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 OF THE 
 

MEMOIR 
 
 REV. EDWARD PAYSON, D D. 
 
 SECOND CHURCH IN PORTL.AND. 
 
 BY ASA CUMMINGS, 
 
 EDITOR OF THE CHRISTIAN MIRROR. 
 
 Bene orasse est bene studuisse Luther. 
 
 SECOXID EDITZOXI'. 
 
 BOSTON : 
 
 PUBLISHED BY CROCKER AND BREWSTER, 
 
 47 Washington Street. 
 NEW YORK :--J. LEAVITT, 
 
 182 Broadway. 
 
 1830. 
 

 DISTRICT OF MAINE, TO WIT: 
 
 District Clerk^s Office. 
 
 Be it remembered, That on the twenty-fifth day of February, A. D. 1830, and 
 in the fifty-fourth year of the Independence of the United States of America, Mrs. 
 Ann L. Payson, of said district, has deposited in this office the title of a book, 
 the right whereof she claims as proprietor, in the words following, to wit: 
 
 " A Memoir of the Rev. Edward Payson, D. D. late Pastor of the Second Church 
 in Portland. Bene orasse est bene studuisse. Luther. Shirley & Hyde, Printers. 
 1830." 
 
 In conformity to the act of the congress of the United States, entitled, *' An Act 
 for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books 
 to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned j" 
 and also to an act, entitled, " An Act supplementary to an act, entitled, ' An Act 
 for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books 
 to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned ; 
 and for extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etch- 
 ing historical and other prints." 
 
 J. MUSSEY, 
 
 Clerk of the District of Maine. 
 
 A true copy as of record, 
 
 Attest, J. MUSSEy,i (7ZfirA; Z>. C.Maine. 
 
 STEREOTYPED AT THE 
 BOSTON TYPE AND STEREOTYPE FOUNDRlt 
 
'(LC-A^ 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 In revising this work for a new edition, the compiler has 
 carefully considered the various suggestions for its improve- 
 ment which have been offered by his friends. Of these, 
 some he has adopted wholly, others in part : from others, 
 agaiuj he has felt himself constrained to dissent ; not for 
 want of due deference to the judgment which dictated 
 them, nor from any partiality for his own ; but partly in 
 consequence of remonstrances against the alterations last 
 alluded to, proceeding from sources equally entitled to re- 
 spect. The ultimate decision, in every case, he supposed, 
 should rest ^'^nh him, whose it is to sustain the responsi- 
 bility. T^^^ mere critic, however, he never expected to 
 please. - i estimating a work of this kind, judgment should 
 be tempered with devotion. Hence, in deciding on the 
 use to be made of the numerous remarks of his friendly 
 advisers, who differed widely from each other, he has 
 given the preference to the opinions of those, who, other 
 things being equal, were, as he had reasons to think, most 
 skilled in the science of the heart, and in the practice of 
 devotion; " who," in the language of the apostle, "by rea- 
 son of use, have their senses exercised to discern both good 
 and evil." Several erasures have been the consequence, 
 by which it is hoped the imperfections of the book have 
 been diminished. Some omissions have also been sup- 
 plied, and such portions of the work as are most liable to 
 abuse, guarded more sXxor^ against perversion. By en- 
 
iv ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 larging the page, the quantity of reading matter in this 
 volume is made to exceed that in the first edition by more 
 than twenty pages. 
 
 The general character of the work remains what it was. 
 The feature most obnoxious to censure is its melancholy. 
 From the detail of desponding feelings, doubts, and temp- 
 tations, unhappy consequences to the reader have been 
 feared. In giving to these so much prominence, the com- 
 piler has probably erred ; still, they could not have been 
 wholly concealed, without the sacrifice of historical verity. 
 Besides, we are liable to err in judging, a priori, of the 
 effect of such writings. Dr. Payson, contrary to maternal 
 fears, was relieved, comforted, and instructed, by reading 
 of the melancholy workings of Cowper's mind. We might 
 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 follows, so inimitably ex- 
 pressive of strong faith in God, and confidence in his provi- 
 dential government. In like manner, should the reader feel 
 oppressed by the distressing exercises which are detailed 
 in some of the following chapters, let him glance, for a 
 moment, to their issue, and find relief in contemplating the 
 triumphs of Payson's later days. 
 
 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 sur- 
 mount 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 in- 
 dividual, whose constitutional hinderances to a peaceful andi 
 constant progress in piety are more hard to be vanquished, 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. ^ 
 
 or more aggravated by bodily maladies ? Who, then, can 
 succumb, since he came off victor ? 
 
 It may also deserve consideration, whether the de- 
 velop ement 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 arrange- 
 ments of his providence and in the dispensations of his 
 grace, that attainments should bear some 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 ordi- 
 nary standard; his spiritual joys transcended, perhaps, 
 those of any other tenant of earth. Let 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 exer- 
 cises and affections, of which he was the subject, have no 
 necessary connexion with religion. Some of them, it will 
 be seen in the progress of the work, have been laid out of 
 the account, in estimating his personal religion. They 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, though not 
 good in themselves, are often known to "work out the 
 peaceable fruits of righteousness." 
 
 The suggestion also has 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 
 
vi ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 be. It is an active, not a contemplative age. The busi- 
 ness of Christians is, in fact, without, among their fellow 
 creatures ; not within, in communion with their own hearts. 
 These circumstances, conspiring with man's natural aver- 
 sion to self-examination, and the paramount difficulty of the 
 duty, may bring on a deplorable inattention to the heart ; 
 they certainly will, if relative duties be regarded as a sub- 
 stitute for private devotion. The church should look to it, 
 that the springs of action be not dried up. The benevo- 
 lent operations of the day were set in motion by men of 
 such deep and heart-pervading piety as Pay son's. Such 
 piety must continue to urge them onward, or their move- 
 ments will be sluggish and inefficient. The two classes of 
 duties will here be seen to have received mcxited attention, 
 and their reciprocal influence will be scarcely less ob- 
 vious. 
 
 In executing his extremely delicate and responsible task, 
 the compiler has had occasion to feel the value of the coun- 
 sel and the promise, which are addressed to those who 
 " lack wisdom ;" and can take no praise to himself that his 
 errors of judgment have not been more numerous and more 
 flagrant. May God attend the perusal of the book, not- 
 withstanding its imperfections, with his gracious benedic- 
 tion. 
 July, 1830. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Page. 
 Uses of religious biography. Birth of Edward Payson His early 
 impressions ; intellectual qualities ; filial and fraternal conduct ; 
 moral character His literary education: enters Harvard Col- 
 lege J his reputation there ' 1 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 Comprising a pel'iod of three years from the time of his leaving 
 college ,,^ 12 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 His religious history during the period embraced in the preceding 
 chapter 28 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Retires to Rindge, and devotes himself exclusively to his prepara- 
 tion for the ministry 56 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 His state of mind in the immediate prospect of the ministry. . . 74 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 His first efforts as a preacher His religious character furth:r de- 
 veloped 84 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Visits Portland His favorable reception, and Ordination. . . . 10,^ 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 1 
 
 His concern for his flock Reverse in his temporal prospects Is 
 taken from his work by sickness ll^' 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Resumes his pastoral labors Letters Review of the year. . . , 1^8 
 
 CHAPTER X. ^ 
 
 His dependence on God ; its influence on himself and church His 
 uniform purpose to know nothing save Jesus Christ and Him cru- 
 cified Illustra-tion Letters Resolutions Increased success. . 141 
 
Viii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. Page. 
 
 Permanency and strength of maternal influence Correspon- 
 dence Death-bed anguish, how alleviated Disgraceful inci- 
 dent Price of popularity Reasons of former trials developed 
 Letters, &c 158 
 
 CHAPTER XH. 
 
 Holy aspirations Gratitude to the Saviour Multiplied labors 
 Novel family scene Danger averted '' Curious frame" Flat- 
 tery deprecated His marriage Becomes sole pastor of the 
 church Retrospect of the year 170 
 
 CHAPTER XHI. 
 
 Forms of prayer Thoughts on public prayer His sincerity The 
 importance of this quality to a minister's success 187 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The pastor in action Methods of exciting, sustaining and extend- 
 ing a due interest in religious concerns Preaching, adminis- 
 tration of ordinances, church fast, conference, inquiry meetings. 208 
 
 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 publica- 
 tions 236 
 
 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, con- 
 versation, and prayers on other visiters Excursions in behalf 
 of charitable societies Translation of ministers He is invited 
 to Boston and New York 251 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Letters to persons in various circumstances and states of mind. . 266 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 'lis private character His affections and demeanor as a husband, 
 father, master, friend His gratitude, economy, generosity His 
 temper of mind under injuries 291 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 further particulars relating to his personal history, and religious 
 exercises, in connexion with his pastoral labors and their re- 
 sults 307 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 His last labors His spiritual joys, heavenly counsels, and bright- 
 ening intellect, during the progress of his disease His triumph- 
 ant exit Conclusion 344 
 
MEMOIR 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Uses of religious UograpTiy. Birth of Edward Payson 
 His early impressions ; intellectual qualities ; filial and 
 fraternal conduct; moral character His literary educa- 
 tion : enters Harvard College ; his reputation there. 
 
 If, as it has been well observed, " the memorials of the good 
 constitute one of the most sacred possessions of the Church 
 of Christ," there is an obligation, resting on each successive 
 generation of her children, to perpetuate those living evidences 
 of Christianity, which have been exhibited by their most dis- 
 tinguished contemporaries. It is not submitted to our choice, 
 whether, or not, we will preserve and hand down the charac- 
 ters of such as have been eminent in their day for tho savor 
 and strength of their piety, the ardor and steadfastness of their 
 devotion, the consistency and power of their example, and the 
 abundance and success of their labors in the cause of their 
 crucified King : the duty is imperative. Nor does the value 
 of a mere human example depend upon its freedom from im- 
 perfection, so much as upon the degree of resistance, which 
 its original has overcome in his progress towards * the mark of 
 our high callii^.' To secure the object contemplated by such 
 a memorialgitns not necessary to hold up the character as 
 faultless, nor even to magnify its excellences, or extenuate 
 its defects. A strict adherence to truth, and a just represen- 
 tation of facts, will not only be safest for man, but most effect- 
 ually 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 
 1 
 
2 MEMOIR OF 
 
 its guilt and wretchedness, would sink in everlasting despon- 
 dency, if it might not revert to the ' chief of sinners,' as among 
 the number whom Christ came to save, and who have actual- 
 ly obtained salvation. The discouragements arising from in- 
 bred sin, in all its countless varieties of operation, would de- 
 press the Christian almost beyond recovery, but for the record- 
 ed experience of others, weighed down by the pressure of sim- 
 ilar 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 pil- 
 grimage, have ^ endured,' and the terrible conflicts with pas- 
 sion 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. Ene- 
 mies as virulent and formidable as any that lie in wait for 
 our souls, have been successfully resisted, trials as disheart- 
 ening, and struggles as desperate, as any that await our faith, 
 have been met, sustained, surmounted, by men * of like pas- 
 sions 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 * 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 himaelf conscious ; 
 between the moral achievements of a man, carrieft forward by 
 the steady energies of a purifying faith, and the few and slug- 
 gish efforts, which fill up his own history, can hardly fail to 
 reveal him to himself, jis one ' weighed in the balance and 
 found wanting.' He reads of exertions, which he never put 
 forth ; of humiliation and self-denial, which he never practised ; 
 of confessions, which his heart never dictated ; of exercises, 
 which he never experienced ; of hopes and prospects, by 
 which his own" bosom was never gladdened. In the character 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 3 
 
 of the determined Christian, he discerns a renunciation of 
 self, and a godly jealousy over the workings of the heart, natu- 
 rally deceitful above all things, which are totally at war with 
 his own self-confidence. He learns, that, under all varieties 
 of outward condition, self-mortification is still an eminent 
 characteristic of the follower of Christ; that no man, who 
 warreth, entangleth himself with the affairs of this world; that 
 the expectant of the crown of righteousness is no more exempted 
 from the agonizing strife to obtain it, than he was in the days 
 of primitive 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 Bax- 
 ter, Brainerd, Edwards, Martyn, and others of a kindred spir- 
 it^ who, but for these memorials, would have been lost to the 
 Church of Christ, and perhaps have become her most deter- 
 mined ^oes ! The * children of this world' understand the in- 
 fluence 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 has been too busily and curiously employed in en- 
 rolling and blazoning names, which will scarcely outlive the 
 records of the grave-stone," still *' it is not easy to estimate 
 the loss, which is sustained by the Christian community, when 
 an example of eminent sanctity and heroic zeal is defrauded 
 of its just honors, when a living epistle of apostolic piety is 
 suffered to perish ; or, to change the figure, when the lamp 
 kindled by a holy life, which might have shone to posterity, 
 is suffered to go out." 
 
 If Christians in the ordinary walks of life need the stimu- 
 lus 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 
 
4 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 continued 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 new action, to know that 
 his fellow-laborers in the kingdom and patience of Jesus have 
 then been most singularly blessed, when they thought them- 
 selves 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 ' consid- 
 eration' of those, v/ho are * wearied and faint in their minds V 
 Can any, to whom God affords the opportunity, be excusa- 
 ble in neglecting to erect an additional monument in the 
 " temple of Christianity," and to conduct thither the despond- 
 ing, 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 attempt- 
 ed. The hope, that good results will be realized, is not the 
 less confident, because the materials to which access has been 
 had, are of the least imposing pretensions. It promises little 
 of incident or adventure, qualities which, with many, con- 
 stitute the principal attractions of a book. It is the history ot 
 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 opin- 
 ions. 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 not less 
 generally instructive that of one "whose warfare is within," 
 and who successfully applied the results of his agonizing 
 and joyful experience in training, 
 
 by every rule 
 Of holy discipline, to glorious war, 
 The sacramental host of God's elect. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 
 
 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. 
 
 Edward Payson was born at Pcindge, New Hampshire, 
 July 2e5th, 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 full- 
 est testimony in the subsequent and repeated acknowledg- 
 ments 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 inquisi- 
 tiveness of mind, which early discovered itself in him ; and to 
 have patiently heard and replied to the almost endless inqui- 
 ries, 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 opportunities must have been 
 less frequent, and his instructions have partaken of a more 
 set and formal character. With the mother, however, op- 
 portunities 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 ex- 
 tended 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 accomplish- 
 ment, 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 
 1* 
 
6 MEMOIR OF 
 
 nothing could check. And they were not in vain. From 
 the first developementof 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 seri- 
 ousness 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 miOther 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 were they so regarded by his father, 
 who had earnestly desired to see him a decided follov.^er of 
 the Redeemer, before encountering 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 3'ounger than this son. Strictly speaking, there- 
 fore, 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 curios- 
 ity, 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 lis- 
 tened 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 7 
 
 around him, sitting in delightful composure, and enjoying the 
 sublimity of the scene.* 
 
 He is said to have manifested an early predilection for 
 arithmetic ; and was a tolerable proficient in the art of read- 
 ing at the age of four years an art, which no man ever em- 
 ployed 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 collec- 
 tion, 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 enliven- 
 ing and embellishing discourse. 
 
 It is natural to inquire, whether there was any thing 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, particu- 
 larly in the '' busy seasons" of the year. But, whatever were 
 his employment, 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 sought to quench, or rather to cherish, by resorting to his 
 book at every interval from toil, however short, when he tasked 
 his mind to the utmost of its power, intent on making the 
 greatest possible acquisition in a given time. His mind, though 
 strung up to the highest pitch of exertion at these seasons, 
 
 " Beattie's Minstrel, it seems, is not a mere creature of the imagination i 
 
 And oft the crag-g-y 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, leng-thening- to th' horizon round, 
 
 Now scooped m gulfs, with mountains now embossM ! 
 
 And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound, 
 
 Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along- the hoar profound ! 
 
 In truth, he v/as a strange and wayward wight. 
 Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene. 
 In darkness and in storm he found delight. 
 
8 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 acquisi- 
 tions, in this way obtained, fiirnished 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 pur- 
 sued, 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 pub- 
 lic 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 reli- 
 gion, would be like putting a sword into the hands of a mad- 
 man." 
 
 Whether the father was led to adopt such strong language, 
 from having observed in his son the existence of those proper- 
 ties, which, in their future developement, 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, gener- 
 ous youth. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 9 
 
 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 leal cause of hesitancy vi^as, probably, the tender age and 
 inexperience of the son. The interval of his detention and 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- 
 sive interest. Young Pay son, 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 ob- 
 jections 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 not that he was destitute of real 
 worth ; but there were circumstances, which prevented that 
 worth fi*om being appreciated. The first impressions respect- 
 ing him were unfavorable. ^ You would have taken him, 
 says a classmate, for an unpolished, ignorant country lad; 
 exceedingly modest, unassuming, and reserved in his man- 
 ners. And, as we generally look for a long time at the words 
 and actions of a character through the same medium by which 
 he was first presented to us, his merit was for a long time 
 unknown.' This judging from appearances is, perhaps, una- 
 voidable, 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 expres- 
 sively ; and when addressing an audience from the pulpit, they 
 would " pry through the portals of the head," and give a thrill* 
 ing emphasis to the language of his lips. 
 
 Mr. Payson's classmate, just quoted, and who also occupied 
 the same rooms with him during the whole period of his resi- 
 dence at college, bears decided testimony to the purity of his 
 morals, and the regularity of his habits, as well as other esti- 
 mable qualities. With his intimate friends, he was social. 
 
10 MEMOIR OF 
 
 communicative, and peculiarly interesting and improving, and, 
 by those u^ho 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 resume his reading. He was invariably prepared to 
 meet his instructer, prompt in reciting, and seldom committed 
 a mistake. His manner of rehearsing was rapid, his tone of 
 voice low, with a kind of instinctive shrinking from every thing 
 which had the appearance of display. He seems to have been 
 regarded as no more than a decent scholar by his associates 
 and teachers generally at college ; but " after having been with 
 him a few months, I was convinced that he possessed uncom- 
 mon 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 es- 
 timation 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 
 perseverance of character, which were sure indications of suc- 
 cess, in whatever course he might eventually direct his pro- 
 fessional pursuits. In the regular course of college studies, 
 pursued at the time of his residence at Cambridge, he main- 
 tained 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 philos- 
 ophy and astronomy, at that time so unpopular, and so little 
 understood by a large proportion of the students." It is not 
 remembered, however, that there was any public recognition 
 of distinguished merit in him, at the time he commenced 
 Bachelor of Arts. 
 
 The reputation of being " a great reader," as the phrase is 
 often applied, is a very undesirable distinction ; it is one, how- 
 ever, which Mr. Payson bore in common with thousands, who 
 are not the wiser for their reading. His firequent resort to the 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. H 
 
 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 al- 
 coves 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, illus- 
 trating the power of this faculty, and the severity of those tests 
 to which it was subjected. 
 
12 MEMOIR OF 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Comprising a period of three years from the time of his leav- 
 ing 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 recentr 
 ly 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 near- 
 ly the same routine of duties, cannot be very prolific in inci- 
 dent, or very favorable to the developement 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 w^ere held. He acquired and sustained a 
 good reputation as an instructor ; but from a man possessing 
 his characteristics, something more would naturally be expect- 
 ed. He was certainly endued with a rare faculty for communi- 
 cating knowledge, and v/ith 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 folloAV the order and manner of the 
 text-books then in use, would probably have been regarded as 
 an empiric ; besides, the 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 sup- 
 posed, that he engaged in the business of instruction, and 
 prosecuted it with that all-absorbing interest and determina- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 13 
 
 tion 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 in- 
 dispensable to man's highest achievements doing all to the 
 glory of God. As it was, he is remembered by surviving pu- 
 pils 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 Be- 
 loved.'* 
 
 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 reputa- 
 ble, and that, too, with a gust as exquisite as their most hearty 
 devotee how frequently, or to what extent, the writer is igno- 
 rant. 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 serious- 
 ness became habitual, he was averse to going into compa- 
 ny, even to a fault. He dreaded an invitation to a social par- 
 ty, 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 regulat- 
 ed as to subserve mutual improvement. They were select lite- 
 rary friends, some of them his classmates, whose fellowship was 
 in a high degree intimate and endearing. With these he pass- 
 ed many pleasant and profitable hours, and cemented a friend- 
 ship, 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 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 wild- 
 er 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 enter- 
 tainment of his companions. Of these intellectual banquets, 
 his contributions were the most coveted and exquisite portion. 
 
 But no distance, employment, or friendships, could v/eaken 
 his attachment to the paternal home, or diminish the strength 
 2 
 
14 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 of his 
 intellectual qualities. They are addressed to his " Ever Dear 
 and Honored Parents." 
 
 Portland, Matj 20, 1804. 
 
 ''It is not the least among the distressing circumstances at- 
 tending the late afflicting dispensation of Providence, that I 
 am unable in person to share in your grief, and alleviate, by 
 filial sympathy and affection, the keenness of your sorrow. 
 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, \ 
 feel, flow with double rapidity, since I received her letter. I 
 witness, in fancy, the happiness of home, and long to partici- 
 pate and increase it; but for the present must be content with 
 rejoicing alone. I cannot possibly plead guilty to the charge 
 of ' not thinking of home, so often as home does of me.' On 
 the contrary, I believe home has very little due on that score, 
 if we consider the frequency, and not the value, of the 
 thoughts. But, my dear Parents, if a few of those thoughts 
 could be imbodied on paper, and sent me, how much more 
 good they would do, and how much more pleasure they would 
 communicate, than if they were to remain in their native 
 place ! 
 
 " I am still without an assistant, and, as the number of stu- 
 dents has been increased, my task is very laborious. Howev- 
 er, 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." 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 15 
 
 " 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 quali- 
 fied. I once thought it was impossible for my filial affection to 
 be increased ; but the kindness which first gave birth to it in- 
 creases every visit I make, and that must increase with 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 rare- 
 ness 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, es- 
 pecially between Arminians and Calvinists. * ^ * =^ 
 
 " We had a long passage, but met with no accident, except 
 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, 1 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 re- 
 ceive one letter this year, I should have no right to complain. 
 Yet, though not of right, I may of favor entreat for a few oc- 
 casional tokens of remembrance. I have as yet scarcely recov- 
 ered 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 
 
IG MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 oc- 
 casion 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 B*****, there was one 
 which completely puzzled me. I could think of no employ- 
 ment that would fit it, except that of a =5t***#** representa- 
 tive, 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 gravi- 
 ty 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 advertisem.ents, 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 band, I began to entertain my fellow travellers 
 with its numerous beauties of expression, spelling, and gram- 
 mar. 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 17 
 
 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 longi- 
 tude of his face increase every moment, I desisted, very much 
 mortified that my efforts were so unsuccessful. But, in the midst 
 of my chagrin, the coach stopped, the gentleman alighted, and 
 was welcomed by a little squab wife into a shop decorated with 
 the letters, " Medical Cordial Store." I afterwards learnt 
 he is the greatest quack-medicine seller in B. Excuse me, my 
 dear father, for this long, dull story. I thought it would be 
 shorter. I feel rather out of tune for embellishing to-day. 
 
 " We have lately been in a hubbub here about a theatre. Af- 
 ter a great deal of dispute, the town voted, to the astonishment 
 of all, that they would not, if they could help it, suffer the es- 
 tablishment 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 as- 
 serted, that, though bad plays v/ere sometimes acted, bad ser- 
 mons 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 Pays on." 
 
 '' October Id, 1805. 
 
 " I must, my dear mother, give you some account of my 
 comforts. In the first place, I have a very handsome cham- 
 ber, 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 ex- 
 press 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 fuel sufficient for the evening. An agreement with 
 a neighboring bookseller furnishes me with books in plenty 
 and variety. The objection to our meals is, they are too 
 good, and consist of too great a variety. And what gives a 
 zest to all, without which it would be insipid, is, that 1 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 
 2# 
 
18 MEMOIR OF 
 
 I humbly hope and trust will continue to bless me, through all 
 my future existence." 
 
 '' November 18, 1805. 
 '^My dear Mother, 
 
 " I 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 confin- 
 ed thirty-two days, and I was requested to watch with him ; 
 and a more exquisitely distressing task I hope never to under- 
 take. 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, seem.ed unable to support the 
 idea of a separation. Fatigue and loss of sleep made her light- 
 headed ; and, at times, she raved almost as badly as the pa- 
 tient. His sister, a gay, thoughtless girl, was in a paroxysm of 
 loud and turbulent grief; while a young lady, whom he was 
 expecting to marry, heightened the distress by marks of an- 
 guish too strong to be concealed, and which seemed to flow 
 from tenderness equal to any thing t have met with in ro- 
 mance. 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 forjiours obliged to 
 support with one hand, while I wiped oil the sweat of death 
 with the other ; the inarticulate expressions of anguish, min- 
 gled with prayers, of the mother; the loud and bitter lamenta- 
 tions 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 v/hich 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 mind. 
 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 witness- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. IQ 
 
 ed, you can never conceive how it affected me. But, distress- 
 ing 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 I don't know what that they 
 
 seem unable to thank me enough." 
 
 '' 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 se- 
 rious as I wish. You prophesied, when I was at home, that 
 our friendship would not last long ; but since it has survived a 
 visit to the Cataract of Niagara, to Saratoga Springs, and a 
 voyage to the West Indies, it is something of a proof that 
 many waters cannot quench, neither floods drown it. 
 
 *' A classmate, who has commenced preaching, called last 
 week to see me. Speaking of an old tutor of ours, a very 
 pious man, who has lately lost a much loved wife, he men- 
 tioned 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 
 Armjnian. I daily see more occasion to be convmced, 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 ma- 
 jority 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 liv- 
 ing 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 un- 
 meaning tattle of the drawing-room, or the flippant vivacity of 
 professed wits. What gives me most uneasiness, and what I 
 fear will always be a thorn in my path, is, too great a thirst 
 for applause. When I sit down to write, I perpetually catch 
 myself considering, not what will be most useful, but what will 
 be most likely to gain praise from an audience. If I should 
 
20 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 ! What a temptation this disposi- 
 tion 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 disa- 
 greeable ; 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 express- 
 ed. You must have observed, that my letters are very ob- 
 scure ; 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, ******** *^ 
 4^**#*:5^**#4t* gQ much by way of apology, by 
 which, as is usually the case with apologies, I have only made 
 bad worse." 
 
 "April2,lB06. 
 "My dear Mother, 
 
 " I have just received your \2istpaquetj 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 them. However, if my good friends 
 are fond of them, and prefer them to the rapid effusions of af- 
 fection that will hardly wait the pen's motion, I will soon write 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 21 
 
 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 sur- 
 est 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 au- 
 thorities 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 the time, well know that there were many 
 reasons 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. 
 
22 MEMOIR OF 
 
 Already may we hear the roaring of the surge ; already do wg 
 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 perish- 
 ed, warn us of our approaching fate, and eagerly strive to ter- 
 rify us from our course. It seems to be an immutable law of 
 our nature, that nations, as well as individuals, shall learn wis- 
 dom by no experience but their own. That blind, that ac- 
 cursed 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 rela- 
 tion 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 ani- 
 mal 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 alli- 
 gator, what does it avail him, that he is allowed to graze 
 his native plains in safety V 
 
 Some of his paragraphs are as significant as they are glow- 
 ing : 
 
 "That virtue, both in those who command and those 
 who obey, is absolutely essential to the existence of repub- 
 lics, is a maxim, and a most important one, in political 
 science. Whether we retain a sufficient share of this vir- 
 tue to promise ourselves a long duration, you, my friends, 
 must decide. But, should the period ever arrive, when lux- 
 ury and intemperance shall corrupt our towns, while igno- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 23 
 
 ranee 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 leg- 
 islators 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." ^ 
 
 Afi;er drawing a most striking and vivid contrast between 
 the circumstances and prospects of the country as they existed 
 at the time, and as they had been at a former period, he pro- 
 ceeds : 
 
 " The imperfect sketch of our situation, which has just been 
 given,, is not drawn for the sake of indulging in idle com- 
 plaints 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 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 atten- 
 tion to the interests of our country and the preservation of lib- 
 erty, 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 inter- 
 esting 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 
 
24 MEMOIR Ot^ 
 
 strength, and rejoicing in our victory, suffered our indefati- 
 gable 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 wor- 
 thy 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 ca- 
 reer ; and that the people, having learned wisdom by experi- 
 ence, 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 confla- 
 gration 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 tor- 
 rent which approaches us is the overwhelming deluge of Ve- 
 suvius or iEtna, 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. 
 
 " Away, then, with those idle hopes and frivolous excuses, 
 w^hich defraud us of the only moments in which our safety can 
 be secured. Away with that indolence, so unworthy, so in- 
 consistent 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 com- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 25 
 
 plete 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 even the 
 shades and mists of ******* prejudice. Remember, that, 
 when good is to be promoted, or evil opposed, it is the duty of 
 every individual to conduct as if the whole success of the en- 
 terprise depended on himself Remember, too, that there is 
 no individual so insignificant, that he cannot afford some as- 
 sistance in the struggle for liberty and order. 
 
 " But let us be careful, my friends, to engage in this strug- 
 gle, in a manner, and with arms, worthy of the cause we pro- 
 fess 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 scur- 
 rility and abuse ? ***** Why should we exchange weapons, 
 with which we are certain of victory, for those which our ad- 
 versaries can wield with equal, and perhaps superior dexterity ? 
 
 *' 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 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 w^ere for- 
 merly our glory, our ornament, and defence. Would you 
 know, my friends, the real source of the calamities we suf- 
 fer, and the dangers we fear ? It is here ; we have forsak- 
 en 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 
 3 
 
26 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 re- 
 semble them in their destruction. It is an immutable truth, 
 that sin is the ruin of any people ; and wo to that nation who 
 w^ill not believe it without making the experiment. This ex- 
 periment, fatal as it must prove, we seem resolved to make. 
 Among us God's laws are disobeyed, his institutions are de- 
 spised, 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 ? **=>=** 
 
 " 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 thou- 
 sandth repetition, still, if we have not yet reduced them to 
 practice, it is necessary to hear them again and again. Re- 
 member, that it is in vain to boast of our patriotism, and make 
 high pretensions to love for our country, while, by our private 
 vices, we are adding to the national debt of iniquity under 
 which she groans, and which must soon plunge her in the 
 gulf of irretrievable ruin. Hear, and remember that if, in 
 defiance of reason, gratitude, and religion, we still madly per- 
 sist 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 inexperi- 
 ence. 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 27 
 
 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 oc- 
 casion 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. 
 
28 MEMOIR OF 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 His religious history during the period embraced in the pre* 
 ceding chapter. 
 
 "When did Dr. Payson become religious?" and "What 
 was the character of his rehgious 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, ap- 
 peared wholly unaccountable. If he ever fully communicated 
 those inward feelings and exercises, which issued in a con- 
 firmed 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 experi- 
 ence 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. 
 
 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 con- 
 verted in childhood. His room-mate, since a minister of the 
 gospel, thinks that ' he experienced religion before entering col- 
 lege, but, owing to his peculiar situation while there, became a, 
 backslider.' Another classmate, one of the literary associates 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 29 
 
 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 appreci- 
 ate worth, wherever found, has thus expressed himself in rela- 
 tion to these questions : " His theological opinions, during 
 his early consideration of subjects of that nature, were essen- 
 tially Calvinistic ; but his views of the operative power of re- 
 ligious 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 opera- 
 tions of his religion, so far as they can be gathered from writ- 
 ings which he has left behind him. His religion was of a 
 comparatively gentle, unobtrusive, amiable, yet progressive, 
 character, less marked by the extremes of agonizing and tri- 
 umphant feelings, than it was at a subsequent period a differ- 
 ence, for which the reader will, in the sequel, be at no loss to 
 account. From the early part of 1804, religion seems to have 
 been his all-engrossing concern ; his attention was then ar- 
 rested, and fixed so as never afterwards to be diverted, for any 
 length of time, from the subject. Whether he were in an un- 
 converted, 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 in- 
 terests as far back as May 20, 1804,* the time when his let- 
 ter was dated, and it more than intimates that the subject with 
 him was not new. 
 
 '* My dear mother's fears respecting my attention to relig- 
 
 * This date is given, as it appears in Dr. Payson's hand-writing. A corre- 
 spondent, however, places it a year later. If the date of the brother's death 
 has been preserved on the Family Record, which is altogether probable, to 
 that date this change in his feelings should be referred. It is possible some- 
 thing may have faded from the last of the figures denoting the year. 
 
 It has been stated, on credible authority, that Dr. Payson was so much af- 
 fected by this bereavement, that he confined himself to his chamber for three 
 days J 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 
 church than to himself. 
 
 '' God is his own Interpreter.'' 
 
 3* 
 
30 RfEMOIR OF 
 
 ious 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 stran- 
 ger, 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 deceit- 
 ful 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 as- 
 sistance 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 in- 
 formed 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 down this punish- 
 ment, and occasioned this distress to my friends. My care- 
 less, obdurate heart rendered it necessary to punish and hum- 
 ble it : and O that the punishment had fallen where it was 
 due ! But I can pursue the subject no further." 
 
 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 infer- 
 red 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 re- 
 forming. 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 irre- 
 sistible propensity to criticise the preacher, instead of attend- 
 ing to the instructions ; and, notwithstanding a full conviction 
 that this conduct is wrong, I persist in it still. Hence it hap- 
 pens, 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 3| 
 
 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 
 vvith 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 tempta- 
 tion, 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 per- 
 haps occasion a week's gloom and despondency ; yet the least 
 temptation leads me to do what I feel conscious, at the time, 
 I shall 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 re- 
 spected." 
 
 " I have lately been severely tried with doubts and difficul- 
 ties respecting many parts of Scripture. Reading the other 
 day, I met with this passage, " for his great name's sake." 
 It w^as immediately suggested to my mind, that, as the Deity 
 bestowed all his favor 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 inconsis- 
 tencies and doubts, which, though they do not shake my be- 
 lief, render me for a time extremely miserable. I find no re- 
 lief 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. 
 
32 MEMOIR OF 
 
 '^ My dearest Mother, April 20, 1805. 
 
 " 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 resem- 
 ble 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 mer- 
 cies 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. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "Jwnel2, 1805. 
 *' I find I have been trying to establish a righteous- 
 ness of my own, though till lately I thought myself free from 
 any such design. Hence arose all that unwillingness to per- 
 form the public and private exercises of devotion, which I felt 
 afler any neglect of duty. I wanted, forsooth, to be encour- 
 aged 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 fond- 
 ly thought was the effect of great humility. Finding my- 
 self so deceived here, and in numberless other instances, I 
 am utterly at a loss what to do. If I attempt to perform any 
 
 * 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 
 tliose beautiful lines : 
 
 " My boast is not that I deduce my birth 
 From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth 5 
 But higher far my proud pretensions rise ; 
 The son of parents passed into the skies." 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 
 
 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 foOxi, they 
 are obliged to rest content with cold, dry lectures on morality, 
 enforced by any motives rather than evangelical. These min- 
 isters content themselves, generally, with pruning off some of 
 the most prominent excrescences of vice ; they leave the root 
 untouched, and cut off only the leaves. The more I think 
 of it, the more difficult does the duty appear ; and I tremble 
 at the thought of incurring such 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 lefl of himself are found in 
 a manuscript volume, written in characters which it has been 
 a long and difficult work to decipher. The following are the 
 first two paragraphs : 
 
 ^^ July 25, 1805. This day, being my twenty-second birth 
 day, I have determined to commence a diary, as a check on 
 the misemploy ment of time." 
 
 Same date. " 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 sin- 
 cerity, as I humbly hope, I took the Lord to be my God, and 
 engaged to love, serve, and obey him. Relying on the assist- 
 ance of his Holy Spirit, I engaged to take the holy Scriptures 
 as the rule of my conduct, the Lord Jesus Christ to be ray 
 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 de- 
 sire to ' pay the vows which his lips had uttered/ He made 
 
 f 
 
34 MEMOIR OF 
 
 Strenuous efforts to redeem the morning hours from sleep, that 
 he might enjoy an uninterrupted season for reading the Scrip- 
 tures, 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 con- 
 siderable attention to divinity,' and of expecting, * in another 
 year, to commence preaching, if he should feel competent to 
 such an undertaking.' 
 
 " Portland, July 25, 1805. 
 "My dear Parents, 
 
 " This day, which completes my twenty-second year, re- 
 news the remembrance of the numerous claims your contin- 
 ued 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 grat- 
 itude 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 hap- 
 piness, in my power to procure for you, I most earnestly en- 
 treat 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." 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 35 
 
 Mr. Payson made a public profession of religion September 
 1, 1805. 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 memo- 
 rial remains. The record of them was probably destroyed by 
 himself, as there is a hiatus in his diary from about a month 
 previous to this event till the 19th of January following. It 
 is not an omission, but an obvious mutilation. The only 
 direct 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 re- 
 joice 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 encour- 
 aged 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 commo- 
 dity. Since my return from Rindge, bating a few disagreea- 
 ble days after parting with my friends, I have hardly known 
 one unhappy moment. The doubts which formerly obscurei 
 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 preach- 
 ing 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 infinite- 
 ly, so condescendingly kind. This, indeed, seems impossible 
 at the time ; it then seems that worldly objects cannot possi- 
 bly 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 
 
 n^ 
 
 m 
 
i 
 
 36 MEMOIR OF 
 
 be left openly to dishonor the holy name by which I am called 
 my dear mother, how distressing !" 
 
 " October 29. 
 
 " These worldly comforts are nothing to the serenity 
 
 and peace of mind with which I am favored, and the happi- 
 ness arising from love, gratitude, and confidence. Even con- 
 trition 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 partici- 
 pate, 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, consis- 
 tent 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 hum- 
 bling ourselves in the dust, and confessing our sins and un- 
 worthiness !" 
 
 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. Pay- 
 son, 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 cat- 
 echism, and a hymn to commit to memory on the Sabbath ; 
 and, on Monday morning, after hearing them recite, I lectur- 
 ed them on the subjects about three quarters of an hour. 
 They paid strict attention. It is, however, discouraging to 
 attempt any thing of this kind, and a most lively faith alone 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 37 
 
 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 impres- 
 sion on my mind, that all the good I enjoy my friends were 
 stirred up to pray for ; and I hope I and my scholars shall 
 reap the advantage of them in this case. When I look at 
 them, and reflect how many dangers they are exposed to, v/hat 
 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 v/hen ad- 
 dressing 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." 
 
 ^' Januarij 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|i| 
 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 them- 
 selves ridiculous by retailing, as novelty, what every one knew 
 before. In like manner, I am somewhat apprehensive of ap- 
 pearing to you, in 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 wifl require some patience to 
 read my relations. However, I trust to your goodness, and 
 hope you will remember, that many things, which are now 
 4 
 
38 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 
 liis intercourse with associates of the same standing with him- 
 self 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 be- 
 tween relatives by consanguinity, or those who are joined in 
 marriage, or other friends. The idea of parting must imbit- 
 tcr 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 ev- 
 ery hour of his life he infringes that law which says ^ cursed 
 ^s every one that continueth not in all things WTitten therein 
 to do them V 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 per- 
 mitted 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, 
 iliat the divine law extends 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 39 
 
 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." 
 
 '' May 8. 
 
 " Take my word for it, there is inexpressibly more enjoy- 
 ment in religion, in this life, than the most happy sinner since 
 creation ever had to boast of It appears gloomy at a dis- 
 tance, 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 tes- 
 timony. That you may know more and more of it, is the 
 sincere prayer of your friend." 
 
 " I dare pledge any thing most dear to me, that, if you per- 
 sist in the diligent use of the means suggested, you shall not 
 long use them in vain. But, what is infinitely more to the 
 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, 
 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, ^ ^ * * ^ \^q 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 worthy of his favor by going about to establish a 
 righteousness of your own. He will not be a half Saviour. 
 He will do all or nothing. If you mean to come to him, you 
 
40 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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. Pay son felt his mind 
 embarrassed in relation to the doctrines of the Bible as un- 
 derstood by Calvinists. The first intimation of this perplexity 
 is in the following words : 
 
 ^' I have lately read Cole's Discourses. It is a very com- 
 fortable doctrine for the elect, but not so for the sinner. My 
 feelings say it is true, but reason wants to put in an oar. It 
 is at once encouraging and discouraging to ministers." 
 
 He afterwards expresses himself more fully on this subject, 
 and in a manner which shows that he did not take his religion 
 upon trust, but that his subsequent firm adherence to the doc- 
 trines of grace was the result of impartial examination. 
 
 " I mentioned in a former letter, that I had been reading 
 Cole. Since that I have studied, with considerable attention, 
 Edwards on the Will, and his treatise on Original Sin. I 
 know not what to do. On one hand, the arguments in favor 
 of Calvinism are strong ; and, what is more to the point, I 
 feel that most of them must be true ; and yet there are diflii- 
 culties, strong difficulties, ***** =^ in the way. 
 I care very little about them, as it concerns myself; but to 
 think that so many pf mankind must be miserable, strikes me 
 with disagreeable feelings. I wonder not that the unregener- 
 ate are so bitterly opposed to these doctrines and their profess- 
 ors, 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 * * * ^ * * heap on 
 him. I find, hov/ever, 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 excel- 
 lent. 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 ad- 
 vance such doctrines not let them alone. Thus I am perplex- 
 
EDWARD PAYSOIN. 41 
 
 ed. I feel that they are true, yet seem to know it is impossi- 
 ble 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 contradic- 
 tions may be reconciled." 
 
 There were practical questions, also, scarcely less embar- 
 rassing 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 frequently solicited to make 
 one of a visiting party, and to mingle in society on various oc- 
 casions. The nature of the trials hence arising, as well "tS 
 their issue, will be seen from a few extracts : 
 
 " After long doubting the propriety, and even the lawfulness, 
 of mixing at all in society, where duty does not call, and after 
 smarting a number of times for indulging myself in it, more, 
 however, through fear of 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.'' 
 
 To one who urged him to go into society and frequent pub- 
 lic 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 v/ho can do 
 it. I cannot think it proper or expedient for a Christian to go 
 into any company, unless necessity calls, where he may, per- 
 haps, hear the name he loves and reverences blasphemed, or at 
 least profaned, where that book, which he esteems the word 
 of God, will, if mentioned, be alluded to only to waken 
 laughter or ' adorn a tale,' where the laws of good breeding 
 are almost the only laws which may not be broken with impu- 
 nity, and where every thing he hears or sees has a strong ten- 
 dency 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 
 4 * 
 
42 MEMOIR OF 
 
 thoughts on earth, from which it is my duty and my desire to 
 turn them, to give me a distaste for serious duties, especially 
 prayer and meditation, and to render me desirous of the ap- 
 plause 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 feel- 
 ingly 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 which indisposes me for prayer^ and 
 interrupts comraunion 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 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 en- 
 deavor to do so, that I do not possess those talents for shining 
 in company, which are so apt to lead their possessors into too 
 great a fondness for gay and brilliant society. Yet, I confess, 
 though I am sensible they would prove a snare to me, I am 
 sometimes tempted to repine at the want of them ; and the 
 grant of all my wishes would soon render me the most miser- 
 able of beings." The circumstances in which this Vv'as 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." Be- 
 sides, 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 re- 
 
EDWARD TAYSON. 43 
 
 suited 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 to- 
 gether, except they be agreed V 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 des- 
 ert island. You, who live in the midst of Christian friends, 
 can hardly conceive of it. Associates are pleasant in any pur- 
 suit, but especially so in this. Two are better than one. We 
 shall together be better able to stand our ground against the 
 assaults of ridicule and reproach ; and may animate and en- 
 courage each other in our course." 
 
 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 super- 
 sede the necessity of any other adviser. It may be so ; but 
 we are apt to be bad commentators, v^here 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 vv^ill 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 grov/ing better, it grows worse. What a w^earisome 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 pov/er 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 ; es- 
 pecially, in the sacrament of the supper, the idea that I shall 
 certainly go away and offend him, who is there set forth cru- 
 cified before me, imbitters all my happiness." 
 
44 MEMOIR OF 
 
 " December 25. 
 ^' My dear Sister, 
 
 " I am not very prone to indulge the idea, that my happi- 
 ness can depend on change of place ; but when such fancies 
 do gain admittance, home is al;|i?ays the scene of my imagina- 
 ry bliss. It is, however, a remedy to consider, that, however 
 we may be separated from our friends in this world, yet, if we 
 choose them aright, we may indulge the hope of spending an 
 eternity together in the next. 
 
 " I have of late taken some pleasure in recollecting the pil- 
 grimages of our old friend Bunyan, and see a striking proprie- 
 ty in many parts of them, which I did not then rightly under- 
 stand. For some time past I have been with Tender Con- 
 science in the caves of Good Resolution and Contemplation, 
 and, like him, fell into the clutches of Spiritual Pride. It is 
 astonishing, and 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 influ- 
 ence continually thwarting and hindering me. And so many 
 plausible excuses are perpetually suggesting themselves, that 
 compliance can hardly be avoided." 
 
 " January 25. 
 ''My dear Mother. 
 
 " In one of the classics, which form part of my daily occu- 
 pation, 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 free him, and obliged daily to ex- 
 perience 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 di- 
 vine will obliges us to submit with patience to this most pain- 
 ful of all trials, and, since we know that perfection is not 
 granted to any in this world, how far we ought 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 45 
 
 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 peti- 
 tions 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 hap- 
 piness which I once rejoiced in. Yet, blessed be God ! I am 
 not left utterly dead and stupid, and am enabled to persevere 
 in 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 flat- 
 ter myself that sin was destroyed ; but now I find, by sad ex- 
 perience, 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 par- 
 ticipate 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 communi- 
 cate my joys, hopes, desires, and fears ; nobody who can par- 
 ticipate my pleasures or sympathize in my griefs. It is, per- 
 haps, best for me that it should be so ; but it is very unpleas- 
 ant. Most of my acquaintance consider me, as near as I can 
 guess, but a kind of hypocrite, who must, as a student in di- 
 vinity, 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." 
 
46 MEMOIR OF 
 
 '' Portland, April I, 1806. 
 ^' 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 their being out of my 
 reach, can restrain me. When I come home from school, 
 weary and dull, if I had any earthly friends at hand, I should 
 certainly apply to them for relief; but, not having 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 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 ar- 
 tifices does it c(mtirive to hide itself ! If, at any time, I am favor- 
 ed 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, immediate- 
 ly 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 con- 
 tinually harasses me. What a proof that the heart is the na- 
 tive 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 m^ny and grievous afflictions, in 
 order to keep me humble and dependant. However, it is of 
 no consequence. I know my great Physician is both able 
 9.nd willing to cure me, and I leave the manner to him ; trust- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 47 
 
 ing he will enable me to take whatever he prescribes, and 
 
 bless the prescription." 
 
 '' Portland, June 11, 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 informa- 
 tion is exhausted unless, indeed, I still make myself the sub- 
 ject ; and, for want of a better, I must. Owing partly, I be- 
 lieve, 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 \\\i\\ 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 cAvn sakeJ^ But, lately, the very ab- 
 sence 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 1 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 ap- 
 proaching happiness. 
 
 " I have, for some time, had something like a desire to be- 
 come 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, whip- 
 ped, 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 dubi- 
 ous proof of expansive Christian benevolence, than it would be 
 
48 MEMOIR OF 
 
 at the present day. The obligation of Christians to send the 
 gospel to the heathen could not have been learned from any 
 thing which the American Church was then doing, or had 
 done for a long period. As to any visible movement, she ap- 
 peared 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. Pay- 
 son was probably ignorant that another youthful bosom in the 
 country panted with the same desire ; though it was about 
 this time, if not in 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 vigi- 
 lance 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 se- 
 verity. They would find their severest judgments anticipated ; 
 and they would find too what the v/orld little suspects of the 
 Christian thol the smallest trespasses were the cause of 
 heart-felt lamentation and grief in those hours of secret retire- 
 ment, when no eye but Jehovah's was witness to his sorrow. 
 In his example, the young aspirant for fame might see an illus- 
 tration 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 ow^n. 
 So much will, nevertheless, be 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. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 49 
 
 Extracts from his Diary. 
 
 " Feh, 5, 1806. For this fortnight past, I have enjoyed a 
 tolerable share of assistance, but nothing transporting. Slow 
 progress. 
 
 " Feh, 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 glo- 
 rious 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. 
 
 " Feh, 8. There is no vice, of which I do not see the 
 seeds in myself, and which would bear fruit, did not grace 
 prevent. Notwithstanding this, I am perpetually pulling the 
 mote out of my brother's eye. 
 
 " Feh. 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 equa- 
 ble degree of comfort ; and, though slowly, yet surely, find 
 myself advancing. 
 
 " Feh. 11. A very dull day almost discouraged ; yet 1 
 hope the experience I gain of my utter inability to think so 
 much as a good thought, will have a tendency to mortify pride. 
 
 ^^ Feh. 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 en- 
 hance my guilt, I attempted, I hope sincerely, to give my- 
 self and all I possess to God, in the renewal of my covenant 
 engagements. 
 
 " Feh. 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 even- 
 ing, was 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. 
 
 " Feh. 17. In the morning, felt strong in the Lord, and in 
 the power of his might ; thought I could stand against all ene- 
 5 
 
50 MEMOIR OF 
 
 mies, but soon was as lifeless as ever. When shall I leam 
 that all my sufficiency is of God ! 
 
 " Feb. 19. What a poor, weak, unstable creature I am, 
 when Christ is absent ! Read Baxter's Saints' 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 , 
 
 -, &z^c. ; but, thanks to divine goodness, was enabled to de- 
 
 cline it. I tasted much sweetness in the former part of the 
 evening ; but in the latter part, I Avas favored with such dis- 
 plays of divine goodness, as almost forced me to exclaim, Lord, 
 stay thine hand ! 
 
 " Feb. 23. Was again favored with the divine presence. 
 I have some expectation of a heavy stroke impending. If it is 
 so, God's will be done. 
 
 *' Feb. 24. A great falling off from the enjoyments and 
 life of yesterday ; yet, blessed be God, I am not wholly de- 
 serted. 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 v/hich my efforts must 
 be directed, and which will cost me most conflicts. But I trust 
 in an almighty arm. 
 
 " Feb. 20. I drag along without advancing. O, how dis- 
 proportionate 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 coldness. 
 
 " Blarch 3. In the evening, partly by my own fault, and 
 partly by accident, got entangled in vain company. After- 
 wards 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 8. I cannot accuse myself of indulging in any 
 known sin, or neglecting any known duty; but I am so life- 
 less, so little engaged in religious things, that I seem to believe 
 as thougrh I believed hot. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 51 
 
 " March 10. Found considerable freedom in prayer. Was 
 too passionate in a dispute about a theatre. Had little free- 
 dom in speaking to the scholars. Was enabled to be diligent 
 in filling up my time. Was assisted in my studies. 
 
 " March 12. 1 act as if eternal things were a dream. When 
 shall I be wise ! 
 
 " Marcli 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 im- 
 proper motives ; but I trust my Guide will direct me. 
 
 " March 23. Read Pike's Saving Faith ; and, though at 
 first I was somewhat alarmed with fears that I had it not, yet, 
 blessed be God, my fears and doubts were soon removed. 1 
 was enabled to appeal to God for a witness of what he has done 
 for me. 1 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 ho- 
 liness. 
 
 " March 29. Renewed my covenant with God. Asked 
 assistance to do it with sincerity. My prayer was answered in 
 an 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 enjoy- 
 ed 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 
 
52 MEMOIR OF 
 
 before. I was almost ready to think this the period of my 
 conversion. The transport I felt was more rational and pene- 
 trating than I ever before experienced. It arose from an ap- 
 prehension of the perfect sufficiency of Christ in alj 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 detriment- 
 al. In the evening, was exceedingly depressed with a sense of 
 my vileness. I wished to shrink from society and observation. 
 Could hardly think of attempting to preach. Threw myself at 
 the feet of my blessed Saviour, and poured forth my sorrows 
 and complaints before him. Yet I suspect there was more of 
 self than any other principle in my tears. 
 
 " April 8. Was much exercised to-day on the subject of 
 election, and other truths 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. 
 
 " April 13. Sabbath. Felt the love of God sweetly shed 
 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 pas- 
 sion with an inanimate substance ; and thought, 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. 
 
 "^prz7 20. Had some sense of my miserable state, but lit- 
 tle 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. 
 
 a ^pyii 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 examina- 
 tion, that my mind has been much taken off* from religion. I 
 find writing sermons is not praying. 
 
EDWARD PAYSOIN. 53 
 
 " May 4. It is now long since I have enjoyed any of those 
 Bweet 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 tfifem. 
 
 " May 13. This was the day in which I intended to be ex- 
 amined before the Association, but it pleased JProvidence to 
 prevent. In the evening, reflected on my la.te 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 dis- 
 pute at breakfast ; and foolishly became angry. Retired ai^l 
 prayed for him with whom I was angry, and for myself V/as 
 enabled, in a considerable degree, to conquer my anger in this 
 matter. 
 
 " May 20. Find some remains of anger, notwithstanding 
 all my endeavors to suppress it. 
 
 *^ May 22. Since I began, in pursuance of my design, to 
 read the Scriptures, I have enjoyed more of the divine pres- 
 ence than before. 
 
 " May 23. Was favored in prayer. Was applied to by 
 the selectmen to deliver an oration on the 4th of July. Re- 
 fused at first ; but, being persuaded to consider of it, pride and 
 vanity prevailed, and I foolishly complied. Mem. Never to 
 consider, when I have a presentiment, at first, what I ought 
 to do. 
 
 " Sabhath, June 1. Sacrament. Enjoyed much of the di- 
 vine 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. Seem- 
 ed to feel more property in Christ and his benefits than I hat!^ 
 ever done before. After meeting, was filled with the blessed 
 consolations of the Spirit. O, how refreshing are those fore- 
 tastes 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 re- 
 ligious exercises. Enjoyed some comfort in prayer. 
 
 " June 15. Sabbath. Never felt such strong and lively 
 5* 
 
54 MEMOIR OF 
 
 faith in prayer as this morning. It seemed as if I had noth- 
 ing to do but to take whatever I pleased. 
 
 ^^ June 17. Was much harassed with wandering thoughts 
 in morning prayer. Was much assisted in my studies. 
 
 ^^June 28^ Felt myself exceedingly vile. Found no com- 
 fort in the exercises of public worship. My oration is a snare 
 to me. O, what an astonishing, bewitching power a thirst for 
 applause has over my mind ! I know it is of no consequence 
 what mankind think of me, and yet I am continually seeking 
 their approbation. 
 
 " June 29. Sabbath. Rose early, and was favored with 
 the presence and assistance of the blessed Spirit in prayer. 
 O, how sweet and refreshing it is to pour out our souls before 
 God ! O, the wonderful and unmerited goodness of God, in 
 keeping me from openly disgracing my profession ! If he had 
 left me one moment to myself, I had been ruined. Next Sab- 
 hath 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 gain- 
 ed 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 di- 
 vine presence and blessing in prayer. Mem, Applause can- 
 not confer happiness ! 
 
 ^^ July 6. Sabbath. My infinitely gracious God is still 
 present, to make his goodness pass before vhq. He has been 
 with me this morning in prayer, and enabled me sweetly to 
 say, 3Iy Father , my God. At the sacrament, my gracious 
 Saviour favored me with some tokens of his presence. O that 
 I could find words to express half his goodness, or my own vile- 
 ness ! I hope my faith received some increase. But what I 
 desire to praise my God for, is his wonderful goodness in as- 
 sisting me against pride. 
 
 " July 7. Still favored with the smiles of my blessed Lord. 
 Surely his loving kindness is better than life. How conde- 
 scendingly kind! I hope he is teaching me the value of 
 worldly applause, and how incompetent it is to afford happi- 
 ness. I have had enough to satisfy me, if there were any 
 satisfaction in it. But happiness is to be found in God 
 alone. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 55 
 
 " July 18. Very little comfort in prayer. Have fallen into 
 a sad, lifeless state the week past. Hope it will convince 
 me, more strongly than ever, of my weakness and vileness. 
 
 Sat up till 2 o'clock at night, talking with Mr. , on 
 
 religious 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 situ- 
 ation, and mourn over it, in some measure, but cannot escape. 
 
 " July 24. No life at all. O that it were with me as in 
 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 profit- 
 able 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 read- 
 ing Edwards on the Affections ; but obtained comfort and as- 
 surance 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 former- 
 ly 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 seemed determin- 
 ed, 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." 
 
56 IklEMOIR OF 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Retires to Rindge, and devotes himself exclusively/ to his prep^ 
 aration 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 re- 
 mained several days, " tossed about by contrary winds, and 
 wounded by the oaths and blasphemies of the wretches on 
 board." He has 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 confu- 
 sion, 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 for- 
 ward so it was, that he left the stage, and ^^ walked home 
 from Groton after six" in the evening, and was at his jour- 
 ney's end "about four the next morning," ready to "receive 
 the congratulations of his friends." His father's house con- 
 tinued, from this time, to be his hallowed and chosen retire- 
 ment, till he entered on the active duties of the ministry. 
 
 '^ Wisdom's self 
 Ofl seeks to sweet retired solitude j 
 Where, with her best nurse. Contemplation, 
 She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wing's." 
 
 This step, considered in all its aspects, may justly be re- 
 garded 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON 57 
 
 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* 
 to have read with care, might be named Watson's Tracts, Wit- 
 sius, 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 Com- 
 position 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, w^hich 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 re- 
 tirement has an intimate connexion with his subsequent emi- 
 nence and usefulness. 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. 
 
 This period of his history is memorable, and highly instruc- 
 tive to the student of theology. Having, after much delibera- 
 tion and prayer, chosen the ministry of reconciliation as the 
 business of his future life, he gave himself up to the work of 
 preparation with an exclusiveness and ardor perhaps never ex- 
 ceeded. From every study and pursuit, whatever its charms 
 and attractions, which was not directly subsidiary to his grand 
 design, he resolutely divorced himself, at least till he had 
 acquired the art analogous to the supposed properties of the 
 philosopher's stone ^^ of turning all to gold." He seems to 
 have concentrated and directed all his powers to the acquisi- 
 tion of scriptural 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, ^^ what- 
 
 * His progress in some of them is noted in his diary, near the ^^ hiatus " al- 
 ready 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. 
 
58 MEMOIR OF 
 
 ever his hand found to do he did with his might." These, his 
 permanent characteristics, were eminently conspicuous at this 
 period, while learning to 
 
 " neffotiale between God and man, 
 As God^s amBassador, the grand concerns 
 Of judgment and of mercy." 
 
 With the most exalted views of the holy office to which he was 
 looking forward, and of the qualifications requisite to its com- 
 petent and successful execution, he sought them with a pro- 
 portionate 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. Pay- 
 son 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 agree, or not, with Scripture, is to incur the hazard 
 of perpetuating error since a man's theory is more likely to 
 modify his views of the Scriptures, than 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 emi- 
 nent divines of our own and other countries, which were then 
 accessible, and which he is known to have read, had doubt- 
 less exerted some influence in forming his religious opinions ; 
 but he was obviously wedded to none. To none did he feel 
 the attachment of a partisan ; 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 con- 
 summate his reverence for the " sure word of prophecy," and 
 his confidence in Revelation, as an adequate foundation for 
 his faith, and an infallible guide in duty. 
 
 " Here is firm footing' all is sea besides." 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 59 
 
 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, al- 
 most 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 preach- 
 ing, 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 be able ' to give an answer to every 
 man who should ask a reason for it.'* 
 
 In this way he acquired his unparalleled readiness to meet 
 every question, on every occasion, whether proposed by a cav- 
 iller or a conscientious inquirer, which, it is well known, he 
 usually did in a manner as satisfactory as it often was unex- 
 pected. The advantages hence derived were, in his viev, 
 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 con- 
 found and silence gainsayers, when they could not be convin- 
 ced, as well as to build up the elect of God on their most holy 
 faith. It furnished him, too, with ten thousand forms of illus- 
 tration, or modes of conveying to ordinary minds the less ob- 
 vious truths, with which he was conversant in the exercise of 
 his ministry. He believed " all Scripture to be given by in- 
 spiration of God, and profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for 
 
 * 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 j 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 ac- 
 complishment. But he had lyiade 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." 
 
60 MEMOIR OF 
 
 correction, and for instruction in righteousness ;" and he was 
 himself a most 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 evi- 
 dence of a different nature fi'om that which has just been 
 given. Among his papers has been found a small manuscript 
 volume, containing " Notes" on most of the books of Scrip- 
 ture. 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, 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, to- 
 pography, natural history, ancient languages, are made to con- 
 tribute 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 suppos- 
 ed 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 Scrip- 
 tures ; 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, en- 
 titled " 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 excel- 
 lences with a dexterous and bountiful hand, and describes its 
 efficacy like one who ^ spoke that which he knew, and testified 
 that vv^hich 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, 
 
 * To what extent Dr. Payson was familiar with the original language of the 
 Old Testament, the writer is not informed. That it was amon^ the objects of 
 his attention at this time, there is evidence in his own hand-writing 5 but none 
 very conclusive that his acquaintance with Hebrew was minute and critical. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. (}1 
 
 not in matter only, but in the manner of exhibiting it, so 
 plain, that his hearers could not but see it, enforced by con- 
 siderations so reasonable and moving, that they must feel self- 
 condemned for rejecting it. They were not the cold abstrac- 
 tions of a speculative mind, but the doctrines which are ac- 
 cording to godliness, clothed in the fervid language which 
 affection dictates. They were not truths 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 ceas- 
 ing. Aware of the aberrations to which the human mind is 
 liable, he most earnestly sought the guidance and control of 
 the Holy Spirit. He felt safe nowhere but near the throne 
 of grace. He may be said to have studied theology on his 
 knees. Much of his time he spent literally prostrated, with 
 the Bible open before him, pleading the promises " I will 
 send the Comforter and when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, 
 he will guide you into all truth." He was especially jealous of 
 his own heart, and, to conquer its evil propensities, subjected 
 his body as weii as his mind to the severest discipline. No 
 man ever strove harder to " mortify the flesh, with the affec- 
 tions and lusts." It is almost incredible, what abstinence and 
 self-denial he voluntarily underwent, and what tasks he im- 
 posed on himself, that he might " bring every thought into 
 captivity to the obedience of Christ." He allowed himself only 
 a small part of the twenty-four hours for sleep* ; and his sea- 
 sons 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 thing, in short, which did not bind the con- 
 science often has his mother, or a favorite sister, stood at the 
 door of his chamber, with a little milk, or some other refresh- 
 ment equally simple, pleading in vain for admission. 
 
 * The following division and appropriation of his time was entered in his dia- 
 ry about five weeks after his return to his father's : 
 
 " Oct. 5. Resolved to devote, in future, twelve hours to study j two to de- 
 votion ; two to relaxation ; two to meals and family devotions ; and six to 
 sleep." But this did not long satisfy him. His rigid notions of duty led him to 
 subtract two hours from the six devoted to sleep, and to multiply his seasons 
 of fasting to a degree which the human system could not long have sustained. 
 A weekly fast, however, wajs habitual with him, from this time till his last sick- 
 ness. 
 
 6 
 
62 MExMOIR OF 
 
 The expediency or duty of such severe mortification turns 
 on the question of its necessity to the attainment of the object, 
 for which, in this instance, it was practised. If the 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 de- 
 voted 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 in- 
 dividuals, 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 determined piety, a more diffusive and effi- 
 cient benevolence. 
 
 Still the religion of Christ enjoins no needless austerities. 
 It has at times called, and may again call, for the sacrifice of 
 health, and life, and treasure ; for the renunciation of friends, 
 and home, and all its endearments. But in ordinary circum- 
 stances, * Godliness is profitable unto all things to the life 
 that now is, as well as that which is to come.' It did not re- 
 quire injurious excess of abstinence and mortification in one 
 situated as Mr. Payson was. He afterwards saw his error 
 not in fasting, but in fasting so long and lamented it. In 
 this matter, his mother was the wiser counsellor. What she 
 feared came upon him; the unhappy consequences to his 
 health were felt, it is believed, to his dying day. 
 
 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 
 
 * There are some distinguished laborers in the vineyard of our Lord, who 
 practise the essential duty here recommended, not so much by totally abstain- 
 mg 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 for biblical re- 
 search 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 ac- 
 count, 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. 63 
 
 the meaning of those passages which prescribed his personal 
 duty. When he read the strong language of Paul *' mortify 
 your members, that are upon the earth ;" and contemplated his 
 example " I keep under my body, and bring it into subjec- 
 tion ;" and desired above all things to be another such champi- 
 on of the cross ; his susceptible and ardent mind might have 
 imbibed views of duty, which needed to be corrected by another 
 remark of the same apostle '' bodily exercise profiteth little." 
 When attended with the expectation, however latent, that it 
 will purchase immunities, or merit heaven, so far from ^ profit- 
 ing' at all, it vitiates the act, rendering it not only useless, but 
 abominable. Such an expectation, however, was totally ab- 
 horrent to all Dr. Payson's views ; and its existence in the 
 faintest degree is not to be supposed on any other principles 
 than those which are common to men, whose deceitful hearts 
 practise innumerable impositions, unsuspected by their pos- 
 sessors. 
 
 If ''he who ruleth his spirit is greater than he who taketh 
 a city," the rigid discipline and government, to which Mr. Pay- 
 son subjected the passions of the mind, and the appetites of the 
 body, afford the most conclusive proof of his real greatness, as 
 well as of his decision and energy of character, and of his 
 unshaken adherence to his purposes. Ignorance and preju- 
 dice, under a show of superior discernment, will see in this 
 conduct the future "pope;" for prejudice, like malice, will re- 
 main 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- 
 ion of each man's conscience. He knew more 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 far- 
 ther from the contaminations of the world than other men, and 
 to have the habitual state of his affections more heavenly. 
 Moreover, he had an overwhelming sense of ministerial respon- 
 sibility, and looked forward to the office, not without hope in- 
 
64 MEMOIR OF 
 
 deed, but yet trembling for the results. Why then should he 
 not learn to * endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus 
 Christ V And yet thousands of nominal Christians will cen- 
 sure this severe regimen, as criminal, by whom he would have 
 been suffered to escape without animadversion, had he indulg- 
 ed 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 in- 
 struments for the peculiar service which he is preparing for 
 them. A great and arduous work was appointed for Mr. 
 Payson, as the event proved. And for that kind of prepara- 
 tion, which consists in fasting and communion with God, he 
 had the high example of the Jewish lawgiver, and of One 
 greater than Moses. Thus did Christ, our Exemplar, previous 
 to entering on his public ministry ; and also w hen 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 convic- 
 tions of duty, for the time being, than to make these convic- 
 tions 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 vows to any course of 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 thou- 
 sand changes which may take place in our circumstances, and 
 iti our relations with those beings, among whom God has plac- 
 ed us. In consequence of such changes, other duties may 
 have a paramount claim to those very hours ; and if our reso- 
 lutions are formed without an eye to such contingencies, they 
 may prove a snare to us. Disappointments will be unavoida- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 65 
 
 ble ; vexation and discouragement will ensue. It is not to be 
 presumed that Mr. Payson formed his purposes without refer- 
 ence to the vicissitudes of the human condition. Still, his 
 chagrin on failing sometimes to accomplish them, affords rea- 
 son 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 neces- 
 sarily prevented his executing it : 
 
 *^ Oct. 6. In great confusion this morning sister sick 
 father going a journey little time for prayer. Was so much 
 hindered in various ways, that I did not fulfil my twelve hours J* 
 
 From causes equally beyond his control, he often failed of 
 accomplishing all that he prescribed to himself Such were, 
 nevertheless, his most laborious days. When hindered and 
 diverted from his object, he would goad himself onward to ex- 
 traordinary exertion ; and when successful in executing his 
 plan, his satisfaction was exquisite. 
 
 The influence of habitual prayer upon his studies, was so 
 certain, and so operative, that the strength of his devotion 
 seems, for the most part, to have been the measure of his prog- 
 ress. By his very near approaches to the Father of lights, his 
 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 men- 
 tal operations. From them he derived, not light only, but heat. 
 Few requests were urged by him more constantly and ear- 
 nestly, than his petitions for assistance in study ; and not un- 
 frequently he records results similar to the following ** Was 
 much assisted in my studies this evening, so that, notwith- 
 standing 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 : 
 
 6* 
 
60 MEMOIR OF 
 
 " Sept. 23. Was quite dull and lifeless in prayer, and, in 
 consequence, had no success in study." 
 
 Sometimes even his " lively," fervent prayers w^ere not fol- 
 lowed by immediate returns ; but when the answer was grant- 
 ed, it brought with it a rich compensation for the extreme per- 
 plexity and distress, which the delay occasioned him : 
 
 ^^ March 4. Was entirely discouraged respecting my stud- 
 ies, and almost determined to give up in despair. But see the 
 goodness of God ! He enabled me to write a whole sermon, 
 besides reading a great deal ; and in the evening, was pleased 
 to lift up the light of his countenance upon me. O, how re- 
 freshing, strengthening, and animating are his smiles ! Hov/ 
 ravishing the contemplation of his holiness, love, wisdom, pow- 
 er and goodness ! He seemed to be a boundless ocean of love ; 
 and the sight caused my heart to expand with love to him and 
 all his creatures. O, how trifling do earthly beauties appear, 
 when he is pleased to unveil his face, and give a glimpse of 
 heaven ! His holiness is the chief glory of his nature." 
 
 But in nothing was his progress more rapid, than in self- 
 knowledge. Here whether success or disappointment crown- 
 ed his other pursuits he was continually extending his dis- 
 coveries. To those who are ignorant of " the plague of their 
 own heart," his confessions of sin must appear extravagant, 
 and his description of his heart, a picture having no original 
 save in an apostate spirit. He calls it '' a compound of every 
 thing bad." He likens it to the ' bottomless pit ; out of it 
 as soon as the door, with which the Holy Spirit covers it, is 
 opened by his absence a thick, noisome smoke arises, with a 
 tribe of hellish locusts, that devour the tender plants of grace, 
 and bring on a darkness which may be felt.' Now, he is 
 
 * crushed into the very dust by a recollection of the sins of his 
 youth ;' now, ' filled with distressing feelings, and loses all 
 iiope, that he shall ever be fit to preach ;' while these very feel- 
 ings 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 be- 
 fore 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 enu- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 67 
 
 meration, he is oppressed with ^ such a sense of his insignifi- 
 cance 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 exe- 
 cute 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, 
 kneeling with him before the mercy-seat, and interceding with 
 God for his salvation. He encountered a journey for the ex- 
 press purpose of visiting an early friend, of whose piety he had 
 once some hope, but who, he feared, had now become indif- 
 ferent to the one thing needful that he might know his state, 
 and encourage him to seek that good part, which could not be 
 taken from him. And so much were his benevolent feelings 
 drawn forth towards the inhabitants of his native town, that he 
 spared no suitable exertions for their spiritual good. A revival 
 of religion among them was the subject of fervent prayer ; and 
 in the same object he endeavored to enlist other Christians. He 
 procured, through the agency of his mother, the institution of 
 a weekly meeting of female members of the church, for united 
 prayer that the work of God might be revived. In short, so 
 far was he from being bound up in self, that he exerted him- 
 self for the good of others in such ways as were proper for 
 one in a state of pupilage. 
 
 Even in the most distressing parts of his experience, there 
 are discoverable those characteristics, which distinguish it 
 from the torturing convictions of the unrenewed soul. If he 
 is in " a sullen, stupid frame," it is not without " some melting 
 desires after God." If he is well nigh *' overcome by tempta- 
 tion," it is that he may ' rejoice the more at his deliverance, 
 when God gives him the victory.' If he is * discouraged be- 
 cause of the difficulties of the way, and the small progress 
 which he makes,' just as * all hope seems departing, the fire 
 burns within him.' Uniformly, his war is with himself, and 
 not with his God. And if to 2)rcvcnt the niglit-ioatches^ that 
 he might meditate in God's word ; if to love the habitation of 
 his house ^ and the place where his honor dwelleth ; if to ac- 
 count himself and all things else as nothing for Christ's sake ; 
 
68 MEMOIR OF 
 
 if to know in whom he has believed, and to draw near to him 
 in full assurance of failh ; if to be satisfied as with marrow 
 and fatness, while remembering God and meditating on him in 
 the night-watches ; if to prevent the daioning of the morning 
 by the cries of prayer ; if to prefer Jerusalem above one's 
 chief joy are scriptural marks of piety ; then is his placed 
 beyond suspicion. All these, and more, will be recognised in 
 the extracts from his journal, with which this chapter con- 
 cludes : 
 
 " 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. Never had my desires and affections so much drawn 
 out after God and holiness. Was filled with the gracious in- 
 fluences 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 astonish- 
 ed 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 bless- 
 ed day to my soul, that I ever experienced. God be praised ! 
 
 "Or^. 25. Was much depressed with a view of the nume- 
 rous 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 as- 
 sistance in family and secret prayer. Was enabled to drag 
 my sins to Christ, beseeching him to slay them for me. AS 
 terwards, enjoyed great sweetness in meditation. Was pre- 
 served, in some measure, from wandering thoughts at meet- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 6!) 
 
 ing. Had a profitable, though not a very happy time at com- 
 munion. After meeting, \^s 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 assist- 
 ed in prayer. Felt my dependence on God for strength. 
 Was surprisingly favored all day. Was in a sweet, humble 
 frame. I admired and loved the work, which Christ had 
 wrought in my heart by his Spirit, just as I should have ad- 
 mired 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 wste exalted far above principali- 
 ties 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. 
 
 "iVby. 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 1 could 
 do nothing without it, I endeavored to recollect and confess 
 my sins. I saw myself exceedingly vile, seemed the chief of 
 
 * Referring to an alternative, which might affect his temporal comfort mere- 
 ly, 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 usclessness and misery. It is, howev- 
 er, our shame, that the standard of personal piety should now render necessa- 
 ry an apology for such childlike simplicity in the devotions of a man of his ac- 
 knowledged magnanimity. In nothing does he appear more worthy of imita- 
 tion, than in his constant recognition of a Superintending Providence; and in 
 literally acknowledging God in all his ways. 
 
70 MEMOIR OF 
 
 sinners, to be worse than the evil spirits, and thought that the 
 lowest place in hell was my due. ^ * * * I felt the most ar- 
 dent 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 com- 
 fort 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 end!bled to plead with such earnest- 
 ness and submission before. My mouth was filled with argu- 
 ments, and I seemed to have both my Saviour and the blessed 
 Spirit go with me, and plead for me at the throne of grace. 
 Was favored with a clear view of my Saviour's beauty and ho- 
 liness, and of the scheme of salvation by him. What a glori- 
 ous design, and how worthy of its Author ! 
 
 " Dec. 1. Favored wuth an uncommon spirit of prayer. 
 Saw that, as a member of Christ, 1 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 hu- 
 mility, 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 
 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 71 
 
 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 mani- 
 fold transgressions, my sins against light and love, and confess- 
 ing them, I attempted to plead my Saviour's death and 
 righteousness, for pardon and reconciliation. I could not ob- 
 tain 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 exhaust- 
 ed 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 suffer- 
 ed. Was so overwhelmed wdth the view, that I could not, for 
 some time, shed a tear. O how hateful did sin appear ! 
 
 " Dec. 17. Was much assisted in writing on Christ's 
 passion. 
 
 '* J/i. 4, 1807. Was favored with a spirit of prayer be- 
 yond 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 1 usually find on occasions of fasting : but I had a 
 quiet, peaceful, resigned frame, and felt none of those repin- 
 ing 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 glo- 
 ry of heaven, as consisting in holiness, that I ever had. 
 
 " Jan. 29. Never felt such longings after God, or such a 
 desire to depart and be with Christ. My soul thirsted for 
 more full communion with my God and Saviour. I do not 
 now feel satisfied, as I used to, with the manifestations of the 
 divine presence, but still feel hungry and craving. 
 
 " Feh. 2. Was amazingly given up to wandering imagina- 
 tions. If I attempted to pray, in a moment my thoughts were 
 in the ends of the earth. If I attempted to read the Bible, eve- 
 ry 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. 
 
72 BIEMOIR OF 
 
 " 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 ab- 
 hor myself, and repent in dust and ashes. 
 
 " Feh. 28. Was favored with great enlargement in prayer. 
 Seemed to be carried out of myself into the presence of 
 God. 
 
 *^ March 2. Seem to be declining; am less grateful, less 
 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 Sa- 
 viour, I would think no more of preaching, but rather labor 
 for daily bread. 
 
 " 3Iarch 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. 
 T 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 
 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 afler 
 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 73 
 
 fervent and continual exercises of religion. It icill not he so 
 in heaven. 
 
 " March 26. Spent the day in fasting and prayer. Was 
 favored with near access to my heavenly Father, and a real- 
 izing sense of his perfections. O how sweetly was I enabled 
 to praise and admire his love and goodness in his works ! 
 
 ^^ March 31. Spent this day fasting, but not in prayer ; for 
 I could not put up a single petition. Was entirely deserted, 
 and was ready to say. Surely it is in vain to seek after God. 
 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 op 
 
 BROODING OVER OUR SINS. 
 
 ^^ April 14. Spent this day in fasting and prayer. Was 
 wholly deserted, except that I saw more of my natural deprav- 
 ity, and the consequent pollution of all my duties, than ever 
 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. 
 
 how infinitely glorious and lovely did God in Christ appear ! 
 
 1 saw, I felt, that God was mine, and I his, and was unspeak- 
 ably happy. Now, if ever, I enjoyed communion with God. 
 He 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." 
 
 7 
 
74 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 gos- 
 pel. His spirituality appears to have increased as that inter- 
 esting 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 mere- 
 ly, but with great dehberation, attended by a minute survey of 
 the relations of the creature to the Creator, and of the obliga- 
 tions recognised and assumed by such a consecration. Hap- 
 pily, 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 re- 
 quested 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 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 75 
 
 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 I might be favored with 
 ministerial qualifications. After this, I drew up the following 
 
 CONFESSION AND FORM OF COVENANT. 
 
 " O thou High and Holy One, that inhabitest eternity, whose 
 name alone is Jehovah, who art the one, great, eternal, ever- 
 blessed God, before whom angels bow and devils tremble, and 
 in whose sight all the nations of the earth are less than nothing 
 and vanity ! wilt thou graciously condescend, in thy sove- 
 reign 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 ! 
 
 " O Lord, I would come with a heart broken and contrite 
 for sin, acknowledging myself unworthy of the least of all thy 
 mercies, and deserving nothing at thine hand but everlastmg 
 banishment from thee and happiness. Encouraged by thine 
 own gracious promises, I would come, and, with humble con- 
 fidence, take hold on the hope set before me, even thine ever- 
 lasting 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, O my Father ; for I have sinned against 
 thee, and am exceeding vile ; vile beyond what language can 
 describe or thought conceive. My iniquities are gone over my 
 head ; they are increased even to the heavens ; they are infi- 
 nite in number, in degree and aggravation, and can be equal- 
 led only by thy mercies, which have been new every moment. 
 Thou, O God, hast given me life, and dost still preserve me 
 in existence. Thou hast given me faculties which render me 
 capable of knowing, serving, loving, worshipping, and enjoy- 
 ing 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 lefi: in darkness. Thou 
 hast placed me in that situation in life which is most favorable 
 to virtue, contentment, and happiness, and hast given me pa- 
 rents 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 im- 
 
76 MEMOIR OF 
 
 proving those faculties I have received from thee, and thus 
 rendering myself more fit to serve thee. But above all, O my 
 God, thou hast given me an interest in thy Son, and in all the 
 blessings he has purchased. Thou hast given me the Spirit 
 of adoption, whereby I am enabled to cry, Abba, Father. 
 Thou hast given me thy precious grace in this world, as an 
 earnest of glory in the next. Thou hast also loaded me with 
 daily and hourly m.ercies, more than I can number. Thou 
 hast kept me with more than parental care. Thou hast pre- 
 served 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 tempta- 
 tions, comforted me in afflictions, and defended me against 
 mighty and numberless enemies. Thou hast overwhelmed 
 me with thy mercies ; my cup runneth over. Thy goodness 
 and thy mercy have followed me all the days of my life. 
 
 ** Yet against all this goodness I have rebelled, have reward- 
 ed thee evil for good ; thy mercies have only aggravated my 
 guilt. O, my God, what have I done ! What madness, what 
 obstinacy, what ingratitude has possessed me ! My sins have 
 run parallel with thy mercies. I have struck and w^ounded 
 the hand that made me, fed me, preserved me. I have wast- 
 ed 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 brouglit forth in iniquity. My understanding is darkened 
 and alienated from the truth ; my will is stubborn and per- 
 verse ; my affections are corrupted and depraved ; and every 
 imagination of the 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 re- 
 ceive me, a poor, wretched prodigal, and didst cause thy won- 
 drous goodness and mercy to pass before me, I have still con- 
 tinued 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 77 
 
 in all things dealt very treacherously. How often have I mock- 
 ed 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 ! Hov/ little gratitude to thee, 
 blessed Saviour ! How often have I g ieved thee, O Holy 
 Spirit, by whom I am sealed to the day of redemption ! When 
 thou liftest upon me the light of thy countenance, I grow proud, 
 carnal, and secure ; and when thou leavest me in darkness, 
 when my own foolishness perverteth my way, then my proud 
 heart fretteth against thee, the Lord. All my duties are pollu- 
 ted with innumerable sins, and are as a leprous garment before 
 thee. And, after all thou hast done for me, I am still encom- 
 passed about with innumerable evils. Pride, unbelief, selfish- 
 ness, lust, anger, hatred, malice, revenge, bitterness, slothful- 
 ness, vanity, love of the world, ignorance, formality, hypocrisy, 
 and, with all these, self-conceit, are still the inhabitants, if not 
 the lords, of my heart. And, as thou, O Lord, knowest, these 
 are not the ten thousandth part of my sins and iniquities ; so 
 that I am the chief of sinners, and the least of all saints. * * * 
 
 " O wretched man that I am ! Who shall deliver me from 
 this body of death ? Vain, O Lord, thou knowest, are my 
 endeavors, and vain is the help of man. I have ruined myself, 
 and in thee alone, and in thy mercy, is my hope. 
 
 "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; 
 O let me not be ashamed. Let me plead before thee the mer- 
 its 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, O God, assist 
 me ; for in thee is my strength. 
 
 " Relying on this strength for support, and confessing myself 
 guilty of all these and innumerable other offences, and that I 
 deserve, in justice, nothing but the lowest hell, and renouncing 
 the destructive ways of sin, I do, with my whole heart and 
 soul, in a most serious, solemn, and deliberate manner, choose 
 
 and take the Lord Jehovah to be my God and Father, cheer- 
 
 7# 
 
78 MEMOIR OF 
 
 fully and joyfully renewing all my past engagements ; and, in 
 humble dependence on his grace, I engage to fear him, and 
 cleave to him in love. And I do, most freely, give up myself, 
 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, O most gracious and condescending God, accept this 
 offering of thy creature, who can give thee nothing but what 
 he has first received. 
 
 " With equal joy and readiness, and in the same serious 
 and solemn manner, do I choose and embrace the Lord Jesus 
 Christ to be my only Saviour. I take him in all his 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. 
 
 ''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 ? O my God, I w^ant 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, O 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 79 
 
 him, as my free act and deed ; and embraced Christ in it, as 
 the only ground of my hope. I then pleaded for all covenant- 
 ed blessings, and was favored with great fervency and enlarge- 
 ment in prayer. An indisposition, which attended me through 
 the day, rendered it less profitable than usual ; yet I have 
 abundant reason to bless God for the measure of assistance I 
 received. I felt the most longing, intense, and insatiable de- 
 sires after holiness, and to be employed in promoting the divine 
 glory. The world, with its applause, seemed nothing in com- 
 parison 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 now 
 recorded, and especially on the manner in which it was con- 
 ducted ; before he censures the vows, by which the covenan- 
 ter 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 con- 
 sidered 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. How- 
 ever solemn the act, that can be neither unreasonable nor im- 
 proper, 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 trem- 
 blingly alive to the danger of failing to perform our vows ; but 
 to withhold the offering, savors more of unbelief, of a self- 
 ish 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 hyper- 
 bole in such language ; and if it should meet the eyes of others, 
 they are referred for an explanation, so far as it can be appre- 
 ciated without Christian experience, to the seventh sermon in 
 the posthumous volume of his discourses. Even 'the natural 
 man' -may there 'discern' enough to acquit the author of incon- 
 sistency ; 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 
 Bins in terms which may be thought applicable to none but a 
 
80 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 look- 
 ed with disdain upon the meanest fellow-creature ; his * malice' 
 and * revenge* never inflicted actual injury ; and of any out- 
 breakings of the baser and more degrading passions, he 
 stands unindicted by all except himself Nor were these hu- 
 miliating confessions, this extraordinary self-abasement, made 
 to attract notice, and give himself importance in the eyes of 
 others one of the very v/orst and most odious forms in which 
 pride operates 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 him- 
 self 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 1 Here again he shall be his own interpreter. Let 
 those who are oppressed with this difficulty carefully read his ser- 
 mon, 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 ordi- 
 nation. 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 re- 
 covered 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 use- 
 less 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, bring- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 81 
 
 ing 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. 
 
 " May 3. Sacrament. Had considerable flow of affections, 
 but seemed to want clearness and spirituality. In the after- 
 noon, was more dead and trifling. So far as I can judge from 
 my feelings, have got little good by this opportunity. Felt 
 deeply oppressed with guilt after meeting, but could not mourn 
 over my sin, as I would fain have done, nor could I obtain any 
 sense of divine love. But after a short 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 pleas- 
 ed to 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 pleas- 
 ed 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 fi-uit of thy travail of soul. Renewed my covenant, and 
 gave up my whole soul, with all its powers, to God as my Fa- 
 ther, Christ as my Saviour, and the Holy Spirit as my Sancti- 
 fier. 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 even- 
 ing; but had some assistance. Was aided in writing, but 
 greatly oppressed with pride and vanity, which made their at- 
 tacks 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 j and 
 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 man- 
 ner Those, however, will, or ou^ht to be, the last to complain, who can re- 
 solve all the characteristic expressions and peculiar doctrines of the JBible into 
 *' strong eastern figures." 
 
82 MEMOIR OF 
 
 '* 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 di- 
 vine help more clearly than ever. Were I exposed to the 
 same temptations, I should lose all sense of divine things with- 
 out 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. ********* ^j^s 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 depress- 
 ed 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 ar- 
 rived 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 ad- 
 vice of my father, I promised to go. Retired, and cast my- 
 self upon the Lord for support, with a deep sense of my own 
 utter insuflSciency. 
 
 ** 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 my- 
 self 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 nature could support, or was capable of, 
 and this repeatedly during the day. 
 
 " May 14- Was very unwell, and apprehensive of a nervous 
 fever. Could not read the most amusing books without wea- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 83 
 
 riness and distraction ; and my body was so weak, that I could 
 exercise but very little. Yet, by divine goodness, was preserv- 
 ed 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 help- 
 ed to introduce religious conversation. 
 
 " May 16. Felt very lifeless in the morning ; but in se- 
 cret 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 holiness, 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 unspeak- 
 able 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 unspeaka- 
 ble 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 minis- 
 try, and assisted in it, vanished. In the evening, was over- 
 whelmed with a view of my remaining corruptions, and espe- 
 cially 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 un- 
 speakable relief in telling him all my sorrows and difficulties. 
 O, he is wonderfully, inconceivably gracious ! 
 
 " May 18. Had very little freedom or fervency. Was 
 perplexed with the scene before me, and could effect but 
 little. 
 
 " May 19. Went with my father to the Association, for the 
 purpose of receiving their approbation to preach the gospel. 
 Was exceedingly fatigued. 
 
 " May 20. Was examined and approbated. Was so weak 
 that I could scarcely stand; but was helped in some meas- 
 ure." 
 
84 MEMOIR OF 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 His first efforts as a preacher His religious character fur^ 
 ther 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 en- 
 grossed 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 overwhelm- 
 ed, 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 pre- 
 ceding 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 dis- 
 tinguished by no extraordinary strength of feelings. His own 
 account of them is thus expressed : 
 
 " May 24. Sab. Was favored with considerable fervency, 
 life, and sense of dependence, this morning. Endeavored to 
 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 after- 
 noon, did a little better, but still bad enough. Was very much 
 fatigued, and almost in a fever ; but enjoyed some comfort 
 after meeting." 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 85 
 
 His public engagements, important as he felt them to be, 
 did not divert his attention from his own heart. On the con- 
 trary, personal religion continued to be a primary concern. 
 Of this, as well as of the varied nature of his spiritual exer- 
 cises, there is an accumulation of evidence : 
 
 " May 28. Enjoyed a very unusual degree of sweetness 
 and fervor this morning. O, how precious did Christ appear 
 to my soul ! How I longed to be a pure flame of fire in his 
 service, to be all zeal, and love, and fervor ! With what grat- 
 itude did I look up to him, saying. Blessed Saviour, behold 
 how happy I am ! and to thee all my happiness is owing. But 
 for thee, I should now have been lifting up my eyes, being in 
 torments. O, what shall I render unto the Lord for all his ben- 
 efits ! 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 hap- 
 py 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 Sa- 
 viour'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 bestow- 
 ed ; and tha;t the praise of men was of no worth compared 
 with the approbation 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 * fi-equent recurrence of the 
 same temptation,' which costs him long and severe ' struggles, 
 before he is favored with complete victory.' This is followed 
 8 
 
g(3 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 * aston- 
 ished at his slow progress in religion.' Again, * pride and un- 
 belief begin to work, and render him miserable,' and for de- 
 fence against them he resorts * to prayer, pleading various 
 arguments for the space of an hour, before he is able to re- 
 press 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, * in- 
 stead 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 : 
 
 " Ju?ie 6. Had many sweet seasons of prayer during the 
 day, and was assisted in pleading for the presence of the Di- 
 vine Spirit to-morrow. 
 
 " June 8. Had great earnestness in secret prayer. Long- 
 ed 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- 
 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 re- 
 solved to spend it in fasting and prayer, for a supply of minis- 
 terial 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 unu- 
 sual fervency and perseverance in prayer, was enabled to con- 
 fess and mourn over my sins, and to mourn because I could 
 not mourn more, and w^as 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 87 
 
 and the success of Christ's kingdom. On the whole, it has 
 been a very profitable day to my soul, as, by divine goodness, 
 most, if not all, my fast days have been." 
 
 Four days after this, he experienced a most melancholy re- 
 verse, viewing himself as the * most vjle, loathsome, worthless 
 wretch in existence ; could only throw himself prostrate, and 
 utter the cry of the publican " God, be merciful to me a sin- 
 ner." ' The cause of this distress is unintentionally indicated. 
 He was " sick in bodi/ 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 reuiedy, but, I fear, to little 
 purpose. Was much assisted in preaching. My strength con- 
 tinued, 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. 
 
 ^^ June 16. Had no heart to confess my sins ; could find no 
 words which would do any thing towards it. Saw no hope 
 scarcely any possibility of being either happy or useful. Tried 
 all day to study, but could neither write nor read, and was 
 completely discouraged. It seemed as if I must give up 
 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 fu- 
 neral 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 
 
88 MEMOIR OF 
 
 liberty to pray. P. M. Went with fear and trembling to at- 
 tend 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 un- 
 well, 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 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 even- 
 ing, was overwhelmed with a sense of my own unworthiness. 
 O 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. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 89 
 
 " Jtine 29. Faint, yet pursuing, is a good motto for ine. 
 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. 
 
 ^\Tune 39. 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 compas- 
 sionate Saviour, and found relief O how gracious is our 
 God! 
 
 '^ July 5. Sab. 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 
 afternoon, was favored with great enlargement, both in prayer 
 and sermon. Felt a strong love for souls, and for the Lord 
 Jesus. Was weak and exhausted ; but, after resting awhile, 
 had a most sweet, refreshing, strengthening season in prayer. 
 Never before felt so much of the spirit of the gospel. Felt 
 like a pure flame of love towards God and man. Self seemed 
 to be almost swallowed up. Felt willing to go any where, or 
 be any thing, by which God could be glorified, and sinners 
 saved. Felt my hopes of being useful in the world strength- 
 ened. O how lovelyj how kind, how condescendingly gra- 
 cious, 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 sweet- 
 ness in continually lifting up my heart to God in fervent ejac- 
 ulations. In the evening, had such a view of the difficulties 
 in my way, and of my exceeding sinfulness, that I was ready 
 to sink ; but my blessed Saviour put forth his hand and caught 
 me. 
 
 ''July 7. Was harassed with wandering, gloomy, and dis- 
 tressing imaginations. Could not fix upon a text, and was 
 much perplexed what to do. Was overwhelmed with melan- 
 choly. P. M. Went to a funeral, and was favored with some 
 8* 
 
90 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 inter- 
 course. In a company of fellow-Christians, whose feelings 
 would rise responsive to his own, when the themes of a Sa- 
 viour'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 in- 
 fusing 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 without a degree of shrinking, that we fol- 
 low him in his sudden transition from scenes like these into 
 the very depths of distress awaking, the following morning, 
 ' weak, dejected, melancholy, regarding himself as useless in 
 the world, born only to sin, and abuse the mercies of his Sa- 
 viour 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 re- 
 frain, in the bitterness of his soul, from praying to be released 
 from the body !' In the debilitated state of his nervous sys- 
 tem, and in his impaired health, the reader will see di 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 sufficient- 
 ly discerning, even when its decisions could not summon to 
 his aid that relief for which he sighed ; for, in immediate con- 
 nexion 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." 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 91 
 
 In the mitigated forms of melancholy there is a soul-subdu- 
 ing power, which few are able to resist. It then loses its re- 
 pulsive character, and the soul of the witness is attracted and 
 melted into sympathy. A mind conscious of its misery, yet 
 retaining its balance, and surveying its own desolations with ' 
 unrepining submission, presents a spectacle of moral sublimity, 
 not surpassed by any thing which falls under human observa- 
 tion. This constitutes one of the charms of our Saviour's char- 
 acter, 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 
 understood as indicating a criminal dissatisfaction with life. 
 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 feel- 
 ings 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. Sab. 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 vile- 
 ness, instead of humbling me, as might be expected, only ex- 
 cited discouragement and unbelief; v/hile the manifestations 
 of God's love only make me proud and careless. My wretched 
 soul cleaves to the dust ! 
 
 " July 22. O, 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 
 
92 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 en- 
 abled 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 fasting and prayer, with thanksgiving. After confess- 
 ing and mourning over the sins of my past life, and contrasting 
 them with God's mercies, and offering up praise and thanks- 
 giving 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 espe- 
 cially 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 lodg- 
 ings. The night was passed without rest ; and of his increased 
 weakness in the morning ' Satan was suffered to take advan- 
 tao-e, and fill his mind with unutterable anguish.' But he 
 \fourid relief in prayer, and felt strengthened to go on with 
 fresh vigor in his Christian course, exclaiming O, 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 objec- 
 tions, prayed to be guided to the truth in this doctrine. Was 
 now convinced, beyond a doubt, that in me naturally dwelt no 
 good thing. O, how vile, how loathsome did my heart ap- 
 pear ! 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 religion before. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 93 
 
 ^^ Aug. 3. My blessed Saviour, compassionating my weak- 
 ness, was pleased to make me strong in himself, and to favor 
 me with a most refreshing season. Never felt so desirous to 
 depart 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 sub- 
 mitted the decision of the question to his Master in heaven, pray- 
 ing, 'that God would do with him as he pleased,- in this respect.' 
 
 ^' Aug. 5. Was greatly perplexed and distressed, yet tried 
 to keep myself in a quiet, waiting frame, but found great diffi- 
 culty in keeping out impatient, murmuring thoughts. Could 
 not determine whether my being thus deserted was to punish 
 me for my slothfulness and misimprovement of time, or only 
 for the trial of my faith and patience. My soul remembered 
 the bitterness and the gall which it had once before experi- 
 enced on a similar occasion, and shuddered at the idea of a 
 renewal." 
 
 Extracts might be multiplied, exhibiting him as ' sinking in 
 deep waters, where the floods overflow him,' and then again 
 * surprised with a sudden visit from his blessed Lord, full of 
 sweetness to his soul ;' his mind at one time so clogged in its 
 operations by his burdens, that he ' tried in vain to write ;' at 
 another, so buoyant, that, ' though almost confined to his bed, 
 he is enabled to write a whole sermon in a day.' This con- 
 trast is no where more strikingly marked than by the follow- 
 ing entry, after suffering from ' melancholy, which overwhelm- 
 ed him like a thousand mountains, so that his soul was crushed 
 under it :' 
 
 " Aug. 15. Rose in a sweet, tranquil, thankful frame, bless- 
 ing God for the storm of yesterday, and the calm to-day. O, 
 how great is his wisdom, how great his goodness ! Had faith 
 and freedom in prayer. Yesterday, I thought God himself 
 could hardly carry me through. But to-day O, how changed 1' ' 
 
 Before this, the reader may have expected to learn what 
 influence his secret devotions had on the services of the sanc- 
 tuary, also the result of his public labors in regard to the peo- 
 ple to whom he ministered. It is almost superfluous to add, 
 
 * " Nor love thy life, nor hate ; but what thou liv'st 
 Live well } how long or short, permit to heaven." 
 
94 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 v ariety 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. Pay son mentions among his trials, " well-meant, but inju- 
 dicious 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 preach- 
 ing, he was instrumental of individual conversions. More than 
 once he was allowed to record an event like the following 
 " Truly in faithfulness God afflicts me. Early this morning, a 
 young man came to me under deep distress of mind, and gave 
 pretty satisfactory evidence that he had experienced a real 
 change. He said he had received great benefit from my 
 preaching. This was a very seasonable cordial to my fainting 
 spirits." Such events caused him to * retire to his chamber j> 
 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 be 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. Pay- 
 son's greatness, and of his success. He laid hold on the di- 
 vine strength. Prayer, by which the creature communes with 
 God, and obtains grace to help in every time of need, was em- 
 inently the business of his life, and the medium through which 
 he derived inexhaustible supplies. It was not the stated morn- 
 ing and 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 ^ays " I beg you to 
 pray for me most earnestly and importunately. I seem to be 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 95 
 
 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 prom- 
 ised 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 exer- 
 cises, language and conduct received important modifications. 
 Subsequently to this time, there were, in his character, phe- 
 nomena to be accounted for ; and the causes, which it is impos- 
 sible wholly to suppress, may as well be fairly divulged as merely 
 insinuated and left for suspicion to magnify. Scoffers and re- 
 vilers 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 com- 
 plete barrier to its influence. With many, in fact, it is the 
 principal part of their religious discipline. The 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 1" 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 fanc}^ and a dream of woes j 
 
 Man is a harp, whose chords ehide 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." 
 
96 MEMOIR OF 
 
 And yet how barbarously is the state of mind, here described, 
 treated ! 
 
 ^' Tliis, 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 3 
 And such emollients as his friends could spare, 
 Friends such as his for modem 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 Ocik, 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 be- 
 lief Had the expressions already quoted, and which, in the 
 mouth of a cold calculator, would certainly indicate a disgust 
 with life, escaped Mr. Pay son at a later period, immediately 
 on some reverse in his prospects, by which 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 en- 
 tered on his profession, had matured no schemes of self-exal- 
 tation, was without a rival, and a mere sojourner, not knowing 
 whither his next remove would be, or where his ultimate des- 
 tination would place him. His pretensions were as modest, 
 and his expectations as humble, as those of any man in simi- 
 lar 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 cher- 
 ished wish ; on the contrary, they are the utterance of a mo- 
 mentary 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 for- 
 gotten, that his health was already undermined ; his system had 
 lost much of its elasticity, and encountered a shock, from the 
 effects of which it never afterwards recovered. Besides, he 
 had a constitutional predisposition to melancholy, which other 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 97 
 
 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 aggravat- 
 ing 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 
 from sinking. His distress, indeed, was often owing to in- 
 adequate causes, and his ' mind slow to receive the comfort' 
 which God is ever ready to bestow ; but if, with his own views 
 of the gospel, he was sometimes melancholy, with different 
 views he would have gone distracted. 
 
 These remarks are not intended as a defence, but as an im- 
 partial exhibition of facts. We are not concerned to approve 
 of every thing in Mr. Pay son'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 excellences 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 ow^n imprudences, he is to be blamed ; 
 and is, in a measure, responsible for the consequences. He did 
 not foresee them, it is true, but thought himself an exception 
 to a general law ; still he should have hearkened to the paren- 
 tal voice which warned him. He erred too if one may say 
 it without arrogance, whose pretensions to piety are as nothing 
 compared with his in looking too much to frames for the 
 evidences of his piety. He was too solicitous for sensible en- 
 joyment, and too much disturbed by its absence. Yet, however 
 deep his sadness at these times, he had not a settled melan- 
 choly. 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 exemp- 
 tion, and for this he was most severely chastised by the same 
 kind hand which so plentifully rewarded his fidelity. 
 
 There is, however, one aspect, in which all the hardships 
 that he imposed on himself, the ruin of his constitution by ab- 
 stinence, night vigils, and extraordinary exertion, and even all 
 his mental agonies, may be viewed with a feeling of entire 
 9 
 
98 MEMOIR OF 
 
 reconciliation. All these trying processes, to which he sub- 
 jected his mind, may justly be regarded as a series of experi- 
 ments 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 expense to himself; but it constituted one of his most im- 
 portant 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 every possible case of conscience, every form of 
 spiritual trial and delusion, to which either inquirers or estab- 
 lished Christians are exposed, that he could instantly recog- 
 nise their symptoms, and apply the needed antidote. 
 
 In all his revolutions of feeling, varied exercises, and chang- 
 ing frames, there is discoverable an unvarying simplicity of 
 purpose. The destruction of sin, and the extension of the 
 empire of holiness in himself and others, are the objects con- 
 stantly 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 com- 
 plains 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 dis- 
 lodge. L^t 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 unrelenting severity, they might find even greater abom- 
 inations, than any of which he complains, holding hitherto 
 undisturbed empire over their souls ; and not, as in him, an- 
 noying, 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 engage- 
 ment 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 J^ He here expresses, not an opinion merely, but a 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 99 
 
 fact. Popular as he deservedly was, his preaching was not 
 regarded with favor by the church in North Andover, which 
 had been left destitute by the death of Dr. Synimes. Wheth- 
 er it were owing to their preference, or his, or to a special 
 providence, he tarried there but one Sabbath, and his next re- 
 move was to the scene of his future labors a field vastly more 
 extensive, and one which he was eminently fitted to occupy. 
 
100 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 medita- 
 tions on the road, and praying and renewing his covenant with 
 God at his resting places. Stop w^here he might, he was sure 
 to find or to make the place a Bethel ; and while the solemni- 
 ty of his devotions resembled that of the patriarch's on his way 
 to Padan-aram, his faith realized what that patriarch saw in vis- 
 ion, 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 fi-iends, 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 suffi- 
 cient advantage to compensate me for the time and expense. 
 My health seems wonderfully improved ; I enjoy sound, re- 
 freshing sleep, which I have not for two months before; and 
 I feel strong and able to study. Nor shall I derive less advan- 
 tage, in another point of view, from this tour. Mr. Kellogg 
 tells me, that he had heard in Boston", that I was rapidly gain- 
 ing the title and reputation of a Hopkinsian ; and that a great 
 part of his plan, in getting me here, was to counteract that re- 
 port, and, with the assistance of Mrs. K., to make something of 
 me, to use his own expression. However this may be, he seems 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 101 
 
 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 
 acquaintance, 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, 1 have reason to think, will, in some measure, 
 produce the designed effect." 
 
 Mr. Payson entered upon the appropriate duties of his call- 
 ing with the most exemplary diligence and energy, and the 
 effects were almost immediately visible. Such was the atten- 
 tion 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 renew- 
 ed 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 renew- 
 ing 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 R.t 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 over- 
 whelmed to see how much I have in my heart. Could hardly 
 refrain from despairing of ever being humble." 
 9* 
 
102 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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. O, if God by his Spirit did not 
 j)revent me, and still in a manner force me to keep striving 
 jilmost against my will, I should give up in despair. It makes 
 no difference let me labor ever so much, and feel ever so 
 lively while alone, the moment I go into the pulpit, or a con- 
 ference 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 al- 
 ways 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 1 
 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 
 dangerous. His reception as a preacher was flattering almost 
 beyond example. Not one man in a thousand can bear hum.an 
 applause uninjured. "Wo unto you," said Christ to his dis- 
 ciples, "when all men shall speak well of you." The most 
 dreadful part of this wo is that which falls upon one^s spirit- 
 ual 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 w^as 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 al- 
 lusions 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 103 
 
 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. 
 'JThe people seem to rouse themselves up, and stare, and hard- 
 ly know what to make of it. They, however, appear to exhib- 
 it less enmity and ill-will than I expected. Some of the prin- 
 cipal 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 preach- 
 ing 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 remark- 
 ably favored. One memorable instance, which has lately 
 taken place, I have just heard. Three females, the wives of 
 three sea-captains who were all at sea in different parts of the 
 world, were deeply impressed, and, after severe convictions, 
 obtained comfort. Just about the same time, all their absent 
 husbands were converted at sea. The wives, meanwhile, 
 were anxious for the spiritual welfare of their husbands, and 
 the husbands were no less concerned for their wives. Judge 
 what a happy meeting they must have had when they 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. 
 
 " I have been ill a week of the influenza, which attacked 
 me pretty severely. It seems as if it v/as 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 ab- 
 sence. 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 
 
104 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 put- 
 ting 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. 
 
 " I sometimes think it strange, 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 incorpo- 
 rated 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 the society on that condition, and thirty more had 
 oifered to subscribe for pews. On Tuesday, I had an invita- 
 tion from Westboro' to come immediately, 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 alter- 
 nately. 
 
 " Now, my dear parents, what shall I do ? I am so m.uch 
 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 105 
 
 the Spirit, as a voice behind him, saying, ^ This is the way, 
 walk in it,' it seems duty would be easily discovered. 1 
 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 can- 
 not 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. My dear father, do write to me." 
 
 The following sentences from his diary will be regarded 
 as a curiosity by those who are acquainted with Dr. Payson's 
 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 Mr. Payson from the great object of the ministry of 
 reconciliation. If his desire for personal holiness was ex- 
 ceeded by any other, it was by the desire of the salvation of 
 sinners. 
 
 " Sept. 27. Sab. Was favored with great and unusual as- 
 sistance both parts of the day, and the people were remarkably 
 serious and attentive. Came home overwhelmed with a sense 
 of the astonishing goodness of God. Felt grateful, humble, 
 and contrite, and was enabled to ascribe all the glory to God. 
 In the evening, was favored with great faith and fervency in 
 prayer. It seemed as if God would deny me nothing, and I 
 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 eifect. Was favored with the greatest degree of free- 
 dom and fervency in interceding for others. I seemed to 
 travail in birth with poor sinners, and could not help hoping 
 that God is about to do something for his glory and the good 
 of souls. 
 
 " Sept. 29. Was considerably affected with a view of the 
 awful condition of sinners, and was favored with some freedom 
 in praying for them. I know not what to think, but at pres- 
 ent 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. 
 
106 MEMOIR OF 
 
 " 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 se-\ 
 cret 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 
 lecture, and was left dry and barren. In the evening, preach- 
 ed another, and was very greatly assisted. Came home hum- 
 bled in the dust under some stirrings of spiritual pride, which 
 I could not repress. Was favored with a most refreshing sea- 
 son in secret prayer. Felt that love which casteth out fear, 
 and hung on the bosom of my God with inexpressible pleasure. 
 The Scriptures too were exceedingly sweet. Had been in 
 some perplexity respecting the; path of duty ; but was helped 
 to roll the whole burden upon Him. 
 
 " Oct. 9. Was visited by a minister who heard me preach 
 last evening, and received many valuable hints from him re- 
 specting my feelings in prayer and preaching. 
 
 " Oct. 11. Never was in such an agony before in wres- 
 tling 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 de- 
 sires for their salvation. Went by invitation to spend the 
 evening in an irreligious family. Found several assembled, 
 and, to my very great but pleasing surprise, the conversation 
 took a very serious, religious turn. Came home hoping that 
 God was on the point of doing something in this place, but 
 was so worn out, that I had little life in prayer. 
 
 " Oct. 16. Church meeting a profitable and refreshing 
 time. Some new persons are awakened ; Christians are stir- 
 red up, and there is every reason to hope God is on the point 
 of appearing for us. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 107 
 
 *' Oct. 17. Was enabled, in some measure, to mourn over 
 my pride and selfishness, unbelief, and hardness of heart. 
 Having last evening proposed to the church that we should 
 spend an hour this evening in prayer, separately, for the out- 
 pouring of the Spirit, attempted to pray, but feared my mo- 
 tives 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 en- 
 treated him to overrule all things to his own glory. 
 
 " Oct. 19. Spent the whole day in conversing with per- 
 sons exercised in their minds. In the evening, visited and 
 prayed with a number of persons, who met for that purpose. 
 
 " 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 as- 
 sisted 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 re- 
 joicing. 
 
 " Oct. 22. Began to feel more clear respecting my com- 
 pliance 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 gra- 
 ciously pleased to touch my heart, and bring me on my knees 
 before him, and thus I obtained pardon. In the evening, at- 
 tended 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 re- 
 jected 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 even- 
 ing, was visited by persons under concern of mind, and con- 
 versed with them. 
 
 " Oct. 27. In the evening, attended a conference, and 
 preached to a crowded and solemn audience. Saw the hand 
 of God evidently appearing in it, and came home strengthen- 
 ed, though I had gone much cast down. 
 
108 MEMOIR OF 
 
 *' Oct. 28. Felt some gratitude and humility this morning. 
 Wondered how God could choose such a worthless wretch to 
 bestow such favors upon. Dined with * * *, a lawyer, and 
 had much religious conversation with him, with which he 
 seemed much affected. In the evening, met a number who 
 were under serious impressions. Conversed and prayed with 
 theni. 
 
 " Oct. 29. Was greatly drawn out in prayer for a continu- 
 ance of God's presence, and for myself and some particular 
 friends. Spent the day in visiting a number of persons who 
 were under concern, and found that some who had been dear 
 to my heart, and who I could hardly hope were under convic- 
 tion, appeared to have met with a real change. Was over- 
 whelmed 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 distract- 
 ed 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 fa- 
 ther'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 to accept the 
 call of Mr. Kellogg's parish. Rejoiced to see my path made 
 plain before me." 
 
 " Nov. 6. Parted from my friends with prayer, and set out 
 for Portsmouth in a violent storm, which continued most of 
 the day. Was harassed with storms within, part of the way, 
 but afterwards was calm. 
 
 " Nov. 8. Was favored with a most sweet, refreshing sea- 
 son, before meeting, in secret prayer. Preached three times, 
 the last to a crowded and solemn assembly. Was invited to 
 stay and preach on probation, but was obliged to decline. 
 
 ''Nov. 9. Rode to Portland. Was favored on the road 
 with very clear manifestations of God's love. Felt most ar- 
 dent emotions of gratitude, with full resolutions to devote my- 
 self 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 impor- 
 tance of the gospel ministry, and of my own utter insufficiency 
 for it. Was ready to sink under it, till in some measure re- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 109 
 
 lieved 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 confer- 
 ence, and preached. Divine truth, though in an humble garb, 
 came with great power, and the hearers seemed much affected. 
 After coming home, heard of some difficulty, made by one of 
 the church 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 suffer to h(j 
 taken from him. 
 
 ^^ Nov. 30. Very unwell. From some symptoms, feel ap- 
 prehensive 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 di- 
 vine goodness, was kept patient, and even cheerful. Was very 
 sick in the morning. 
 
 ^^ Dec. 3. Still quite unwell, but had a sight of my neces- 
 sities, and was helped to cry out for assistance. P. M. Had 
 a sweet season in prayer. Could pray sincerely, that others 
 might be exalted above me in gifts and graces, and that souls 
 might be converted, let who would be the instrument. Felt 
 weaned from the world, and resigned to whatever might befall 
 me. 
 
 " Dec 4. Extremely weak. Am convinced that I cannot 
 live many years, if many months. Went out to see a sick 
 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 
 magnitude 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. 
 
 " Dec. 10. Was seized with the symptoms of a fever. 
 
 " Dec. 11. Begin to think seriously that my time is short. 
 My lungs appear to be deeply affected, and the result may be 
 fatal. 
 
 '^ Dec. 12. Had a melting season in prayer this morning. 
 Felt viler than the vilest. Spent the evening with my father, 
 who came to attend the ordination. 
 10 
 
110 MEMOIR OF 
 
 " Dec. 14. My body and mind seemed alike weak and in- 
 capable of exertion. My cough increases, and bids fair to 
 terminate in a consumption. 
 
 " Dec. 15. Rose extremely unwell, and continued so dur- 
 ing 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 qual- 
 ifications ; 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 suscep- 
 tible, 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., undoubt- 
 edly, had a further design in procuring his assistance, even 
 from the first ; but its accomplishment was suspended on cir- 
 cumstances 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 valua- 
 ble services, which he showed himself willing to do at the ex- 
 pense of any reasonable sacrifice. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 1 1 1 
 
 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 recog- 
 nised in the extracts that have been given, it is not to be pre- 
 sumed 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 fellow- 
 ship with such doctrines, and that he abstained, in his minis- 
 terial intercourse, from all official acts, which would be inter- 
 preted 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 he partaker of other men^s sins, and well illustrated the 
 apostle's * caution against introducing persons suddenly into 
 the ministry, and the reason with which that caution is en- 
 forced.' Some portions of it seem to have been almost pro- 
 phetic ; they show, at least, that the author was ' able to discern 
 the signs of the time.' The paragraphs containing the appli- 
 cation 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 com- 
 mend 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-ope- 
 rate 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 fa- 
 vored 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 being admitted to share in the glory of that work 
 which is all his own ! This, however, is not the hour of tri- 
 umph. Your feelings, I hope, accord with that maxim of wis- 
 dom " Let not him who girdeth on the harness boast him- 
 self as he that putteth it off." Under the wise and holy gov- 
 
112 MEMOIR OF 
 
 ernment of God, no station or office confers honor, but in con- 
 nexion 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. To be admitted into the 
 number of his ministers, is honorable for this reason only, that, 
 we are thus brought into the field, where the highest honor is 
 to be won ; where all the virtuous feelings of the heart have 
 full play ; and where an opportunity is afforded of bringing 
 into action all the energies of the soul, in a service most inti- 
 mately 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 pre- 
 cept and example. Every motive which can influence the hu- 
 man mind prompts you to fidelity ; and, for your encouragement 
 to go boldly forward in the line of duty, almighty love opens 
 its inexhaustible stores of wisdom, grace, and strength, invit- 
 ing you to drav/ near and receive according to your necessi- 
 ties. The object of the observations, which have now been 
 made, is to impress you with a sense of the importance of in- 
 vestigating, so far as human imperfection will admit, the char- 
 acters and qualifications of candidates for the ministerial office. 
 To me this subject appears of vast, and, from the character of 
 the age in which we live, of increasing importance. It is far 
 from being my wish to see you contending for particular forms 
 of expressing divine truth, or zealously engaged in supporting 
 points, respecting which, through remaining imperfection, 
 wise and good men are divided. This is far beneath the dig- 
 nified object, which ought to engage the attention of the Chris- 
 tian 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 
 invested, in raising the enemies of God and his truth to the 
 pernicious 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, disinter- 
 ested aflfections, 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 perseve* 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 113 
 
 ranee, with which the children of this world pursue its pleas- 
 ures, 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 fil- 
 ial 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, incre.ased fondness. But to 
 see you losing sight of the great objects which ought to en- 
 gage your attention, courting the applause of the world, infect- 
 ed with the infidel sentiments of the day, and neglecting the 
 immortal interests of those now about to be committed to your 
 care ; this, O my son, I could not support. It would bring 
 down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. But is it possi- 
 ble, 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 un- 
 faithful ? It is possible ; for there is nothing too base, too un- 
 grateful, 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 awful fate be the theme of our future eternal praises. 
 
 " Contemplating the sublimity of the apostolic pattern, do 
 you ask, How shall I attain to such activity, such zeal, such 
 purity, such disinterestedness, and ardor of affection ? Remem- 
 ber Paul was nothing. He himself makes the confession. " It 
 is not I," says he, " that live, but Christ, that liveth in me ; 
 and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by faith on 
 the Son of 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 hap- 
 py 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. Re- 
 ceive, my dear son, in one word, the sum of all a father's fond 
 wishes : " Be thou faithful unto death." 
 10* 
 
I J 4 MEMOIR OF 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 His concern for his floch reverse in his temporal prospects 
 is taken from his work hy 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 recog- 
 nise 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 harmoni- 
 ous and happy family. Though they do not obliterate the 
 distinctions of rank and office, and especially that of a teacher, 
 tliey instruct ' the head not to say to the foot, I have no need 
 of thee.' In the church of Christ, the m.ost closely-compacted 
 and endearing brotherhood which exists on earth, a common, 
 fraternal affection is reciprocated by its members an affec- 
 tion growing out of, and continually cherished by, their mutual 
 dependence, their common wants, and the sameness of their 
 relation to their Maker and Redeemer. In addition to this, 
 there is, in this blood-bought and sacred society, the relation 
 of pastor and flock, which swells the aggregate of benefit re- 
 ceived and of happiness enjoyed, in proportion to the numbers 
 included in it. And when this relation is entered into from 
 evangelical motives, and with a right spirit, a gushing forth 
 of the affections is felt, which was never felt before a well- 
 spring is opened, which time cannot dry up, and which ren- 
 ders the pastor's labor and toil, for the salvation of his charge, 
 his choice and his felicity. Mr. Pay son had already exhibited 
 an interest in the welfare of souls, and a desire for their salva- 
 tion, 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 an appropriating, an 
 endearing love, which identified their interests and happiness 
 with his own. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 115 
 
 ** Dec. 17. Was favored with freedom and assistance in 
 writing and prayer, and felt a strong love for the people of my 
 charge. In the evening, attended a meeting of those who are 
 under concern, and had some assistance. 
 
 ^' Dec. 18. Felt in a sweet, dependent frame, and had lib- 
 erty to cast myself and parish upon God. 
 
 *' Dec. 19. Awoke twice, after a day of excessive fatigue, 
 drenched in a profuse sweat, and concluded that my time was 
 short. 
 
 " Dec. 20. Sab. Extremely weak. Felt as if I 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 reli- 
 gion. 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 or- 
 dination, he expectorated blood, and " viewed it as his death- 
 warrant, but felt tolerably calm and resigned." Three days 
 later, however, he is found preaching an eveniffg lecture. 
 
 The calamities occasioned by the aggressions of foreign 
 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 mer- 
 chants, 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 sympa- 
 thy. To him, the town seemed threatened with universal 
 bankruptcy ; and, whether with good reason or not, he con- 
 sidered 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 
 
116 MEMOIR OP 
 
 and efforts Was to turn the distresses of the people to their 
 spiritual advantage, rightly judging, that "the walls of Jerusa- 
 lem might be built in troublous times." A picture of these 
 distresses, as they appeared to him at the time, is drawn in a 
 letter to his parents, dated 
 
 " Portland, Dec. 28, 1807. 
 
 ^' When father was here, he observed that hiy prospects were 
 almost too happy for this world. They were so, it appears ; 
 for they are now as unfavorable, humanly speaking, as they 
 were then flattering. The prospect of war has produced here 
 such a scene of wretchedness as I never before witnessed. A 
 large number of the most 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 meas- 
 ure, 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 cour- 
 tesy of creditors for a protection from the inclemency of the 
 season. These things, however, are but the beginning of 
 
 sorrows. As soon as the news of these failures reach , 
 
 every man there, who has a hundred dollars owing to him in 
 Portland, will send down to secure it ; and the general stag- 
 nation of busmess 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 scarce- 
 ly a hope of receiving more than enough to pay my board, if 
 I should stay till next spring ; and Mr. K. will want all his 
 salary to support himself, as he fears that all his property is 
 swallowed up in the general destruction. These failures have 
 brought to light many instances of dishonesty among those in 
 whose integrity unbounded confidence was placed. And now 
 all confidence is lost ; no man will trust his neighbor ; but 
 every one takes even his brother ' by the throat, saying. Pay 
 me that thou owest.' But I cannot describe, and I doubt 
 whether you can conceive, of the distress we are in. 
 
 " And now you will, perhaps, be grieved at this sudden blast 
 of all my fine prospects, and cry, * Poor Edward 1' But you 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 117 
 
 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, appa- 
 rently, 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 
 aiford me the same degree of support which he has hitherto, I 
 shall be more happy than ever I was. I thought I knew, be- 
 fore, that this world was treacherous, and its enjoyments tran- 
 sitory ; but these things have taught me this truth so much 
 plainer, and weaned me so much more from creature depen- 
 dences, that I desire to consider them among my chief mer- 
 cies. It has long been my prayer, that if God had any world- 
 ly blessings in store for me, he would be pleased to give me 
 grace instead of them, or change them into spiritual blessings ; 
 and now he begins to grant my 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 judgments 
 upon her, and I desire to take what falls to my share, and bless 
 God that my punishment is no heavier, and no more propor- 
 tioned to my deserts. But nothing seems too bad to expect 
 from present appearances. If we escape civil war, it will be 
 well. 
 
 '' January 5, 1808. 
 " I would not finish my letter before, because I could 
 
 say nothing favorable respecting my health, which was then 
 worse than ever, but, blessed be God, seems now unaccounta- 
 bly 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 
 
118 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 evening, preached to a serious audience, and was great- 
 ly encouraged to hope for a reformation more general. Was 
 much drawn out in prayer, both at meeting and after 1 came 
 home. 
 
 ^^ Jan. 6. Hope that God is quickening me to run the way 
 of his commandments with a more enlarged heart. 
 
 ^^ Jan. 10^ Preached, and baptized seven persons, and ad- 
 ministered the sacrament. Felt entirely exhausted. My con- 
 stitution seems to be much broken, and a little labor 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 par- 
 don I have received, more thankful. 
 
 ^^ Jan. 17. Sab. 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 afi:er- 
 noon, preached with some liberty. 
 
 '^ Jan. 22. In the evening, preached, and was much re- 
 freshed and strengthened in my own soul. Found the Lord's 
 work is going on. O what shall I render unto the Lord for 
 all his benefits ! 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 119 
 
 ^^ Jan. 24. Sab. Was favored with a sweet season in plead- 
 ing for the divine presence. Hoped that God would make this 
 a day of his power and grace. Was greatly assisted. Have 
 lately been favored with more love to God, and zeal for Christ, 
 than I used to have, and feel more compassion for sinners. 
 
 '^Jan. 25. Seem to have some respite from the workings 
 of corruption. Spent the day in visiting my people, and found 
 many somewhat exercised. In the evening, attended a confer- 
 ence with inquirers. Found some new cases, and had a 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 con- 
 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 affec- 
 tion, which rendered speaking a most painful and difficult ex- 
 ercise. 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 par- 
 tially 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 convers- 
 ing 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 vio- 
 lence.' When his conversation with inquirers was not pro- 
 longed 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 re- 
 ferred the matter to me, I should refer it back again to him. 
 My only wish was if I lived to live unto the Lord ; and, if 
 I died, to die unto the Lord." 
 
 In the latter part of February, his physician found it neces- 
 sary to forbid his preaching for several Sabbaths to come, and 
 was in a measure successful in enforcing the prohibition, as 
 his patient does not appear to have gone out to any religious 
 
120 MEMOIR OF 
 
 meeting for more than a fortnight, when he ventured to * at- 
 tend a conference with those under concern, where he found 
 several new inquirers, and was carried through beyond expec- 
 tation.' But the exposure was followed by a dangerous relapse, 
 so that he thought his " health irrecoverably gone." He ex- 
 presses 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 : 
 
 " March 26. Had an exceedingly painful night, worse than 
 ever, but had some satisfaction in thinking of going to be with 
 Christ. In the evening, was extremely unwell, and suffered 
 great pain. 
 
 '' 31arch 27. Sab. In the morning, was very ill; but was 
 carried to meeting in the afternoon, though I could not preach. 
 Was too weak to have much comfort at meeting, and came 
 home very low-spirited. 
 
 '^ March 28. Am pretty well convinced that my disease is 
 mortal. My mind partakes so much of the weakness of my 
 body, that I can do nothing in religion, and can scarcely refrain 
 from peevishness and fretting. 
 
 ^^ March SO. 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 respect- 
 ing me, and was willing to depart and be with him. 
 
 '^ Aprils. Conversed with some persons, who came in to 
 see me, respecting means to be taken for the suppression of 
 profanity and Sabbath breaking. 
 
 '' April o. Sab. Was able to attend meeting and preach 
 part of the day. Was favored with some liberty at the sacra- 
 ment, and had some foretaste of heaven, and desire to enjoy it. 
 Am much afraid the reformation is going off. Was assisted 
 to pray that the work might go on, and also in praying for 
 myself, so that I hope the Lord has been pleased to strengthen 
 me on this occasion. 
 
 " April 4. Had unusual earnestness in prayer this morning, 
 both for myself and others, and was sweetly melted in reading 
 the divine word. Was depressed by finding that the town 
 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. 
 
 ^^Aprill. This day being our annual fast, I endeavored 
 to humble myself before God for my personal sins, as well as 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 121 
 
 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 began may be carried on gloriously 
 and triumphantly among us. In the morning, attended meet- 
 ing, and heard a most excellent sermon from Mr. K. In the 
 afternoon, preached with some degree of assistance. 
 
 *' Aprils. Had a very uncomfortable night, but was sweet- 
 ly refreshed and strengthened in secret prayer this morning. 
 It is long since I have found so m.uch 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 be- 
 ing qualified. 
 
 " April 14. Attended a conference for those under con- 
 cern, and was refreshed to see a goodly number, and to trace 
 the operations of the divine Spirit upon their minds. 
 
 " April 15. Was so oppressed with a sense of vileness, that 
 it seemed impossible for me to come ; and had such a sight of 
 God's goodness, that it was impossible for me not to come. 
 
 '^ April 19. O, how sweet and refreshing it is to get above 
 the load of sins, sorrows, and corruptions, which oppress us, 
 and taste a little of communion with God ! 
 
 " April 20. Was strengthened with all might in the inner 
 man, and enabled to renew covenant with God with great joy 
 and sincerity. 
 
 " April 21. I have long been in a lethargy, but I trust God 
 is now bringing me out of it. Find great and unusual sweet- 
 ness in the Bible, of late, for which I have long been praying ; 
 and likewise a deeper sense of the importance of time, anoth- 
 er 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 glori- 
 fied, either by my life or death. 
 
 '^ April 23. Was assisted in prayer through the day. My 
 heart seemed ready to break with its longings after holiness. 
 Found unusual sweetness in reading the Scriptures. Am much 
 11 
 
122 MEMOIR OF 
 
 encouraged by the Lord's unusual goodness to me, that* he is 
 about to carry on his work still more gloriously in this place. 
 
 " Ajpril 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 ex- 
 pected ; but it proved too much for me, and I have not preach- 
 ed 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 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 
 w411 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 v/ant 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 con- 
 clude, 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 V 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 in- 
 finite 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 astonish- 
 ment to see how good he will be notwithstanding all I can do 
 to prevent it. O, how true it is, that he will have mercy on 
 whom he will have mercy ! I can hardly help praying, some- 
 times, that he would take away all he has bestowed, so that, 
 if I must sin, I need not sin against such overwhelming good- 
 ness. But it is as natural for him to be good and kind, as it is 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 123 
 
 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 man- 
 ner of mischief; and I fear they will lose all habits of industry 
 and sobriety. However, if I have any health, we shall en- 
 deavor 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 allevia- 
 ted, 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 wished 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 Belov- 
 ed, 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 perform- 
 ing the work allotted, and drag on a wearisome life to no pur- 
 pose ? It was my great consolation, while taken off from ac- 
 tive 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 of our depravity, that when God favors us 
 with special mercies, he sees it necessary to send special afflic- 
 tions, to teach us our dependence and keep us humble. Could 
 I have continued suitably humble and thankful under the mer- 
 cies I have lately received with respect to my settlement here, 
 and the out-pourings of the Spirit, he never would have frustra- 
 ted, first, my temporal prospects, and afterwards, by sickness, 
 as it were cast me out of his vineyard, as an unworthy and an 
 
124 MEMOIR OF 
 
 unfaithful 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 modera- 
 tion, so that I must either be totally indiflferent to worldly ob- 
 jects, 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 happi- 
 ness ; 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 u wife too much or too little. I 
 know not, however, whether I ought to regret this trait in 
 my character, since, by cutting me off from other sources, it 
 does, as it were, necessarily drive me to One whom I cannot 
 love or serve too much, and compel me to place all my hopes 
 in a future state. 
 
 Since you complain that I did not tell you what my sickness 
 has been, I will now inform you, lest you should suppose it 
 worse than it was. It was an inflammation of the lungs and ad- 
 joining 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 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 sacra- 
 ment, 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 difficultv, but was then constrained 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. X25 
 
 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 fi-om 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 trick 
 In making- known how oft 1 have been sick.' 
 
 But if your patience is wearied, you must ascribe it to your 
 own request, without which I should not have said a syllable 
 on the subject." 
 
 The " inflammation," he observes in another letter, " was 
 brought on, by speaking in hot rooms, and then going out into 
 the cold evening air." His illness proved, on the whole, a seri- 
 ous one ; and he was obliged not only to suspend preaching, 
 but to leave the scene of his labors, before he could obtain 
 relief On the 27th of April, he set out for his father's house, 
 to try the effect of a journey and a country residence on his 
 health. * In crossing a stream, whose bridge had been carried 
 away, he was thrown from his horse, and thoroughly wet, so 
 that he could proceed no farther.' The next day, ' after rid- 
 ing about ten miles, he was seized with the symptoms of a vio- 
 lent fever, and obliged to stop, and take his bed.' The third 
 day, he pursued his journey moderately, but * in much pain and 
 weakness, fearing that his lungs had been much injured by his 
 late accident.' Before night of the fourth day, he * was ex- 
 tremely 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 with my journey." 
 
 For several days afl:er 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." 
 11 * 
 
126 MEMOIR OF 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Resumes his pastoral labors Letters Review of the year, 
 
 Mr. Pays on' s absence from his people was prolonged to a 
 period of more than two months. During this time, he un- 
 derwent 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 fast- 
 ing and prayer on his account during his absence. He set 
 out on his return to them, July 4th, not without *' gloomy, mel- 
 ancholy fears. The work appeared great, the obstacles insur- 
 mountable, and his strength nothing." Most of the informa- 
 tion, 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 C, 1808. 
 "My dearest Parents, 
 
 " When you see where and when this letter is dated, you 
 will, I fear, be ready to exclaim, " 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, 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. 
 
 '^ Tliursday Morn. 
 
 "The crowd of anxious and interesting thoughts which en-^ 
 gaged my mind on my return would not suffer me to rest 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 127 
 
 much last night, and of course I feel rather languid this morn- 
 ing. 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 convic- 
 tions 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 dun- 
 geon 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, well-looking man, as far removed as possible from the 
 idea one is ready to form of a murderer. He said he felt guil- 
 ty and self-condemned before God, and felt the need of a Sa- 
 viour, 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. 
 
 ^' Friday. 
 
 " I have been trying the effect of sea-bathing. It was not 
 a very favorable time, but I feel better for it, and shall repeat 
 it daily. I have spent some time in going round among the 
 people. They appear glad to see me ; but, alas ! I fear there 
 are no hopes of any further reformation at present. Many, 
 whom I left under deep concern, have lost all their impres- 
 sions ; 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 sick- 
 ness, my mind seems to have lost, at once, ail faith and forti- 
 tude. I have no assistance in writing. My ideas are all con- 
 fused. I seem to have no power to get hold of people's con- 
 
128 MEMOIR OF 
 
 sciences, 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 
 scon ; 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 be- 
 lieve, 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 leav- 
 ing home, since I first began to venture abroad, than when I 
 left Rindge for Portland. I rode in a very melancholy mood 
 all day, and seldom have I felt more unpleasantly. This, you 
 will say, was but an ungrateful return to my heavenly Father, 
 for his goodness ; but, though I felt sensible that it was, I could 
 not alter the 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 experi- 
 enced from parental and sisterly affection at home. The diffi- 
 culties, too, of the ministry, were all before me. Like Peter, 
 I looked only at the waves and billows, forgetting the almigh- 
 ty 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 discour- 
 ages 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 
 1 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" never fails to bring 
 relief, even in the darkest hours. In addition to this, I find 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 129 
 
 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 imiprove rapidly, and I am almost 
 perfectly well. Mr. R. preaches here next Sabbath, on an ex- 
 change v/ith Mr. K., who goes to administer the sacrament at 
 Gorham. He is much liked ; they are, I believe, unanimous, 
 or nearly so, in his favor, and would settle him 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 cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 " July2\. 
 
 ^' I mentioned, 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 diffi- 
 culties in my breast ; but I am so oppressed with melancholy 
 that life is a burthen. I was to have preached a sermon at 
 the execution I have just mentioned ; and, though I did not 
 feel able to write, I endeavored to force myself to it. But a 
 melancholy mind will not be forced, and I found, that, if I did 
 not desist, I should be distracted. On the other hand, the idea 
 that such an opportunity of doing good should be lost, drove 
 me back to fresh endeavors. The misery I have endured for 
 three days is inconceivable, and has made me quite sick. It 
 seemed as if I would willingly have been hanged in his place, 
 rather than feel as I did. I can more easily believe that all 
 other things work together for good, than that melancholy 
 does. It appears to be full of evil, and to be productive of no 
 manner of good either to myself or others. But it shall not 
 cause you any more uneasiness at present, for I will bid you 
 adieu, till I am in better humor. Remember me to all 
 friends ; ask my father and mother to write to and pray for me. 
 I would give up preaching, if I dared ; but " wo is me, if I 
 
130 MEMOIR OF 
 
 preach not the gospel." Farewell and may you never know, 
 by experience, the present feelings of 
 
 " Your affectionate, though unhappy brother." 
 
 ^'Portland, August 3; 1808. 
 "My dearest Parents. 
 
 " I 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 ; but, lest you should im- 
 pute 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 weath- 
 ers, 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 melan- 
 choly 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 attempt- 
 ed to show, that, by nature, man is, in stupidity and insensi- 
 bility, 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 lectme, last evening, in the 
 meeting-house, which was much more crowded than any we 
 ever had before. However, our fears are, as yet, much greater 
 than our hopes. 
 
 " Mr. K. is like to lose his youngest child, and his oldest is 
 quite sick. He is also slandered and abused beyond all meas- 
 ure. Yet he bears all these trials in a manner which is sur- 
 prising. 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 remem- 
 bered with lively impression by some of the hearers, whose ac- 
 count of its effects amply sustains his own description. In the 
 course of the following week, there might be heard one man 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 131 
 
 hailing another in the street as " brother devil !" This, com- 
 ing to Mr. Pay son's ears, so far from being regarded as a cir- 
 cumstance 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 '^ nat- 
 ural 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, might 
 have been productive of none but evil consequences. And yet 
 some young, rash, ignorant ministers will be more emulous to 
 copy this, than any other trait in his preaching. After letting 
 off a volley of harsh, impertinent, bitter, and extravagant epi- 
 thets, with a heart as callous as that which they describe, they 
 will flatter themselves that they have been signally faithful, and 
 are "just like Dr. Payson !" But they mistake his character, 
 as well as their own. His severest expressions 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 be- 
 nevolence aimed the blow. 
 
 " August 10. 
 " I have just received your letter, my dear mother, and will 
 now put an end to mine, which a press of duty had 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 com- 
 fort 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 opened to revile, and Christians, instead of supporting me, 
 seem to think that it will not do to tell the whole truth, lest 
 the world Siiould 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 hap- 
 piness prepared for them, than be told plainly how defective 
 
132 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 crea- 
 tures they are, and smile all the time. 
 
 " However, there are some who make these complaints in a 
 different manner, and who appear really to groan under a body 
 of sin and death. One person, who was esteemed by Mr. K. 
 and the whole church, and by 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-heart- 
 ed, and, in short, to be every thing we could wish, has discov- 
 ered that she was building on the sand. She had been a pro- 
 fessor 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 profit- 
 able, 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 was 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 upon 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 sacra- 
 ment, catechised the children, and spent the evening in con- 
 versation ; and yet, instead of being laid up, as I feared, I am 
 full as well, if not better, than before. Things still remain 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 133 
 
 pretty much as they were. A great many seem to be some- 
 what 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 lost their con- 
 victions, 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 quiet- 
 ness proceeds from mere stupidity, or from a conviction of the 
 truth, I know not. The church seem to feel the general dead- 
 ness ; and, as to myself, I seem palsied to all good, though 
 pride, or selfishness, or habit, still keeps me in motion. I have 
 had far more distressing experience of the dreadful depravity 
 of my nature, since I left home, than ever before. O the 
 heights and depths, the lengths and breadths, of wickedness, 
 in the depraved heart ! If complaining to man was of service, 
 what a torrent of complaint could I pour out ! But it will not 
 avail. 
 
 " Sept. 14. 
 
 " Mr. C, a young gentleman of independent fortune, is now 
 preaching in the old parish. He has been studying divinity 
 in Scotland, and preaches the doctrines of the gospel in a 
 clear, distinguishing manner. As his sentiments were known 
 before he came, every thing 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 re- 
 turn, 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 the workings of his mind in his hours of discouragement, 
 12 
 
134 MEMOIR OF 
 
 as well as of those considerations by which he was assisted to 
 rise above it. It will be read with thrilling interest : 
 
 *' Portland, Oc^ 25, 1808. 
 "My dearest Mother, 
 
 " I have just received your letter of the 19th, and, like all 
 your letters, it came just in the right time, when I needed it 
 most, when I was sinking, fainting under discouragements 
 and difficulties. I feel the force of all you say. I know I 
 have every reason in the world to feel grateful ; but this knowl- 
 edge 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 hum- 
 ble 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 remem- 
 ber 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, * * * 
 * * * though I see, as clear as the light of day, how devilish, 
 and cowardly, and base, and ungrateful, such a temper is. I 
 loathe and detest 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 whirlwind. 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 de- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 135 
 
 caying, 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. Not- 
 withstanding he combined almost every advantage, such as 
 being independent in property, eloquent, polished in his man- 
 ners, &/C. &c., he had only thirty /br, 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 sure- 
 ly should never have been a minister. I should give up now, 
 but, whenever I think of it, something seems to say, * What 
 are you going to give up for 1 Supposing you are a poor, mis- 
 erable, blind, weak, stupid worm of the dust, with mountains 
 of opposition before you, is that any reason for discourager 
 ment 1 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 1 Has he not already helped you beyond all you 
 dared ask or think ; and has not he promised to help you in 
 future 1 What then would you, poor, weak, stupid, cowardly 
 fool, have more ? what do you keep murmuring about all the 
 time ? Why don't you glory in your infirmities, that the power 
 of Christ may rest upon you?' To all this 1 can answer^ noth- 
 ing, 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 have been, but am as well as 
 when I left home, and might have been better, if I could learn 
 any prudence." 
 
 His filial love suffered no abatement in consequence of his 
 growing years and increased cares. How eager he was to 
 relieve a father's burdened spirit, will be seen in the following 
 letter of condolence : 
 
136 MEMOIR OF 
 
 ^' Portland, November 13, 1808. 
 "My dearest Father, 
 
 " Yours of the 1st inst. I received yesterday, and its con- 
 tents 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, 
 &LC. ; on account of som.e who are afflicted with various trou- 
 bles ; 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 Phy- 
 sician 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 suffi- 
 cient to support the soid 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 incorrup- 
 tible, undefiled, and which fadeth not away ? and that neither 
 death, nor life, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things pres- 
 ent, nor things to come, shall ever be able to separate you 
 from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus your Lord ? 
 Is it not comfort sufficient to satisfy even the boundless de- 
 sires of an immortal mind, to know that you are a temple of 
 the Holy Ghost, a m.ember 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 
 
 * He refers to a young female domestic, who set fire to his father's house. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 137 
 
 already stood on Mount Zion, singing the praises of redeem- 
 ing 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, my dear father, I dare not write thus, 
 for you know these things already ; and you have doubtless 
 spiritual trials, of which 1 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 satisfp.ction to reflect, that to 
 you and my mother I shall be indebted, under God, for ever- 
 lasting felicity ; and that, if I am made the instrument of do- 
 ing any good in the world, it will be owijag to your prayers, pre- 
 cepts, and example ? My dear father, how many have all 
 your trials, and none of your comforts no God to go to, no re- 
 ligion to support them, no hopes of heaven, no divine consola- 
 tions, 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 inten- 
 tion 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 must wait some time, and I knew 
 not how to wait a single day, without expressing my sorrow 
 for your new troubles, though unable to remove them. 
 
 " 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 week- 
 ly, besides a monthly fast. The young converts, as yet, 
 promise fair." 
 
 12* 
 
138 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 proposi- 
 tions, that, " to those who are saved, the preaching of the gos- 
 pel 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 feel- 
 ing, his ordination vows, and the changes by death and other- 
 wise, 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 sufficient ; for not the hearers, 
 but the doers of the word shall be justified. 
 
 *' Permit m.e, 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 pro- 
 claimed. And we would ask you, most seriously and affec- 
 tionately, 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 139 
 
 neglect to perform it. A flood of waters, or a deluge of fire, 
 is comparatively a blessing. There are, doubtless, many such 
 triflers here, who fully resolve, at some future time, to repent 
 and believe the gospel. But on what are your hopes founded ? 
 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 store- 
 house of spiritual medicines has been thrown open for your re- 
 lief ; but your moral diseases, instead of being healed, have be- 
 come 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 Phy- 
 sician 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 warn- 
 ing 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 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 in- 
 evitably 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 peo- 
 ple, that they are in the broad road to destruction, and to urge 
 and entreat them to turn aside and be happy. Many of them 
 hear our entreaties with some degree of attention and regard. 
 They engage our affections by kind offices ; we labor with 
 them, tell them they are deeply rooted in our hearts and affec- 
 tions ; 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, disappoint- 
 ment, and distress, what is ? The agonies of a patriot, trem- 
 bling for his country of a wife, watching an expiring husband 
 or of a mother, trembling for a diseased child are nothing 
 to those which he must feel, who knows the worth of an im- 
 
140 MEMOIR OF 
 
 mortal soul, who considers what it is to be lost, and yet sees 
 his people perishing before him. 
 
 " O, my friends, my dear friends ! how do our spirits droop, 
 and our hearts sicken with anguish and despair, when we con- 
 sider, that, notwithstanding all we can do, many here present 
 will finally find the gospel a savor of death unto death ! and 
 all our exertions will answer no other purpose than to increase, 
 beyond conception, their misery and guilt ! O, 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. O, if there be any avenue to conviction, tell us 
 where it lies. Tell, O tell us, how we may draw, or drive, or 
 lead you to Christ. Tell us how we may bribe you not to be 
 miserable forever. Almost are we ready to say with the apos- 
 tle we could even wish ourselves accursed from Christ for 
 our people, our friends according to the flesh." 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 141 
 
 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-contin- 
 ued and intense private devotion ; and in preaching it, he " had 
 much assistance, and m.any were in tears." He looked for- 
 ward through the year to come with the same prayerful so- 
 lemnity, 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 Thurs- 
 day 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 
 v/eather, and the state of my health ; which was a great dis- 
 appointment." 
 
 It was Mr. Payson's uniform, if not invariable practice, to 
 use a written serm.on 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 dis- 
 tressed, when engaged in pronouncing a discourse, unaccom- 
 panied with a consciousness of such assistance ; and propor- 
 
142 MEMOIR OF 
 
 tionately grateful when favored with it. A single extract will 
 exhibit his feelings on this subject : 
 
 -" Sabbath. Preached without the least apparent assist- 
 
 ance. 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 over- 
 whelmed 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 pecu- 
 liar to him, but common as it probably is in a degree to 
 every evangelical minister, the knowledge of the fact may, per- 
 haps, 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 view^s of the matchless good- 
 ness of Christ, and my own vileness. Was so overwhelmed 
 and astonished, that he should again look u^on me with favor, 
 that I could scarce believe it possible. Seemed to be drawn 
 aw^ay 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 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 sea- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 143 
 
 son in secret prayer. Spent the day in visiting. In the even- 
 ing, felt the worth of souls lie with peculiar weight upon my 
 mind, and was enabled to wrestle fervently for divine influence. 
 " J/i. 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 em- 
 ploy 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 re- 
 moved 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 ser- 
 vices 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 in the heart of every private Christian a responsibility 
 which all ^ 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 pray- 
 ers, 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 impor- 
 tance of the duty justified his special exertions to secure its per- 
 
144 MEMOIR OF 
 
 formance, 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 estabhsh among 
 us what are called " Aaron and Hur societies," i. e. little col- 
 lections of four, five, or more persons, to meet before service 
 on Sabbath morning, and spend an hour in praying for a bless- 
 ing 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 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 to 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 ^ud strength- 
 en me as it ought. Truly the righteous scarcely%.re 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 asham- 
 ed, and Mr. K. is like a father to me in every thing. But, 
 instead of feeling grateful, and being able to glorify God for his 
 goodness, I am so overwhelmed with temptations, that I can 
 do nothing but sit still and tremble, lest they hurry me into 
 some open sin, which will bring dishonor on the cross. O, my 
 dearest mother, do pity me, and pray for me ; for I am sifted 
 like wheat." 
 
 The customs of society often render a minister's presence 
 unavoidable on public occasions or celebrations of a nature 
 not easily defined, but which are of a mixed character, partly 
 secular, and partly religious. But Mr. Payson would never 
 
EDWARD PAYiSON. 145 
 
 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 enter- 
 taining speaker. Those whom he addressed, whatever the 
 occasion, were reminded that they were probationers for eter- 
 nity. Very pleasing evidence of this has been found in some 
 copious remnants of a performance, which, in March of this 
 year, he addressed to a Musical Society. Who would look for 
 a proof of the existence and perfections of God on such an oc- 
 casion ? for a history of the apostasy of angels of the fall and 
 recovery of man and of the ultimate destination and employ- 
 ment 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 fur- 
 nished 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, 
 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 mu- 
 sic, 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, fly- 
 ing, 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 scep- 
 tre to take up his harp, and exchanging the titles of victor 
 and king for the more honorable title of the sweet Psalmist of 
 
 Israel But I appear not before you as her advocate ; 
 
 for in that character my exertions would be superfluous. She 
 is present to speak for herself, and assert her own claims to 
 our notice and approbation. You have heard her voice in the 
 performances of this evening ; and those of you, whom the God 
 of nature has favored with a capacity of feeling and understand- 
 ing her eloquent language, will, I trust, acknowledge 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 
 13 
 
146 MEMOHi OF 
 
 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 seri- 
 ous 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 har- 
 mony 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 malig- 
 nant being these miracles of goodness ? Could they have caused 
 this admirable fitness between harmony of sounds, and the or- 
 gans of sense by which it is perceived ? No. They would 
 have either given us no senses, or left them imperfect, or ren- 
 dered every sound discordant and harsh. With the utmost 
 propriety, therefore, may Jehovah ask, Who hath made man's 
 moutli, 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 ser- 
 vice, and employed in celebrating his praises. To urge you 
 diligently and cheerfully to gerform 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, with- 
 out 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 J ^ Ps. civ. 33. 
 
 He then carries his hearers back to the origin of the world, 
 when " every thing was very good," and " all creation harmon- 
 ized together. All its parts, animate and inanimate, like the 
 voices and instruments of a well regulated concert, helped to 
 compose a perfect and beautiful whole ; and so exquisite was 
 the harmony thus produced, that in the whole compass of crea- 
 tion, not one jarring or discordant note was heard, even by the 
 
 perfect ear of God himself The blessed angels of light 
 
 began the universal chorus, * when the morning stars sang to- 
 gether, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.' " He describes 
 '' the music of the spheres" the part which the heavenly bodies 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 147 
 
 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 t]v.< universal concert, man was appointed the terres- 
 trial leader, ond was furnished with natural and moral powers, 
 admirably fitted for this blessed and glorious employment. 
 His body, r-xempt from dissolution, disease, and decay, was 
 like a 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 Creator ; but all the emotions felt by the one were ex- 
 pressed by the other, from the high notes of ecstatic admira- 
 tion, 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 reechoed 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 con- 
 trast which followed, when sin " untuned the tongues of an-v^|g 
 gels, and changed their blissful songs of praise into the groan^M 
 of wretchedness, the execrations of malignity, the blasphemies 
 of impiety, and the ravings of despair. Storms and tempests, 
 
148 MEMOIR OF 
 
 earthquakes and convulsions, fire fi^om above, and deluges from 
 beneath, which destroyed the order of the natural world, prov- 
 ed that its baleful influence had reached our earth, and afford- 
 ed a faint emblem of the jars and disorders which sin had in- 
 troduced into the moral system. Man's corporeal part, that 
 lyre 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, un- 
 strung, and almost irreparably ruined. His soul, all whose 
 powers and faculties, like the chords of an ^olian 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 insensi- 
 ble 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, in- 
 stead of uniting in the song of * Glory to God in the highest,' 
 was now at variance with the voices around it, and, in barba- 
 rous and dissonant strains, sung praise to itself, or was em- 
 ployed 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 vio- 
 lence 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 ot 
 war, together with the wailings of those whom it had rendered 
 v/idows 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 quar- 
 ter 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 cre- 
 ation, joined with tenfold transports in singing glory to God 
 in the highest, that there was again on earth peace and good 
 will to men, and that the vacancy which sin had occasioned 
 among the choirs and armies of heaven would soon be filled 
 by individuals selected from the human race, and taught to 
 sing the song of the Lamb, by the influences of the Spirit of 
 harmony himself To teach mankind this sacred song, and 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 149 
 
 thus prepare them 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 revolu- 
 tions, 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 impor- 
 tance of piety in singers, especially such as lead in this part 
 of worship, and enforces the duty of parents to cultivate musi- 
 cal talents in their children. " Were this duty duly perform.- 
 ed, from proper motives, we should soon see a sight which 
 was perhaps never seen on earth, a whole assembly employ- 
 ed 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 hearer^ 
 forward to the time when " every tongue in the assembly will 
 be employed in praising or blaspheming every individual be 
 an angel or a demon." 
 
 There is a luxuriance in his style, at the time of writing 
 this address, which was considerably chastened in later years. 
 Taken as a whole, the performance, w^hile 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 occa- 
 sion speak with force to the consciences of men. 
 
 Bodily infirmity continued still to cramp and repress his en- 
 ergies, and he h^d already " been assured by his physician, that 
 his complaints were mortal." 
 
 ^^ April 26. Was excessively weak, so that I could do 
 nothing to any purpose. Longed to lay my feeble body in the 
 grave, where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary 
 are at rest ; not that I was weary of God's service, if I could 
 serve him with more strength and sincerity ; but my mind 
 sunk under the weakness of my body." 
 
 '' Portland, May 11, 1809. 
 
 " The Spirit seems still to accompany the word among 
 
 us, and the attention to religion is rather increasing. Several 
 13* 
 
150 MEMOIR OF 
 
 new instances of conviction have occurred lately, which now 
 bid fair to be abiding. * * * 
 
 '' We have, this year, twenty tithingmen, instead of ten last 
 year, and none the year before ; and are in a fair way to have 
 the town reformed, at least externally. Several of the most 
 conspicuous leaders in the race of pleasure and fashion have 
 lately become more serious, and we are hoping their example 
 will be followed by others. The grand jury, also, begin to 
 perform their duty, in presenting parishes that have no preach- 
 ing, and shutting up tippling shops and bad houses. We are, 
 tlierefore, encouraged to hope that God, by thus removing 
 some of our external spots and pollutions, is preparing the way 
 for 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 con- 
 tinues 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 neigh- 
 boring town ; but new trials awaited him, which put the in- 
 tegrity of his principles to the severest test. With reference 
 to an overture, which he could not meet without sacrificing, 
 in his own view, his Master's honor, he observes, it was made, 
 *' hoping, no doubt, either to stop my mouth, as ^Eneas did 
 that of old Cerberus, with this honey-cake, or, at least, to dis- 
 cover from my answer how I meant to conduct." He was re- 
 markably 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 compromited. 
 
 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 animad- 
 version, and is not, even now, " lost in silence, and forgot." 
 Justice to his memory, therefore, requires that the grounds 
 upon which he proceeded should be known. The first refer- 
 ence 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 151 
 
 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 candi- 
 date, and knew what were the sentiments he intended to in- 
 culcate." After stating the deacon's reply, expressing his 
 confidence in the sentiments and character of the man, the 
 letter 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. How 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 noth- 
 ing before the time." No other course would have been equally 
 proper and scriptural. His principles of conduct, in this case, 
 will bear the strictest scrutiny. Later still, he thus adverts to 
 the subject : 
 
 " The ordination is just at hand, and engrosses universal 
 attention in town. The candidate is a fine scholar, has an 
 
 amiable disposition, and has treated me in that frank, 
 
 open, friendly manner, which is just calculated to win me over 
 to his side. Add to this, that both his society and mine are 
 anxious that the old enmity between the two parishes may now 
 be done away, since two young men are placed over them. 
 But I hope I shall be able to act as duty requires." 
 
 Here, certainly, was a combination of motives, powerful be- 
 yond all others, to influence a man situated as he was. Noth- 
 ing, which he could do, would have so immediately raised him 
 in the popular estimation, as to have approved and taken part 
 in the ordination. The excellent general character, and dis- 
 tinguished 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 
 w^ith 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 
 
]52 MEMOIR OF 
 
 he forgotten the caution, which, in circumstances of peculiar 
 solemnity, had been enforced upon him respecting the exer- 
 cise of one of the most important prerogatives conferred by his 
 commission. The result of the examination, and of a compar- 
 ison, in this instance, of what was developed with the requisi- 
 tions 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 con- 
 science, 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 al- 
 ludes 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 ^ false- 
 ly, /br Chrisfs 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 be- 
 tween the two churches." 
 
 Time, instead of reversing, has confirmed the correctness 
 of his decision. The difference 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, 1809. 
 "My dearest Mother, 
 
 " You judged right with respect to my anxiety to hear from 
 home ; for after the first of your letters, giving an account of 
 my father's illness, arrived, I could scarcely rest till the arrival 
 of the other ; and had it not been for the approaching ordina- 
 tion, 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 153 
 
 desist; especially after the admonitions he has given me on 
 that subject. He would see and allow, with respect to any 
 other 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 lan- 
 guage 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 conse- 
 quence may be. 
 
 " June 7. 
 
 " My health continues to mend, though slowly. I get over 
 the fatigue of preaching much sooner than I did, and my food 
 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 
 other faults, carries its own punishment with it. I am at pres- 
 ent, unless greatly deceived, in the worst part of the Christian 
 race. My people love me, but I cannot enjoy their kindness, 
 lest, instead of rendering me thankful, it should only feed pride. 
 I can take no pleasure in any success that attends my labors 
 for similar reasons. I am surrounded with blessings more than 
 I should have dared to hope for ; but this accursed sin turns 
 them all to poison and bitterness. Were it not for this, how 
 happy might I be ! But, blessed be God, this shows me, more 
 and more clearly, what an evil and bitter thing it is to forsake 
 the Lord of Hosts." 
 
 '' Portland, August 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 
 
154 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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. How- 
 ever, so long as God is pleased to carry on his work with such 
 discourses, I 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 noth- 
 ing, to rejoice to be nothing, that God may be all in 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 reach- 
 ing 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 inter- 
 est as our interest, and pursue it accordingly, how happy 
 should we be ! And how happy shall we be in that world, 
 where this will be the case, and where the very stump of that 
 Dagon, self, will not be permitted to remain in our hearts, as 
 the rival of our blessed Redeemer. O, to be holy as God is 
 holy this is to be happy, according to our measure, as God is 
 happy. Strive then, my dear, dear sister, strive, wrestle, pray, 
 long and pant after holiness. If I cannot be holy myself, yet 
 I long to see others holy. If I cannot love and praise the ever- 
 blessed Redeemer, it is almost heaven sufficient to see him 
 loved and praised by others. If we could render to him ac- 
 cording 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 much the faster do our obliga- 
 tions increase. And yet, instead of praising him, we are con- 
 stantly 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 pardon- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 155 
 
 ing ; 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 hum- 
 ble 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, ex- 
 postulating, 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 likp me, and were justice done upon them, 
 surely they would be sentenced to some hell more dreadful 
 than that which is prepared for others. 
 
 " 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 commun- 
 ion, we admitted eleven to the church, and next Sabbath we 
 shall admit twelve more. The appetite for hearing seems 
 insatiable, and our assemblies are more crowded than ever. 
 Many have lately joined us. However, the gospel proves a 
 savor of death unto death, as well as of life unto life. Many 
 seem to be awfully hardened, and many severe reflections are 
 cast upon religion and its professors. ' 
 
 "After telling you that religion thus flourishes among us, I 
 am ashamed to complain ; for what reason of complaint can a 
 minister have, while he sees the cause of Christ triumphant ? 
 Nor do I complain of any thing 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 burthen lightened. At times too, I am " holpen with 
 a little help," so that, though cast down, I am not utterly de- 
 stroyed. But how desperate, how inconceivable, must be the 
 wickedness of that heart, which draws down such sufferings 
 
156 MEMOIR OF 
 
 from the hand of the compassionate Saviour, and requires such 
 
 painful remedies to heal it.'' 
 
 "Portland, Nov. I, 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 jour- 
 ney this season ; and my engagements are such, that I know 
 not how to be absent a single day. In the first place, the sit- 
 uation of the parish requires my presence. The people still 
 have a hearing ear, but there is more opposition, more at- 
 tempts to mislead young converts, and turn aside inquirers, 
 than formerly ; and, therefore, I wish to be with them. Be- 
 sides, the neighboring ministers are stirred up to more dili- 
 gence 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 considera- 
 ble time at present ; so that, with these and other things which 
 require attention, I am too mjich 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 solemn 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 waver- 
 ing, but he is now quite decided ; and if Mr. does 
 
 not disappoint our hopes, I think the =^***=^* ##*#^-# ^-jj |^gg 
 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 Socin- 
 ian translation of the New Testament threatens to produce 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 157 
 
 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 Cum- 
 berland, and many others preach very different doctrine from 
 what they formerly did." 
 
 His afflictive melancholy had now become comparatively 
 harmless ; for, though it did not cease to distress him, its ty- 
 rannical power was broken, and it much less frequently imped- 
 ed 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 with- 
 out Christ I can do nothing. Were I not the dullest of all 
 scholars, I might surely 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 Scrip- 
 tures, with prayer, morning and evening. 
 
 " 2. When practicable, I will spend one day in every week 
 in fasting and prayer. 
 
 " 3. I will allow but six hours for sleep. 
 
 " 4. I will endeavor to redeem the time by being diligent 
 and fervent in business. 
 
 " 5. I will live more to the glory of God than I have done. 
 
 " 6. I will, every evening, review my conduct through the 
 day, and see how far I have fulfilled these resolutions." 
 
 To the peculiar trials which distinguished this year, the 
 merciful Redeemer provided an antidote in the spiritual bless- 
 ings which he bestowed. Under the labors of his servant, 
 sinners were converted, and the church was increased by an 
 addition of forty-four members. 
 14 
 
158 MEMOIR OF 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Permanency and strength of maternal injluence Correspond- 
 ence Death-bed anguish^ how alleviated Disgraceful inci- 
 dent Price of popularity Reasons of former trials devel- 
 oped Letters, S^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. 
 My 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 saga- , 
 cious she was in her aims at his heart, always successful in 
 touching the chord that would be sure to vibrate in a word, 
 now assiduous and valuable a comforter she was is apparent 
 from his answers to her letters : 
 
 '' Portland, Feb. 3, 1810. 
 "My dear Mother, 
 
 " I do * bless Heaven ' if I am made ' the 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 159 
 
 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 V 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.' 
 
 * 4: * * 
 
 " The attention to religion continues among us, and has 
 much increased within a few weeks. It seems to be spread- 
 ing more among the men. There are some favorable appear- 
 ances 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 disci- 
 ples " 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 !" 
 
 "jPe6. 8. Was favored with great fervor and freedom at 
 the throne of grace this morning. Longed only to be employ- 
 ed 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 disap- 
 pointed to find no new inquirers." 
 
 '< April 17,1810. 
 "My dearest Mother 
 
 " I have just received your affectionate letter, and thank 
 you most sincerely for the maternal love which breathes in 
 every line. God grant that I may be made worthy of all the 
 proofs of parental affection with which I am mercifully favored. 
 If I derive any pleasure from the success with which our gra- 
 cious Master is pleased to crown my labors in the ministry, it, 
 in a great measure, arises from the happiness which I know 
 this success gives my friends at home. Next to glorifying 
 
160 MEMOIR OF 
 
 God, by doing good to mankind, it is my chief desire to be 
 made the means of promoting your happiness. 
 
 ^ "Jr ^ ^ 
 
 " 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 boun- 
 teous Benefactor for this fresh instance of his goodness. 
 
 " I rejoice, most sincerely rejoice, with you, and especially 
 with my dear father, in the hopeful appearances which attend 
 his labors. He has long been going forth weeping, bearing 
 precious seed. I hope he will now be enabled to come again 
 rejoicing, bringing with him the sheaves of an abundant har- 
 vest. I still feel exceedingly anxious respecting his health, 
 but must leave it with God. 
 
 " My own health continues very much the same rather 
 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 excep- 
 tions, bid fair to do honor to the cause. Some of them, espe- 
 cially, advance very rapidly ; and the mouths of opposers, who 
 seek occasion to blaspheme, are stopped. The congregation, 
 and especially the church, continue affectionate as ever. In 
 short, I am a wonder to myself, and can scarcely believe what 
 I daily see of the goodness of God. You will naturally con- 
 clude, however, that inward trials will not be wanting where 
 outward comforts are so multiplied. I thought, long since, 
 that I had endured every thing horrible and dreadful that was 
 ever felt, heard of, or conceived ; but I find that the depths 
 of Satan, and of a heart desperately wicked, are not so easily 
 fathomed. These 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 throne. Yes ; our salvation is nearer than when we be- 
 lieved. Every moment it comes hastening on, and to-morrow 
 it will be here. Yes ; to-morrow we shall be as the angels of 
 God. O for patience to wait for the glory which will be re- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 161 
 
 vealed, and to endure the previous light afflictions, which con- 
 tinue 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. Incon- 
 siderate transgressors know little of the anguish which they 
 bring upon the pastor who warns and entreats them to seek 
 " the good and right way ;" and they undervalue his 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 men- 
 tioned below is, perhaps, a marked one ; and yet what faith- 
 ful minister could not name instances which form no distant 
 parallels to this ! 
 
 " May 12. Was permitted to draw near to God with joy 
 and confidence. O how astonishing is his goodness ! A little 
 while since, I thought it impossible I should ever be delivered 
 from the grasp of sin. But he has brought me up from the 
 horrible pit and miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and 
 put a new song into my mouth, even praise unto his name. 
 Had scarcely fallen asleep, when I was called up to visit a 
 dying woman. Found her in all the agonies of despair ; and 
 her dreadful shrieks pierced my very soul, and almost curdled 
 my blood with horror. Prayed, in an agony of spirit, that God 
 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 hear- 
 ing that the Spirit was again remarkably present at a prayer- 
 14* 
 
162 MEMOIR OF 
 
 meeting of the church this evening. Felt almost confident 
 that the Lord was about to make bare his arm in a wonderful 
 manner. Was so much animated and enlivened by this hope, 
 that I could scarcely recover sufficient tranquillity of mind to 
 pray that my hopes might not be disappointed. 
 
 "ill/a?/24. Was excessively feeble all day. In the after- 
 noon and evening, attended the conference for inquirers, but 
 found only one. Was, at first, discouraged; but afterwards 
 reflected, that it is God's method to bring us low, before he 
 
 " FHday 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 sup- 
 ported, 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 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 this people had been cursed 
 with, they have contracted a strong prejudice against the Con- 
 gregational 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 crowdec^, 
 attentive, and solemn assembly ; and from letters since receiv- 
 ed 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 163 
 
 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 pleas- 
 ure ; and yet I am continually wishing for more, though it feeds 
 nothing but pride. If we had no pride, I believe applause 
 would give us no pleasure. But no one can conceive how 
 dearly it is purchased ; what unspeakably dreadful temptations, 
 buffetings, and workings of depravity, are necessary to counter- 
 act the pernicious 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 humble ; and if your too great and un- 
 deserved 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 ? O, 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. O, "when shall I fly away, and be at rest? 
 
 " The work still goes on. Dr. 's church have, in some 
 
 measure, caught the flame, and compelled their ministers, re- 
 luctantly, I believe, to set up conferences. They have said so 
 much against evening meetings, that it is hard now to set them 
 up. But they are obliged to do it ; and, to use the language of 
 the world, the town is in danger of growing madder than ever." 
 
 Confidence in the wisdom and goodness of divine providence 
 usually reconciles the Christian to trials, and sustains him under 
 the occurrence of events, which, at the time, are wholly inex- 
 plicable. He rests on the kind assurance of his Redeemer, 
 "What thou knowest not now, thou shalt know hereafter." 
 And, though this promise refers him to a period beyond the 
 confines of mortality, when the light of heaven shall beam on 
 the intricacies of Providence, and put to flight the darkness 
 which envelopes them ; yet, even in the present world, he is often 
 
164 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 disci- 
 pline. 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 connect- 
 ed, 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 developements which already begin to appear in 
 the history of this afflicted and beloved man. Henceforth, the 
 reader wiU revert to the dark shades of the past with more of 
 complacency, and cease to look even upon his seasons of heart- 
 rending spiritual anguish, as worse than blank portions of ex- 
 istence. He suffered not for himself alone ; the Church of the 
 Redeemer was indirectly, yet largely benefited by what he en- 
 dured ; and many of her members were, probably, prevented 
 from making shipwreck of faith, and sinking into irrecoverable 
 despondency, in consequence of having for a guide and coun- 
 sellor one who had narrowly escaped a similar catastrophe. 
 The amount of suffering, which his own mental agony was thus 
 the occasion of preventing, will not be known till the great 
 day. But, long before he exchanged his armor for the victor's 
 crown, he could appropriate the language of Paul / now re- 
 joice 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. S, 1810. 
 ^'Mr 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, he^d of it ere this. Mr. R. 
 is better, and there are great hopes of his recovery. His com- 
 plaints, 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 155 
 
 say or think, had not a wise and gracious Master foreseen 
 what I should need, and taken measures accordingly. 
 
 " He has been pleased, of late, to bless my endeavors to com- 
 fort his tempted and distressed people with wonderful success. 
 I often stand astonished at it myself, and seem to look upon it 
 as a greater honor and favor, than even to be owned in the 
 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 conse- 
 quence. 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. 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 crea- 
 ture 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 ex- 
 travagance. 
 
 *' 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 considerable attention excited among his people. 
 
 " Afi:er all 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 
 
166 MEMOIR OF 
 
 among the Ninevites ; and we have, if possible, less reason to 
 be proud than he. But pride will live and thrive without rea- 
 son, 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 you 
 dare not write 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 of you to wound me no more 
 with them. Go and congratulate a viretch 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 situa- 
 tion 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 de- 
 gree 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 
 the pressure of its duties. I would not part with the privilege 
 of preaching Christ crucified to perishing sinners, and of ad- 
 ministering to the consolation of God's afflicted people, to be 
 made monarch of the world. But O the agonies, the unutter- 
 able, inconceivable agonies, which must be endured by those 
 who attempt, with such a heart as mine, to perform this work ! 
 I shudder with horror, to think of the scenes through which I 
 have been obliged to pass, and shrink back from those through 
 which I must yet pass before I reach the rest prepared for the 
 people of God. It is, however, some comfort, that the time, 
 when I shall quit this scene of trial, cannot be far distant. 
 Nature cannot long 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 wicked- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 167 
 
 ness, 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, humble, and watchful he may at pres- 
 ent 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. 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 materi- 
 ally out of its place : 
 
 ^* My health remains much the same. I have enjoyed more 
 in religion, since my last journey to Rindge, than during my 
 whole ministry before. My distressing exercises have vanish- 
 ed I sometimes hope, never to return ; and my thoughts are 
 so unusually drawn upward, that I cannot avoid concluding 
 that my stay on earth is to be but short. My church are many 
 of them of the same opinion. They tell me they 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 ! O, I long, I pant, I faint 
 with desire to be singing. Worthy is the Lamb to be extol- 
 ling 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 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. 
 
1^ MEMOIR OF 
 
 " Remember me most affectionately to our dear parents ; 
 and I hope that they and you are willing that I should go to 
 heaven first." 
 
 " Portland, Dec. 10, 1810. 
 " My dearest Mother, 
 
 " Since my return, it has pleased my adorable Saviour, in 
 his sovereign mercy, to give me clearer and more transporting 
 views of himself than I have ever before enjoyed ; and 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 O 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 fac- 
 ulty 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, insupport- 
 able obligations. O for an angel's tongue O for the tongues 
 often thousand angels, to sound his praises ! I would fain do 
 something for him, but I can do nothing. I cannot even at- 
 tempt to do any thing without his grace ; and the more I am 
 enabled to do in his service, so much the more is the load of 
 obligation increased. O that God, who alone is able, would 
 glorify his Son ! This, at present, is all my salvation, and all 
 my desire, that Christ may be glorified. For this reason, I 
 long and pray for a revival. I long that the blessed Jesus 
 should receive some more suitable returns for his wondrous 
 love to our ruined race. We are hoping that this will be the 
 case here. I hope the church begin to awake and pray more 
 earnestly than ever, and that we shall yet see hundreds here 
 praising the ever-blessed Redeemer. It seems of no conse- 
 quence what becomes of me. It seems of no consequence 
 what becomes of sinners, comparatively speaking. But, O, it 
 is of infinite consequence that Christ should be glorified. My 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 109 
 
 dearest mother, do strive to love him more than ever. Do 
 strive to make others love him. O, if it was not for a hope of 
 doing something for his glory, how could we be content to live 
 a single hour absent from his presence above ! 
 
 " I shall not wonder if you think me mad. I have been 
 mad, and am just beginning to see my madness. O how little 
 zeal, how little love, have I manifested ! How madly have I 
 misimproved my time and talents ! how wretchedly neglect- 
 ed the all-important work to which I am called ! how un- 
 gratefully requited the best of Saviours ! How often have I 
 called his love and faithfulness in question, at the very time 
 he was taking the best possible measures to promote my hap- 
 piness ! Now he returns to humble me, and shame me for 
 my folly and ingratitude. O, 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 paci- 
 fied towards me for all that I have done ! O that, for the re- 
 mainder of life, I could hear of nothing, think of nothing, 
 speak of nothing, but the wonders of his person, his charac- 
 ter, 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. 
 15 
 
170 MEMOIR OF 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Holy aspirations Gratitude to the Saviour Multiplied la- 
 bors Novel family scene Danger averted ^' Curious 
 frame^^ ^Flattery deprecated His marriage Becomes 
 sole pastor of the church Retrospect of the year. 
 
 " Dec. 17, 1810. I now commence the fourth year of my 
 ministry. Whether I shall live to finish it God only knows. 
 O that it may be spent to better purpose than those which are 
 passed ! 
 
 " Dec. 29. Felt the blessed effects of casting all my cares 
 upon him who careth for me. In family prayer, was most un- 
 usually drawn out towards God, and felt as much like an in- 
 habitant of heaven as I ever expect to feel here. All earthly 
 objects were swallowed up ; self appeared to be nothing, and 
 God to be all in all. Felt as if my 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 reli- 
 gious 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 : 
 
 '^ Jan. 10, 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 need- 
 ed 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 for- 
 sake us. O how sovereign and free is his grace 1" 
 
 Under the same date, he writes to his mother : 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 171 
 
 *' Last Sabbath was communion with us. I preached from 
 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 redem.p- 
 tion ! To snatch a smoking brand from eternal burnings, and 
 plant it among the stars in the firmament of heaven, there to 
 shine hke the sun forever O, what a glorious work is this ! 
 a work worthy of God ! a work which none but God could 
 perform. Such a brand am I a brand yet smoking with 
 the half-extinguished fires of sin ; a brand, scorched and black- 
 ened 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 1 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 know- 
 eth 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." O, won- 
 der! how passing wonder is this! Methinks, if I could bor- 
 row, for a moment, the archangel's trump, and make heaven, 
 earth and hell resound with " Worthy is the Lamb that was 
 slain!" I could contentedly drop into nothing. But no^ I 
 should wish to live, and make them resound with his name 
 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 in- 
 deed. 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, 
 
172 MEMOIR OF 
 
 too, are more roused, and we have as yet had no scandals 
 among us for the world to take hold of. I cannot but hope, 
 that God designs to raise up a church here, which will shine 
 bright, and be like a city set on a hill. 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 com- 
 munion table. It would, I doubt not, rejoice your very heart." 
 
 Some idea of the variety and amount of his labors may be 
 collected from a single sentence, which is incidentally intro- 
 duced into a letter, dated February 17 : " I preach, or do what 
 is, at least, as laborious, six nights in a week, besides talking, 
 incessantly, a considerable part of every day." It is not im- 
 probable, that, to his private intercourse, not less than his public 
 addresses, the rapid prosperity of religion is to be ascribed. 
 His inventive genius seemed to delight in finding out as many 
 ways as possible, by which a religious influence might be 
 brought to bear upon those to whom he had access. Take 
 the following domestic scene as an illustration : it is unques- 
 tionably the offspring of his own pious ingenuity ; for it bears 
 as infallible miarks 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, 
 we have agreed, that, if either of us says a word, which tends 
 in the least to the discredit of any person, the rest shall ad- 
 monish the offender ; and this has entirely banished evil-speak- 
 ing from among us. In the next place, we are careful, es- 
 pecially in the early part of the day, as at breakfast, to con- 
 verse 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 heaven- 
 ly ; and sometimes God is pleased to open to us a door in 
 heaven, so that we get a glimpse of what is transacting there 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 173 
 
 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." 
 
 " We have been in great danger from fire. It was truly 
 
 of the Lord's mercies, that we were not consumed, with a con- 
 siderable part of the town. ^ Just as the water began to fail, and 
 all hopes were over, the fire abated. I was so much fatigued 
 by over exertion in removing our things, that I was miserably 
 unwell for a fortnight, but am now recovered. Some ac- 
 knowledge the goodness of God in .sparing the town; but others 
 are dreadfully hardened. One poor creature, as soon as the 
 fire was extinguished, cried out, " Well, we have got it out, 
 but no thanks to Payson, nor God neither." Another, after 
 meeting, the ensuing Sabbath, observed, that he " did not like 
 this giving all the glory to God ; but that man ought to have, 
 at least, some part of the glory of putting out the fire." This 
 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 assist- 
 ed, and the people were very solemn. Most gladly will I glory 
 in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me ; 
 for when I am weak, then I am strong." 
 
 " Portland, March 25, 1811 . 
 "My dear Mother, 
 
 " Satan rages most violently against Christ's sheep, and 
 
 I am almost constantly employed in trying to counsel and com- 
 fort them, under their manifold temptations. However, the 
 more he rages, the faster they grow ; though I have had se- 
 rious 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 I, I, I ! nothing 
 15* 
 
174 MEMOIR OF 
 
 but I's seven in half a page. Well, I don't care I .am writ- 
 ing to my mother, and I know she loves to hear about /; 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 
 v.ith 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 seem- 
 ed to reply as powerfully as if he had spoken with an audible 
 voice " Because I am never weary of gratifying my dear Son, 
 and showing the greatness of my love to him. Till I am weary 
 of him, and cease to love him, I shall never be weary of heap- 
 ing favors on his friends, however unworthy." These words, 
 it is true, contain nothing more than an obvious truth ; but 
 they conveyed more to my mind than all the books I ever read. 
 If you meditate upon them, perhaps they may convey some- 
 thing to yours. What strong confidence are they suited to 
 inspire, if we realize their full import ! How will they encour- 
 age 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 
 liesh, appear so great and glorious. While meditating upon it, 
 I was wonderfully struck with a reason which never occurred 
 to me before, why God permitted Adam to fall. Had he stood, 
 all his posterity would have been happy. He would, therefore, 
 in one sense, have been their Saviour ; and while they were 
 enjoying the happiness of heaven, they would have exclaimed, 
 " For all this we are indebted to our first parent." This 
 would have been too great an honor for any finite being. It 
 would have tempted Adam to pride, and us to idolatry. The 
 honor, therefore, was reserved for God's own Son, the second 
 Adam. But perhaps this has occurred to you before ; so I will 
 not enlarge. 
 
 '^ Mr. R. is still in miserable health. He will take a journey 
 in the spring. If that does not help him, w^e shall think him 
 irrecoverable. I fear he is too good to stay long on earth. 
 
 " You must not, certainly, my dear mother, say one word, 
 which even looks like an intimation that you think me advanc- 
 ing in grace. I cannot bear it. Every body here, whether 
 friends or enemies, are conspiring to ruin me. Satan and my 
 own heart, of course, will lend a hand ; and if you join too, I 
 fear all the cold water, which Christ can throw upon my pride, 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 175 
 
 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 hun- 
 dred good reasons why I should not be proud ; but pride won't 
 mind reason, nor any thing else but a good drubbing. Even at 
 this moment, I feel it tingling in my fingers' ends, and seeking 
 to guide my pen." 
 
 " April 4. Spent the forenoon in writing. In the after- 
 noon, attended the inquiry meeting, and was refreshed by see- 
 ing 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. 
 
 " Aprils. 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, and 
 exceedingly wretched most of the day. The light of my soul 
 was withdrawn from me. O, what a miserable wretch am I, 
 when Christ is absent ! It is, however, necessary that he should 
 sometimes withdraw ; and I was enabled to realize that it was 
 love, which induced him to hide his face, and 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 constitu- 
 tional tendency to depression. Female affection and ingenui- 
 ty could not have been better directed, or more signally honor- 
 ed 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 sumcient reason, that 
 ministers, as a class, are chargeable, beyond others, with fail- 
 ures in what relates to this most delicate and important con- 
 nexion. The truth is, their errors of this kind attract more 
 notice, and are more injurious. But the fact, that the peace 
 and welflire of so many, as well as his own usefulness, are ma- 
 
176 MEMOIR OF 
 
 terially 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 wed- 
 lock, who was anxious to know the best method of conducting 
 the preliminary intercourse ; but the favored object of his con- 
 jugal attachment still survives, and her right to the early avow- 
 als 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 
 youth, which have doomed many a man, either to take to his 
 bosom one, whom, though once his equal, he had so far out- 
 stripped in the career of mental improvement, as to produce a 
 most mortifying disparity, and preclude the hope of ever find- 
 ing in his wife a companion fitted for rational intercourse ; 
 or else, to desert the confiding female, whose affections he had 
 gained, an alternative, too base for an honorable-minded man 
 to adopt. Mr. Payson's circumspection is the more remarkable, 
 when his ardent temperament is considered ; and yet, as early 
 as 1805, the following sober views are expressed in a letter to 
 his sister : 
 
 " When I was at home, I thought you appeared rather ap- 
 prehensive, 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 Testa- 
 ment. 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 : 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 177 
 
 '' Exeter, Wed, Eve. 
 " My dearest Mother, 
 
 " As I know the deep interest you take in every thing 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 conclud- 
 ed on, and nothing remains but to fix the wedding day. On 
 this point alone we differed. * * * 
 
 " And now, my dearest mother, you must permit me to exult 
 over you a little. When I used to talk of getting a wife with- 
 out 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 Prov- 
 idence 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 that 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 per- 
 suaded, 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 pow- 
 ers as piquant in satire as it was judicious in counsel, and 
 soothing in consolation. She might have thought him affect- 
 edly 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 discloses 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 a Sabbath or lecture day ; yet 
 I felt very guilty in appropriating so much of my Master's time 
 
178 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 sought divine direction ; but I have since been afraid 
 that I did not. However, 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 is nothing. I neither expect any happi- 
 ness, nor wish for any, separate from that which arises from 
 serving and enjoying God. It is but a day, an hour, a mo- 
 ment, and all will be over. 
 
 " But, my dearest Mother, how could you write as you 
 
 did respecting the views and feelings which my letter express- 
 ed ? It was cruel to banter me so ; at least, if any other per- 
 son, 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 feel- 
 ings 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 any thing. 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 communica- 
 tion of his cautious parent was adapted to excite, are striking 
 and full of interest. To estimate aright his indifference, as to 
 the developements 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, 
 
 " I am very sorry you think me so heterodox in my no- 
 tions respecting matrimony ; but I cannot alter them. * * * 
 Have I not the best possible security, that all things shall work 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 179 
 
 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 ob- 
 ject 1 I should certainly feel very easy about my present wel- 
 fare, did it depend entirely on your good wishes 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, me- 
 thinks 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 ov/n 
 blood, surely would not refuse me such a trifle as a world, 
 which he could make with a word, if he savi^ that it was really 
 necessary to my happiness. Why, then, should I feel the least 
 possible anxiety about a wife 1 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 hap- 
 py 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 Fri- 
 day, 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 pre- 
 cious and adorable Saviour. You cannot find a quicker and 
 surer way to my heart, than by praising and loving him. 
 * * * He is worthy, he is precious indeed. To the power, 
 the majesty, the glory of God, he unites the gentleness, the 
 tenderness, the sympathy of a friend and brother. This is 
 just such a Saviour as we need. 
 
 * # ^ # 
 
 " I arrived, last evening, much fatigued. My journey, 
 though quickly performed, was not unattended with danger. 
 Owing to the weakness of the harness, or the carelessness of 
 the driver, the horses ran away with us no less than three 
 times, and were 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. 
 
180 MEMOIR OF 
 
 "It is a sufficient answer to your admonitions re- 
 specting my 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 la- 
 bors, 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 Sa- 
 tan cannot counterfeit." 
 
 From a union, formed on such principles, the happiest re- 
 sults were to be expected. That gracious Being, whose bless- 
 ing they had supplicated, more than answered their requests. 
 On taking possession of the habitation prepared for their re- 
 ception, they entered on their new condition a^j^ separate 
 family, with special acknowledgments of God. " Inlthe even- 
 ing," 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 glorifiedv" 
 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 1 
 have one of the best of wives ; not because I live in the midst 
 of a grateful and affectionate people ; not because I am sur- 
 rounded 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 grieved, provoked, and dishonored God, and he has 
 done nothing but heap favors, and pardons, and honors upon 
 me. O, it affects me, to think of his goodness. O that all 
 the world knew how vile I have been, and how good he has 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 181 
 
 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 nev- 
 er 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 strip- 
 ped 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. O, may I never forget, that, 
 whoever may be the stream. He is the Fountain. 
 
 "And now, my dearest mother, what more shall I say? 
 You have nothing to wish for, nothing to pray for, as it re- 
 spects your happy son, but that he may not be rendered sloth- 
 ful, 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 
 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 as- 
 sign them a later place, but which are connected with the 
 paragraphs just quoted, by the domestic nature of their con- 
 tents. The second is from his mother, congratulating him 
 upon the birth of his first-born, and must supply the place of 
 
182 MEMOIR 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 mix- 
 ture of joy and grief among us. Your letter to Grata, espe- 
 cially 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 inhab- 
 itants 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 hut, till we 
 get to heaven the same mail, that brought this welcome in- 
 telligence, 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 in- 
 stitution, 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 new^-married 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 first, and daily 
 see new cause to admire the wisdom and goodness of him 
 who fitted us for each other, and brought us together. I have, . 
 I may almost say, more temporal mercies than I wish for, and 
 they are continually increasing ; they come without asking ; 
 but neither by asking, nor in any other way, am I equally con- 
 scious of obtaining those spiritual blessings, which I wish for, 
 and which seem indispensably necessary. However, I do not 
 flatter myself that my present happiness will continue long. 
 Perhaps a few weeks will deprive me of her, whose society 
 constitutes so large a share of it. God's will be done. I trust 
 that he has, in some measure, prepared me for such an event. 
 I have viewed it in every possible point of light ; and, so far 
 as I can judge, feel willing, yes, blessed be his name ! perfect- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. X83 
 
 ly willing, that he should do what he will with his own. * * * 
 We shall have your prayers, I doubt not. O how much am I 
 already indebted to them 1 
 
 " 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 re- 
 member her Creator in the days of her youth." 
 
 " March 27, 1812. 
 " My ever dear Son. 
 
 ** Your last was, indeed, fraught with precious tidings ; 
 and we are now to view you and your dear Louisa, as sustain- 
 ing a new, and very important relation in life. May gracious 
 Heaven look with benignity upon this dear object of your mu- 
 tual affections, and realize your best wishes in its behalf 
 Precious babe ! already do I clasp it in my affections, and im- 
 plore 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 diffi- 
 cult the task, and how much patience, prudence, and grace, 
 is requisite to qualify us to be faithful to the sacred trust de- 
 posited 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 exceed- 
 ingly deficient in my duty to my children ; but with what in- 
 effable goodness has God pardoned my unfaithfulness, and no- 
 ticed every sincere attempt to discharge, in any measure, the 
 important duties of a mother, and, in some instances, done 
 more for them than I ever thought or asked. May He ena- 
 ble you to receive this little one from his gracious hands, and, 
 as he requires, bring it up for him. You were very kind to 
 write me so soon ; it was a proof of affection, for which my 
 heart thanks you but we are looking impatiently for another 
 letter. 
 
 " Your good father* put on one of his best smiles, upon 
 
 * The father of Mr. Payson, though he appears less prominent in this Me- 
 moir than his mother, was, nevertheless, deservedly ranked among the first 
 men in New Hampshire. Indeed, he stood high in the confidence of the relig- 
 ious public throughout New England ; and his counsel and active exertions were 
 much employed m promoting the general interests of literature and religion. 
 In furtherance of these, he made several long journeys on horseback 5 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 
 
184 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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. * * * * 
 
 " 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. Thus prays 
 
 "Your affectionate Mother." 
 
 In December, 1811, the sole care of the church and parish 
 devolved on him, in consequence of the dissolution of the sen- 
 ior 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 impor- 
 tant concern of personal religion. But such does not appear 
 to have been the effect, in the present case, to any very lam- 
 entable extent the accession to the church, this year, being 
 thirty-nine, 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 therefo7^e speak; in which he attempted to state the prin- 
 cipal doctrines which Paul professed to believe to show that 
 he did actually believe them that he had sufficient reasons to 
 believe them and that this 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 faith- 
 fulness. 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 which he pressed them upon his hearers, 
 than by bringing into view the momentous interests which they 
 involve. To those who are familiar with the epistles of Paul, 
 it is hardly necessary to say, that his sketch asserts the fall of 
 man, and the consequent universal depravity of the human 
 race ; and the other doctrines, peculiar to the Christian system, 
 which necessarily result from this, respecting the personal 
 
 Commissioners for Foreign Missions, as was his son after him. His various 
 pubhc 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 oc- 
 cupy the more conspicuous place. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 185 
 
 glories and mediatorial offices of Christ, and the way of a sin- 
 ner'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 be- 
 sides that of his spirituality and devotion to his work. A few 
 short extracts of each kind will form an appropriate conclusion 
 to the chapter : 
 
 ''July 17, Heard much, to-day, of the rage of opposers ; 
 found others much discouraged by it. Was driven by it to the 
 throne of grace, and there found unusual enlargement in plead- 
 ing for the effusion of the Spirit. Never felt more drawn out 
 in prayer for this, and could not help hoping that he would es- 
 pouse 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 mis- 
 chievous person, and sent off to see a person said to be dying. 
 . . . 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 
 from its power. 
 
 *' Oct. 5. Have been abundantly convinced, to-day, that it 
 is not a vain thing to call upon God. Was remarkably assist- 
 ed in preparing for to-morrow. In the evening, was favored 
 with an uncommonly precious season in prayer. O, how dif- 
 ferent 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 ex- 
 hausted. 
 
 " Oct. 10. Had some different views of Christ and heaven 
 from any I ever before enjoyed, so that I felt the fullest assur- 
 ance of salvation, and wished to be saved, that I might praise 
 and love God perfectly. 
 
 " Oct. 22. Was enabled to cast all my cares on the Lord, 
 and felt 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. 
 16* 
 
J 86 MEMOIR OF 
 
 *' Oct. 24. In the course of the day, saw an Indian. Was 
 instantly struck, and much affected with a sense of his wretch- 
 ed condition. Never had such feelings before. In the even- 
 ing, had great freedom in praying for poor savages and others, 
 who are destitute of the light of the gospel. 
 
 ^^ Nov. 7. Felt a little revived. Set up a little prayer meet- 
 ing in my family, for a revival, and had some liberty. 
 
 " Nov. 28. Had a most refreshing and delightful season in 
 prayer this morning. Felt something of the life and power of 
 religion through the day. In the evening, preached, .... and 
 was uncommonly assisted, and the people appeared much af- 
 fected. Felt much gratitude to God for his assistance, and 
 much encouraged respecting a revival." 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 187 
 
 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 van- 
 ished 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 freshness of originality. His resources 
 for this duty appeared to be absolutely inexhaustible. There 
 was something in his prayers powerful to arrest and fix atten- 
 tion 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 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 distinguish- 
 ed minister, since Dr. Payson's death, whether he left behind 
 him any written forms of prayer. So far from this, it is be- 
 lieved he never wrote a prayer. There are, indeed, inter- 
 spersed throughout his private writings and sermons, numer- 
 ous ejaculations and supplicatory paragraphs ; but nothing 
 intended exclusively as a prayer. His " Confession and Form 
 of Covenant," in a preceding chapter, bears the nearest resem- 
 
188 MEMOIR OF 
 
 blance 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 impression 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 invo- 
 cations, 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 de- 
 vout 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 emi- 
 nent, 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 succes- 
 sive years, records repeated seasons of prayer for almost every 
 day, together with the state of his affections, and the exercise 
 or want of those graces which constitute the " spirit of suppli- 
 cation." 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 weari- 
 some, disgusting, endless monotony. When the inventive char- 
 acter of his mind is considered, its exquisite delight in every 
 thing that was original, these records exhibit the most infalli- 
 ble evidence 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 success- 
 ful, must be ardent, so must it be not fitful, but habitual. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 189 
 
 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 ob- 
 tain from them a better knowledge of his manner, than from 
 any description of it by another hand. 
 
 " What are the principal excellences 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 nerformance 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 ad- 
 dressed, and to excite and direct the devotional feelings of his 
 worshippers. These two objects, though distinct, are insepa- 
 rably 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 expression of the psalmist will illus- 
 trate my meaning : ' When thou saidst. Seek ye my face, my 
 heart said unto thee. Thy face. Lord, will I seek.' In a simi- 
 lar 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 com- 
 mands, his promises, and the description he has given of our 
 own wants, and those of our fellow-creatures ; and our thanks- 
 givings, to the favors which he has bestowed on ourselves, our 
 countrymen, and our race. When our devotional performan- 
 ces 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 
 
190 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 com- 
 mon fault o{ 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 of 
 God to our people, and set before them their duty, as it re- 
 spects 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 avoid- 
 ed by us in leading the devotions of our hearers. 
 
 " In the first place, I conceive that our devotional perform- 
 ances 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, un- 
 candid 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, al- 
 most entirely, 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 compose a sermon or essay, while the heart is allowed 
 no share in the performance ; so that we may more properly 
 be said to make a prayer, than to pray. The consequence is, 
 that our devotional performances are too often cold and spirit- 
 less : as the heart did not assist in composing, it disdains to 
 aid in uttering them. They have almost as much of a form, 
 as if we made use of a liturgy ; while the peculiar excellen- 
 ces of a liturgy are wanting. Our hearers soon become fa- 
 miliarized to our expressions, and not unfrequently learn to 
 anticipate them ; 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 un- 
 derstanding should be allowed only to shape and arrange the 
 effusions of the heart in the manner best adapted to answer 
 the end designed. From the fulness of a heart overflowing 
 
EDWARD FAYSON. 191 
 
 with holy affections, as from a copious fountain, we should 
 pour forth a torrent of pious, humble, and ardently-affection- 
 ate feelings ; while our understandings only shape the chan- 
 nel, 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 for- 
 ward 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 worldly 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 its effects : * And 
 Ezra blessed the Lord, the great God. And all the people 
 answered. Amen, amen, with lifting 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 per- 
 son 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 1 Yet how often is this done ! How often 
 do we hear prayers flow on, from the commencement to the 
 close, in the same uniform tone, with scarcely a perceptible 
 inflection of the voice ! Yet no two things can differ more 
 widely than the feelings which are expressed in different parts 
 of the same prayer. Surely, then, a corresponding difference 
 ought to be perceived in the modifications of the voice. In 
 every other public expression of our feelings, such a difference 
 is expected and required. The effect of the most eloquent 
 composition would be greatly impaired, not to say wholly de- 
 
192 MEMOIR OF 
 
 stroyfed, 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, howev- 
 er, 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 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 proba- 
 ble contempt of our most judicious hearers. If we have no 
 thoughts or feelings that glow, it is worse than useless to affect 
 *^ words that burn.^' 
 
 *^ Another fault, which is not unfrequently found in our de- 
 votional 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 char- 
 acter. 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 ex- 
 pressions which intim.ate 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 which ought to be avoided. It is, indeed, a 
 common, and, with some limitation, a just remark, that a min- 
 ister 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 193 
 
 iDith those who are pious, and for those who are not so. In- 
 stead 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, w^iile 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 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 inexpe- 
 rienced, weak, or declining Christians. Instead of descend- 
 ing to their standard, we must endeavor to raise them to ours. 
 If we wish our people to feel dissatisfied with their present at- 
 tainments, and to become eminent Christians, v/e must accus-- 
 tom them to hear the devotional language of eminent Chris- 
 tians, by uttering such language in our prayers, if, indeed, we 
 can do it without uttering what we do not ^ee\. As an eagle 
 tempts her young to soar higher than they would dare to do 
 were they not encouraged by her example, fet> 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, unsha- 
 ken confidence, assured hope, and rapturous gratitude, admi- 
 ration, 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 lan- 
 guage 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 devo- 
 tion. 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. 
 17 
 
194 MEMOIR OF 
 
 " Another fault, sometimes found in devotional performances 
 which are otherwise unexceptionable, is the want of sufficient 
 particularity. Indeed, most of our public prayers are too gen- 
 eral. They bring so much into view, that nothing is seen dis- 
 tinctly. It is well known, that, if we except sublime and ter- 
 rible objects, nothing affects the mind, unless it be clearly and 
 distinctly perceived. If the most admired descriptive poems, 
 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 
 v/ithout exciting the affections of our hearers. But when we 
 descend to particulars, the effect is different. The mind re- 
 ceives, drop after drop, till it is full. We should, therefore, 
 aim at as great a degree of particularity, as the time allotted 
 us, and the variety of topics on which we must touch, will 
 allow. Especially is it important, that we enter deeply and 
 particularly into every part of Christian experience, and lay 
 open all the minute ramifications, and almost imperceptible 
 workings of the pious heart, in its various situations, and thus 
 show our hearers to themselves in every point of view. In a 
 v/ord, 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 lan- 
 guid st.ate of devotional feeling ; and that the only effectual 
 remedy is to be sought in the diligent cultivation of a frame of 
 temper habitually devout. That a minister may lead the devo- 
 tions of his people in the most suitable and edifying manner, it 
 seems indispensable that he should possess a mind deeply im- 
 bued with divine truth ; a mind, into the very frame and tex- 
 ture of which the doctrines of revelation are wrought ; and a 
 heart thoroughly broken and humbled for sin, and tremblingly 
 alive to the voice of God, and ever glowing with celestial fire. 
 He, who, with such a mind and such a heart, lives much in 
 his closet, praying, as the apostle expresses it, in the Holy 
 
EDWARD PAYSOiN. 195 
 
 Ghost, and habitually imploring his assistance to help his in- 
 firmities, will always lead the devotions of his people in a judi- 
 cious, edifying, and acceptable manner ; nor will he need the 
 aid of a precomposed form. In his prayers, as well as in his ser- 
 mons, he will constantly bring out of his treasury things nev/ 
 and old. But if our hearts will not pray, or teach us in what 
 manner to cry to our heavenly Father and Redeemer, our un- 
 derstandings must; and we must either compose or borrow 
 forms for that purpose. How far, in this case, we can be con- 
 sidered as called to the work of the ministry, or fitted for it, is 
 not for me to say ; but, surely, he who can contemplate the 
 wonders of creation, and yet find nothing to say to his Maker ; 
 still more, he who can meditate on the mysteries of redeeming 
 love, and behold the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, 
 without feeling praises ready to burst spontaneously from his 
 lips, has some reason to fear that he possesses little of the spirit 
 of heaven, and that he has never learned that new song, which 
 none can learn but those who are redeemed from the earth ; for, 
 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 de- 
 portment, were such as brought home and fastened on the 
 minds of his hearers the conviction that he believed, and there- 
 fore spoke. So important did he regard such a conviction in 
 the attendants on the ministry, that he made it the topic of 
 one of his addresses to his clerical brethren ; and most of his 
 remarks on this subject will here be introduced, as disclosing 
 one of those great principles which formed the basis of his 
 ministerial character. 
 
 ** The importance of convincing our hearers that we 
 believe what we preach, and the means necessary 
 to produce such a conviction in their minds. 
 
 " The importance of convincing our hearers that we firmly 
 
196 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 con- 
 viction 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, sac- 
 rifice to vanity, or avarice, on the altar of God, employ the 
 cross of Christ as a ladder for ambition, and consequently de- 
 serve 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 need- 
 less 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. '^ Physi- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 197 
 
 cian, heal thyself," will be their secret, if not open reply to all 
 our admonitions, instructions, and reproofs. With what appa- 
 rent 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 obli- 
 gations to believe or obey. 
 
 " The well known and often quoted maxim of the poet, 
 
 Si vis me flere, dolendum est 
 
 Primum ipsi tibi - 
 
 is, with a slight variation, peculiarly applicable to the ministers 
 of Christ. If they wish their hearers to believe and be affect- 
 ed 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 in- 
 culcate 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 can- 
 not 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, pre- 
 paring an ark for their own salvation. In vain will they forbid 
 their hearers to lay up treasure on earth, while their own con- 
 duct excites a suspicion that they mind earthly things ; and in 
 vain will they inculcate 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 prel- 
 ate, * 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 
 17* 
 
198 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 pro- 
 duce effects positively mischievous. His unbelief, whether 
 real or supposed, will ever be urged by his hearers in vindica- 
 tion of their own. If he, they will say, whose profession leads 
 him to study the Scriptures, and who is, consequently, well ac- 
 quainted 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 minis- 
 ter 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, re- 
 semble their own, and that Christianity is a system of priest- 
 craft and delusion, invented by designing men for their own 
 benefit, and intended to keep the ignorant, weak, and credu- 
 lous 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 denoitiination to which we 
 belong, and be, consequently, led to seek among other sects, 
 and even wild enthusiasts, for that religious zeal and sincerity 
 which they know ought to be found in all the ministers of 
 Christ, but which they imagine is not to be found in us. And 
 while many of our hearers will thus be led into error or specu- 
 lative infidelity, a large proportion of those who remain will 
 infallibly become practical infidels, or settle down contented 
 with a meager form of godliness, in perfect ignorance of its 
 transforming, life-giving power. It is in vain to evade the 
 force of these obvious truths, by urging the acknowledged max- 
 im, that the Bible is the only rule of faith and practice ; that to 
 this alone men ought to look, and that they are entirely inex- 
 cusable in thus confounding 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 minis- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 199 
 
 ters of Christ. We are far, however, from asserting or suppos- 
 ing, 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 ex- 
 cuse 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 dili- 
 gence 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. 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, morose- 
 ness, 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 pro- 
 duce and maintain this conviction in the minds of men, is evi- 
 dent from facts. That the first preachers of the gospel suc- 
 ceeded in doing it, cannot be denied. While they were ac- 
 cused 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 testi- 
 mony to the truth of their assertions, ^' We believe, and there- 
 fore speak." " Knowing the terrors of the Lord, we persuade 
 men." " If we be beside ourselves, it is to God ; and if we be so- 
 ber, it is for your cause ; for we seek not yours, but you ; and 
 
200 MEMOIR OP 
 
 we will very 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 some- 
 what 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 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 con- 
 duct of the first preachers of Christianity. That they suc- 
 ceeded in convincing men of their sincerity, we have already 
 seen. And since, in similar circumstances, the same causes 
 ever produce similar eflfects, we may reasonably hope, by imi- 
 tating 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 see- 
 ing him who is invisible." It gives unseen things a sub- 
 stance, a reality, an existence in the mind. It does, as it 
 were, clothe them with a body, and thus leads those who pos- 
 sess it to feel and act, in some measure, as they would do. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 201 
 
 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 ap- 
 pear, on a moment's reflection, that these different methods of 
 ascertaining the means necessary to convince men of our sin- 
 cerity 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 vis- 
 ible, may easily be formed. He would feel, that God is all in 
 all, that his favor is the one thing needful, that his displeas- 
 ure is the only thing dreadful, and that, to a minister, noth- 
 ing, 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 nothing, in comparison with the salvation of a single soul. 
 With such feelings his conduct would correspond. While he 
 contemplated 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 grand 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 du- 
 ties. 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 immediately under the eye of a holy, heart-search- 
 ing God. While he would make supplication for himself and 
 his people, like one who was pleading for life, at the bar of his 
 judge, every word and accent would show that he was deeply 
 convinced of his guilt and sinfulness ; that he felt the need of a 
 Mediator ; that he felt, also, that holy, humble confidence, 
 which the sight of such a Mediator as Christ is calculated to 
 inspire. 
 
 " In delivering his message as an ambassador of Christ, he 
 would show that he felt deeply penetrated with a conviction of 
 
202 MEMOIR 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 peo- 
 ple would speak of a great and generous deliverer, who had 
 devoted his life for the welfare of his country. He would de- 
 scribe religion as a traveller describes a country through 
 which he has leisurely passed, or as an aged man describes the 
 scenes of his former life. He would portray the Christian 
 warfare as a veteran portrays a battle, in which he has just 
 been contending for liberty and life. He would speak of eter- 
 nity as one whose eye had been w earied in attempting to pen- 
 etrate its unfathomable recesses, and describe its awful reali- 
 ties like a man who stood 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 inde- 
 scribable solemnity, weight, and energy; a full recollection, 
 that he was by nature a child of wrath, and that he was ad- 
 dressing fellow men, fellow sinners^ mingled with compassion 
 for their wretched state, and an ardent desire for their salva- 
 tion, would spread an air of tenderness over his discourses, 
 and invest him with that affectionate, melting, persuasive cor- 
 rectness of manner, which is best calculated to affect and pen- 
 etrate 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. Wher- 
 ever he went, they would still surround him, and their over- 
 whelming importance would annihilate in his mind the impor- 
 tance 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 pub- 
 lic addresses ; and the prosecution of this object would leave 
 him neither leisure nor inclination to attend to secular con- 
 cerns, 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 203 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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 for- 
 gotten ; 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 min- 
 ister 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 lim- 
 its which sloth or negligence first introduced, and which cus- 
 tom 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 real- 
 ity 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 re- 
 quires ; 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 be- 
 lieve it to be so, we must show them that we fix no limits to 
 our labors, but those which necessity prescribes. 
 
204 ' MEMOIR OF 
 
 '* 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 our hearers, if we address them only in a cold, unfeel- 
 ing manner, 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 doc- 
 trines. St. Paul could say, when bidding farewell to his Ephe- 
 sian 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 expect- 
 ed, 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 be- 
 coming in the ministers of him who wept over rebellious Je- 
 rusalem. To say the least, some degree of apparent earnest- 
 ness, zeal, and fervor, seems requisite to stamp our public dis- 
 courses with an air of sincerity ; and when the natural dispo- 
 sition renders it impossible to manifest much warmth of feel- 
 ing, as in many cases it undoubtedly does, it is peculiarly ne- 
 cessary that its absence should be supplied by increased solem- 
 nity and energy in the dispensation of truth. Mankind are so 
 constituted, that it is exceedingly difficult, not to say impossi- 
 ble, for them to believe that a speaker is in earnest, who does 
 not appear to be interested in his subject, or who delivers inter- 
 esting and important truths, in a manner which betrays a total 
 want of feeling ; and never are they less ready to excuse such 
 a manner never, indeed, is it less 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 princi- 
 pally ascribed. It is this, which gives their loose and desulto- 
 ry, but vehement harangues, an air of sincerity, an appear- 
 ance of flowing warm from the heart, which our more correct 
 and methodical discourses do not always possess, 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 appa- 
 rent 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 proportion to the outward 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 205 
 
 expressions of it. We readily allow, that many may firmly be- 
 lieve 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 fir below them in real faith and religious 
 sensibility. Still, we cannot believe that it is impossible for 
 any one, whose heart glows with the sacred fire 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, that we 
 exhibit the influence and effects of faith in our more private 
 intercourse with society. ^ It is here,' says a celebrated Eng- 
 lish prelate, ' that, I conceive, we of the clergy are apt to fail. 
 We do not always, in the common intercourse of life, appear 
 sufficiently penetrated with the importance of our function, or 
 sufficiently assiduous in promoting the ends of our mission.' 
 * I could name instances,' says another divine, * where it has 
 appeared to me, that the probable good effects of a very faith- 
 ful testimony in the pulpit, have, humanly speaking, been 
 wholly defeated by too successful endeavors to be agreeable out 
 of it.' These remarks, though made with reference to the 
 English clergy, are but in too many instances applicable to the 
 divines of our own country ; and they suggest, at once, much 
 important instruction and reproof It is doubtless right to 
 associate with all classes among our hearers, and even 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 law- 
 fully can ; but our only object in doing it must be by all meanj 
 to save some ; and if the object be not kept steadily in view, 
 if religious conversation be not introduced On all proper occa- 
 sions, 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 du- 
 ties, when we descend from the sacred desk ; if, while associat- 
 ing with our impenitent hearers, we appear to forget their char- 
 acter, 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 num- 
 ber of his patients, that their symptoms were highly alarming, 
 and their diseases probably mortal, and then sit down and con- 
 18 
 
206 MEMOIR OF 
 
 verse 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 1 
 So if our impenitent hearers see us, after solemnly assuring 
 them from the pulpit, that they are children of disobedience, 
 children of wrath, and momentarily exposed to the most awful 
 punishment, mingling in their society with an apparent uncon- 
 sciousness of their perilous situation; conversing with earnest- 
 ness 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 re- 
 flect 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, com- 
 passion, 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 con- 
 vince them by our conduct, that we never forget our character, 
 our duty, or their situation. 
 
 " The conviction of our cordial belief of the truths v/e deliv- 
 er, which such a discharge of the ministerial duty will produce 
 in the minds of our hearers, must be seated and maintained 
 by a corresponding life. Unaccompanied with this, all other 
 means will be in vain. * Example,' says a French prelate, * is 
 the groundwork of a minister's character.' * In vain,' he 
 adds, * do we preach to our hearers. Our life, of which they 
 are witnesses, is, with the generality of men, the gospel. It is 
 not what we declare in the house of God, it is what they see 
 us practise in our general demeanor.' If, then, we would 
 maintain a conviction among our hearers, that we are sincere, 
 our conduct, as well as our sermons, must preach ; and if the 
 former contradicts, or does not coincide with the latter, no good 
 effects can be reasonably expected to follow. We must, there- 
 fore, 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 quali- 
 ties, which your parishioners and acquaintance will ascribe to 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 207 
 
 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 pic- 
 ture ; so accurately did the grand features of his ministerial 
 character correspond with this delineation. Here is, unques- 
 tionably, the standard of excellence which he had prescribed 
 to himself, and at which his aims were continually directed. 
 And, whatever might have been the degree of those deficien- 
 cies, which he so frequently and so pathetically laments, as 
 to the spirit and temper with which he discharged his official 
 duties, it is doubted whether the most scrutinizing observer 
 was ever able to detect in his practice any material variation 
 from this standard. Often did his clear exhibitions of truth, 
 and his full and plain exposures of the.obliquities of men, prove 
 the 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." 
 
^y^ MEMOIR OF 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The pastor in action Methods of exciting^ sustaining and 
 extending a due interest in religious concerns Preaching, 
 admijiistration of ordinances, church fast, conference, in- 
 quiry meetings. 
 
 Although most of the preceding chapter, if changed from 
 the didactic form to that of narration, would, for the extent to 
 which it reaches, present a true history of its author, yet there 
 are other details from his own pen, interspersed throughout his 
 familiar correspondence, which will be found scarcely less in- 
 structive, and, at the same time, exhibit a fuller developement 
 of the nature, extent, and variety of his pastoral labors. We 
 shall commence our extracts with a letter written in 1812, to a 
 young clergyman, then recently settled in the ministry, who 
 had sought his instruction and advice on the subject of pastoral 
 duties. It has already been stated, that Mr. Payson was now 
 the sole pastor of the church ; and it was in this year that thir- 
 ty-one of its members were separated from it, and, by a distinct 
 organization, constituted the " Chapel Congregational Church in 
 Portland," over which Mr. Kellogg was placed as pastor. The 
 vacancy hereby created was more than filled forty-eight per- 
 sons 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 in- 
 experienced, and inadequate to the charge 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 ! of my 
 own 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, 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 209 
 
 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 ceas- 
 ing. You have doubtless met with Luther's remark " Three 
 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 Di- 
 vine Spirit ; and that they should frequently meet for this pur- 
 pose. For, though private prayer may be as effectual, it does 
 not so directly tend to honor God, as that which is more pub- 
 lic. God converts sinners for his own glory, and he will have 
 all the glory of their conversion. Nothing tends more directly 
 to give him the glory, than social prayer. In that duty we ex- 
 plicitly acknowledge, not only to him, but to our fellow-crea- 
 tures, 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 ac- 
 knowledge that, in the conversion of sinners, he is alJ, and we 
 are nothing. 
 
 " With respect to those who are awakened, I conceive it is 
 our duty to act as fellow-workers with the Divine Spirit ; to 
 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 sin 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 spirituality of his law ; the various artifices, deceptions, 
 and excuses of the heart ; the false hopes of sinners and hypo- 
 crites ; the nature of true and false conversion : and the great 
 18* 
 
210 MEMOIR OF 
 
 danger of being deceived. I also frequently warn them of the 
 dreadful consequences of delaying repentance, grieving the 
 Spirit, losing their convictions, or resting on false hopes, like 
 the stony ground hearers. I labor especially to convince them 
 that all the 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 ad- 
 dition 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, ingrat- 
 itude, &>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, even- 
 ings for males. It is difficult to persuade them to converse as 
 freely 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 uncondi- 
 tionally to the 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. U, ISM. 
 " 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 immedi- 
 ately in their Father's work, to meet me in the evening, and, 
 at the same time, told them I was not confident that any of 
 them would come. However, about forty attended. After 
 stating to them the 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 211 
 
 thirty came the second evening ; and, though I cannot calcu- 
 late upon all, or even the major part of them, becoming Chris- 
 tians, 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 origina- 
 ted 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 con- 
 duct, 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 be- 
 lieved God was about to bless us, and told them that the quar- 
 terly 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 willing to meet the church to signify 
 it by rising. About two thirds of the congregation instantly 
 rose. It was a most solemn scene. The church, to whom 
 the measure was altogether unexpected, were almost over- 
 whelmed with various emotions, and scarcely knew whether 
 to 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 ex- 
 pected, 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 diaboli- 
 cal depravity of heart. The meeting-house was full, but things 
 did not go on in the manner I had hoped and expected. I 
 
212 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 con- 
 siderably 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 n,lS16. 
 " My avocations were never so numerous. I have two ser- 
 mons, which I wish, if possible, to prepare for the press, but 
 fear I never shall find time. I have also three ordination ser- 
 mons to preach within two months, sermons before two mis- 
 sionary societies within the same time, and, on the second 
 Sabbath in July, I have an engagement to preach in Ports- 
 mouth, 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, I 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 heard about 
 a revelation, I need not tell you that there is no truth in it. 
 However, I hope the Lord has some people yet to be gathered 
 in here. We have admitted thirty-three since the year came 
 in, and nine stand propounded ; the number of inquirers about 
 one hundred, and slowly increasing." 
 
 ' April 13, 1820. 
 " We have some encouraging appearances, as we have often 
 had before, but nothing decisive. Last Sabbath, I invited the 
 male part of the parish, who were willing to be considered in- 
 quirers after religion, to meet me in the evening. Between 
 thirty and forty attended, but I fear that very few of them are 
 deeply impressed. We have about the same number of fe- 
 males, who are in a similar state : and it seems, as it has for 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 213 
 
 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 m.any ways. 
 You can scarcely conceive how many 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 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 sole^m meeting we have had for a long 
 time. Among the notes w^e 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 acknowl- 
 edge what God has done for us, and it was a comfortable sea- 
 son. These things give me some encouragement ; but we 
 have been so often disappointed, that I scarcely dare to hope." 
 
 A letter to a young clergyman, written soon after the pre- 
 ceding extract, contains a still more complete sketch of his 
 labors at this time. It has been extensively copied by the re- 
 ligious periodicals of the country, one of which professes to be 
 * shocked at his expressions in relation to revivals,' as indicat- 
 ing * that temerity which would rely on the impotent arm of 
 the creature.' If his language is susceptible of such a con- 
 struction, it most unhappily misrepresents his judgment and 
 his heart. For, though he was " abundant in labors," no man 
 ever ascribed less efficiency to means, or felt more entirely his 
 exclusive dependence upon the Holy Spirit. 
 
 ''My dear Brother. '^Portland, Aug. 17, 1821. 
 
 *' I have just received your kind letter, and hope it has done 
 me some good. I thank you for it, though the perusal of it 
 
214 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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. Be- 
 sides, 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 oppor- 
 tunity for gratifying an accursed spirit of self-seeking, which 
 has ever been my bane and torment, and which insinuates it- 
 self into every thing I say or do. I know not that I haye ever 
 spoken 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 I 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 skele- 
 ton 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 wis- 
 dom of men, and, therefore, make as little use as possible of 
 human arguments^ but confine myself to a plain, simple exhi- 
 bition 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 Chris- 
 tians, 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 com- 
 mittee of the church, for that district, to supply the wants of the 
 poor, and bring before the church, in due form, any case of 
 discipline which may occur. We have a monthly meeting of 
 all the brethren for business, a church conference every Tues- 
 day evening, a prayer meeting on Friday evening, a monthly 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 215 
 
 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 a& 
 ternoon. 
 
 " 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 me of at least three days in 
 every week, and partly to continual interruptions from visiters, 
 whom I must see. I knew not how to bear this, till I met 
 with the following maxim of an eminent minister : *'TAe man 
 who wants me is the man I want J ^ 
 
 " My rule, in regard to visiting, is to visit as much as time and 
 health will permit. I make none but pastoral visits. I gave 
 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 
 saved me much time and trouble. 
 
 *' The books which I have found most useful to me are Ed- 
 wards's Works, Brainerd's Life, Newton's Letters, Owen's 
 Treatise on Indwelling Sin, Mortification of Sin in Believers, 
 and the 130th Psalm, and Thomas a Kempis's Imitation of 
 Christ, translated by Payne for Stanhope's translation I think 
 not so good. If you have not seen Thomas a Kempis, I beg 
 you to procure it. Some things you will not like ; but, for spir- 
 ituality and weanedness from the world, I know of nothing 
 equal to it. Perhaps I ought to include, in the above list, 
 Baxter's Reformed Pastor, and Saint's Rest. 
 
 " It would require a volume to detail the experiments I have 
 made, and the means I have used to effect a revival of relig- 
 ion ; 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, pre- 
 sent notes requesting prayers for the conversion of any friend 
 or relative for whom they feel anxious. No names are men- 
 tioned. The notes are placed in a small box by the door, and 
 afterwards handed to me to be read. We have had two meet- 
 ings. They were uncommonly solemn, and many of the notes 
 were very affecting. One was, " A female stranger desires 
 your prayers for her conversions^ Another, " One of the so- 
 ciety 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, chil- 
 dren, &c. When we came to spread all these cases before 
 
215 MEMOIR OF 
 
 God as the only Giver of good things, the scene was awfully 
 solemn and afTecting. 
 
 * * * # 
 
 *^ I think with you, that the management of a revival is a very 
 difficult thing. It is, I believe, a subject as yet but very imper- 
 fectly understood. At least, I know but very little of it. 
 
 *' I think I can conceive, in some measure, of the inconve- 
 nience you experience in consequence of the great extent of 
 your 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 many 
 things which need to be done, but which we cannot find time 
 or strength to do. My parish, as well as my heart, "^ry much 
 resembles the garden of the sluggard ; and, what is worse, I 
 find that most of my desires for the melioration of both pro- 
 ,ceed either from pride, or vanity, or indolence. I look at the 
 v/eeds which overspread my garden, and breathe out an ear- 
 nest 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 m,ay wish for the destruction of the weeds be- 
 cause I am weary of pulling them up. This is indolence. 
 Yet from such sources, I fear, do most of my desires for per- 
 sonal 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 actu- 
 ated, it would have a salutary effect upon our whole conduct. 
 While reading over each day's page of life, with the conscious- 
 ness 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, 
 as our kind Master does, take the will for the deed. May He 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 217 
 
 fill you with the Holy Ghost, and with faith, and make you in- 
 strumental 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 min- 
 istry. 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 ob- 
 serve the following Wednesday as a day of fasting and prayer 
 for divine influences ; and, after mentioning that religious ex- 
 ercises would be attended in the morning, afternoon, and 
 evening, he observed : " Should any be disposed to ask, with 
 the Phav'sees of old, ' To what purpose is this waste of time V 
 I would remind them of the attention lately bestowed on an 
 earthly benefactor. One united, earnest request w^as made 
 to him, that he would visit tiiis country, for which, in times of 
 trial, he had sacrificed ease and domestic comfort, and hazard- 
 ed his life and treasure. He acceded to the invitation of a 
 grateful people ; he has visited i/ou. 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 gift ? 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 v/ill visit us? And should he 
 come, would he be welcomed as v/as the benefactor just allud- 
 ed 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 bo 
 felt, and the effects of it made visible. And the effects 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 acknowledgments 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 V 
 
 Among his various methods of drawing attention to the sub- 
 ject of religion, and impressing the mind with its importance, 
 the following is, perhaps, worthy of preservation, for the prac- 
 tical hint which it conveys : 
 19 
 
218 MEMOIR OF 
 
 " 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 state- 
 ments of insulated facts should be so interpreted as to convey 
 to strangers an impression altogether erroneous respecting 
 Dr. Payson's general manner of exercising the ministry. He 
 was a stanch friend to the " good old way," and generally 
 adhered to it in the discharge of ministerial duties : his devia- 
 tions 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 ex- 
 travagance of his measures. The new aspect which his so- 
 ciety 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 prov- 
 idential event and every noticeable fact in the circumstances 
 of his people, as a means of enforcing truths and duties of im- 
 mediate and indispensable importance. His very few direct 
 deviations from the regular course, particularly calling upon 
 the congregation to rise, though adopted from a full convic- 
 tion, at the time, that the crisis demanded them, seem to have 
 been viewed by him afterwards as of rather questionable expe- 
 diency, as is evident from the apology which the reader has 
 already seen, under date of Feb. 21, 1815, and from an allu- 
 sion yet to be seen, in his diary, where he characterizes them 
 as " extraordinary, and perhaps imprudent measures." A fre- 
 quent resort to them he most certainly would not justify ; for 
 he makes their defence to rest on the extraordinary circum- 
 stances of the case, and on the fact that he adopted them " af- 
 ter 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 219 
 
 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 v/ord 
 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 evan- 
 gelists. 
 
 The feelings which prompted and sustained his restless ac- 
 tivity for the glory of God and the salvation of men, very fre- 
 quently disclose themselves in his correspondence and diary : 
 
 ''December 26, 1S21. 
 
 *' 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 grati- 
 tude 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 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 re- 
 joice and be grateful when she is filled full of divine consola- 
 tion. 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 to- 
 gether, and all the time full of joy and thankfulness ; and I 
 have seen the same persons afterwards, when they were sur- 
 rounded by temporal mercies, show very little of either. 
 Things seem to be a little on the mending hand; and the 
 
220 MEMOIR OF 
 
 church are again beginning to hope for a revival. Last Sab- 
 bath 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 v/ould 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 expos- 
 tulate, and plead, 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 per- 
 sons 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. SI, 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 221 
 
 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 bless- 
 ing will follow it." 
 
 " May 2, 1825. 
 
 '' I returned last week on Wednesday, preached a prepara- 
 tory lecture on Thursday, attended the church quarterly fast 
 on Friday, prepared for the Sabbath on Saturday, and, yester- 
 day, preached twice, administered the sacrament, and address- 
 ed and prayed with the baptized youth. The consequence is 
 that I am only half alive this morning. L. and a young lady 
 who boards with us were very much affected by the address 
 to baptized youth. They wept all the last evening, and ap- 
 pear very solemn this morning ; but L. has so often been af- 
 fected 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 1 cannot but hope she will, ere long, 
 become a subject of grace. 
 
 " In a religious view, things remain with us very much as 
 they have been, though I think the church, or some of them, 
 at least, are becoming more alive than they were. I have 
 lately had some delightful meditations on the priesthood of 
 Christ. I was led to them by thinking how a penitent Israel- 
 ite 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 /br 
 me ; he burns incense for me ; he enters the most holy place, 
 and sprinkles atoning blood for me. In him I am accepted, 
 19* 
 
222 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 accept- 
 ed 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, 
 but 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 wea- 
 risome, terrible conflict ! Your trials and sufferings are al- 
 most ended, and the blessed fruit of them is all to come." 
 
 These extracts furnish specimens of his zeal, and his vari- 
 ous methods of exerting himself for the promotion of religion 
 at different periods of his ministry ; but it would be doing 
 him great injustice to leave any room for the inference that 
 the intervals between these dates were seasons of relaxation 
 or indolence. 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 declen- 
 sion of those around him, his ardor in religion, and his exer- 
 tions for its advancement, suffered no visible abatement. On 
 e contrary, the darkest times were those in which he was 
 ninently "jealous for the Lord of hosts," a living witness to 
 the power of divine grace, and a living reproof to such as ' had 
 gone away backward.' When he saw his fellovv^ men indiffer- 
 ent 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 Re- 
 deemer'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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 223 
 
 Standard of attainment with ordinary men in their most favor- 
 ed 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 
 v/as a time, during his whole ministry, when he was not ar- 
 dently desirous, and, to the extent of his ability, actively labo- 
 rious, for the conversion of sinners, the fact was not observa- 
 ble by his people, nor even by his most intimate friends. 
 
 He loved his work : when not exhausted by fatigue, or de- 
 pressed by illness, he was specially fond of the exercise of 
 preaching so much so, that he considered it no favor for a 
 way-faring brother to offer to supply his place, gratuitously, on 
 a Sabbath. He felt, to use his own comparison, about as 
 much obligation 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 his in- 
 variable 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 vari- 
 ous in other respects. He seldom selected a text without ref- 
 erence to the known circumstances of his church and congre- 
 gation ; and so wakeful and diligent was he, " to kngw the 
 state of his flock," that he scarcely ever failed in the adapta- 
 tion 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 v/ho, " having himself suffered, being tempted, 
 knoweth how to succor them that are tempted." For him the 
 crucified Son of God had incomparable attractions. He saw 
 in Christ that kind, sympathizing, all-powerful High Priest, 
 who was suited to the wants of which he felt so deeply con- 
 scious. And he always came to this sacred feast with a soul 
 full of tenderness, and dwelt on the love of a suffering Saviour 
 
224 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 communi- 
 cants. 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 dis- 
 tinctly and affectingly exhibited, as to excite the correspond- 
 ing emotions in all hearts which were not harder than the 
 nether mill-stone. Those who could sympathize with the ad- 
 ministrator, while contemplating 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 O how hateful 
 was sin made to appear ! how loathsome ! how heartily was it 
 renounced ! how fervently its future commission deprecated ! 
 and then the renewed and unreserved dedication of soul and 
 body to God, as a living, holy, acceptable, and reasonable 
 sacrifice ! " How sweet and awful was the place," while seal- 
 ing their vows, and Christ his pardons, with the consecrated 
 symbols of his body and blood ! How precious was the com- 
 munion of saints with Jesus, and with one another ! To hun- 
 dreds 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 impres- 
 sive appeals, usually detained a great number who were not 
 communicants. The spectators were as numerous as the 
 guests ; and what they heard and witnessed was not unfre- 
 quently the means of conviction. 
 
 This, too, was his chosen occasion to impress on 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 many 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 val- 
 uable hint from his practice ? 
 
 The church fasts and conferences, when conducted by the 
 pastor, were, next to those of the communion, the most hum- 
 ble, melting, edifying, and instructive seasons which his high- 
 ly favored flock enjoyed. Here he employed his faith, his 
 imagination, and the various resources of his richly furnished 
 
EDV^^ARD PAYSON. 225 
 
 mind, to show them their actual condition, and urge them for- 
 ward 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 religious 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 : 
 
 '' 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 up, 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 Iws light. Otii- 
 ers, 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, be- 
 yond these, but yet within the life-giving rays, includes a doubt- 
 ful multitude, many of w^hom 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 doubt- 
 ful 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 things, 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 
 
226 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 a revival, he mentioned, as 
 dangers to be guarded against, and as causes of the suspension 
 of divine influences, 
 
 1. ^' Christians, in times of refreshing from the presence 
 of the Lord, are apt to be so much taken up in conversing and 
 laboring with sinners, that, from concern for the souls of oth- 
 ers, 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. " Christians are in danger, when a revival has continu- 
 ed 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 frequent 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, that there is so much animal excitement mixed with them. 
 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 con- 
 secration to the priesthood, instead of taking holy fire, with 
 wjiich to burn incense, took strange, that is, common fire, and 
 were punished by immediate death for their presumption. To 
 us this may appear a slight offence. We may think one fire 
 equally good with another. But our God is a jealous God, and 
 we must make our offerings in the manner he has commanded, 
 and with a right spirit, or they will be an offence in his sight, 
 and he will not accept them." 
 
 Mr. Payson was never more happy than when guiding in- 
 quirers to *' the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 227 
 
 world.' ^ Some of the " similitudes," by which he endeavored 
 to illustrate the nature of experimental religion, and assist in- 
 quirers 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 in 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 some 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 relmquish 
 what they had thought of so much value, and, finally, emptying 
 their vessels of this rubbish, and recAing the water, they 
 quench their thirst. Thus it is with sinners : Jesus Christ in- 
 vites them to come to him, the Fountain of living waters. But 
 they decline his invitations their hearts being filled with the 
 treasures of earth. They do not thirst for Christ till God 
 takes away the love of this world and its vanities, and the 
 Holy Spirit fills them with desire to come to him. Then they 
 hunger and thirst after righteousness, and are prepared to re- 
 ceive Christ." 
 
 " Were a man suddenly precipitated into the sea, and, after 
 making ineffectual struggles to save himself, to give up all for 
 lost should he at this crisis perceive a boat approaching, and 
 a friendly hand extended for his rescue, he would, at first, 
 scarcely credit his senses, or realize that he was safe ; his joy 
 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 wis- 
 dom apparent in its construction, and its admirable adapted- 
 ness for saving from death all who were in his late situation, 
 than he would when he viewed it merely as the means of sa- 
 ving his own life. So the sinner, when first he finds himself 
 rescued from destruction, is full of love to Christ for his pecu- 
 liar and unmerited mercy to himself But as he increases in 
 knov/ledge 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," 
 
228 MEMOIR OF 
 
 '^ Suppose two persons equally desirous to gain your affec- 
 tions 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 memen- 
 tos of his affection, to read his letters, and pour out your heart 
 in return. Such is now your case ; the world is always before 
 you, to flatter, promise, and please. But if you really prefer to 
 love God, you will fix your thoughts on him, often retire for 
 meditation and prayer, and recount the pleasant gifts of his 
 providence, and especially his infinite mercy to your soul ; you 
 will read frequently his holy Word, which is the letter he has 
 sent you, as really as if it were directed to you by name.'' 
 
 ** Religion is the m)lden chain, which God lets down from 
 heaven, v/ith a linkjlr 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 link- 
 ed to one whom you disliked, and drawn by him whitherso- 
 ever 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. How- 
 ever 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 ?" 
 
 To an inquirer, who complained that the difliculties in his 
 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 sensi- 
 ble 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, 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 229 
 
 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, howev- 
 er, 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 w^ould 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 dia- 
 mond 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 it aside, and begin to ad- 
 mire and extol the statue. This idol represents self, and ev- 
 ery 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 lon^g 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 because he sees 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 ttvo hundred pounds ; and thus he keeps gradually 
 giving up a little more, until he gets to nine hundred ; there 
 20 
 
230 MEMOIR OF 
 
 he stops a long while. At length, finding there is no other 
 way of escape, he acknowledges the whole debt, and is releas- 
 ed. Still it would be free, unmerited kindness in the creditor, 
 and the poor man would have no right to say, " I partly deser- 
 ved 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 
 would do any thing to buy it, but v/il? "lot take it without mon- 
 ey and without price. Suppose that you were very sick, and 
 were told by the physician, that there was but one medicine in 
 the world which could save your life, and that this was exceed- 
 ingly 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." 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 231 
 
 *' The young convert, in judging of the reality of his conver- 
 sion, generally lays much stress upon having a great deal of 
 joy ; and regards that as a very decisive proof that he is a dis- 
 ciple of Christ. But this is one of the most fallacious proofs, 
 and no dependence ought to be placed on it. It is not desira- 
 ble, at first, to have full assurance of our salvation, for our love 
 is then weak ; and some degree of fear is likevi^ise 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 ac- 
 cepting the offer, he says, " No ; I will not have you to help me 
 out ; I wish som.e 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 ^11 his efforts unsuccess- 
 ful, he practically 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 gener- 
 ally 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 holi- 
 ness of the law which he has broken, and God's justice in pun- 
 ishing 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 indi^scriminately, he would thus destroy the hap- 
 piness of all his faithful subjects, and introduce misery and 
 confusion into his kingdom. But infinitely worse consequen- 
 
232 MEMOIR OF 
 
 ces 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 nev- 
 er 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, and 
 he sees the fire blazing out and consuming every thing within 
 its reach, his confidence fails. At first, a small degree of faith 
 enables the Christian to go to God ; but as he advances in the 
 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-r-begins to 
 think that he may now venture to walk by himself, and conse- 
 quently 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 233 
 
 born, such a thing had never been heard or thought of; but 
 that all beings had united in loving and serving God, till, all 
 at once, you started up, and began to disobey his commands. 
 What a commotion would be excited ! Instantly the news 
 would spread through heaven and earth, with inconceivable 
 rapidity, and all ranks and orders of beings would join in ex- 
 claiming, " It cannot be ! Where is the wretch, who would 
 dare to disobey Jehovah?" Suppose, then, that you were obli- 
 ged to come forward and stand in the view of the assembled 
 universe of myriads of sinless beings, who all regarded you 
 with feelings of astonishment, horror, detestation, too strong for 
 utterance. How inexpressibly dreadful would sin appear in 
 this point of view ! And yet it is, in reality, just as dreadful 
 and as criminal to sin now, as if no sin had ever been commit- 
 ted 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 dis- 
 gusted. In the same manner, when God, by his Spirit, visits 
 the true Christian, it fills him with joy and gladness ; his pres- 
 ence is life ; and when he hides his face, nothing can afford 
 pleasure or satisfaction. But when thoughts of God enter the 
 mind of the sinner, he feels uneasy, and tries to get rid of them. 
 He may, from selfish motives, affect to seek God ; but his 
 heart is not in it, and he longs after the pleasures of the world. 
 This is the way in which all awakened, yet impenitent sin- 
 ners 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 Ions: story 
 20 * 
 
234 MEMOIR OF 
 
 of my wants, and asked him to help me." You can see how 
 absurd this appears ; and yet it is precisely similar to our con- 
 duct, 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." 
 
 *^ 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 proc- 
 lamation, 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 '* But I am afraid I am not hungry enough." In 
 the same way do sinners deprive themselves, by their own fol- 
 ly, of those blessings which are freely offered them by their 
 Creator.' ' 
 
 " Suppose the rebellious subjects of a very wise and good 
 king condemned to death. The king has a son, Vvho, from 
 compassion to these poor wTetches, 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 his son, shall be for- 
 given 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 Me- 
 diator, and commanded all to approach in his name ; and none 
 can expect to be received, who do not come to God in this ap- 
 pointed 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 235 
 
 all disposition to make excuses is taken away. The repen- 
 tant sinner 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." 
 
236 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 publi- 
 cations. 
 
 If there is a spectacle on earth peculiarly animating to the 
 thoughtful Christian, who waits and prays for the salvation of 
 God, it is tlie faithful, affectionate pastor, with the Bible in his 
 hand, surrounded by the " lambs of his flock," and leading 
 them into " green pastures, and beside the still waters." It 
 cannot be witnessed without a thrill of unusual delight, and 
 anticipations of the most cheering character. There may be 
 more of immediate personal enjoyment in the communion of 
 saints, and in that foretaste of an eternal feast, which is grant- 
 ed to the redeemed of the Lord, when, gathered around the 
 sacramental board, they glory in the cross, and celebrate the 
 love of Him who died on it, and their faith anticipates the 
 hour when they " shall see Him as he is," and come to the. 
 heavenly Zion, and commence their everlasting song. But the 
 same principle, which causes *' joy in heaven over one sinner 
 that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, 
 who need no repentance," is eminently a principle of benevo- 
 lence, which is gratified with every prospect of increase to the 
 " great multitude whom no man can number ;" and it is called 
 into action, and operates with no ordinary eifect, 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 
 reap. It is among this class of his charge, that he may emi- 
 nently " sow in hope." The promises of God authorize him 
 to expect extensive and glorious results. It was upon the 
 youth that Mr. Payson expended some of his best exertions ; 
 and these labors brought him a " harvest of golden sheaves." 
 
 His heart was drawn towards the rising generation, and 
 meditated various expedients for advancing their welfare. He 
 does, indeed, record and lament, among his deficiencies, the 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 237 
 
 neglect of special efforts for their instruction and salvation. 
 But, compared with what had been the ordinary standard of 
 ministerial practice, he abounded in works of this description. 
 Though, from the first, he did not fail to give them appropri- 
 ate instruction, yet it was not till the latter years of his minis- 
 try, 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 sub- 
 joined specimens were furnished by young persons, to v/hom 
 they were blessed : 
 
 " A way-faring man stops at a tavern, and, to beguile the 
 time of his stay there, looks round for some book. He sees, 
 perhaps, a newspaper, an almanac, and the Bible ; but chooses 
 to pore over either of the former, in preference to the Word 
 of God, thinking it hardly possible to be amused or interest- 
 ed in that. Even a Christian will sometimes do thus. This 
 is as if a man should be introduced into an apartment, in one 
 division of which were Jesus Christ and his apostles, and in 
 the other the most dissolute and frivolous company ; and, on 
 being invited by the Saviour to sit with them and enjoy their 
 company, should refuse, and seat himself with the others. 
 Would not this be a most gross insult to the Saviour 1 and dg 
 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 1" 
 
 " God holds out to you, as it were, a thread, no stronger 
 than a spider's web, and says '* Take hold of this 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 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 interest to its consumma- 
 tion, 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 is a 
 God : 
 
 ^' Suppose, my young friends, that, in travelling through a 
 wilderness, a spacious garden should burst upon your view, in 
 
238 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 machine- 
 ry 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 intelli- 
 gent agent? And if you should be told, that the palace came 
 there by chance, and that all the movements you witnessed 
 were caused by no power whatever, you would regard him, 
 who should tell you thus, either as a fool or a liar. Now, you 
 have the same proof of the existence of God in his works, that 
 you would have, in the case I have supposed, of the existence 
 and presence of some invisible agent ; and it is just as unrea- 
 sonable 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 writ- 
 ing 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, 
 sind how fearful of displeasing these 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 ad- 
 dressed 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 haunted, if I may so express it, haunt- 
 ed 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 con- 
 stantly 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 presumptuous, to speak of such poor, sinful, 
 worthless beings as we are, as glorifying, or as capable of glo- 
 rifying 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 per- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 239 
 
 fectly 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 filHng 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 
 replies " 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 the 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. Be- 
 sides all these, there are the sins of omission, or duties neg- 
 lected, which swell to a still greater amount. There are more 
 than fifty commands binding upon you everf 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, fifi;y sins in a moment. Add to these the first mention- 
 
240 MEMOIR OF 
 
 ed class of transgressions, and, O, 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 any part of 
 the work for which he was created ? No." 
 
 One of his most acceptable methods of communicating in- 
 struction, and exciting a religious interest, was by visits to the 
 families of his parishioners ; and, though he speaks of himself 
 as living extempore, they will cheerfully give him credit for sys- 
 tem in this branch of duty. It was a custom w^hich he com- 
 menced almost simultaneously with his ministry, to give notice 
 from the pulpit, that the families in a particular district, or 
 street, might expect him at a given time, in the course of the 
 following week, and to request, that, if consistent with their 
 engagements, they w^ould 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 
 proceed, 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 relig- 
 ious conversation and prayer. He could say much in a short 
 time, and never failed to * divide a portion to every member' 
 capable of receiving it. His *^ often infirmities" compelled 
 him to 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, neces- 
 sarily, very numerous. 
 
 He did not decline occasional invitations to evening parties, 
 as he had given his people to understand, that he desired none 
 to send for him, who did not wish him to come as a minis- 
 ter of Christ. In this character, how^ever, 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 Mas- 
 ter's claims ; and when he had obtained the ground, he was 
 certain not to yield it indeed, none could wish to dispossess 
 him. The subject which he so naturally and easily introduc- 
 ed, he would expatiate upon, and illustrate, and hold the lis- 
 tening company in fixed and solemn attention, from one to 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 241 
 
 three hours. Here were witnessed some of the most enrap- 
 turing and powerful strains of his sacred eloquence. A visit- 
 ing party, whose conversation was conducted by him, had all 
 the advantage of a religious meeting in the article of instruc- 
 tion, and fell scarcely short in solemnity. To him it was of- 
 ten as laborious as a public lecture, as it regards both prepara- 
 tion and the exercise of speaking. He usually commenced 
 and closed the interview by prayer. 
 
 It is obvious how much such a manner of conducting social 
 visits must tend to cultivate and cherish a religious spirit in 
 society. Every one has observed, that, as they are often con- 
 ducted, a single visit supplies matter for a month's gossip and 
 scandal evils which infect not only the individuals who were 
 present, but their families and associates. But social inter- 
 course, conducted on Christian principles, precludes these and 
 similar evils, besides effecting positive good. The party sepa- 
 rate with salutary impressions upon their minds, and carry 
 more or less of a holy savor into their respective families. 
 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 
 Vv^hich 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 ex- 
 tend 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 
 cafled, 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 antici- 
 pated almost every possible circumstance in their future histo- 
 ry with that reverent particularity, in which he was, perhaps, 
 unrivalled ; and in such select, appropriate, and vivid expres- 
 sions, as gave the very walls of the habitation a tongue that 
 has not since ceased to speak. The thought, that it is a con- 
 secrated house, is suited to check all tendencies to sinful levi- 
 ty. 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 
 21 
 
242 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 revi- 
 ved ; 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 ear- 
 nestly seek their salvation." 
 
 A circumstance which gave to his company one of its most 
 attractive charms, was his great condescension and affability, 
 which entirely relieved the interlocutors of all embarrassment. 
 No matter how awkwardly or defectively they expressed their 
 difficulties, or proposed their queries it was enough for him 
 that he knew their meaning. He took no advantage of these 
 defects, to mortify them and show off his own superiority ; he 
 never asked them to repeat and ^^ define precisely what they 
 wanted," a chilling practice with some affectedly wise and 
 accurate men, which must effectually silence the weak and 
 illiterate, and cut off from them all hope of improvement : 
 he took this labor upon himself If he perceived them, in 
 danger of embarrassment, he would interpose and help them 
 out. The most broken and imperfect expressions were suffi- 
 cient 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 w^itness almost intuitive ; 
 and he was equally prompt to apply the appropriate counsel. 
 It was from ignorance of his power of perception, in this re- 
 spect, that some have spoken of his inquiry meetings, during 
 the latter half of his ministry, as more properly entitled to the 
 appellation 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, how- 
 ever conducted. The truth is, besides watching the individ- 
 ual 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 bod- 
 ily 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 prov- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 243 
 
 identially 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 law- 
 yer of Portland, who ranked among the first in the place for 
 wealth, and was very fluent withal, will serve to show Mr. 
 Payson's ihsight 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 con- 
 quests 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 ten- 
 der an invitation, was the great difficulty. He had been ac- 
 customed 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. Pay- 
 son'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 sum- 
 moned 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 al- 
 ternately. The lawyer, not long before, had returned from 
 Washington city, where he had spent several weeks on busi- 
 ness at the supreme court of the United States. Mr. Payson 
 instituted some inquiries respecting sundry personages there, 
 and, among others, the chaplain of the house of representa- 
 tives. 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 
 
244 MEMOIR OF 
 
 than he did to his Maker." Mr. Pay son was very happy to 
 see him recognise the distinction between praying to God and 
 praying to be 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 un- 
 welcome, he strove to divert the conversation, and, every few 
 minutes, would start something as wide from it as the east is 
 from the west. But, as often as he wandered, his guest would 
 dexterously, and without violence, bring him back ; and, as 
 often as he was brought back, he would wander again. At 
 length the trying moment which was to turn the scale arrived. 
 The time for the evening repast had come ; a servant had en- 
 tered with the tea and its accompaniments ; the master of the 
 feast became unusually eloquent, resolved to engross the con- 
 versation, 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. 
 Pay son 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 rever- 
 end 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 viola- 
 tion of a fixed purpose. The chagrin of this disappointment, 
 however, eventually became the occasion of his greatest joy. 
 His mind was never entirely at ease till he found peace in 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 245 
 
 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 com- 
 mon, with the whole circle of the sciences so much so, that 
 eminent men, of the different professions, who have incident- 
 ally 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 phy- 
 sician, 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 Rees's Cyclopedia, and read the num- 
 bers, generally throughout, as they successively issued from 
 the press. He has been reputed a great novel reader; but 
 this report, as it would be naturally understood, misrepresents 
 him.. He expended little money ^or time on books of this class, 
 after having turned his attention to the ministry. He knew 
 something of every fictitious work which was introduced into 
 the place ; but this knowledge was gained, perhaps, in an 
 hour's time, in some retired corner of a book-store, which was 
 kept by one of his parish. He had good reasons for knowing 
 what kind of books circulated among his people, and especially 
 if any of them were immoral in their tendency. If he read 
 them on his own account, it was for mere relaxation, from 
 which his vigorous and well-balanced mind derived strength 
 and freshness for more solid pursuits. 
 
 His own views of a proper 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 : 
 
 " It may be proper, and perhaps advantageous, for a Chris- 
 tian to read, sparingly, works of taste. History he ought to 
 read, and biography. 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 knowl- 
 2] * 
 
246 MEMOIR OF 
 
 edge which expands, strengtliens, 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 read- 
 ing. 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 knowl- 
 edge, then, is to increase our power of doing good. Highly 
 as I prize such writers as Fenelon, Kempis, &.C., I am con- 
 vinced 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 
 v/hich 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 cher- 
 ished a very low estimate of his own qualities as a writer, and 
 could rarely be persuaded to submit a production for publica- 
 tion. 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 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 the press ; and the myriads of 
 copies, which have been put in circulation, show in what man- 
 ner 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 : 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 247 
 
 " May 2, 1814. Mond. 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 favor- 
 ed with considerable assistance. Felt, I hope, some thankful- 
 ness. But all my prayers for assistance, as well as my thank- 
 fulness 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 assem- 
 bled ; made a few observations to them, but was much strait- 
 ened. 
 
 " 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 difficul- 
 ty. 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 as- 
 cribe 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 compel- 
 led, sadly against my will, to give into the hands of the printer. 
 It is a discourse lately delivered before the Bible Society. 
 Fifteen 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 pa- 
 rents, 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 v/ithout it.'' 
 
248 MEMOIR OF 
 
 A very excellent Thanksgiving Sermon was also given to 
 the public, in 1820, for a similar reason, viz. a promise, 
 which was amply fulfilled, that it should be made to produce 
 something for missionary purposes. 
 
 His " Address to Seamen" was the next in order of his pub- 
 lications. Men, affecting considerable pretensions to litera- 
 ture, 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 fash- 
 ionable 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 sin- 
 gle nautical term whose application involved a misconception 
 of its use. As a model, it would be dangerous to imitate it 
 the attempt, indeed, would be ridiculous. But if it is not a 
 good address, the public is strangely erroneous in its " taste," 
 and the effect which it 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 ex- 
 tent past computation. It has been translated into some of 
 the languages of the old world, and pretty extensively circulat- 
 ed on the coasts of the Mediterranean, from the press at Mal- 
 ta. And, if report be true, some divines of the mother coun- 
 try have not thought it disgraceful to claim a parental relation 
 to it. Still it was no labored production ; it was happily con- 
 ceived, 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, though 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 caus- 
 ed faith to revive. 
 
 " Oct. 24. Was better to-day ; and wrote almost the whole 
 of an address to seamen, to be delivered Sabbath evening. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 249 
 
 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 ena- 
 bled to rejoice in the Lord. 
 
 " Oct. 26. Was assisted to-day in writing, and had a pre- 
 cious season in prayer. 
 
 " Oct. 27. Sick to-day a violent head-ache, with some fe- 
 ver. 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. Sah. 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- 
 frain from shouting aloud for joy. Was assisted in praying 
 for others ; yet had no assistance in public prayer or preach- 
 ing. 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 hare 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, daring that time, had to prepare and preach six 
 
250 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 pub- 
 lish 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 
 God" a much more labored production than either of his 
 other published discourses, and yet, for some cause, it has 
 been far less popular. Besides these, he furnished one or two 
 manuscript sermons for the National Preacher, which appear- 
 ed soon after his decease. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 251 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 His exertions without the hounds of his parish Influence on 
 his ministerial associates ; in resuscitating and edifying oth- 
 er churches Visits '^ The Springs^' Effect of his example, 
 conversation, and prayers on other visiters 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, di- 
 rection, energy, to public institutions for enlightening the hu- 
 man species, alleviating its sufferings, and extending the em- 
 pire of holiness. It is, indeed, no slight honor to be permit- 
 ted 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 bless- 
 ed in the place of his residence, and whom it was his happi- 
 ness 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 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 la- 
 bors 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 
 
252 MEMOIR OF 
 
 flowed from his conscientious and ever watchful regard, wher- 
 ever 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 ex- 
 pense 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 in- 
 fluence which ought to be ascribed to each ; though all, prob- 
 ably, 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 minis- 
 terial 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 be- 
 longed, though often prevented by the frequent recurrence of 
 his agonizing " head-ache," and by duties at home, which he 
 could not dispense with, was highly valued by a majority of 
 his brethren. He was a strong advocate for devoting the first 
 part of the time occupied by such meetings, to social prayer. 
 Prayer was his own preparation for every duty ; and he felt it 
 to be equally important, that it should be a common prepara- 
 tion 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 refer- 
 ence to the occasion and its consequences. In ministers^ 
 meetings, whether the immediate object were mutual edifica- 
 tion, or a solution v/ere requested of cases of conscience, and 
 other difficulties which often arise in the discharge of the sa- 
 cred office, or trying cases of discipline were presented for ad- 
 visement, he was always ready to speak in his turn, and al- 
 ways spoke to the purpose. A topic seldom passed him with- 
 out fi-esh 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 engage- 
 ments would not permit him to repeat. The nature of the 
 services alluded to will be seen by an extract : 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 253 
 
 " Portland, Jan. 1, 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 intempe- 
 rate 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 com- 
 menced 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. How- 
 ever, 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 any thing 
 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 
 almost all were solemn. One old man of seventy, among the 
 wealthiest in the place, who has always been against doing 
 any thing towards the settlement of a minister, was very deeply 
 impressed, and has promised to give three hundred dollars to- 
 wards 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. But this is not 
 all. I came home thoroughly drenched by the shower of di- 
 vine 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 
 
254 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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, prevail- 
 ed, 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 the place, 
 where he still remains, a useful laborer in the vineyard of 
 Christ. Such were the results of one short missionary ex- 
 cursion. 
 
 About three years later, by particular request, he spent a 
 week in another town, where some religious attention had 
 commenced. It was a season of great solemnity. At his sug- 
 gestion, 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 to his people. His 
 wife followed his example, and was succeeded by the members 
 of the church. During this visit, Mr. Payson preached thir- 
 teen 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, that he thought he might have exerted himself till he 
 expired, without knowing that he needed rest." Of five per- 
 sons, the fruits of this revival, who were propounded to the 
 church at one time, four were above seventy years of age. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 255 
 
 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 ac- 
 ceptance, 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 his 
 vi^asted health. The mixed characters, collected together at 
 this place of fashionable resort, found him the judicious and 
 earnest advocate of his Master's cause. Here he was no less 
 bent on the ruling purpose of his heart, than when at home, 
 among his own favorite flock. A visiter from another state, 
 who took lodgings in the same house with himself, and pre- 
 served 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 ofTer 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 visiter above alluded to, that the time spent at the springs 
 would not appear so much like a blank, if he should be per- 
 mitted to do any thing for the cause of Christ This privilege 
 was granted him ; for many left that boarding-house with deep 
 religious impressions, produced through his instrumentality. 
 One young man, who had resolved on finding new lodgings, 
 because there was " so much praying" where he was, became 
 the subject of deep conviction, the very evening he expressed 
 such a determination. The gentleman, on whose authority 
 these facts are stated, observes of his prayers " They contain 
 a great deal of instruction, as well as devotion. He has a 
 happy faculty of making his prayers preachJ^ Yet, while his 
 conversation and prayers were so impressive, and so full of in- 
 struction 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, transpir- 
 ed in 1815. Of the impression produced by a subsequent 
 visit, some idea may be formed from the following letter, ad- 
 dressed to the compiler : 
 
 " East Windsor, Conn., Nov. 2, 1829. 
 
 "On his way to Niagara, Dr. Payson called at my 
 
 house, purposing 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 
 
256 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 infirn,i- 
 ties, and sighing for rest. 
 
 * =K= * * 
 
 " Speaking of his trials on one occasion, he observed to 
 me * I have needed, all along, to be under the discipline of 
 Heaven ; for nothing else could have kept me humble, and 
 saved me from perdition. I have ever been prone to depart 
 from God, and have been kept only by a constant effort of his 
 love. It seems to me, if God had not continually held the 
 rod over me, and hedged up my way, I should have escaped 
 from his hands, and been forever separated from his love.' I 
 expected, in answer to my inquiries, to hear of the victories 
 of his faith ; but he spoke only of the wonderful power of 
 God, which had kept him, and of his love to one so unworthy 
 and perverse. He spoke of his * fierce temptations,' and how 
 he had been delivered by the mere mercy of God, and won- 
 dered that God should concern himself about such a worm, 
 and that he did not leave him to be torn and devoured by 
 Satan. In all my conversations with this wonderful 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 hu- 
 mility 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 excel- 
 led 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 
 ^}oYy of the Lord shone around our tabernacle. He knew our 
 wants, and he expressed them in language simple and affect- 
 ing. 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 talk- 
 ed 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 com- 
 plaints of sin, and in fervent petitions for mercy, it has seemed 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. J57 
 
 as though the cloud of the divine presence covered the house- 
 hold, and the divine majesty was very near us. 
 
 " The only exercise Dr. Payson performed in public, while 
 with us, was the baptism of my youngest child. Some, who 
 heard his baptismal prayer, observed, afterwards, that the sub- 
 ject of infant baptism had never been exhibited to them in so 
 convincing and solemn a light, and that they had never been 
 so thoroughly impressed with the obligations of religious pa- 
 rents, and the covenant rights of their children. 
 
 " In the bosom of a private family, Dr. Payson hoped to 
 escape notice, and fmd rest from the vexations of company. 
 But he could not be long concealed ; his retreat was soon dis- 
 covered, and visiters thronged to see him. 
 
 " Our domestic circle was often enlivened by the presence 
 and the conversation of Dr. Payson. The children were not 
 unnoticed 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 di- 
 vert it. His conversations were, for the most part, of a reli- 
 gious cast. He seemed inclined to dwell on melancholy sub- 
 jects, and the strains of the mourning prophet suited him best. 
 Yet now and then would he dwell on the sublime and anima- 
 ting themes of religion ; and, when he began on an exalted 
 strain, he 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 oc- 
 casion, 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 world 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 suppo- 
 ses the light of God's countenance is pouring in upon the soul, 
 rendering him insensible to all his pains, and the soul is strug- 
 gling and panting to escape from the crumbling tenement, and 
 be at rest in the bosom of God. I can only give you the idea ; 
 it is impossible to reach his description. He seemed to dwell 
 in a spiritual world, and to be most conversant with spiritual 
 objects. This he 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 3 
 I will no more demand my tonsrue 
 
 22* 
 
258 MEMOIR OF 
 
 Till the gross organ, well refined, 
 :^ Shall trace the boundless flights of an unfettered mind, 
 
 P 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 An- 
 gels unawares. 
 
 " Respectfully yours, 
 
 ** Samuel W. Whelpley." 
 
 A short passage from a letter of condolence, addressed to 
 Mrs. Payson by a friend in Connecticut, will probably express 
 the common sentiment of the many thousands, who have lis- 
 tened 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 an 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 com- 
 panions of his journeys some of the striking observations, which 
 were drawn from him by the natural scenery that he witnessed, 
 by the various characters with whom he met, and the circum- 
 stances in which, at different times, he found himself But 
 his attempts, even with those from whom he had the greatest 
 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 
 powerful and abiding ; but no one has ventured to report par- 
 ticulars. The words, and, of course, the precise sentiments, 
 with numerous circumstances which rendered them peculiarly 
 seasonable, " like apples of gold in pictures of silver," are 
 lost beyond recovery, while their effect remains. The impulse 
 which he gave to other minds still keeps them in action, and 
 is still transmitted from mind to mind, while it is impossible 
 for them to tell how this impulse was first imparted. The 
 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 experi- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 259 
 
 ence. At the first visit which he ever received from Dr. Pay- 
 son, some allusion was made to the opinion which prevails 
 among Christians in common life, that ministers are in a situa- 
 tion peculiarly favorable to religious enjoyment, because their 
 profession leads them to be incessantly conversant with divine 
 truth. " This," said Mr. Payson, " is just as if a hungry man, 
 on entering the kitchen of a large victualling-house, and inhal- 
 ing 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 prin- 
 cipal 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 neces- 
 sary to preach ten times in eight days ;" which, added to the 
 fatigue of riding a great distance, proved too much for his 
 strength, and compelled him to relinquish the undertaking. 
 
 In the early part of 1819, he made a tour, confined chiefly 
 to Essex county, Mass., in behalf of the American Education 
 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 preach- 
 ing 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 success half the night.' His actual receipts, however, con- 
 stituted but a small part of the advantage which the society 
 
 * A little manuscript volume has fallen into my hands, in which one of Mr. 
 Pa3^son's hearers entered his texts from time to time, tog-ether 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 Amer- 
 ican 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 forme, 
 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 be refreshed.' " 
 Rom. XV. 3032. 
 
260 MEMOIR OF 
 
 realized as the consequence of his excursion. By such an ad- 
 vocate, its objects and its claims were favorably made known 
 to the community ; auxiliary societies were formed, and prom- 
 ises obtained from individuals of large donations. The amount 
 of good which he accomplished on this journey cannot be es- 
 timated 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 la- 
 bored 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 atten- 
 tion, and opened to his brethren new ways of awakening inter- 
 est in the subject of Christ, and his salvation. His prayers 
 produced the same impression which they always had on stran- 
 gers. An aged minister noticed the same quality in his pray- 
 ers, as did the lay visiter 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 io 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 most diflScult application. Some unhappy consequen- 
 ces, 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 may bring any gain to the church general, a minister 
 must do much more good in his new situation, than he did in 
 that which he left ; for it will require much to balance the cer- 
 tain evils, inseparable from his removal. When a pastor is es- 
 tablished in the affections and confidence of his flock, and is 
 laboring v/ith more than ordinary zeal and success, any inter- 
 ference from abroad must be regarded as a hazardous experi- 
 ment. There may be much of selfishness in the refusal of a 
 people to give up their minister ; but certainly not more than 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 261 
 
 tliero is in those who wish to obtain his services at their ex- 
 pense, and by whose soUcitations their feehngs are put to the 
 trial. Else, why does the choice of rich churches never fall 
 upon any but ministers of established popularity, or distinguish- 
 ed for their success ; while many others, equal, perhaps supe- 
 rior, 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 re- 
 sult 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 ap- 
 pointments. In ordinary cases, they can have little induce- 
 ment to act for any other than the general good ; and that will 
 be a dark day for our land, when these institutions, the nur- 
 series 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 tri- 
 al. When Park-street Church, in Boston, was left vacant by 
 the removal of Dr. Griffin, Mr. Payson's charge had unpleas- 
 ant apprehensions of losing their beloved pastor. It is in allu- 
 sion 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 
 wish " Boston folks" would be content with being " fuU of no- 
 tions" themselves, and not fill other people's heads with them.'' 
 It must greatly endear his memory to his surviving flock, to 
 learn from another letter what were his secret feelings in rela- 
 tion to this matter: " My people I never knew before how 
 much they loved me. I am amazed to see what an interest 
 God has given me in the affections of his people, and even of 
 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. 
 
202 MEMOIR OF 
 
 I feel very easy about it myself, but the church are in great 
 tribulation. Ever since it v^^as first talked of, I have taken 
 special care to avoid every thing which might tend, either di- 
 rectly or indirectly, to bring it about. If it comes, it shall be 
 none of my seeking." 
 
 Several years after this, he did, with the full consent of his 
 people, take up a temporary residence in Boston, and, during 
 the few weeks which he spent there, preached to crowded as- 
 semblies, and not without apparent effect. Though the work 
 which his friends there laid out for him was too much for his 
 strength, he was wearied with solicitations and entreaties to 
 visit and preach in the neighboring towns ; so anxious were 
 those who had once heard him, to secure for their friends and 
 neighbors a participation in the same privilege : and so confi- 
 dent were their hopes that he would be the instrument of awak- 
 ening a general concern for the soul, wherever he should ad- 
 dress to men the message with which he was intrusted. 
 
 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 cheer- 
 fully acceded. 
 
 In January, 1826, he received a unanimous call from the 
 church in Cedar-street, New York, to become their pastor. 
 This call he promptly, fully, and unequivocally declined. The 
 motives by which he was actuated, may be seen from a letter 
 to his mother, written a few days afterwards. All classes gave 
 him full credit for disinterestedness in his conduct on this oc- 
 casion. 
 
 '' 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 from 
 Boston, I could not do otherwise. If I had gone to either 
 place, I must have gone to Boston ; for I think the prospect of 
 usefulness there is greater, all things considered, than at New 
 York. Besides, I never would 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 rne, 
 would have been those of bitter disappointment and regret. It 
 is true that a removal to New York, vi^ere I fit for the place, 
 would, on many accounts, have been very gratifying. I felt 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 263 
 
 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 ben- 
 eficial 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 re- 
 proach 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 gov- 
 erned 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 re- 
 proachfully. 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, un- 
 less 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 ac- 
 cept 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 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, whether 
 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 in- 
 vitation, by the fact that he had so recently declined a call 
 from them passed a resolve, with a view to remove any diffi- 
 culties which that circumstance might have thrown in his 
 way, and wrote a letter, urging him to act just as he should 
 
264 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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. He was evidently much perplexed. On 
 the one hand, he feared " doing wrong, and oftending God, by 
 running before he was sent." On the other hand, the cir- 
 cumstances attending his reception of the call, * induced him 
 to believe that it might, possibly^ be the call of God ; and he 
 could not again decline it, until he had taken time for prayer 
 and deliberation.' " I have ample reason," he writes to the 
 commissioners who tendered the invitation, " to believe that 
 God placed me in my present situation ; and I must, there- 
 fore, be convinced that he calls me away, before I can consent 
 to leave it. That he does call me away, I am not yet con- 
 vinced ; though I admit it to be possible." 
 
 After having been long agitated by the perplexing ques- 
 tion, 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 val- 
 uable and useful life. On the other hand, they found difficul- 
 ties in the way of 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 prog- 
 ress towards conviction was arrested, and its purpose chang- 
 ed 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 thorough- 
 ly the experiment of riding on horseback, by making a jour- 
 ney through the interior of Maine, New Hampshire, Massa- 
 chusetts, and Connecticut, to New York city, and thence to 
 the Springs, where his mind was disturbed by a third applica- 
 tion to take the charge of Cedar-street church, accompanied 
 with most pressing letters and messages from clergymen and 
 others. Though this was declined without much hesitatioUj 
 yet, in the excitable state of his nerves, and his universal 
 weakness of body, it was injurious to his welfare, and, combin- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 265 
 
 ed 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. Whelp- 
 ley, with whom he took lodgings, " The peculiar trials of 
 mind he had passed through, in consequence of the invita- 
 tions 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." 
 
 The language ascribed to Mr. Payson, in the preceding ex- 
 tract, is descriptive of his own weakness, and expresses his set- 
 tled conviction of the desperate condition of his health, and 
 not any intended censure of the people who were so persever- 
 ingly solicitous to secure his services. He could fully appreci- 
 ate their motives. But they knew not how delicate and sus- 
 ceptible were his feelings ; nor did they know how nearly ex- 
 hausted in him were the springs of life. Doubtless their wish- 
 es had so far affected their judgment, as to create the confi- 
 dent 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 hav- 
 ing some control in the appointment, to say whether he would 
 accept a professorship in the Theological Seminary at Ando- 
 ver, if elected to the office. But he refused " at once, and 
 positively, on the score of not possessing the requisite quali- 
 fications. Had I been suitably qualified, I am not certain 
 that I should not have thought it my duty to go." 
 
 23 
 
266 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 promis- 
 cuous assembly, he was, if possible, still more so, in suiting 
 his counsels, instructions, and appeals, to the cases of individu- 
 als. 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 per- 
 sons variously situated and affected, which, though both in- 
 teresting and instructive, are far inferior in imagery, apposite- 
 ness, 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 1 feel so utterly powerless to do it. You say your- 
 self, that neither reason nor religion can restrain your tor- 
 menting imagination. What encouragement, then, have I to 
 attempt to comfort 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 m.ention the texts 
 which occasioned them ; texts on which I have preached late- 
 ly. Perhaps the great Comforter may apply them to you. If 
 so, you will little need any consolation which I can give. 
 The first is Isaiah xxvi, 20. The time of our continuance on 
 earth is but a moment ; nay, it is but a little moment. Sup- 
 pose, then, the worst. Suppose that all the evils which imagi- 
 nation can paint should come upon you. They will endure 
 only for a little moment; and, while this little moment is pass- 
 ing away, you may run and hide in the chambers of protec- 
 tion, which God has provided for his people, till the mansions 
 preparing for them above are ready for their reception. O, 
 then, my dear mother, glory in these afflictions, which endure 
 but for a moment, a little moment. O, how near, how very 
 near, is eternity. It is even at the door. 
 
 "New-year's Sabbath, I preached on this text, "As the 
 Lord liveth, there is but a step between me and death." One 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 267 
 
 inference was, there is but a step between Christians and heav- 
 en. So it has seemed to me almost ever since. Another text, 
 which J. have preached on lately, and which has been much 
 blessed to me, is Rev. xxi. 23. " And the city had no need 
 of the sun," &lc. O, how unutterably glorious did heaven ap- 
 pear ! It is glort/ : it is a weight of glory ; an exceeding iceight 
 of glory ; a/ar more exceeding weight of glory ; z.far more ex- 
 ceeding and eternal weight of glory. O, how shall we bear such 
 a weight of glory as this ! How shall we wait with patience till 
 we arrive at it ! O, it seems too much ; too boundless, too over- 
 whelming 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 righ- 
 teousness is this ? The righteousness of God ! A righteous- 
 ness 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.' 
 
 " 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 expe- 
 rience : 
 
 ** In your present situation, and for some time to 
 
 come, your greatest difficulty will be, to maintain the daily 
 
268 MEMOIR OF 
 
 performance of closet duties. On your maintaining that part, 
 the fate of the whole battle will turn. This your great adver- 
 sary 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 reenforce- 
 ments, 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. Some- 
 times 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 benefi- 
 cial. At other times, he will withdraw, and lie 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 war- 
 fare, to maintain the conflict, is to gain the victory. The 
 promise is made to him that endures to the end. The object 
 of our spiritual adversaries, then, is to prevent us from endur- 
 ing 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 eve- 
 ry 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 apos- 
 tasy. If you are thus kept, be thankful for it." 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 269 
 
 To a gentleman in a neighboring state, whose hospitality 
 he had enjojed while on a journey for his health, and who 
 has since yielded to the expostulations of his revered 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, ere this, the subject may have ceased to ap- 
 pear 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, and, of course, equally ig- 
 norant of what it requires ? I have been imploring that om- 
 niscient Being, who is perfectly acquainted with it, to guide 
 my pen, and lead me to write something which may prove ' a 
 word in season.' Should he grant me this, it would be a favor 
 indeed. 
 
 " Perhaps I ought to address you as a Christian. Perhaps 
 you have, ere this, become a cordial, decided disciple of Jesus 
 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 good- 
 ness, not speculatively, or by report merely, but experimental- 
 ly ; 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 re- 
 mains in 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 
 23* 
 
270 MEMOIR OF 
 
 man ; he would not send his only Son to perform works which 
 did not transcend the powers of an angel. Hence we may 
 infer, 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 Phy- 
 sician, and the costliness of the remedy, we may learn how 
 dangerous, how desperate, was the disease. Ordy 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. 
 
 " But 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 doc- 
 trines 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 should 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 ful- 
 ness 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 this 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 in- 
 terest 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 271 
 
 pleased to remember me respectfully and affectionately to Mrs. 
 
 . I have not forgotten her kindness. Our journey, after 
 
 we left you, was tolerably pleasant, but of little service to my 
 health. ***'* May we all meet in heaven, is the 
 frequent prayer of 
 
 " Yours sincerely." 
 
 To a distant lady, in whose piety he had full confidence, 
 but who was much discouraged respecting herself: 
 
 '^ My dear Mrs. . 
 
 " What a task you have imposed on me ! You require me 
 to write you a letter which shall make you feel, and yet you 
 tell me that the Bible, the letter which God himself has sent 
 to you from heaven, does not make you feel. If I believed 
 this to be the case, could I 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 that this mes- 
 sage 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 repentance. 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 con- 
 demns himself And he who can do this is prepared to em- 
 brace 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 over- 
 shadows 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 be- 
 fore 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 
 
272 MEMOIR OF 
 
 the Saviour, turning upon you a look full of invitation, benev- 
 olence, and compassion, says to you Fear not, Mary, to ap- 
 proach 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 
 j^our heart, he does, in effect, say to you ^ Blessed art thou, 
 Mary-Ann ; for flesh and blood have not revealed this unto 
 thee, but my Father, who is in heaven.' Blessed art thou, for 
 thou hast chosen the good part, and it shall never be taken 
 from thee. But perhaps you will say for you have to dispute 
 against yourself * I believe nothing, feel nothing, of all this.' 
 Let me, then, make another trial. St. Paul, speaking of an- 
 cient believers, says * If they had been mindful of the coun- 
 try 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 coun- 
 try, 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^!' " 
 
 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 :" 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 273 
 
 "My dear afflicted Parents, May^, 1818. 
 
 " 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 increas- 
 ed filial aftection, 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 broth- 
 er 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, 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 charac- 
 ter; and a young lady, who resided a few weeks in Mr. Rand's 
 family, speaks of her, every where, as the most faultless person 
 with whom she was ever acquainted. 
 
 " Many, many prayers have been offered up, both here and 
 at Gorham, that you may be supported and comforted, when 
 the tidings reach you ; and I hope and trust they will be an- 
 swered. Thanks be to God, that you are loved and blessed by 
 many who never saw you, on account of your children. Mr. 
 Rand feels great hopes that her loss will be blessed to his church 
 and people ; and that she will do more good in her death, than 
 she has done in her life ; and from what I saw at the funeral, 
 I cannot but indulge similar hopes. You will wish to know 
 how he bears the loss ; but I can hardly tell. When I saw 
 him, he had been in a state of confusion, and surrounded by 
 his 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 from home, were 
 to receive, with this letter, the afflicting intelligence of the 
 death of their only child : * 
 
 * Chrislian Spectator for March, 1830. 
 
274 MEMOIR OF 
 
 "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 
 which nature demands, and which religion does not forbid, has 
 been paid to the memory of your dear departed babe, I will at- 
 tempt to whisper a word of consolation. May the " God of all 
 consolation" make it such. Were I writing to parents who 
 know nothing of religion, I should indeed despair of affording 
 you any consolation. My task would be difficult indeed, nor 
 should I know what to say. I could only tell them of a God 
 whom they had never known, of a Saviour with whom they 
 had formed no acquaintance, of a Comforter whose consoling 
 power they had never experienced, of a Bible from whose rich 
 treasures they had never been taught to derive support. But 
 in writing to you, my only difficulty is of a very different kind. 
 It consists in selecting from the innumerable topics of consola- 
 tion contained in the Scriptures, those which are best adapted 
 to your peculiar situation. So numerous are they, that I know 
 not which to mention or which to omit. May God guide my 
 choice and direct my pen. It is needless, in writing to Chris- 
 tian parents, to you, to enlarge on the common topics of con- 
 solation. I need not tell you ivlw 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 resigna- 
 tion and submission, for you have long been learning them in 
 a painful but salutary school. And need I tell you that he 
 who inflicts your sufferings, knows their number and weight, 
 knows all the pain you feel, and sympathizes with you even as 
 you once sympathized with your dear babe ; for as a father 
 pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. 
 O think of this ; the pity, the parental pity, of a God. Who 
 would not willingly be afflicted to be thus pitied ! Go then, my 
 dear brother and sister, and lean with sweet confiding love up- 
 on the bosom of this pitying, sympathizing Friend ; there depos- 
 it 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 fflial affection. ** Now I know that 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 275 
 
 thou lovest me," said he to Abraham, " seeing thou hast not 
 withheld 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 insuffi- 
 cient 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 existence ; and if you have been the 
 means of bringing into being a little immortal, who had just 
 lighted on these shores, and then took her flight to heaven, you 
 have reason to be thankful ; for it is an honor and a favor. 
 Neither your existence nor your union have been in vain, since 
 you have been the instruments of adding one more blest voice 
 to the choirs above. But I must close. May God bless you, 
 support and restore you to us in safety, is the prayer of your 
 affectionate friend and pastor, 
 
 " Edward Payson." 
 
 A letter of counsel to a candidate for the ministry : 
 
 *' My dear Brother, * 
 
 " I rejoice to learn that you are in part released 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 ! /, 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 beaten into you by 
 painful experience ; and even then, you will probably forget 
 it in a tenth part of the timei which it took you to learn it. 
 
276 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 re- 
 mark 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 un- 
 willingness 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 attain- 
 ments 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, and very good, you will say, though some- 
 what 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 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 away with the money, and 
 another with the esteem, and a third with the applause, &c. 
 &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 difficul- 
 ties and sufferings vanish. But it is hard to say this. It is 
 
EDWARD PxlYSON. 277 
 
 almost impossible to persuade any man to renounce the race, 
 without cutting off his feet, or, at least, fettering him. This 
 God has done lor me ; this he has been doing for you. And 
 you will, one day, if you do not now, bless him for all your 
 sufferings, as I do for mine. I have not suffered one pang 
 too much. God was never more kind than when I thought 
 him most unkind ; never more faithful than when I was ready 
 to say, His faithfulness has failed. Let him fetter you, then, 
 if he pleases. Consent that he should cut off your feet, if he 
 pleases. Any thing is a blessing which prevents us from run- 
 ning the fatal race, which we are so prone to run ; which first 
 convinces us that we are nothing, and then makes us willing 
 to be so." 
 
 To an aged mother, suffering great anxiety on account of 
 the disheartened and comfortless condition of her son : 
 
 *' You give yourself too much trouble about P. After you 
 have prayed for him, as you have done, and committed him 
 to God, should you not cease to feel anxious respecting him ? 
 The command, *^ Be careful for nothing,'^ is unlimited ; and 
 so is the expression ** casting all your care upon him." If 
 we cast our 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 pray- 
 ers. If, after committing any thing to God, I can, like Han- 
 nah, come away, and have my countenance no more sad, my 
 heart no more pained, or anxious, I look upon it as one proof . 
 that I prayed in faith ; but, if I bring away my burden, I con- 
 clude that faith was not in exercise. If God has any work for 
 P. to do, he will cause him to do it. He made him, as he 
 made every thing 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 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 employ- 
 ed for ten years together in translating a pagan poet, is it any 
 wonder, that he should leave my little mind to be fettered and 
 crippled, and my time to pass away in a useless manner ? Af^ 
 24 
 
278 MEMOIR OF 
 
 ter all, I am treated more favorably than he was ; and I de- 
 sire 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 like to 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 af- 
 fection, forbid it. Yet I do not engage in such a correspond- 
 ence 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 sit- 
 uation 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 you 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 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 279 
 
 apprehend, have we advanced toward perfection. It ih com- 
 paratively easy to wait upon God, but to wait upon him o?dy, 
 to feel, so far as our strength, happiness, and usefulness are 
 concerned, as if all creatures and second causes were annihi- 
 lated, 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 espe- 
 cially 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 sin- 
 gle 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 exper- 
 iment. He, who shall make the first trial, will, I believe, ef- 
 fect 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 this trial. I 
 trust that you will find our Master is as really present in Pal- 
 estine as he was in the days of his flesh ; that you will some- 
 times enjoy his presence in the very places in which it was 
 formerly enjoyed by the apostles. We read that, on one occa- 
 sion, they '* returned to Jesus, and told him all things, both 
 what they had done, and what they had taught." If we were, 
 in like manner, to come to his feet every evening, and tell him 
 where we have been, what we have done, what we have said, 
 and what were our emotions through the day ; we should, I 
 believe, find it both pleasant and profitable. Perhaps he would 
 say to us, as he did to them. Come apart, and rest with me 
 awhile. May he often invite you to rest awhile with him, to 
 refresh you wVien 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. I may, however, mention, that the ministers in this 
 state agreed to observe the first day of the present year, as a 
 day of fasting and prayer. In consequence, we have had more 
 
280 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 Pales- 
 tine ; 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 mer- 
 cy 1 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, 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 disa- 
 greeable. Besides, no man is fit to rise up and labor, until he 
 is made willing to lie still and suffer as long as his Master 
 pleases. But I had almost forgot 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 approach, unless increasing 
 deadness is a sign. At the last union prayer meeting, I pro- 
 posed that all the churches should unite in observing a day of 
 fasting and prayer, and assemble in the morning at one meet- 
 ing-house, in the afternoon at another, and in the evening at 
 a third. No objection was made ; but it was thought best to 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 281 
 
 appoint a committee 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, 1 
 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 pa- 
 rochial cares press upon me, having just returned from a 
 journey, I must 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 of conflict, and must now 
 expect more distressing proofs of the desperate wickedness of 
 your heart, than you had before experienced. In another let- 
 ter, 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 cea^ 
 24* 
 
282 MEMOIR OF 
 
 struggling, because your struggles seem to avail nothing ; but 
 continue, like Gideon, though " faint, yet pursuing." Could 
 I tell you what bitter proofs I have had of my desperate, des- 
 perate depravity how often I have been brought to my wits' 
 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 stu- 
 pid in this situation, it would encourage me." And how, let 
 me ask, are you to learn that your heart is like the nether mill- 
 stone, except by being left for a time, to feel that nothing can 
 either melt or move it ? I do not, of course, mean to justify 
 or excuse this hardness of heart. It is a most abominable and 
 detestable evil, and I should be very sorry to say any thing 
 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 con- 
 ceived of, it is surely best that we should know it ; else, how 
 should we ever be duly grateful to our great Physician for heal- 
 ing us. Heal you he will, my dear brother, I doubt not ; but he 
 will first make you know how sick, how mortally sick you are. 
 In consequence, you will think more highly than ever of his kind- 
 ness, 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 recognised : 
 
 [^ My dear Mother, 
 
 *' I should sooner have answered your last, had I not expect- 
 ed, 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 
 bim on the subject is wrong. I know all about it. I have 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 233 
 
 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 lime 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 
 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 res- 
 idence, when H. moves. I thought that you might, perhaps, 
 feel unwilling to move so far as New York. I hope it is need- 
 less to tell my dear mother, that if she chooses to make her 
 home with us, we will do all in our povv^er to make her home 
 comfortable. I hope she will consult nothing but hier own in- 
 clinations. If her children can do any thing to make the re- 
 mainder of her days comfortable, I trust they all have a full 
 disposition to do it. She has only to say the word, and we 
 will place her where she thinks she will be most comfortable. 
 
 " You will be glad to hear that, for a few weeks, I have en- 
 joyed some respite from my sufferings. I observed 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 trembhng, desponding Christians, that, notwithstand- 
 ing all their great wickedness, they ought still to follow God 
 
284 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 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. Pay- 
 son's name to urge men to assume the sacred office without 
 the requisite qualifications, it ought to be slated, that the per- 
 son addressed in the following letter, besides possessing deci- 
 ded piety, had passed through a regular course of preparatory 
 studies at a theological seminary : 
 
 " My 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 re- 
 gard 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 com- 
 forts 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 will become 
 more difficult and painful ; your mind will be like the body of 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 285 
 
 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 hes- 
 itating. A feeble, nervous man must not deliberate, but act ; 
 for his deliberation will not be worth a straw, but his activity 
 may be, and probably will be, useful both to himself and 
 others. 
 
 " When Christ told his disciples to feed the multitude with 
 five loaves, they did not hesitate, and say. Lord, let us first see 
 the bread multiplied ; if we begin, and have not enough, we 
 shall be put to shame ; but they distributed what they had, 
 and it increased in 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 concep- 
 tion 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 very sorry to learn that your health is not better, but 
 rather worse, than when I was at R. Should it not have im- 
 proved before you receive this, I beg you will attend to it with- 
 out delay ; attend to it, as your first and chief duty ; for such, 
 be assured, it is. " A merciful man is merciful to his beast;" 
 and you must be merciful to your beast, or, as Mr. M. would 
 say, to your " animal." Remember that it is your Master's 
 property ; and he will no more thank you for driving it to death, 
 than an earthly master would thank a servant for riding a val- 
 uable horse to death, under pretence of zeal for his interest. 
 
286 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 experi- 
 ence. 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, in- 
 creased, rather than diminished his spirituality. 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, affec- 
 tionate 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 ex- 
 ercise the body gently, without wearying the mind. Above all, 
 make trial of the shower bath. You can easily fix up some- 
 thing which will answer the purpose. Try it, first, about ten 
 o'clock in the morning, when the weather is warm ; and if you 
 feel a glow after it, it does you good ; but if it occasions chilli- 
 ness, 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 
 of Judges, respecting the early part of Samson's life, which 
 suggests 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. He 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 feel- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 287 
 
 ings 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 
 found that religious instruction affects you very differently at 
 different times ? Sometimes, perhaps, it scarcely affects you at 
 all. At other times, the same truths take firm hold of your 
 attention, and excite your feelings. Now, what occasions this 
 difference ? It is this. At one time, the Spirit of God presses 
 home the truth upon your minds, and causes it to affect you. 
 At another time. He does not apply it, and then it produces no 
 effect. Our Saviour, you recollect, 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 con- 
 clude, at once, that the wind is blowing upon them. Just so, 
 when your minds are interested and affected in a serious man- 
 ner 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, ever- 
 lasting God condescend to send an angel from heaven to pro- 
 mote our welfare ? But for God to send His Spirit to move 
 upon your minds, is a much greater favor, a much greater act 
 of condescension, than it would be to send an angel to you. 
 O then, how 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 visiter! Are 
 you still favored with his visits ? Does he still move, at times, 
 upon your minds ? If so, be careful, O be scrupulously care- 
 ful, 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 be just, should He never return to me. Yet, 
 in thy great mercy, let Him return, and again move upon my 
 mind ; let Him come, and enlighten and sanctify me.' Let this 
 be your daily urgent request." 
 
288 JIEMOIR OF 
 
 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 afflic- 
 tions. 
 
 *' Dr. Owen says, that Heb. xii. 6 ought to be rendered, 
 " whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth ; yea, also, he severely 
 cJiastiseth, above the ordinary measure, those sons whom he 
 accepts, and peculiarly delights in.^' If this rendering be cor- 
 rect, and the doctor certainly makes it appear so, my pa- 
 rents have reason to think themselves special favorites. Per- 
 haps, for a short time before death, God's people may be, in a 
 measure, exempted from both inward and outward trials. 
 
 " I have tried to write, because your letter ought to be an- 
 swered, 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 pre- 
 served 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, a dangerous state, and calls for great watchfulness, 
 and much 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 pros- 
 perity upon the mind, resemble those of an unhealthy atmos- 
 phere upon the body. The constitution is gradually, and 
 almost insensibly, undermined and weakened ; and yet no par- 
 ticular part can be pointed out, as the seat of the disease, for 
 the poison is diffused through the whole system. Spiritual las- 
 situde, 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 289 
 
 which you may do much for the glory of God and the promo- 
 tion 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 disagreea- 
 ble, and even painful. But, as you said little or nothing on 
 the subject, I concluded that it did not appear equally unpleas- 
 ant 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, and God went with them ; and he will go Vv^ith you ; doubt 
 it not. On the other hand, see how he dealt with his enemies. 
 " Moab hath been at ease from his youth, and hath not been 
 emptied from vessel to vessel ; therefore his taste remaineth 
 in him, and his scent is not changed." You have not been at 
 ease from your youth, and you have been emptied from vessel 
 to vessel, and you are now to be emptied again from one vessel 
 to another. And surely this is better than to be treated like 
 Moab, and possess his character. Besides, as God said to Ja- 
 cob, 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 pecunia- 
 ry 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 *^*^*^ too, will be taken care of As 
 to ******** ^ I can only say, once more, Leave him with his 
 Master. He knows what to do with him, and he will do all 
 things well. If he chooses rather that ******** should suffer, 
 he will overrule all his sufferings for good. Only pray for him 
 and then leave him. 
 25 
 
290 3IEMOIR OF 
 
 " I preached yesterday on this passage : " Though he will 
 not give him because he is his friend, yet, because of his im- 
 portunity, he will rise and give him as many as he needeth." 
 This, as welt as the parable of the unjust judge, evidently 
 teaches, that importunate prayer will prevail when nothing 
 else can. A man may pray ten times, and be denied ; and 
 yet, by praying ten times more, obtain the blessing. Had the 
 Syro-Phoenician ceased, after making three applications to 
 Christ, she would have gone away empty ; but, by applying 
 once more, she obtained all that she asked. 
 
 " It has been a time 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 mer- 
 cy, 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 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 other, 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 brothers pretty well. Do tell them so. What you 
 say respecting the complaints of ministers who visit us, I have 
 heard before. I do not wonder at it. They have some reason 
 to complain. But the reason of our apparent coldness is what 
 you suppose it to be. Pressed down to the very dust, as I usu- 
 ally am, I cannot always dress my countenance in smiles, nor 
 prevent it from expressing my sufferings. Hence I am un- 
 popular among ministers. It is a trial, but I cannot help it " 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 291 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIl. 
 
 His pmvate character His affections and demeanor as a hus- 
 band, father^ master, friend His gratitude, economy, gen- 
 erosity 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 venera- 
 tion and respect are felt for them. This is true of some in 
 elevated stations, and possessing no small share of public con- 
 fidence. 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 dwell- 
 ing, making them the ministers of his will and pleasure, or 
 else imbittering their existence by his savage temper and un- 
 reasonable 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 impos- 
 ing description which originate in their domestic relations ; 
 that they are not only excusable, but disinterested and praise- 
 worthy, 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 specifica- 
 tion, 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 in- 
 terposed, the helping hand which love extends, the eye ever 
 awake to anticipate the little wants of the household, the heart 
 
292 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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, what sacrifice of public duty do these require ? 
 Yet who can calculate the misery which they prevent, or the 
 blessedness v/hich they confer ? As it is not great calamities 
 which render men unhappy, but petty injuries, and provoca- 
 tions, and disappointments, constantly recurring, too trifling 
 to excite public sympathy, or to be made the subject of loud 
 complaint, so it is not insulated acts of profuse generosity, 
 and widely separated, though extravagant expressions of affec- 
 tion, which constitute the reality or the happiness of friend- 
 ship especially of a friendship so pure and endearing as 
 ought ever to subsist between those who are united by conju- 
 gal ties. These holy bonds are cemented and strengthened 
 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 tenderness, so affecting and 
 impressive as that example of love to which St. Paul refers 
 the husband for a pattern of his own duty ? and it may be 
 added, what other reference could have conferred such exalt- 
 ed honor on the marriage relation ? " Husbands, love your 
 wives, even as Christ also loved the church. Be not bitter 
 against them." This was Dr. Payson's law in all that per- 
 tained to conjugal duties ; and to this his daily practice exhib- 
 ited as exact a conformity, perhaps, as is ever seen in this state 
 of imperfection. Reasons have already been suggested, why 
 a sparing use should be made of those letters which exhibit 
 his tenderness and fidelity in this relation ; but a few extracts 
 may with propriety be introduced : 
 
 ''At Sea, May 10, 1815. 
 'My dear WifE; 
 
 " As this is the first time I have had occasion to address a let- 
 ter 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 friend, 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 293 
 
 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 hus- 
 band,' than ' Dear friend,' or * Dear Edward,' 6lc. 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 
 ound 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 be- 
 hind 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 Monday 
 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 forty-eight hours. Since the gale on Sunday, the doc- 
 tor and I have been very sick, and able to eat nothing. For 
 two days 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. 
 I will, therefore, defer the conclusion of my letter till I am 
 more established. 
 
 ^^ Philadelphia, May 11. 
 
 " We arrived here last night, after a most delightful 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 suc- 
 cessively. Scarcely ever have I experienced so much pleas- 
 ure in one day. Every body seemed happy. Dr. and I 
 
 were in high health and spirits ; the prospect on the banks of 
 25* 
 
294 MEMOIR OF 
 
 the river was delightful, and cliangiiig every moment ; the 
 day was fine, and the swiftness of our motion was very agreea- 
 ble ; 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 night, 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 before me, 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 obli- 
 ged 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 great gratification to have you so 
 much nearer to me, and to think of meeting you so much soon- 
 er. I 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 VvTote 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 
 folio v/ing beautiful passage, in which the gentle and the severe 
 are most charmingly blended : 
 
 '* Though your letter was consoling, it grieved me for 
 
 a moment. It did not seem to breathe so much tenderness 
 as your former letters. But I soon perceived the reason. Your 
 mind was braced up to help me bear my burdens ; and in such 
 a state of mind, it is not easy to feel or express tenderness. I 
 hope you will remember this remark. You know that I am 
 often obliged, while at home, to put on all the iron I can com- 
 mand, in order to bear up against trials and discouragements ; 
 and many times, when you know nothing of it, I am engaged 
 in most distressing inward conflicts. Now, how can a man 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 295 
 
 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 re- 
 turn, you will find me a little more like him than I have been." 
 
 In his strictly domestic letters, he sometimes hits off the dif- 
 ferent 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 quali- 
 ties alluded to ; and, like his satire upon quackery, may serve 
 a more 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 great- 
 est 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 re- 
 ceive them, his condition was very frequently such, that he 
 needed rather " to be ministered unto, than to minister ;" but 
 the most agonizing sufferings 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 al- 
 most 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 cheerful- 
 ness. He has left a description of the accumulated evils, that 
 were crowded into a few days, into which his playful imagina- 
 tion has thrown so much of humor, as to divest the subject of 
 its repulsive character, and clothe it with no ordinary attrac- 
 tions. But it is chiefly interesting as an illustration of a hap- 
 py temper : 
 
296 MEMOIR OF 
 
 " Since I wrote last, I have been called to sing of mer- 
 
 cy and judgment. My old friend, the Sick Head-ache, has fa- 
 vored 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 m.e so low, 
 that I could have died as easily as not. Rheumatism next ar- 
 rived, eager to pay his respects, and embraced my right shoul- 
 der 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 thorough- 
 ly, that I shall think and speak of them with respect as long 
 as I live. Not 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 up too. During 
 this time, my poor shoulder, neck, and back, seemed to be a 
 place in which the various pains and aches had assembled to 
 keep holyday ; and the delectable sensations of stinging, prick- 
 ing, 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, blis- 
 ters, &/C., with which we welcomed him, still stands at my back, 
 threatening that he will not allow me to finish my letter. But 
 enough of him and his companions. Let me leave them for a 
 more pleasing theme. 
 
 *' God has mercifully stayed his rough wind in the day of his 
 east wind. No horrible, hell-born temptations, no rheumatism 
 of the mind has been allowed to visit me in my sufferings ; but 
 such consolations, such heavenly visits, as turned agony into 
 pleasure, and constrained me to sing aloud, whenever I could 
 catch my breath long enough to utter a stanza. Indeed, I 
 have been ready to doubt whether pain be really an evil ; for, 
 though more pain was crowded into last week, than any other 
 week of my life, yet it was one of the happiest weeks I ever 
 spent. And now I am ready to say, Come what will come 
 sickness, pain, agony, poverty, loss of friends only let God 
 come with them, and they shall be welcome. Praised, blessed 
 forever, be his name, for all my trials and afflictions ! There 
 has not been one too many all were necessary, and good, and 
 kind." 
 
 How perfectly versed was he in the heavenly art of extract- 
 ing the choicest sweets from the bitterest cup ! " honey out of 
 the rock, and oil out of the flinty rock." How much anguish 
 must such a demeanor under sufferings have saved " the part- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 297 
 
 ners of his blood !" What rare and exquisite enjoyment must 
 it have imparted to them, to witness a happiness which the ca- 
 lamities of life could not mar 1 It was surely an enviable priv- 
 ilege to enjoy instructions rendered so emphatical and impres- 
 sive by the circumstances of the teacher. 
 
 In another extract may be seen the tender yearnings of a 
 father's heart a heart, nevertheless, in a state of sweet sub- 
 jection to *' the Father of spirits, who chasteneth us for our 
 profit, that we may be partakers of his holiness :" 
 
 ''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 proba- 
 bly 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 dread- 
 ful disorder, I need not describe it. If you have not, descrip- 
 tion can give you but little idea of it. I am, however, merci- 
 fully 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 suf- 
 fering in my own person, and in the person of another. Per- 
 sonal sufferings seem to harden the heart, and make me selfish, 
 so that I can feel little for others. They will drag one's atten- 
 tion 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 trial, to teach me how 
 to sympathize with my people in similar circumstances." 
 
 For more than a week afterwards, he watched this child, 
 " struggling between life and death" the victim of complica- 
 ted diseases, the effects of which it would be difficult to de- 
 scribe and almost congeal one's blood to read. Yet he was 
 
298 MEMOIR OF 
 
 calm "as the morning, when the sun ariseth ;" and, though 
 his health was impaired by watching, in addition to his labors, 
 he says of this season " It has been, on the whole, a happy 
 week. I have been unusually free from spiritual trials ; and 
 any thing which frees me from them is a blessing. Be not dis- 
 tressed on our account. We are happy, and can sing, *' sweet 
 affliction," &lc. I would not but have had it on any account." 
 
 It will add nothing to the strength of the impression produ- 
 ced by these extracts, to say, that he was a most kind and ten- 
 der husband, a most faithful and affectionate father ; but it is 
 adding something to their import, to afflrm 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 diver- 
 sions 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 developement 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 pour- 
 ing 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 facul- 
 ties, 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 advance- 
 ment of his children, he did it not so much by set lessons, and 
 at seasons set apart for that purpose exclusively, as by inci- 
 dental instructions. There were many days when his engage- 
 ments left him no time to meet them, except at their meals ; 
 then indeed it was his comm.on 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 op- 
 pressive indeed, when they did not share a father's attentions. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 299 
 
 To instruct them in religion, was, of course, his first care. 
 Here, also, he wisely consulted their age and capacities, and 
 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 oc- 
 casion offered, or the emergency demanded. 
 
 But he was master, as well as father ; " one that ruled well 
 his own house, having his children in subjection with all grav- 
 ity." He habitually explained his commands to such of his 
 children as were of sufficient age to understand and appreciate 
 them ; and always referred to the Scriptures, as the umpire 
 from whose decisions there was no appeal. " The Bible says 
 thus," was the invariable and ultimate argument for enforc- 
 ing obedience. Appeals of this kind contribute greatly to in- 
 spire 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 believ- 
 ed, 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 meicy, 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 treat- 
 ment towards the domestics. To several of them his counsels 
 and prayers were blessed. To one, who had been anxious for 
 her own salvation in consequence of his previous fidelity, and 
 apparently lost her impressions, he affectionately said, as she 
 entered the parlor, bearing a pitcher of water " I hope the 
 time may never come, when you will long for a drop of that 
 water to cool your tongue." It was a word in season she 
 became a Christian. Another was about to leave his family 
 for a gay circle, with the prospect of entering a new relation, 
 from which he apprehended danger to her soul. At family 
 prayer, the last time she was expected to be present, he pray- 
 ed 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. 
 
300 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 defighted 
 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 lan- 
 guage : 
 
 " 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,^' 6lc. I preached on it lately, and, among other 
 things, observed, that, in that day, every action would be per- 
 formed as the most solemn religious duties are now ; every 
 house and place would be a temple ; every day like a Sab- 
 bath ; and every 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 impossi- 
 ble ; and then half an hour spent alone would answer the pur- 
 pose as well. I find 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 Righteous- 
 ness does not shine." 
 
 Dr. Payson was the father of eight children, two of whom, 
 a son and a daughter, he followed to the grave. Six survive 
 him, two daughters and four sons. 
 
 Many persons were honored with a large share of Dr. Pay- 
 son's confidence ; but it is very doubtful whether he ever 
 poured out all 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 ordinari- 
 ly 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 hira, to any 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 301 
 
 heart that could not send back a response. And where, al 
 most, 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 w^ere secrets in his own bosom of too sacred a char- 
 acter 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, sur- 
 rounded by his children. I do not feel as though there were an 
 ill disposed person among them. I can throw off my armor with- 
 out fearing that an enemy is there with a dagger ready to stab 
 me." Their affection w^as most fully and faithfully reciprocat- 
 ed. Never did a minister more ardently love his charge, or 
 enter with greater 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, guilty 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 aw^ay the sins of the world." 
 
 " Comfort came down, the trembling wi'etch to raise, 
 And his last faltering accents whispered praise." 
 
 He was eminently susceptible of gratitude. A favor, which 
 would be received with a very summary acknowledgment by 
 many, would make his " shoulders ache under the load of ol>- 
 ligation that was laid upon them." And if he * bore it pretty 
 well, it w^as because nothing renders a man so careless about 
 increasing his debts, as the consciousness that he shall never 
 be able to pay.' 
 
 Economy was a very noticeable feature in his character. 
 It was a principle with him to spend nothing merely for orna- 
 ment. The money which came into his possession he regard- 
 ed as a talent for which he w^as accountable ; and so scru- 
 pulous was he, as to the disposition which he made of it, 
 that he is thought to have regarded some things as forbidden 
 26 
 
302 MEMOIR OF 
 
 luxuries, which would have been for his welfare. In his fur- 
 niture, in his apparel, and that of his household, and in the 
 provisions of his table, there was a plainness and a 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 de- 
 manded relief, his money was as free for their use as a cup of 
 cold water. He had declined purchasing an article of conve- 
 nience for the family one morning, because, as it was not ab- 
 solutely necessary, he thought they could not afford it. The 
 same day, he gave ten dollars to a woman in reduced circum- 
 stances, who called at his house. At another time, he said to 
 his church, who had handed in their contribution of fifty or 
 sixty dollars, for foreign missions " I am ashamed to send so 
 small a sum, and shall forward one hundred dollars, as your 
 contribution ; and you may act your pleasure about indemni- 
 fying me." These are only instances out of a multitude ; the 
 same liberality characterized him as long as he lived. He 
 continued 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 compen- 
 sation for his services ; and for two successive years, he actu- 
 ally 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 libe- 
 rality, and their convictions of what was due to him, in return 
 for the sums which he 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 ex- 
 penditures, which he did not give away. 
 
 In this connexion a document will be introduced, contain- 
 ing a request, such as it would be equally honorable to minis- 
 ters 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 acknowledg- 
 ments, 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 303 
 
 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 re- 
 quest 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 the addi- 
 tion 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 kind- 
 ness to his servant, is the first wish and most earnest prayer of 
 " Your deeply indebted and grateful pastor, 
 
 " Edward Payson." 
 
 ''Portland, Aprim, 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 inva- 
 riably treated me, ever since I became your pastor, and espe- 
 cially 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 exhausted, or even 
 diminished. But I must not allow myself to encroach upon it 
 too far. It is my indispensable 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 duties of which I am no longer able to perform. 
 And have I not reason to believe that such is the fact? With 
 the present state of my health you are sufficiently acquainted. 
 It has already occasioned you much trouble and expense. 
 You have waited a reasonable time for its 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 
 
304 MEMOIR OF 
 
 should enjoy the services of a minister who possesses a vig- 
 orous 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 measures as shall be most conducive to the glory of 
 God, and your own best interests, is the prayer of 
 " Your affectionate friend and pastor, 
 
 " Edward Payson.'^ 
 
 This request was received and treated in a manner most 
 honorable to the parish. Their reply to it expressed the most 
 ^ deep and affectionate sympathy with their much esteemed 
 pastor, and a sense of their high obligations for the very valu- 
 able services, which a kind Providence had permitted and en- 
 abled him to perform for a long course of years ; and, appreci- 
 ating his present services, much as they were interrupted and 
 curtailed by sickness, of paramount value and interest to them, 
 they did respectfully solicit that he would be pleased to with- 
 drav^ his request ; and thus permit them to hope, that, whatever 
 might be the state of his health in future, they should enjoy 
 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 hostil- 
 ity 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 shduld have been wick- 
 edly 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, 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 305 
 
 that be 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 obbged 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 predeces- 
 sors at Kidderminster, the Rev. John Cross. A wicked woman 
 had been hired to bring the charge ; but Mr. Cross, at her 
 examination, placed himself amongst the magistrates, dressed 
 as they were ; and when she was asked, if one of them was 
 the man, she looked at them, and said. No; and thus her mal- 
 ice was defeated. 
 
 A wicked w^oman once brought against Dr. Payson an ac- 
 cusation, under circumstances which seemed to render it im- 
 possible 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 help was in God ; and to him 
 he addressed his fervent prayer. He was heard by the De- 
 fender of the innocent. A * compunctious visiting' induced 
 the wretched woman to confess that the whole was a malicious 
 slander. 
 
 He was such " a terror to evil doers," that they seemed bent 
 on destroying his reputation; and multiplied their malicious 
 slanders, till they ceased to gain any credence even with the 
 vilest. " It can't be true," said an opposer, respecting a base 
 calumny of Dr. Payson. " No," said another ; ^' but I would 
 
 give dollars, if it were." When these cruel and malicious 
 
 designs upon his character proved abortive, their enmity mani- 
 fested itself in other forms. He once alludes to this opposition 
 in his letters. It was in a year eminently distinguished by 
 God's blessing on his labors : 
 
 "July^, 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. 
 Every one, except my own people, seems ready to curse me ; 
 and I am weary of living in continual strife." 
 26* 
 
306 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 sustamed 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. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 307 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Further particulars relating to his personal history, and rc" 
 ligious 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, however, that or- 
 der is resumed for the purpose of continuing the history of his 
 religious experience through the various occurrences and vicis- 
 situdes 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 con- 
 nected narrative, besides 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 suf- 
 ficient guarantee of their accuracy. The articles of intelligence 
 and modes of elucidating and enforcing truth, which are in- 
 terspersed, 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. 
 ^'Mr DEAR Mother, 
 
 " We arrived here last Friday, in safety, 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 
 
308 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 lit- 
 tle less than a miracle ; and shall feel as if your deafness may 
 be removed. Indeed, I think it will strengthen my faith as 
 much as it will my body. It will also remove some spiritual 
 difficulties and doubts, which have been a terrible hinderance 
 to me in my race, and given unbelief more advantage over me 
 than all other things united. But how I ramble ! 
 
 ** We have little encouraging of a religious nature, though the 
 church are, I believe, much engaged. They ought to be ; for 
 I find that " Portland Christians" have, at least, a name to live 
 at the westward ; a better name, I fear, than they will ere long 
 deserve, even if they merit it now." 
 
 " Sept. 12, 1814. 
 " I engaged to go on a mission, if my people would 
 consent ; but they will not hear of it. The church would con- 
 sent, but the parish will not. You will learn from the news- 
 papers, that we are in a state of alarm here, or I should say 
 nothing of it. Ever since our return, the streets have been fill- 
 ed with wagons, &/C., carrying goods out of town, and the alarm 
 continues and increases. We had hoped to have a quiet Sab- 
 bath yesterday; but, in the morning, the chairman of the 
 committee of public safety called and informed me, that the 
 committee had issued a handbill, requiring all the male citi- 
 zens 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 com- 
 ply, 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 chaise and follow. You have no reason to entertain the 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 209 
 
 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 confi- 
 dence in God, mingled with a deep sense of ill-desert, and sub- 
 mission 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 dan- 
 ger. 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 hope- 
 ful appearances in the parish. But the best of all ig, 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, 
 with old Simeon " Let thy servant depart in peace, for mine 
 eyes have seen thy salvation !" We shall yet see peace upon 
 our Israel ; and I have very little doubt, that, after the war ceas- 
 es, we shall have greater revivals through the land than we 
 have ever yet seen. It was harder to do what has been done, 
 both in the world and among us, than to do what remains. 
 The wheel is now in motion, and will be kept so with com- 
 parative 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. 
 
310 MEMOIR OF 
 
 '* 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/' 
 
 '' JwneS, 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 Nevvburyport, to which our church is invited ; 
 but I fear it will not be. 
 
 " 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. 1, 1815. 
 
 " Do not feel anxious about me. I am, you know, in 
 
 good hands in better hands than yours ; and, when you con- 
 sider how good God has been to me, you can have no reason 
 to fear that he will deal with me otherwise than well. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 311 
 
 " 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 sim- 
 ilar 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 gen- 
 tleman 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. 1,1S15. 
 "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 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 la- 
 bors 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 spe- 
 cial 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 fur- 
 
312 MEMOIR OF 
 
 nish 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 ap- 
 pear 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 took its flight, when he preached so much from the bed 
 of death. This fact the reader will regard as a striking com- 
 mentary 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 ex- 
 perienced 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 confi- 
 dence in God, I took some extraordinary, and perhaps impru- 
 dent,* 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, I could not think 
 of my disappointment with submission. There were many 
 aggravating circumstances attending it, which rendered it in- 
 comparably the severest disappointment, and, of course, the 
 most trying temptation, I had ever met with. It injured my 
 
 ^ See Chapter XIV. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 313 
 
 health to such a degree, that I was obliged to spend the sum- 
 mer 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 a while, however, my health began to return, 
 though very slowly. God was pleased to revisit me, and to 
 raise me up out of the horrible pit and miry clay, in which I 
 had so long lain ; and my gratitude for this mercy far exceed- 
 ed all I felt at my first conversion. Sin never appeared so 
 odious, nor Christ so precious, before. Soon after this, my 
 hopes of a revival began to return. About a month since, 
 very favorable appearances were seen, and my endeavors to 
 rouse the church seemed to be remarkably blessed. My whole 
 soul was gradually wrought up to the highest pitch of eager 
 expectation and desire ; 1 had great assistance in observing a 
 day of fasting and prayer ; the annual thanksgiving was bless- 
 ed in a very remarkable and surprising manner, both to my- 
 self and the church. From these and many other circumstan- 
 ces, I was led to expect, very confidently, that the next Sab- 
 bath, which was our communion, 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 free- 
 dom 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 rep- 
 etition of the same conflicts and suflferings which I had en- 
 dured after my disappointment last spring, and which I dread- 
 ed a thousand times worse than death. Hence my mind was 
 exceedingly imbittered. Sut, 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 there- 
 fore, after Satan had been permitted to sift me as wheat, I was 
 delivered out of his power ; and, strange as it even now ap- 
 pears 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 
 27 
 
314 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 con- 
 duct a revival properly, than I had 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 unprofita- 
 ble, 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 describ- 
 ed in Ezekiel xvi. 63, than I ever expected to feel a year 
 since. The gospel way of salvation appears much more glori- 
 ous and precious, and sin more hateful. I can see, supposing 
 a revival is to come, that it was a great 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 of mingled anxieties, de- 
 sires 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 re- 
 pentance 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 im- 
 perfection. 
 
 " 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 affec- 
 tions. 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 pray- 
 ing, more than I ever did before, for more spiritual affec- 
 tion 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. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 315 
 
 " 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. 
 O, 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 de- 
 scribe, but it seemed to be almost insupportable. 
 
 " Dec. 17. Had a most sweet, refreshing season in prayer 
 last night. The unsearchable riches seemed opened to me, 
 to take as much as I pleased. Had great liberty in pray- 
 ing for a revival ; and could scarcely give over the blessed 
 work, though much exhausted. This morning, was in the 
 same frame. Was especially affected and delighted with the 
 proof of love which he required from Peter, " Feed my sheep." 
 Prayed that I might be enabled to feed them this day. Went 
 to the house of God with more of such a frame 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 meeting-house. But 
 to-day my fetters were taken off. I could pray for nothing but 
 a revival. 
 
 *^ Dec. ] 8. 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 my wants. Spent the even- 
 ing with Christian friends. Prayed for a blessing on the visit, 
 and found it a sweet season. Afler my return, had a most 
 refreshing and delightful season in prayer. Had no longer 
 the least doubt of a revival, and my joy was unspeaka- 
 ble. Continued sweetly meditating and praying, till I fell 
 asleep. 
 
 " Dec. 19. New joys, new praises. Had a most ravishing 
 view of Christ this morning, as coming at a distance in the 
 chariot of his salvation. In an instant he was with me, and 
 around me ; and I could only cry. Welcome ! welcome ! a 
 thousand times welcome to my disconsolate heart, and to thy 
 widowed church ! O, joy unspeakable and 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 en- 
 tirely 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 something against Christ ; 
 
8iG MEMOIR OF 
 
 but I was enabled to flee to the throne of grace, and found 
 relief. One thing is certain. I have no direct promise that 
 there shall be a revival ; but I have a thousand direct, posi- 
 tive 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. 
 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 noth- 
 ing, 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 never can be humbled 
 sufficiently for my indolence. As it respects a revival, I feel 
 easy. My anxiety has subsided into a settled calm, aris- 
 ing 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, 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 ap- 
 pear 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 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. O, I wanted, even then, 
 to begin my eternal song ; and excess of happiness became 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 317 
 
 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 impatience, 
 yet I could not but see that there was some real faith under 
 all, which God had accepted. Afterwards, however, reflect- 
 ing on the feelings of papists towards their saints, and pagans 
 towards their idols, I was led to doubt whether I had exercis- 
 ed 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 expound- 
 ed the new covenant, and showed what was meant by taking 
 hold of it. Finished by imploring all the blessings of this cov- 
 enant 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 impatient. 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." 
 
 'Mirc/i 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 expect- 
 ed. However, we would be thankful for a drop, if we cannot 
 have a shower. It has been a trying season with me this 
 27* 
 
318 MEMOIR OF 
 
 winter. While pursuing the revival, it seemed as if I must 
 die in the pursuit, and never overtake it." 
 
 '- April \, 1816. 
 
 . " I am so worn down with constant cares and labors, 
 
 that my affections seem to be all dried up, " and I am wither- 
 ed like grass." However, I hope you have received, ere this, 
 a few lines, as a proof that I have not quite forgotten, or ceas- 
 ed 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 ev- 
 idently not over ; but whether it will prove general, is still 
 doubtful. There is quite a revival at Bath, below us. Nearly 
 two hundred have been awakened. In Philadelphia, seventy- 
 one were added to a single church at one time, a few weeks 
 since. In New York and Baltimore, also, there are revivals. 
 You have probably heard, that there have been revivals among 
 the Hottentots. Two hundred were added to the church in 
 one year, and ten Hottentot preachers ordained. There is 
 much more good news of a similar nature. Surely we live in 
 a good day, and I believe you will yet see good days in 
 Rindge. Their liberality in raising father's salary, is a token 
 for good ; and I rejoice in it more for that reason than for any 
 other. Those who are most willing to pay for the gospel, are 
 most likely to have it blessed to them. 
 
 " We go on very happily in every respect. I have been fa- 
 vored 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 pecu- 
 liarly sweet of late. One is this : *' He caused them to be 
 pittied 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 pro- 
 voked 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 Ab- 
 salom for my sake." 
 
 " Another is the account of our Saviour's ascension, in the 
 last chapter of Luke : " And he lifted up his hands, and bless- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 319 
 
 ed 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 hless his disciples. He went up, scattering bless- 
 ings ; and he has done nothing but bless them ever since." 
 
 '' Sept. 19, 1816. 
 
 " I do not wonder at all, my dear mother, at your discover- 
 ing 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 hap- 
 piest which I have enjoyed since I was settled. Were it not 
 for the dreadfully depressing effects of ill health, I should be 
 almost too happy. It seems to me, that no domestic troubles, 
 not even the loss of wife and children, could disturb me much, 
 might I enjoy such consolations as I have been favored with 
 most of the time since the date of my last letter. Soon after 
 that, the 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 good- 
 ness 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, reckon- 
 ing, 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 mer- 
 cies, too, that I absolutely stagger under them, and all my 
 words are swallowed up. 
 
 " But, great as my reasons are to love God for his favors, 
 methinks he is infinitely more precious on account of his per- 
 fections. Never did he appear so inexpressibly glorious and 
 lovely as he has for some weeks past. He is, indeed, all in 
 all. I 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, 
 
320 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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. Nev- 
 er 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 con- 
 ference-house, to hold 500 people. Some of the church, who 
 can ill afford it, give fifty dollars each towards it." 
 
 " December 9; 1816. 
 
 " In a religious view, things remain very much as they have 
 been. We have about fifty inquirers ; but they do not seem, 
 except in a few instances, 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 w^eek, 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 afford- 
 ed of his presence. And he has been wonderfully gracious to 
 me ever since. It is several months since I have been dis- 
 turbed 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 
 to you and my father, to have both daughters gone almost 
 like burying them. If father w^ere not a minister, and thus 
 fixed where he is, I should send him and you such an invita- 
 tion as Joseph sent to Jacob, to come and let us nurse and 
 nourish you, since you are left so much alone," 
 
 " Dec. 16, 1817. This being the anniversary of my ordi- 
 nation, 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 32X 
 
 melting, heart-broken frame at the feet of Christ, weeping 
 aloud, and obtained a full and sweet assurance of pardon. 
 Never before enjoyed such a sense of his love, or felt so con- 
 strained to love him, and every thing that belonged to him, 
 especially his Word, which I could not forbear kissing, and 
 pressing to my bosom. Was perfectly willing to die, without 
 leaving my chamber, if my work here 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 drop- 
 ping into hell. How astonishingly blind have I been, and 
 how imperceptible my religious progress ! Prayed for my peo- 
 ple with more of a right spirit than perhaps ever before. Af- 
 ter 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, v/hich for several weeks was worse than ever, is now quite 
 as good as usual ; and God has been so gracious to me in spir- 
 itual 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. Da- 
 vid'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 these mercies, because I know they are in an- 
 swer 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 trem-' 
 bling. 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. O, could I now drop the body, I could stand 
 and cry to all eternity, without being weary God is holy, God 
 
322 MEMOIR OF 
 
 is just, God is good ; God is wise, and faithful, and true. Ei- 
 ther of his perfections alone is sufficient to furnish matter for 
 an eternal, unwearied song. How bright, how dazzling, is 
 the jmre, unsullied whiteness of Ids cliaraettr I and how black, 
 how loathsome, do we appear in contrast with it ! Could I sing 
 upon paper, I should " break forth into singing ;" for, day and 
 night, I can do nothing but sing. ' Let the saints be joyful in 
 glory ; let them sing aloud upon their beds ; for the Lord shall 
 reign king for ever, and thy God, O Zion, throughout all 
 generations.' '' 
 
 i ''^;)Wn3, 1820. 
 
 *^ I have lately been very much delighted with some ac- 
 count 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 ex- 
 presses 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 re- 
 ligion thus gloriously exemplified. After his faculties seemed to 
 be almost extinct, so that he could not remember, in the after- 
 noon, having preached 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 iviU 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." 
 
 ^'Mmj 11, 1S21. 
 "My dear Mother, 
 
 *' 111 news flies so fast, and becomes so much exaggerated 
 in its progress, that I should not wonder if you were to hear a 
 rumor that I am dying, if not dead. The truth is, I have 
 been sick perhaps dangerously so. About three months 
 since, I began to be troubled with a slight cough. It gradu- 
 ally 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 emetics, 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 323 
 
 blistering, bleeding, &c. By the blessing of God attending 
 these means, I am now almost well again, and hope to be able 
 soon to resume my labors. I am, however, still weak, and can- 
 not write much ; but I was fearful you would hear that I am 
 worse than I really am, and therefore thought it best to write 
 a few lines." 
 
 " June 8. This is a most melancholy day to me. It is the 
 Sabbath on which we should have had the communion ; but 
 we have no one to preach for us. My flock are scattered, 
 and I can only look on and groan. My health is in such a 
 state, that I can feel nothing but misery. However, this blow 
 seemed to touch me. I saio 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." 
 
 " Julij 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 
 offered 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. O, how much better is God to me than my 
 fears, and even than my hopes ! how ready to answer prayer ! 
 This afternoon he has banished my fears and sorrows, strength- 
 ened 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. O, how wise 
 and good is God ! Now I can see it was best that I should 
 not be assisted in preaching yesterday ; for it drove me, in 
 self-despair, to the throne of grace. Whereas, had I been as- 
 sisted, 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 imme- 
 diate 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 contin- 
 ually in my way, almost wholly obstructing my usefulness and 
 growth in grace. Half my time, I am so languid in body and 
 
324 MEMOIR OF 
 
 mind, that I can do nothing ; and the other half, I am very far 
 from being well. But God has hitherto graciously supported 
 me, so that, though cast down, I am not yet destroyed. As 
 to resolving that I will do better in future, I have no courage 
 to do it. The loss of so many years withers my strength and 
 courage, and dries up my spirits." 
 
 '' Aug. 6,1821. 
 " Since I wrote last, there has been quite a change in me. 
 Then, my health was better, but my mind sick. Now, my 
 mind is comparatively at ease, but my health has sunk down 
 nearly to its old standard. However, this state is vastly more 
 comfortable than the former, and 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 is absolutely necessary." 
 
 " Sept. 1. While lying awake last night, enjoyed most de- 
 lightful views of God as a Father. Felt that my happiness is 
 as dear to him as to myself; that he w^ould not willingly hurt 
 one hair of my head, nor let me suffer a moment's unnecessa- 
 ry pain. Felt that he was literally as willing to give as I could 
 be to ask. Seemed, indeed, to have nothing to ask for." 
 
 In a letter, dated Sept. 10th, after alluding to *' sore trials," 
 and especially to one, of several events which had a most mel- 
 ancholy and disastrous aspect on the religious prospects of the 
 church, he says, " This, coming just when we were expecting 
 a revival, was peculiarly grievous; but I still hope, after God 
 has crushed us into the dust, he will exalt us. He has been 
 most wonderfully gracious to me during these trials. Never 
 before have I enjoyed such consolations. It seems as evident 
 as noon-day, that the same love which prompted the Saviour to 
 bear the curse for us, would have led him to bear all our afflic- 
 tions 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 mo- 
 ment's needless pain. I care not what trials may come, for 
 I know that they will be for my good, and that he will sup- 
 port 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." 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 325 
 
 " Sept. 19. Last night, while lying awake, had more dis- 
 tinct apprehensions of God's greatness than at any previous 
 time. Realized little of any thing else except simple great- 
 ness ; 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, 
 1 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 wonderfully gracious to me in 
 
 spiritual things. I know not what it means. I never was so 
 happy for so long a time before. 1 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 her^ It 
 may be, however, that this bright day is designed only to pre- 
 pare me for as dark a night. But I desire to do present duty, 
 to enjoy, with humble gratitude, present happiness, and let to- 
 morrow take thought for itself" 
 
 ''Nov, 25. 
 
 " A young man, member of our church, is just settled, 
 
 and a revival has commenced. About fifty are awakened, and 
 the work is increasing. He makes the fourth member of our 
 church, who has been settled since I came here." [Dr. Pay- 
 son superintended the preparation of several young men for the 
 ministry.] 
 
 28 
 
326 MEMOIR OF 
 
 ''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 had 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 be- 
 gan to amend, I was seized with a violent ague in my face, 
 which gave me incessant anguish for six days and nights to- 
 gether, and deprived me almost entirely of sleep. Three 
 nights, I did not once close my eyes. When almost distract- 
 ed 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. Nor is my situation now much bet- 
 ter. 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 desponden- 
 cy, 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 weak- 
 ens, 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 pro- 
 portion of my path lies through the valley of the shadow of 
 death. Bishop Hall says * None out of hell have suffered so 
 much as some of God's children ;' and I believe it. I should 
 not, however, much regard my sufferings, if they were sanc- 
 tified." 
 
 " 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, 1 trust, the 
 devil is cast out ; though, as he departed from our Saviour only 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 327 
 
 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 I 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 I wrote last. I was sent for to-day, to see a man ninety- 
 two 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 
 be every reason to hope, that God has begun a great work 
 among us. I would not be too sanguine, but things look more 
 favorable than they have for seven or eight years. Every day, 
 I have two, and three, and four inquirers to see me, and their 
 convictions are very deep and pungent. Three have just ob- 
 tained hope. 
 
 " I rejoice the more in this work, because it enables me to 
 stop the mouth of my old adversary, and to prove to his face 
 that he is a liar. I could not doubt that I had been enabled 
 to pray for a revival these many years. Nor could I persuade 
 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 op- 
 pprtunity 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 ex- 
 pect, and to pray for ? Now, I can answer these questions tri- 
 umphantly, 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 prog- 
 ress 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 
 
328 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 assem- 
 bly 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 faithfully. However extensive a revival he 
 may send, I shall again be stupid and ungrateful, unless he 
 prevent." 
 
 " March 17. 
 ^' The revival goes on. Fifteen, we hope, are converted ; 
 and four times that number under deep impressions. But in 
 the midst of it I am laid aside. My lungs have been failing 
 for several weeks, and I can preach no longer. After my last 
 Thursday lecture, I had a strange turn. Every body thought 
 I was dying. It was occasioned by an inability in the heart, 
 to free itself from the blood which poured in upon it. How- 
 ever, 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 situa- 
 tion. The revival among his people increases, but he can do 
 nothing. I wish P. was here ; we both need him." 
 
 '' May 20, 1823. 
 '' Caesar, speaking of one of his many battles which 
 was severely contested, observed that, on former occasions, he 
 had fought for victory, but then he fought for life. Even so it 
 is with me. Once I fought for victory, and no ordinary victo- 
 ry would satisfy me ; but my strength, and courage, and ambi- 
 tion, are now so crushed, that I fight merely for life, and I am 
 scarcely able to secure even that. Still I hope for victory ul- 
 timately. I have just finished a sermon on Hezekiah's peti- 
 tion " O 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 un- 
 dertaken 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 
 oil spiritual blessings in heavenly things in Christ Jesus." I 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 329 
 
 have prepared 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 pas- 
 sage 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 corrup- 
 tion ; not merely taken it out, and redeemed it out, but loved 
 it out." 
 
 "May 2b. 
 
 " 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 mis- 
 sionary. They sent him to a town which has long been with- 
 out a minister, and where, just before, a vain attempt had been 
 made to raise one hundred dollars to pay for preaching. His 
 labors produced such effect, that they have now raised a per- 
 manent fund, which will support a minister for ever. They 
 have also given our missionary a unanimous call to settle with 
 them. We shall make a similar experiment in another town, 
 as soon as we can find a suitable missionary. How much is 
 money worth at such a time as this !" 
 
 Dr. Payson describes a species of trial, to which he was 
 twice subjected, that will, probably, at the first glance, sur- 
 prise those who were acquainted with his strong confidence in 
 revelation, and his rich experience in the consolations of reli- 
 gion. It shows most vividly the awful malice of the " accuser 
 of the brethren," whose power to distress Christians, as well 
 as his agency among "the children of disobedience," is great- 
 ly 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 di- 
 28* 
 
330 MEMOIR OF 
 
 rected all his "fiery darts." They gave temporary pain, but 
 inflicted no mortal wound. The adversary was foiled. 
 
 ''Dec. 5, 1S23. 
 -" I have been sick, and laid by from preaching on 
 
 thanksgiving day and two Sabbaths, but am now able to re- 
 sume my labors. But O the temptations which have harass- 
 ed 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 publish- 
 ed. They would, or I am much mistaken, make fearful work 
 with Christians for a time, though God would, doubtless, ena- 
 ble them to overcome in the end. It seems to me, that my 
 state has been far worse than that of Mansoul was when Di- 
 abolus and his legions broke into the town. They could not 
 get into the castle, the heart ; but my castle was full of them. 
 But do not be troubled for me ; I am now better. Let me, 
 then, try to comfort my mother." 
 
 The other passage, depicting a similar conflict, was written 
 about a year and a half after the above : 
 
 " It seems to me, that those who die young, like Brainerd 
 and Marty n, know almost nothing of the difficulty of perse- 
 vering in the Christian race. My difficulties increase every 
 year. There is one trial which you cannot know experiment- 
 ally. 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 write sermons, and to preach, when these ob- 
 jections beat upon me like a whirlwind, and almost distract 
 me. When he asks, as he does continually ask. What have 
 you gained by all your prayers ? I know not what to reply. 
 However, pray 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." 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 331 
 
 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 strength- 
 en his confidence in it, as the sure word of God, which endur^ 
 eth forever. The obvious and legitimate inference from them 
 is, that the Bible can sustain, uninjured, attacks and objec- 
 tions, 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 tre- 
 mendous volleys, from the enemy's battery, could not rend 
 away the foundations of Dr. Payson's faith, however they 
 might distress him for a time, that faith surely rested on a 
 basis as firm as the everlasting hills, which all the powers of 
 earth and hell will for ever assail in vain. An opposite con- 
 clusion would be as illogical and preposterous as it is false in 
 itself No reasonable man can adduce Dr. Payson's tempta- 
 tions to discredit religion ; for they are vanquished tempta- 
 tions. Be it remembered, that he overcame them all. How- 
 ever weighty or numerous the objections to revealed religion, 
 the evidences vastly preponderate. 
 
 We have ascribed these '^doubts and temptations" to Sa- 
 tan, without undertaking to define the manner or degree of 
 his agency on the human mind, or to distinguish his sugges- 
 tions from man's voluntary acts. If we have indicated their 
 true source, it should not surprise us that these doubts respect 
 what is fundamental 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 been in the counsels of God, that, among those whom 
 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 success- 
 ful 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 
 
332 MEMOIR OF 
 
 truth, a God or Christ, and whether the Holy Scriptures were 
 not rather a fable and cunning story, than the holy and pure 
 word of God." Even his pilgrim, whose experience was in- 
 tended to represent that of ordinary Christians, and to whose 
 fidelity, in its grand outlines and general character, every 
 evangelical Christian can testify, did not reach the celestial 
 city without encountering atheistical doubts on his way thither. 
 References of this kind might be multiplied ; but 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 tri-, 
 als, considered as a dispensation of God, many valuable ends 
 are answered. The champion of the cross, who is destined 
 to make wide encroachments on the kingdom of Satan, must 
 not be '' ignorant of his devices." He must see and know 
 the enemies to be resisted, in order to wield his spiritual 
 weapons with skill and 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 demol- 
 ishing monastic instituti'ons, and in kindling and spreading 
 the light of the glorious reformation. His own testimony rec- 
 ognises, what every Christian 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 
 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 pre- 
 tended to condemn things of which I was ignorant. It was 
 ordained, therefore, that I should pass part of my life in a 
 monastery." 
 
 But, while it is a grand object with that " adversary, who 
 goeth about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour," 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 333 
 
 to weaken, and, if possible, to destroy, the faith of God's peo- 
 ple in the fundamental articles of religion, and to shake their 
 hope of a personal interest in its blessings, there is something 
 in 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 w^ell-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 per- 
 sons 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 theolog- 
 ical 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 rea- 
 soning 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 es- 
 tabhshed. By the same means, they acquired a hold on his 
 own souly which his powerful and exasperated foe could not 
 disengage, though the effort sunk him *^ in heaviness for a sea- 
 son, through the manifold temptations'' which accompanied it 
 Of the doctrines of grace,^ no man was ever more " fully per 
 suaded 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 
 the means of converting, from a lax theology and consequent 
 indifference to eternal concerns, to evangelical faith and obe- 
 dience, 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 oc- 
 casion, partly, at least, in bodily and even spiritual disease ; 
 under the influence of which the subjects of them are pecu- 
 liarly liable to the vexatious and blasphemous assaults of Satan. 
 And doubtless they should be viewed as chastisements, as well 
 
334 MEMOIR OF 
 
 as grievous calamities ; and if a man could know all that was 
 in his heart, he might know to what sin or sinful tendency the 
 punishment was suited. Bunyan, after having been delivered 
 from these horrid exercises, which he endured for a long time, 
 attributed them chiefly to two causes : * That, after being 
 freed from one temptation, he did not still pray to God to keep 
 him from the temptation that was to come ;' and ' That he had 
 tempted God, not by any outward act, but by secretly saying 
 in his heart. Lord, if now thou wilt remove this sad affliction, 
 . . . then shall 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 cir- 
 cumspect. The external act which cost him more anguish 
 than any other act of his life, and which is dwelt upon more 
 circumstantially than any other in his journal, was one, in it- 
 self of the most trifling and indifferent character, too insignifi- 
 cant to be specified ; and yet was so associated in his mind 
 with other 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 exer- 
 cises are not to be coveted as a necessary part of Christian ex- 
 perience. Far otherwise ; it should be our daily prayer to be 
 kept from such temptations. As a defence against them, we 
 should tintst in God at all times, and pour out our hearts be- 
 fore him. We should strive to banish such suggestions from 
 the mind, when they enter it, and to hold up the shield of faith 
 as a defence against these fiery darts of the devil, when we 
 see them approaching. " Tell me," says Baxter, " what you 
 would do, if you heard a scold in the street reviling you, or 
 heard an atheist there talk against God : would you stand still 
 to hear them, or would you talk it out again with 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 trou- 
 bled at the temptation ; for trouble of mind doth keep the evil 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 335 
 
 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 pre- 
 disposition to melancholy and depression. Luther is a distin- 
 guished example of these apparently opposite qualities. " He, 
 who was so bold in asserting the cause of Christianity, and so 
 fearless of personal danger in its promotion, was not unfre- 
 quently 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 indicat- 
 ed his own purpose, in permitting that disciple to fall, by the 
 injunction, " When thou art converted, strengthen thy breth- 
 ren." It is perfectly obvious, that, after his fall and recove- 
 ry, 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 impor- 
 tant influence on his own character and labors, as a minister 
 of Christ, as well as on his success. Bunyan enumerates sev- 
 eral advantages as accruing from his torturing, frightful temp- 
 tations ; 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 won- 
 derful 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 dili- 
 gence, mixed with much trembling, to consider every sentence 
 together with its natural force and latitude. It cured him of 
 
336 MEMOIR OF 
 
 putting oif 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, w^here 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 ex- 
 periences, could he ever have been so eminently successful in 
 guiding pilgrims through the snares of their difficult road, or 
 have set up so many way-marks to keep them from " the en- 
 chanted ground," from " doubting castle," and " giant De- 
 spair ?" By a 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 affi-ighted sheep of Christ's fold. 
 Shall we therefore do evil that good may come ? God forbid. 
 If we are exempted from these distresses while we are enabled 
 to give due attention to the concerns of our souls, our thanks 
 to God should abound. We now return from this digression. 
 
 *' Jan. 1, 1824. Rose early, and tried to pray ; but a weak, 
 languid frame crushed me down. I have, however, reason to 
 bless God, that he allows such a wretch as I am to serve him 
 at all. Groaned and struggled with my weakness before God. 
 Read a number of passages in my diary, especially what is 
 recorded under date of Dec. 16, 1815. Am glad I kept a 
 journal. I had otherwise forgotten much of what I have 
 done against God, and of what he has done for me. Was con- 
 founded 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 com- 
 mon course, and planning what God is going to do. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 337 
 
 ** 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 ad- 
 mire the leadings of Providence, if he should be converted in 
 consequence of what was said to him. 
 
 " July 20. Perplexed what to do. My people wish me to 
 go to Europe. Tried to commit the case to God. 
 
 " Oct. 17. Slept none last night, and my sufferings were 
 great. My right arm seems about to perish. Could say, 
 God's will be done. 
 
 " Nov. 7. What I have long feared is come upon me. My 
 voice and my faculties are half gone already, and what remains 
 is rapidly departing. 
 
 " Nov. 27. Was favored with a most precious season in 
 prayer. Had such views of God and Christ ! Lay and mourn- 
 ed at his feet, till I was exhausted, and longed unutterably to 
 be more holy, and to have others holy. O, what reason have 
 I to bless God for this ! 
 
 " Jan. 5, 1825. At the concert on Monday, recommended 
 to the church to imitate the Lord's prayer, and always begin 
 their supplications with praying that God's name may be glo- 
 rified. Have derived much benefit from pursuing this prac- 
 tice. 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. 
 
 " Feh. 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 swallowed up in the will of God. 
 
 '* Feh. 15, 16. Much engaged in visiting. Went to the 
 
 utmost extent of my strength. Felt insatiable desires for moce 
 
 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 com- 
 ing 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 all the aisles. So far as I 
 29 
 
338 MEMOIR OF 
 
 know, however, very little good has been done by 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. # * * =i^ 
 
 " 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 wretched- 
 ness by his return, renders me almost too happy. This thought 
 has lately been of some service to me. Every Christian ought 
 to love God in proportion to what has been forgiven him. But 
 every Christian knows more evil of himself than he can know 
 of any other human being. He ought, therefore, to feel as if 
 more had been forgiven him, and as if he were under greater 
 obligations to love God than any other human being ; as if it 
 were worse for him to sin against God than it would be for 
 any other." 
 
 " Portland, Juhj 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 which 
 I wished to ask for, but could not, were bestowed. I need not 
 tell you how sweet, how soothing, how refreshing, Christ's re- 
 turning presence is, after long absence. Still I am borne 
 down in such a manner by ill health, that I can but half re- 
 joice. The state of religion among us helps, also, to crush 
 me. There never has been so entire a suspension of divine 
 influences, since my settlement, as at present. Those of the 
 church who are most spiritual, tell me that they never found 
 it so difficult to perform religious duties, as they do now. In 
 fine, the church seems to be on Bunyan's enchanted ground, 
 and many of them are sleeping in some of the arbors which he 
 mentions. Whether they will wake before death, seems 
 doubtful." 
 
 ''Sept. 29. 
 
 " I preached last Sabbath on being guilty of the blood 
 
 of souls ; and endeavored to point out some of the ways in 
 which we may incur this guilt. I have incurred but too much 
 of it ; and it lies upon me with a weight which I know not how 
 to bear, but which I cannot throw off. True, blood has been 
 shed for us, which has efficacy to take away the guilt of blood. 
 But though this consideration may keep us from despair, it can- 
 not shield us, or, at least, cannot shield one whose guilt is 
 like mine, from the sufferings occasioned by self-reproach, and 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 339 
 
 a wounded spirit. I seldom think of the time I spent in B. 
 without a pang, the keenness of which you cannot easily con- 
 ceive. 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 to be 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 con- 
 sequent 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 ef- 
 forts, and with similar consequences. 
 
340 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 diffi- 
 culty of filling it diminished in a still greater proportion. It 
 was while this alteration was in progress, that he made his cir- 
 cuitous 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 for ever elude 
 my grasp.' ^ The incessant and unremitted labor of years/ 
 adds Mr. W., * seemed to have left him but a mere wreck of 
 heing^ which he longed to be rid of to serve God in a region 
 of perfect health and boundless activity. He had little expec- 
 tation of recovering his health, and several times remarked, 
 that, if it was the will of God to take him away speedily, it 
 was no matter how soon he departed. The idea of wearing 
 out his days in a state of inactivity and consequent depression, 
 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. With Job he might say " I am made to 
 possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed 
 unto me. When I lie down, I say. When shall I arise, and the 
 night be gone? I am full of tossings to and fro unto the 
 dawning of the day ! When I say. My bed shall comfort me, 
 and my couch shall ease my complaint ; then thou scarest me 
 with dreams, and terrifiest me with night visions ; so that my 
 soul chooseth strangling and death rather than life. I loathe 
 it ; I would not live alway." ' 
 
 Mr. Whelpley imagined and in this he was unquestionably 
 correct that the sufferings of Dr. Pay son were greater than 
 any one knew or suspected ; and he adds, *they were endured, 
 for the most, in silence. At midnight, he would arise and walk 
 his room, singing some plaintive air. At first, I knew not what 
 to make of the unwonted and mournful sounds, which broke in 
 upon my slumbers ; and often, as the sound softly died away, 
 my soul was filled with sadness. He complained much of te 
 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 gener- 
 al and powerful revival of religion among his people ; his in- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 341 
 
 cessant labors to secure so great a blessing, and the repeated 
 disappointments he had experienced from year to year. We 
 would seem, said Dr. Payson, to be on the eve of an extensive 
 revival, and my hopes would be correspondently raised ; and 
 then the 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 ex- 
 hausted 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 sinful impatience, and as indi- 
 cating a want of gratitude for what God did perform by him. 
 It appears the more remarkable, when contemplated in con- 
 nexion with the fact, that the church was continually growing 
 under his ministrations, and the congregation enlarging, till 
 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 minis- 
 try. 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 con- 
 stant 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 fi-om that of every other period, by a compara- 
 tively small number. The difference is in fkvor 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 entrea- 
 ties could prevail with him to desist. He continued to occupy 
 29* 
 
342 MEMOIR OF 
 
 his pulpit on the Sabbath, for the most part, through the fol- 
 lowing winter; notwithstanding parts of his body, particularly 
 his right arm, had already begun to perish, and were not only 
 useless, 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 reli- 
 gious 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, re- 
 ceived the following impromptu : 
 
 '^ What if God should place in your hand a diamond, and 
 tell you to inscribe on it a sentence v/hich 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 ex- 
 ample, something which will remain, and be exhibited for, or 
 against you, at the judgment day." 
 
 We shall close our extracts, and this chapter, with two short 
 letters to his mother, the last he ever wrote : 
 
 " Feb. 1,1S^7. 
 '' My dear Mother, 
 
 '^ I have just received your letter ; and though I am obliged 
 to wTite with my left hand, and that is numb, I 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 w^ay, 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 ap- 
 pearances 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 for- 
 sake 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 win- 
 ter at New York. I thank him, but I cannot come. Home 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 343 
 
 is the only place for a cripple, who can neither dress nor un- 
 dress 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." 
 
 " My dear MOTHER; 
 
 " I 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 moth- 
 er ! for a short time, farewell !" 
 
 It proved to be the last farewell. His mother, a few days 
 afterwards, was called to her eternal home. 
 
344 MEMOIR OF 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 His last labors His spiritual joys, heavenly counsels^ and 
 brightening intellect, during the progress of his disease 
 His triumphant exit Conclusion. 
 
 Dr. Payson was at length compelled to yield to the irresist- 
 ible 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 expe- 
 rienced, at intervals, a most intense burning sensation, which 
 he compared to a stream of fused metal, or liquid fire, cours- 
 ing 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 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 ex- 
 pected 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, 
 net even his celebrated discourse on the Bible, was more in- 
 structive and 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 345 
 
 would have been listened to with a still greater intenseness of 
 interest, had his own trials, mentioned in the preceding chap- 
 ter, been known. The application of the subject to his audi- 
 tory must be left for imagination to supply ; for it cannot be 
 conveyed on paper. 
 
 On pronouncing the blessing, he requested the congrega- 
 tion 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 de- 
 sires for their salvation. In conclusion, he referred them to 
 the common practice, when men have any great object to ac- 
 complish, of assembling together, and adopting resolutions ex- 
 pressive of their convictions and purposes ; and he wished his 
 hearers to follow him in a series which he was about to pro- 
 pose, 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 convic- 
 tion 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 at- 
 tention to the concerns of the soul ; and another, the purpose 
 to seek its salvation without delay. Though his withered 
 right arm hung helpless by his side, yet he seemed " instinct 
 with life ;" and every successive resolution was rendered em- 
 phatic 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 adapt- 
 edness 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 be- 
 
346 MEMOIR OF 
 
 ings. One illustration of this statement was afforded by a ser- 
 mon which he preached as late as the last Sabbath in April, 
 from 2 Samuel xviii. 3 Thou art worth ten thousand of us. 
 Parts of this sermon are reported from recollection, by his el- 
 dest daughter, who has been the most successful where all 
 fail in retaining his characteristic expressions. 
 
 The text, which was addressed to David by his subjects. Dr. 
 Payson applied to Jehovah, and illustrated its truth in this ap- 
 plication by a variety of methods, showing that God is worth 
 ten thousand times ten thousand of human beings ; yea, worth 
 more than all the creatures that ever have been, and all that 
 ever will be created : 
 
 " Suppose you take the capacity for happiness, which has 
 been said by philosophers to be the only true standard of perfec- 
 tion : if the happiness which God enjoys were divided into 
 portions, each of which would be sufficient to fill an archangel 
 to overflowing, there would be an infinite number of those por- 
 tions. God's happiness is not merely a fountain, but an ocean 
 without bottom or shore. And this should be a never-failing 
 source of consolation to the Christian, when he reflects on all 
 the misery in the world, that still happiness predominates ; 
 for God is infinitely infinitely happy. 
 
 " The man who should go round the universe suppose, if 
 you will, that each of the numerous millions of stars known to 
 astronomers, is the centre of a system, and that each of these 
 innumerable worlds is as populous as our own ; yet the man, 
 who should, at one fell stroke, fill all these countless myriads of 
 beings to the very brim with wretchedness, would do in- 
 finitely 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 foun- 
 tain 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 him- 
 self cast down down down from his throne, to make room 
 for little insignificant worms of the dust. And what can be 
 worse than this ! Men talk about degrees of wickedness, be- 
 cause 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 347 
 
 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 obli- 
 ged to put you down down down, as low as you have degra- 
 ded him. If he should not do this, if, out of false pity to one 
 individual, he should pardon you without repentance ; that in- 
 stant, all the songs of heaven would stop, and all the happiness 
 of the universe would be dried up. Heaven, the habitation of 
 God's glory, where myriads of celestial intelligences are con- 
 templating his infinite perfections, would become, from a place 
 of perfect and unmingled happiness, a scene of unutterable, in- 
 conceivable misery. " Jehovah is no longer worthy to be trust- 
 ed ! 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*^ 
 
 In this connexion, we shall introduce a paragraph, commu- 
 nicated by a ministering brother, who occupied his pulpit on 
 the day in which the interview mentioned took place : 
 
 " As an instance of his strong fancy, and of the uses to 
 which he applied it, I will mention, that, on the last Sabbath 
 in which, with great difficulty, he entered the house of God, 
 he said to me, * I find in my illness, that the power of imag- 
 ination is un weakened, and that it is very easy for me to wan- 
 der 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 hu- 
 man form, answering if it were possible to his infinite na- 
 ture. 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 heav- 
 en. 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. 
 
348 MEMOIR OF 
 
 And shall we, then, presumptuously judge of the ways of this 
 God, and imagine that we could manage earthly things more 
 wisely than he 1 Shall we have any doubts as to his unfailing 
 wisdom, and perfect rectitude, and infinite goodness V I have 
 not been able to give you his words, 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 furnished by a gen- 
 tleman, who, for twelve years, had been only an occasional 
 attendant on his ministry. The first paragraph has no spe- 
 cial reference to this period, but may properly oe retained for 
 the value of its testimony : 
 
 " At the sacramental table, especially, did his mind appear 
 to be absorbed in the contemplation of things unseen and eter- 
 nal. To a candid observer it was manifest, at such seasons, 
 that his " fellowship was with the Father, and with his Son, Je- 
 sus Christ." I doubt not that I express the feelings of each 
 member of his church, when I say, that often, on these occa- 
 sions, he seemed to soar to the third heaven ; and by those fer- 
 vent 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 ocu- 
 lar survey of every scene connected with the humiliation and 
 exaltation of the Saviour. So strong was the mental impression 
 received, that I can still 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 re- 
 demption around the consecrated symbols of Christ's death. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 349 
 
 " I had the solemn pleasure, too, of being present at one of his 
 last cc^mmunion seasons with the church on earth. It wa;:. an 
 affecting, a soul-cheering scene. Its interest was greatly en- 
 hanced by the nearness in which he seemed to stand to the 
 communion of the church triumphant. His body was so ema- 
 ciated 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 joyful tran- 
 quillity, seemed entirely regardless of the weakness of its mor- 
 tal tenement. His right hand and arm were so palsied by dis- 
 ease, as to be quite useless ; except that, in the act of breaking 
 the bread, when he could not well dispense with it, he placed 
 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 religion, which can thus 
 make the soul tranquil and happy, in the constant and rapid 
 advances of decay and death ! 
 
 " I have never known Dr. Payson when he seemed more 
 abstracted from earth than on this occasion. It was, as he sup- 
 posed, and as his church feared, their final interview at that ta- 
 ble. In all the glowing fervor of devotion, assisted by his ever 
 fertile imagination, he contemplated the Saviour as visibly pres- 
 ent in the midst of them; and, with his usual eloquence and 
 closeness of appeal, he seemed to make each communicant feel, 
 that what he had imagined was a reality. There was a breath- 
 less silence ; and the solemnity of the scene could hardly have 
 been surpassed, if, as he expressed it, the Lord Jesus Christ 
 were seen sitting before them ; or addressing to each individual 
 member the momentous inquiry, " Lovest thou me f I can 
 say, for one, that the terrors of hypocrisy never swelled so fear- 
 ful, and the realities of the judgment-seat never seemed nearer, 
 than at that solemn hour. And I trust I and many others were 
 then enabled from the heart to pray, with the Psalmist, Search 
 me, O God, &c. 
 
 " From the occasional opportunities I have enjoyed of attend- 
 ing on Dr. Payson's administration of that ordinance, I can 
 have no doubt that they were to him foretastes of that supper 
 of the Lamb, on whose more blessed celebration he so trium- 
 phantly entered. And it is an interesting, a momentous ques- 
 tion, 
 
 " Shall we, who sat with him below, 
 Commune with him above V 
 
 30 
 
350 MEMOIR OF 
 
 On the first of July, he attended public worship, and, after a 
 sermon from his assistant, he rose and addressed his people 
 thus : 
 
 " Ever since I became a minister, it has been my earnest 
 wish, that I might die of some disease, which would allow me 
 to preach a farewell sermon to my people ; but as it is not proba- 
 ble that I shall ever be able to do this, I will attemj)t to say a 
 few words now : it may be the last time that I shall ever ad- 
 dress you. This is not merely a presentiment. It is an opin- 
 ion 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, O my hearers, if you have not 
 performed your duties better than I have mine, wo! wo! be to 
 you unless you have an Advocate and Intercessor in heaven. 
 We have lived together twenty years, and have spent more than 
 a thousand Sabbaths together, and I have given you at least two 
 thousand warnings. I am now going to render an account 
 Iww tliey 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 h ive 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 Chris- 
 tian 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 cer- 
 tainly ensured success in spiritual as in temporal affairs, he 
 said "It does; it is just as certain that prayers for spiritual 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 351 
 
 blessinors 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 spir- 
 itual blessings are not oftener attended with success, is, they 
 are not made in earnest. Never omit prayer, or any devotion- 
 al 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 lit- 
 tle 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 wsome plan with 
 regard to reading on the Sabbath. In the morning he recom- 
 mended reading the Scriptures exclusively, and afterwards 
 works intended to convey infr mation 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 affec- 
 tion which he might have left you." 
 
 ** We are accustomed to suppose that God's feelings to- 
 wards us vary according to our own; that when we are in a 
 lively spiritual frame of mind, he regards us with more com- 
 placency than at other times. This is not the case. The feel- 
 ings with which God regards us do not fluctuate like ours." 
 
 Aug. 5. Sabbath. This day, he entered the meeting-house 
 for 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 ; 
 
352 MEMOIR OF 
 
 then just girded for the warfare, now the veteran, who had 
 " fought the good fight," and was just going to resign his com- 
 mission, and receive a crown of unfading glory. He made a 
 great effort to go out, as there were twenty-one persons to be 
 admitted to the churcli. He was supported into the house by 
 his senior deacons ; and, although he merely read the cove- 
 nant, 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. How- 
 ever 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 educa- 
 tion. 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. 
 
 "If it is any satisfaction to you to know that you have as- 
 sisted 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 353 
 
 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 shatter- 
 ed 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 goc.d, 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 deration. 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 
 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 long- 
 er." 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 tumul- 
 tuous ; now all is calm and peaceful." He was asked, " In 
 30* 
 
354 MEMOIR OF 
 
 your anticipations of heaven, do you think of meeting departed 
 friends?" After a moment's reflection, he said, with a most ex- 
 pressive countenance, " If I meet Christ, 'tis no matter wheth- 
 er 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. Who would have thought that I must be reduced 
 to this state, helpless and crippled, to experience the highest 
 enjoyment !" 
 
 " You ought to feel happy, all ought to feel happy, who come 
 here, for they are within a few steps of heaven." During the 
 course of this conversation, he repeated this verse, " Thy sun 
 shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon withdraw itself; 
 for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of 
 thy mourning shall be ended." Turning to a young lady pres- 
 ent, 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 pro- 
 cession as being very long ; and, after climbing over the extend- 
 ed and heavy ranges of hills that bounded the way, some of 
 the foremost at length reached the top of the last hill, and, 
 stretching up their hands in gestures of joy, cried out, "The 
 Holy City ! 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 inconceiv- 
 able glory that is before them, and the preciousness of Christ, 
 they would not be able to refrain from going about, leaping 
 and clapping their hands for joy, and exclaiming, I'm a minister 
 of Christ ! I'm a minister of Christ !" 
 
 " When I read Bunyan's description of the land of Beulah, 
 where the sun shines and the birds sing day and night, I used 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 355 
 
 to doubt whether there was such a place ; but now my own ex- 
 perience 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 gener- 
 al assembly and church of the first born, and to God the Judge 
 of all." 
 
 During the night of September 17th, he was seized with 
 spasms, which, it seemed, must separate soul and body. It 
 was not thought by his physician, that he could survive a sec- 
 ond 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 Bunyan, I might 
 date this letter from the land of Beulah, of which I have been 
 for some weeks a happy inhabitant. The celestial city is full 
 in my view. Its glories beam upon me, its breezes fan me, its 
 odors are wafted to me, its sounds strike upon my ears, and 
 its spirit is breathed into my heart. Nothing separates me 
 from it but the river of death, which now appears but as an insig- 
 nificant rill, that may be crossed at a single step, whenever God 
 shall give permission. The Sun of Righteousness has been grad- 
 ually drawing nearer and nearer, appearing larger and brighter 
 as he approached, and now he fills the whole hemisphere ; pour- 
 ing 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 unut- 
 terable wonder, why God should deign thus to shine upon a sin- 
 ful worm. A single heart and a single tongue seem altogether 
 
 ^ ^ The sod's dark cottage, shattered and decayed, 
 Let in new light throu;:^h chinks v.hich thuc had made.' 
 
356 MEMOIR OF 
 
 inadequate to my wants : I want a whole heart for every sepa- 
 rate 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 Redeem^er ? It is because I 
 know not what to say. When I would speak of them, my words 
 are all swallowed up. I can only tell you what effects their 
 presence produces, and even of these I can tell you but very 
 little. O, my sister, my sister ! could you but know what 
 awaits the Christian ; could you know only so much as I know, 
 you 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 dun- 
 geon. You have known a little of my trials and conflicts, and 
 know that they have been neither few nor small ; and I hope 
 this glorious termination of them will serve to strengthen your 
 faith, and elevate your 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, 
 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 dreadful nocturnal attacks, but observed 
 that he could not calculate upon surviving another. In an- 
 swer 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, 1 have found happiness. There 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 357 
 
 can be no such thing as disappointment to me, for I have no 
 desires but that God's will may be accomplished." 
 
 " I 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 deal- 
 ing 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 so flat, when people tell me that it is just for God 
 to afflict me, as if justice did not require infinitely more." 
 
 He was asked, '* Do you feel reconciled?" "O! that is too 
 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. 23d, 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 over- 
 board ; but his companions know that he has only gone a short- 
 er 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." 
 
358 MEMOIR OF 
 
 " 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 heav- 
 en 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 might partake of my happiness." 
 
 Sept. 26. In answer to some complaints of one of the fam- 
 ily, he said " Perhaps there is nothing more trying to the 
 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 the revelation of Jesus Christ." A large portion of 
 the grace which Christians are to receive will be given to 
 them at the second coming of Christ, or immediately after 
 death ; and this will always be in proportion to their prayers 
 and exertions here. Christians need not, therefore, be dis- 
 couraged 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 rew^arded, 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 ii 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 de- 
 sponding, remember me; I have gone through all this, and 
 now you see the end." 
 
 To another " You recollect the story of David rescuing 
 the lamb from the lion and the bear. David loved the lamb 
 before he rescued it from danger ; but he loved it more after- 
 wards. 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." 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 359 
 
 '* 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 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 re- 
 moving me from all my usual sources of enjoyment ; I should 
 have thought it a very strange mode of accomplishing his pur- 
 pose. 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 wis- 
 dom he places the most entire confidence. He follows wher- 
 ever his father leads, though it may be through thorns and bri- 
 ers, cheerfully and contentedly. Another son, we will suppose, 
 distrusts his father's wisdom and love, and, when the path is 
 rough or uneven, begins to murmur and repine, wishing that 
 he might be allowed to choose his own path ; and though he 
 is obliged to follow, it is with great reluctance and discontent. 
 Now, the reason that Christians in general do not enjoy more 
 of God's presence, is, that they are not willing to walk in his 
 path, when it crosses their own inclinations. But we shall 
 never be happy, until we acquiesce with perfect cheerfulness 
 in all his decisions, and follow wherever he leads without a 
 murmur." 
 
 After it had become certain that he would never again leave 
 his chamber till he was carried out, yet, being unceasingly de- 
 sirous to benefit his people, he sent a request, which was an- 
 nounced from the pulpit, that they would repair to his chamber. 
 Once, it is believed, they came indiscriminately ; at other times 
 in specified classes, including as many as the chamber could 
 
360 MEMOIR OF 
 
 contain. When he had addressed to them collectively his last 
 most solemn and affectionate counsel, till compelled to desist 
 by the failure of his strength, he took them individually by the 
 hand, and, with a heavenly smile, bade them farewell ! 
 
 To members of his congregation, he spoke nearly as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 " It has often been remarked, that people who have been in- 
 to the other world, cannot come back to tell us what they have 
 seen ; but I am so near the eternal world, that I can see almost 
 as clearly as if I were there ; and I see enough to satisfy my- 
 self, at least, of the truth of the doctrines which I have preach- 
 ed. I do not know that I should feel at all surer, had I been 
 really there. 
 
 *' It is always interesting to see others in a situation in which 
 we know that we must shortly be placed ourselves; and we 
 all know that we must die. And to see a poor creature, when, 
 after an alternation of hopes and fears, he finds that his disease 
 is mortal, and death comes to tear him away from every thing 
 he loves, and crowds, and crowds him to the very verge of the 
 precipice of destruction, and then thrusts him down headlong! 
 There he is, cast intoan unknown world ; no friend, no Sav- 
 iour to receive him. 
 
 ** O, how different is this from the state of a man who is pre- 
 pared to die. He is not obliged to be crowded reluctantly 
 along ; but the other world comes like a great magnet, to draw 
 him away from this ; and he knows that he is going to enjoy, 
 and not only knows, but begins to taste it, perfect happi- 
 ness ; forever and ever ; forever and ever ! * '^ * * * 
 
 *' And now God is in this room ; I see him ; and O, how 
 unspeakably lovely and glorious does he appear, worthy of 
 ten thousand thousand hearts, if we had them. He is here, 
 and hears me pleading with the creatures that he has made, 
 whom he preserves, and loads with blessings, to love him. 
 And O, how terrible does it appear to me, to sin against this 
 God ; to set up our wills in opposition to his, and, when we 
 awake in the morning, instead of thinking, " What shall I do 
 to please my God to-day ?" 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 mis- 
 erable I should now be without religion. To lie here, and see 
 myself tottering on the verge of destruction ! O, I should be 
 distracted ! And 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. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 361 
 
 When people repent, they begin to see God's infinite perfec- 
 tions, how amiable and glorious he is, and the heart relents 
 and mourns that it has treated him so ungratefully. 
 
 " Suppose we should hear the sound of a man's voice plead- 
 ing earnestly with some one, but could not distinguish the 
 words; and we should inquire, ' What is that man pleading for 
 so earnestly?' * O, he is only pleading with a fellow creature 
 to love his God, his Saviour, his Preserver and Benefactor. He 
 is Oidy 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 to ac- 
 cept eternal happiness.' ' Is it possible,' we should exclaim, 
 'that any persuasion can be necessary for this?' and yet it is 
 necessary. O my friends, do, do love this glorious Being do 
 seek for the salvation of your immortal souls. Hear the voice 
 of your dying minister, while he entreats you to care for your 
 souls." 
 
 He afterwards said, " I am always sorry when I say any 
 thing to any one who comes in ; it seems so inadequate to 
 ^ what I wish to express. The words sink right down under 
 the weight of the meaning I wish to convey." 
 
 On another occasion, " I find no satisfaction in looking at 
 any thing I have done ; I want to leave all this behind, it is 
 nothing, and fly to Christ to be clothed in his 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 d^ne 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. " O !" exclaimed he, 
 *' the loving kindness of God his loving kindness ! This af- 
 ternoon, while I was meditating on it, the Lord seemed to pass 
 by, and proclaim himself ' The Lord, the Lord God, merciful 
 and gracious !' O how gracious ! Try to conceive of that, 
 his loving-kindness^ as if it were not enough to say kindness, 
 but loving kindness. What must be the loving kindness of 
 God, who is himself infinite love !" 
 
 " It seemed this afternoon as if Christ said to me, ' You have 
 often wondered and been impatient at the way by which I 
 31 
 
362 MEMOIR OF 
 
 have led you ; but what do you think of it now V And I was 
 cut to the heart, when 1 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 
 ministers 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 oth- 
 ers. He seemed pained with the thought that any should be 
 more deficient than he had been : " O, I hope it is not so ! I 
 hope it is not so V Referring to the peace which the gospel 
 afforded him under his trials, he said, " I have never half val- 
 ued, as I ought, the doctrines which I have preached. The 
 system is great and glorious, and is worthy of our utmost ef- 
 forts 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." 
 
 * * * * 
 
 " Speakinty 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 ex- 
 pressed 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 363 
 
 himself. " O how sovereign ! O how sovereign ! Grace is 
 the only thing that can make us like God. I might be drag- 
 ged 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 re- 
 plied, " Then do not preach ; I have too often preached when 
 I was not able." 
 
 " On taking leave, I expressed a hope that he might con- 
 tinue to enjoy the presence of God, and receive even increas- 
 ing peace, if he could bear it. " O !" said he, " when we 
 meet in heaven, we shall see how little we know abo^it 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." 
 
 October 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 in- 
 trude, 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 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, 
 &bc.. ; but we never confess envy or covetousness, or revenge, or 
 any thing that we suppose will lower us in the opinion of oth- 
 ers ; and this proves that we do not feel ashamed of coldness 
 or stupidity. In short, when young Christians make confes- 
 sions, unless there is an obvious call for them, it usually pro- 
 ceeds 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 discov- 
 ered and striven against it ; or they confess some fault, from 
 which they are remarkably free, in order to elicit a compli- 
 ment. 
 
 " 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 con- 
 
364 MEMOIR OF 
 
 stantly. When God permits every thing to go on very smooth- 
 ly, and grants us some comforts, our pride is gratified ; we are 
 pleased with ourselves, with God, and call the feeling grati- 
 tude, and with those around us ; we can be very pleasant 
 and obliging. But let this state of things be reversed ; let our 
 corruptions be suffered to break loose, and trials and conflicts 
 to assail us, then our pride is mortified ; we begin to fret and 
 repine, and say that all our endeavors are useless. You can- 
 not 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 in- 
 sensibly imbibe his spirit." 
 
 Notwithstanding his deep seriousness, there was occasionally 
 a pleasantry in his manner of expressing himself, which would 
 excite an involuntary smile : " What contrary and unreasona- 
 ble creatures we are ! The more God does for us, the less we 
 thank him. Here I am, stripped of more than half my bless- 
 ings, 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 bet- 
 ter I pay him, the more he won't grieve !' " 
 
 A gray-headed member of his church, who is usually very 
 abrupt in his address, but generally very scriptural, entered his 
 chamber one day with the salutation " Watchman, what of 
 the night?" ** I should think it was about noon-day" was 
 the answer. 
 
 On Sabbath day, Oct. 7,* it was the privileged lot of the 
 young men of the society to assemble, at his request, in his 
 chamber, when he addressed them in substance as follows : 
 
 " My young friends, you will all one day be obliged to em- 
 bark on the same voyage, on which I am just embarking ; and 
 
 * The dales in this chapter fix the time to which a part only of his observa- 
 tions must be referred ; generally the first, or first two or three paragraphs, which 
 follow thetn. The precise date of most of them is not recollected. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 365 
 
 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 peo- 
 ple 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 perfect- 
 ly, perfectly happy and peaceful more happy than 1 can pos- 
 sibly express to you. I lie here, and feel these convulsions ex- 
 tending 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 for ever. And now is this all a delusion ? Is it a de- 
 lusion which can fill the soul to overflowing with joy in such 
 circumstances 1 If so, it is surely a delusion better than any 
 reality. But no, it is not a delusion ; I feel that it is not. I do 
 not merely know that I shall enjoy all this I enjoy it now. 
 
 ** My young friends, were I master of the whole world, 
 what could it do for me like this 1 Were all its wealth at my 
 feet, and all its inhabitants striving to make me happy, what 
 could they do for me? Nothing ! nothing. Now, all this hap- 
 piness I trace back to the religion 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 believing that those capacities will be filled to the very 
 brim with joy or wretchedness for ever ; can it be wondered at, 
 that my heart yearns over you, my children, that you may 
 choose life, and not death ? Is it to be wondered at, that I long 
 to present every one of you with a full cup of happiness, and 
 see you drink it; that I long to have you make the same 
 choice which I made, and from which springs all my happiness ? 
 
366 MEMOIR OF 
 
 " A young man, just about to leave this world, exclaimed, 
 ' The battle's fought ! the battle's fought ! the battle's fought 1 
 but the victory is lost for ever.' But I can say, The battle's 
 fought, and the victory is ivon ! the victory is won, for ever ! 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, for ever and ever : amen." 
 
 Having delivered his dying messages to all classes among his 
 own flock, he commissioned a ministering brother to bear one 
 to the association of ministers, who were to meet in a few days. 
 The purport of it was * a hearty assurance of the ardent love 
 with which he remembered them even in death ; an exhorta- 
 tion to love one another with a pure heart fervently ; to love 
 their work, to be 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, re- 
 joice more than I can express, to be the bearer of such a mes- 
 sage ; for you, perhaps, are aware that many of your brethren 
 have thought you distant, and reserved, and as having cherish- 
 ed 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 / could not 
 sec who was falling around jncJ' 
 
 While speaking of the rapturous views he had of the heaven- 
 ly 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 ener- 
 gies, and to be ready to break from the body, and join those 
 around the throne." 
 
 A friend, with whom he had been conversing on his extreme 
 bodily sufferings, and his high spiritual joys, remarked " I 
 presume it is no longer incredible to you, if ever it was, that 
 martyrs should rejoice and praise God in the flames and on the 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 3(J7 
 
 rack." " No," said he, " I can easily believe it. I have suf- 
 fered 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 toler- 
 able, but welcome. The sufferings of this present time are not 
 worthy to he compared with the glory that shall he revealed^ 
 
 At another time, " God is literally now my all in all. 
 While he is present with me, no event can in the least dimin- 
 ish my happiness ; and were the whole world at my feet, trying 
 to minister to my comfort, they could not add one drop to the 
 cup." 
 
 " It seems as if the promise, ^' God shall wipe away all tears 
 from their eyes," 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 solici- 
 tude, it would show that you distrusted one or the other of 
 these. Now all your concerns are in the hands of a merciful 
 and wise Father ; therefore, it is an insult to him to be careful 
 and anxious concerning them. Trust him for all, abilities, 
 success, and every thing else, and you will never have reason 
 to repent it." 
 
 At one time, he was heard to break forth in the following 
 soliloquy : 
 
 " What an assemblage of motives to holiness does the gospel 
 present ! I am a Christian what then ? Why, I am a re- 
 deemed sinner a pardoned rebel all through grace, and by 
 the most wonderful means v/hich infinite wisdom could devise. 
 I am a Christian what then ? Why, I am a temple of God, 
 and surely I ought to be pure and holy. I am a Christian 
 what then ? I am a child of God, and ought to be filled with 
 filial love, reverence, joy, and gratitude. I am a Christian 
 
368 MEMOIR OF 
 
 what then ? Why, I am a disciple of Christ, and must imitate 
 him who was meek and lowly in heart, and pleased not him- 
 self. 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. Pay son, who, while ministering to him, had observ- 
 ed, " Your head feels hot, and seems to be distended," he re- 
 plied " It seems as if the soul disdained such a narrow pris- 
 on, and was determined to break through with an angel's en- 
 ergy, and, I trust, with no small portion of an angel's feeling, 
 until it mounts on high." 
 
 Again, " It seems as if my soul had found a pair of new 
 wings, and was so eager to try them, that, in her fluttering, she 
 would rend the fine net-work of the body to pieces." 
 
 At another time, '" My dear, I should think it might encour- 
 age and strengthen you, under whatever trials you may be 
 called to endure, to remember me. O ! you must believe that 
 it will be great peace at last." 
 
 At another time, he said to her, ^' After I am gone, you 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 near- 
 er 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 im- 
 age, 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 could 
 trust them all in the hands of Christ. To feel any undue so- 
 licitude on their account, or to be unwilling 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.' 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 369 
 
 Conversing with a friend on his preparation for his depart- 
 ure, 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 ex- 
 pression 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 tenderness, and 
 compassion, with which he regarded the child, made an indel- 
 ible impression on all present. 
 
 At his request, some of the choir, belonging to the congre- 
 gation, 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 ac- 
 customed to repeat, as a favorite expression, " I will bless the 
 Lord at all times, ^^ 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 apprehensions 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 affection- 
 ately, and said " God bless you, my daughter !" Several of 
 the church were soon collected at his bedside ; he smiled on 
 them all, but said little, as his power of utterance had nearly 
 
370 MEMOIR OF 
 
 failed. Once he exclaimed, " Peace ! peace ! Victory ! victo- 
 ry !" 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, ex- 
 pecting 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 resign- 
 ed. 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 
 which he had watchers. The friend who attended him through 
 his last night, read to him, at his request, the twelfth chapter 
 of the second epistle to the Corinthians ; parts of which must 
 have been peculiarly applicable to his case. 
 
 On Monday morning, his dying agonies returned in all their 
 extremity. For three hours, evc^ry breath was a groan. On 
 being asked if his sufferings were greater than on the preced- 
 ing Friday night, he answered, *' Incomparably greater." He 
 said that the greatest temporal blessing, of which he could con- 
 ceive, would be one breath of air. Mrs. Payson, fearing, from 
 the expression of suffering in his countenance, that he was in 
 mental as well as bodily anguish, questioned him on the sub- 
 ject. With extreme difficulty he was enabled to articulate the 
 words, " Faith 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 
 recognise 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 371 
 
 dies grasping his treasure. Dr. Payson directed a label to be at- 
 tached to his breast, with the words Remember the words which 
 I spake unto you ivhile I was yet present with you ; that they 
 might be read by all who came to look at his corpse, and by 
 wiiich 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 Jen- 
 kins, pastor of the Third Church in Portland, from 2 Timo- 
 thy, iv. 6, 7, 8 1 am now ready to he ojfered, &c. " The 
 gates of this Zion mourn," said Mr. Jenkins, in his introduc- 
 tory paragraph ; '^ for her watchman sleeps in death. He has 
 ^ finished his course.' His voice has ceased for ever 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 for ever 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 righ- 
 teousness, as the stars for ever and ever.' We have stood gaz- 
 ing 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, be- 
 hold him wearing a 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 sub- 
 ject, 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 of- 
 fer 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 
 
372 MEMOIR OF 
 
 this illustration. Instead of detaining you with such low views 
 on those lofty themes, I would have lifted you up from the 
 low level of our ordinary thoughts, by repeating some of those 
 ' burning words and breathing thoughts' that his departing 
 soul expressed. And even now I may not be denied the privilege 
 of exalting the grace of God, by repeating a few of his expres- 
 sions, indicating the nature, objects, and grounds of his assur- 
 ance, as he stood on the borders of two worlds." 
 # # * * 
 
 " Surely, he who could utter such language was ready to he 
 offered he had fought a good fight ; he had finished his 
 course in triumph, and now wears the victor's crown of righ- 
 teousness. His * witness is in heaven ; his record is on high ;' 
 and there his eternal weight of glory is begun. 
 
 '* And what shall I say more ? I might speak of his gifted 
 intellect I might dwell on its wonderful powers of combina- 
 tion ; on that excursive faculty, which, for ever 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 had so conspicuously the Christian stamp. In this re- 
 spect, 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 rather were the element of, his thoughts and 
 efforts. His natural ardor of temperament doubtless affected, 
 not a little, his religious exercises. It gave them violence and 
 energy. His seasons of spiritual elevation were heaven 
 brought down to earth. His seasons of religious depression 
 resembled the storms of autumn, sudden, dark, threatening 
 leaving a serener and purer sky, but betokening that winter is 
 approaching. He was pre-eminently a man of prayer. There 
 was in his prayers a copiousness, a fervor, a familiarity, a 
 reaching forth of the soul into eternity, that was almost pecu- 
 liar 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 el- 
 oquence 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 373 
 
 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 commu- 
 nity it is great. Few, at his period of life, have left an influ- 
 ence operating so widely and usefully on the moral and relig- 
 ious condition of men. That influence has gone very far. It 
 is flying, and will long be flying among the winged messen- 
 gers 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 developement of facts, from 
 which that character may be more accurately and minutely 
 known. 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 irritabilc 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 w as 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 animadver- 
 sion.* Nervous irritability, with its consequent depression, was 
 
 * 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 atfected j 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 5 his was in part the sia 
 of ignorance. The case is now different. Much has been said, and much writ- 
 ten on the subject 5 and there is in the Christian Spectator for April, 1827, an 
 essay on the Iiifluence of Nervous Disorders upon Religious Experience, which 
 ou^ht to be read in connexion with this Memoir. 
 
 In an earlier number of the same work, (April, 1826,) is an article On the 
 Mutual Infuence of the Mind and Bodij, an inquiry which is deserving the con- 
 sideration of all who would judge rightly of the phenomena that are sometimes 
 witnessed in the subjects of nc^rvous affections. We quote a few sentences : 
 
 32 
 
374 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 seems to have had it so far under his control, that 
 it seldom, if ever, diminished his usefulness, or the amount of 
 his active services, or was attended with ill effects in relation 
 to others. He was not incessantly doling out his complaints 
 into the ears of his fellow-creatures ; he kept them chiefly to 
 himself He was too wise to sue for sympathy from " nerves 
 of wire." 
 
 His melancholy never, in a single instance, that is recollect- 
 ed, brought him into * bondage through fear of death.' He 
 invariably contemplated an exchange of worlds with compla- 
 cency, 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 try- 
 ing 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 
 
 '^ All these feelings are not in such cases strictly moral; nor are we accounta- 
 ble 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 ik) 
 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 ridi- 
 culed, passes long and wretched hours in tlie miserable world presented 
 through the medium of a diseased mind, till death sweeps him and 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 v>^hom Dyspepsy has laid her leaden hand, quenching the tire of feeling 
 and imagination, checking the flow of intellect, and haunting Ihe mind with 
 spectral apparitions of unreal evil." 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 375 
 
 of war and public calamity, his mind was, if ever, kept in 
 perfect peace. The most undisturbed composure and resigna- 
 tion were apparent in him, when the objects of his dearest 
 earthly affections were languishing and undergoing mortal ag- 
 onies before his eyes ; the same was true when tortures like 
 those of the rack seized and convulsed his 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 al- 
 most insupportable weight at some times when faith and hope 
 co-existed with it. In all his private writings, no expressions 
 have been found indicative of a more keen sense of suffering 
 from this cause, than some which he penned, when his hope 
 of heaven existed to a degree amounting almost to assurance. 
 " This oppressive melancholy cut the very sinews of the soul, 
 so that it could not throw off the load." 
 
 This malady may be regarded as having reached its climax 
 during his first essays as a preacher. There had been causes 
 favoring its rapid progress, which did not afterwards exist. 
 And, notwithstanding the greater subsequent prostration of his 
 health, its general symptoms wore a mitigated aspect, and be- 
 came less distressing from year to year. Some short seasons 
 are to be excepted from this general remark, particularly por- 
 tions 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 de- 
 gree, the exercises of his mind and his religious affections. 
 Hence we have seen him writing bitter things against himself, 
 for causes which, with a different temperament, would have 
 given him little uneasiness. We have seen him, at times, 
 " poring so closely over his own frame of mind, as scarcely to 
 be able to lift up his eyes to the cross ; or, if his eyes glanced 
 that way, they were so suffused with penitential tears, that 
 they saw but dimly the merit of the Saviour's blood, the com- 
 
376 MEMOIR OF 
 
 passions 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 frames, that, without being conscious of it at 
 the time, the obtaining of such frames was, perhaps, the im- 
 mediate 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 chas- 
 tisement which he suffered in consequence, he in his last days 
 held forth as a warning to a near relative, whom he supposed 
 to be in danger of a similar mistake. 
 
 His religion also, in his own view, was, for a time at least, 
 tinged with romance. This resulted from his ardor of temper- 
 ament. " By religious romance," he once said in conversa- 
 tion, " 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, ex- 
 pect 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, watchful- 
 ness, 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 genu- 
 ineness, or scarcely to obscure them. The features which 
 proclaimed its heavenly origin and its heavenly tendency, were 
 strongly marked and abiding. Almost from its commence- 
 ment, we have seen hiin habitually discriminating between 
 * the real and the imaginary, the scriptural and the erroneous, 
 the precious and the vile,' in his own religious emotions. He 
 has 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 broken^ 
 ness 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 neverthe- 
 less 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 377 
 
 awaken degrading and earthly associations. The impression 
 must be deeply imprinted on every reader, that the intercourse 
 which he maintained with God was a holy intercourse. While 
 he was filled with the highest admiration of the condescension 
 of God, and talked with him almost with the same familiarity 
 with which a man addresses his friend ; it was still with the 
 profoundest reverence, and with a deep-seated consciousness 
 of the distance between the Creator and the creature a char- 
 acteristic which belongs to no enthusiast. 
 
 His devotional contemplations, even when they have most 
 the appearance of extravagance, differ widely from the reve- 
 ries of the enthusiast. He is no where seen regarding him- 
 self as the only creature in the universe, or as the peculiar fa- 
 vorite 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 uni- 
 verse 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 contempla- 
 ted 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 
 were 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 min- 
 istry ; 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 infre- 
 quent 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 seem to have been deficient 
 in relative duty ; and when duties of this class were greatly 
 multiplied, he was a pattern of fidelity, punctuality, and per- 
 severance. His practice of all the moral virtues was so exact 
 and thorough, that the bitterest enemy was unable to detect 
 any delinquency. And with a heart full charged with benev- 
 olence, he was ever ' doing good to all men as he had opportu- 
 nity, 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 scruti- 
 ny than Dr. Payson. He was remarkably free from one class 
 of indulgences, to which his constitution and often infirmities 
 32* 
 
378 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 in- 
 fluence of those agitated and desponding feelings with which 
 he left the conference room,* and there were two or three 
 such occurrences in the course of his life, he would, probably, 
 have appeared rash, petulant, and unreasonably severe ; and 
 this sudden tide of disagreeable feelings would have been taken 
 for his general character. A stranger would not know, what 
 his church knew, that, by the time he had reached his home, 
 he had assumed to himself the blame which he had charged 
 upon them; and that, the first opportunity, he would meet 
 them with 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 effec- 
 tual 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 ready to spend and be spent for their 
 salvation. Mutual confession and forgiveness has a wonder- 
 ful effect in softening the heart, and preparing it for the recep- 
 tion 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 ad- 
 mit. He did not pass through life without encountering in- 
 juries, which were aimed at his dearest and tenderest inter- 
 ests ; which were wounding to the feelings, and would have 
 exasperated a man less under the influence of a Christian tem- 
 per 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 
 
 * Page 339. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 379 
 
 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 fa- 
 miliarly acquainted. The result is most honorable to the de- 
 parted 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 mention- 
 ed 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 inju- 
 ries which were aimed at his reputation, and were designed, 
 by affecting his character, to weaken his influence, and ob- 
 struct his usefulness,^ and, therefore, incomparably more griev- 
 ous 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 instan- 
 ces are few indeed, in which he passes any direct censure 
 upon a fellow creature. Always bold and faithful to rebuke 
 sin, when he met its perpetrator face to face, he was equally 
 tender towards the guilty, in circumstances where severity 
 could do nothing towards reclaiming him. The sins of others 
 he had no wish to perpetuate. He seeks forgiveness for them 
 in private prayer, and spreads over them a mantle broad 
 enough to " cover a multitude of sins." How deeply learned 
 must he have been in the school of Christ, thus to ' love his 
 enemies, to bless them that cursed him, to do good to them 
 that hated him, and to pray for them who despite fully used 
 and persecuted him V 
 
 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, " O, do not that abominable thing 
 which I hate !" It was in its relation to God and his law, 
 that he viewed it, and learned its nature ; and not merely 
 from its effects on the well-being and happiness of man. The 
 guilt and pollution of sin were, beyond expression, hateful to 
 him. He dreaded its contamination more than death more 
 than he did the gnawings of the never-dying worm. Hell 
 
380 MEMOIR OF 
 
 itself had fewer terrors for him than sin. The latter was his 
 torment and his grief; but how rarely was he troubled with 
 apprehensions of the former ! That, he freely acknowledg- 
 ed, he deserved ; but it was this, which filled him with dis- 
 tress. This was the burden of his private lamentations ; the 
 foe to God and man which he deprecated, denounced, and ab- 
 jured 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 contin- 
 ually 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 ap- 
 proach ; 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 lan- 
 guage, he * seemed to himself to be walking on a hair, and 
 hardly dared to go to his meals, lest he should say or do some- 
 thing that might disgrace the ministry or hurt the cause.of re- 
 ligion :' " what clearing of himself" from all consciousness 
 and all imputations of allowed sin, so as to draw forth the ac- 
 knowledgment from the most abandoned, that he was a man 
 of God, 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 hav- 
 ing ever been rebellious, or for having, after he became a will- 
 ing 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 to offend 
 his God and wound his Redeemer ! " what vehement de- 
 sire" 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 holi- 
 ness !" " what zeal" in his conflict with this perpetually an- 
 noying 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 en- 
 throned 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 381 
 
 divine revelation. This was strikingly apparent from the time 
 when he first knew its value by experience, by his making it 
 his almost exclusive study, as a preparation for preaching, and 
 by his daily devotion to it till his death. He had no favorite 
 dogma, no figment of the imagination, no theoretical specula- 
 tion or practical views, which he was not ready to discard at 
 once, if they were seen to clash in the least with the Scriptures 
 of truth. These were his chart, his pole-star, his * light shi- 
 ning in a dark place, to which he did well to take heed.' He 
 opened them with the docility of a child, and ' drank in the 
 sincere milk of the word' with exquisite relish. To him they 
 were * more precious than gold, sweeter than honey, and more 
 highly prized than his necessary food.' And in this love and 
 reverence for the Scriptures may be seen the reason, why, con- 
 stituted as he was, he was never led astray by the pride of opin- 
 ion, never drawn into ensnaring errors by his salient imagi- 
 nation. Every thought, sentiment, fancy, and opinion was daily 
 corrected by the word of God. It was this steadfast adherence 
 to his Rule, that kept him in ** the good and right way." 
 
 The last mark of the genuineness of his religion which will be 
 noticed, is his perseverance. Had his fervor of affection aba- 
 ted, 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 sus- 
 picion, as being nothing better than a species of religious 
 wild-fire. But, as it has been well remarked by a late writer, 
 ** Where there is no error of imagination no misjudging of 
 realities no calculations which reason condemns there is no 
 enthusiasm, even though the soul may be on fire with the ve- 
 locity of its movement in pursuit of its chosen object." With 
 the velocity with which he had commenced his race, he con- 
 tinued to move, accelerated, too, by the momentum which he 
 had acquired in his progress. His religion was * the water 
 which Christ gives, and was in him a well of water, springing 
 up into everlasting life.' These remarks apply to his perfor- 
 mance of particular duties, as well as to his general progress. 
 One of his own precious " gems of thought" will here be introdu- 
 ced 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 
 
382 MEMOIR OF 
 
 property which they ought to contribute to religious uses. This 
 is as if a child should go to his father, and say, " Father, how 
 many times in the day must I come to you with some testimo- 
 nial of my love ? how often will it be necessary to show my affec- 
 tion 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 increas- 
 ing reasons for increased love, zeal, and duty. His ' religious 
 emotions were strengthened by constant exercise,' and the ut- 
 terance 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 obedi- 
 ence of Christ." Circumstances in themselves trifling often 
 have important influence on the character ; and nothing is un- 
 worthy of regard, which helps to prevent our hearts from wan- 
 dering from God, or to recall them when they stray, or to keep 
 alive the sense of our religious obligations. When there are so 
 many allurements and temptations to stray, as this world pre- 
 sents, addressed to hearts so vulnerable and so easily deceived, 
 it is well to have a monitor in every object we behold ; to make 
 inanimate things our counsellors ; to 
 
 " Find tongues in trees, books in the running- brooks, 
 Sermons in stones, and good in every thing 5" 
 
 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 3g3 
 
 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 : 
 
 " Rutherford remarks, * I have set apart some time, morn- 
 ing, noon, and night, for prayer, reading the Scriptures, med- 
 itation, &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 careful to spend time profit- 
 ably 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 con- 
 sideration as a minister : 
 
 " Jesus was a tender-hearted minister, a faithful minister, a 
 laborious, painful minister, a minister who delighted in the 
 siiccess of his ministry, a minister v/ho lived up to his doctrine, 
 d. minister who maintained communion with God." 
 
384 MEMOIR OF 
 
 " 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, pre- 
 tending they have done their duty, and that the event is God's, 
 they 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 con- 
 scientious regard to "whatsoever things are lovely and of good 
 report." 
 
 The preceding pages contain a tolerably complete perhaps 
 too complete exhibition of Dr. Payson's religious character. 
 It has been found a very serious and difficult question, how far 
 it is justifiable to submit to the inspection of good and bad, 
 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 con- 
 siderations 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, how- 
 ever, 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 com- 
 mendatory 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 em- 
 balm their virtues, may have led him to throve 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, not- 
 v/ithstanding their apparently miscellaneous character, to have 
 an intimate relation to the whole, and to, reciprocally, modify 
 and explain each other. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 385 
 
 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 w^as 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 the fla'^nes, for a season, at the almost forcible 
 interposition of his family. As the time of his departure ap- 
 proached, 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 occa- 
 sionally, 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 pa- 
 tience 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 
 
 * It was intimated to the compiler by a friend, during the progress of the sec- 
 ond edition of this work through the press, that but partial justice had been 
 awarded to Dr. Payson, in what was said of his intellectual character and clas- 
 sical attainments, while a member of college. The intimation was accompa- 
 nied with a reference to an authentic source of information a source to which 
 he now wonders that it had not sooner occurred to him to apply. The result of 
 his late application was the following very satisfactory letter, which, much to 
 his regret, cannot now be incorporated with, and made to modify, that part of 
 the narrative to which it belongs : 
 
 " Wethersfidd, June 18, 1830. 
 " My dear Brother, 
 
 " In compliance with your request, I suggest a few hints relating to a part 
 of the college-life of the dear and nmch lamented Payson. For the two last 
 years, I was one of his tutors indeed, his particular tutor. That particularity, 
 however, was little more than nominal, predicated upon a weekly recitation in 
 history. Not more than one third of his literary performances were in my pres- 
 ence. His principal recitations to me were in geometry and natural philosophy. 
 
 ''All the favorable testimonies which your excellent Memoir contains, relat- 
 ing to his college-life, are unquestionably correct; and I cannot but think, that 
 he was ''regarded as" "more than a decent scholar by his associates and 
 teachers generally." His class-mate, the Rev. Mr. K. of Ipswich, agrees with 
 me in ranking him among the best quarter of his class. Mr. K. is confident 
 
 33 
 
386 MEMOIR OF 
 
 purposes for which he employed them. This may be done by 
 introducing an extract, addressed to his church and congrega- 
 tion 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 acquisi- 
 tions 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 communi- 
 cate to his fellow men. 
 
 "Among the valuable qualities, with which it pleased the 
 great Author of his mind to endow him, fancy or imagination 
 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 charac- 
 teristic of his preaching. Nor am I persuaded that the high- 
 est 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 differ- 
 ent. We do not set out with clear, unquestioned definitions, 
 and adequate notions. Our very conceptions of spiritual truths 
 must be aided by means of the objects presented to our sen- 
 ses. The imagination must assist the intellect. Without 
 this imaginative faculty, this power of comparing different ob- 
 jects, of perceiving the analogies of the universe, I do not 
 
 that a forensic disputation, a very lionorable part, was assigned to hini for per- 
 formance at commencement ; which failed in consequence of the indisposition 
 of his much respected associate, now the Rev. Dr. W. 
 
 "Is it not injurious to the cause of Hterary improvement, that thepupilag-e of 
 such a man as Dr. Payson should be represented as manifesting no more than 
 ordinary scholarship ? As far as a pretty extensive observation has enabled me 
 to judge, the college standing of students is, in general, a good index of their re- 
 spectability the rest of their days. 
 
 " With regard to Dr. P.'s religious experience, the probability seems very 
 strong, that he first tasted the immortal fountain at Portland. I cannot find the 
 least evidence of any fruits of evangelical holiness before the year 1804 or 1805. 
 " Respectfully yours, J. E." 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 387 
 
 know how we can form the best notions of the divine attri- 
 butes ; and sure I am, that without this faculty we are ill qual- 
 ified 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 ob- 
 scure. 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 trans- 
 port his hearers, as it were, in spite of themselves, to the deep 
 and never-opened prison, where is weeping, wailing, and gnash- 
 ing of teeth, and also to the bright, and pure, and all-glori- 
 ous 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 
 active 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 imao-ina- 
 tion as the predominant characteristic in the structure of his 
 mind ; and it is often referred to as a simple faculty, involvino" 
 the exercise of no other powers. A distinct and lively percep- 
 tion 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 de- 
 voted himself to the Muses, he might have taken a high rank 
 among the '' sons of song." As it was, the inspiration of poe- 
 
388 MEMOIR OF 
 
 try pervades his moral and religious discussions, and in a mcin- 
 ner altogether as agreeable, and far more useful, than if it werf3 
 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 religious 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 prayerful investigation. Too much has been ascribed 
 to his genius, and too little to his industry. His native talents 
 were indeed of a high order, but they were strengthened by cul- 
 tivation 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 conclu- 
 sions to which he was conducted by his own investigations, the 
 conceptions which existed in his own mind, he did often com- 
 municate to others by analogies, similitudes, and imagined 
 cases ; and this, it is conceived, is their legitimate use. 
 
 He had a high relish for literary pursuits, and greatly enjoy- 
 ed the society of literary men. And it will be regarded, by 
 those who are able to appreciate it, as one of the most remark- 
 
 * His dreaming imaginations were, sometimes at least, as regular and instruc- 
 tive 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. 389 
 
 able instances of his self-denial, that he could abandon a pleas- 
 ure 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 s'ake 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 im- 
 mediately connected with the immortal destinies of men, suffi- 
 cient to employ his time, and task his best powers. To learning 
 of doubtful utility, 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 philoso- 
 pher. In the philosophy of that department, in which he shone 
 pre-eminently, he had the start of the age. He anticipated the 
 substantial improvements in the manner of conducting theolog- 
 ical 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 regard- 
 ed 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 ascer- 
 tain those boundaries, which separate what may be known by 
 man, from that which must for ever 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 to their children." And among the 
 " things that are revealed," he distinguished between those 
 which are capable of receiving elucidation from human discus- 
 sion, and those that mock all human explanation, and with re- 
 spect to which the very attempt would be * darkening counsel 
 by words without knowledge.' There was no doctrine found 
 33* 
 
390 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 con- 
 science, to have every doctrine excite its correspondent emo- 
 tion, 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 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 dis- 
 sociated 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 metaphys- 
 ical 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 conceal- 
 ed 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. Pay son's practical ser- 
 mons, particularly such a sermon as that in which fraud is 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 391 
 
 exposed and condemned ; and other evil practices did not 
 receive a w^hit more indulgence from him. 
 
 Others, again, who vi^ere at a loss to account, on satisfacto- 
 ry principles, for the attraction which drew and bound so many 
 to him, have ascribed his influence to different causes ; as, 
 an artful and impassioned oratory, a talent for amusing an 
 audience, and even to rant ! No flattering compliment, to be 
 sure, to his hearers ; but it should be stated, by way of apology 
 for these surmises, that their authors lived at a distance, and 
 did not know him. A little knowledge of human nature might 
 have been sufficient to correct such an error. No man, by 
 such means, could have sustained a growing reputation, in 
 the same place, for a period of twenty years, receiving contin- 
 ual 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 unwel- 
 come 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 atti- 
 tudes 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 mes- 
 sage and by a member of his church too " not to make 
 Christians too fast." To say nothing of the brotherly-kind- 
 ness 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 hypocrites ? If such characters found 
 their way into Dr. Payson's church, his skirts are clear of their 
 
392 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 surpris- 
 ing, 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 re- 
 moved, the massive body would fall to pieces. This expecta- 
 tion 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 ex- 
 pression 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 with what he did. The foundation of his 
 eminence, and of his influence, was laid in a deep, experimen- 
 tal knowledge of those spiritual subjects which constituted the 
 themes of his addresses to his fellow men. This quality of a 
 religious teacher has been well presented, and its influence 
 illustrated, by a reviewer of his sermons in the Christian Spec- 
 tator. Speaking of Dr. Payson, he remarks : 
 
 " Like the beloved apostle, whom he somewhat resembled 
 in the strength of his imagination, and in the affections of his 
 heart, he speaks as if from actual observation. His language, 
 in the impression which it makes upon the mind, is, '' That 
 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." In perusing these sermons, it seems as 
 if their author had actually seen with his own eyes the spirit- 
 ual objects he describes, that he had actually heard from 
 Christ, talking with him face to face, the truths which he de- 
 clares. The man who has thus seen spiritual objects with the 
 clear eye of faith, is acquainted with them in their minutest 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 393 
 
 parts, and can therefore communicate instruction respecting 
 them with a familiarity, clearness, and impressive interest, 
 which we in vain look for in any other. There is the same 
 difference between the sermons of such a man, and those of 
 the man whose knowledge is derived more from the experi- 
 ence of others than from his own, that there is in the descrip- 
 tion of a country, by one who has drawn his information from 
 books of travels, and that given by him who writes upon the 
 spot, with the objects themselves before him. A compilation, 
 though made by an author of talents, cannot compare in interest 
 with an original work by a man, even of inferior abilities, who, 
 in addition to the means of knowledge possessed by the other, 
 has enjoyed the advantage of personal observation. * * * 
 
 " The professed theologian may give general views of the 
 divine government, of its multiplied relations, of its friends 
 and enemies ; he may present to his hearers if we may ven- 
 ture on the expression the statistics of heaven and hell ; and 
 yet what he says may consist of such meager statements, as to 
 awaken but little interest in any except those who have made 
 theology their study. A correct synopsis of Christian doc- 
 trine is not the same as a full exhibition of practical Christian- 
 ity. As a mere intellectual effort, an infidel can present an 
 outline of the doctrines of the gospel ; but none but a pious 
 man can write such a book as Wilberforce's Practical View of 
 Christianity, because none but a pious man can have experi- 
 enced what is there described in almost every page ; and, with- 
 out experience, it would be as difficult to frame these descrip- 
 tions, as for a l3lind man to write a work on colors. The more 
 extensive the experience, the more minute will be the knowl- 
 edge, and the more full its exhibition to others. There are 
 degrees of spiritual illumination. Some Christian ministers 
 do not see spiritual objects in as strong a light as others ; and 
 while they suffer this partial darkness to remain in their minds, 
 they cannot exhibit these objects to their hearers in their ut- 
 most distinctness. Such a one may give correct general views, 
 but they are comparatively cold and shadowy. He may use 
 the same words which eminent Christians have used in describ- 
 ing Christian experience, but they seem to stand as mere words 
 in his mind. 
 
 " On the other hand, the author of the sermons under con- 
 sideration evidently enjoyed a high degree of spiritual illumi- 
 nation. He seems to have an abundant stock of materials in 
 his own mind. He not only can present a general outline, but, 
 like the traveller to recur to our illustration he can fill up the 
 picture with what his own eyes have seen. When he men- 
 
394 MEMOIR OF 
 
 tions faith and repentance, he speaks as one who has looked upon 
 the very objects towards which these graces are directed ; and 
 he is therefore able to make others see the same objects like- 
 wise, and to feel as he has himself felt towards them. When 
 he speaks of God, he speaks as if he had walked with him, and 
 knew him intimately. When he describes the character of 
 Christ, he describes it as if he had followed him closely, and 
 knew exactly how he walked. He speaks of the Holy Ghost, 
 as if he had felt his power upon his own soul in his convin- 
 cing 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 en- 
 joyed just before his death, as described in a letter to his sister. 
 * * * * 
 
 " The man who has had such visions of heaven, will speak 
 of eternal realities with a truth that others will strive in vain 
 to imitate ; and he will be listened to with the same deep feel- 
 ing which the words of one would create, who had actually 
 risen from the grave, and come back to his brethren of the hu- 
 man family, to give them an account of the secrets of the in- 
 visible 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 in- 
 stance, as relate to the Saviour's death, which was commemo- 
 rated 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 rela- 
 tion. Christ 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 pre- 
 rogatives and glories of Mediatorship. He sought continually 
 to bring Christ before the eyes of sinners, for whom he had 
 suffered, bled, and died. Christ v/as 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 scru- 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 395 
 
 pulousness 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, hortor, preach, and 
 show to dying men, as the ' confidence of all the ends of the 
 earth.' "* 
 
 Dr. Payson was a preacher whom none could hear with in- 
 difference. His discrimination of characters, and adapt^dion 
 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 im* 
 penitent, rendered it impossible for them to hear him unmoved. 
 " He showed an intimacy in the secret chambers of the hu- 
 man 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, hum- 
 bling facts respecting his motives of action ; described his er- 
 rors and self-deceptions with a fairness and exactness which 
 could iiot easily be disputed ; showed the hazards of his un- 
 scriptural 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 hear him no more, the resolution was but a 
 thread of tow amidst the fires of conscience. 
 
 " But he preached to the consciences of those in the church 
 who were in a state of spiritual declension, as well as to those 
 who were living in impenitence. While he who had confess- 
 edly no hope, and the self-deceived, were made to tremble, the 
 wanderer from the fold of Christ was also made to feel and to 
 confess, * I have sinned ; what shall I say V Come, and let 
 us return unto the Lord.' "* 
 
 * In his preaching he was a.ccustomed to discriminate close- 
 ly between religion in name and profession, and religion in 
 fact ; to present the high and serious tests furnished by the 
 word of God ; to render careful and faithful assistance to the 
 professing Christian, in ascertaining the presence or absence 
 of grace. This was not done in a way of random skepticism, 
 into which ministers and private Christians sometimes fall, 
 and in which painful uncertainty about one's spiritual state is 
 still unrelieved by fair examination. It was a discrimination 
 
 ^ Spirit of the Pilgrims. 
 
396 MEMOIR OF 
 
 made by presenting the Scripture view of the evidences of 
 grace, and the Scripture account of the modes and dangers of 
 mistake respecting the existence of those evidences.' 
 
 ^* 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 them- 
 selves, to promote the tenderness of godly sorrow, and like- 
 wise 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 heav- 
 en, were the objects of much of his preaching. He sought 
 to promote in Christians the progress and enjoyments of holi- 
 ness 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 oth- 
 ers, 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 fly- 
 ing 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 practi- 
 cal 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, with- 
 out this devotedness of feeling to the spiritual welfare of his 
 hearers, he never could have exerted that moral power upon 
 their minds, which attended his ministrations. It has ever 
 been true, that those who have distinguished themselves on the 
 
 * Spirit of the Pilgrims. 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 397 
 
 broad theatre of human exertion, in arts, in arms, in science, and 
 in moral enterprise, have likewise been distinguished for the en- 
 thusiasm 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 ex- 
 citement of the feelings. It moreover renders the mind in- 
 genious in discovering and creating means for the accomplish- 
 ment 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.' Ev- 
 ery thing was subservient to this object. Having a full heart 
 and a full mind, persuasion dwelt upon his lips. He felt emo- 
 tion, and therefore expressed it. His heart is always awake. 
 His zeal for the house of God glowed in his breast like a con- 
 suming 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 
 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 already 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, 
 
 * Christian Spectator. 
 
 t The editor of his posthumous sermons, during- the progress of the volume, 
 in answering inquiries respecting them, was frequently interrupted with " 1 
 hope such a sermon will be one" the subject being named at the same time. 
 This wish was heard, not from inhabitants of Portland only, but from others, 
 who had changed this residence for another, from five to fifteen years before. 
 
 34 
 
398 MEMOIR OF 
 
 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 knowledge 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 Vvould 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 debil- 
 itated 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 fre- 
 quent 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 mo- 
 derate 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 
 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 
 
EDWARD PAYSON. 399 
 
 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." 
 
400 
 
 ''BEHOLD THY MOTHER!" 
 
 The scene at 'the death-bed of Dr. Payson, described on page 370, has been 
 happily expanded in the following beautiful lines, from the chaste zuid fruitful 
 pen of Mrs. Sigourney. The eldest son, in this case, is not the eldest child j 
 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 ! agaiti 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 ; 
 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 ! 
 Lifi; 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 ^aded earth up to the full-orb'd day, 
 Will be thy witness in the court of heaven 
 How thou dost bear liis 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 clou i. 
 
 "^ Ufvclatioii, xix. 17. 
 
" .be lost dte ^^P^aU ^^-- 
 
 JiV,. 
 
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 13, 
 
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 * 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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