever, kept in perfect peace. The most undisturbed composure and resignation were apparent in him, when the objects of his dearest earthly affections were languishing.and undergoing mortal agonies before his eyes; the same was true when tortures like those of the rack seized and convulsed his his sorrows to the land of forgetfulness; yet, while the physical cause continues its influence, a man might as well attempt to heap Pelion on Ossa, as to remove from his burdened mind the pressure of distempered imaginations. Let those testify, upon whom Dyspepsy has laid her leaden hand, quenching the fire of feeling and imagination, checking the flow of intellect, and haunting the mind with spectral apparitions of unreal evil." EDWARD PAYSON. 429 own frame. He has been known, also, to walk deliberately up, and cut the cord by which a suicide was suspended, when others, of firm nerves, stood gazing, horror-stricken at the spectacle. That it was originally his calamity, and not his crime, is further evident from the fact, that it bore upon him with almost insupportable weight at some times when faith and hope coexisted with it. In all his private writings, no expressions have been found indicative of a more keen sense of suffering from this cause, than some which he penned, when his hope of heaven existed to a degree amounting almost to assurance. "This oppressive melancholy cut the very sinews of the soul, so that it could not throw off the load." This malady may be regarded as having reached its climax during his first essays as a preacher. There had been causes favoring its rapid progress, which did not afterwards exist. And, notwithstanding the greater subsequent prostration of his health, its general symptoms wore a mitigated aspect, and became less distressing from year to year. Some short seasons are to be excepted from this general remark; particularly portions of the year or two next preceding that in which he died, -when, in addition to his extreme weakness, his mind was agitated by questions of great moment to the general interests of religion. Though his light was obscured by a temporary cloud, yet was his path, in an emphatic sense, like the rising sun, shining more and more unto the perfect day. Probably there was not a day during the last six months of his life, in which the Sun of Righteousness did not shine upon him in full-orbed splendor. As there are " laws pertaining to the union of mind and body which affect them in common," it is a matter of course, that the disorders of his physical frame should modify, in some degree, the exercises of his mind and his religious affections. Hence we have seen him writing ibitter things against himself, for causes which, with a different temperament, would have given him little uneasiness. We have seen him, at times, " poring so closely over his own frame of mind, as scarcely to be able to lift up his eyes to the cross; or, if his eyes glanced that way, they were so diffused with penitential tears, that they saw but dimly the merit of the Saviour's blood, the compassions of his heart, and the freeness of his salvation." At one stage of his religious progress, he seems to have been so anxious for happy 430 MEMOIR OF ~frames, that, without being conscious of it at the time, the obtaining of such frames was, perhaps, the immediate end of his offices of devotion; and according to their state he graduated his hope. As those were joyful or gloomy, this was elevated or depressed. This error, and the sore chastisement which he suffered in consequence, he in his last days held forth as a warning to a near relative, whom he supposed to be in danger of a similar mistake. His religion also, in his own view, was, for a time at least, tinged with romance. This resulted from his ardor of temperament. " By religious romance," he once said in conversation, " I mean the indulgence of unwarranted expectations; expectations that our sins are to be subdued at once in some uncommon way, or by some uncommon means; just as a man would expect to become rich by drawing a prize in a lottery, or in some other hap-hazard way. We cannot, indeed, expect too much, if we regulate our expectations by the word of God; but we may expect more than he warrants us to expect, and when our unwarranted expectations are disappointed, we are apt to sink into despondency. Christians whose natural feelings are strong are most liable to run into this error. But I know of no way to make progress in holiness, but the steady, humble, persevering practice of meditation, prayer, watchfulness, self-denial, and good works. If we use these means, our progress is certain." None of these defects, however, entered so deeply into the character of his religion as to conceal the marks of its genuineness, or scarcely to obscure them. The features which proclaimed its heavenly origin and its heavenly tendency, were strongly marked and abiding. Almost from its commencement, we have seen him habitually discrihninating between " the real and the imaginary, the scriptural and the erroneous, the precious and the vile," in his own religious emotions. He had been the first to apply to them the only infallible test, and the first to detect and abjure whatever did not sustain the trial of Scripture. We see him, in reference to his own exercises, making the distinction between distress of mind and brokenness of heart, and between other affections which a hypocrite or a deluded man would be certain to confound. Ardent and impassioned as was his religion, it is nevertheless EDWARD PAYSON. 431 a noticeable fact, that seldom, if ever, did an expression of the workings of the heart towards the Object of his supreme affections escape him, even in private, which was suited to awaken degrading and earthly associations. The impression must be deeply imprinted on every reader, that the intercourse which he maintained with God was a holy intercourse. While he was filled with the highest admiratio.n of the condescension of God, and talked with him almost with the same familiarity with which a man addresses his friend: it was still with the profoundest reverence, and with a deep-seated consciousness of the distance between the Creator and the creature-a characteristic which belongs to no fanatic. His devotional contemplations, even when they have most the appearance of extravagance, differ widely from the reveries of the enthusiast. He is no where seen regarding himself as the only creature in the universe, or as the peculiar favorite of heaven; nor exulting in the thought of being saved, and made eternally happy, independently of the medium through which salvation is effected. He saw and felt, that there were interests to be consulted of more importance to the universe than his individual happiness, and wished to be saved in no way which would put these interests in jeopardy. If there was a single attribute of Jehovah, which he contemplated with more exquisite pleasure than any other, or one which he desired above all to imitate, it was holiness. And seldom did his thoughts revert to this perfection without an earnest prayer that his fellow creatures might become holy. If there was ever a time when his religion might be mistaken for a " moping sentimentalism," or a " monkish religion," it was while he pursued in solitude his studies preparatory to the ministry; but,'even then, it was not " that sickly sensitiveness, which serves only to divert attention from what is important in practical virtue." His immediate relations to his fellow-men were then comparatively few, and made only small and infrequent demands upon his time and attention, and sufficiently account for the appearance which his religion then assumed. But, even at that time, he does not seen to have been deficient in relative duty; and when duties of this class were greatly multiplied, he was a pattern of fidelity, punctuality, and perseverance. His practice of all the moral virtues was so exact and thorough; that the bitterest 432 MEMOIR OF enemy was unable to detect any delinquency. And with a heart full charged with benevolence, he was ever " doing good to all men as he had opportunity, especially to them of the household of faith." In short, if the existence of true religion is to be known by its practical fruits, we know not the man who could sustain a closer scrutiny than Dr. Payson. He was remarkably free from one class of indulgences, to which his constitution and often infirmities must have predisposed him, and to which he must have been strongly tempted by the fashions of society, when the use of stimulating drinks was common in all circles, and the glass was tendered almost with the first salutation. But he kept himself pure. This and similar facts show very strikingly the strength of religious principle in his soul, and how much he owed to divine grace. The faults of Dr. Payson were of a kind suited to make an impression altogether disproportionate to their moral obliquity. To a stranger, who had seen him but once, and under the influence of those agitated and desponding feelings with which he left the conference room, l-and there were two or three such occurrences in the course of his life, -he would, probably, have appeared rash, petulant, and unreasonably severe; and this sudden tide of disagreeable feelings would have been taken for his general character. A stranger would not know, what his church knew, that, by the time he had reached his home, he had assumed to himself the blame which he had charged upon them; and that, the first opportunity, he would meet them with subdued feelings and the humility of a child. A transient observer would not have seen the influence of this step on the church: and that nothing could have been so effectual to produce relentings in them, and bring them back to their duty, as the reflection that they had so deeply grieved the heart of him who was so ready to spend and be spent for their salvation. Mutual confession and forgiveness has a wonderful effect in softening the heart, and preparing it for the reception of divine influences; and never had mere man a more exorable and forgiving spirit than Dr. Payson. Of the truth of this last remark, there is the most abundant and satisfactory proof, of which the nature of the case will *Page 389. EDWARD PAYSON. 433 admit. He did not pass through life without encountering injuries, which were aimed at his dearest and tenderest interests; which were wounding to the feelings, and would have exasperated a man less under the influence of a Christian temper than he. Yet not the remotest trace can be found of a vindictive spirit. In this he evidently endeavored to copy his Divine Model throughout;'who, when he was reviled, reviled not again; when he suffered, threatened not; but committed himself to him who judgeth righteously." The writer has been curious to examine his closet-meditations upon the wrongs which were inflicted upon him, and to learn what were his real feelings towards those from whom he suffered maltreatment and abuse. For this purpose, he has directed his attention to the dates of such as occurred within his own knowledge, and with the circumstances of which he was familiarly acquainted. The result is most honorable to the departed minister. Of some no trace can be found; they are buried in forgetfulness. To some there is merely an allusion. Where a notice of them was unavoidable, the fact is mentioned or insinuated; but rarely, indeed, is it accompanied with reproach or censure. The comment usually is, in substance, " Retired, and prayed for him who had done the injury." Such was the only revenge which he sought of the mischievous wag, who awaked him at midnight, with a forged request that he would'visit a woman alleged to be dying. Even those injuries which were aimed at his reputation, and were designed, by affecting his character, to weaken his influence, and obstruct his usefulness, and, therefore, incomparably more grievous than any mere personal wrongs, were treated with no greater severity. Careful as he was to record his own sins and failings, and severely as he condemned them, the instances are few indeed, in which he passes any direct censure upon a fellow creature. Always bold and faithful to rebuke sin, when he met its perpetrator face to face, he was equally tender towards the guilty, in circumstances where severity could do nothing towards reclaiming him. The sins of others he had no wish to perpetuate. He seeks forgiveness for them in private prayer, and spreads over them a mantle broad enough to "ecover a multitude of sins." How deeply learned must he have been in the school of Christ, thus to " love his enemies, to bless them VOL. I. 55 434 MEMOIR OF that cursed him, to do good to them that hated him, and to pray for them who despitefully used and persecuted him!" An abhorrence of sin cannot have failed to strike every reader as a prevailing affection of Dr. Payson's heart. It is apparent at all times and in all circumstances. We see it in the records of the closet, and in his pulpit addresses. It was seen by those who met him in social intercourse, whether for ordinary purposes, or for religious inquiry and conference; and especially by those who heard his confessions and prayers to Him who hath said, " 0, do not that abominable thing which I hate!" It was in its relation to God and his law, that he viewed it, and learned its nature; and not merely from its effects on the wellbeing and happiness of man. The guilt and pollution of sin were, beyond expression, hateful to him. He dreaded its contamination more than death-more than he did the gnawings of the never-dying worm. Hell itself had fewer terrors for him than sin. The latter was his torment and his grief; but how rarely was he troubled with apprehensions of the former f That, he freely acknowledged, he deserved; but it was this, which filled him with distress.. This was the burden of his private lamentations; the foe to God and man which he deprecated, denounced, and abjured in public, and against which his solemn warnings were directed. He abhorred it for its guilt, he loathed it for its degradation, more than he dreaded the misery which it entails. It was the "wormwood and the gall, which his soul had continually in remembrance, and was humbled in him." It was for this that he abhorred himself, repenting in dust and ashes. On account of sin, he daily sorrowed after a godly sort:-and " what carefulness it wrought in him " to watch against its approach; to foresee and resist temptations; to seek strength from above, that he might be preserved from falling; to guard every thought, and word, and act, lest he should prejudice his Maker's cause! or, to express the emotion in his own language, he "seemed to himself to be walking on a hair, and hardly dared to go to his meals, lest he should say or do something that might disgrace the ministry or hurt the cause of religion:"-" what clearing of himself" from all consciousness and all imputations of allowed sin, so as to draw forth the acknowledgment from the most abandoned, that he was a man of EDWARD PAYSON. 435 G Ad, and make it safe for him to lodge the appeal in the consciences of his flock, "Ye are witnesses, and God also, how holily, and justly, and unblamably I have behaved myself among you' -" what indignation " against himself for having ever been rebellious, or for having, after he became a willing subject, failed to glorify God in all things, or forfeited, even for a moment, the approbation of his Master, and the pleasures of a good conscience!-" what fear " of repeating the transgression, preferring rather to die than again offend his God and wound his Redeemer!-" what vehement desire " to be wholly delivered from the power and contamination of sin, his soul going forth in ardent longings after God, or, in his own language, " filled with insatiable desires after holiness!" - c what zeal " in his conflict with this perpetually annoying enemy! How " unfatigued his fervent spirit labored!" With what unsleeping vigilance and skill did he employ the "weapons of the holy war," to dislodge the foe from his own heart and the hearts of others, that the Saviour might be enthroned in them, and sway his sceptre over them! Another precious mark of the genuineness of his religion was his bowing with entire reverence to the supreme authority of divine revelation. This was strikingly apparent from the time when he first knew its value by experience, by his making it his almost exclusive study, as a preparation for preaching, and by his daily devotion to it till his death. He had no favorite dogma, no figment of the imagination, no theoretical speculation or practical views, which he was not ready to discard at once, if they were seen to clash in the least with the Scriptures of truth. These were his chart, his pole-star, his " light shining in a dark place, to which he did well to take heed." He opened them with the docility of a child, and " drank in the sincere milk of the word " with exquisite relish. To him they were C more precious than gold, sweeter than honey, and more highly prized than his necessary food." And in this love and reverence for the Scriptures may be seen the reason, why, constituted as he was, he was never led astray by the pride of opinion, never drawn into ensnaring errors by his salient imagination. Every thought, sentiment, fancy, and opinion was daily corrected by the word of God. It was this steadfast adhereance to his Rule, that kept him in' the good and right way." 436 MEMOIR OF' The last mark of the genuineness of his religion which will be noticed, is his perseverance. Had his fervor of affection abated, and left him in a state of apathy; had he let down his watch, suspended his efforts, and ceased striving to reach " the fulness of the stature of a perfect man in Christ Jesus," this temporary ardor might justly have brought his piety under suspicion, as being nothing better than a species of religious wildfire. But, as it has been well remarked by a late writer, "Where there is no error of imagination-no misjudging of realities no calculations which reason condemns —there is no enthusiasm, even though the soul may be on fire with the velocity of its movement in pursuit of it chosen object." With the velocity with which he had commenced his race, he continued to move, accelerated, too, by the momentum which he had acquired in his progress. His religion was "the water which Christ gives,' and was in him a well of water, springing up into everlasting life." These remarks apply to his performance of particular duties, as well as to his general progress, One of his own precious "gems of thought" will here be introduced to illustrate the principle upon which he acted, and the principle which kept action alive, not in one mode only, but in every method by which man can express affection for the Saviour: - " It has been frequently wished by Christians, that there were some rule laid down in the Bible, fixing the proportion of their property which they ought to contribute to religious uses. This is as if a child should go to his father, and say,' Father, how many times in the day must I come to you with some testimonial of my love? how often will it be necessary to show my. affection for you' The father would, of course reply,' Just as often as your feelings prompt you, my child, and no oftener.' Just so Christ says to his people:' Look at me, and see what I have done and suffered for you, and then give me just what you think I deserve. I do not wish any thing forced.' " Here, unquestionably, is the measure and the obligation of Christian duty, which he endeavored to keep continually in his own eye. He loved much, for much had been forgiven him. He daily looked to Christ, and saw continually increasing rea EDWARD PAYSON. 437 sons for increased love, zeal and duty. His religious emotions were strengthened by constant exercise, and the utterance of them in the presence of his heavenly Father. The constant practice of duty gave him increased ability for duty. He continued his approaches to the throne of grace through all the changes of his afflicted, joyful life. If any man on earth could meet the challenge- - Will he always call upon God?"- that man was Edward Payson. And the "eternal sunshine " which began to settle on his soul before it left the body, is evidence that he was heard and accepted. The grand means, by which he reached his distinguished eminence in piety, and " persevered therein to the end," may be learned from what has already been disclosed. Much more, however, might be revealed respecting the methods which he employed to "bring every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ." Circumstances in themselves trifling often have important influence on the character; and nothing is unworthy of regard, which helps to prevent our hearts from wandering from God, or to recall them when they stray, or to keep alive the sense of our religious obligations. When there are so many allurements and temptations to stray, as this world presents, addressed to hearts so vulnerable and so easily deceived, it is well to have a monitor in every object we behold; to make inanimate things our counsellors; to " Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing;" till all parts of creation become preachers of righteousness. He who can thus habitually associate religious considerations with the "things that are seen," enjoys a rational satisfaction at the same time that he cultivates a spirit of devotion. But those who find it difficult thus to read the book of nature, may derive a useful hint from another practice of Dr. Payson. On the waste leaf of several numbers of his journal are maxims, rules, admonitions, or choice sentiments, which appear to be intended to remind him, every time he should take up the volume to make an entry, of some obligation, or to serve as a stimulus to duty in some one of his important relations. The value of such mementos is incalculable, and within the reach of all. It may be useful to transcribe a specimen: 438 MEMOIR OF " Rutherford remarks, -' I have set apart some time, morning, noon, and night, for prayer, reading the Scriptures, meditation, &c.:'I have endeavored to mingle thoughts on serious subjects with other employments:' To watch against wandering thoughts in secret prayer:' Never to murmur that I did not enjoy sensible comfort in prayer:'To spend the whole of the Lord's day in public and private devotion:' To avoid all idle words, and thoughts, and sudden passion:'Especially to avoid sinning against light in the most trivial affair, as nothing has a more powerful tendency to harden the heart.' " " An eminent saint, now in heaven, remarked as follows: —'Now, at the close of life, my conscience reproaches me, for not doing every thing, however small, with a view to the divine glory:'That I have not been more carefil to spend time profitably in company:'That I have not been affected with the distresses of others:'That I have not been duly humbled for the sins of my youth.' "If the end of one mercy were not the beginning of another, we were undone." The following, from Flavel and Baxter, were for his consideration as a minister:" Jesus was a tender-hearted minister, a faithful minister, a laborious, painfil minister, a minister who delighted in the success of his ministry, a minister who lived up to his doctrine, a minister who maintained communion with God." " I have long observed, that though ministers use words and arguments ever so persuasive and convincing, yet, if they think all their care is over as soon as the sermon is delivered, pretending they have done their duty, and that the event is God's, they EDWARD PAYSON. 439 seldom prosper in their labors; but those whose heart is set on the success of their work, who earnestly inquire how it speeds, and who follow up their public labors with prayer and private exhortation, are usually blessed and owned in their work." He had still another class of maxims, which show his conscientious regard to " whatsoever things are lovely and of good report." The preceding pages contain a tolerably complete-perhaps too complete-exhibition of Dr. Payson's religious character. It has been found a very serious and difficult question, how far it is justifiable to submit to the inspection of good and bad, indiscriminately, the records of one's private exercises, which were not intended to be seen out of the closet. As religion is so much the business of the closet, it is obvious, that no man's religious character can be fully developed, without exhibiting the transactions of that sacred retreat. Disclosures of this class have been highly prized by the Christian community generally; and God himself seems to have set the seal of his approbation upon them, by rendering them the frequent occasion of exciting and cherishing religious affections. These considerations have done much to quiet the misgivings, which were occasionally felt on exposing, as it were, to the public gaze, the recesses of a heart so deeply and variously affected as was that of the subject of this Memoir. It is hoped, however, that there is no wanton exposure. The author's first care has been to give an honest, faithful history; and he is not aware that any deductions or abatements from the commendatory part need to be made on the ground of personal friendship or partiality, or that any lack of censure needs to be supplied for similar reasons. Rather has he feared that his anxiety to copy scriptural models, which describe the faults of good men with the same unshrinking fidelity that they embalm their virtues, may have led him to throw too much of shade into the picture, to dwell at disproportionate length on those points which cannot be contemplated without sadness. The several parts of the work, however, will be found, notwithstanding their apparently miscellaneous character, to have an intimate relation to the whole, and to, reciprocally, modify and explain each other. 440 MEMOIR OF The query will perhaps arise, Why, if Dr. Payson intended his diary should never be read, did he not destroy it previous to his death? His procedure in regard to his manuscript sermons suggests a possible reason. It was for a long time his settled purpose never to allow one to be published; and, after it became certain that he could no longer use them in public, he actually set about their immolation. They'were reprieved from tile flames, for a season, at the almost forcible interposition of his family. As the time of his departure approached, the glories of heaven and the value of the soul appeared so transcendent, that he became wholly indifferent to literary reputation and worldly fame, and gave his consent to the publication of a portion of his discourses, if it should be thought expedient, or would be beneficial to men. He was now perfectly willing to become " a fool for Christ's sake." A similar change might have taken place in regard to the diary; though it is more probable that he expected it would never be read. The key he had imparted to no one; and, though he was aware that it had been partially discovered-for occasionally, but unconsciously to himself, a word in his alphabet found its way into his friendly epistles, and its import was determined by the connexion, and then the sounds or letters, which the characters represented, were easily ascertained; yet he probably thought no one would have the curiosity or patience to try it throughout, especially as his manner of applying it is not the same in every volume. It may be regarded as an inexcusable omission not to glance at his intellectual qualities, in connexion with the great purposes for which he employed them. This may be done by introducing an extract, addressed to his church and congregation at the installation of his successor, the Rev. Dr. Tyler, by President Allen:-' His vigorous intellect could grasp high subjects. Nor was his knowledge limited to one department. It had a wide range, as his curiosity was insatiable, and his acquisitions made with the utmost rapidity. But from all the fields of science he brought illustrations of the great principles of religion, which it was his business and delight to communicate to his fellow men. "Among the valuable qualities, with which it pleased the great Author of his mind to endow him, fancy or imagination EDWARD PAYSON. 441 was very conspicuous, and very important. This essence of the poet belonged to him in a high degree. If there are, among preachers of the gospel, men of strong intellect and close argument, who reason with great force, without deriving any aid from the imaginative faculty; yet such was not the characteristic of his preaching. Nor am I persuaded that the highest powers of reasoning on moral subjects can be separated from the resources of a well-stored fancy. In mathematical reasoning which is founded wholly on definitions, or a few expressed conceptions or notions, the process is indeed to be carried on; as the smith makes a chain, by adding link to link. The argument is uniform, and of one material. There is no place for illustrations; no opportunity for the colorings of fancy. "But if we reason on moral subjects, the case is very different. We do not set out with clear, unquestioned definitions, and adequate notions. Our very conceptions of spiritual truths must be aided by means of the objects presented to our senses. The imagination must assist the intellect. Without this imaginative faculty, this power of comparing different objects, of perceiving the analogies of the universe, I do not know how we can form the best notions of the divine attributes; and sure I am, that without this faculty we are ill qualified to be teachers of others, and must be very deficient in the power of rousing the sluggish attention, of aiding the efforts of the weak intellect, of irradiating the cloudy conception, and of strengthening the vision for the view of the distant and the obscure. Our Master and Teacher, the great Author and Finisher of our faith, very frequently illustrated spiritual things by means of material objects, and has shown us how to make Nature, as she should be, the handmaid of Religion. Dr. Payson, from the ample storehouse of his fancy, often brought forth images and symbols, enabling him to exhibit clearly his conceptions, which might otherwise have been unintelligible, and to transport his hearers, as it were, in spite of themselves, to the deep and never-opened prison, where is weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, -and also to the bright, and pure, and all-glorious presence of God, and to the immediate glance of that all-piercing eye, from which iniquity shrinketh away in terror and horror. "Other elements are yet to be considered in estimating his power as a preacher. It was not merely that his mind was acVOL. I. 56 442 M E MIR F tive and strong, and that he could scatter the radiance of an unequalled fancy over the abstrusest conceptions, and mingle delight with instruction. In addition to this, his power as a preacher was the power of his own deep-seated conviction of the infinite importance of the truths which he communicated, and of the realities of the invisible world, which he described; -the power of ardent, unquestioned piety. "His eloquence was very different from studied oratory, there was no elegance of gesture, and no display. Yet the deep tones of his voice, uttering tremendous warnings, were calculated to startle the secure, while the blessed promises of the gospel came from his lips in the mild and gladdening accents of one whose soul rejoiced in God his Saviour." Scarcely an individual has ever been heard to speak of Dr. Payson's intellectual qualities, who did not fix upon imagination as the predominant characteristic in the structure of his mind; and it is often referred to as a simple faculty, involving the exercise of no other powers. A distinct and lively perception of truths and objects, a power of comparison, abstraction, and combination, are essential constituents of this faculty, as it exists in the poet; and such was it in him. If he had devoted himself to the Muses, he might have taken a high rank among the "sons of s6ng." As it was, the inspiration of poetry pervades his moral and religious discussions, and in a manner altogether as agreeable, and far more useful, than if it were presented in measured lines. His imagination was under the control of judgment, and entirely subservient to the objects he had in view. It was never employed to excite wonder, but always to convey instruction. Its boldest flights disclose a very exact and delicate perception of the relations of different subjects; and his selection of the circumstances for comparison, a most discriminating judgment.* Of all the ten thousand illustrations of moral and reli- His dreaming imaginations were, sometimes at least, as regular and instructive as those which were formed in obedience to the will: — "Once I dreamed of being transported to heaven, and, being surprised to find myself so calm and tranquil in the midst of my happiness, inquired the cause. The reply was —When you were on earth, you resembled a bottle but partly filled with water, which was agitated by the least motion; now you are like the same bottle filled to the brim, which cannot be disturbed." EDWARD PAYSON. 443 gious truths, with which this faculty supplied him, scarcely one failed of being a type,-I had almost said, a perfect type or representation of the idea or impression which he wished to convey. It brought full satisfaction to the mind of the hearer. He felt that he knew what was thus taught him. Some have supposed, that he employed analogies and the creations of fancy as the means of investigating truth; that is -if I understand their meaning —that, supposing " truth to lie in a well," his imagination fitted up a sort of machinery to draw it out. But this is a mistake: he had, like others, to dive or dig for it. He had early imbibed the maxim, " There is no royal road to knowledge;" and felt its application to theology, as well as to "geometry." His acquisitions were made by close and prayerftil investigation. Too much has been ascribed to his genius, and too little to his industry. His native talents were indeed of a high order, but they were strengthened by cultivation and exercise. His ardor in the pursuit of knowledge never abated; his acquisitions were constantly accumulating. It was by continually extending his acquaintance with God's world, and the creatures who inhabit it, that he procured the materials with which imagination might work. The conclusions to which he was conducted by his own investigations, the conceptions which existed in his own mind, he did often communicate to others by analogies, similitudes, and imagined cases; and this, it is conceived, is their legitimate use. He had a high relish for literary pursuits, and greatly enjoyed the society of literary men. And it will be regarded by those who are able to appreciate it, as one of the most remarkable instances of his self-denial, that he could abandon a pleasure of ~which he was so highly susceptible, in order the more effectually to promote the salvation of his species. It may well be spoken of as an abandonment;- for when he gave himself up to the ministry, he ceased to cultivate classical literature for the sake of fame, or for his own individual gratification merely. He could not indulge himself, and consume his time, in refined intellectual luxuries, when souls were perishing around him. There were subjects of real and acknowledged utility —subjects of deep and everlasting interest-pursuits immediately connected with the immortal destinies of men, sufficient to employ his time, and task his best powers. To learning of doubtful utility, 444 MEMOIR OF and rare application, whether recondite or elegant, he paid little attention. He estimated the probable permanent advantages to be expected from different pursuits, by the balances of the sanctuary, and resolutely forsook those, however consonant to his inclinations, "where the gains will not pay for the candle, and where the philosopher and the scholar threaten to swallow up the divine. " Yet, in the legitimate sense of the term., he was a philosopher, In the philosophy of that department, in which he shone preeminently, he had the start of the age. He anticipated the substantial improvements in the manner of conducting theological researches, which our theological seminaries have done so much to introduce and extend. His discernment, judgment and good sense are strikingly apparent in the course which he pursued. to prepare himself for the pulpit. Theology he regarded as a divine science; and he sought it through the medium of that divine revelation, which has been communicated to the world, and not in human speculations. He studied to ascertain those boundaries, which separate what may be known by man, fiom that which must forever elude his research,- unless the light of eternity shall reveal it, —and he never overstepped them. He stopped at ultimate facts, and never'"intruded into those things which are not convenient," and of which the sage knows as little as the child. Those whom he was endeavoring to guide to heaven, he also strove to keep within the same limits; teaching them that "secret things belong to the Lord, but the things that are revealed, to them and their children." And among the "things that are revealed," he distinguished between those which are capable of receiving elucidation from human discussion, and those that mock all human explanation, and with respect to which the very attempt would be "darkening counsel by words without knowledge." Tlhere was no doctrine found in the Bible, which he hesitated to assert and defend; but he guarded against resting in it as a mere speculation,-against "holding the truth in unrighteousness." His great aim was to make every scriptural theme bear with force upon the conscience,-to have every doctrine excite its correspondent emotion, and every precept its obligation. If his success is not an adequate recommendation of his practice, the experience of the church, in past ages, holds EDWARD PAYSON. 445 out an affecting warning of the evils of a contrary course. "Christianity," says a recent writer, "has, in some short periods of its history, been entirely dissociated from philosophical modes of thought and expression; and assuredly it has prospered in such periods. At other times, it has scarcely been seen at all, except in the garb of metaphysical discussion, and then it has lost all its vigor and glory." It has been supposed by some, that there must have been a deplorable leanness in his discourses, as it respects the essential and peculiar doctrines of the gospel. This suspicion may never have prevailed extensively, and it is not certainly known on what it is founded. It may have arisen from the fact that such multitudes flocked to hear him, in connexion with another fact, viz., the sinful opposition of the human heart to the humbling doctrines of the cross. In regard to some, it may have arisen from the fact, that he reasoned without the parade of reasoning; that he argued without reducing his arguments to the dry bones of a syllogism; that he was not accustomed to assume a bold and startling position, and then declare, in due form, how he was going to prove it. It may have arisen from the fact, that he always preached so as to be understood, and left no room for the inference, that he must be a deep man because his meaning could not be apprehended. But whether the suspicion be owing to any or none of these causes, it is doubted whether it has any better foundation to rest upon. He did not " walk in craftiness, nor handle the word of God deceitfully." He could have concealed nothing from design, which it was obligatory on him to declare; for this would be contrary to his whole character. Friends and foes alike gave him credit for honesty and plain dealing. It could not be for want of courage; for he feared not the face of flesh; and some of the practical discourses which he delivered, it required tenfold more of moral heroism to pronounce, than it would the most offensive doctrines. Sinners might sit and hear the doctrines of election and reprobation defended, and not feel half the opposition of heart, which would be drawn forth by Dr. Payson's practical sermons, particularly such a sermon as that in which fraud is exposed and condemned; and other evil practices did not receive a whit more indulgence from him. Others, again, who were at a loss to account, on satisfactory 446 M E MO IR OI principles, for the attraction which drew and bound so many to him, have ascribed his influence to different causes; as, an artful and impassioned oratory, a talent for amusing all audience, and even to rant! No flattering compliment, to be sure, to his hearers; but it should be stated, by way of apology for these surmises, that their authors lived at a distance, and did not know him. A little knowledge of human nature might have been sufficient to correct such an error. No man, by such means, could have sustained a growing reputation, in the same place, for a period of twenty years, receiving continual accessions to his flock, which included a fair proportion of professional characters, and men of cultivated minds. There was, it is true, always something in his discourses to delight the mind. even when his language was the vehicle of unwelcome truths; but he never uttered any thing from the pulpit with the view to amuse. Never did he "Court a grin, when he should woo a soul." There was nothing of stage effect either in Dr. Payson's personal appearance or in his eloquence-no imposing attitudes or gestures-no extremes of intonation-no affectation of tears. It was simple nature, sanctified by grace, uttering the deep convictions of the heart, and pleading with fellow sinners to become reconciled to God. It was the eloquence of truth spoken in love. The words seemed to come from his mouth encompassed by that glowing atmosphere in which they left the heart, and to brand their very impression in every heart on which they fell. On account of the rapid increase of his church, some have imagined that he must have admitted persons of dubious piety. A venerable minister in another state once sent him a message -and by a member of his church too —"not to make Christians too fast." To say nothing of the brotherly kindness of such an insinuation, conveyed by such a messenger, it may be doubted whether that good man's successor did not find as much " wood, hay, and stubble," in the superstructure of his own erecting-as much at least in proportion to its dimensions-as did Dr. Payson's. And yet he was a man of known and acknowledged fidelity. What church does not receive and retain ED WA R D PAYSON. 447 hypocrites If such characters found their way into Dr. Payson's church, his skirts are clear of their blood; he aimed to do his duty faithfully, and no minister was ever more attentive to church discipline. Facts, which have appeared so wonderful, and have been accounted for in so many conjectural ways, will not, perhaps, appear surprising, when his private devotions and public labors become more extensively known. Perhaps it will be felt, that the means which he employed, and which God blessed, bore as full a proportion to their results as in other ordinary cases. It has been supposed, too, that his person and peculiar mental characteristics were the bond of union, which kept his church and parish together, and that when he should be removed, the massive body would fall to pieces. This expectation has shared the same fate as many predictions of which Dr. Payson or his people were the subject. During the whole trying period in which they were without a pastor, their integrity was almost unexampled. Not a single defection took place; proving that it was not his person only, but the influence of his doctrines, which united them as one. The truth is, no man ever gained a reputation as a preacher more fairly than Dr. Payson; few men ever earned —if the expression is allowable-more success. We have no need to call in the aid of magic, to account for the amazing influence which he exerted as a minister of Christ. This is best done by the simple history of the man-by a familiar acquaintance with what he was, and what he did. The foundation of his eminence, and of his influence, was laid in a deep, experimental knowledge of those spiritual subjects which constituted the themes of his addresses to his fellow-men. This quality of a religious teacher has been well presented, and its influence illustrated, by a reviewer of his sermons in the Christian Spectator. Speaking of Dr. Payson, he remarks:" Like the beloved apostle, whom he somewhat resembled in the strength of his imagination, and in the affections of his heart, he speaks as if from actual observation. In perusing these sermons, it seems as if their author had actually seen with his own eyes the spiritual objects he describes, —that he had actually heard from Christ, talking with him face to face, the 448 MEMOIR OF truths which he declares. The man who has thus seen spiritual objects with the clear eye of faith, is acquainted with them in their minutest parts, and can therefore communicate instruction respecting them with a familiarity, clearness, and impressive interest, which'we in vain look for in any other. He not only can present a general outline, but he cal filli up the picture with what his own eyes have seen. When he mentions faith and repentance, he speaks as one who has looked upon the very objects towards which these graces are directed; and he is therefore able to make others see the same objects likewise, and to feel as he has himself felt towards them. When he speaks of God, he speaks as if he had walked with him, and knew him intimately. When he describes the character of Christ, he describes it as if he had followed him closely, and knew exactly how he walked. Hle speaks of the Holy Ghost, as if he had felt his power upon his own soul, in his convincing and sanctifying influences. He speaks of hell, as if he himself had looked with agonizing fears through all its gloomy caverns. He speaks of heaven, as if he had, like Paul, been transported to the third heavens, and heard unspeakable words. There are many passages in his sermons, in which his vision of heaven seems to be nearly as distinct as that which he enjoyed just before his death, as described in a letter to his sister. * * -5 -,5 -5 - " The man who has had such visions of heaven, will speak of eternal realities with a truth that others will strive in vain to imitate; and he will be listened to with the same deep feeling which the words of one would create, who had actually risen from the grave, and come back to his brethren of the human family, to give them an account of the secrets of the invisible world." His topics embraced the whole range of scriptural subjects. He had no hackneyed theme, no wearisome monotonousness of manner in treating it. Those subjects, for the recurrence of which there was the most frequent occasion-such, for instance, as relate to the Saviour's death, which was commemorated monthly by his church -never lost any of their interest under his treatment; but were made to awaken a new train of thought and reflection, or were presented in some new relation. Christ EDWARD PAYSON. 449 crucified was, indeed, an exhaustless theme. It was the "life of all his preaching. He every where gives most exalted views of Christ, beholding and declaring him as'God manifested in the flesh,' and invested with all the prerogatives and glories of Mediatorship. He sought continually to bring Christ before the eyes of sinners, for whom he had suffered, bled, and died. Christ was the sun of his system; he referred every thing to him, and showed all truth, duty, hope, privilege, and happiness, as related to him. In a word, as Christ was every thing to his feelings, as a humble truster in his mercy, so he was every thing in the instructions which he imparted, as his minister. He had none of that affected scrupulousness of an erroneous conscience, which professes to shrink from giving to Christ'the glory due unto his name.' Him, as'without controversy' the'brightness of the Father's glory, the express image of his person,' and who is'over all, God, blessed for ever,' he loved to worship, honor, preach, and show to dying men, as the'confidence of all the ends of the earth.' "' Dr. Payson was a preacher whom none could hear with indifference. His discrimination of characters, and adaptation of truth to the different classes of hearers; his skill in guiding the sword of the Spirit so as to pierce the consciences of the impenitent, rendered it impossible for them to hear him unmoved. " He showed an intimacy in the secret chambers of the human heart, such as is gained only by much self-acquaintance, and accurate observation of men; analyzed the operations of the unsanctified will and affections with peculiar skill; told the sinner, with startling particularity, of things that passed in his breast: followed him into his hiding places, to allure and warn him away; stated, with unshrinking faithfulness, humbling facts respecting his motives of action; described his errors and self-deceptions with a fairness and exactness which could not easily be disputed; showed the hazards of his unscriptural dependences; and, in the full blaze of Scripture light, set forth all the dangers and guilt of self-delusion."@ If they went away from the sanctuary " filled with wrath," and determined to heal him no more, the resolution was but a thread of tow amidsl the fires of conscience. * Spirit of the Pilgrims. VOL.. 57 450 MEMOIR OF " The preaching of Dr. Payson was well adapted to' feed the church of God, and to promote the advancement of Christians in the divine life. With him this was an object of more than common thought and labor. Bunyan's character of Great Heart exhibits the qualifications of the spiritual Shepherd in an interesting manner, and many of the features of it were discernible in the discourses of Dr. Payson. To elevate and enliven the faith of Christians, to increase the fervor of their love, to assist them to obtain and keep lowly views of themselves, to promote the tenderness of godly sorrow, and likewise to animate their joys, confirm their hopes, promote the increase and steadiness of their comforts, and to incite them to press forward and mount upward in their preparation for heaven, were the objects of much of his preaching. He sought to promote in Christians the progress and enjoyments of holiness in heart and life. He loved to witness Christian activity and faithfulness, and preached a religion to be lived, and which would make its possessors to shine as lights in the world. He had his heart fixed on the promotion, in himself and others, of holiness, elevated, dwelling in daily communion with God, and made active in view of the cross of Christ, of the judgment to come, and of the prospect of heaven. And his conceptions of the obligations resting on the people of God to live in the exercise of such holiness, were vivid and solemn. The views he was accustomed to give of Christian character were not of that well adjusted'form of godliness,' in which' a name to live' may be preserved; but he exhibited the Christian of the Bible, loving holiness and seeking it, hating sin and flying from it; he brought out the elements of grace, as to be manifested in living and active faithfulness." He was distinguished for his " entire devotedness to the spiritual welfare of his hearers. He might have had a practical acquaintance with the truths of the Christian religion, and skill in selecting those truths that are adapted to the character of his hearers, and a powerful imagination in presenting those truths in such a manner as to make an impression; still, without this devotedness of feeling to the spiritual welfare of his hearers, he never could have exerted that moral power upon their minds, * Spirit of the Pilgrims. EDWARD PAYSON. 451 which attended his ministrations. It has ever been true, that those who have distinguished themselves on the broad theatre of human exertion, in arts, in arms, in science, and in moral enterprise, have likewise been distinguished for the enthusiasm with which they have followed the object of their pursuit. Such a state of mind quickens the intellect; for it has almost passed into a maxim with the masters of mental science, that the conceptions are vivid in proportion to the excitement of the feelings. It moreover renders the mind ingenious in discovering and creating means for the accomplishment of the object;'Love will find a way;' and it likewise prompts to perseverance in the application of these means. His sermons were prepared under the influence of an intense desire to be instrumental in leading his people to the cross of Christ for salvation. To accomplish this, all the faculties of his soul were concentrated; when he knelt at the mercy-seat, his people were earnestly commended to God; when he looked abroad on nature, that other book of God's revelation, he was always in search of motives to duty; when he was engaged in severe study, or in reading books of taste, he was still aiming, either directly or indirectly, at promoting the spiritual welfare of his people, that'by any means he might win some.' Every thing was subservient to this object. Having a full heart and a full mind, persuasion dwelt upon his lips. He felt emotion, and therefore expressed it. His heart is always awake. His zeal for the house of God glowed in his breast like a consuming passion; it wasted the powers of life." * That his mode of exhibiting the truths of the gospel was pre-eminently felicitous, we have one very pleasing proof in the tenacity with which his instructions are remembered. t This testimony to the completeness of his qualifications, as" a workman that needed not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth," still exists in hundreds of hearts. "His words * Christian Spectator. f The editor of his posthumous sermons, during the progress of the volume, in answering inquiries respecting them, was frequently interrupted with -" I hope such a sermon will be one"- the subject being named at the same time. This wish was heard, not from the inhabitants of Portland only, but from others, who had changed this residence for another, from five to fifteen years before. 452 ME MOIR OF were as nails fastened in a sure place, leaving stings in the mind, and bidding defiance even to a bad memory to forget." A specimen of his pulpit discourses is before the public, and will speak their own defence. That they want much, which gave them interest and effect in the delivery, is known by all who knew him. A ministering brother, at a distance, after he had read the volume, thus wrote-" That speaking eye, and thrilling tone, and those flashes of holy fire, and that countenance, which at times seemed more than mortal, I do not indeed find. Probably most of those glowing illustrations and irresistible appeals were made, even when he had a written discourse before him, from the inspiration of the moment. Still there is so much of the original in these pieces, that the lineaments of his celestial soul can be easily traced. His eloquence was, in the language of Milton, "the serious and hearty love of truth; his mind fully possessed with a fervent desire to know good things, and with the dearest charity to infuse the knoxvledge of them into others. When such a man would speak, his words, like so many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him at command, and in well-ordered files, as he would wish, fall aptly into their own places." The amount of service which he was enabled to perform is not the least surprising fact in his history. Almost continually sinking under the exhausting effects of a diseased and debilitated frame, he was, nevertheless, " in labors more abundant" than most who have no such infirmities to depress them. That he ventured beyond his strength, and often exceeded the bounds of prudence and duty, is very true; but it was, on the whole, a wise and happy arrangement of Providence, which assigned him his station where the calls to exertion were frequent and urgent. The regret which it is impossible not to feel at his premature departure, hastened as it was by his incessant toils, mental and bodily, in his Master's cause, is alleviated by the reflection, that, with his constitution and susceptibilities, a moderate degree of exertion was incompatible. Beyond all doubt, his life, if passed in a state of comparative inaction, would have much sooner terminated: his sun might have set in darkness, and the remembrance of him perished from the earth. But God had "provided better things for him," and his memory is blessed. That he had preached the gospel fully and faithfully, not EDWARD PAYSON. 453 shunning to declare the whole counsel of God, he had the testimony of his conscience, in the near prospect of the last tribunal. To repeated interrogatories in relation to this point, his answers were full and unequivocal. The religion which he preached and exemplified in life sustained him in the hour when flesh and heart failed, and shed unclouded light on his passage to the unseen world. And shall we say —we here borrow the language employed by a valued brother on occasion of his death —" Shall we say that all this was delusion, and an unsubstantial vision? Shall we imagine that this most active mind is now extinct? that this servant and friend of Jesus Christ is annihilated, is lost? Has the tempest stolen him away? Long tossed on the billows, has he been swallowed up by the deep? Oh, no! But, as God is true, we believe he has entered a secure haven, where the storm is not heard, -where the agitation of the elements is not felt, -where no wave of trouble ever breaks upon the peaceful shore-where not a ripple disturbs the deep serenity, which reflects to the astonished eye the beauty, and brightness, and majesty of the skies." "CBEHOLD THY MOTHER." THE scene at the death-bed of Dr. Payson, described on page 424, has been happily expanded in the following beautifil lines, from the chaste and fruitful pen of Mrs. Sigourney. The eldest son, in this case, is not the eldest child; but who can regret an innocent mistake, which has furnished the occasion of so much tenderness and beauty? WHAT SAID THE EYE? —The marble lip spake not, Save in that quivering sob with which stern Death Doth crush life's harp-strings. Lo! again it pours A tide of more than utter'd eloquence - " Son! - look upon thy mother!" - and retires Beneath the curtain of the drooping lids, To hide itself forever.'Tis the last, Last glance! -and mark how tenderly it fell Upon that lov'd companion, and the groups That wept around. Full well the dying knew The value of those holy charities Which purge the dross of selfishness away; 454 MEMOIR OF And deep he felt that woman's trusting heart Rent from the cherish'd prop, which, next to Christ, Had been her stay in all adversities, Would take the balm-cup best from that dear hand Which woke the sources of maternal love, - That smile, whose winning paid for sleepless nights Of cradle-care, -that voice, whose murmured tones Her own had moulded to the words of prayer. - How soothing to a widow'd mother's breast Her first-born's sympathy! Be strong, young man!Lift the protector's arm, - the healer's prayer!Be tender in thy every word and deed. A spirit watcheth thee! Yes, he who pass'd From shaded earth up to the full-orb'd day, Will be thy witness in the court of heaven How thou dost bear his mantle. So farewell, Leader in Israel! Thou whose radiant path Was like the angel's standing in the sun, * Undazzled and unswerving, -it was meet That thou shouldst rise to light without a cloud. Revelation, xix. 17. SELECTIONS FROM THE CONVERSATIONS AND UNPUBLISHED WRITINGS OF REV. EDWARD PAYSON, D. D. Remember the words that I spake unto you, while I was yet present with you.- Memoir, p. 424. PREFACE. SOON after the publication of my father's Melnoir, the design was formed of preparing a small volume of selections from his remembered conversations. addresses at private meetings, Bible classes, etc. As the materials which could be collected in this way proved entirely insufficient, it was thought best to complete the work, as nearly as possible in conformity with the original design, by making extracts from his unpublished discourses; and this has accordingly been done. In regard to those portions which were written from memory, it is not presumed that the precise language employed has, in any instance, been preserved. There has been an endeavor to secure variety in the selections, which are arranged with reference to the progress of a mind, from impenitence and unbelief, through the different stages of conviction, to faith and confirmed hope. None of the extracts have before appeared in print. They are given to the public in the earnest hope, that they may be instrumental in accomplishing the wish so often expressed by their author, that he might "be permitted to do good with his pen, when his tongue should be silent in death." L. S. P. SELECT I HOUGETS G D Do How much this title implies, no tongue, human or angelic, can ever express; no mind conceive. It is a volume of an infinite number of leaves, and every leaf full of meaning. It will be read by saints and angels, through the ages of eternity, but they will never reach the last leaf, nor fully comprehend the meaning of a single page. Look back to the time when God existed independent and alone; when there was nothing but God; no heavens, no earth, no angels, no men. How wretched should we, how wretched would any creature be, in such a situation! But Jehovah was then infinitely happy-happy beyond all possibility of increase. He is an overflowing fountain, a bottorness and shoreless ocean, of being, perfection, and happiness; and when this infinite ocean overflows, suns and worlds, angels and n en, start into existence. I would ask you to pause and contempi te, for a moment, this wonderful Being. But where shall we stand to take a view of him? When we wish to contemplate the ocean, we take our stand upon its shore. But this infinite ocean of being and perfection has no shore. There is no place where we can stand to look at him, for he is in us, around us, above us, below us. Yet, in another sense, there is no place where we may not look at him, for he is every where. We see nothing which he has not made, no motion which he does not cause; for he is all, and in all, and above all, God over all, blessed forever. Even he him 460 LOVE OF GOD. selt cannot tell us fully what he is, for our minds cannot take it in. He can only say to us, I am that I am. I am Jehovah, ETERNITY OF GOD. Try, for a moment, to conceive of a Being without a beginning; a Being who does not become older as ages roll away. Fly back, in imagination, millions of millions of millions of years, till reason is confounded, and fancy wearied in the flight. God then existed, and, what may at first appear paradoxical, he had then existed as long as he has now; you would then be no nearer the beginning of his existence than you are now, for it has no beginning, and you cannot approach to that which does not exist. Nor will his being ever come to an end. Add together ages of ages; multiply them by the leaves on the trees, the sand on the sea-shore, and the dust of the earth, still you will be no nearer the termination of Jehovah's existence, than when you first began your calculation. And let us remember that the duration of his existence is the only measure of our own. As it respects futurity, we are all as immortal as Jehovah himself. LOVE OF GOD. In the words, " God is love," we have a perfect portrait of the eternal and incomprehensible Jehovah, drawn by his own unerring hand. The mode of expression here adopted, differs materially from that usually employed by the inspired writers, in speaking of the divine perfections. They say, God is mercifll, God is just, God is holy; butt never do they say, God is mercy, God is justice, God is holiness. In this instance, on the contrary, the apostle, instead of saying, God is loving, or good, or kind, says, God is love, love itself. By this expression we must understand that God is all pure, unmixed love, and that the other moral perfections of his character are only so many modifications of this love. Thus his justice, his mercy, his truth, his faithfulness, are but so many different names of his love or goodness. As the light which proceeds from the sun may easily be separated into many different colors, so the holy love of God, which is the light and glory of his nature, may be separated into a variety of moral attributes and perfections. But, though separated, they are still love. His whole nature and essence LIVING TO GOD. 461 are love; his will, his works, and his words, are love; he is nothing, can do nothing but love. WISDOM OF GOD. Often when the church thinks itself in the most imminent danger, when its friends are ready to cry in despair, All these things are against us, our destruction is inevitable; angels are lost in wonder in view of the means which divine wisdom is, even then, employing to effect its deliverance and turn its despondency into triumph. For some thousands of years they have been contemplating this spectacle; their knowledge and their admiration of God's wisdom have been continually increasing, and yet every day they learn something new, every day they see new proofs that Jehovah is indeed the all-wise God; that his resources are inexhaustible; that he can never be at a loss; and that he can effect the same object in numberless different ways, and by the use of the most improbable means. DUTY OF LIVING T THE GLORY OF GOD. We were created and redeemed for the sole purpose of praising and glorifying our Creator; and if we refuse or neglect to do this, we transgress the great law of creation, frustrate the end of existence, leave unperformed the work for which we were made, and do all in our power to prove that we were created in vain, and to cause God to repent of having made us. Should the sun refuse to shine; should the showers refuse to descend; should the earth refuse to bring forth food; or should trees in a fruitful soil continue barren-would you not say that it was contrary to nature and to the design of their creation; and that since they no longer fulfilled this design, they might properly be reduced to nothing again? And do you not see that while you refuse to praise God, your conduct is equally unnatural, and that you may justly be made the monuments of his everlasting displeasure? What would only be unnatural in inanimate creatures, is the height of folly and wickedness in us; because we are capable of knowing our duty, and are under innumerable obligations to practise it. Let the sun then refuse to shine, the showers to descend, and the earth to be fruitful; but let not rational creatures refuse to praise their Creator, since it is the purp)ose for which they were created. 462 REVERENCE FOR GOD. HOW CAN CREATURES GLORIFY GOD'I If it be asked how creatures so feeble and ungrateful as we are, can glorify God, I answer, by conducting in such a manner as naturally tends to make him appear glorious, amiable and excellent in the view of his creatures. A son, for instance, honors his parents, when he evidently loves, reverences, confides in, and obeys them; because such conduct tends to make those who know him think favorably of his parents. A subject honors his sovereign when he cheerfully submits to his authority, and appears to be contented and happy in his government; because this tends to give others a favorable opinion of his sovereign. So men honor and glorify God, when they show by their conduct that they consider him the most perfect and best of beings, and love, reverence and confide in him as such; for these things naturally tend to excite a high estimation of God, in the minds of their fellow creatures. REVERENCE FOR GOD. With what profound veneration does it become us to enter the presence, and to receive the favors of the awful Majesty of heaven and earth! And how ought we to dread grieving or offending goodness so great, so glorious, so venerable! To illustrate this remark, suppose that the sun, whose brightness, even at this distance, you cannot gaze upon without shrinking, were an animated, intelligent body; and that, with a design to do you good, he should leave his place in the heavens, and gradually approach you. As he drew more and more near, his apparent magnitude and effulgence would every moment increase; he would occupy a larger and larger portion of the visible heavens, until at length all other objects would be lost, and yourselves swallowed up in one insufferably dazzling, overpowering flood of light. Would you not, in such circumstances, feel the strongest emotions of awe, of something like fear? Would a knowledge that the glorious luminary was approaching with a benevolent design for your good, banish these emotions'? What, then, ought to be the feelings of a sinful worm of the dust, when the Father of lights, the eternal Sun of the universe, who dwells in the high and holy place, and in the contrite heart, stoops from his awful throne, to visit him, to smile upon him, DUTY OF LOVING GOD. 463 to pardon him, to purify him from his moral defilement, to adopt him as a child, to make him an heir of heaven, to take possession of his heart as his earthly habitation? DUTY OF LOVING GOD. We ought to love God because he has given us the power to love. He might have formed us gloomy, morose, misanthropic beings, destitute of all the social affections; without the power of loving any object, and strangers to the happiness of being beloved. Should God withdraw into himself, not only all the amiable qualities which excite love, but the very power of loving, would vanish from the world, and we should not only, like the evil spirits, become perfectly hateful, but should, like them, hate one another. Every object which can be presented to us has a claim on our affections corresponding to its character. If any object be admirable, it possesses a natural and inherent claim to our admiration; if it be venerable, it has a claim to our'reverence; if it be terrible, it demands our fear; if it be beautiful and amiable, it claims and deserves our love. But God is perfectly and infinitely lovely; nay, he is excellence and loveliness itself. If you doubt this, ask those who can tell you. Ask Christ, who is in the bosom of the Father, and he will tell you that God is infinitely lovely. Ask the holy angels, who dwell in his immediate presence, and they will tell you that he is lovely beyond all that even angelic minds can conceive. Ask good men in all ages, and they will lament that they cannot tell you how amiable and excellent Jehovah is. Ask every thing beautiful and amiable in the universe, and it will tell you that all its beauty is but a faint reflection of his. If all this does not satisfy you, ask the spirits of disobedience; and they, though filled with malice and rage against him, will tell, if you can constrain them to speak, that the Being they hate is lovely, and that it constitutes the essence of their misery that they can find no blemish in his character. But if God be thus infinitely lovely, we are under infinite obligations to love him; obligations from which he himself cannot release us but by altering his character, and teasing to be lovely. 464 E EELLENCE OF GOD. FOLLY OF PRE.FERRING CREATURES TO GOD. Would you not cc.sider a person foolish and absurd, who should extravagantly love and prize a drop of stagnant water, and yet view the ocean with indifference or disgust? or who should constantly grovel in the dust to admire a shining grain of sand, yet neglect to admire the sun which caused it to shine? Of what folly and absurdity, then, are ws guilty, when we love the imperfectly amiable qualities of our fUlow worms, or admire the sublimity and beauty of the works of nature; and yet exercise no love to him to whom they are indebted for all; him whose glory gilds the heavens, and from whom angels derive every thing that can excite admiration or love. GOD THE ONLY SOURCE OF EXCELLENCE. God only, the Father of lights, from whom cometh down every good and perfect gift, makes one creature to differ from another. They are wise only by his wisdom, strong in his strength, and good in his goodness. He is more entirely the Author of every thing good in heaven and on earth, than the sun is the author of that image of himself which is seen in a mirror. When creatures acknowledge this, and ascribe all the excellences they possess to him alone, they then, in the language of Scripture, bring forth fruit, not to themselves, but to his glory. God is the source of every thing excellent or praiseworthy in the intellectual world. To him angels and men are alike indebted for all their faculties. Reason, memory, wit, prudence, invention and imagination, are only his gifts. The statesman, the warrior, the mathematician, the pcet, the orator, the historian, the astronomer, the painter, and the sculptor, all were formed, instructed and directed by him. By his assistance, all the great enterprises, splendid achievements and admirable works which the world ever saw, were performed. It is he, says David, who teaches my hands to wvr, and my fingers to fight. It was he who guided Columbus o the discovery of this new world. It was he who qualified our revered Washington for the great work of delivering his country, and assisted him in its accomplishment. And while we admire the gifts of God in men, shall we not admire the Giver? While we admire the SUBMISSION TO GOD. 465 achievements; enterprises and works of men, shall we not admire him who enabled men to perform them? Shall we rest in streams, and admire them only, without praising the fountain? Surely this is highly unreasonable. DUTY OF SUBMISSION TO THE WILL OF GOD. Suppose that the members of our bodies, instead of being controlled by the will of the head, had each a separate, independent will of its own: would they not, in this case, become useless and even mischievous? Something like this; you are sensible, occasionally takes place. In certain diseases, the members seem to escape from the control of the will, and act as if they were governed by a separate will of their own. When this is the case, terrible consequences often ensue. The teeth shut suddenly and.violently, and lacerate the tongue; the elevated hands beat the face and other parts of the body; the feet refuse to.support it, and it rolls in the dust a melancholy and frightful spectacle. Such effects we call convulsions. There are convulsions in the moral as well as in the natural world, and they take place when the will of man refuses to be controlled by the will of God. Did all men submit cordially to his will, they would live together in love and harmony, and, like the members of a healthy body, would all promote each other's welfare, and that of the whole system. But they have refused to obey his will, and have set up their own wills in opposition to it; and what has been the consequence? Convulsions, most terrible convulsions, which have, in ten thousand thousand instances, led one member of this great body to injure another. and not only disturbed but almost destroyed the peace of society. What are wars, insurrections, revolutions? What are robberies, piracies, murders, but convulsions in the moral world? convulsions which would never have occurred, had not the will of man refused to submit to the will of God. And never will these convulsions cease, never will universal love, and peace and happiness prevail, until the rebellious will of man shall again submit to the controlling will of God, and his will shall be done on earth as it is in heaven. If all mankind could be persuaded to say, Not as I will, but VOL. I. 59 466 SUBMISSION TO GOD. as thou wilt, as sincerely as Christ said it, sin would that moment cease to exist in the world, God and men would be perfectly reconciled, and his will would be done on earth as it is in heaven. Yes, let every human being only say to God, with his whole heart, Not my will but thine be done, and holiness and happiness would instantly fill the world; men would be embodied angels, and earth would become a sublunary heaven. I look up to heaven, and there see the blessed and only Potentate, the Creator and Upholder of all things, the infinite and eternal Sovereign of the universe, governing his vast kingdom with uncontrollable power, in a manner perfectly wise, and holy, and just, and good. In this Being I see my Creator, my Preserver, my unwearied Benefactor, to whom I am indebted for every thing which I possess. And what does this being see, what has he seen, in me? He sees a frail worm of the dust, who is of yesterday, and knows nothing, who cannot take a single step without making mistakes, who is wholly incompetent to guide himself, and who, by his own folly, is self-destroyed. He has seen this frail, blind, erring worm, presumptuously daring to criticise and censure his proceedings, to interfere in his government of the universe, and to set up his own perverse will against the will of his Creator, his Sovereign, and his God; his own ignorance against divine omniscience, and his own folly against infinite wisdom. This he has seen in me, and this he has seen in you; and who, that believes God has seen this in him, can avoid feeling overwhelmed with sorrow, and shame, and remorse? We may say what we please of the difficulty of repenting, but it would seem to be a thousand fold more difficult to refrain from repenting, after having been guilty of conduct like this. 0, then, come and perform this easy, this most reasonable duty. Come, and repent, before God, of your disobedience and opposition to his will, receive through Christ a free and gracious pardon, and then learn of him who was meek and lowly in heart, to say, Father, not my will, but thine, be done. Should an angel who knew nothing of our characters, but who had heard of the blessings which God has bestowed on us, visit this world, would he not expect to find every part of it NECESSITY OF SUBMISSION. 467 resounding with the praises of God and his love? Would he not expect to hear old and young, parents and children. all blessing God for the glad tidings of the gospel, and crying, Hosanna to the son of David? How, then, would he be grieved and disappointed! How astonished to find that Being whom he had ever heard praised in the most rapturous strains by all the bright armies of heaven, slighted, disobeyed, and dishonored, by his creatures on earth! Would you not be ashamed, would you not blush to look such a visitor in the face? to tell him how little you have done for God, tell him that you are not one of his servants' 0, then, let us strive to wipe away this foul stain, this disgrace to our race and our world. Let not this world be the only place, except hell, where God is not praised. Let us not be the only creatures, except devils, who refuse to praise him. ALL MEN THE SUBJECTS OF CHRIST. The subjects of Christ's mediatorial kingdom are divided into two grand classes-those who are obedient, and those who are rebellious. The former class is composed of good men and angels, the latter of wicked men and devils. The former serves Christ willingly and cheerfully. He rules them with the golden sceptre of love; his law is written in their hearts; they esteem his yoke easy and his burden light, and habitually execute his will. All the bright armies of heaven, angels and archangels, who excel in strength, are his servants, and go forth at his command, as messengers of love, to minister to the heirs of salvation, or as messengers of wrath to execute vengeance on his enemies. Nor are his obedient subjects to be found only in heaven. In this world, also, the standard of the cross, the banner of his love, is erected. and thousands and millions, who were once his enemies, have been brought willing captives to his feet, have joyfully acknowledged him as their Master and Lord, and sworn allegiance to him as the Author of their salvation. Nor is his authority less absolute over the second class of his subjects, who still persist in their rebellion. In vain do they say, We will not have this man to reign over us. He rules them with a rod of iron, causes even their wrath to praise him, and makes them the involuntary instruments of carrying on his great designs. He holds all the infernal spirits in a chain, gov 468 SIN OF UNBELIEF. erns the conquerors, monarchs and great ones of the earth, and in all things wherein they deal proudly, he is still above them, In one or the other of these ways, all must serve Christ. Is it not better to serve him willingly, and be rewarded, than to serve him reluctantly, and be destroyed? SINFULNESS OF UNBELIEF. The reason why persons who appear to be in some measure convinced of sin, so often lose their convictions; and why so many professors of religion fall away and disgrace their profession, is, because the work of conviction was never thoroughly performed; because they were never convinced of unbelief.They saw, perhaps, that they were sinners. They felt convinced of many sins in their tempers and conduct; they in some measure corrected and laid aide these sins; then their consciences ceased to reproach them, and they flattered themselves that they had become new creatures. But, meanwhile, they knew nothing of the great sin of unbelief, and therefore never confessed, repented of, or forsook it, until it proved their destruction. They were like a man who should go to a physician to be healed of some slight external wound, while he knew nothing of a deep-rooted disease which was preying upon his vitals. Professors, try yourselves by these remarks. Look back to the time when you imagined yourselves to be convinced of sin, and say whether you were then convinced, or whether you have at any time since been convinced of the exceeding sinfulness of unbelief. If not, there is great reason to fear that you are deceived, that you have mistaken the form for the power of godliness. It is God's invariable method to humble before he exalts; to show us our diseases before he heals them; to convince us that we are sinners before he pronounces our pardon. When, therefore, the Spirit of all grace and consolation comes to comfort and sanctify a sinner, he begins by acting the part of a reprover, and thus convincing him of sin. The sin of which he more particularly aims to convince him is unbelief. He shall reprove the world of sin, says our Saviour. Why? Because they are murderers, thieves, or adulterers? No. Because they are guilty of slander, fraud, or extortion? No. Because they are intemperate, dissipated, or sensual? No. Because they are HUMAN DEPRAVITY. 469 envious, malicious, or revengeful? No; but because they are unbelievers, because they believe not on me. If there is one fact, or doctrine, or promise in the Bible, which has produced no practical effect upon your temper or conduct, be assured that you do not truly believe it. CONDUCT OF MEN TOWARDS THEIR MAKER. Mankind seem to consider God as a sort of outlaw, who has no rights; or, at least, as one whose rights-may be disregarded and trampled on at pleasure. They allow that promises made to each other ought to be fulfilled; but they violate, without scruple, those promises which they often make to God, in an hour of seriousness, sickness, or affliction. They allow that earthly rulers ought to be obeyed, but they seem to think that no obedience is due to the Sovereign Ruler of the universe. They allow that children ought to love, honor, and submit to their parents; but they do not appear to think that either love, honor, or submission, should be paid to our Father in heaven. They allow that gratitude is due to human benefactors, and that to requite their favors with ingratitude, is a proof of abominable wickedness; but they practically deny that any grateful return should be made to our heavenly Benefactor for his innumerable benefits, and seem to consider the blackest ingratitude towards him as scarcely a sin. When a son forsakes his father's house; when he refuses to comply with his entreaties to return; when he chooses to endure all the evils of poverty rather than return, -we are ready to suspect that his father must be a very disagreeable, unlovely, or cruel aharacter, since his own children cannot live with him. At least, we shall think this unless we have a very bad opinion of the son. We must condemn one or the other. So, when God's own creatures, whom he has nourished and brought up as children, forsake him, and refuse to return or be reconciled, it gives other beings cause to suspect that he must be a very cruel, unlovely being; and they must either conclude that he is so, or form a very bad opinion of us. Now, sinners will not allow that the fault is theirs; of course they throw all the blame upon their Creator, and represent him as such an unkind, cruel Pa 470 ROBBING GOD. LOVE OF THE WORLD. rent, that his children cannot live with or please him. It is true, God has power to vindicate his own character, and to show the universe that the fault is wholly ours. But this is no thanks to us. The tendency of our conduct is still the same; it still tends to load his character with the blackest infamy and disgrace. This is all the return we make him for giving us existence. Thus do ye requite the Lord, 0 foolish people, and unwise. Will a man rob God? Yet ye have robbed me. It is evident that you withhold your hearts from God; or, in other words, rob him of your affections, the very thing which he principally desires. And is this a small offence? Should a person rob you of the affection and esteem of the partner of your bosom, of your children, or your friends, would you not think it a great injury? Would it not in many instances be worse than robbing you of your property? And is it, then, a trifling offence for intelligent creatures to rob their Creator, Father and benefactor, of that supreme place in their affections to which he has a most perfect right, and which he prizes above every thing they possess? The world is, in some form or other, the great Diana, the grand idol of all its inhabitants, so long as they continue in their natural sinful state. They bow down to it; they worship it; they spend and are spent for it; they educate their children in its service; their hearts, their minds, their memories, their imaginations, are full of it; their tongues speak of it; their hands grasp it; their feet pursue it. In a word, it is all in all to them, while they give scarcely a word, a look, or a thought to him who made and preserves them; and who is really all in all. Thus men rob God of their bodies and spirits,#hich are his, and practically say, We are our own; who is Lord over us? From the manner in which we habitually treat the Bible, we may learn what are our feelings and dispositions towards God; for as we treat the word of God, so should we treat God himself, were he to come and reside among us, in a human form, as he once dwelt on earth in the form of his Son. The contents of Scripture are a perfect transcript of the divine mind. If, then, God should come to dwell among us, he would teach the NEGLECT OF THE BIBLE AND PRAYER. 471 same things that the Scriptures teach, and pronounce upon us the same sentence which they pronounce. We should therefore feel towards him as we now feel towards them. If we reverence, and love, and obey the Scriptures, then we should reverence, love and obey God. But if we dislike or disbelieve the Scriptures, if we seldom study them, or read them only with indifference and neglect, we should treat God in the same manner. Never would he be a welcome guest in a family where his word is neglected. LANGUAGE OF THOSE WHO NEGLECT THE BIBLE. No man will ever voluntarily neglect to make himself acquainted with the contents of a message sent to him by one whom he acknowledges as his superior, or on whom he feels himself to be dependent. Let a subject receive a communication from his acknowledged sovereign, and as it claims, so it will receive his immediate attention. Nor will he, especially if it contains various and important instructions, think a hasty perusal of it sufficient. No, he will study it till he feels confident that he is acquainted with its contents, and understands their import. At least equally certain, and equally evident is it, that every man whose heart acknowledges God to be his rightful Sovereign, and who believes that the Scriptures contain a revelation from him, will study them attentively, study them till he feels confident that he understands their contents, and that they have made him wise unto salvation. The man who does not thus study them, who negligently suffers them to lie, for days and weeks, unopened, says, more explicitly than any words can say, I am Lord; God is not my Sovereign; I'am not his subject, nor do I consider it important to know what he requires of me. Carry his messages to those who are subject to him, and they will, perhaps, pay them some attention. LANGUA G E OF ALL WHO NEGLECT PRAYER. It is natural to man, from his earliest infancy, to cry for relief when in danger or distress, if he supposes that any one able to relieve him is within hearing of his cries. Every man. then, who feels his own dependence upon God, and his need of blessings which God only can bestow, will pray to him. He will feel that prayer is not only his duty, but his highest privi 472 FORBEARANCE OF GOD. lege; a privilege of which he' would not consent to be deprived; though confinement in a den of lions were to be the consequence of its exercise. The man, then, who refuses, or neglects to pray, who regards prayer not as a privilege, but as a wearisome and needless task, practically says, in the most unequivocal manner, I am not dependent on God; I want nothing that he can give; and therefore I will not come to him, nor ask any favor at his hands. I will not ask him to crown my exertions with success, for I am able, and determined, to be the architect of my own fortune. I will not ask him to instruct or guide me, for I am competent to be my own instructor and guide. I will not ask him to strengthen and support me, for I am strong in the vigor and resources of my own mind. I will not request his protection, for I am able to protect myself. I will not implore his pardoning mercy nor his sanctifying grace, for I need, I desire, neither the one nor the other. 1 will not ask his presence and aid in the hour of death, for I can meet and grapple, unsupported, with the king of terrors, and enter, undaunted and alone, any unknown world into which he may usher me. Such is the language of all who neglect prayer. REASON OF GOD S FORBEARANCE WITH SINNERS. How wonderful is the long-suffering and forbearance of God! Here are sinners who have been, for twenty, forty, sixty years, abusing his patience, and misimproving all his benefits. Yet, instead of cutting them down, he adds another year, perhaps many years, to their long since forfeited lives. There are sinners who have wasted and profaned a thousand Sabbaths, yet he allows them another Sabbath, another opportunity of hearing the offers of salvation. There are sinners who have repeatedly been urged in vain to be reconciled to God; yet he condescends still to require a reconciliation. There are sinners at whose hearts Christ has knocked, a thousand and a thousand times; but, though they refuse to admit him, he still knocks again. 0, why are such treasures of goodness lavished on such insensible creatures? Why is such an inestimable prize put into the hands of those who have no heart to improve it? Why, indeed, but to show what God can do, and how infinitely his patience and forbearance exceed ours. MAN S DEPENDENCE. 473 One reason why God bestows on sinners the day and the means of grace, is, that they may have an opportunity of clearly displaying their own characters, and thus proving the truth of the charges which he has brought against them. He does, as it were, say to the world, I have accused these creatures of being enemies to me and to all goodness, and of cherishing in their hearts an obstinate attachment to vice. They deny tre charge. 1 am therefore about to bring them to the test; to try an experiment which will clearly show whether my charges are well-founded or not. I shall send them my word, and the gospel of my Son, clearly revealing to them the way of salvation. I shall send messengers to explain and press upon them the truths there revealed. I shall allow them one day in seven to attend on their instructions, and I shall offer them the assistance of my Spirit, to render them holy: these privileges they shall enjoy for years together. If they improve them aright, if they believe my word, receive and love my Son, and renounce their sins, I will acknowledge that I have accused them falsely, that they are not so depraved as I have represented them. But, should they, on the contrary, neglect my word, disbelieve the gospel, and refuse to receive and submit to my Son; should they profane the Sabbath, misirnprove the day of grace, refuse to repent of their sins, and be reconciled to me, then it will be evident to all, that I have not accused them falsely; that they are just such depraved, obstinate, irreconcilable enemies to me and to goodness, as I have represented them to be in my word. WE ARE LORDS, JER. II. 31. If men are indeed independent of God, it may, with safety, be asserted, that he is almost the only being or object in the universe, on whom they are not dependent. From the cradle to the grave, their lives exhibit little else than a continued course of dependence. They are dependent on the earth, on the water, on the air, on each other, on irrational animals, on vegetables, on unorganized substances. Let but the sun withhold his beams, and the clouds their showers for a single year, and the whole race of these mighty, independent beings expires. Let but a pestilential blast sweep over them, and they aregone. Let but some imperceptible derangement take place in their frail but complicated frame, and all their boasted intellecVOL. I. 60 474 TO THE IMPENITENT. tual powers sink to the level of an idiot's mind. Let a small portion of that food, on which they daily depend for nourishment, pass but the breadth of a line from its proper course, and they expire in agony. An insect, a needle, a thorn, has often proved sufficient to subject them to the same fate. And while they are dependent on so many objects for the continuance of their lives, they are dependent on a still greater number for happiness, and for the success of their enterprises. Let but a single spark fall unheeded, or be wafted by a breath of air, and a city, which it has cost thousands the labors of many years to erect, may be turned to ashes. Let the wind but blow from one point rather than from another, and the hopes of the merchant are dashed against a rock. Let but a little more, or a little less, than the usual quantity of rain descend, and in the latter case the prospects of the husbandman are blasted, while, in the other, his anticipated harvest perishes beneath the clods, or is swept away by an inundation. Blut in vain do we attempt to describe the extent of man's dependence, or enumerate all the objects and events on which he depends. Yet all these objects and events are under the control of Jehovah. Without his notice and appointment, not a hair falls from our heads, nor a sparrow to the ground. 0 how far is it, then, from being true, that man is not dependent on God! TO THE IMPENITENT. My friends, God offers you the water of life, without money and without price. Every one may come and take it if he will; and is not this sufficient? Would you have the water of life forced upon you? What is it that you wish? My friends, I will tell you what you wish. You wish to live as you please here, to disobey your Creator, to neglect your Saviour, to fulfil the desires of the flesh and of the mind; and at death to be admitted into a kind of sensual paradise, where you may taste again the same pleasures which you enjoyed on earth. You wish that God should break his word, stain his justice, purity and truth, and sacrifice the honor of his law, his own rightful authority, and the best interests of the universe, to the gratification of your own sinful propensities. Look back to those who have passed the great change through GOD ANGRY WITH SINNERS. 475 which we must all pass. Think of the patriarchs who died before the flood. They have been perfectly happy for more than four thousand years; yet their happiness has but just commenced. Think of the sinners who died before the flood. For more than four thousand years they have been completely wretched, and yet their misery is but begun. So there will be a time when you will have been happy or miserable four thousand years, and for four times four thousand years, and yet your heaven or your hell will even then be but beginning. GOD ANGRY WITH SINNERS.' God is angry with the wicked every day." Do you ask why he is angry? I answer, He is angry to see rational, immortal, and accountable beings, spending twenty, forty, or sixty years in trifling and sin; serving divers idols, lusts and vanities, and living as if death were an eternal sleep. He is angry to see you forgetting your Maker in childhood, in youth, in manhood, making no returns for all his benefits, casting off his fear, and restraining prayer, and rebelling against him who has nourished and brought you up as children. He is angry to see you laying up treasures on earth, and not in heaven; seeking every thing in preference to the one thing needful; loving the praise of men more than the praise of God; and fearing those who can only kill the body, more than him who hath power to cast both soul and body into hell. He is angry to see that you disregard alike his threatenings and his promises; his judgments and his mercies; that you bury in the earth the talents he has given you, and bring forth no fruit to his glory; that you neglect his word, his spirit and his law, and perish in impenitency and unbelief, notwithstanding all the means employed for your conversion. He is angry to see you come before him as his people, and worship him with your lips, while your thoughts are perhaps wandering to the ends of the earth. He is angry to see you trusting in your own wisdom, strength and righteousness for salvation, instead of placing your dependence on Christ, the only name by which you can possibly be saved. These are sins of which every person, in an unconverted state, is guilty; and for these things God is angry, daily angry, greatly and justly angry; and unless his anger be speedily appeased, it will most certainly prove your destruction. 476 aMOTIVES TO REPENTANCE. LUKE XV. 10. God now commandeth all men, every where, to repent. I lay this command across your path: you cannot proceed one step farther in a sinful course without treading it under foot. You are urged to the immediate performance of this duty by a regard to your own interest; for except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish. You are urged to it by all the blessed angels, who are waiting with a desire to rejoice in your conversion. Above all, you are most powerfully urged to it by the blessed Redeemer, whom you are under the strongest possible obligations to love and obey. He has done and suffered much for you. For you he has toiled, bled and died. For you he cheer. fully endured the scoffs and cruelties of men; the rage and malice of devils; and the overwhelming weight of his Father's wrath. In return for all this, he asks of you one small favor. He merely requests you to repent and be happy. If you comply with his request, he will see of the travail of his soul, and be satisfied. 0, then, be persuaded to give joy to God, to his Son, and to the holy angels; to make this day a festival in heaven, by repenting. Even now, your heavenly Father is waiting for your return, and the Redeemer stands ready with expanded arms to receive you. Even now the white robes and the ring are provided, and the fatted calf is made ready to feast returning prodigals. Even now, angels and archangels are ready to pour forth their most joyful songs to celebrate your return. Will you, then, by persisting in impenitence, seal up their lips? Will you say, There shall be no joy in heaven, this day, on your account? God shall not be glorified, Christ shall not be gratified, angels shall not rejoice, if we can prevent it? If there be any of whose feelings and conduct this is the language, I solemnly, but reluctantly declare unto you, in the name of Jehovah, that God and his Son shall be glorified, and there shall be joy over you in heaven, notwithstanding all your endeavors to prevent it.- Never shall any of his creatures rob God of his glory; and, if you will not consent that his grace shall be glorified in your salvation, he will be compelled to glorify his justice, in your everlasting destruction. If you will not allow the inhabitants of heaven to rejoice in your repentance, their love of justice, truth and holiness will constrain them OBJECTIONS ANSWERED. 477 to rejoice in your condemnation, and to sing alleluia, while the smoke of your torment ascendeth up forever and ever. OBJECTIONS OF SINNERS TO THE GOSPEL ANSWERED. Suppose that, while you are dying of a fatal disease, a medicine of great reputed efficacy is offered you, on making trial of which, you find yourself restored to health and activity. Full of joy and gratitude, you propose the remedy to others, afflicted with the same disease. One of these persons replies to you, " I am surprised that you place so much faith in the virtues of this medicine. How do you know that it was really discovered by the person whose name it bears? Or, even if it were, it is so. many years ago, and the medicine has passed through so many hands since, that it is probably corrupted, or perhaps some other has been substituted in the place of the genuine medicine." Says another, 1 It may not be suited to the constitutions of men in this age, though it was undoubtedly useful to those who first used it."' C The disease and the cure are both equally imaginary," says a third.'' There are many other remedies of equal or superior efficacy," objects a fourth. " None of the most celebrated physicians recommend it," replies a fifth; while a sixth attempts to silence you by objecting to the phials in which it is put up, and repeating that boxes would have been more suitable. What weight would all these objections have with you? Would they induce you to throw away the healing balm, whose effects you even then felt, sending life, and health, and vigor, through your whole frame? Even thus may infidels and cavillers urge objections against the gospel; but the Christian heeds them not, for he has felt, in his own soul, its life-giving power. Will you say there are no real stars, because you sometimes see meteors fall, which for a time appeared to be stars? Will you say that blossoms never produce fruit, because many of them fall off, and some fruit, which appears sound, is rotten at the core? Equally absurd is it to say there is no such thing as real religion, because many who profess it fall away, or prove to be hypocrites in heart. Or will you say that a medicine does no good, because, though it removes the fever, it does not restore the pa 478 FOLLY OF OBJECTORS. tient to perfect strength in an instant? Equally groundless and absurd is it to say that religion does not make its possessors better, because it does not, in a moment, make them perfect as the angels of God. The many false and counterfeit appearances which we meet with, instead of proving that there is no religion in the world, not only prove that there is, but that it is extremely precious; otherwise it would not be counterfeited. No one will be at the trouble of counterfeiting, either what does not exist, or what is of no value. No one will make false stones, or false dust, though many make false pearls and diamonds. If there were no real money, there would be no counterfeit; and so, if there were no real religion, there would be no false religion. One cannot exist without the other any more than a shadow can exist without a substance; and he who rejects all religion, because hypocrites sometimes borrow its name and appearance, acts no less absurdly than he who throws his gold or jewels into the fire, because gold and jewels have sometimes been counterfeited. Surely, if Christianity be a delusion, it is a blessed delusion indeed; and he who attempts to destroy it is an enemy to mankind. It is a delusion which teaches us to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God; a delusion which teaches us to love our Maker supremely, and our neighbor as ourselves; a delusion which bids us love, forgive, and pray for our enemies, render good for evil, and promote the glory of God and the happiness of our fellow creatures, by every means in our power; a delusion, which, wherever it is received, produces a humble, meek, charitable and peaceful temper, and which, did it universally prevail, would banish wars, vice and misery from the world. It is a delusion which not only supports and comforts its believers in their wearisome progress through this vale of tears, but. attends them in death, when all other consolations fail, and enables them to triumph over sorrows, sickness, anguish and the grave. If delusion can do this, in delusion let me live and die; for what could the most blessed reality do more? FOLLY OF REJECTING THE GOSPEL. Shall we listen to men when God speaks? Shall blind and HUMAN REASON. 479 ignorant worms of the dust pretend to know what God will do, better than he who was from eternity in the bosom of the Father? Hast thou, 0 man, whosoever thou art, that pretendest that the words of Christ are unreasonable, or improbable, or false, hast thou ascended into heaven, or descended into hell? Hast thou measured eternity and grasped infinity? Hast thou by searchingfound out God? Hast thou found out the Almighty unto perfection? Canst thou tell me more of him than can the Son of his love, in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge? Does the dim taper of thy darkened reason shine brighter than the glorious Sun of righteousness? And are those to be branded as fools and madmen, who choose to walk in his light, rather than to be led by a mere ignis fatnus? No; till you can bring us a teacher superior to Christ, who is the wisdom of God; till you can show us a man who has weighed the mountains in the hollow of his hand, and meted out heaven with a span; who has lived in heaven from eternity; and can prove that he knows more than Omniscience, - we will, we must cleave to Christ. Here is a rock. All is sea besides. Nor shall the unbelief of sinners make the faith of God without effect; for, if we believe not, he remains faithful; he cannot deny himself. INSUFFICIENCY OF HUMAN REASON. Viewed through any other medium than that of revelation, man is a riddle which man cannot expound; a being composed of inconsistencies and contradictions, which unassisted reason must forever seek in vain to reconcile. In vain does she endeavor to ascertain the origin, object and end of his existence. In vain does she inquire in what his duty and happiness consist. In vain does she ask what is his present concern and future destination. Wherever she turns for information, she is soon lost in a labyrinth of doubts and perplexities, and finds the progress of her researches interrupted by a cloud of obscurity which the rays of her feeble lamp are insufficient to penetrate. Suppose you should see a man carrying a little, glimmering taper in his hand at noonday, with his back turned to the sun, and foolishly endeavoring to persuade himself and others that he had no need of the sun, and that his taper gave more light 480 NATURAL RELIGION. than that glorious luminary. How amazingly great would be his folly! Yet this illustration very feebly represents the folly of those Awho walk in the sparks of their own kindling, while they disregard the glorious Sun of righteousness. NATURAL RELIGION. I know that those who hate and despise the religion of Jesus because it condemns their evil deeds, have endeavored to deprive him of the honor of communicating to mankind the glad tidings of life and immortality; I know that they have dragged the mouldering carcass of paganism from the grave, animated her lifeless form with a spark stolen from the sacred altar, arrayed her in the spoils of Christianity, re-enlightened her extinguished taper at the torch of revelation, dignified her with the name of natural religion, and exalted her in the temple of reason, as a goddess,.able, without divine assistance, to guide mankind to truth and happiness. But we also know, that all her boasted pretensions are vain, the offspring of ignorance, wickedness and pride. We know that she is indebted to that revelation which she presumes to ridicule and condemn, for every semblance of truth or energy which she displays. We know that the most she can do, is to find men blind and leave them so; and to lead them still farther astray, in a labyrinth of vice, delusion and wretchedness. This is incontrovertibly evident, both from past and present experience; and we may defy her most eloquent advocates to produce a single instance, in which she has enlightened or reformed mankind. If, as is often asserted, she is able to guide us in the path of truth and happiness, why has she ever suffered her votaries to remain a prey to vice and ignorance? Why did she not teach the learned Egyptians to abstain from worshipping their leeks and onions? Why not instruct the polished Greeks to renounce their sixty-thousand gods? Why not persuade the enlightened Romans to abstain from adoring their deified murderers? Why not prevail on the wealthy Phoenicians to refrain from sacrificing their infants to Saturn? Or, if it was a task beyond her power to enlighten the ignorant multitude, reform their barbarous and abominable superstitions, and teach them that they were immortal beings, why did she not, at least, instruct their philosophers in the great doctrine of the immortality of the soul, which they earnestly labored in vain to NATURAL RELIGION. 481 discover? They enjoyed the light of reason and natural religion, in its fullest extent; yet so far were they from ascertaining the nature of our future and eternal existence, that they could not determine whether we should exist at all beyond the grave; nor could all their advantages preserve them from the grossest errors and most unnatural crimes. What would you say of a man who should throw away his compass, because he could not tell why it points to the north'? or reject an accurate chart, because it did not include a delineation of coasts which he never expected to visit, and with which he had no concern? What would you say of a man who should reject all the best astronomical treatises, because they do not describe the inhabitants of the moon, and of the planets; or who should treat with contempt every book which does not answer all the questions that may be asked respecting the subject of which it treats? Or, to come still nearer to the point, what would you say of a man, who, when sick of a mortal disease, should refuse an infallible remedy, unless the physician would first tell-him how he took the disease, how such diseases first entered the world, why they were permitted to enter it, and by what secret laws or virtues the offered remedy would effect his cure? Would you not say, a man so unreasonable deserves to die? He must be left to suffer for his folly. Now, this is precisely the case of those who neglect the Bible, because it does not reveal those secret things which belong to God. Your souls are assailed by fatal diseases, by diseases which have destroyed millions of your fellow creatures, which already occasion you much suffering, and which, you are assured, will terminate in death unless removed.. An infallible Physician is revealed to you, in the Bible, who has, at a great expense, provided a certain remedy; and this remedy he offers you freely, without money and without price. But you refuse to take this remedy; because he does not think it necessary to answer every question whitch can be asked respecting the origin of your disease, the introduction of such diseases into the world, and the reasons why they were ever permitted to enter it. Tell me, you exclaim, how I became sick, or I will not consent to be well. If this be not the height of folly and madness, what is? VOL. I. 61 482 PUNISHMENT OF SINNERS. We have not the smallest reason to suppose that, if God had revealed all those secret things which belong to him, it would have made it more easy than it is now, to know and perform our duty. Suppose, for instance, that God should answer all the questions which may be asked respecting the origin of moral evil, and its introduction into the world; wxould this knowledge at all assist us in banishing evil from the world, or from our own bosoms? As well might we pretend that a knowledge, of the precise manner in which a man was killed would enable us to restore him to life. Or, should God inform us of the manner in which divinity and humanity are united in the person of Jesus Christ, would this knowledge assist us in performing any one of the duties we owe the Saviour? As well might we pretend that a knowledge of the manner in which our souls are united to our bodies, would assist us in performing any of the common actions of life. The Bible tells us that an enemy came and sowed tares. Now, if any man chooses to go farther than this, and inquire where the enemy got the tares, he is welcome to do so; but I choose to leave it where the Bible leaves it. I do not wish to be wise above what is written. FATE OF THOSE WHO REJECT THE GOSPEL. It is God's invariable rule of proceeding to deal with his creatures, in some measure, as they deal with him. Hence we are told that, with the upright, he will show himself upright; with the merciful, he will show himself merciful; and with the froward, he will show himself froward. When, therefore, persons come to him with a pretended desire to know their duty, but, in reality, with a view to find some excuse or justification for their errors and sins, he will suffer them, as a punishment, to find something which will harden them in their wickedness. Thus he will suffer the obstinate believer in universal salvation, to deceive himself with his delusive dreams, till he wakes in torments. H-e will suffer the proud, self-righteous opposer of his gospel, to trust in his moral duties, till it is too late to discover his mistake. He will suffer the self-deceived hypocrite to please himself with his false hopes of heaven, till he finds the door forever shut against him. All these persons did, in NO PEACE TO SINNERS. 483 effect, wish to be deceived they hated the light, shut their eyes, and would not come to it; they leaned to their own understandings, instead of trusting to the Lord; they never prayed him to keep them from self-deception and from false paths; they chose to believe Satan rather than God, and therefore are justly Jeft to feel the effects of it. THE WICKED, LIKE A TROUBLED SEA. Ungoverned passions are to the mind what winds are to the ocean, and they often throw it into a storm; for, in such a world as this, the sinner must meet with many things which are calculated to rouse them. Sometimes he is injured, injured perhaps without cause or provocation; and then his mind is agitated by revengeful feelings. Sometimes he sees a rival, perhaps an unworthy rival, outstrip him in the race, and seize the prize which he had loped to obtain; and, in consequence, envy, mortification, and chagrin, lie gnawing at his heart, and cause the greater pain because he is obliged to conceal them. Often he meets with some slight affront or insult, which wounds his pride, and sets his angry passions in a flame, like Haman, who could enjoy nothing because Mordecai refused to do him reverence. In addition to these things, he is daily exposed to a thousand little nameless vexatious occurrences, which tease, and fret, and harass him, rendering his mind a stranger to peace. Often, too, his mind is disturbed by its own workings, without any assignable cause. He feels restless and unhappy, he can scarcely tell why. He wants something, but he cannot tell what. One wave of troubled thought after another, comes rolling upon his mind, and he cannot say with the Psalmist, In the multitude of my thoughts within me, thy comforts delight my soul. These troublesome thoughts, and tumultuous workings of the mind, are to the wicked man what the daily flow and ebb of the tide are to the ocean. They keep it in agitation even when the waves of passion cease to flow. THOUGHTS OF GOD' PAINFUL TO THE SINNER. Sinners do not like to retain God in their knowledge, because He is omniscient and omnipresent. In consequence of his possessing these attributes, he is a constant witness of their feelings and conduct, and is perfectly acquainted with their hearts. 484 SATAN'S ARMOR. This must render the thoughts of his holiness still more disa. greeable to a sinner, for what can be more unpleasant to such a character, than the constant presence and inspection of a holy being, whom he cannot deceive, from whose keen, searching gaze he cannot for a moment hide, to whom darkness and light are alike open, and who views the sinner's conduct with the utmost displeasure and abhorrence? Even the presence of our fellow creatures is disagreeable, when we wish to indulge any sinful propensity which they will disapprove. The slanderer, the profane swearer, the drunkard, the debauchee and the gamester would feel the presence of a religious inferior to be irksome, though he should be present but for an hour. Hlow exceedingly irksome, then, must the constant presence of a holy, heart-searching God be to a sinner! But if the sinner retains a knowledge of God, he must feel him to be present. No wonder, then, that sinners banish a knowledge of him from their minds, as the easiest method of freeing themselves from the restraint imposed by his presence. SATAN'S ARMOR. The armor with which Satan furnishes his followers, is directly the reverse of that Christian armor described by the apostle Paul. Instead of a girdle of truth, he girds the sinner with the girdle of error and deceit. Instead of the breastplate of Christ's righteousness, he furnishes him with a breastplate of his own fancied righteousness. Instead of the shield of faith, the sinner has the shield of unbelief; and with this he defends himself against the curses of the law, and the arrows of conviction. Instead of the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, he teaches them to wield the sword of a tongue set on fire of hell, and furnishes them with a magazine of cavils, excuses, and objections, with which they attack religion, and defend themselves. He also builds for them many refuges of lies, in which, as in a strong castle, they proudly hope to shelter themselves from the wrath of God. The false peace and security in which sinners indulge, instead of proving their safety, is only a further evidence of their danger. It proves that the strong man armed is not disturbed in his possessions, but that he keeps them in peace. CONSCIENCE. 485 GROUNDS OF THE SINNER'S PEACE. There is, perhaps, scarcely a person to be found, who does not, in his own opinion, exemplarily perform some part of his duty. On this he looks with no small degree of self-complacency, and flatters himself that it will atone for all obliquities in his temper and conduct. To this he flies for refuge whenever conscience reproves his deficiencies, and, instead of believing the apostolic assertion, that if a man shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all, seems to suppose that if he transgresses the whole law, and yet obeys one precept, he is guiltless. I have met with a person who, though guilty of almost every crime which could disgrace her sex, thanked God, with much apparent self-gratulation, that she was not a thief; and who evidently imagined that her abstaining from this one vice would secure her from the displeasure of heaven. CONSCIENCE. Conscience is God's vicegerent in the soul, and though sinners may stupefy and sear, they cannot entirely silence for destroy it. At times, this unwelcome monitor will awake, and then her reproaches and threatenings are, above all things, terrible to the sinner. During the day, while he is surrounded by thoughtless companions, or wholly engrossed by worldly pursuits, he may contrive to stifle, or at least to disregard, her voice; but at night, and upon his bed, when all is silent around him, when darkness and solitude compel him to attend to his own reflections, the case is different. Then an awakened conscience will be heard. Then she arraigns the sinner at her bar, tries, convicts, and condemns him, and threatens him with the punishment which his sins deserve. In vain does he endeavor to fly from her torturing scourge, or to find refuge in sleep. Sleep flies from him. One sin after another rises to his view, and the load of conscious guilt, which oppresses him, becomes more and more heavy, till, like the impious Belshazzar, when he saw the mysterious handwriting upon the wall, the joints of his loins are loosed, and his knees smite one against the other. He finds that something must be done. He has heard that prayer is a duty, and he attempts to pray. He utters a few half-formed cries for mercy, makes a few insincere resolutions, and promises 488 A WOUNDED SPIRIT. of amendment; and having thus, in some measure, quieted the reproaches of his conscience, he falls asleep. In the morning he wakes, rejoiced to see once more the cheerful light; the resolutions and promises of the night are forgotten, he again spends the day in folly and sin, and at night retires to his bed,. again to be scourged by conscience for breaking his resolutions, again to quiet her reproaches by insincere prayers and promises, arid again to break these promises when the light returns. There is. a season, and often, perhaps, more than one, in the life of almost every person who hears the gospel faithfully preached, in which it affects him more than ordinarily. Something like light appears to shine into his mind, which enables him to discover objects previously unseen or unnoticed. While this light continues to shine, he feels a much more full and strong conviction of the truth of the Bible, and of the reality and importance of religion, than he ever felt before. He sees, with more or less clearness, that he is a sinner; that, as such, he is exposed to God's displeasure; and that, unless some means can be found to avert that displeasure, he is undone. After such means, he is, therefore, very inquisitive. He reads the Bible more frequently and carefully, becomes a more diligent, attentive and interested hearer of the gospel, is fond of conversing on religious subjects, and perhaps attempts to pray for mercy. Christ stands at the door of his heart, and knocks for admittance. With a person in this situation, he is as really, though not as visibly, present, as he was with the Jews, when he said, Yet a little while is the light with you. A WOUNDED SPIRIT WHO CAN BEAR. One reason why the anguish of a wounded spirit is more intolerable than any other species of suffering, is, that it is impossible to obtain the smallest consolation or relief under it. This can scarcely be said, with truth, of any other species of suffering to which mankind are liable. If they lose friends, they have usually other friends to sympathize with them, and assist in repairing their loss. If they lose property, they may hope to regain it, or, if not, their losses cannot be always present to their mind, and many sources of enjoyment are still open to them. If they are afflicted with painful diseases, they can A WOUNDED SPIRIT. 487 usually obtain, at least, temporary relief from medicine, and receive some consolation fiom the sympathy of their friends. In all cases, they can, for a time, lose their sorrows in sleep, and look forward to death as the termination of their troubles. But very different is the situation of one who suffers the anguish of a wounded spirit. H-e cannot fly from his misery, for it is within. Nor can he forget it, for it is every moment present to his mind. Nor can he divert his attention from it, for it engages his thoughts, in defiance of all endeavors to fix them on any other objects. Nor can he derive consolation from any friends or temporal blessings he may possess, for every thing is turned to poison and bitterness, and the very power of enjoyment seems to be taken from him. Nor can he even lose his sorrows in sleep, for sleep usually flies from a wounded spirit, or, if obtained, it is disturbed a'nd unrefreshing. Hence the exclamation of Job, When I say, My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaint; then, thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions. Look which way it will for relief, the wounded spirit can discover nothing but aggravations of its wretchedness. If it looks within, it finds nothing but darkness, and tempest and despair. If it looks around on its temporal possessions, it sees nothing but gifts of God which it has abused, and for its abuse of which it must give a terrible account. If it looks back, it sees a life spent in neglect of God, and ten thousand sins, following it as accusers to the judgment-seat. If it looks forward, it sees that judgment-seat to which it must come, and where it expects nothing but a sentence of final condemnation. If it looks up, it sees that God who is wounding it, and whose anger seems to search it like fire; and if it looks downward, it sees the gulf which awaits its fall. Not even to death can it look forward as the termination of its miseries, for it fears that its miseries will then receive a terrible increase. True, there is one object to which it might look for relief, and find it. It might look to the Saviour, the great Physician, and obtain not only a cure for its wounds, but everlasting life. But to him it will not look, till its impenitence and unbelief are subdued by sovereign grace. 433 UN W ILLINGNESS TO BE SAVED. SINNER'S UNWILLINGNESS TO GO TO CHRIST. The sinner tries every place of refuge before he will enter the ark of safety. He is like a person exposed to the storm and tempest, for whom a place of safety is provided, which he is unwilling to enter. He flies from one place of fancied security to take refuge in another. The storm increases; one hidingplace after another is swept away, till, at length, exposed, without a shelter, to the raging storm, he is glad to flee to the refuge provided for him. Suppose an apparently strong and healthy man should apply to you for relief, and, when asked why he did not labor for his subsistence, should reply, Because I can find no one to employ me. If you wished to know whether this or indolence were the true reason, you would offer him employment; and if he then refused to labor, you would feel satisfied that he was slothful and undeserving of your charity. So, when God puts into the hands of sinners a price to get wisdom, and they do not improve it, it becomes evident that they do not wish, that they are not willing, to become religious. EXCUSES OF THE SINNER ANSWERED. Numerous as are the excuses which sinners make when urged to embrace the gospel, they may all be reduced to three; the first is, that they have no time to attend to religion; the second is, that they do not know how to become religious; and the third, that they are not able to become so. Want of time, want of knowledge, or want of power, is pleaded by all. Foreseeing that they would make these excuses, God determined that they should have no reason to make them. By giving them the Sabbath, he has allowed them time for religion. By giving them his word, and messengers to explain it, he has taken away. the excuse of ignorance; and by offering them the assistance of his Holy Spirit, he has deprived them of the pretence that they are unable to obey him. Thus he has obviated all their excuses; and therefore, at the last day, every mouth will be stopped, and the whole impenitent world will stand guilty and self-condemned before God. The convinced sinner wishes to be saved; but then he would PEACE IN BELIEVING. 489 be his own saviour. He will not consent to be saved by Christ. He cannot bear to come as a poor, miserable, self-condemned sinner, and throw himself on the mere mercy of Christ; but he wants to purchase heaven; to give so many good deeds, as he calls them, for so much happiness hereafter. He goes on to multiply his religious duties, and, with great diligence, makes a robe of his own righteousness, with which he hopes to cover his moral nakedness, and render himself acceptable in the sight of God. In vain is he told that all his righteousness is as filthy rags; that he is daily growing worse, rather than better; that eternal life can never be purchased. He will stop here, as thousands have done before, resting on this foundation, having the form of Godliness, but denying the power, unless the Spirit of God continue to strive with him, and complete the work by showing him his own heart. THE KNOWLEDGE OF CHRIST BRINGS PEACE TO THE SINNER. Even a knowledge of the divine perfections, if it could have been obtained without Christ, would only have driven us to despair, as it did our guilty first parents; for out of Christ, God is a consuming fire. The convinced sinner looks at the greatness of God, and says, How can he stoop to notice a being so insignificant as myself? He looks at his holiness, and says, God cannot but hate me as a vile, polluted sinner. He looks at his justice, and says, God must condemn me, for I have broken his righteous law. He looks at his truth, and cries, God is not a man that he should lie; he must execute his threatenings and destroy me. He looks at God's immutability, and says, He is in one mind, and who can turn him? He will never change; he will always be my enemy. He looks at his power and wisdom, and says, I can neither resist nor deceive him. He looks at his eternity and exclaims, It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. Thus do all the divine perfections become so many sources of terror and dismay to the convinced sinner. But no sooner does he obtain a knowledge of Christ, than his fears vanish. The divine perfections no longer forbid him to hope for mercy, but encourage him to do it. Instead of the thunders of the law, he hears the compassionate voice of Christ saying, Be of good cheer, my blood VOL. I. 62 490 PEACE IN BELIEVING. cleanseth from all sin; thy sins, which are many, are forgiven. H-e feels boldness to enter into the holiest of all through the blood of Jesus, and exclaims with the apostle, Being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Such are the blessed effects which St. Paul experienced from a knowledge of Christ, and which every true believer experiences. Can we then wonder, that, in comparison with it, they count all things but loss. THE CONVINCED SINNER BELIEVING IN CHRIST. When a convinced, guilty sinner, who feels condemned by the law of God and his own conscience, and fears the sentence of eternal condemnation from the mouth of his Judge hereafter, hears and believes the glad tidings of salvation, they cause hope in the mercy of God to spring up in his anxious, troubled breast. He says to himself, I am a miserable, guilty creature. I have rebelled against my Creator, broken his law, and thus exposed myself to its dreadful curse. How, then, can I escape from this curse, which threatens to plunge me in eternal ruin? Can I call back the idle words I have uttered, the sinful desires I have indulged, the wicked actions I have committed, the time I have wasted, the precious privileges and opportunities I have misimproved? No. Can I wash away the guilt of these sins from my troubled conscience, or blot out the black catalogue of them which is written in the book of God's remembrance No. Can I make any satisfaction or atonement for them, to appease my justly-ofFended God? No. Even should I be perfectly obedient in future, still this will not blot out my past sins. Besides, I find that I daily commit new sins; so that, instead of diminishing, I increase my guilt. What, then, can I do? Where can I turn? On what can I build any hope of mercy? Why should God pardon me, and give me heaven, when I have done, and still do nothing but provoke him! What can I, what must I do to be saved? The gospel indeed says, Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved. It tells me that though my sins be of a crimson color and scarlet dye, yet if I forsake them, and turn unto the Lord, he will abundantly pardon. Why should not I believe in Christ, as well as others? His blood cleanseth from all sin. But perhaps I am too great a sinner to be saved. Yet the gospel assures me that Christ calne EFFECTS OF CONVERSION. 491 to save the chief of sinners. Why, then, should I doubt? Why should I not believe? I must, I will, I can, I do believe; Lord, help thou mine unbelief. EFFECTS OF CONVERSION. When a man stands with his back to the sun, his own shadow and the shadows of surrounding objects are before him. But when he turns towards the sun, all these shadows are behind him. It is the same in spiritual things. God is the great Sun of the universe. Compared with him, creatures are but shadows. But while men stand with their backs to God, all these shadows are before them, and engross their affections, desires and exertions. On the contrary, when they are converted, and turn to God, all these shadows are thrown behind them, and God becomes all in all, so that they can say fron the heart, Whom have we in heaven but thee? and there is none on earth that we desire besides thee. The effect produced on a sinner who is brought from darkness into God's marvellous light, may be illustrated in the following manner. The Scriptures teach us that angels are continually present in our world, and employed in executing the designs of God. Being spirits, they are of course invisible to mortal eyes. Hence we are unconscious of their presence, and, therefore are not affected by it. Now, suppose, - for the supposition involves no impossibility, - that God should impart to any one of our race the power of seeing these active and benevolent spirits. It is evident that this power would occasion a great change in the conduct and feelings of that man. He would see angels, where other persons could see nothing. He would be interested by the sight; he would wish to form an acquaintance with these newly-discovered beings; he would frequently speak of them, of their employments and pursuits. Of course he would no longer be like other men; he would become, in one sense, a new creature, and the angels would appear to him so much more interesting than other objects, that his attention would be much diverted. Hence he would be thought a visionary or a distracted man. Now, the light of divine truth does not make angels visible, but it makes the Lord of angels, the Father of spirits, in some sense, visible; it makes him, at least, a reality to the 492 EFFECTS OF CONVERSION. mind, or, in the language of Scripture, it enables men to feel and act as if they saw Him who is invisible. It brings God into the circle of objects by which we perceive ourselves to be surrounded; and in whatever circle he is seen, he will be seen to be the most important object in it. Now, if the sight of angels would effect a change in a man's character, much more will seeing the infinite God. His favor will appear all important, his anger dreadful; all other objects will, in a measure, lose their interest, and the man will be thought deluded, or visionary, or distracted. Suppose a man engaged in some enterprise, for the success of which he is exceedingly desirous. He is surrounded, we will suppose, by a number of persons who have it in their power, either to aid or oppose his designs. Knowing this, he will of course, make it his great object to secure their co-operation; or, at least, to induce them not to oppose him. Nov, suppose another person to be introduced into the circle around him, possessed of far greater power than any or all of these united, to aid or oppose his designs. This circumstance will produce a great alteration in his views and feelings. It will now be his great object to secure the assistance of this new and more powerful personage; and if he can obtain this, he will neither desire the aid nor fear the opposition of others. To apply this to the case of a sinner, living without God, in the world. He desires to be happy, and, for this purpose, to obtain those worldly objects which he deems necessary to happiness. He finds himself surrounded by creatures, who have power either to aid or oppose him in procuring these objects. Of course, his principal aim is, to avoid their opposition, and secure their friendship and assistance. Now, suppose this man to begin to realize that there is a God; a being who superintends, directs, and governs all creatures and events; who can make him happy without their assistance, or render him miserable, in defiance of all their endeavors to prevent it. Will not the introduction of such a being into the circle around him, produce a great alteration in his plans, his views, and feelings? Before this, he regarded creatures as every thing. Now, they will appear comparatively as nothing. Before, God was nothing to him. Now he will be all in all. SELF CONFIDENCE. 493 THE SELF-CONFIDENT. We see many who bid high, and seem to promise fair for heaven. They set out as if they would carry all before them, and say to Christ's people as Orpah did to her mother-in-law, Surely we will go with you. For a time they appear to run well. Like a flower plucked from its stalk, and placed in water, they look fair and flourishing. Many of their sins seem to be subdued, and many moral and religious duties are diligently practised. But at length a day of trial comes. Temptations assault them; the world opposes them; the sins which seemed to be dead revive; the effect of novelty wears off; the tumult of their feelings subsides; their little stock of zeal, and strength, and resolution, is exhausted; and they have never learned to apply to Christ for fresh supplies. Then it appears that they had no root in themselves. They begin to wither. Their blossoms fall off without producing fruit. They first grow weary, then faint, then utterly fall. He depended on himself, and not on Christ, on his own prom. ises and resolutions, and not on God's. Hence, when his own stock fails, as fail it must, he has nothing. Every one knows that no stream can rise higher than its fountain head. It is the same in religion-the stream that is to rise as high as heaven, must have its fountain head in heaven. It must flow from that river of life which issues out of the throne of God and of the Lamb, and from that river it must be fed, or it will dry up. If, with a careful and enlightened eye, we trace the path of a numerous church, we shall find it strewed with the fallen, the fainting, the slumbering, and the dead, who set out in their own strength, and have been stopped, ensnared and overthrown, by various obstacles and enemies. CHRISTIANS DISSIMILAR. We must not expect that all persons will see the truths of religion with equal distinctness, or feel an equal degree of joy, on being first brought from darkness into God's marvellous light. While some pass in a moment from the deepest distress and angulish, to the most rapturous emotions of joy and gratitude, others are introduced so gradually into the kingdom, that they are 494 TESTS OF PIETY. hardly able to tell when they entered it. The subject may be illustrated by the different views and emotions which would be excited in three blind persons, of whom one should be restored to sight at midnight, another at dawn, and a third amid the splendors of the meridian sun. The first, although his sight might be as perfectly restored as that of the others, would yet doubt, for some time, whether any change had been effected in him, and tremble, lest the faint outlines of the objects around him, which he so indistinctly discovered, should prove to be the creations of his own fancy. The second, although he might, at first, feel almost assured of the change which had been wrought upon him, would yet experience a gradually-increasing confidence and hope, as the light brightened around him, while the third, upon whose surprised and dazzled vision burst at once the refulgence of mid-day, would be transported, bewildered, and almost overwhelmed, with the excess of surprise, and joy, and gratitude. DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE CHRISTIAN AND THE SINNER. Suppose you have a child who frequently disobeys your commands, and neglects the duties which you require of him, yet, if this neglect and disobedience seem to proceed from thoughtlessness, rather than from a rebellious disposition; if he appears sincerely penitent, and every day comes and tells you, with tears in his eyes, "Father, I love you; I am sorry that I have done wrong; I am ashamed of myself, and wonder that you have patience to bear with me, and that you do not disinherit me;" —you would love and forgive such a child, and feel that there was hope of his reformation. But should your child say, or could you read the feeling in his heart, "Father, I cannot love you; I have never felt one emotion of love towards you; and I have no wish to obey your commands;" would you not say, his case is hopeless; there is nothing for me to work upon -no feeling, no affection, no desire to do right. Suppose you wished to separate a quantity of brass and steel filings, mixed together in one vessel, how would you effect this separation? Apply a loadstone, and immediately every particle of iron will attach itself to it, while the brass remains behind. FEAR AND HOPE. 495 Thus if we see a company of true and false professors of religion, we may not be able to distinguish between them; but let Christ come among them, and all his sincere followers will be attracted towards him, as the steel is drawn to the magnet, while those who have none of his spirit, will remain at a distance. Suppose we perceive a number of children playing together in the street, we could not, without previous knowledge, determine who are their parents, or where are their homes. But let one of therm receive an injury, or get into any trouble, and we learn who are his parents, for he immediately runs to them for relief. Thus it is with the Christian and the man of the world. While we observe them together, pursuing the same employments, and placed in the same circumstances, we may not be able at once to distinguish them. But let afflictions come upon them and we are no longer at a loss; the man'of the world seeks relief in earthly comforts, while the Christian flies to his heavenly Father, his refuge and support in the day of trouble. FEAR AND HOPE. True religion consists in a proper mixture of fear of God, and of hope in his mercy; and wherever either of these is entirely wanting, there can be no true religion. God has joined these things, and we ought by no means to put them asunder. He cannot take pleasure in those who fear him with a slavish fear, without hoping in his mercy, because they seem to consider him as a cruel and tyrannical being, who has no mercy or goodness in his nature: and, besides, they implicitly charge him with falsehood, by refusing to believe and hope in his invitations and offers of mercy. On the other hand, he cannot be pleased with those who pretend to hope in his mercy without fearing him; for they insult him by supposing that there is nothing in him which ought to be feared; and in addition to this, they make him a liar, by disbelieving his awful threatenings denounced against sinners, and call in question his authority, by refusing to obey him. Those only who both fear him and hope in his mercy, give himl the honor that is due to his name. 496 THE LAW HONORED. THE LAW HONORED IN THE SALVATION OF THE SINNER. That the gospel method of justification by faith in Christ secures the honor of the law, will appear evident if we consider the views and feelings which it requires of all who would be justified and saved by this method. These views and feelings, taken collectively, are called repentance and faith. Repentance consists in hatred of sin, and sorrow on account of it. Butt sin is a transgression of the law. The penitent then hates and mourns for every transgression of the law of which he has been guilty. But no man can sincerely hate and mourn over his transgressions of any law, unless he sees and feels that it is a just and good law. If he does not see this, if the law which he has transgressed appears in his view unjust, or not good, he will hate and condemn, not himself, but the law and the lawmaker. Every real penitent then sees and acknowledges that the law which he has violated, is holy, and just, and good and glorious; that he is justly condemned by it, and that he should have no reason to complain of God, if he were left to perish forever. He can say, I deserve the curse, and let no one ever think hardly of God, or of his law, though I should perish forever. And can those who exercise, or those who inculcate such feelings as these, be justly accused of making void, or of dishonoring the law? Do they not rather honor and establish it, by taking part with it against themselves, by saying, the law is right, and we only are wrong? To place this in a still clearer light, permit me to throw into the form of a dialogue, the feelings which a penitent, believing sinner exercises and expresses, when he applies to Christ to be justified or pardoned. Let us suppose the Saviour to say to such a person, as he did to those who applied to him for relief, while on earth, What wilt thou that I should do for thee? Save me, Lord, from my sins, and from the punishment which they deserve. In what do thy sins consist? They consist, Lord, in numberless transgressions of God's law. Is that law unjust? Lord, it is most just. Why, then, didst thou transgress it? Because, O Lord, my heart was rebellious and perverse. Canst thou offer no excuse, no plea of extenuation of thy sins? None, Lord; I am altogether without excuse, nor do I wish to offer any. Is not the punishment with which thou art threatened too severe? No, Lord, I de THE LAW HONORED. 497 serve it all; nor can I escape it but through thy rich mercy and sovereign grace. Such is, in effect, the language of every one who applies to Christ for salvation; such the feelings implied in the exercise of repentance and faith. The gospel method of justification sets before us new and powerful motives to obey the law. For instance, it presents God, the Lawgiver, in a new, and most interesting and affecting light. It shows him to us as the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, displaying the most wonderful compassion for our lost and guilty race, and so loving our revolted world, as to give his only begotten Son to die for its offences. Of all the attitudes in which God was ever revealed to his creatures, this is incormparably the most interesting and affecting. It is indeed interesting to view him as our Creator, our Sovereign, our Preserver and Benefactor; and we are sacredly bound to regard Him, in these characters, with gratitude, reverence and love. But how much more interesting to see him pitying the sorrows which our sins against Him had brought upon us, and taking his only Son out of his bosom,; to give him up as a ransom to redeem us from those sorrows! If God said to Abraham, Now I know that thou lovest me, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son, from me, well may we say to God, Lord, now we know that thou lovest us, that thou dost not willingly punish us, that thou hast no pleasure in our death, since thou hast given thy Son, thine only and well-beloved Son, to die on the cross for our sins. Thus the gospel method of salvation by revealing God to us in this most interesting and affecting light, powerfully urges us to love him, to love his law, to repent of having disobeyed it, and to obey it hereafter. Suppose human legislators could write their laws upon the hearts of their subjects. Would they not then secure obedience far more effectually than they can now do, by all the penalties which they annex to a violation of their laws? If they could give all their subjects a disposition to abhor murder, theft, injustice and fraud, would they not secure life and property in the most perfect manner? Just so, if the law of God can be written in men's hearts, if his love can be shed abroad in them, if they VOL. I. 63 498 ADAM OUR REPRESENTATIVE. can be made holy, it will secure obedience to that law far more effectually than all the thunders and lightnings of Sinai. ADAM OUR REPRESENTATIVE. It is sometimes asked, how it can be right that we should suffer in consequence of the sins of our first parents. In the first place; it is right because we imitate their example, and thus justify their conduct. We break the covenant, and disobey the law of God, as well as they. Another answer may be given by considering the subject in a different light. The angels who kept not their first estate, had no covenant head or representative, but each one stood for himself. Yet they fell. God was therefore pleased, when he made man, to adopt a different constitution of things; and since it had appeared that holy beings, endowed with every possible advantage for obeying God's law, would disobey it and ruin themselves, he thought proper, instead of leaving us, like the angels, to stand for ourselves, to appoint a covenant head or representative to stand for us, and to enter into covenant with him. Now, let us suppose for a moment, that we, and all the human race, had been brought into existence at once, and that God had proposed to us, that we should choose one of our number to be our representative, and to enter into covenant with him on our behalf. Should we not, with one voice, have chosen our first parent for this responsible office? Should we not have said, " Ie is a perfect man, and bears the image and likeness of God? If any one must stand or fall for us, let him be the man." Now, since the angels, who stood for themselves, fell, why should we wish to stand for ourselves? And if we must have a representative to stand for us, why should we complain, when God has chosen the same person for this office, that we should have chosen, had we been in existence, and capable of choosing for ourselves? CHRIST OUR REPRESENTATIVE. Christ " bore our sins" in the same sense in which the Jewish sacrifices, under the law, were said to bear the sins of him in whose behalf they were presented. The lamb which was offered, did not itself become a sinner; and as little did Christ, our great Sacrifice, become sinful by bearing our sins. When, there fre, it is said that God laid on him the iniquities of us all, PSALM LXXXV. 10, 11. 499 and that he bore our sins in his own body on the tree, the meaning is, that God laid on him, and that he bore the punishment which our sins deserved. Our sins were, by his own consent, imputed to him, or as the word signifies, laid to his account: and he, in consequence, though innocent, was treated as a sinner. PSALM LXXXV. 10 II1. It is a maxim in divine, as well as in human laws, that what a man does by another, he does by himself. Now, in and by Christ, their surety, all who believe have done and suffered every thing which the divine law, and consequently which justice, required. In him, they have obeyed the law perfectly, in him, they have suffered the curse which is due to sin. He was made sin for them, they are made righteous in him; and thus he is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth. The law of God is more highly honored by the obedience, and the justice of God more clearly displayed in the sufferings, of so exalted a personage, than they could have been by the obedience or the sufferings of the whole human race. Then, in the plan of redemption, God appears to be, at once, a just God and a Saviour; thus he can be just and yet the justifier of him that believeth in Jesus; and justice and truth, as well as mercy and peace, will welcome to heaven every redeemed sinner who is brought there through the merits of Christ. Thus we see that these divine attributes, which were set at variance by the fall of the first Adam, are re-united and satisfied by the atonement of the second. Mercy may now say, I am satisfied, for my petitions inbehalfof wretched man have been answered, and countless millions of that ruined race will sing the praises of boundless mercy forever and ever. Truth may say, I am satisfied, for God's veracity and faithfulness remain inviolate, notwithstanding the salvation of sinners; and not one word that he has ever spoken, has failed of its full accomplishment. Justice may say, I am satisfied, for the honor of the law over which I watch, has been secured; sin has met with deserved punishment; the Prince of life has died to satisfy my claims; and God has shown the whole universe that he loves me, even better than he loves his only Son; for when that Son cried, in agony, Father, spare me, and I demanded that he should not be 500 GROUND S OF PARDON. spared, God listened to my demands rather than to his cries. Finally, Peace may say, I am satisfied, for I have been permitted to proclaim peace on earth, and have seen God reconciling a rebellious world to himself. Come, then, my sister attributes, Mercy, Truth and Righteousness, let us once more be united in perfec harmony, and join to admire the plan which thus reconciles us to each other. SINNERS PARDONED FOR CHRIST'S SAKE. It was highly proper that the unexampled benevolence, humility, and other graces which Christ displayed in condescending to obey, suffer and die, in our stead, should receive from his righteous Father a suitable reward; and that God should manifest, in a signal and illustrious manner, his approbation of such unequalled goodness, to all his intelligent creatures. But the. Son of God neither needed, nor could receive any reward for himself; for he is the brightness of the Father's glory, and the express image of his person, and possesses in the highest degree, all possible perfection, glory, and felicity. Since, therefore, it was necessary that Christ should be rewarded, and since he needed no reward for himself, his Father was pleased, in the covenant of redemption, to promise him what would be to his benevolent heart the greatest of all rewards. He promised him that if he would make his soul an offering for sin, he should have a seed and people to serve him; and that all his spiritual seed, all his chosen people, who were given him by his Father, should, for his sake, and as a reward of his obedience, suffering and death, be saved from the guilt and power of sin, be adopted as the children of God, made joint heirs with Christ of the heavenly inheritance, and receive, through him, every thing necessary to prepare and qualify them for its enjoyment. Thus God bestows everlasting life, glory and felicity on guilty rebels, merely for the sake of Christ, and with a view to convince all intelligent beings, that he is infinitely well pleased witll the holy benevolence which his Son displayed, when he consented to die in their stead. PERFECTIONS OF GOD DISPLAYED IN THE PLAN OF REDEMPTION. There is more of God, more of his essential glory displayed PLAN OF REDEMPTION. 501 in bringing one sinner to repentance, and forgiving his sins, than in all the wonders of creation. In this work, creatures may see, if I may so express it, the very heart of God. From this work, angels themselves have probably learned more of God's moral character than they had ever been able to learn before. They knew before that God was wise and powerful; for they had seen him create a world. They knew that he was good; for he had made them perfectly holy and happy. They knew that he was just; for they had seen him cast down their own rebellious brethren from heaven to hell for their sins. But until they saw him give repentance and remission of sins through Christ, they did not know that he was merciful; they did not know that he could pardon a sinner. And 0! what an hour was that in heaven when this great truth was first made known; when the first penitent was pardoned! Then a new song was put into the mouths of angels; and while, with unutterable emotions of wonder, love, and praise, they began to sing it, their voices swelled to a higher pitch, and they experienced joys unfelt before. 0 how did the joyful sounds, His mercy endureth forever, spread from choir to choir, echo through the high arches of heaven, and thrill through every enraptured angelic breast; and how did they cry, with one voice, Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace, and good will to man! On no page less ample than that of the eternal, all-enfolding mind which devised the gospel plan of salvation, can its glories be displayed; nor by any inferior mind can they be fully comprehended. Suffice it to say, that here the moral character of Jehovah shines full-orbed and complete -here all the fulness of the Godhead, all the insufferable splendors of Deity burst, at once, upon our aching sight. Here the manifold perfections of God, holiness and goodness, justice and mercy, truth and grace, majesty and condescension, hatred of sin and compassion for sinners, are harmoniously blended, like the party-colored rays of solar light, in one pure blaze of dazzling whiteness-here, rather than on any other of his works, he founds his claims to the highest admiration, gratitude, and love of his creatures-here is the work which ever has called forth, and which- through eternity will continue to call forth, the most rapturous praises of the celestial choirs, and feed the ever-glowing fires of devo 502 THE WORLD WITHOUT CHRIST. tion in their breasts; for the glory which shines in the gospel, is the glory which illuminates heaven, and the Lamb that was slain is the light thereof. CONDITION OF THE WORLD WITHOUT A SAVIOUR. Would you learn the full extent of that wretchedness which sin tends to produce, you must follow it into the eternal world and descend into those regions where peace, where hope never comes; and there, by the light of revelation, behold sin tyrannizing over its wretched victims with uncontrollable fury; fanning the inextinguishable fire, and sharpening the tooth of the immortal worm. See angels and archangels, thrones and dominions, principalities and powers, stripped of all their primeval glory and beauty, bound in eternal chains, and burning with rage and malice against that Being, in whose presence they once rejoiced, and whose praises they once sung. See multitudes of the human race, in unutterable agonies of anguish and despair, cursing the gift, the Giver and Prolonger of their existence, and vainly wishing for annihilation, to put a period to their miseries. Follow them through the long, long ages of eternity, and see them sinking deeper and deeper in the bottomless abyss of ruin, perpetually blaspheming God because of their plagues, and receiving the punishment of these blasphemies in continued additions to their wretchedness. Such are the wages of sin; such the doom of the finally impenitent. From these depths of anguish and despair, look up to the mansions of the blessed, and see to what a height of glory and felicity the grace of God will raise every sinner that repentcth. See those who are thus favored in unutterable ecstasies of joy, love and praise, contemplating God, face to face, reflecting his perfect image, shining with a splendor like that of their glorious Redeemer, filled with all the fulness of Deity, and bathing in those rivers of pleasure which flow forever at God's right hand. Follow them in their endless flight towards perfection. See them rapidly mounting from height to height, darting onward with increasing swiftness, and unwearied wing, towards that infinity which they will never reach. View this, and then say whether infinite holiness and benevolence may not, with propriety, rejoice over every sinner that repelteth. THE GOSPEL GLAD TIDINGS. 503 Do any doubt whether the gospel is indeed glad tidings of great joy? Come with me to the garden of Eden. Look back to the hour which succeeded man's apostasy. See the golden chain which bound man to God, and God to man, sundered, apparently forever, and this wretched world, groaning under the weight of human guilt, and its Maker's curse, sinking down, far down, into a bottomless abyss of misery and despair. See that tremendous Being who is a consuming fire, encircling it on every side, and wrapping it, as it were, in an atmosphere of flame. Hear from his lips the tremendous sentence, Man has sinned, and man must die. See the king of terrors advancing with gigantic strides to execute the awful sentence, the grave expanding her marble jaws to receive whatever might fall before his wide-wasting scythe, and hell beneath, yawning dreadful, to engulf forever its guilty, helpless, despairing victims. Such was the situation of our ruined race after the apostasy. Endeavor, if you can, to realize its horrors. Endeavor, to forget, for a moment, that you ever heard of Christ or his gospel. View yourselves as immortal beings hastening to eternity, with the curse of God's broken law, like a flaming sword, pursuing you; death, with his dart dipped in mortal poison, awaiting you; a dark cloud, fraught with the lightnings of divine vengeance, rolling over your heads; your feet standing in slippery places, in darkness, and the bottomless pit beneath expecting your fall. Then, when not only all hope, but all possibility of escape, seemed taken away, suppose the flaming sword suddenly quenched; the sting extracted; the sun of righteousness bursting forth and painting a rainbow on the before threatening cloud; a golden ladder let down from the opening gates of heaven, while a choir of angels, swiftly descending, exclaim, Behold, we bring you glad tidings of great joy, for unto you is born a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord. Would you, could you, while contemplating such a scene, and listening to the angelic message, doubt whether it communicated glad tidings? Would you not rather unite with them in exclaiming, Glad tidings! Glad tidings! Glory to God in the highest, that there is peace on earth, and good will to men? CHRIST OUR EXA IPLE. It was highly important and desirable that our great High 504 CHRIST OUR EXAMPLE. Priest should not only obtain for us the heavenly inheritance but also go before us, in the path which leads to it; that he should not only describe Christianity in his discourses, but exemplify it in his life and conversation. This our blessed Saviour has done. In him we see pure and undefiled religion imbodied. In him Christianity lives and breathes. And how amiable, how interesting does she there appear! How convincing, how animating is our Saviour's example! How loudly, how persuasively does his conduct preach! Would you learn submission to parental authority? See him, notwithstanding his exalted character, cheerfully subjecting himself to the will of his parents, and laboring with them, as a mechanic, for almost thirty years. Would you learn contentment with a poor and low condition? See him destitute of a place where to lay his head. Would you learn active beneficence!. See him going about doing good. Would you learn to be fervent and constant in devotional exercises? See him rising for prayer before the dawn of day. Would you learn in what manner to treat your brethren? See him washing his disciples' feet. Would you learn filial piety? See him forgetting his sufferings, while in the agonies of death, to provide another son for his desolate mother. Would you learn in what manner to pray for relief under afflictions? See him in the garden. Would you learn how to bear insults and injuries? See him on the cross. In short, there is no Christian grace or virtue, which it was proper for a perfectly innocent being to possess, which is not beautifully exemplified in his life; and there is scarce any situation, however perplexing, in which the Christian, who is at a loss to know how he ought to act, may not derive sufficient instruction from the example of his divine Master. CHRIST A TEACHER. A celebrated philosopher of antiquity, who was accustomed to receive large sums from his pupils, in return for his instructions, was one day accosted by an indigent youth, who requested admission into the number of his disciples. "And what," said the sage, "will you give me in return? I will give you myself," was the reply; "I accept the gift," answered the sage, "and engage to restore you to yourself, at some future period, much more valuable than you are at present." In similar lan REASONS FOR LOVING CHRIST. 505 guage does our great Teacher address those who apply to him for instruction, conscious that they are unable to purchase his instructions, and offering to give him themselves. He will readily accept the gift; he will educate them for heaven, and will, at length, restore them to themselves, incomparably more wise, more happy, and more valuable, than when he received them. SONG OF SOLOMON, V. 9. Does not our Friend as far excel all other friends, as heaven exceeds earth, as eternity exceeds time, as the Creator surpasses his creatures. If you doubt this, bring together all the glory, pomp and beauty of the world; nay, assemble every thing that is great and excellent in all the worlds that ever were created; collect all the creatures which the breath of Omnipotence ever summoned into being- and we, on our parts, will place beside them our Saviour and Friend, that you may see whether they will bear a comparison with him. Look, then, first at your idols; behold the vast assemblage which you have collected, and then turn and contemplate our Beloved. See all the fulness of the Godhead, dwelling in one who is meek and lowly as a child. See his countenance beaming with ineffable glories, full of mingled majesty, condescension and love, and hear the soulreviving invitations which proceed from his lips. See that hand in which dwells everlasting strength, swaying the sceptre of universal empire over all creatures and all worlds; see his arms expanded to receive and embrace returning sinners, while his heart, a bottomless, shoreless ocean of benevolence, overflows with tenderness, compassion, and love. In a word, see in him all natural and moral excellence, personified, and embodied in a resplendent form, compared with whose effulgent, dazzling glories, the splendors of the meridian sun are dark. He speaks, and a world emerges from nothing. He frowns, and it sinks to nothing again. He waves his hand, and all the creatures which you have collected to rival him, sink and disappear. Such, 0 sinner, is our Beloved, and such is our Friend. Will you not then embrace him as your Friend? If you can be persuaded to do this, you will find that the one half, nay, that the thousandth part has not been told you. VOL. I. 64 506 INVITATIONS OF CHRIST. All the excellency, glory and beauty, which is found in men or angels, flows from Christ, as a drop of water from the ocean, or a ray of light from the sun. If, then, you supremely love the creature, can you wonder that Christians should love the Creator? If you admire an image in a glass, is it strange that they should admire the sun by which it was painted? Can you wonder that those who behold the glory of God, in the face of Jesus Christ, should be sweetly drawn to him by the cords of love, and lose their fondness for created glories? All that you love and admire, and wish for, in creatures, and indeed infinitely more, they find in him. Do you wish for a friend possessed of power to protect you.? Our Friend possesses all power in heaven and earth, and is able to save even to the uttermost. Do you wish for a wise and experienced friend? In Christ are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Do you wish for a tender, compassionate friend? Christ is tenderness and compassion itself. Do you wish for a faithful; unchangeable friend? With Christ there is no variableness, nor shadow of turning; but he is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. His unchangeable love will ever prompt him to make his people happy; his unerring wisdom will point out the best means to promote their happiness; and his infinite power will enable him to employ those means. In all these respects, our Beloved is more than another beloved; for creatures are not always disposed to render us happy: when they are disposed to do it, they do not always know how; and when they know how, they are often unable. Better is it, therefore, to trust in Christ, than to put confidence in princes. INVITATIONS OF CHRIST TO THE WEARY AND OPPRESSED. To all who are afflicted either in body, mind or estate; all whose worldly hopes and prospects have been blasted by losses and disappointments; all who are weeping over the grave of some near and dear relative; the language of Christ is, Cast your burden upon me, and I will sustain thee; call upon me now in the day of trouble, and I will answer thee. You have found that earthly friends and relations die;-come, then, to me, and find a Friend who cannot die; one who will never leave nor forsake you, in life or death. You have found that treasures laid up on earth, make to themselves wings and fly CHRIST'S DISPLEASURE AT SIN. 507 away;-come, then, to me, and I will give you treasures which never fail, and make you heirs of the heavenly inheritance. No longer spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which satisfieth not; but hearken diligently to my call, and come unto me; hear, and your souls shall live; and I will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure mercies of David. CHRIST'S DISPLEASURE AT SIN. We read of Christ's being angry but three times during the whole period of his residence on earth, and in each of those instances, his anger was excited not by insults or injuries offered to himself, but by conduct which tended to interrupt or frustrate his benevolent exertions in doing good. When he was reviled as a man gluttonous, intemperate, and possessed by a devil, he was not angry; when he was buffeted, spit upon, and crowned with thorns, he was not angry; when nailed to the cross, and loaded with insults in his last agonies, he was not angry. But when his disciples forbade parents to bring their infant children to receive his blessing; when Peter endeavored to dissuade him from dying for sinners; and when sinners, by their hardness of heart, rendered his intended death of no service to themselves; then he was angry and much displeased. Suppose a person whom you had found deserted in the streets when an infant, and adopted and educated as your own, should, when arrived to manhood, rob and attempt to murder you. Suppose him tried, convicted, condemned, and confined to await the execution of his sentence. You pity him, forgive him, and wish to save his life. You fly to the proper authority, and after much expense and labor, obtain an assurance that if he will confess his crime, he shall be pardoned. You hasten to his dungeon to communicate the happy intelligence. But he refuses to hear you, believe you, or confess his fault; regards you with aversion, suspicion or contempt, and turns a deaf ear to your prayers and entreaties. Would you not be unutterably shocked, disappointed and grieved? What, then, must be the feelings of Christ, when treated in a similar manner by those whom he died to save! Well may he look on them with anger, being grieved for the hardness of their hearts. 508 DEATH OF CHRIST. Come with us a moment to Calvary. See the meek sufferer standing, with hands fast bound, in the midst of his enemies, sinking under the weight of his cross, and lacerated in every part, by the thorny reeds with which he had been scourged. See the savage, ferocious soldiers raising, with rude violence, his sacred body, forcing it down upon the cross, wresting and extending his limbs, and, with remorseless cruelty, forcing through his hands and feet the ragged spikes which were to fix him on it. See the Jewish priests and rulers watching, with looks of malicious pleasure, the horrid scene, and attempting to increase his sufferings by scoffs and blasphemies. Now contemplate attentively the countenance of the wonderful sufferer, which seems like heaven opening in the midst of hell, and tell me what it expresses. You see it indeed full of anguish, but it expresses nothing like impatience, resentment or revenge. On the contrary, it beams with pity, benevolence, and forgiveness. It perfectly corresponds with the prayer, which, raising his mild, imploring eyes to heaven, he pours forth to God-Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do. Christian, look at your Master, and learn how to suffer. Sinner, look at your Saviour, and learn to admire, to imitate, and to forgive. SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. It has been supposed by many, that the sufferings of Christ were rather apparent than real; or at least that his abundant consolations, and his knowledge of the happy consequences which would result from his death, rendered his sorrows comparatively light, and almost converted them to joys. But never was supposition more erroneous. Jesus Christ was as truly a man as either of us; and, as man, he was as really susceptible of grief, as keenly alive to pain and reproach, and as much averse from pain and suffering, as any of the descendants of Adam. As to divine consolation and supports, they were at all times bestowed on him in a very sparing manner, and in the season of his greatest extremity entirely withheld; and though a knowledge of the happy consequences which would result from his sufferings rendered him willing to endure them, it did not in the smallest degree take off their edge, or render him insensible to pain. No, his sufferings, instead of being less, were incomparably greater than they appeared to be. No finite LOVE OF CHRIST. 509 mind can conceive of their extent, nor was any of the human race ever so well entitled to the appellation of the man of sorrows, as the man Jesus Christ. As Christ died for all, so he felt and wept for the sufferings of all. The temporal and eternal calamities of the whole human race, and of every individual among them all, seemed to be collected and laid upon him. He saw, at one view, the whole mighty aggregate'of human goilt and human wretchedness, and his boundless benevolence and compassion made it; by sympathy, all his own. It has been said by philosophers, that if any man could see all the misery which is daily felt in the world, he would never smile again. We need not wonder then, that Christ, who saw it all, never smiled, though he often wept. LOVE OF CHRIST. In order to form some faint conception of the love of Christ, suppose, my Christian friends, that all your toils and sufferings were ended, and you were safely arrived in heaven, the rest which remains for the people of God. Suppose that you were there crowned with glory, and honor, and immortality, listening with unutterable ecstacies to the song of the redeemed, contemplating the ineffable, unveiled glories of Jehovah, drinking full draughts from those rivers of pleasure which flow forever at his right hand, and tasting those joys which the heart of man hath not conceived. What would tempt you to revisit this vale of tears, commence anew the wearisome journey of life, and encounter all the toils, the temptations, th.e sufferings and sorrows which attend it? Must it not be love stronger than death, love such as you cannot conceive of, which would induce you to do this? How infinite, how inconceivable, then, must have been that love which brought down the Son of God from the celestial world to redeem our ruined race! which led him to exchange the bosom of his Father for a veil of flesh; the adoration of angels for the scoffs and insults of sinners; and the enjoyment of eternal life for an accursed, painful and ignominious death! Nothing but love could have done this. Not all the powers of heaven, earth and hell combined, could have dragged him from his celestial throne, and wrested the sceptre of the universe from his hands. No, it was love alone, divine, omnipotent love, 510 SELF-DENIAL OF CHRIST. which drew him down; it was in the bands of love that he was led a willing captive, through all the toils and sufferings of a laborious life; and it was these bands which bound him at the bar of Pilate, which fettered his arm of everlasting strength, and prevented his blasting his murderers. Unless we could ascend into heaven, and see the glory and happiness which our Redeemer left; unless we could descend into the grave, and learn the depths of wretchedness to which he sank; unless we could weigh, as in a balance, all the trials, toils and sufferings of his life; never, never can we know the immeasurable extent of his love. But these things we cannot do. None but the omniscient God knows what he felt, or what he suffered; none but the omniscient God, therefore, knows the extent of his love. To think of the love of Christ, is like trying to conceive of existence which has no beginning, and of power which can make something of nothing. Tongue cannot describe it; finite minds cannot conceive of it; angels faint under it; and those who know most of it cal only say, with inspiration, that it passeth knowledge. SELF-DENIAL OF CHRIST. The life of Christ was one of self-denial. He denied himself, for thirty years, all the glories and felicity of the heavenly world; and exposed himself to all the pains and sorrows of a life on earth. He denied himself the praises and adorations of saints and angels; and exposed himself to the blasphemies and reproaches of men. He denied himself the presence and enjoyment of God; and exposed himself to the society of publicans and sinners. He denied himself every thing that nature desires; he exposed himself to every thing she dreads and abhors; to poverty, contempt, pain and death. When he entered on his glorious and godlike design, he renounced all regard to his own comfort and convenience, and took up the cross, a cross infinitely heavier and more painful than any of his disciples had been called to bear, and continued to carry it through a rough and thorny road, till his human nature, exhausted, sunk under the weight. In short, he considered himself, his time, his tal CH RIST'S PEW ARD. 511 ents, his reputation, his happiness, his very existence, as not his own, but another's; and he ever employed them accordingly. He lived not for himself, he died not for himself; but for others he lived, and for others he died. HE SHALL SEE OF THE TRAVAIL OF HIS SOUL. How great, how inconceivable will be our Saviour's happiness, after the final consummation of all things! Then the plan for which our world was formed will be completed. Then every member of the church, for the sake of which he loved and visited our world, will have been brought home to heaven, to be with him where he is. And if he loved, and rejoiced, and delighted in them before they existed, and before they knew and loved him, how will he love and rejoice in them when he sees them surrounding his throne, perfectly resembling himself in body and soul; loving him with unutterable love, contemplating him with ineffable delight, and praising him as their deliverer from sin, and death, and hell; as the author of all their everlasting glory and felicity! Then,-O blessed, animating thought! —he will be amply rewarded for all his sufferings, and for all his love to our ruined race; then his people shall cease to grieve and offend him; then they shall no longer degrade him by weak, confused, inadequate conceptions of his person, character, and work; for then shall they see as they are seen, and know even as they are known. Then the whole church shall be presented to him, a glorious church, without spot or blemish, or imperfection; and shall be as a crown of glory in the hand of the Lord, and as a royal diadem in the hand of our God. Then, 0 Zion, as a bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so shall thy God rejoice over thee. Then shall thy sun no more go down, nor thy moon withdraw itself; but the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and thy God, thy glory; and the days of thy mourning, and of thy Saviour's suffering, shall be ended. If we love, and prize, and rejoice in any object, in proportion to the labor, pain, and expense which it has cost us to obtain it, how greatly must Christ love, and prize, and rejoice in every penitent sinner! His love and joy must be unutterable, inconceivable, infinite. For once, I rejoice that our Saviour's toils and sufferings were so great, since the greater they were, the 512 CONDESCENSION OF CHRIST. greater must be his love for us, and his joy in our conversion. And if he thus rejoiceth over one sinner that repenteth, what must be his joy, when all his people are collected, out of every tongue, and kindred, and people, and nation, and presented spotless before his Father's throne! What a full tide of felicity will pour in upon him, and how will his benevolent heart expand with unutterable delight, when, contemplating the countless myriads of the redeemed, he says, Were it not for my sufferings, all these immortal beings would have been, throughout eternity, as miserable, and now they will be as happy, as God can make them! It is enough. I see of the travail of my soul, and am satisfied. CONDESCENSION AND LOVE OF CHRIST. The meanest beggar, the vilest wretch, the most loathsome, depraved, abandoned sinner, is perfectly welcome to the arms and the heart of the Saviour, if he comes with the temper of the penitent prodigal. To all who come with this temper, he ever lends a gracious ear; he listens to catch the first penitential sigh; he watches their first feeble step towards the path.of duty; he prevents them with his grace, hastens to meet them, and while they are ready to sink at his feet with mingled shame, confusion and grief, he puts underneath them his everlasting arms, embraces, cheers, supports and comforts them; wipes away their tears, washes away their stains, clothes them with his righteousness, unites them to himself forever, and feeds them with the bread and water of life. Thus he binds up the broken reed, enkindles the smoking flax, and, like a most tender, compassionate shepherd, gathers the helpless lambs in his arms, and carries them in his bosom. Thus, by the condescending grace of our Immanuel, heaven is brought down to earth; the awful majesty, and inaccessible glories of Jehovah, are shrouded in a veil of flesh; a new and living way is opened for our return to God; and sinful, guilty worms of the dust may talk with their Maker face to face, as a man talketh with his friend. Trembling sinner, desponding Christian, permit me to take you by the hand and lead you to Jesus. Why do you linger, why do you hang back? It is to Christ, it is to Jesus, it is to LANGUAGE OF PENITENCE. 513 the Babe of Bethlehem, to a man like yourselves, to the meek and lowly Saviour of sinners, that I would bring you. Here are no terrors, no flaming sword, no burning throne to appal you. Come, then, to his feet, to his arms, to his heart, which overflows with compassion for your perishing souls. Come and contemplate the glory of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth, and receive of his fulness grace for grace. COMPASSION AND CONDESCENSION OF CHRIST. Fear not, says the Saviour to his penitent, heart-broken disciple. Fear not, trembling, desponding soul. My glory, my perfections need not alarm thee, for they are all engaged on thy side, all pledged to secure thy salvation. Tell me not of thy sins. I will take them away. Tell me not of thy weakness, thy folly and ignorance. I have treasures of wisdom and knowledge, and strength for thee. Tell me not of the weakness of thy graces. My grace is sufficient for thee, for its riches are unsearchable. Tell me not of the difficulties which oppose thy salvation. Is any thing too hard for me? Tell me not that the favors thou art receiving are too great for thee. I know they are too great for thee to merit, but they are not too great for me to give. Nay, more, I will give thee greater things than these. I will not only continue to pardon thy sins, bear with thine infirmities, and heal thy backslidings; but give thee larger and larger measures of my grace, make thee more and more useful in the world, render thee more than a conqueror over all thine enemies, and at death wipe away forever all thy tears; receive thee to the mansions which my Father has prepared for thee in heaven, and cause thee to sit down with me on my throne forever and ever. Thus does Christ comfort those that mourn; thus he encourages the desponding, thus exalts those that humble themselves at his feet; and constrains them to cry, in admiring transports of gratitude and love, Who, O who is a God like unto thee, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin? DEPART FROM ME, FOR I AM A SINFUL MAN, O LORD. As our views of our own sinfulness, and of the abominable malignity of sin, are always in direct proportion to our views of the divine purity and glory, the Christian never appears to himself so unspeakably vile, so totally unworthy of his Saviour's VOL. I. 65 514 LANGUAGE OF PENITENCE. love, or so unfit to enjoy his presence, as at the very time when he is favored with these blessings, in the highest degree. The consequence is that he is astonished, confounded, crushed and overwhelmed by a display of goodness so undeserved, so unexpected. When he has perhaps been ready to conclude that he was a vile hypocrite, and to give up all for lost; or, if not to fear that God would bring upon him some terrible judgment for his sins, and make him an example to others- then to see his much-insulted Saviour, his neglected Benefactor, his injured Friend, suddenly appear to deliver him from the consequences of his own folly and ingratitude; to see him come with smiles and blessings, when he expected nothing but upbraidings, threatenings, and scourges-it is too much; he knows not how to bear it; he scarcely dares take the consolation offered him; he thinks it must be all a delusion. Even when convinced beyond a doubt, that it is not so; when he feels the healing virtue of his kind Physician, pervading his whole soul, and sees him stooping to cleanse, to comfort, and embrace him, he shrinks back, involuntarily, as if the spotless Saviour would be contaminated by his touch; sinks down ashamed and broken-hearted at his feet; feels unworthy and unable to look up; and the more condescendingly Christ stoops to embrace him, so much lower and lower does he sink in the dust. At length his emotions find utterance, and he cries, O Lord, treat me not thus kindly. Such favors belong to those, only, who do not requite thy love as I have done. How can it be just, how can it be right to give them to one so undeserving? Thy kindness is lavished upon me in vain; thy mercies are thrown away upon one so incorrigibly vile. If thou pardon me now, I shall offend thee again; if thou heal my backslidings, I shall again wander from thee; if thou cleanse me, I shall again become polluted: thou must, O Lord, give me up - thou must leave me to perish, and bestow thy favors on those who are less unworthy, less incurably prone to offend thee. Such are often the feelings of the broken-hearted penitent; thus does he shrink from the mercy which pursues him, thus seems to plead against himself; and, though he desires and prizes nothing so much as his Saviour's presence, feels constrained by a sense of his vileness and pollution, to ask him, and almost wish him to depart, and leave him to the fate which he so richly deserves. JOY OF COMMUNING WITH GOD. 515 JOY OF COMMUNING WITH GOD. At times, God is pleased to admit his children to nearer approaches, and more intimate degrees of fellowship with himself and his Son, Jesus Christ. He sends down the spirit of adoption into their hearts, whereby they are enabled to cry Abba, Father! and to feel those lively affections of love, joy, trust, hope, reverence and dependence, which it is at once their duty and their happiness to exercise towards their Father in heaven. By the influences of the same Spirit he shines into their minds, to give them the light of the knowledge of the glory of God, in the face of Jesus Christ; causes his glory to pass before them, and makes them, in some measure, to understand the perfections of his nature. He also reveals to them the unutterable, inconceivable, unheard of things, which he has prepared for those who love him; applies to them his exceeding great and precious promises; makes them to know that great love wherewith he has loved them, and thus causes them to rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory. He shines in upon their souls with the dazzling, melting, overpowering beams of grace and mercy proceeding from the Sun of righteousness, gives them to know the heights and the depths, the lengths and the breadths, of the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, and fills them with all the fulness of God. The Christian, in these bright, enraptured moments, while thus basking in beams of celestial light and splendor, forgets himself, forgets his existence, and is wholly absorbed in the ravishing, the ecstatic contemplation of uncreated beauty and loveliness. He endeavors to plunge himself into the boundless ocean of divine glory which opens to his view, and longs to be wholly swallowed up and lost in God. His whole soul goes forth in one intense flame of gratitude, admiration, love and desire. He contemplates, he wonders, he admires, he loves and adores. His soul dilates itself beyond its ordinary capacity, and expands to receive the flood of happiness which overwhelms it. All its desires are satisfied. It no longer inquires, who will show us any good, but returns unto its rest, because the Lord hath dealt bountifully with it. The scanty, noisy, thirst-producing streams of worldly delight only increase the feverish desires of the soul; but the tide of joy which flows 516 CALL TO CHRISTIANS. in upon the Christian, is silent, deep, full and satisfying. All the powers and faculties of his mind are lost, absorbed, and swallowed up in the contemplation of infinite glory. With an energy and activity unknown before, he roams and ranges through the ocean of light and love, where he can neither find a bottom nor'a shore. No language can utter his feelings; but, with an emphasis, a meaning, an expression, which God alone could excite, and which he alone can understand, he breathes out the ardent emotions of his soul, in broken words, while he exclaims, my Father and my God. TO CHRISTIANS IN THE COMMENCEMENT OF A REVIVAL. Yes, 0 Christian, whoever you are, however tempted and distressed, however languishing and despairing you may be, the Master is come, and calleth for thee. He does, as it were, call thee by name, for he knows the names of his sheep; they are engraven on the palms of his hands, and he cannot forget them. His language is, Where is this, and that, and the other one, among my flock, who used to watch for the tokens of my approach, and come at the sound of my voice? Why do they not come to welcome my return, and rejoice in my presence? Have they backslidden and wandered from my fold? Go, and tell them that their Shepherd is come, and calleth for them. Say unto them, How long will ye go about, 0 backsliding people Return unto me, and I will heal your backslidings. Are they tempted and distressed? Go, and tell them that their High Priest and Intercessor, one who has been in all points tempted like as they are, and who can therefore be touched with the feeling of their infirmities, is come, and calleth for them to spread their temptations and afflictions before him. Are they borne down with a load of guilt, and the weight of their sins against me, so that they are ashamed to look me in the face? Tell them that I will receive them graciously, and love them freely. Are they carried away by their spiritual enemies, and bound in the fetters of vice, so that they cannot come to welcome me? Tell them that I am come to proclaim deliverance to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound; to rescue the lambs of my flock from the paw of the lion and the jaws of the bear. Are they oppressed with fears that they shall one day perish by the hand of their enemies? CALL TO CHRISTIANS. 517 Go and tell them that my sheep never perish, and that none shall finally pluck them out of my hand. Are they slumbering and sleeping, insensible of my approach? Go and awake them with the cry, Behold the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him. It is profitable for the children of God often to reflect on what they formerly were, to meditate on their once wretched and helpless condition, to look to the rock whence they were hewn, and to the pit whence they were digged. Look back, then, Christians, to the time when you, who are now the children of God, the members of Christ, and the temples of the Holy Spirit, were the enemies of God, the despisers of his Son, and the willing slaves of the father of lies, who wrought in you as children of disobedience; when your hearts were hard as the nether millstone, your understandings darkened and alineated from the life of God; your wills stubborn, perverse and rebellious; your affections madly bent on the pleasures of sin; and every imagination of the thoughts of your hearts was evil only, and continually evil. Look back with shame and self-abhorrence to the time when you lived without God in the world, when you drank in iniquity like water, serving diverse lusts and vanities, and fulfilling the desires of the flesh and the mind; casting God's law behind your backs, stifling the remonstrances of conscience quenching the influences of the divine Spirit, neglecting the Holy Scriptures, and coming to the house of God, from Sabbath to Sabbath, not to honor him in the assembly of his saints, or to learn your duty, -but to mock him wifh pretended worship, while youm hearts were far from him. How many calls and invitations did you there slight! How many sermons did you hear as though you heard not! How many prayers were offered up in your presence, while you, perhaps, never considered, for a moment, in what you were engaged, but suffered your thoughts to wander to the ends of the earth! Even then, God was watching over you for good; and yet how ungratefully did you requite him! How many mercies did you receive without making one grateful acknowledgment! How did you strive to provoke him to jealousy, and lead him, if possible, to alter his gracious designs in your favor! A rebel against God, a crucifier of Christ, a resister of the divine Spirit, a slave of Satan, a child of wrath, an heir of hell;-such, 0 Christian, was once thy character; and nothing, in human view, was then before thee, but a fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation, 518 UNION WITH CHRIST. When we remember an absent friend, we usually think with deep interest of the place where he is, of the business in which he is engaged, and of the time when we shall meet him. Christians, you know where your Master is. You know what he is doing. You know that he now appears in the presence of God for you; that he ever liveth to make intercession for you; and that, ere long, you shall see him and be with him. Think tLen, much and often, of the heaven where he resides, of the perfect wisdom, fidelity, and constancy, with which he there manages your concerns..Remember that he watches for you while you sleep; that he labors for you while you are idle; that he intercedes for you, even while you are sinning against him. Will you, then, ever sin? Will you, while awake, ever be idle? Will you be unfaithful, or slothful in laboring for him, while he is ever active and faithful in promoting your interests CHRISTIANS, MEMBER'S OF THE BODY OF CHRIST. Since Christ is the head of the body of which Christians are members, he has a right to expect the same services from them, which we expect from our members. Now what we expect from our members is, that every one, in its proper place, should perform the services allotted it; executing the purposes, and obeying the commands of the head. We do not expect that each member should have a separate will, or pursue a separate interest, or act in any respect as if it were independent. If any part of our bodies does not fulfil these expectations, and yield prompt and implicit obedience to our will, we conclude it to be diseased; and if the acts of the will produce no effect upon it, we conclude it to be dead, and remove it, if possible, as a useless encumbrance. We further expect that our members, instead of attempting to provide, each one, for its own wants, will depend upon the wisdom and foresight of the head, for all necessary supplies. In a word, we know that it is the part of the head to plan, direct and provide, and the part of the members to obey and execute. Precisely similar are the duties of Christians, considered as the members of Christ. No Christian must have a separate will, or a separate interest of his own, or act, in any respect, as if he were an insulated, independent individual. As there is but one head, so there must be but one governing, guiding will, and that must be the will of Christ. If any neglect to execute his will, they THE CHRISTIAN S CONSOLATION. 519 are spiritually diseased; and if this neglect be habitual, they are spiritually dead, and were never really united to Christ, for his real members never die. It is also their duty to depend on him for every thing, for the supply of all their temporal and spiritual necessities; and never to attempt any thing but in reliance on his wisdom, grace and strength. As well may our feet walk safely, or our hands work skilfully, without assistance and guidance from the head, as Christians can perform any service without the grace of Christ their head, in whom are laid up all the treasures of wisdom, and knowledge, and grace. THE CHRISTIAN'S CONSOLATION. Christians, a man now fills the throne of heaven. And who is this man? Believer, mark it well. It is a man who is not ashamed to call you brother. It is a man who can be touched with the feeling of your infirmities, for he has been in all points tempted like as you are, yet without sin. Whatever your sorrows or trials may be, le knows by experience how to sympathize with you. Has your Heavenly Father forsaken you, so that you walk in darkness and see no light? He well remembers what he felt, when he cried, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? Has Satan wounded you with his fiery darts? He remembers how sorely his own heart. was bruised when he wrestled with principalities and powers, and crushed the head of the prince of darkness. Are you assaulted with various and distressing temptations? Christ was tempted to doubt whether he were the Son of God, to presume upon his Father's love, and to worship the father of lies. Are you pressed down with a complication of sorrows, so as to despair even of life? The soul of Christ was once exceeding sorrowful, even unto death. Are you mourning for the danger of unbelieving friends? Christ's own brethren did not believe in him. Does the world persecute and despise you, or are your enemies those of your own iousehold? Christ was despised and rejected of men, and his own relations stigmatized him as a madman. Are you suffering under slanderous and unjust accusations Christ was called a man gluttonous, and a wine-bibber, a friend of publicans and sinners. Are you struggling with the evils of poverty? Jesus had not where to lay his head. Do Christian friends forsake, or treat you unkindly? Christ was denied and forsa 520 THE CHRISTIAN'S CONSOLATION. ken by his own disciples. Are you distressed with fears of death? Christ has entered the dark valley that he might destroy death. 0, then, banish all your fears. Look at your merciful High Priest who is passed unto the heavens, and triumphantly exclaim with the apostle, Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? The professed disciple of Christ, who desponds and trembles, when he hears his Master calling him to go on to perfection, may derive courage and support from looking at the promises of Christ, and at their Author. Among the blessings promised, you will find every thing which any man can need, to assist him in arriving at perfection. There are promises of light and direction to find the path which leads to it; promises of assistance to walk in that path; promises of strength to resist and overcome all opposition; promises of remedies to heal us when wounded, of cordials to invigorate us when faint, and of most glorious rewards to crown the end of our course. You will hear Jehovah saying, Fear not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness. Though thou art in thyself but a worm, thou shalt thresh the mountains, and beat them small as the dust. Look next at him who gives these promises. It is one who is almighty, and who therefore can fulfil them. It is one who cannot lie, and therefore will fulfil them. It is one who possesses all power in heaven and on earth; one whose treasures of grace are unsearchable and inexhaustible; one in whom dwells all the fulness of the Godhead bodily. With all this fulness, faith indissolubly unites us. Say, then, ye who despond and tremble, when you contemplate the almost immeasurable distance between your own moral characters and that of Christ, what, except faith in these promises and in their Author, is necessary, to support, encourage, and animate you in going on to perfection? If Christ himself is perfect; if faith makes you members of this perfect head; if it causes his fulness to flow into your souls, -then it is most evident that he can and will enable all, who exercise faith in him, to imitate his example, and finally to become perfect as he is perfect. THE CHRISTIAN' S CONSOLATION. 521 Let not the Christian listen to the suggestions of indolence, despondency and unbelief; but let him listen rather to the calls and promises of Christ. See what he has already done for those of our race who relied on his grace. Look at Enoch, who walked with God; at Abraham, the friend of God; al Moses, the confidential servant of God; at Daniel, the man greatly beloved of God; at Stephen, full of faith and the Holy Ghost; at St. Paul, glowing with an ardor like that of " the rapt seraph, who adores and burns;" and at the many other worthies with whom the historian and biographer have made us acquainted. See to what heights they soared, how nearly they approached to perfection. And who enabled them to make these approaches, to soar to these heights? He, I answer. who now calls upon you to follow them; He who now offers you the same assistance which he afforded them. Rely, then, with full confidence on his perfections and promises, and recommence with new vigor your Christian warfare. Do you still hesitate and linger? 0 thou of little faith, wherefore dost thou doubt? Why cast round a trembling, desponding glance upon the roaring wind and stormy waves -which oppose thy progress? Look rather at him who calls thee onward; at the omnipotent arm, which is to be thy strength and support. Look till you feel faith, and hope, and courage, reviving in your breast. Then say to your Lord, I come. I will follow where thou leadest the way. I will once more aim, with renovated strength, at the perfection which I have long deemed unattainable. This world is the place for labor, and not for rest, or enjoyment, except that enjoyment which may be found in serving God. We shall have time enough in the coming world to rest, and to converse. with our friends; and it may well reconcile us to separation here, if we hope to be forever with them there. The young Christian thinks it would be best that he should be always lively, zealous, and engaged in religion; that he should feel faith, love and humility in constant exercise, and be like a flame of fire in his Master's service. But our blessed Teacher thinks otherwise. He knows that the most effectual, and, indeed, the only way, to mortify sin in our hearts, is to make us hate it; and the way to make us hate it is to suffer us VOL I. 66 522 CHRIST UNCHANGEABLE. to feel it. He knows that the only way to make us fervent and diligent in prayer, is to show us how many things we have to pray for, and convince us of our absolute need of his assistance. He knows that the best way to make us humble and contented is to shcw us what we are, and what we deserve; and that the only way to wean us from the world; is, to render it a place of fatigue and uneasiness. He knows that there is nothing like the want of his presence to teach us the worth of it; and nothing like a sense of the dangerous nature of our disease, to show us the value of an almighty Physician. Upon this plan, therefore, it is, that all his various dispensations towards Christians are conducted; and till they are acquainted with this, they cannot understand them. CHRIST UNCHANGEABLE. As, amid all the vicissitudes of the seasons, the succession of day and night, and the changes of the weather, the sun remains and shines in the same part of the heavens; so, amid all the daily changes which the Christian experiences, from darkness to light, and from summer to winter, in calms and tempests, the Sun of righteousness still continues the same; and'tis the same love and wisdom which leads him to hide or to unveil his face. But the Christian is at first ready to imagine that the changes in his feelings proceed from changes in Christ; as those who do not consider the motion of the earth, fancy that the sun really rises and sets. Above all, I would say to the Christian, never distrust the kindness, the love, the wisdom and faithfulness of your Saviour; but confide in him who has promised that all things shall work together for your good. Though you may not now know what he is doing, you shall know hereafter. You will see the reason of all the trials and temptations, the dark and comfortless hours, the distressing doubts and fears, the long and tedious conflicts with which you are now exercised; and you will be convinced that not a sigh, not a tear, not a single uneasy thought was allotted you, without some wise and gracious design. Say not, then, like Jacob of old, All these things are against me; say not, like David, I shall one day perish by the hand of Saul; for all these things are for your good, and you CHRIST A HELPER. 523 shall never perish, neither shall any pluck you out of Christ's hand. Why should you, who are sons of the King of heaven, be lean and discontented from day to day? Remember that, if you arein the path of the just, you are the heir of God and joint heir with Christ, of an inheritance incorruptible, eternal, and that fadeth not away. Be not discouraged at the small progress you appear to make, or the difficulties you may meet with. Why should the infant be discouraged because he has not the strength of manhood, or the wisdom of age? Wait on the Lord in the diligent use of his appointed means, and he will strengthen your hearts, so that you shall mount up as on eagles' wings; you shall run, and not be weary; you shall walk, and not faint. Who is he that walketh in darkness and hath no light? Let him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay himself upon his God. Let him go to Jesus, the compassionate Saviour of sinners, who heals the broken in heart, who gathers the lambs in his arms, and carries them in his bosom. Go, I say, to him; tell him all your griefs and sorrows; tell him that your souls cleave to the dust; that iniquities, doubts and fears prevail against you; that you are poor, and miserable, and wretched, and blind and naked. Go to his mercy-seat, where he sits as a merciful High Priest, on purpose to give repentance and remission of sins; go and embrace his feet, lay open your whole hearts, state all your difficulties, complaints and diseases, and you will find him infinitely more gracious than you can conceive; infinitely more willing to grant your requests than you are to make them. He is love itself;'tis his very nature to pity. Have you a hard heart?-carry it to him, and he will soften it. Have you a blind mind?-he will enlighten it. Are you oppressed with a load of guilt — he will take it off. Are you defiled and polluted — he will wash you in his own blood. Have you backslidden?-turn unto me, says he, ye backsliding children, and I will heal your backslidings. Come, then, to Christ, and obtain those influences of his Spirit by which you shall be enabled to grow in grace and in the knowledge of your Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. So shall your path be as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day. 524 THE BIBLE. How great are the privileges which result from an ability to say, Christ is mine! If Christ is yours, then all that he possesses is yours. His power is yours, to defend you; his wisdom and knowledge are yours, to guide you; his righteousness is yours, to justify you; his spirit and grace are yours, to sanctir fy you; his heaven is yours, to receive you. He is as much yours as you are his, and as he requires all that you have to be given to him, so he gives all that he has to you. Come to him, then, with holy boldness, and take what is your own. Remember you have already received what is most difficult for him to give —his body, his blood, his life. And surely he who has given these, will not refuse you smaller blessings. You will never live happily or usefully, you will never highly enjoy or greatly adorn religion, until you can feel that Christ, and all that he possesses, are yours, and learn to come and take them as your own. THE BIBLE ENTIRELY PRACTICAL. We may challenge any man to point out a single passage in the Bible, which does not either teach some duty, or inculcate its performance, or show the grounds on which it rests, or exhibit reasons why we should perform it. For instance; all the preceptive parts of Scripture prescribe our duty; all the invitations invite tus to perform it; all the promises and threatenings are motives to its performance; all the cautions and admonitions warn us not to neglect it; the historical parts inform us what have been the consequences of neglecting and of performing it; the prophetical parts show us what these consequences will be hereafter; and the doctrinal parts show us on what grounds the whole superstructure of duty, or of practical religion, rests. In the judgment of God there is no more henious sin than that of hearing, with unconcern, his messages of love and mercy. Doth not my word do good tohim that walketh uprightly? It always does. Yet Christians often go away from hearing the word unaffected. DUTY OF STUDYING THE BIBLE. The Scriptures are given to us as a rich mine, in which we PRAY ER. 525 may labor, and appropriate to ourselves all the treasures we find; and the more diligently we labor, and the more wealth we obtain, so much the more is the Giver pleased. As we cannot be too careful not to pry into things secret, so we cannot be too diligent in searching into every thing which God has revealed. And if we search in the manner which he has prescribed, we shall make all the good things contained in the Scriptures our own in a still higher sense. We shall make that God, that Saviour, that holiness, that heaven, which the Bible reveals, our own forever, our own to possess and to enjoy. In short, every truth which it reveals is ours to enlighten us; every precept is ours to direct us; every admonition is ours to warn us: every promise is ours to encourage and animate us. For these purposes God has given, and for these purposes we are to receive them. PRAYER. We may judge of the state of our hearts by the earnestness of our prayers. You cannot make a rich man beg like a poor man; you cannot make a man that is full cry for food like one that is hungry: no more will a man who has a good opinion of himself, cry for mercy like one who feels that he is poor and needy. The symptoms of spiritual decline are like those which attend the decay of bodily health. It generally commences with loss of appetite, and a disrelish for spiritual food, prayer, reading the Scriptures, and devotional books. Whenever you perceive these symptoms, be alarmed, for your spiritual health is in danger; apply immediately to the great Physician for a cure. The best means of keeping near to God is the closet. Here the battle is won or lost. If a man begins to be impatient because his prayers for any blessings are not answered, it is a certain proof, that a selfrighteous dependence on his own merits prevails in his heart to a great extent; for the language of impatience is, I deserve the blessing: I had a right to expect that it would be bestowed. and 526 PR AISE. it ought to have been bestowed ere this. It is evident that a man who feels that he deserves nothing, will never be impatient because he receives nothing; but will say, I have nothing to complain of, I receive as much as I deserve. Again, when a man wonders, or thinks it strange, that he does not receive a blessing for which he has prayed, it shows that he relies on his own merits. The language of such feelings is, It is very strange that I, who have prayed so well, and so long, and had so much reason to expect a blessing do not receive it. Persons who feel truly humble, on the contrary, are surprised, not when blessings are withheld, but when they are bestowed. It appears very strange and wonderful to them that God should bestow any favors on creatures, so unworthy as themselves, or pay any regard to prayers so polluted as their own. This is the temper to which every person must be brought before God will answer his prayers. P RAI S E. No one needs to be told, that the surest method to obtain new favors from an earthly benefactorr is to be thankful for those which he has already bestowed. It is the same with respect to our heavenly Benefactor. Praise and thanksgiving are even more prevalent than sacrifices or prayers. I have somewhere met with an account of a Christian, who was shipwrecked upon a desolate island, while all his companions perished in the waves. In this situation, he spent many days in fasting and prayer, that God wotuld open a way for his deliverance; but his prayers received no answer. At length, musing on the goodness of God, in preserving him from the dangers of the sea, he resolved to spend a day in thanksgiving and praise, for this and other favors. Before the conclusion of the day, a vessel arrived, and restored him in safety to his country and friends. Another instance, equally in point, we find in the history of Solomon. At the dedication of the temple, many prayers were made, and many sacrifices offered, without any token of the divine acceptance. But when singers and players on instruments began as one to make one sound to be heard, in praising and thanking the Lord, saying, For he is good, for his mercy endureth forever; then the glory of the Lord descended and filled the temple. The reason why praise and thanksgiving are THE LORD'S SUPPER. 527 thus prevalent with God; is, that they, above all other duties, glorify Him. Whoso offereth praise, says he, glorifieth me; and those who thus honor him, he will honor. THE LORD'S SUPPER, At the communion table we are in fact assembled to attend our Saviour's funeral, to look at his dead body, as we look at the countenance of a deceased friend before the coffin is closed. And if every wrong, every worldly feeling should die away, while we are contemplating the corpse of a friend, how much more ought this to be the case, when this friend is Christ! I think it may be profitable sometimes to shut ourselves up in imagination, in our Saviour's tomb, and feel as if he were there buried with us. At the table of our Lord, each of us should recollect the personal favors and marks of kindness, which he has himself received from Christ, or through his mediation. Our temporal mercies, our spiritual privileges should all pass in review. We should look back to the never to be forgotten time of love, when he found us poor, miserable, wretched, blind and naked; dead in trespasses and sins, having no hope, and without God in the world. We should remember how he pitied us, awakened us, convinced us of sin, and drew us to himself by the cords of love. We should remember how often he has since healed our backslidings, pardoned our sins, borne with our unbelief, ingratitude, and slowness to learn; supplied our wants, listened to our complaints, alleviated our sorrows, and revived our drooping spirits when we were ready to faint. In short, we must remember all the way by which he has led us, these many years, through a wilderness of sins, sorrows, trials and temptations. Thus we shall be convinced that. no sickly infant ever cost its mother a thousandth part of the care, and labor, and suffering, which we have cost our Saviour; and that no mother has ever shown her infant a thousandth part of the watchful tenderness, which our Saviour has shown to us. Was Christ a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief? Then, Christians, we need not be surprised or offended, if we are often called to drink of the cup of sorrows; if we find this 528 RELATIVE DUTIES. world a vale of tears. This is one of the ways in which we must be conformed to our glorious Head. Indeed, his example has sanctified grief, and almost rendered it pleasant to mourn. One would think that Christians could scarcely wish to go rejoicing through a world, which their Master passed through mourning. The paths in which we follow him are bedewed with his tears, and stained with his blood. It is true, that from the ground thus watered and fertilized, many rich flowers and fruits of paradise spring up to refresh us, in which we may, and ought to rejoice. But still our joy sould be softened and sanctified by godly sorrow. When we are partaking of the feast which his love has spread for us, we should never forget how dearly it was purchased. "There's not a gift his hand bestows But cost his heart a groan." The joy, the honor, the glory, through eternity, shall be ours; but the sorrows, the sufferings, the agonies which purchased it,. were all his own. RELATIVE DUTIES OF CHRISTIANS. Since all Christians are members of the same body, they ought not to envy each other. What could be more absurd than for the eye to envy the dexterity of the hand, or the feet to envy the perspicuity of the eye which directed their motions, and prevented them from running into danger? Still more absurd is it, if possible, for one Christian to envy the gifts, or graces, or usefulness of another, since the whole body, and he amongst the rest, enjoys the benefit of them. The fact is, whenever God bestows a favor on any Christian, he does, in effect, confer a favor on all; just as when a man heals, or clothes one part of the body, he confers a benefit on the whole. Rejoice, and bless God, then, Christians, when he honors or favors any fellow Christian, for it is an act of kindness done to you, and will promote your present and eternal felicity. No Christian should be dissatisfied with his lot if poor and despised, or indulge pride if honored and prospered. Every one is in that place which infinite wisdom sees best for him, and LOVE ONE ANOTHER. 529 the most highly favored Christians are, in many respects, dependent on the lowest. The eye cannot say to the hand, I have no need of you. If the whole body were an eye, where were the hearing? and if the whole body were hearing, where were the smelling? But now God hath set the members in the body, every one as it hath pleased him, and it is the same in the great body of Christ. It is incumbent on every Christian to ascertain for what he is qualified, and what service he is called to perform, for the body of which he is a member. You can easily conceive what would be the consequence, in the human body, should the feet attempt to perform the work of the hands, or the hands, the office of the eye. Almost equally pernicious and ridiculous are the consequences occasioned by the self-ignorance, vanity, or false modesty of many Christians. They either do not know their place, or if they do, will not perform the duties of it. HIence some will attempt to perform the duty of social prayer, or of exhortation, or of expounding the Scriptures, whom God never designed, and therefore never qualified for that work, and who, of course, cannot perform it in an edifying, acceptable manner: while others, whom he had thus qualified, for some cause or other, decline attempting it. Hence it is too often the case, that a church of Christ, instead of resembling a well-organized body in which the several members know and keep their place, and perform its duties, resembles a disorderly family, in which no one knows his employment, and, of course, there is nothing but confusion and complaint. LOVE ONE ANOTHER. There are some Christians whom it is not very easy to love, on account of some disagreeable peculiarities about them; but we shall love them hereafter, as we love our own souls, and they will love us, in a similar manner. Besides, our Saviour loves them; notwithstanding all these imperfections: and ought not our affections to follow his? If he were now visibly on earth, and we were permitted to stand by his side, if we saw him bend a look of love on any individual, would not our affections immediately flow out towards that person, however disagreeable or imperfect he might be? Such a look our Saviour does bend on the most unlovely of his disciples. Let us, then, love them all, for his sake. 7 VOL. 1. 530 TUNIVER SAL LAW OF BENEVOLENCE. "Not for ourselves, but others'"-is the grand law of nature, inscribed by the hand of God on every part of creation. Not for itself, but others, does the sun dispense its beams; not for themselves, but others, do the clouds distil their showers; not for herself, but others, does the earth unlock her treasures; not for themselves, but others, do the trees produce their fruits, or the flowers diffuse their fragrance and display their various hues. So, not for himself, but others, are the blessings of Heaven bestowed on man; and whenever, instead of diffusing them around, he devotes them exclusively to his own gratification, and shuts himself up in the dark and flinty caverns of selfishness, he transgresses the great law of creation —he cuts himself off from the created universe, and its Author-he sacrilegiously converts to his own use the favors which were given him for the relief of others, and must be considered, not only as an unprofitable, but as a fraudulent servant, who has worse than wasted his Lord's money. He, who thus lives only to himself, and consumes the bounty of Heaven upon his lusts, or consecrates it to the demon of avarice, is a barren rock in a fertile plain; he is a thorny bramble in a fruitful vineyard; he is the grave of God's blessings; he is the very Arabia Deserta of the moral world. And if he is highly exalted in wealth or power, he stands, inaccessible and strong, like an insulated towering cliff, which exhibits only a cold and cheerless prospect, intercepts the genial beams of the sun, chills the vales below with its gloomy shade, adds fresh keenness to the freezing blast, and tempts down the lightnings of angry heaven. How different this from the gently-rising hill, clothed to its summit with fruits and flowers, which attracts and receives the dews of heaven, and retaining only sufficient to supply its numerous offspring, sends the remainder in a thousand streams to bless the vales which lie at its feet! DUTIES TO THE HEATHEN. It is a fact that vigorous and persevering exertions in favor of religion abroad, naturally excite, and are inseparably connected with similar and successful exertions at home. Witness the example of Great Britain. While she was reaching the full cup of life and salvation to other countries, the drops which fell from it refreshed and fertilized her own. Witness the present reli RELIGIOUS CONSISTENCY. 531 gious situation of our own country. Never, in the same space of time, was so much done for its amelioration; never were the Scriptures so generally diffused among us; never were our domestic missions in so prosperous a state; never were their endeavors crowned with so much success, as since we began to send Bibles and missionaries to the heathen. God has been pouring out spiritual blessings upon our churches, our towns, our villages and our schools; and thus, for every missionary whom we have sent abroad, he has given us ten to labor at home. If we wish to obtain greater blessings of a similar kind, we must seek them in a similar way. If vice and infidelity are to be finally conquered, and banished from our country, the battle must be fought, and the victory won, on the plains of India. True charity receives her instructions, as well as her existence, from faith in God's word; and when faith points to human beings in danger, charity, without delaying to propose questions, hastens to their relief. Our houses are built, our vineyards are planted, around the base of a volcano. They may be fair and flourishing to-dayto-morrow, ashes may be all that remains. Open your hands wide, then, while they contain any blessings to bestow; for of that which you give, you can never be deprived. SEE THAT YE ABOUND IN THIS GRACE ALSO. Unless we strenuously aim at universal holiness, we can have no satisfactory evidence, that we are the servants of Christ. A servant of Christ is one that obeys Christ as his master, and makes Christ's revealed word the rule of his conduct. No man, then, can have any evidence that he is a servant of Christ any further than he obeys the will of Christ. And no man can have any evidence that he obeys the will of Christ in one particular, unless he sincerely and strenuously aims to obey in every particular-for the will of Christ is one. In consequence of their natural constitution, of the circumstances in which they are placed, or of the absence of temptation, most Christians find it comparatively easy to avoid some sins, to be exemplary in the performance of some duties, and to 532 RELIGIOUS CONSISTENCY. cultivate some branches of the Christian temper with success. One man, for instance, enjoys muchleisure and has a taste for study; hence the acquisition of religious knowledge becomes easy to him. Another is blessed with a mild and amiable disposition, and of course can regulate his temper without much difficulty. A third is constitutionally liberal, and can therefore contribute readily to religious and charitable objects. A fourth is quiet and retiring, and is for this reason little tempted to pride, ambition, or discontent. A fifth is naturally bold and ardent. Of course, he can easily overcome indolence and the fear of man. In a word, there are a very few Christians, who, for these and other similar reasons, do not in some respects excel. But the evil is that they are prone, though perhaps without being sensible of it, to attach an undue importance to that grace or duty in which they excel, to make the whole of religion to consist in it, and to neglect other things of equal importance, the performance of which they would find more difficult. Nay, more; they secretly regard the eminence which they have attained in some respects, as an excuse for great deficiencies in others; and endeavor to atone for a neglect of self-denying duties, by attending with peculiar zeal to those duties-which are more easy. One man, for instance, is lukewarm in his affections, formal in his devotions, and makes little progress in subduing his sinful propensities. But he comforts himself with the hope that his knowledge of religious truth is increasing. Another, who neglects to improve opportunities for acquiring religious knowledge, derives consolation from the warmth of his zeal, and the liveliness of his affections. One person is by no means disposed to contribute liberally for the promotion of Christ's cause and the relief of the poor; but he hopes to atone for his deficiency in this respect, by the frequency and fervency of his prayers. Another neglects prayer, meditation and communion with God, but he quiets himself by pleading the pressure of worldly business, and by liberal contributions for religious and charitable purposes. Thus, as there are few Christians who do not excel in some respects, there are few who are not, in some respects, exceedingly deficient. Small indeed is the number of those who sedulously strive to stand perfect and complete in all the will of God. CHRIST GLORIFIED. 533 Nothing is more common than to meet with Christians who in many respects are eminently and exemplarily pious, but who, by some sinful imprudence or defect, render their characters vulnerable, destroy all the good effects of their example, and dishonor instead of adorning religion. They resemble a beautiful and well-proportioned body, which has been disfigured by a wound, or which has lost a limb, or some member of which is disproportionably large. While in some respects they are giants, in others they are mere dwarfs. Hence not only their reputation, but their influence, their comfort, their usefulness are impaired, and they adorn religion less than many others who are in many respects greatly their inferiors, but who are more uniform and consistent in their conduct. Christ commands us, whether we eat or drink, or whatever we do, to do all to the glory of God. Perhaps some will ask, How is this possible? We cannot be always thinking of God; we must attend to our business, provide for our own wants and those of our families. True -but look at a man about to send a ship to a foreign port. As he purchases his cargo, and makes the requisite preparations, he considers what articles are most suitable for the market; what provisions most necessary for the voyage; how the ship is to be rigged and manned; in short, all his plans are laid with reference to the end of the voyage. So the Christian, though not always thinking of heaven, should take care that all his business and all his pleasures may forward his journey thither, and promote his great object of preparation for that abode of blessedness. CHRIST GLORIFIED IN HIS CHURCH. When we look at the sun, we only perceive that it is a bright and glorious luminary. But when we behold the earth in spring, in summer or autumn, clothed with luxuriant vegetation, adorned with flowers, and enlivened by myriads of sportive, happy beings; when we compare this state of things with the rigors, the frost, the barrenness of winter, recollect that the sun is, instrumentally, the cause of this mighty difference, and reflect how gloomy and desolate our world would be, if wholly deprived of its beams; we have far more clear and enlarged conceptions of the value and excellence of this luminary. The 534 DIRECTIONS TO CHRISTIANS. sun is then, if I may so express it, glorified in the earth, and admired in all the productions and beneficial effects which result from his influence. In a similar manner will Christ, the Sun of righteousness, be glorified and admired in his people. It wilt then be clearly seen how much mercy was necessary to pardon their sins, how much grace was required to sanctify, preserve and glorify them; how much wisdom, goodness and power were displayed in devising and executing the wondrous plan of their redemption. They will not, therefore, be admired, but Christ will be seen and admired in them. The assembled universe will be ready to exclaim, with one voice, How infinitely powerful, wise, and good must he be, who could transform sinful, guilty worms of the dust, into beings so perfectly glorious and lovely! MISCELLANEOUS DIRECTIONS TO CHRISTIANS. God commands all men to repent. Christians have enough to repent of daily; and if they are not in a penitent frame, they justify impenitent sinners. Let your great Physician heal you in his own way. Only follow his directions and take the medicine which he prescribes, and then quietly leave the result with him. What God calls a man to do, he will carry him through. I would undertake to govern half a dozen worlds, if God called me to do it; but I would not undertake to govern half a dozen sheep unless God called me to it. To a person who has been frustrated in a benevolent design: — "I congratulate you, and anticipate your eventual success. I do not recollect ever to have succeeded in any thing of importance, in which I did not meet with some rebuff, at the commencement." THE WAY TO CURE A COVETOUS SPIRIT. Suppose you were to pass over a pit which had no bottom; would you endeavor to fill it up, or bridge it over? Anticipated sorrows are harder to bear than real ones, because Christ does not support us under them. In every slough we DIRECTIONS TO CHRISTIANS. 535 may see the footsteps of Christ's flock who have gone before us. Christian friends, when separated from each other's society, may derive comfort from the reflection, that God is able to extend a hand to two of his children at the same time, however remote may be their places of habitation. Every thing we do or say should be immediately tried by a little court within our own breasts. Our motives should be examined, and a decision made on the spot. Our best rule is, to give God the same place in our hearts, that he holds in the universe. We must make him all in all. We should act as if there were no beings in the universe but God and ourselves. As the eye which has gazed at the sun, cannot immediately discern any other object; as the man who has been accustomed to behold the ocean, turns with contempt from a stagnant pool, so the mind which has contemplated eternity, overlooks and despises the things of time. If at any time you have enlargement in prayer and are favored with access to the throne of grace, do not go away satisfied and self-complacent. Pride says,'I have done very well now; God will accept this." You perhaps discover that this is the suggestion of pride; it then takes a new turn. Another would not have discovered it to be pride; I must be very humble to see it thus. Thus if you continue the search, you will find pride, like the different coats of an onion, lurking one beneath another to the very centre. Praise Christ for every thing. He is the foundation of every good thought, desire and affection. It should be our aim to draw all we can from him by prayer, and return him all we can by praise. 0 DEATH! WHERE IS THY STING? The power of death, the last enemy, is destroyed, as it respects all who believe in Christ. Instead of being the jailer of hell 536 TO MINISTERS. and the grave, he is now, as it respects Christ's people, the porter of paradise. All he can now do is to cause them to sleep in Jesus, release their immortal spirits from the fetters which bind them to earth, and deposite their weary bodies in the tomb, as a place of rest, till Christ comes at the last day, to raise them incorruptible, glorious and immortal; and reunite them to their souls in a state of perfect, never-ending felicity. TO THE MINISTERS OF CHRIST, Every benevolent person is gratified by being made the bearer of pleasing intelligence. The messenger, who is commissioned to open the prison doors of an insolvent debtor, or pardoned criminal, and restore him to the embraces of his family; the officer, who is sent by his commander in chief to carry home tidings of an important victory; and still more the ambassador, who is appointed to proclaim pardon and peace, in his sovereign's name, to conquered rebels; thinks himself, and is thought by others, to have received no common favor. Should God put into your hands the wonder-working rod of Moses; should he commission and enable you to work miracles of beneficence, to enrich the poor, to comfort the miserable, to restore sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, health to the diseased, and life to the dead; you would esteem it a favor and honor, incomparably greater than earthly monarchs can bestow. But in committing the gospel to your care, God has conferred on you honors and favors, compared with which, even the power of working miracles is a trifle. He has put into your hands the cross of Christ, an instrument of far greater efficacy than the rod of Moses He has sent you to proclaim the most joyful tidings that heaven can desire, or that earth can hear. He has sent you to preach deliverance to captives, the recovery of sight to the blind, the balm of Gilead and the great Physician to the spiritually wounded and diseased, salvation to the self-destroyed, and everlasting life to the dead. In a word, he commissions and enables them to work miracles, not upon the bodies, but upon the souls of men; miracles not merely of power, but of grace and mercy; miracles, to perform which, an angel would think himself highly honored, in bein:S sent down from heaven; miracles from the performance of which it is difficult to say whether greater glory redounds to God, or greater happiness to man. Well then may every rmin HEAVEN. 537 ister of Christ exclaim with Paul, I thank my God for that he counted rne faithful, putting me into the ministry. Though, in committing the gospel to their trust, God has conferred on ministers the greatest honor and favor which can be given to mortals, yet, like all other favors, it brings with it a great increase of responsibility. Remember that the more highly any one is exalted, in this respect, the more difficult it becomes to stand, and the more dangerous it is to fall. He who falls from a pulpit seldom stops short of the lowest abyss in hell. HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN. Only to be permitted to contemplate such a being as Jehovah, to see goodness, holiness, justice, mercy, long-suffering and sovereignty personified and condensed; to see them united with eternity, infinite power, unerring wisdom, omnipresence and all sufficiency; to see all these natural and moral perfections indissolubly united and blended in sweet harmony in a pure, spiritual being, and that being placed on the throne of the universe;-I say to see this would be happiness enough to fill the mind of any creature in existence. But in addition to this, to have this ineffable being for our God, our portion, our all; to be permitted to say, This God is our God forever and ever; to have his resplendent countenance smile upon us; to be encircled in his everlasting arms of power, and faithfulness, and love, to hear his voice saying to us, I am yours, and you are mine; nothing shall ever pluck you from my hands, or separate you from my love, but you shall be with me where I am, behold my glory, and live to reign with me forever and ever; this is too much; it is honor, it is glory, it is happiness too overwhelming, too transporting for mortal minds to conceive, or for mortal frames to support; and it is perhaps well for us that here we know but in part, and that it doth not yet appear what we shall be. O then, in all circumstances, under all inward and outward afflictions, let God's Israel rejoice in their Creator, let the children of Zion be joyful in their King. You have, doubtless, often observed that when your minds have been intently and pleasingly occupied, you have become almost unconscious of the flight of time; minutes and hours VOL. I. 68 538 HEAVEN. have flown away, with, apparently, unusual swiftness, and the setting. or rising sun has surprised you, long before you expected its approach. But in heaven, the saints will be entirely lost and swallowed up in God; and their minds will be so completely absorbed in the contemplation of his ineffable, infinite, uncreated, glories, that they will be totally unconscious how time, or, rather, how eternity passes; and not only years, but millions of ages, such as we call ages, will be flown ere they are aware. Thus, a thousand years will seem to them but as one day, and yet so great, so ecstatic will be their happiness, that one day will be as a thousand years. And as there will be nothing to interrupt them, no bodily wants to call off their attention, no weariness to compel them to rest, no vicissitude of seasons or of day and night to disturb their contemplations; it is more than possible that innumerable ages may pass away, before they think of asking how long they have been in heaven, or even before they are conscious that a single hour has elapsed. How often, Christians, have your hearts been made to burn with love, and gratitude, and admiration, and joy, while Christ has opened to you the Scriptures, and caused you to know a little of that love which passeth knowledge! How often has one transient glimpse of the light of God's countenance turned your night into day, banished your sorrows, supported you under heavy afflictions, and caused you to rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory! Oh, then, what must it be to escape forever from error, and ignorance, and darkness, and sin, into the region of bright, unclouded, eternal day; to see your God and Redeemer, face to face; continually to contemplate, with immortal strength, glories so dazzlingly bright, that one moment's view of them would now, like a stream of lightning, turn your frail bodies into dust; to see the eternal volume of the divine counsels, the mighty map of the divine mind; unfolded to your eager, piercing gaze; to explore the heights and depths, the lengths and breadths of the Redeemer's love, and still to see new wonders, glories and beauties pouring upon your minds, in constant, endless succession, calling forth new songs of praise;-songs in which you will unite, not, as now, with mortal companions and mortal voices, but with the innumerable choir of angels, with the countless myriads of the redeemed, all A JEWEL FOR YOUR OWN. 539 shouting with a voice like the voice of many waters, Alleluia, for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth! The following anecdotes are extracted from the Religious Magazine. One day, he went to visit a mother, who was disconsolate from the loss of a child. He said to her as follows:" Suppose, now, some one was making a beautiful crown for you to wear; and you.knew it was for you, and that you were to receive it and wear it as soon as it should be done. Now, if the maker of it were to come, and, in order to make the crown more beautiful and splendid, were to take some of your jewels, to put into it, should you be sorrowful and unhappy, because they were taken away for a little while, when you knew they were gone to make up your crown?" The mother said, that no one could conceive of the relief, the soothing, quieting influence which this comparison had on her mind. On another occasion he went to see a sick person, who was very much troubled, because she could not keep her mind all the time fixed upon Christ, on account of the distracting influences of her sufferings, and the various objects and occurrences of the sick room, which constantly called off her attention. She was afraid she did not love her Saviour, as she found it so difficult to fix her mind upon him. Dr. Payson said,-' Suppose you were to see a little sick child, lying in its mother's lap, with its faculties impaired by its sufferings, so that it was, generally, in a troubled sleep; but now and then it just opens its eyes a little, and gets a glimpse of its mother's face, so as to be recalled to the recollection that it is in its mother's arms; and suppose that always, at such a time, it should smile faintly with evident pleasure to find where it was, -should you doubt whether that child loved its mother or not?" The poor sufferer's doubts and despondency were gone in a moment. A gentleman, who saw and conversed with Dr. Payson in Boston, when he visited this city, towards the latter part of his life, was led, by his preaching and conversation, to a considera 540 THE WOUNDED DOVE. ble degree of serious concern for his soul. His wife was still in a great measure indifferent to the subject. One day, meeting her in company, he said to her," Madam, I think your husband is looking upwards, -making some effort to rise above the world, toward God and heaven. You must not let him try alone. Whenever I see the husband struggling alone in such efforts, it makes me think of a dove, endeavoring to fly upwards, while it has one broken wing. It leaps and flutters, and perhaps raises itself a little way, and then it becomes wearied, and drops back again to the ground. If both wings co-operate, then it mounts easily." CHRISTIAN EXPERIENCE. THE GRATEFUL CHRISTIAN REHEARSING WHAT GOD HATH DONE FOR HIS SOUL. Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what he hath done for my soul.-Psalm LXVI, 16. ON few of our race has the great Giver of every good gift, bestowed more temporal blessings than on David. He gave him, while yet a stripling, courage to attack, and strength to subdue, the lion and the bear; he rendered him victorious over the giant of Gath; he took him from the sheep-fold to be king over Israel, in his own time placed him on the throne, and crowned his reign with almost unexampled prosperity. A person destitute of religion, on hearing this highly favored monarch express a determination to declare what God had done for him, would naturally, therefore, have expected to hear him mention those temporal blessings as the principal favors for which he was indebted to the bounty of heaven. But such an expectation would have been disappointed. So far from mentioning these things as his greatest blessings, David does not even mention them at all. Not that he was insensible to these favors. Not that he did not consider them as great and deserving his thanksgivings. But in comparison with his spiritual blessings, in comparison with what God had done for his soul, he regarded them, and justly regarded them as nothing. Instead, therefore, )f calling men to hear of his deliverance from the lion, the bear, 542 WHAT GOD HATH the Philistine, the tyrant; and his exaltation to the throne of Israel, he says, Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what he hath done for my soul. My hearers, every real Christian, when he feels like a Christian, will wish to make the language of this passage his own. However great, however numerous may be the temporal blessings which he has received, he will consider them as nothing in comparison with what God has done for his soul. God has done substantially the same things for the soul of every Christian which he did for the soul of David; and every Christian will wish to declare what God has done to those that fear Him. To illustrate this remark is my present design. With this view, I shall attempt to answer the three following questions: I. What has God done for the soul of every Christian? II. Why does the Christian wish to declare what God has done for his soul? III. Why does he wish to make this declaration to those only who fear God? I. What has God done for the soul of every Christian? Before I answer this question, it may be proper to remind you that the Christian's God has revealed himself as Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Each of this Divine Three has done many things for his soul, and whatever is done by either of them is done by God. An answer to the question before us, must, therefore, include every thing which has been done for the soul, either by the Father, the Son, or the Holy Spirit. The answer I shall give in the name of a Christian, or in the language which he might be supposed to adopt, while making such a declaration as that in our text. Come then, all ye that fear God; see a Christian, meditating in deep and silent thought on the spiritual blessings which God has bestowed on him; see the expression of self-abasement, penitence, faith, hope, love, wonder, admiration and gratitude, which his countenance assumes, till at length, unable any longer to contain or repress his emotions, he breaks forth in a humble, affectionate, thankful declaration of what God has done for his soul. Before my soul began to exist, he says, God began to provide for its salvation. He loved it with an everlasting love; he chose it to be a vessel of mercy, in which he might shew forth DONE FOR THE SOUL. 543 ihe riches of his glory, chose it in Christ Jesus before the world began. All that he has done for me was done according to an eternal purpose, which he purposed in himself. Before I knew that I needed a Saviour, before I existed, before the foundations of the world were laid, he provided for me a Saviour, in the person of his Son, and gave me to that Saviour in the covenant of redemption, as a part of his promised reward. When in his own appointed time he called me into being, he who fixes the bounds of every human habitation, placed me in a part of the world where he knew I should have the opportunity to acquire a knowledge of himself, and to hear the gospel of salvation. He watched over my soul during the helpless years of infancy, the inexperienced season of childhood, and the dangerous period of youth; and did not suffer death to bear it away to perdition in an unprepared state. While I lived without him in the world, scarcely sensible that I had a soul to lose, his guardian care shielded me from a thousand dangers which would have proved fatal; by the secret influence of his restraining grace, he prevented me from yielding to many temptations, and held me back from many sins, into which my own wicked heart, aided by the great deceiver: would have otherwise plunged me; he guided and led me along by an unseen hand, when I knew him not, and by his providence ordered all my concerns in such a way as to bring me to the place where I should find salvation. Then, when I lay dead in trespasses and sins; when I was a child of wrath, justly doomed to everlasting burnings; when I was daily, by new sins, increasing my guilt and provoking him to cast me off forever; when the enemy of God and man kept my heart as his castle, like a strong man armed; when self-ignorance, unbelief, hardness of heart and opposition to the truth combined to chain me down in a hopeless state, and when I loved my chains too well to make any struggle for liberty;-even then he began to employ means to effect my deliverance. His Spirit came to awaken me from my lethargic state; truths which I had a thousand times heard in vain, were made to affect me, my conscience was awakened to reprove me, and I was led to inquire, What shall I do to be saved? But the answer which inspiration gives to this inquiry, my darkened mind did not understand, and my proud, wicked heart 544 WHAT GO HATH would not believe. In various ways I resisted the blessed Guide who would have led me to a Saviour's feet. When Christ knocked at the door of my heart, I refused him admission; I sought salvation by the works of the law, by my own merits; I was unwilling to repent, forsake sin and deny myself; and eagerly sought destruction, when, as I fondly imagined, I was seeking salvation. But my merciful and unchangeable God would not give me up, as I so richly deserved. He caused light to shine into my benighted mind. He led me to see the justice of my condemnation, and my inability to escape from it. He made the way of salvation appear plain to me. He subdued my proud heart and stubborn will, reconciled me to himself, gave me repentance, drew me with cords of love to a Saviour's feet, broke my chains, delivered me from my tyrants, freely forgave my numberless offences, put his law of love in my heart, enstamped upon me his image, and came to dwell in my before disconsolate, polluted breast. He adopted me as his child, and constituted me an heir of God and a joint heir with Christ, of the heavenly inheritance. He filled me with joy and peace in believing, and taught me to abound in hope through the power of the Holy Ghost. Thus, when I was slumbering on the verge of hell, he roused me; when I was dead in sins, he raised me to life. When I was a slave, he set me free; when I was a child of disobedience, he made me a child of God; when I was an heir of perdition, he made me an heir of glory; when my heart was like a cage of unclean birds, he transformed it into the temple of the Holy Ghost. Ever since that time he has been watching over me, and carrying on his work of grace in my heart. He has taught and assisted me to pray, and has answered my prayers. He has corrected my errors and mistakes; he has assisted me in subduing my sins and in resisting temptation; he has borne with my numberless infirmities; he has granted me ten thousand pardons; he has healed my frequent back slidings; he has strengthened me when weak, he has encouraged me when desponding, he has healed my soul when sick and wounded, he has consoled me when afflicted, he has wrought in me to will and to do of his own good pleasure; he has often refreshed me by his ordinances, and has sometimes caused me to rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory. No day, no hour has passed in which he did not do somethrng for my soul. DONE FOR THE SOUL. 545 And as if all this were not enough, he has engaged to do, and will do still more. He will strengthen me, yea he will help me, yea he will uphold me by the right hand of his righteousness. Iie will keep me by his power through faith unto salvation. He will be with me and comfort me when I am called to pass through the dark valley of the shadow of death, and will receive my disembodied and perfected spirit to be with himself till the resurrection. He will then bring me with him when he comes to judgment. He will raise my body immortal, incorruptible and glorious, like his own; he will pronounce me blessed, and in the presence of the assembled universe, call me to inherit the kingdom prepared for me from the foundation of the world. To the possession of this kingdom I shall again ascend with him to heaven, and receive the crown and the throne which he has promised to them that overcome. Then, in the enjoyment of perfect holiness, glory and felicity, I shall be forever with the Lord. All this he has, in effect, done for me already, since he has promised it, and with him, promise and performance are the same. For my security he has given me his eternal purpose and his solemn oath; two immutable things in which it is impossible for him to lie. Who, then, shall lay any thing to my charge? It is God that justifieth. Who is he that shall condemn me? It is Christ that died, yea, rather that is risen again, who also maketh intercession for me. And what shall separate me from the love of Christ? Shall persecution, or distress, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? Nay, in all these things I am more than a conqueror through him that loved me; and I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor the world, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate me from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus my Lord. Such is the answer which every real Christian may give to the question, What has God done for my soul? I do not, however, assert that all real Christians will venture to give this answer. Many of them may, and do doubt whether they are real Christians; whether they are not deceived by a false conversion. Hence the greater part would perhaps venture no farther than to say, I hope God has done these things for my soul. Their doubts do not, however, if they are Christians, affect their VOL. I. 69 546 WHAT GOD HATH salvation. It is certain, whether they know it or not, that God has done, or will do every thing for their souls which has now been mentioned; for he knows, if they do not, that they are Christians, and he will treat them accordingly. II. The second question which it was proposed to answer, is, Why does the Christian, when he feels like a Christian, wish to declare what God hath done for his soul? This question has been, in part, at least, already answered. While stating what God has done, we have indirectly assigned a sufficient reason why Christians should wish to declare what he has done; for who can receive favors so great, so overwhelming, and not wish to speak of them? If we have seen or met with any thing wonderful, we naturally wish to speak of it. That God should do such things for a sinful soul is beyond measure wonderful. It is by far the most wonderful of all his works. He himself represents it as such. Well then may every one for whom he ha's done such wonders of grace and mercy, wish to declare it. We find that those whom our Saviour miraculously cured when he was on earth, loudly proclaimed and published every where how great things God had done for them. They could not keep silence, even when he charged them to do it. His power, his goodness, and the benefits he had bestowed on them appeared so great, so astonishing, that they could not hold their peace. Much more, then, may Christians whose spiritual maladies have been healed, to whom God has made far greater and more astonishing displays of his power and grace, feel unable to conceal what God has done for their souls. They must speak of them for the same reason that saints and angels in heaven sing God's praises, because they are so full that they cannot contain themselves. They must give vent to their feelings. Gratitude constrains them to speak. It is a relief to their bursting hearts, burdened and overwhelmed with the weight of inestimable favors, to show what great things God has done for them, and how he has had mercy on then. Regard for God's glory also prompts the Christian to speak. He feels that what God has done for him is a most glorious work; that it involves a most glorious display of the divine perfections. He wishes therefore to proclaim it, that men may know how wonderfully merciful and gracious God is. Thus the Samaritan leper, when cleansed from his leprosy, turned back, and, with a loud voice, glorified God. DONE FOR THE SOUL. 547 The Christian, farther, wishes to declare what God has done for his soul, in order that others may assist him in praising the bountiful Benefactor. His own unassisted voice is not loud enough. His own praises seem altogether insufficient. He would have his praises and thanksgivings heard through the world. He would have the whole human family, were it possible, join with him in one universal chorus of praise to God; and while he tells what God has done for his soul, his desires are expressed in the words of the Psalmist, O come, magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together. Such are some of the reasons why every Christian wishes to declare what God has done for his soul., III. Why does he wish to make this declaration to those only who fear God. He does so, First, Because they alone can understand such a declaration. He might indeed speak to others of temporal favors, or what G& has done for his body; but should he begin to declare what Gi had done for his soul, his language would be scarcely intelligible, and they would regard him as an enthusiast or a madman. Conviction, conversion, the pardon of sin, adoption into God's family, communion with God, and a title to heaven, are expressions which convey almost no meaning to the mind of an irreligious man. Agreeably, we are told that to such the gospel is foolishness, and that they receive not the things of the spirit of God, neither can they know them because they are spiritually discerned. Hence the apostle, after exclaiming, Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed on us, that we should be called the sons of God, adds; The world knoweth us not, that is knows nothing of the blessings and privileges which we enjoy, because it knew him not. Paul, also, speaking in the name of Christians, says, now we have received not the Spirit of the world, but the spirit of God; that we may know the things that are freely given us of God; thus plainly intimating that those only who have been taught by the Holy Ghost, know or understand the spiritual blessings which God bestows on his people. And. in the same chapter he adds, He that is spiritual discerneth all things, but he himself is discerned of no man; that is, no man discerns or knows what he has received and what he enjoys. 54S WHAT GOD HATH The Christian wishes to make this declaration to those only who fear God, in the second place, because they alone will really believe him. As those who have no fear of God, do not understand what blessings he has bestowed on his people, so neither do they believe that such blessings are ever bestowed. Hence, should they hear a Christian declaring what God has done for him, they would either despise him as a proud boaster, or pity him as a' weak, deluded fanatic, whose vain fancies had bewildered him into a fool's paradise. Accordingly, the author of the book of Ecclesiasticus represents the wicked as ridiculing the righteous, for calling themselves the children of the Lord, and making their boast that God is their father. In the third place, the Christian wishes to make this declaration to those only who fear God, because they only will listen with interest, or join with him in praising his Benefactor. Men,titute of godly fear, would listen to an idle tale or empty dream I1 more interest than to his relation; and even did they understand and believe it, they would not praise God on his account, but would rather murmur at God as partial, because he had not conferred similar blessings on them also. But not so they that fear God. These will listen with interest, for they love to hear of God's wondrous works of mercy and grace. They will join with him in his joyful and grateful expressions of praise, for they know in some measure the dangers from which he has been rescued, and the number, worth, and magnitude of the blessings which he has received. They know that God has indeed done great things for the soul of every one who is saved; they can, like the angels, rejoice over every sinner that repenteth; nay more; they can sympathize in his joy, for they have themselves been in the same situation, and tasted of the same deliverance. Hence, while the Christian exclaims, The'Lord hath done great things for my soul, whereof I am glad; they can respond, yes, he has done great things for you, and for us also, and blessed be his name. Thus have been answered the three questions suggested by the text. It remains only to make some improvement of the subject. To those of us who have publicly professed ourselves the dis. ciples of Christ, this subject is peculiarly interesting. By making such a professions we expressed a persuasion, or at least a DONE FOR THE SOUL. 549 prevailing hope, that we were Christians; and of course that God either had done, or in due time would do for us, every thing which has now been mentioned. I have a right, then, my professing hearers, to address you as persons who, at least, hope that God has done these things for your souls. Permit me then to ask you, in view of this subject, 1. Whether the returns which God requires of you in the gospel, are not most reasonable? He there tells you that you are not your own, that you are bought with a price, and requires you, therefore, to glorify him in your bodies and spirits which are his; — to feel that you are his property, to act as his servants, to consecrate yourselves and all that you possess to him. Now, is not this requisition most reasonable? Has he not a right to expect that we should comply with it? Even if he had not created us, if he were not our rightful sovereign, if he had no rights but those of a benefactor, no claims but those which:;are founded on what he has done for our souls, might he not still justly expect from us all that he requires, all that we can render? What, O what can be too valuable to give to him who gave his own Son to die for us? What, 0 what can be too difficult to do, or too painful to suffer, for him who has done and suffered so much for us? What returns may not he justly expect who, at an expense so infinite, redeemed our immortal souls from eternal death, and bestowed on them everlasting life? Surely we must forget what God has done for us, if we can think his requisitions hard or unreasonable; if we ever hesitate to perform any duty, or to make any sacrifice which he requires. And have any of you, my professing friends, been guilty of this forgetfulness? Have you hesitated to make the returns, to perform the duties, to offer the sacrifices which your Benefactor requires. Has it ceased to be your habitual language, Bless the Lord, 0 my soul, and forget not all his benefits? If so, you may, 2. Learn from this subject how inexcusable, is your ingratitude, how much reason you have for sorrow, shame and selfabasement. In order to this, review once more what God has done for you, and contrast it with your returns to him. Have you not, in multiplied instances, rewarded him evil for good? Do you not discover in your past conduct, innumerable proofs of unkindness, unfaithfulness and ingratitude? And 0, how 550 WHAT GOD HATH black, how base is ingratitude in us! Of all beings that exist on earth or in heaven, the Christian has by far the most cause to be grateful even more than the blessed angels themselves. Of course, ingratitude in a Christian is more criminal and hateful than it would be in any other being. 0 then, what deep, what bitter repentance ought we to feel! And can you avoid feeling it? Can any Christian be otherwise than broken-hearted, when he contemplates God as his Father, Benefactor, and Redeemer, loving him with an everlasting love, promoting his happiness with unceasing care, and doing so much, so very much for his salvation? Can any Christian recollect without a pang, that he has neglected, disobeyed and grieved his Father, his Sovereign, his Benefactor, through fear of offending a fellow-worm. or to gratify some base lust, or to avoid some trifling evil, or to obtain some imaginary good? 0, it may well wring our hearts with anguish to reflect what weak temptations, what insignificant trifles have led us to sin; have had more weight with us than the wishes, the commands, the entreaties of that Friend for whom we ought to think it an honor and a privilege to shed our blood. Surely then, my brethren, we cannot but repent. Surely the overwhelming goodness of God must lead us to repentance, and constrain us to turn to him with our whole hearts, with weeping and mourning and humble confession. Surely, we must approach the table of our still forgiving, though often offended Lord, with feelings like those of the penitent who washed the Saviour's feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. And we shall go from his table, crying, What shall I render to the Lord for all his benefits? and resolving to bring forth fruits meet for repentance. By all your hopes of heaven, by all that God has done for your souls, by the dying love of his Son, who is here set forth crucified before you, and of whose flesh and blood you are now to partake, I beseech and conjure you to do this; to live as becomes those for whose sakes so much has been done, and to present yourselves afresh, as living sacrifices, holy and acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service. If you refuse or neglect to do this, how can you any longer profess a hope in Christ, or come any more to histable? As often as you approach it, you publicly profess a hope that God has done, or will do for your souls, every thing which has now been mentioned. And can you express such a DONE FOR MY SOUL. 551 hope as this, without living in a corresponding manner? Can you bear to say, one hour, I believe, or hope that God has done all this for my soul, and the next hour, say by your conduct, I feel no gratitude, and shall make him no returns? Can you bear that the world should have occasion to say, there is a man who professes to believe that God has done, we know not how many wonderful things for his soul, and yet he shows little more thankfuilness, or religious sensibility or concern for his Master's honor, than we do, who profess nothing? 0, my brethren, we must, we must, be consistent. We must either cease to express a hope that God has done all this for us, or we must live as becomes those for whom so much has been done. We must either love much, or cease to express a hope that much has been forgiven us. I need not tell you that nothing is more irksome than to hear a person whose life exhibits little of the power of religion, adopt the language of our text, and relate a long tale of his conversion and religious experience. The language of open impiety itself is not so disgusting. How inexpressibly loathsome, then, must we appear to the holy, heart-searching God, if we call him our God, style ourselves his children, address him in long prayers, and come to his table, while he sees little or no love, zeal or sincerity in our hearts. Well may he compare such persons to lukewarm water, and cast them from him with disgust, exclaiming, I would thou wert either cold or hot. Yet even such characters he will freely forgive, if they now repent. Let none be driven away by a sense of guilt. Let us come rather and present him that sacrifice of a broken heart which he will never despise, however unworthy the hand that offers it. Do this, my brethren, and the reception of new pardon and new mercies, will give you new reason to cry, Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what he hath done for my soul. BLESSED RECIPROCITY. THE RECIPROCAL INTEREST OF CHRIST AND HIS PEOPLE. My Beloved is mine, and I am his. SONG II. 10. THE most learned, judicious and pious commentators, both Jewish and Christian, have ever considered, this book, as a kind of parable, or allegory, which represents in a highly figurative, but striking manner, the mutual affection which subsists between Christ and his church. The correctness of this view is confirmed by the fact, that, in both the Old and New Testaments, Christ is often represented as the husband of his church, whilst the church is styled the bride, the Lamb's wife. The apostle indeed, intimates, that the marriage union was designed by God to exemplify the union between the Saviour and his people,adding, this is a great mystery. And however strange or improper some of the figurative expressions in this book, which refer to that mystery, may appear to us, they are perfectly agreeable to the manners and language of eastern nations, and were deemed fit and proper by those in whose age and country they were written. The persons who are introduced as speaking in this allegorical drama, are Christ, his church and her companions, who are called the daughters of Jerusalem. The words of our text were uttered by the church. I need not tell you to whom they refer. CHRIST EMBRACED. ETC. 553 I need not tell you that Christ, and he alone, is emphatically the beloved of his church. He it is, whom having not seen they love; for Christ himself informs us, that he has not a real disciple on earth, who does not love him more than possessions, friends or life itself. Now every such disciple, every real Christian may say, Christ is mine and I am his. To illustrate and establish this assertion, is my present design. I. Every real Christian may say, Christ is mine. There are five different ways in which any thing may become ours. The first is by formation, or production. In this way the articles which we construct, and the fruits of the earth which our labor produces, become ours. The second is by purchase, or exchange. In this way we obtain many things which were previously the property of others. The third is by inheritance. In this manner we become possessed of the property of deceased relatives. The fourth is by conquest. In this manner many things are acquired, especially by sovereign princes. The last is by gift. In this manner whatever is bestowed on us by the generosity of others, becomes our property. Among all these ways, there is only one in which Christ can become ours. He cannot become ours by formation, for he created us, and not we him. He cannot become ours by right of inheritance; for we are the offspring of a degenerate race and can inherit nothing from them but sin and misery. He cannot become ours by purchase; for he will not sell himself, and if he would, who is rich enough to pay the price? He cannot become ours by conquest, for who is able to overcome Omnipotence? There is but one other way in which any thing can become ours, viz. by gift; and in this way Christ becomes the property of all his people. In the first place, he is given to them by his Father. HIerein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and gave his Son that he might be a propitiation for our sins. God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son. And again, he gave him to be head over all things to his church. In the second place, Christ gives himself to his people. He loved me, says the apostle, and gave himself for me. Christ loved the church and gave himself for it. In thus giving himself for us, he gave himself to us; for he speaks of giving us his flesh to eat, his blood to drink, his soul to be an offering for our sins, and his Spirit to dwell in and sanctify us. Since then ,554 SELF SURRENDERED, Christ is thus given to us by his Father, and by himself, notning is necessary to make him ours but the cordial reception of this gift. But every Christian does cordially receive him, by faith, as the free, unmerited gift of God, and thus Christ becomes his, so that he may exclaim, My beloved is mine, my Saviour, my Head, my Life, my everlasting portion. II. And as Christ is the property of all true Christians, so, all Christians are his. We have already mentioned the various ways in which the property of any thing may be acquired. In all these ways Christians are the property of Christ. In the first place, they are his by creation; for by him and for him they were created. Their existence is not only given, but preserved by him; for he upholds all things by the word of his power. He it is that made us, and not we ourselves; so that we are the sheep of his pasture and the people of his hand. In the second place, they are his byinheritance; for we are told that the Father hath appointed him heir of all things. As the first-born and only begotten Son of God, he is sole heir of all the Father's possessions. Of this ample inheritance, the church is, in an especial manner, a part; for we read that the Lord's portion is his people; Israel is the lot of his inheritance. In the third place, they are his by purchase; for he has bought them, bought them with his own blood. If it be asked, how he could purchase what was already his own; I reply, though they were his by right of creation and of inheritance, yet they had fraudulently sold themselves to other masters, and by so doing had forfeited their lives into the hands of justice. The justice of God, and the law of God, had a claim upon them which must be satisfied, before the Saviour could claim them as his. This claim Christ satisfied. He gave himself a sacrifice in their stead, and thus redeemed or ransomed them from the curse of the law and from the fires of hell. Hence the language of the apostle, ye have sold yourselves for naught and ye shall be ransomed without money. They are so. Ye know, says the apostle to Christians, that ye were not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot. Ye are not therefore y:ur qwn, ye are bought with a price. In the fourth place, Christians are the property of Christ by CHRIST EMBRACED. 555 right of conquest. If it be asked, how it could be necessary, that Christ should acquire the possession of them both by purchase and conquest, I answer, after he had paid the price of their redemption, the tyrants to whom they had sold themselves refused to give them up. They had sold themselves to sin, and thus became its slaves; for whoso committeth sin is the slave of sin, and in consequence of this, they were holden as captives by the cord of their iniquities. By thus becoming slaves to sin, they had rendered themselves the captives ofsatan, so that they were led captive by him at his will, and he as a strong man armed, kept possession of their hearts as his castle. Being then the captives of him who has the power of death, they became subject to death, and liable to be shut up, not only in the grave, but in hell. From all these tyrants, it therefore becomes necessary to rescue them by force. This Christ has done. He, as the Lord of hosts, the Lord strong and. mighty in battle, is stronger than the strong man armed. By the power of his grace he saves his people from their sins, breaking the otherwise indestructible cords in which they were bound. He has also defeated and spoiled the principalities and powers of darkness, triumphing over them in his cross. He has entered the dominions of death, taken away his sting, and received the keys both of the grave and of hell. Hence we are told, that when he ascended on high, he led captivity captive, that is, he led as captives those enemies, who had captivated and enslaved his people. Nor was this all. It was also necessary that he should conquer his people, for they had become enemies to him, by wicked works. The language of their hearts and of their conduct was, We will not have this man to reign over us. What was the state of their hearts we may learn from the impressive language of the apostle. The weapons of our warfare, says he, are mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds, casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ. From this passage, it appears that the minds of men are full of strong holds, high things, and lofty imaginations, which oppose and keep out the knowledge of God; and all these things Christ is obliged to cast down and destroy, before his people become willing to obey him. Weli then may it be said that they are his by right of conquest. 556 SELF SURREN DERED. Hence, lastly, they become his by gift. In the first place, they are given to him by his Father. This is asserted in places too numerous to mention. We shall quote but one. Speaking of Christians in his last intercessory prayer, he says to his Father, Thine they were, and thou gavest them to me; and all thine are mine. In the second place, all true Christians have voluntarily given themselves to Christ. Conquered by his grace, constrained by his love, and gratefully affected by what he has done for them, they have freely and joyfully given away themselves to him, to be his forever, and consecrated all their powers and faculties to his service. Thus a union is formed between Christ and his church, which is by the inspired writers compared to the marriage union, and to that which subsists between the head and the members of the human body. He becomes bound to. them, and they to him, by the bonds of an everlasting covenant, which shall never be broken; and they may therefore triumphantly exclaim, Our beloved is ours and we are his, and nothing shall ever dissolve this union or separate us from him. But it may perhaps be asked, since Christ is but one and Christians are many, how can each individual Christian possess Christ, so as to say with propriety, Christ is mine? I answer, because there is a sufficiency in Christ for all. He is infinite, and Christians are finite; and all finite beings united cannot exhaust infinity Besides, it is the nature of every blessing which God has given us to be shared in common, that each one may possess it, without excluding others. Take for instance the sun. God designed this luminary to be a common blessing. There is therefore light and heat in it sufficient for all. Each one of you, my friends, derives the same advantages from the sun, as if there were no person to share them with you. What if thousands and millions in other parts of the world, and in other planets around it, are at this moment possessing and rejoicing in the sun's light and warmth? Does that at all deprive you of these blessings? Is not the sun still as much yours as your happiness requires? Could it be more perfectly yours, if you were the only being on whom it shines? Now Christ is the Sun of righteousness, and every one who will look to him as such, may possess him as perfectly as if there were not another Christian in the world, to share in his beams. Hence, as every person who has eyes, may CHRIST EMBRACED. 557 say, the sun is mine, God has given it to me, to warm, enlighten, and guide me; so every Christian may say, Christ is mine; God has given him to me, to bless, to guide and save me with an everlasting salvation. The subject we have been considering, my friends, is to the Christian, full, not only of consolation, but of instruction. To some of the most important truths which it teaches, I propose to call your attention. 1. From this subject you may learn something of the worth and interest of the Christian's portion. A pious man once visited a friend, who had recently come into possession of a very large landed property. His friend, after some conversation, led him to the top of his house which commanded an extensive pros*pect, and directing his attention successively to a great number of valuable objects, added, after the mention of each particular, "that is mine." After he had finished the long catalogue of his possessions, his guest asked, Do you see yonder cottage on the waste? There lives a poor widow who can say more than you can; she can say, Christ is mine. My friends, did the rich man or the poor widow, possess the more valuable property? But the very question is dishonorable to Christ. Could the rich man have pointed to the sun and moon, the planets, and the fixed stars, and said with truth, all these are mine: still his possessions, weighed against the poor widow's treasure, would have been lighter than vanity. The Creator must be worth infinitely more than the whole creation. He can do that for those who possess him, which the whole creation cannot do. He can wash away their sins, he can sanctify their natures, he can support them under afflictions, he can prepare them for death, he can fill their souls with happiness, and he can make that happiness eternal; neither of which the whole creation could do for its possessor. 0 how rich then, how incalculably rich is the poorest Christian! He is the only being who is not now able and who never will be able to calculate the worth of his possessions. In possessing Christ, he possesses all things, for he possesses him who created and who disposes of all things. He is a joint heir with him who is heir of all things. Well then might the apostle say to Christians, all things are yours. Well may Christ say to his poorest disciple, I know thy poverty, but thou art rich. And well may every Christian, contemplating his portion, 558 SELF SU R E NDE E D. cry, Thanks, thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift! 2. We may learn from our subject to whom this incomparable gift belongs; who it is that without presumption, may say, Christ is mine. Every man, my friends, may say this, who can with truth repeat the other part of our text; who can truly say, Christ is my beloved and I am his property. The relation between Christ and his people, like that between a father and a son, is mutual. As no man can say respecting another, he is my father, unless he can truly add, I am his son; so no one can say of Christ, he is mine; unless he can truly add, I am his; and no one can in this sense say, I am Christ's, unless he has freely given himself to Christ, to be his forever. Nor can any one thus give himself to Christ, who does not love him with supreme affection, who cannot say, he is emphatically my beloved. Can you then my friends say this? Is Christ emphatically he whom your souls love? Have you freely and joyfully given yourselves to him, in an everlasting covenant, to be his and his only? If so, he has no less freely given himself to you. He has loved you and given himself for you, for his language is, I love them that love me. Whenever then you can be sure that you love Christ, you may feel assured that he loves you. When you can with truth say, I am Christ's, you may always with truth add, Christ is mine. But those who cannot with truth utter the whole of this passage, cannot with truth utter any part of it; and if they attempt so to do, they will put asunder what God has joined, and finally perish in their own unbelief. 3. From this subject, my Christian friends, you may learn the extent of your duty. I am Christ's, are words easily said, but the engagements which they imply are not so easily fulfilled. If we are his, we are no longer our own. If we are his, then every thing that we possess is his —our time, our possessions, our strength, our influence, our powers of body and faculties of mind, all are his, and must be consecrated to his service and glory; and if we love him supremely, they will be so, for the whole man ever follows the heart. The object which possesses our hearts, will possess ourselves. And if we are Christ's, we shall make his cause our own, his interest our own, his honor our own, and shall rejoice when we are counted worthy to suffer pain and shame for his name. This the apostle CHRIST EMBRACED. 559 speaks of, as a truth with which he presumed all Christians were acquainted. What, know ye not that ye are not your own, for ye are bought with a price? Glorify God therefore, in your bodies and your spirits which are God's. For none of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself; for whether we live, we live unto the Lord, or whether we die, we die unto the Lord; whether we live, therefore, or die, we are the Lord's. If this view of the obligations which are implied in saying, I am Christ's, appears discouraging, consider for your own encouragement, 4. How great are the privileges which result from an ability to say, Christ is mine. If Christ is yours, then all that he possesses is yours. His power is yours to defend you, his wisdom and knowledge are yours to guide you, his righteousness is yours to justify you, his Spirit and grace are yours to sanctify you, his heaven is yours to receive you. He is as much yours as you are his, and as he requires all that you have to be given to him, so he gives all that he has to you. Come to him, then, with holy boldness and take what is your own. Remember you have already received what is most precious, and what it was most difficult for him to give, his body, his blood, his life. And surely he who has given them, will not refuse you smaller blessings. If when you were enemies to God, you were reconciled to him by the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, you shall be saved by his life. You will never live happily or usefully, you will never highly enjoy or greatly adorn religion, until you can feel that Christ, and all that he possesses, are yours; and learn to come and take them as your own. Then you will have all and abound, and find that in possessing Christ you do indeed possess many things. 5. From this subject, my professing friends, you may learn what is the nature of the ordinance which you are about to celebrate, and what you are about to do at the Lord's table. In this ordinance we give ourselves to Christ, and he gives himself to us. He gives us himself in the symbols of his body and blood, and we renew the dedication of ourselves to him. He gives himself to us as a sacrifice slain for our sins, and we present ourselves as living sacrifices, holy and acceptable to him. This is the language of our conduct at the Lord's table. Is it also the language of your hearts? Are they saying, Christ: 560 SELF SURRENDERED. my friend, my beloved is mine, and I am his willingly, joyfully his? If so, come and receive Christ, for he is yours. Come and give yourself to Christ, for you are his. One word to those who are about to depart, and I have done. You have heard, my friends, that those who will give themselves to Christ, shall receive him il return. This exchange I now propose to you. I offer you Christ's heart in exchange for yours. SEARCHING RETROSPECTION. FORMER INSTRUCTIONS RECOLLECTED AND APPLIED. Now of the things which we have spoken unto you, this is the sum. HEB. viII. 1. THESE words compose the preface to a brief recapitulation of the doctrines which the writer had stated more fully in the preceding part of this epistle. I propose, on the present occasion, to make a similar use of them. If the apostle thought it proper to repeat what he had written, and which might, therefore, if forgotten, be easily read afresh, it surely cannot be improper for the speaker to remind you of what has been merely spoken in your hearing, and which, if forgotten, you have no opportunity to review. And as it cannot be improper, so I trust it may not be altogether unprofitable, to give you a brief and general summary of the truths which have been exhibited in this place for a few months past. The beneficial effects which such a measure has a tendency to produce, and which it possibly may produce, are great and numerous. It may convince you, that a much larger portion of God's revealed truth has been presented to your view, in a comparatively short space of time, than you are perhaps aware of. It may lead you to inquire, what effect all this truth has produced. If when heard, it made any impressions upon your minds, a review of it may revive those in VOL. I. 71 562 TRUTH RECALLED pressions. If it made no impression, you may be led to inquire the cause. For these, and other reasons which will presently appear, I propose to recall your attention to the subjects of my late discourses. In doing this, I shall go back only to the last Sabbath of the last year, and endeavor to give you a general view of the truths, which, since that time, have been exhibited to this church and society. On the last Sabbath of the last year, you were addressed from these words of our Lord, selected from a familiar parable: And the door was shut. It was shown that the door here mentioned was the door of admission to a place in which Christ was, and the following proposition was stated as the doctrine of the text: The time is approaching, when the door of admission to every place where Christ is, will be shut against all whom that time finds unprepared. This, it was remarked, implies that the door is now open, open to the prayers and the praises of all who will enter in. The door of admission to the means of grace and ordinances of religion in which Christ manifests himself, is open; the door of admission to his church is open; the door of admission to heaven is open. But the time is approaching, when all these doors will be shut forever against the persons, and against the prayers of all whom death finds unprepared. You were reminded that before the close of the present year, the door would thus be shut against some of you, and you were invited, entreated, urged by every motive, to guard against final exclusion from Christ and from heaven, by entering in without delay. The church were also reminded that the door of usefulness would soon be shut against them, that the only opportunity of praying for their children and friends, and laboring for their salvation, would soon be gone forever. I know of no effect produced by this sermon. It may possibly have produced some temporary effect on the church. On the congregation 1 have no reason to suppose it produced any. Soon after this, your attention was called to these words of Jehovah: I am God, and there is none else; I am God, and there is none like me. In a discourse on these words, an attempt was made to present God to your view, as he is exhibited in the Scriptures. Proofs and illustrations were exhibited of the fact, AND APPLIED. 563 that he is an eternal, self-existent, independent Spirit, infinite in power, in knowledge, in wisdom, in goodness, justice, faithfulness, mercy and truth, the Creator, Preserver, and rightful Sovereign of all creatures and all worlds. His claims to our supreme love, confidence and obedience, founded on these perfections and relations, were pressed upon you, and you were urged by all that is great, and by all that is good in his character, to submit to him and choose him as your God. At the same time, the infinite evil, malignity and danger of sin, as committed against such a Being, were presented to your view, and you were entreated to hate it, forsake it, repent of it. The next discourse of which I would remind you, was on these words: Am I in God's stead? The sentiment deduced from this passage was, that no creature can supply to us the place of God, or do that for us which God can do, and which is necessary to our happiness. This sentiment was explained, and its truth made evident, by an appeal to facts. It was shown that no created object can make us happy, even in this world, that no creature can guard us against affliction, from sickness, or death, or pardon our sins, or sanctify our natures, and that all creatures united, can do nothing for us beyond the grave. Hence was inferred the folly, as well as sinfulness, of putting any created object in the place of God, and of neglecting him, in order to secure the applause, or escape the censures of mankind. The first and great command is, thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, was the subject of the next discourse which I shall mention. In meditating on this command, we considered its import, its reasonableness, and the justice of its claims to be called the first and great command. In explaining its import, we showed that it requires us to love God with the highest degree of affection, of which our natures are capable, to love him, of course, more than we love ourselves. The reasonableness of the command was argued, fronmthe infinite perfection and loveliness of the Divine character, from the intimate relation which subsists between him and us considered as his creatures, from the numerous and inestimable favors which he has bestowed upon us, and from the impossibility of finding any other object 564 TRUTH RECALLED worthy to rival him in our affections. In proof that this is justly called the first and greatest of God's commands, it was stated that it does in effect include all the other commands of God, and that unless we obey it, we cannot obey a single precept of the divine law. In the improvement, it was shown, that we have all disobeyed this precept, that we are under the strongest obligations to repent of this disobedience, that if we repent of it, we shall be pardoned, that if we do not, our condemnation is certain and perfectly just. All the people wept, when they heard the words of the law, was the text of another discourse, which, about the same time, solicited your attention. The object of that discourse was, to show what reason sinful creatures like ourselves have, to feel those emotions of which weeping is the expression, when the law of God is exhibited to their view; or, in other words, why they ought to repent of having transgressed it. The reasons mentioned, were the unrivalled excellence of the law, the character and works of its author, and the dreadful effects which transgressing it have produced upon our bodies, our souls, and our fellow creatures. It was further added, that the gospel of Christ is full of reasons why we should mourn and weep in view of our disobedience to the law, and that no one, who possesses a particle of love to his Saviour, can refrain from lamenting the degradation, the agonies to which our sins subjected him, but to which he cheerfully submitted for our sakes. In the improvement it was remarked, that we must either obey the numerous commands which call upon us to repent, or assert that they must be blotted from the Bible; that we must either condemn all who have repented of their sins, or imitate their example. Permit me next to remind you of a discourse, in which the speaker exerted himself to the utmost extent of his power, to rouse you from the state of fatal security in which you seemed to be slumbering. The theme of this discourse, was the following tremendous threatening: It is a people of no understanding; therefore he that made them will not have mercy on them, and he that formed them will show them no favor. In discoursing on this subject, I endeavored to show, that by understanding is AND APPLIED. 565 nere meant spiritual understanding, or that heavenly wisdom which consists in the knowledge of God, and of which the fear of God is said to be the beginning. It was farther remarked, that the persons to whom this threatening was originally addressed, had long enjoyed the means of grace,-means, which, if rightly improved, would have made them wise unto salvation, but which they had neglected and abused. I endeavored to prove, by plain, undeniable facts, that you have been favored with even greater means and privileges, but that many of you have neglected to improve them, and are in consequence without understanding, in the sense of the text, and exposed to the threatenings which it denounces. The awful import of the threatening was then exhibited. We showed it to be this: God will deal with them in strict justice, according to the rules of his revealed law. In other words, he will treat them as they deserve; that is, first, he will either deny them the common blessings of his providence, or grant them those blessings in anger, and send a curse with them; secondly, he will either deprive them of their religious privileges and opportunities, or withhold his blessing and thus render them useless; thirdly, he will deny them the influences of his good Spirit, and give them up to blindness of mind and hardness of heart, and thus render their destruction certain. These awful truths we pressed upon you with the utmost earnestness, and concluded by reminding you, that should they produce no salutary effect, it would furnish additional reason to fear that God had determined not to have mercy on you, and to show you no favor. What if some did not believe? Shall their unbelief make the faith of God without efect? God forbid! In a discourse on these words it was shown, that man's disbelief of God's threatenings will by no means prevent the execution of these threatenings. It will not, because God foresaw that unbelief when he uttered them. It will not, because that unbelief, by calling his veracity in question, renders it necessary for him to establish it by fulfilling all his threatenings. It will not, because it never has done so. Our first parents did not believe God's threatenings; the inhabitants of the old world, of Sodom, did not believe them; the Jews did not believe them; yet in all these cases they were executed. And so they ever will be. 566 TRUTH RECALLED For what man knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man which is in him? Even so the things of God knoweth no man, but the Spirit of God. In a discourse on this passage, I remarked, that by the things of a man are evidently meant his secret thoughts and feelings. These we cannot know till they are expressed either by looks, actions or words. In other words, we cannot read the hearts of our fellow creatures. Much less can we read the heart of God, or know any thing of his thoughts, feelings and designs, unless they are revealed to us by his Spirit, by whom alone they are known. Hence we inferred, that a revelation of the mind and will of God is unspeakably desirable, and even necessary for our happiness; that the revelation which he has given us in the Bible, is to be highly prized: that his goodness in granting it to us, claims our most thankful acknowledgements; that the aid of his Spirit, by whom it was dictated, is necessary to a right understanding of it; and that it is the height of folly to trust to our own reasonings and conjectures respecting what God ought to do, when he hasactually informed us what he will do. God is angry with the wicked every day. If he turn not, he will whet his sword, he hath bent his bow and made it ready. He hath also prepared for themn the instruments of death. In discoursing on this passage, I remarked, that all are wicked, who are not righteous; that God is highly and constantly displeased with the wicked, and feels towards them the strong antipathy of good to bad; that this displeasure being caused by the unutterable holiness of his nature must continue forever; that he will express it, not by the rod, but by the sword, not by instruments of correction, but by instruments of death, and that it is impossible for them to escape its effects in any other way, than by turning from their sins, and turning to him. The imagination of man's heart is evilfrom his youth. In a discourse on these words, I attempted to explain and establish the doctrine of human depravity, or the depravity of man's heart. It was remarked, that when we assert any thing to be depraved, or corrupted, we mean that it is not what it originally was, or that it is altered for the worse. We mean the same, when we assert that the human heart is depraved. We mean AND APPLIED. 567 that it is not what it was originally, but is altered for the worse. If we would ascertain how much it is altered for the worse, or what is the extent of its depravity, we must compare it with a perfectly good or holy heart. So far as it differs from such a heart, so far it is depraved. I then remarked, 1. That a perfectly good heart can have no feelings or desires which it would be wrong to express. But our hearts have such feelings and desires, therefore they are depraved. 2. A perfectly good heart will ever prompt its possessor to do all the good in his power. If then, our hearts do not prompt us to do good, they are depraved. 3. A perfectly good heart will always be in perfect subjection to reason and conscience. If our hearts do not submit to these guides, they are depraved. 4. A perfectly good heart is always perfectly obedient to the law of God. In other words, it leads its possessor to love God with all the heart, and his neighbor as himself. If our hearts are not thus obedient, if they do not thus love God and our neighbor, they are depraved. Unto them that are defiled and unbelieving is nothing pure; but even their mind and conscience is defiled. In discoursing on this passage, I endeavored to show that the depravity of the heart, already mentioned, extended its corrupting influence to the intellectual faculties of man, rendering their minds blind to all spiritual objects, and their consciences insensible to the evil of many sins, which, in the estimation of God, are of the first magnitude. Hence it was inferred, that our understandings and consciences are not safe guides, without the word and the Spirit of God, and that we must, in obedience to the divine command, trust in the Lord with all our heart. If thy hand or thy foot offend thee, cut them off and cast them from thee; it is better for thee to enter into life halt or maimed, rather than having two hands, or two feet, to be cast into everlastingfire. In discoursing on this passage, I observed, that to offend, in the sense of the text, is to tempt, or cause us to sin, and endeavored to show that every object, which thus offends us, must be removed, however dear or necessary it may be. 568 TRUTH RECA LLED Where their worm dieth not, and their fire is not quenched. The discourse on this text was delivered so recently, that I would hope it is not yet entirely forgotten; and that the bare mention of it, will be sufficient to recall its leading sentiments to your minds. Without further noticing it, therefore, I proceed to remark, that the discourses which I have mentioned, in which the terrors of the Lord were exhibited, were interspersed with nearly an equal number, in which the mercy of God, the way of salvation by Jesus Christ, and his gracious invitations were pressed upon your attention. In a sermon on the subject of the prodigal son, we showed you God's readiness to receive and forgive returning sinners, even while they were yet a great way off. In another, on the text, God commendeth his love towards us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us, we attempted to display the wonderful love which he exhibited in the gift of his Son. In a third, we showed that in Jesus Christ dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily, and that he is ready to impart a portion of this fulness to all who come to him. In a fourth, we described his coming into the world; in a fifth, his ascension to heaven, and in a sixth his coming to judge the world. Another on the passage, 0 Lord, lam oppressed, undertake for me, you probably recollect. Faith, repentance, the manner in which we must pray, if we would pray acceptably, composed the subjects of the other discourses. Other texts, which I can only mention, were these: Have ye your hearts yet hardened? Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by? Noah walked with God. He that denieth the Son, the same hath not the Father. See that ye refise not him that speaketh; for if they'escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape, if we turn away from him that speaketh from heaven. These texts I mention, because the mention of them may possibly remind you of the sermons, with which they were connected. A number nearly equal to all I have noticed, must be passed over entirely, that we may reserve room for a suitable improvement )f the subject. Of one more, however, I will remind you, which was preached little more than a month since, on the fol. lowing text: —If the good man of the house had known at what AND APPLIED. 569 hour the thief would come, he would have watched, and would not have suffered his house to he broken up. After explaining the passage and its connection with the context, I endeavored to show how impenitent sinners and Christians would be affected by knowing the time of their deaths, and urged both classes to live for one month, as they would do did they know that they had but a month to live. I promised, God assisting me, to endeavor to preach as if my labors were to end with the month, and entreated you to hear as if, after that time had expired, you were to hear no more. I will only add, that so far as I can discover, there has been less religious zeal and sensibility manifested among us since than there was before. But I can proceed no further in giving you a summary of the truth which has been exhibited. Had I been aware of the difficulty of performing the task, I should not have undertaken it. I fear that you have found it wearisome, and scarcely can hope that it will prove in the smallest degree profitable. Let us, however, endeavor to make the best improvement of it which is in our power. I. Let me request you to reflect seriously how large a portion of revealed truth, and of that part of it too, which is most alarming, most interesting, and most calculated to reach the conscience and affect the heart, has been exhibited to you since the present year commenced. Nearly all the most important doctrines of the Bible and many of its most important precepts have been mentioned in the preceding sketch. Yet I have mentioned little more than half of the discourses which you have heard from the speaker on the Sabbath. Of what you have heard from other ministers, and of the subjects discussed at our evening lectures, I have said nothing. My hearers, were you sensible that so much truth had been pressed upon you, that almost the whole contents of revelation had been, as it were, poured upon your heads within a few months? 2. Let me ask, whether all these truths ought not to have produced some lasting, salutary effect upon your temper and conduct? Can you conceive of truth more important, more interesting, more suited to influence the understanding, awaken the conscience, and affect the heart? Even if they were less important than they are, ought not the character and the authority of that God who has revealed them, to have secured our beVOL I. 72 570 TRUTH RECALLED lief, our submission and obedience! In a word, if these truths do not affect men, do not reform them, do not induce them to work out their own salvation, can you conceive of any truths which will do it'? Permit me to inquire, 3. What effect all this truth has produced upon you? Has it produced any salutary effects? Has it imparted to you any knowledge of God, of yourselves, of your duty? Has it made you wise to salvation? Are any of you truly religious characters now, who were not so at the commencement of the year? Are any attending seriously to religion now, who then treated it with neglect? Have those of you who then professed a religious character, made any progress in religion? Or has all this truth flowed over this assembly, like water over a rock and produced no effect? If it does not produce good effects, it produces those which are bad. If it does not soften, ithardens the heart. If it does not prove a savor of life unto life, it proves a savor of death unto death, for God has solemnly declared that it shall not return unto him void, it shall produce effects of one kind or the other. Indeed, it is evident from the very nature of things, that it must be so. When the declarations, the threatenings and the promises of God are urged upon the heart, it must either receive or reject them. And if it rejects them, then it must in the very act of rejecting them, harden itself, and increase its own obstinacy. Besides, whenever we hear the truth without yielding to it, we increase our guilt. We are guilty of a great sin, guilty of disbelieving what God asserts, of disobeying his commands. For all this, we must give an account. Of every portion of divine truth which is exhibited to us, and every opportunity which we enjoy of hearing it, we must give an account. If we derive no benefit from it, the fault is our own. Does not my word, says Jehovah, do good to them who walk uprightly? a question which is equivalent to an assertion that it does. If, then, that portion of God's word which you have heard, has done you no good, it is because you have not walked uprightly. From these remarks, it appears that all on whom the truth has produced no salutary effects, have been constantly increasing in sinfulness and guilt, and have done much to provoke God to forsake them forever. Perhaps, on hearing this, some will say, since this is the case, it will be advisable for us to hear the AND APPLIED. 571 truth no more, and to absent ourselves, for the remainder of our lives, from the house of God. My hearers, I met, a few days since, with a well authenticated account of one, who, in a neighboring State, adopted this very resolution. In vain did his pastor and his pious friends urge him to renounce it. He maintained it till he came to his dying bed. Then he saw its folly, its madness. His remorse was great, his dying agonies terrible; he died without hope. If you wish to die in a similar manner, imitate his conduct. If you wish to die in a manner equally terrible and hopeless, continue to hear the truth without believing or obeying it; but if you would die the death of the righteous, and have your latter end like his, you must not only hear, but believe and obey it. 4. Although it is never pleasant, and seldom proper, for a minister to speak of himself, yet I trust you will pardon me for reminding you how exceedingly discouraging and distressing it must be to the speaker, to see almost no salutary effects produced by his labors, and to know that while they are producing no salutary effects, they are producing effects of an opposite kind. Put yourselves for a moment in his situation. Think what it must be with a body and mind exhausted and worn out, to toil in preparing a sermon which he is almost certain will do no good. Think what it must be to come, Sabbath after Sabbath, for months together, and warn, threaten, and entreat, while none regard it. Above all, think what it must be, for a minister to see his people hardening in their sins, treasuring up wrath and rushing on to destruction, endless, irretrievable destruction, while all his efforts to save them, are frustrated by their unbelief. If any of you are ready to censure me for desponding, and feeling tempted to suspend my exertions, let me ask them, what I shall do. What means shall I employ? What shall I say to you? What can I say, which I have not said 3 What reason have I to hope, that should I labor through the remainder of the year, my exertions will not still prove ineffectual? Will you say, perhaps, God may bless them and ren.. der them effectual? Alas, how can I hope for this when I see so many, not only in the congregation, but in the church, doing all in their power, by their unbelief and hardness of heart, to grieve the Spirit of God, and provoke him to forsake us forever, 572 TRUTH RE CALLED We are far more undeserving of the blessing now, than we were at the commencement of the year. To some of you, all this may appear little better than weakness and folly, but were you called on, as are the ministers of Christ, to sit down and contemplate in solitude the infallible truth of God's word, and the awful threatenings which it contains; were you obliged to look steadily at death and judgment and the eternal world, and to contemplate the miseries of the wicked in the regions of despair; and then turn and see the living hastening to those miseries, you would find it no trifle. But perhaps some hearer will say, it may afford consolation and encouragement to reflect that the church at least will derive some benefit from the truths exhibited to them. The church, the church in its present state, afford encouragement! It is true, some few of them do, and most heartily do I thank them for it. But to contemplate it as a body, it affords any thing rather than encouragement. I will not, however, judge them, but call upon them to judge themnselves. Say, professor-I address each individual-would it afford the speaker any encouragement to know just how much you have been affected by each of the discourses mentioned above? Would it afford him any encouragement to enter unseen your closet, and listen to your prayers, and look into your hearts and see how much, or rather, how little you feel? I doubt not indeed that there are closets and hearts among you, a sight of which would console and encourage me; but can you doubt that were I to see the church as God sees it, every ray of hope and consolation, and encouragement, would vanish at once? Indeed, it is the little effect which the truth produces on those who profess to believe it, which more than any thing else, occasions discouragement. Do you recollect, professor, what was said to you at the close of the sermon on the worm that never dies, and the fire that is not quenched? Has it produced any salutary effect? Do you recollect the statement that every one who delights in the law of the Lord, and meditates therein day and night, shall be flourishing and fruitful like a tree planted by the rivers of water? Did that produce any effect? Could I see you properly affected by the truth, could I see you escaping from that worldly spirit which now eats out all the life of your religion; could I see any thing like a general prev AND APPLIED..573 alence of religious feelings and meditation among you, it would at once strengthen my hands, encourage my heart, and animate me to labor with hopes of success. But at present, if asked in the language of the prophet, what are those wounds in thy hands, I must answer in his words: They are those wherewith I was wounded in the house of my friends. THE NEW JERUSALEM. AND the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it; for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof. REV. xxi. 23. THE beloved disciple in this chapter gives us a particular description of the heavenly world, as it appeared to him in vision. In condescension to our infirmities, which render it difficult for us to form clear conceptions of invisible and spiritual things, this happy world is represented to us as a magnificent city which, in allusion to the ancient metropolis of Judea, is styled the New Jerusalem. To show the symmetry and proportion, which prevail in heaven, and the perfect safety of its inhabitants, this city is said to be four square, and to be surrounded by a wall, great and high, with a guard of angels at every gate. It had three gates on every side, to show that, from all parts of the world, there is a way open to heaven for those who are suitably qualified to enjoy it; and that persons will come from the East, and the West, and the North, and the South, to sit down together in the kingdom of God. On these gates the names of the twelve tribes of Israel were inscribed, to intimate that none but the true Israel of God will be allowed to enter therein. On the twelve precious stones, which composed the foundations of the city walls, were engraved the names of the THE NEW JERUSALEM. 575 twelve apostles of the Lamb; intimating, that the church in heaven, like the church on earth, is built upon the foundation of the prophets and apostles, Jesus Christ himself being the chief Corner Stone. To show how far heaven exceeds the world in which we live, those things which we here prize most highly are represented as being there applied to the most common and ordinary uses. The wall itself was composed of jasper, its foundations of the most precious stones; its gates of pearl, and even the streets were paved with the purest gold, transparent as glass. Conceive then, my friends, if you are able, how splendid, how glorious, how dazzling such a city must appear, thus composed of gold, pearls, diamonds, and all manner of precious stones, when the sun poured upon it his meridian beams, and filled every part of it with a blaze of light. Yet even this falls far short of the truth; for the city was illuminated not by the beams of the natural sun, but by the glory of God, and the rays of the Sun of Righteousness. Nor is this all. To us nothing is more cheering, more valuable, more necessary than the light of the sun; and without it, the most magnificent cities would lose all their beauty in our eyes. But in the New Jerusalem even this is not wanted; for, says the apostle, the city had no need of the sun, or of the moon to shine in it; for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof. It is this part of the apostle's description which I propose more particularly to consider; and my object is to show that the inhabitants of heaven have no need of the sun, or any other created luminary. With a view to illustrate and establish this truth, let us inquire what are the purposes for which we need the celestial bodies, while we reside in this lower world. These purposes are particularly enumerated in the first chapter of Genesis, where we have an account of their creation. And God said, let there be light in the firmament of heaven, to divide the day from the night, and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and for years; and let them be for lights in the firmament of heaven, to give light upon the earth. Such are the purposes for which the heavenly luminaries were created; such the uses which they were designed to subserve. But for none of these purposes will they be needed by the inhabitants of the heavenly world. 576 THE NEW JERUSALEM. I. The principal purpose here mentioned, for which the heavenly bodies were created, and for which we need them in this lower world is, to give light upon the earth. In fufilling the end of their creation, they subserve at once our convenience and happiness; for truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is to behold the sun. How dark, how cheerless, how unfit for the habitation of man would this world be without them. But agreeable and necessary as they are to us, the New Jerusalem needs them not for this purpose; for the glory of God doth lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof. My friends, how infinitely must that light surpass ours, and how little do those who enjoy it need the beams of the natural sun; which when shining in meridian splendor reflects but one faint ray of Jehovah's glory. We may indeed conceive of this luminary as only a vast mirror, placed opposite to one of the open gates of heaven, receiving and reflecting to creatures, some rays of that stream of light which issues from it far and wide. But while even this luminary is, as it were, only a moon, which shines with borrowed light, the Lord God is indeed a Sun; a Sun indebted to none for his beams; for, says the apostle, God is light; nay, he is the Father of lights, giving light to all, but receiving it from none. He dwelleth continually in his own light; in light unapproachable by mortals, and covers himself with light and majesty as with a garment. Such, such is the being who enlightens the New Jerusalem. And the Lamb is the light thereof. The unfathomable flood of light and glory, which unceasingly flows from the Father, is collected and concentrated in the person of his Son; for He is the brightness of the Father's glory and the express image of his person. Heaven is therefore illuminated not only with God's glory, but with the brightness of his glory, with the brightest and most dazzling effulgence of divine, uncreated light, a light which enlightens and cheers the soul, as well as the body. Of the nature and degree of this light, who but the happy beings that enjoy it can form any conception. There are indeed several passages in Scripture, which seem intended to give us some idea of it, but they serve little more than to convince us that it is altogether inconceivable. For instance, St. John informs us, that he saw in vision a mighty angel come down from heaven, and that the earth was THE NEW JERUSALEM. 577 lightened with his glory. But if the glory of a single angel was sufficient to lighten the earth, what must be the glory of the Lord of angels; and how overpowering the light of heaven, where millions of angels continually reside, and God and the Lamb display their brightest glories! Again: When Christ appeared to the same apostle, his eyes were as a flame of fire, and his feet as brass glowing in a furnace, and his countenance as the sun shining in his strength; so that, unable to support the sight, St. John fell at his feet as dead. But if his glories were thus overpowering when, in condescension to the weakness of his servant, he drew a veil over them, what must they be in the regions above, where they are seen in all their brightness, without any interposing veil? Once more: When Moses came down fiom the mount, after a short interview with God, his face shone with a lustre so dazzling, that even his brother and the elders of Israel were unable to gaze upon it. But if a transient view of the glory of God, seen as it were through a glass darkly, could impart such a lustre to a piece of animated clay, what insufferable splendor must the constant presence of Jehovah give to the diamond walls, the pearly gates, and the golden streets of the New Jerusalem? How must they glow and shine, as in a furnace, when the Sun of Righteousness pours upon them his effulgent beams, in a full tide of glory! and how must the spiritual bodies of their inhabitants, which resemble the glorified body of their Redeemer, eclipse all that is called brilliant and dazzling on earth? We are indeed assured that all the righteous shall shine forth as the sui in the kingdom of their Father, and as the brightness of the firmament for ever and ever. Say then, my friends, does the New Jerusalem need any created luminaries to shine in it, or do its inhabitants need the light of the sun, when every individual among them is himself a sun? Not only the moon, but the sun itself would be invisible, amid these celestial glories; or if visible, it would appear only as a cloud, or a dark spot on the face of the celestial sky. Then, says the prophet, shall the moon be confounded and the sun ashamed, when the Lord of Hosts shall reign in Mount Zion, and in Jerusalem, and before his ancients gloriously. As the inhabitants of heaven will not need the light of created luminaries; so, we may add, they will no more need the VOL. I. 73 578 THE NEW JERUSALEM. assistance of human teachers, or of the means of grace. These means are often compared to the sun and moon by the inspired writers, because they are instrumental in imparting spiritual light and knowledge to the church, as the sun is in giving light to the world; and because the light which they convey to believers, is no less necessary to their souls, than the light of the sun is to their bodies. But however necessary these means may be to the church on earth, they will be entirely needless to the church in heaven; for when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away; and the word of God, the sacrament of the supper, and the Lord's day; however well calculated they may be to strengthen the faith and' hopes of Christians here, will be of no use when faith is changed to sight, and hope to fruition. Hence the prophet informs God's people, that when that happy time shall arrive, the sun shall no longer be their light by day, neither for brightness shall the moon give them light; but the Lord shall be unto them an everlasting light, and their God their glory; that is, they shall no longer be indebted to human teachers, or created means for light and instruction; but see and be taught by God himself. The spiritual light which they will then enjoy, will as far exceed that with which they are at present favored, as the glory of God and the Iamb exceeds the glory of the natural sun; and their advances in divine knowledge will be proportionally rapid and extensive. The prophet Isaiah, when speaking of the increased privileges and means of grace which Christians will enjoy even in this world, in the latter ages of the church, informs us that the light of the moon shall then be as the light of the sun, and the light of the sun seven fold, as the light of seven days. But if the church is hereafter to be favored with such increased degrees of spiritual light and divine knowledge, even on earth, who can conceive of the light which the church in heaven enjoys, where they see God as he is, and know him even as they are known. Well may it be said of those who enjoy this, that they have no need of the spiritual sun or moon, or of those burning and shining lights which God has placed in his golden candlestick to enlighten the church on earth. Little do they need human teachers, who know incomparably more of divine things than all the prophets and apostles united Knew, while here below. Little do they need the Bible, who THE NEW JERUSALEM. 579 have forever escaped all its threatenings, who are enjoying all its promises, who intuitively understand all its doctrines, and who have arrived at that heaven to which it points out the way. Little do they need the Sabbath or the symbols of Christ's crucified body, who enjoy an everlasting Sabbath, and behold face to face the glorified body of their Redeemer. Do we need a candle when the sun shines? As little do they need any of these privileges and'means which we now highly and deservedly prize. II. Another purpose for which God formed the sun was, we are told, to divide the day from the night. To creatures constituted as we are, the vicissitude of day and night, which is thus produced by the sun, is equally necessary and agreeable; and we ought ever to remember and acknowledge the wisdom and goodness to which it is owing. Our bodies and our minds are soon fatigued, and indispensably require the refreshment of sleep. For taking this refreshment, the silence and darkness of night afford an opportunity peculiarly favorable, an opportunity which we should seek in vain, were the earth enlightened with continual day. "As the mother," says a beautiful writer, "as the mother moveth about her house, with her finger on her lips, and stilleth every noise, that her infant may not be disturbed, as she draweth the curtains around its bed, and shutteth out the light from its tender eyes; so God draweth the curtains of darkness around us; so he maketh all things to be hushed and still, that his great famlily may sleep in peace." But though while we thus need the refreshment of sleep, the goodness of God appears in providing a proper season for its enjoyment, yet we may easily perceive that it would be a great privilege to be freed from the necessity of sleeping, and especially from that subjection to weariness and fatigue which occasion the necessity. At present, almost one-third of our time is lost in slumber; and our most important business, our most interesting pursuits, our greatest pleasures, are continually interrupted by its necessary recurrence. But with the inhabitants of heaven this is not the case. They neither need nor know the vicissitude of day and night. The spirits of the just made perfect are already like the angels; and their bodies, though sown in weakness, will be raised in power, incapable alike, of weariness, sickness or pain. Do the rays of light grow weary in their 580 THE NEW JERUSALEM. flight from the sun? or does the thunder-bolt need to pause and seek refreshment, in the midst of its career? As little do the inhabitants of heaven become weary in praising and enjoying God. As little do they need refreshment or repose; for their spiritual bodies will be far more active, and refined than the purest light; and their labor itself will be the sweetest rest. Hence heaven is styled the rest which remains for God's people, and they are represented as serving him unceasingly in his temple above. They will not therefore, lose a third part of eternity in sleep. No night will be necessary to refresh them; the pulse of immortality will beat strong in every vein; the golden harp will never drop from their hands; their tongues will never grow weary of extolling their God and Redeemer, but will through eternity pour forth songs of praise as unceasing as the displays of those glories which excite them. And as they will need no nights, so they will have none. St. John, once and again assures us, that there shall be no night there; and the prophet Isaiah, in allusion to the same thing, says to the church, Thy sun shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon withdraw itself; but the Lord shall be to thee an everlasting light. Where God is the sun, there can indeed be no night; for his glory cannot be eclipsed or diminished. He must shine in all the ineffable brightness of the Godhead, without diminution, without interruption and without end; and will thus shine in those regions of eternal day, when all the lamps of heaven are extinguished.in everlasting night. How little then do the mansions which are illuminated by his glory need the revolving sun, or the changeable moon, to enlighten them. III. Another purpose for which the heavenly bodies were created, was to serve for signs, and for the regulation of the seasons. In this, as in other respects, they are eminently useful to a world like ours. The heat of the sun is no less necessary, than its light; but the convenience and happiness of man require that this heat should be communicated to us in different degrees, at different periods. An uninterrupted spring, summer, or autumn, and still more a perpetual winter, would prove injurious and destructive in the highest degree. Yet all these seasons are useful in their turn; even winter, the least pleasing of the four, is no less necessary to the earth, exhausted by the fertility THE NEW JERUSALEM. 581 of autumn, than sleep is to man, wearied by the labors of the day. That this agreeable and necessary vicissitude of the seasons, is occasioned by the different positions of our world with respect to the sun, you need not be told; and the wisdom and goodness, which have thus provided a season for every purpose, are equally obvious. The heavenly bodies, we are informed, are also appointed for signs. By their apparent changes of place, and by the different appearances which they produce in the atmosphere, they point out the proper time for various operations; guide the mariner in his pathless way through the deep, and assist him, as well as the husbandman, to foresee in some measure those changes in the weather, which may prove either beneficial or injurious. Hence our Saviour observes to the pharisees, that they could discover the face of the sky, and even the irrational animals are guided and directed with respect to their motions; for says the prophet, The stork in the heavens knoweth her appointed time; the turtle, the crane and the swallow observe the time of their coming. But however necessary the celestial luminaries may be for signs and seasons on earth, they are needed for neither of these purposes by the inhabitants of heaven. They need no pole star to guide their rapid flight through the immeasurable ocean of etherial space; for God, their sun, is every where, and where he is, there is heaven; there they are at home. They need no signs to warn thern of approaching storms, or impending dangers; for they enjoy uninterrupted sunshine and perpetual peace. No storms, no dangers invade their mansions of eternal rest. The sun, says St. John, shall not light on them nor any heat. Nor will they need the vicissitude of seasons. The heavenly world requires not the rest which winter gives to render it fruitful. The tree of life, which produces twelve manner of fruits, yields its fruits every month; such fruit as angels eat, and at its root the river of life continually flows. They shall therefore hunger no more, neither thirst any more, for the Lamb shall feed them, and lead them to fountains of living waters; and he that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them, and wipe away all tears from their eyes. No passing cloud will ever veil even for a moment his soul-enrapturing, lifegiving beams, which banish winter as well as night from heaven. No chilling blasts shall cool their fervor; no sudden show 582 THE NEW JERUSALEM. ers extinguish the flame of love which glows in celestial bosoms, but the rainbow shall ever encircle the throne, and spring, summler, and autumn, all united into one, eternally prevail. Surely then, the New Jerusalem needs not the sun for seasons or signs. IV. Lastly: Another purpose for which the heavenly bodies were created, was to show the flight, and mark the divisions of time. For this, as well as for other purposes, they are highly necessary to man. Were there no such divisions of time, as days and years, we should probably think even less of its flight, than we do at present; we could only form uncertain conjectures respecting either the portion of our lives, that had elapsed, or that which probably might remain; and should find it far more difficult, than we now do, so to number our days as to apply our hearts to wisdom. Were it not for the changes which increasing age produces in our bodies, we should scarcely realize that we were growing older; and our sands would probably be run out, ere we suspected that one half of them were spent. Christians could not then be comforted, nor sinners alarmed, by the reflection, that they were one day or one year nearer to death; conscience would lose half its power, and the ambassadors of Christ be deprived of one of their most effectual weapons. In addition, the past historyof the church and the world would be involved in inextricable perplexity, uncertainty and confision; no past or future period of time could be marked with precision, and the portion which has elapsed since the creation of the world, or the birth of our Saviour, -tould not be ascertained the word of God would lose mu.h of its value; and the approach of events foretold in prophecy could not be known till they actually arrived. But though such livisions of time, as days and years, are thus necessary on earth, they will be perfectly needless to the inhabitants of heaven. With them, time has ended and eternity begun; and eternity neither needs, nor is capable of division. They know with the utmost certainty, that their happiness will never, never end. Why then should they wish to know, what possible advantage could it be to them to know, at any given period, how many days or years had passed away since they arrived in heaven Even were such divisions of time known there, they could find no leisure to count them; or should they attempt it, they would soon find it impossible. Successive millions of ages will there fly so rapidly THE NEW JERUSALEM. 583 away, that even the continually expanding minds of the blessed, would soon become unable to enumerate or even to conceive of their number; and they would be lost and overwhelmed in attempting to measure the duration of their own existence. You have doubtless, my friends, often observed that, when your minds have been intently or pleasingly occupied, you have become almost unconscious of the flight of time; minutes and hours have flown away with apparently unusual swiftness, and the setting or rising, sun has surprised you long before you expected its approach. But in heaven, the saints shall be entirely lost and swallowed up in God; and their minds will be so completely absorbed in the contemplation of his ineffable, infinite, uncreated glories, that they will be totally unconscious how time, or rather how eternity passes; and not only years, but millions of ages, such as we call ages, will be flown ere they are aware. Thus a thousand years will seem to them but as one day; and yet so great, so ecstatic will be their felicity, that one day will be as a thousand years. And as there will be nothing to interrupt them, no bodily wants to call off their attention, no weariness to compel them to rest, no vicissitude of seasons or of day and night, to disturb their contemplations, it is more than possible that innumerable ages may pass away, before they think of asking how long they have been in heaven, or even before they are conscious that a single hour has elapsed. But we must pause It doth not yet fully appear what we shall be; and we hardly dare describe, or even think of so much as appears. But do those who enjoy such things, need the sun to mark the flight or division of time? No: ten thousand thousand suns, lighted up, one after the other, in long succession, would be insufficient for this, and would all fade away and become extinct, while the happiness of celestial beings was as it were but just commencing. He only, who is the Sun of the New Jerusalem, is able to measure the duration of the existence of its inhabitants, nor can even HIe measure its extent with any measure shorter than His own. And now, my Christian friends, you who are Israelites indeed, ye who are pilgrims on earth, seeking another and better country; ye who look and long for Christ's second appearing, whose treasure, and whose hearts, and whose conversation are in heaven! since you are soon to bid adieu to the sun and moon 584 THE NEW JERUSALEM. forever, and go to those happy mansions where you will need them no more,-forget them and all sublniary objects for a moment, and carried by faith to the summit of that great and high mountain on which St. John stood in vision, contemplate with him the New Jerusalem, your future habitation. Behold a city, built with the most perfect regularity, extending in every direction farther than the eye can reach, surrounded by a wall of jasper, of immeasurable height, and entirely composed of gold, pearls, diamonds and precious stones. See its golden streets thronged with inhabitants, whose bodies composed of light seven times refined, are far more dazzlingly bright and glorious than all the sparkling gems which surround them. See among them the patriarchs, the prophets, the apostles and martyrs, distinguished from their fellow saints by their superior brightness. See the gates guarded: and the streets filled by thousands of thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand of angels and arch-angels, thrones and domlinions, principalities and powers, each one of whom seems sufficiently glorious to be himself a god. See the golden streets, the diamond walls and pearly gates of this celestial city, reflecting from every part streams of light and glory, which flow in a full tide from all directions, not from the sun, but from a throne, more dazzlingly bright than ten thousand suns, raised high in the midst. See the innumerable stirring throngs of saints and angels, enveloped in the boundless flood of light and glory, all falling prostrate before the throne, and with one voice praising Him who liveth forever and ever. Hear their united voices, as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings, exclaiming, Alleluia! for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth. Blessing and glory, and honor, and power, be unto Him that sitteth on the throne and to the Lamb forever and ever. Then raise your eyes to contemplate the object of this worship, Him who fills this throne. See the Ancient of days, the great I Am, the Being of beings, the Being who is, the Being who was, the Being who shall be forever. See at his right hand a man, the friend, the brother, the Redeemer of man, clothed with the brightness of his Father's glory, the express image of his person. See him with a countenance of mingled majesty, meekness, condescension and love, surveying the countless myriads of his people around him, and his eye successivelymeeting their eyes in turn, and pouring THE NEW JERUSALEMI. 585 into their souls such ineffable happiness, as is almost too much even for immortals to bear. But why do I attempt to describe what is indescribable, to utter what is unutterable, to lead you to conceive of what is inconceivable? In vain do I call upon you to see these things; for eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived, the things w.hich God hath prepared for them that love him. And we may add, happy is it for us that we cannot see them. The sight would be too dazzling for mortal eyes, too much for mortal frames to bear. Suffice it to say, it is a far more exceeding and eternal weiglht of glory. It is glory; it is a weight of glory; it is a far more exceeding weight of glory. It is a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. This, this renders it perfect and complete. Were it not eternal, it were nothing. But it is so. Yes, let immortals hear and rejoice, that the New Jerusalem is eternal as the Being that formed it. My Christian friends, is such our eternal habitation? Do we look for such things? What manner of persons then ought we to be? How ought we to conduct? How ought we to feel? I cannot tell you. May the Spirit of God tell you, for he alone is able to do it. Unwillingly, my friends, do I leave the contemplation of these enrapturing scenes. Unwillingly do I descend from the mount of God, and leave heaven behind. I am ready to say with the disciples on the mount of transfiguration: It is good to be here. But duty calls us down, and we must descend. We must descend to address sinners, grovelling in the dust, who are so strongly attached to this vain, dark, empty world, that no motives, no persuasion, no entreaties, can induce them to rise and aim at heaven. You have heard, my earthly-minded hearers, a faint, O how faint a' description of that heavenly world which you slight, and which you are bartering for the unsatisfying, perishing vanities of time and sense. But faint as the description is, is it not sufficient to show you the madness, the folly of neglecting heaven for the sake of any thing which this world contains? Can you be contented lose this heaven forever? Yet lose it you must, unless you speedily transfer your affections from earth to heaven, and become followers of them, who through faith and patience, are now inheriting the promises. VOL. I. 74 586 T-HE NEW JERUSALEM. If you are not washed in the blood, and sanctified by the Spirit of Christ, heaven will never open to you its gates; the angelic guard will never admit you; for hear the words of eternal truth: There shall in.no case enter it any thing that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie, but they which are written in the Lamb's book of life. Therefore if any are found, at death, defiled with sin unrepented of, that abominable thing which God hates, they shall in no wise be admitted into the kingdom of heaven; but must be cast into outer darkness, where shall be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. T'here they will painfully need the light of the sun, but wi)l not enjoy it; for to them is reserved the blackness of darkness forever. To add to their wretchedness, they will, like the rich man in the parable, behold heaven afar off, and see others admitted into it, while they are thrust out. 0 then, my frienas, be persuaded before you lose forever the light of the sun, and the more precious light of the gospel, to obtain the qualifications necessary, for admission into that city, which has no need of the sun, or moon to shine in it, because the glory of God doth lighten it; and the Lamb is the light thereof. GOD IN THE MIDST OF HIS CHURCH. IN that day it shall be said to Jerusalem, Fear thou not; and to Zion, Let not thy hands be slack. The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love; he will joy over thee with singing.-ZEPHANIAH IIl. 16, 17. THOSE of you who are conversant with the writings of the prophets, have doubtless observed, that almost all their messages to the ancient church, begin with the most awful threatenings and end with the most animating promises. They, however, always intimate, that the threatenings were denounced against the church then existing, and that they would be immediately executed on account of its apostacy; but that the promises referred to a time then future, and would not be fulfilled till after many years. Indeed it is more than intimated in many passages that these promises referred to the Christian church, and would not be fulfilled till after the coming of Christ. An instance of this we have in the chapter before us. It begins with a woe denounced against the ancient church, and announces God's determination to destroy it; but to preserve a remnant which' should renounce its sins, to which as a church, great additions should be made from among the Gentiles. To this purified and increased church, which, in allusion to ancient names, is still called Jerusalem and Zion, our text refers; and by the day mentioned in it, is meant the times of the Gospel dispensation. In that day it shall be said to Jerusalem, Fear thou not, and to Zion, Let not thy hands be slack; for the Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty. He will save, he will rejoice over thee 588 GOD IN THE MIDST with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing. My brethren, the age in which we live is part of the day here referred to; and the language of this passage is God's language to his church, not indeed to all who have a place in his visible church, but, as it is expressed in the context, to all whose tongue is not deceitful, who do not practise iniquity or speak lies, but trust in the name of the Lord; that is, to the whole body of real Christians. This body is here addressed in the language. of encouragement and of exhortation. Let us attend, in the first place, to what is said to it by way of encouragement. 1. The Church is here encouraged by the assurance, that Jehovah is her God. He himself directs those who address his church to call him so. It shall be said to Zion, Jehovah thy God; thy God in a peculiar sense; thy covenant God, who has chosen thee to be his people, and has drawn thee to enter into a covenant with him as thy God. This relation he sustained with respect to his ancient people, before they burst asunder the bonds of his covenant by their apostacy. Hence in their best days we find them saying, this God is our God forever and ever; and God, even our God, shall help us. This language the New Testament Church may still employ, for Jehovah is her God, her own covenant God; and he becomes in this sense the God of all who choose him to be their God and enroll themselves among his people. 2. The Church is further encouraged by assurances of God's everlasting, unchanging love, and of his gracious designs respecting her. She is assured that he has formed an unalterable determination to save her. He will save; that is, he has determined to do it. This determination was formed in the counsels of eternity. Hence God says to his church, in another passage, I have loved thee with an everlasting love; therefore with loving kindness have' I drawn thee. To the same truth St. Paul alludes, when writing to Christians he says, Blessed be the God and Father of'our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in heavenly things in Christ; according as he hath chosen us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before him in love. This everlasting love the church is assured will not change or fail. Thy God will rest in his love; that is, he will continue to OF HIS CHURCH. 589 love thee. He will remain in the exercise of love as in a place of rest; as in something with which he is satisfied. Of course, the determination to save her, which this love at first prompted him to form, will not be altered or laid aside. It was a view of this truth which led the apostle to exclaim with reference to himself and all other believers, I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ'Jesus our Lord. 3. Still further to encourage the church she is assured, that God rejoices in his love, and in all its sanctifying saving effects upon his people. The expressions in which this assurance is given are exceedingly strong: He will rejoice over thee with joy, he will joy over thee with singing. Similar expressions are used in other places: As the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so shall thy God rejoice over thee; for I will be glad in Jerusalem and joy in my people; and thou shalt be a crown of glory in the hand of the Lord, and a royal diadem in the hand of thy God. In language less glowing indeed, but of the same import, our Saviour informs us, that there is joy in Heaven over one sinner that repenteth. To those who feel competent to decide what it is proper for Jehovah to do, and what-it is improbable that he will do, these expressions will appear too strong, and the truth which they assert will seem almost incredible. Hence they will ask, is it possible to believe that the infinite, eternal Jehovah, should rejoice in this manner over a company of sinful, insignificant mortals 1 I answer, it is possible, because he is infinite. An infinite being, must be infinite in all his perfections. If he is infinite in greatness, he is also infinite in condescension. And all that we can say of God's condescension in rejoicing over his church, is, that it is infinite. It is so indeed, and therefore it is credible; it is like him; it is just such condescension as we might expect from an infinite being. This joy however is not indicative of condescension only. It is the natural result and expression of God's infinite benevolence, or rather of his peculiar love for his people; a love whose height and depth and length and breadth, pass, as the apostle intimates, our knowledge. All the feelings of an infinite being must be infinitely strong. His loie then is so. But love rejoices in promoting and in witness 590 GOD IN THE MIDST ing the happiness of the beloved object. The joy thus excited is equal to the love which is felt. It follows that, since God loves his people with an infinite love, he rejoices in promoting and witnessing their happiness, with an infinite joy. He rejoices in the purpose which he has formed to save them. He rejoices in the execution of this purpose. He rejoices in the effects produced by its execution. And in them he will rejoice through eternity. The beams of condescension, love and joy which shine forth in these truths, are almost too dazzling for mortal eyes to contemplate. It requires strong faith to believe these truths. It requires a strong eye to gaze upon them. It is blinding, it is confounding to a humble soul, to look up and see the glorious Sun of the universe thus shining upon it; to see the eternal, infinite Jehovah looking down upon it with ineffable, immeasurable love and delight. But what he reveals, we must believe, and endeavor to contemplate. Know then, O Christian, that, however much you may love God, he loves you with an affection infinitely more strong; that, however greatly you may rejoice in God, he rejoices in you with a joy infinitely greater. He has said, It is more blessed to give than to receive, and enjoys infinitely more happiness in bestowing salvation, than you now feel, or than you ever will feel in receiving it. 4. The church is assured that her God is no less able than he is willing to effect her salvation. Jehovah, thy God, is mighty. As it is elsewhere expressed, he is one that speaks in righteousness, mighty to save. He is not only mighty, but Almighty, omnipotent, possessing all power in heaven, on earth and in hell. He who saves the church from her enemies, must be so, for such is their number and strength, that nothing less than omnipotence can subdue them, or take the prisoners out of their hands. Among these enemies, are sin and death and the powers of darkness; and he who conquers them must be almighty. He must be able to save even to the uttermost. On this ground we are exhorted to trust in him: Trust ye in the Lord forever; for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength. The church is assured that her God is not only mighty to save, but present to save, a God at hand and not afar off: The Lord thy God is in the midst of thee. He is in the midst of his church, not merely as he is in all places, but in a peculiar manner. This, he says, is my rest forever; here will I dwell, for I OF HIS CHURCH. 591 have desired it. Hence her name is called Jehovah-Shammah, which signifies, the Lord is there. Hence too, believers are said in the New Testament to be the temple of God; and to be builded together for an habitation of God through the Spirit. Christ the Lord who walks in the midst of his churches and who is in the midst of his people, when they assemble in his name, is one in whom dwells all the fulness of the Godhead bodily, and the church is said to be the fulness of him, that is, to be filled by him who filleth all in all. Such are the gracious assurances which God has given his church, such the privileges she enjoys. Let us now attend, secondly, to the exhortations which accompany them. Of these exhortations, the first is, Fear thou not. I need not inform you, that there are various kinds of fear mentioned in the Scriptures. Some of these kinds of fear it is the indispensable duty of the church to exercise. There is a holy, filial fear of God, a fear of offending him, which results from love. This fear is the beginning of wisdom, and is meant by the inspired writers when they command us to be in the fear of the Lord all the day long. There is a reverential fear of God, arising from a view of his holy majesty, greatness and glory. This kind of fear is intended by the apostle when he says, Let us have grace to serve God acceptably, with reverence and godly fear. There is also a humble fear, or holy jealousy of ourselves, occasioned by a sense of our own weakness and the desperate wickedness and deceitfulness of our hearts; a fear which excites to constant watchfulness, and whose language is, Lord, hold thou me up and I shall be safe. This fear is intended by the royal preacher when he says, happy is the man that feareth always. None of these kinds of fear therefore are intended in our text. Indeed, a belief of the assurances it contains, is calculated to produce them all; for what can more powerfully tend to excite a filial fear of offending God, or a reverential fear while worshipping him, or a holy jealousy of ourselves, than a belief that Jehovah, the mighty God, the High and Holy One, is in the midst of us'? But there are other kinds of fear mentioned by the inspired writers, which are highly sinful and injurious, but which God's people are prone to indulge. These are unbelieving fears, or fears which come from a disbelief of divine promises, and which are attended or followed by a slavish fear of God and a despond. 592 GOD IN THE MIDST ing fear of our enemies. Against these kinds of fear the exhortation in our text is directed. It forbids the church, first, to indulge unbelieving fears. Christians are guilty of this, when they doubt whether Christ is willing to receive and forgive them; whether he will carry on his own work in their hearts, and in the world; whether he will make their strength equal to their day, when trials, afflictions, and death shall come. They are guilty of it when they say, the Lord hath forsaken me, and my God hath forgotten me; and when they ask, Hath the Lord cast off forever? will he be favorable no more? They are guilty of it, when they are careful and troubled respecting the morrow, and anxiously ask, What shall we eat? what shall we drink? and wherewithal shall we be clothed? It is their privilege and their duty to be careful for nothing, but to rejoice in the Lord always, and in every thing, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, to make known their requests to God; and vhen they fail of this, he may well say to them, Why are ye fearful? 0 ye of little faith! Is not Jehovah your God? Has he not determined' and declared that he will save thee, that he will supply all thy need, and make all things work together for thy good? Has he not assured thee, that this determination is unalterable, and the love which prompted it unchangeable, and that he rejoices in fulfilling it, rejoices in thy happiness and salvation? Banish then these unbelieving fears. Offend not him, distress not thyself, by entertaining doubts of his faithfulness, his ability, or his love; but rely with unshaken confidence and composure of mind upon his perfections and promises. In the second place, our text forbids to fear God with a slavish fear. This is the fear which the devils feel who believe and tremble. It is the fear mentioned by the apostle, which, he says, hath torment, and which perfect love casteth out. It produces what St. Paul calls a spirit of bondage, and is occasioned anld maintained by looking at the law and forgetting the gospel, by dwelling upon the threatenings and overlooking the promises. We are under the influence of this fear, when we serve God as a slave serves a master, before whom he trembles, and not as a child serves a father whom he loves, and in whom he confides. How well calculated are the assurances, to which we have been attending, to banish this fear, it is needless to remark. OF HIS CHURCH. f593 In the third place, the passage forbids a desponding, pusillanimous fear of our enemies, a fear which deters us from performing our duty, or tempts us to err, or prevents us from making suitable exertions to work out our salvation. The fear of man bringeth a snare. It was this which led Peter to deny his Master. It has in times of persecution destroyed thousands; and it still not unfrequently induces the professed friends of Christ to act as if they were ashamed of him. It is this which often prevents us from warning and admonishing our brethren, as we have engaged to do. In this particular, many are much influenced by the fear of men, who perhaps flatter themselves that they have escaped from its power. They do not indeed fear the world. They are not ashamed to be known as the servants of Christ. But though they do not fear the world, they are afraid to perform their duty by admonishing them, lest they should give offence. My brethren, let no one suppose that he has risen above the fear of man, until he finds that he is not deterred from performing his duty to his brethren by a fear of offending them. To deliver us from this kind of fear in all its various forms, the assurances given in our text are most admirably adapted. Its language in effect is, Timid, trembling disciple, why dost thou fear" Is not thy God mighty to save thee? Is he not ever near and ready to save thee? Will not his love prompt him to shield thee from all thine enemies? When he calls upon thee to perform any duty which may offend thy brethren, or any of thy fellow creatures, mayest thou not expect, that his power will be exerted either to make thy endeavors successful, or to prevent those who may be offended from injuring thee? Why then art thou afraid of man that shall die, and of the son of man who shall be cut down as grass? and forgettest the Lord thy Maker: who stretched out the heavens and laid the foundations of the earth? The second exhortation here addressed to the church is, Let not thy hands be slack. Slackness is opposed to zeal and diligence. lHe becometh poor, says the royal preacher, who dealeth with a slack hand; but the hand of the diligent maketh rich. The remark is no less applicable to our spiritual, than to our temporal concerns. He whose hands are slack in the sense of nur text will never be rich in good works, will never be an emil'ent or a useful Christian. We may add, that,sackness or VOL. I. 75 594 GOD IN THE MIDST indolence is the principal cause why so few Christians are. eminently pious or useful. He who can overcome indolence, will overcome all his other spiritual enemies; but he who does not overcome indolence, will overcome none of them. Indolence will prevent us from working out our own salvation with success, and it will still more effectually prevent us from effecting the salvation of others. The exhortation in our text is directed against indolence in performing both these duties, and the gracious assurances connected with it are calculated to animate and encourage their performance. What, for instance, can be more perfectly adapted to animlate us to zeal and diligence in subduing our sins and making advances in religion, than the assurance that we have a gracious, affectionate and Almighty helper, always present and ready to assist us? St. Paul makes use of this fact to animate those to whom he wrote: Work out your salvation, says he, for God worketh in you to will and to do. This assurance is, one would think, sufficient to make the most fearful bold, and the most indolent active. And what can tend more powerfully to-encourage the church in laboring to effect the extension of her limits and the salvation of sinners, than the assurance that Jehovah, the mighty God, who delighteth to save, is in the midst of her to crown her exertions with success? Let me then say to the church and to every Christian it contains, fear thou not and let not thy hands be slack, for the Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty. He will save, he will rest in his love, he will rejoice over thee with joy, he will joy over thee with singing. A few inferences will conclude the discourse: 1. We may remark, in view of this subject, that all the,doctrines and promises of God's word, and all the gracious assurances of his love, have a practical tendency, and are designed to produce holy zeal and activity. For instance, in the passage before us, God's everlasting love to his people, his consequent unalterable determination to save them, his power to execute this determination, are clearly brought into view. But with what design' That his people might be careless and indolent, and say, Since God is determined to save us, we may indulge in sin? No, but that they be excited to zeal and diligence in doing good, and working out their salvation. St. Paul makes a similar use of the divine promises: Having therefore OF HIS CHURCK. 595 these promises, dearly beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God. If God has chosen us in Christ, it is that we may be holy, and without blame before him in love. The grace of God which bringeth salvation teaches us, that denying ungodliness, and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world. Hence, 2. We may learn whe-ther our belief of the divine promises, and the hopes and consolations which we derive from them, are real and scriptural. If they banish sinful fear, despondency and indolence, and render us zealous and active in the service of God, they are certainly genuine, and we may safely receive and enjoy all the joys and consolations which have this effect. But if any doctrine or promise of Scripture, any confidence in God's mercy, or any hopes or consolations which we experience, tender us careless and indolent in working out our salvation, or encourage us to indulge in sin, we certainly abuse them. Our Faith is vain, our confidence is delusive, our hope is false, and our joys are deceitful; for such conduct makes Christ the minister of sin, and turns the grace of God into licentiousness. Finally: Is God, my Christian friends, in the midst of us, resting in his love to us, and rejoicing over us with joy? Oh then, with what emotions does it become us to receive and embrace him! With what profound awe and reverence should we contemplate his greatness! How should we admire and praise him for his condescension! With what firm confidence should we rest in his love; with what warm affection should we return it, and how should we joy in him as our God, and rejoice in the God of our salvation! If he can love us, surely we ought much more to love him; if he can rejoice over us, much more may we rejoice in him. 0 how solemn, how delightful, how transforming is the communion between God and his people, when he descends in all the plenitude of his love, mercy and grace to pour himself upon them; to shine into their hearts with celestial radiance, and fill them with his own fulness; while they, in return, ashamed and humbled by this amazing condescension, and filled with mingled emotions of reverence, shame, gratitude, wonder and love, pour out their souls to him in confessions and supplications, and then rise, with renewed strength, to praise and exult and rejoice in his goodness! May 596 GOD IN THE M IDST OF HIS CHURCH. God thus meet you; may you thus meet him on the present occasion. Then vill your fellowship indeed be with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ; and the sacramental supper will be a pledge and a foretaste of the marriage supper of the Lamb in heaven. ADDRESS TO SEAMEN. To every one, who possesses a particle of the spirit of our Saviour, it cannot but be highly gratifying to contemplate the gradual expansion of Christian benevolence; the wide, and still wider circle of objects, which it has progressively extended its arms to embrace, during the last half century. At the commencement of this period, scarcely a solitary individual was heard to raise his voice in favor of the much injured and enslaved Africans. Now their cause is pleaded with success before Parliaments and Senates; and powerful States make it an object of attention in their negotiations with foreign powers. Then, excepting in this country, the numerous children of the poor were left, without education or moral instruction, a prey to ignorance and to every species of vice. Now, in many parts of Europe, national societies are formed, and schools established on an extensive scale, to improve at once their morals and their minds. Then, the circulation of the Scriptures was confined within comparatively narrow limits; and of those by whom they were possessed, very few even thought of sending them to the destitute. Now, thousands of hands are open to distribute, and tens of thousands extended to receive the inestimable gift. Then, the religious interests of the heathen were neglected. Now, the heralds of the cross preach to them, in many different languages, and in widely distant parts of the world, " the unsearchable riches of Christ." Then, no provision was made for the spiritual wants of our own destitute countrymen. Now, means are in operation to furnish them with able and faithful religious instructors, 598 A TDRESS TO S E A M EN. Then, the descendants of Abraham were forgotten, or remembered only to be despised. Now, vigorous and widely-extended efforts are made, to effect their conversion to Christianity. Then too, mariners, composing a numerous and highly useful zlass of citizens in every commercial country, and forming a kind of connecting link between the different nations and parts of the world, were left to suffer, in their full force, all those moral and religious privations to which their occupation subjects them; so that they might, with very few exceptions, have exclaimed:-We are men, "'whom no one seeketh' after, no man careth for our souls." Not only Christian nations, but Christian individuals, while enjoying the foreign productions procured for them by the toils and perils of their seafaring brethren, seemed to forget that they were feasting on " the price of blood;" the blood of neglected and perishing immortals.. But to this long neglected class of society also, Christian benevolence now extends her hand. Now, the spire of " the Mariner's Church rises in the midst of commercial cities, pointing the tempest-tossed sons of ocean to a haven of rest above. Now, " the Bethel Flag," under which seamen and landsmen unite to worship Him who governs earth and sea, waves in many of their harbors. Now, Marine Bible Societies are formed; and the chest of every sailor may contain, if he will accept of it, that inestimable treasure, the Book which makes men "wise unto salvation." We rejoice to see, in the "Portland Marine Bible Society;" a proof that this recently awakened spirit of concern for the religions interests of seamen lives and breathes among ourselves. We rejoice, my seafaring friends, to see so many of you assembled here, on this occasion. Most cordially do we bid you welcome, a thousand times welcome to the temple of Him, who is no less your God than ours. Welcome, welcome, weary, weather-beaten sailor, to the place where rest is offered to the weary in the name of Jesus Christ. For you this place is now opened. For you this Bible Society was formed. For you this meeting was appointed. For you our united prayers have now ascended before the mercy seat of Heaven. You it is, whom, as friends and brothers, the speaker now purposes to address. Anld why does he address you? Why have we invited and wrelcomed you here this evening? Because you. are our fello;w AD DRESS TO SEA EN. 599 (.reatures; our iellow-immortals. Because you are our shipmates in the great ship of this world; and are sailing with us to the shores of eternity. Because you have something within you which thinks and feels; and that something is an immortal soul; a soul worth infinitely more than all the merchandise which you ever assisted in conveying across the seas; a soul worth more than all the stars which twinkle above you, while keeping your evening watch on deck; a soul which will continue to live, and to be happy or miserable, when all those stars are quenched in everlasting night. Yes, mark me, ship-mates, you have, each, such a soul within you; a soul dear to Him who made it; a soul, for whose salvation Jesus Christ shed his blood; and for the loss of which, the whole world, could you gain it, would be no compensation. This precious freight, these immortal souls, are embarked in frail vessels, on the dangerous voyage of life; a voyage which you are even now pursuing, and which will terminate, either in the Port of Heaven, or in the Gulf of Perdition. To one or the other of these places you are all bound. In one or the other of them, you will all land at death. In which of thelm you shall land will depend on the course you steer. These are the reasons why we feel concerned for you; why we address you. We wish you to steer a safe course. We know there is but one such course. We wish you to make sure of a good harbor, in which you may rest quietly after the toilsome voyage of life is ended. We know there is but one such harbor. We know that this harbor is not easy to find. We know that the sea over which you sail is full of sunken rocks and quicksands, on which many a brother sailor has made shipwreck of his soul. Your voyage is, therefore, exceedingly dangerous. We meet you pursuing this voyage and wish to speak you. When you speak a vessel, one of the first questions you ask her is, "Where are you bound?" Allow me to ask the same question. Ho, there, creature of God, immortal spirit, voyager to Eternity! whither art thou bound? Heard I the answer aright? Was it, "I don't know!" Not know where you are bound! Heard you ever such an answer to this question before? Should you hear such an answer from a spoken vessel, would you not conclude its crew to be either drunk or mad? and would you not soon expect to hear of its loss? Not know 600 ADD RESS TO SEA TIEN. where you are bound! And have you then, for so many years, been beating about in the fogs of ignorance and uncertainty; with no port in view; the sport of storms and currents; driven hither and thither as the winds change, without any hope of ever making a harbor, and liable, every moment, to strike upon a lee shore? Not know where you are bound! Alas, then, I fear you are bound to the Gulf of Perdition; and that you will be driven on the rocks of Despair, which are now right ahead of you, and which, sooner or later, bring up all, who know not where they are bound, and who care not what course they steer. If I have taken my observation correctly, you are in the Lee Current, which sets directly into a Gulf where you will find no bottom witl a thousand fathoms of line. Not know where you are bound! You must then be in distress. You have either unshipped your rudder, or you have no compass, chart, or quadrant on board; nor any pilot who can carry you into the port of Heaven. And what pilot, you will perhaps ask in reply, can carry us there? Who can tell us, with certainty, that there is any such port? On what chart is it laid down? And how do we know, -how do you know, -how can any man know, that what you have now told us is true? These are fair questions, shipmates, and you shall have an answer; but allow me, first to ask you a few questions. Should you see a fine ship, well built, handsomely rigged, and completely equipped for a voyage, could any man make you believe that she built herself? or that she was built by chance? or that she sprung, like a bubble, out of the sea? Would you not feel as certain, that she was the work of some builder, as if you had stood by, and seen him shape every timber, and drive every bolt? And can you, then, believe, that this great ship, the world, built itself? or that it was built by chance? or that it sprung out of nothing without any cause? Do you not feel as certain, that it was made by some great, and wise, and powerful builder, as if you had stood by and seen him make it q Yes, you will say, every ship is built by some man; but he that built all things must be more than man he must be God. Another question. Should you see a vessel go every year, for many years successively to a distant port, and return at a set time; performing all her voyages with perfect regularity, ADDRESS TO SEAM EN. 601 and never going a cable's length out of her course, nor being a day out of her time, could you be made to believe that she had no commander, pilot, or helmsman on board; that she went and came of her own accord; or that she had nothing to steer her but the wind? Would you have any more doubt that she was under the command of some skilful navigator, than if you were on board, and saw him? Look then, once more, at this great ship, the world. See how regularly she makes her annual voyage round the sun, without ever getting out of her course, or being a day out of her time. Should she gain or lose a single day in making this voyage, what would all your nautical Tables be good for? Now, would she go and come with such perfect regularity and exactness of her own accord? or with no one to regulate her course? Can you any more doubt that she is under the direction of some skilful commander, than if you saw him regulating all her motions? But if the world has a pilot, a commander, who is he? Ay, shipmates, who is he? Is it any of her crew? You know, that if they should all unite their strength, they could neither move her, nor alter her course a hair's breadth. Who then can it be? But why need I ask? Who can regulate all the motions of the world, except He that made the world? And remember, shipmates, if God is here to regulate her course, he must be here to see how the crew behave. Once more. Would a wise owner put a crew on board a vessel, and send her to sea, bound on a long voyage, without a compass, chart, quadrant, or pilot, to be driven just where the winds and waves might carry her, till she foundered, or went to pieces on some rocky shore? No, you reply, no wise owner, no man, that cared any thing either for the ship or the ship's company, would act in this manner. And would the good, the allwise God then, who made the world, and placed us in it, act in such manner? Certainly not. It would be insulting him to think so. You may be certain, therefore, that he has taken care to provide a safe harbor, in which, when the voyage of life is ended, we may ride secure from every danger; that he has furnished us with every thing necessary to assist us in shaping our course for that harbor; and that he has provided a skilful pilot, who will carry us into it, if we put ourselves under his care. And, shipmates, we can tell you, for God has told us, that he VOL. I. 76 602 ADDR ESS TO SEAMIEN. actually has done all this. As a harbor, he has prepared heaven for us; a place so glorious, that the sun is not fit to be a lamp in it. Could you grasp the world like an orange, and squeeze all the happiness it affords into a single cup, it would be nothing to one drop of the waters of life, which flow there like a river. Fora commander and pilot, he has given us his own Son, Jesus Christ, the Captain of salvation; beyond all comparison the most skilful, kind, and careful commander, that ever seaman sailed under. He can carry you, and he alone can carry you safely into the Port of Heaven. No soul ever found its way into that port without him. No soul which put itself under his care, was ever lost. Finally, for a compass, chart, and quadrant, God has given us the Bible; and most completely does it answer the purpose of all three. By this book, as a compass, you may shape your course correctly; for it will always traverse freely, and it has no variation. By this book, as a quadrant, you may at any time, by night pr by day, take an observation, and find out exactly where you are. And in this book, as on a chart, not only the Port of Heaven, but your whole course, with every rock, shoal, and breaker, on which you can possibly strike, is most accurately laid down. If then, you make a proper use of this book, mind your helm, keep a good look out, and carefully observe your pilot's directions, you will without fail make a prosperous voyage, and reach the Port of Heaven in safety. It may not, however, be amiss, to give a few hints respecting the first part of your course. If you examine your chart you will find put down, not far from the latitude in which you now are, a most dangerous rock, called the Rock of Intemperance, or Drunkard's Rock. This rock, on which there is a high beacon, is almost white with the bones of poor sailors who have been cast away upon it. You must be careful to give this rock a good berth, for there is a very strong current setting towards it. If you once get into that current you will find it very difficult getting out again; and will be almost sure to strike and go to pieces. You will often find a parcel of wreckers round this rock, who will try to persuade you that it is not dangerous, and that there is no current. But take care how you believe them. Their only object is plunder. Not far from this terrible rock, you will find marked, a whirlpool, almost equally dangerous, called the whirlpool of Bad A DRESS TO SEAMEN. 603 Company. Indeed this whirlpool often throws vessels upon Drunkard's Rock, as it hurries them round. It lies just outside the Gulf of Perdition; and every thing which it swallows up is thrown into that Gulf. It is surrounded by several little eddies, which often draw mariners into it before they know where they are. Keep a good look out then for these eddies, and steerwide of this whirlpool; for it has swallowed up more sailors than ever the sea did. In fact, it is a complete Hell Gate. Besides this whirlpool and rock, there are several shoals laid down in your chart, which I cannot now stay to describe. Indeed these seas are full of them, which makes sailing here extremely dangerous. If you would be sure to shun them all and to keep clear of the terrible gulf already mentioned, you must immediately go about, make a signal for a pilot, and steer for the Straits of Repentance, which you will see right ahead. These Straits, which are very narrow, form the only passage out of the dangerous seas you have been navigating, into the great Pacific Ocean, sometimes called the Safe Sea, or Sea of Salvation, on the further shore of which lies your port. It is not very pleasant passing these Straits; and therefore many navigators have tried hard to find another passage. Indeed, some who pretend to be pilots, will tell you there is another; but they are wrong; for the great Master Pilot himself has declared that every one who does not pass the Straits of Repentance will certainly be lost. As you pass these Straits, the spacious Bay of Faith will begin to open, on the right hand side of which you will see a high hill, called Mount Calvary. On the top of this hill stands a Light-House, in the form of a cross; which, by night, is completely illumined from top to bottom, and by day, sends up a pillar of smoke, like a white cloud. It stands so high, that, unless you deviate from the course laid down in your chart, you will never lose sight of it in any succeeding part of your voyage. At the foot of this Light-House you will find the Pilot I have so often mentioned, waiting for you. You must by all means receive him on board; for without Him, neither your own exertions, nor all the charts and pilots in the world can preserve you from fatal shipwreck. As you enter the Bay of Faith. you will see, far ahead, like a white cloud in the horizon, theihigh lands of Hope, which lie 604 ADDRESS TO SEAMEN. hard by your port. These lands are so high. that when the air is clear, you will have them constantly in sight during the remainder of your voyage; and while they are in sight, you may be sure of always finding good anchoring ground, and of safely riding out every storm. I might proceed to describe the remainder of your course, but it is needless; for you will find it all in your chart, the Bible. With this chart, the society which invited you here this evening, are ready to furnish every destitute seaman; and they do it on purpose that your voyage may be prosperous, and its termination happy. And now, shipmates, let me ask you one question more. Should a ship's crew, bound on a long and dangerous voyage, refuse to provide themselves with either quadrant, chart, or compass:-or, being furnished by their owner with these articles, should stow them away in the hold, and never use them, never mind their helm, keep no look out, pay no regard to their pilot's directions, but spend their time in drinking and carousing; have you any doubt that they would be lost, before their voyage was half over. And when you heard that they were lost, would you not say,-It is just as I expected; but they have no one to blame except themselves? Just so, my dear shipmates, if you refuse to receive the Bible, the book which your Maker and owner has given, to assist in shaping your course; -or if you lay this book aside in your chests, and never study it;-or if you study it, and do not shape your course by it, nor pay any regard to the directions of Jesus Christ, your commander and pilot; but make your only object to live an easy, careless, merry life; be assured that you will make shipwreck of your souls, and founder in that gulf which has no bottom; and while you feel that you are lost, lost, lost for ever, you will also feel that you have no one to blame for it but yourselves. You cannot blame God, your Creator and Owner; for he has kindly given you his only Son to be your pilot, and his Book to be your chart. You cannot blame your fellow-creatures; for, by the hands of this Society, they now offer you this book, " without money and without price." You cannot blame the speaker; for he has now told you what will be th6 consequence of neglecting this book. 0, then, be persuaded to receive it, to study it, and to shape your course by it. Become yourselves members of this Bible Society, and persuade ADDRESS TO SEAMEN. 605 your comrades to do the same. Wherever you see the Bethel Flag hoisted, rally round it. As often as you have an opportunity, visit the house of God on the Sabbath, to hear what Jesus Christ has done for poor Seamen. If you see a brother sailor becalmed by the way, or steering another course, lend him a hand, and take him with you. Whenever you are keeping your evening.watch on deck, look up, and see the God of whom you have now heard-the God whose name, I fear, some of you " take in vain," throned in awful silence, and darkness, and majesty, on the sky, crowned with a diadem of ten thousand stars, holding the winds and thunderbolts in his hand, and setting one foot on the sea, and the other on the land, while both land and sea obey his word, and tremble at his nod. This, shipmates, is the God under whom we wish you to enlist, and to whom we wish you to pray. This is the God who now offers to be the poor sailor's friend; and who, in all your voyages, can carry you out in safety, and bring you home in peace. This too, is the God whom we shall all one day see coming in the clouds of Heaven with power and great glory; to judge the world. Then, at his command, the earth and the sea shall give up all who had been buried in the former or sunk in the latter, and they shall stand together before God to be rewarded according to their works. 0 then, seamen, landsmen, whoever you are that hear, prepare, prepare for this great day. Yes, prepare, ye accountable creature, prepare to meet your God; for he has said, Behold I come, I come near to judgment! And hath he said it, and shall he not do it Hath He spoken, and. shall he not make it good? Yes, when His appointed hour shall arrive, a mighty angel will lift his hand to Heaven, and swear by Him who liveth for ever and ever, that there shall be time no longer. Then our world, impetuously driven by the last tempest, will strike, and be dashed in pieces on the shores of eternity. Hark! what a crash was there! One groan of unutterable anguish, one loud shriek of consternation and despair is heard, and all is still. Not a fragment of the wreck remains to which the struggling wretches might cling for support; but down, down, down they sink, whelmed deep beneath the billows of almighty wrath. But see! something appears at a distance mounting above the waves, and neaing the shore. It is the Ark of salvation! It is the Life Boat of Heaven! It has weathered the G606 A I1) KRESS TO S E A E N, last storm; it enters the harbor triumphantly; Heaven resounds with the acclamations of its gratefill, happy crew! Amnong them, may you all, shipmates, be found. May the nembers ot this Society, believing and obeying, as well as distributing the Scriptures, save both themselves and the objects of their care. And may every perishing immortal in this assembly, now, while the Ark, is open, while the Life Boat waits, while the rope of mercy is thlrowI within his grasp, seize it, and make eternal life his own!