MISSIONARIES, 1807.
Bishop Asbury preached the funeral sermon of Bishop Whatcoat April 29,
1807, and the same evening in Dover I preached my farewell sermon. My
heart was deeply affected on parting with my dear brethren and friends,
with whom I have had so many gracious seasons. Can it be wondered at that
I wrote, “I hope to meet them in a better country?” Most of them are
already there, and I am on my way.
The session of the Philadelphia Conference was a harmonious one. It was
held in Philadelphia, commencing on April 2. On Sunday morning Bishop
Asbury preached from Rev. ii, 10, “Be thou faithful unto death, and I
will give thee a crown of life.” In the afternoon I went with William
Colbert to the debtor’s prison, where he preached. Many of the prisoners
appeared very serious. In those days we took great pains to preach
in poor-houses, jails, penitentiaries, and state-prisons. We visited
prisoners, and particularly those who were under sentence of death. The
Wesleys did the same in the infancy of Methodism. My appointment was
strange, as it appears in the Minutes: “Pennsylvania, William Hunter,
Henry Boehm.” We had not, however, the whole “Keystone State” as our
field of labor, but only that part which lies between the Delaware and
Susquehanna Rivers. We were to break up new ground, “stretch ourselves
beyond ourselves.” This was what Bishop Asbury was ever trying to do
himself, and wished others to imitate him. I was appointed to that field
because I understood the German language. My German sword had become
a little rusty, for I had had but little occasion to use it on Dover
Circuit; but I had now to take it out of its scabbard and polish it, and
try its temper.
Thomas Burch and I put up with Mr. Rolph, who was the keeper of the
debtor’s prison. People were in those days imprisoned for debt, and as
there were many in debt, so there were many prisoners. ROBERT MORRIS,
a signer of the Declaration of Independence, the intimate friend of
Washington, one of the framers of the Federal Constitution, and the great
financier of the Revolution, whose credit for a time was better than his
country’s, lost all his property and became bankrupt, and was confined
in this very prison for debt for a long time, to the shame of the city
of brotherly love and to the shame of his country. But the year before I
was there death came to his relief, on May 6, 1806. He died in poverty
at the age of seventy-three. This law of imprisonment for debt is now
abolished, thanks to humanity. The keeper of this prison and his wife
were awakened, and shortly after converted. It was a very fine family,
and in after years I used to be entertained by them.
In the conference our brethren were filled with much of the divine
presence. The work of God went on in the congregations, and many were
converted. Fifteen were admitted on trial at this conference, among them
Peter P. Sandford, long known as one of the strong men of the New York
Conference.
Solomon Sharp was my presiding elder. Our first quarterly meeting was
held in a grove near Cornwall Furnace. Brother Sharp preached on 1 Peter
iv, 7, “But the end of all things is at hand,” etc., a sermon full of
power; and again on Sunday from Eccles. ix, 11. On Monday the sacrament
was administered, and Solomon Sharp preached a very profitable sermon
from Gal. v, 17, “Ye did run well; who did hinder you?” etc. There were
a few converted, and both ministry and the laity got a wonderful baptism
of love at our first quarterly meeting in the grove. We had about twenty
tents and wagons, in which the people lodged.
The last of May a camp-meeting was held in the neighborhood of what
is called “the Forrest Chapel.” This was an old chapel in the forest,
built by Mr. Demer, whom I have already noticed. Brothers Sharp, Hunter,
Ireland, and others preached, and also myself. Solomon Sharp preached
four very impressive sermons. He was a mighty man in the tented grove,
and had great power over the masses.
One of his sermons was on the worth of the soul, and the danger of its
loss. Sinners trembled, and who can wonder? Another was the contrast
between the Law and the Gospel, John i, 17; another on the danger of
looking back after having put his hand to the Gospel plow. Upward
of twenty were converted, many shouted for joy, and over ten were
sanctified. Meetings of this kind were new in this part of the country,
and crowds came to attend them.
An incident occurred here worthy of note. Some of the sinners of a
baser sort were disposed to interrupt the service. When the disturbance
threatened to be serious, the Hon. George Clymer, a signer of the
Declaration of Independence, then a lawyer, residing in Reading, arose in
the congregation and addressed the assembly. He spoke of the struggles of
the Revolution, of what our liberties cost, and the right our glorious
Constitution gives to all to worship under their own vine and fig-tree.
Then he said, “In vain have patriots bled and martyrs died to procure
freedom if we cannot worship the God of our fathers according to our own
conscience.” His address had a most happy effect in restoring order. It
was whispered round, “Who is that?” “The Hon. George Clymer,” was the
answer. It was the only time I ever saw him or heard him. His conduct
was so noble, for then we were a “sect everywhere spoken against,” and no
great honor could be obtained by defending us.
Mr. Clymer was a tall, fine-looking man, with a dark, expressive eye,
a grave countenance, and hair of a kind of iron gray. He was a great
financier, associated with Robert Morris in establishing a bank for the
relief of his country. He was a member of Congress, and president of
the Philadelphia Bank and of the Academy of Fine Arts. He was one of
the great men of Pennsylvania, and of the nation, and for such a man to
defend the Methodists under circumstances that I have described certainly
was a noble act. The name of George Clymer has in my mind ever been
associated with the Forrest camp-meeting. Six years after he died, aged
seventy-three years, just as old as his friend and compatriot Robert
Morris was when he bid adieu to earth.
CAMP-MEETING AT WYE.
In July Bishop Asbury and Daniel Hitt made us a brief visit, as they were
on their tour West.
On Sunday, July 26, the bishop preached, under the shade of some locust
trees, near Columbia, on the east bank of the Susquehanna, from 2 Cor. v,
14, on the death of Jesus, and why he died for all. Daniel Hitt preached
from 2 Cor. vi, 17, 18, on coming out from the world, etc. The next day
I accompanied Bishop Asbury to Little York, and then bade him adieu,
little thinking that the next year I would be his traveling companion.
On Wednesday I went with Brother Sharp and several friends to Wye
camp-meeting, Queen Anne County, Maryland. On Friday night the campaign
was opened by Solomon Sharp, from Mal. iii, 16-18, “Then they that feared
the Lord spake one to another,” etc., an admirable introduction. I
preached on Jer. vi, 16, and John Chalmers on Matt. vi, 10, “Thy kingdom
come.” It did come, not in word only, but in power. The work of revival
went on all night. Many were converted, and the grove echoed with loud
halleluiahs.
Sunday was a great day. Great crowds, great singing, great preaching, and
great power under the word. Solomon Sharp preached in the morning from
Jer. ix, 1, “O that my head were waters,” etc.; Brother Ridgeway in the
afternoon, on 1 Cor. xv, 34, “Awake to righteousness, and sin not,” etc.,
a very awakening sermon; and William B. Lacy in the evening, on Luke xiv,
17. The slain of the Lord were many.
On Monday there was a novel scene. In the morning, John Chalmers preached
with great effect. He was followed by his son, John Chalmers, Jr., who
preached from Dan. vii, 18, “But the saints of the Most High shall take
the kingdom, and possess the kingdom forever, even for ever and ever,”
a sermon full of encouragement. The preacher was a noble son of a noble
father. His youth then attracted great attention. He was called “little
Jackey Chalmers.” Many souls found the Lord this day.
On Tuesday morning Leonard Castle, of Baltimore, preached from 2 Cor.
iv, 5, “For we preach not ourselves,” etc., a sermon of uncommon beauty,
eloquence, and power. Solomon Sharp followed, on Luke xxii, 26. Great
unction attended the word; convictions and conversions were greatly
multiplied. A brother was appointed to preach in the evening; but the
work broke out so under the prayer offered at the stand, and such were
the cries of distress, the shouts of triumph, that the preaching had to
be dispensed with. But the work went on gloriously.
On Wednesday Leonard Castle preached again from Ezek. xxxiii, 5. This was
a sermon full of alarm. Sinai’s thunder could be heard, its lightnings
seen. The people were awe-struck, and listened as if they were hearing
an angel from heaven. I wrote: “Praise the Lord that mine eyes have ever
been permitted to witness such displays of the power of God as I have
seen this day.” The work went on all night.
On Thursday morning a love-feast was held. The testimonies were clear.
God spread his banner over us, and it was love. At three o’clock Brother
Leonard Castle preached from I Tim. iv, 8, on the profitableness of
godliness for two lives and two worlds. He was surpassingly eloquent, and
the Lord worked powerfully.
On Friday Solomon Sharp and E. Larkins preached. The work went on with
such power that it was concluded, to the joy of many, to continue the
meeting over another Sabbath.
On Saturday Leonard Castle, Henry Boehm, and Henry White preached. It was
a great day of the converting and sanctifying power of God. The work went
on during the night.
Sunday was a day of wonders. Eight thousand people were on the ground.
Brothers Sharp, Castle, and Alward White preached. Leonard Castle’s text
was: “Except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the
scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of
heaven.” The sermon was one of the most eloquent and impressive I have
ever heard. The multitude on the ground looked astonished; it was visible
in their countenances. If we would know the number of conversions and
sanctifications we must wait till we are permitted to search the records
of heaven. But they were many.
On Monday morning we separated with tears and regrets. I wrote: “This was
the greatest meeting I have ever attended. Almost every sinner on the
ground was awed to reverence.”
Over twenty sermons were preached by men who knew how to wield the sword
of the Spirit. Solomon Sharp preached five sermons of rare power and
excellence. The youthful and captivating Leonard Castle preached five
times on the grandest themes that ever engaged the powers of a minister
or the attention of a congregation. His sermons on that camp ground
for years were subjects of profound admiration.[13] The old hero, John
Chalmers, twice held forth; and Jackey, a counterpart of himself, once.
We tried to break into new ground. About ten miles from Wilmington was
Sharpless’s rolling mill. We got a foothold, and formed a society, and a
church was afterward built in the neighborhood. When we first preached
there some tried to mob us. They gathered around the door and tried to
rush in and seize us. I was preaching, and Brother Hunter was with me.
There was a strong man who stood at the door with a stone in his hand
and took sides with us, and threatened to knock down the first man who
touched us. So he frightened the rowdies, and we preached on unmolested.
He was a large Irishman, and one reason he interested himself so much on
our behalf was that Brother Hunter was an Irishman, and he was determined
that his countryman should not be abused.
When on this circuit several years after I became acquainted with Abram
Sharpless, the owner of the works. He was an orthodox Quaker, a man of
wealth and great business talent. We put up with his foreman, and Mr.
Sharpless furnished plenty of food for our horses. Mr. Sharpless when
eighty years of age spoke to me of the great change that had taken place
among his workmen. Of their sobriety and industry since the Gospel had
been introduced among them he said that previous to the preaching there
on seventh day his hands would be dissipated, and no better on first
day. On second day he would have to send after them to get them to work,
and then they were not worth much. He said it was very different now.
All he had to do was to tell his people what he wanted done, and how,
and it was accomplished. I then asked him if we might not conclude that
the influence of the Gospel had produced this great change. He heartily
assented. This was acknowledging a great deal for an old Quaker.
In 1790 my old schoolmaster left Lancaster, and I did not know where he
had gone. One Sabbath in July this year, while preaching in German in
a barn in Likens’s Valley, I saw an intelligent-looking man viewing me
intently through his spectacles. I wondered who it was, and where I had
seen him. Behold, it was my old schoolmaster, that I had not seen since
I was his pupil eighteen years before. We greeted each other with tears,
and talked of bygone days and scenes. He was a Lutheran, and used to read
the burial service at funerals when the minister was absent. He became a
minister, and was pastor of a church west of the Susquehanna. I never saw
him afterward, but I never can forget Henry Rossman, my old schoolmaster,
to whom I am so deeply indebted, especially for my knowledge of the
German language.
It was not till 1807 we got a permanent foothold in Lancaster. It was
very hard soil for Methodism. Twice we made a beginning, but failed, and
for several years the place was abandoned. We had no preaching there,
only an occasional sermon.
The introduction of Methodism into Lancaster was providential. The
translation of the Methodist Discipline into German had something to do
with it. In 1807 I went to Lancaster to read the proof-sheets of this
translation at the printer’s. After I had read them, and was about to
return home, it commenced raining hard, and I put up at a public house
where I had often stopped. The Lutherans were there in great numbers
to draw a lottery, the proceeds of which were to finish a church
steeple.[14] A crowd had come together to see who was fortunate enough
to obtain a prize. Feeling no interest in the result of the drawing,
and annoyed by the noise and confusion of the people, I left the public
house and took a walk through Lancaster to while away the time. While
going along the street I met with a woman who had been a member of the
Methodist Church in Germantown. She told me there was a man by the name
of Philip Benedict in Lancaster who had been awakened at a camp-meeting,
and he and his wife were seeking the Lord, and she advised me to call and
see them, telling me where they lived. I went to their house, pointed
them to Jesus, and prayed with them. As I was about leaving they said,
“O that we could have Methodist preaching in Lancaster!” I told them
they could have it. So I left an appointment to preach at his house. It
became a permanent preaching place. In a little while I formed a class of
six members: Philip Benedict and his wife, and four others. This was the
nucleus of the society which remained permanent. I am thankful that I had
the honor of planting the tree of Methodism in that city. Behold how many
links there are in this singular chain; how many small causes to bring
about such large results!