THE
COMPLETE WORKS
OF
EDWARD PAYSON, D. D.












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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!