DEATH OF JESSE LEE—HIS CHARACTER.
During the summer of 1816 I held several camp-meetings that were greatly
honored of God. The fourth was in Hillsborough, Maryland. It commenced
the 22d of August. Jesse Lee preached the second sermon from 1 Peter ii,
5, on the lively stones and the spiritual house. I wrote: “He preached
with life and power, and many of the people were much refreshed and built
up in the faith of the Gospel.” Some of his illustrations were very
quaint. He said, “If you cannot be a stone in the building you may be
a nail to hold on a shingle.” He preached again on “Grow in grace.” In
announcing his subject he said, “In the last verse of the last chapter
of the last Epistle of Peter you may find my text, and this may be my
last sermon.” And so it proved. That voice which had rung through so many
groves, offering salvation to the lost, was then heard for the last time.
He who introduced camp-meetings into the East fell at one of them sword
in hand. He had been taken sick the day before, and he suffered much
while delivering this his last message. After preaching he was removed
to the house of Brother Henry D. Sellers, brother-in-law of Bishop
Emory.[47] Brother Sellers and his wife were at this time summoned to
Baltimore to see a son who was very sick. They reluctantly left home when
Brother Lee was so ill, but yielded to the prior claims of a dying son.
They left word to have everything possible done for the comfort of the
sick man. While absent they buried their son, and when they returned home
found Jesse Lee in his grave.
The camp-meeting was one of great power and interest. God honored his
word, and a great number believed and turned to the Lord. On Tuesday we
parted till we pitch our tents in the groves of Paradise. Then I went to
attend to our beloved Brother Lee.
Before he left Annapolis Mr. Lee knocked off a little skin from his leg.
He thought nothing of it at the time, but it became inflamed, and he had
quite a fever. He grew worse and worse till mortification took place,
and death came to his relief. On Tuesday, at 10 o’clock, while we were
praying with him, the room was filled with glory. He was graciously
visited by the Lord, and broke out in ecstacies, “Glory, Glory, Jesus
reigns! heaven is just before me!”
The next day he was “filled with the Spirit,” so that he shouted the
praises of God. He had said but little during the early part of his
sickness; but now heaven was opened and glory revealed. All present were
deeply affected, and felt it a hallowed place. He suffered intensely, but
grace triumphed over pain of body.
On Wednesday strong symptoms of dissolution appeared, and the doctor was
frank and told him he might not live twelve hours. This did not at all
alarm him. He shouted aloud the praises of God, and deliberately set his
house in order. He wished me to write to his brother Ned, and tell him he
“died happy.” He also said, “Give my respects to Bishop M’Kendree; tell
him that I die in love with all the preachers, and that he lives in my
heart.” Then he bade all present farewell and requested us to pray. We
did so. It was a solemn hour and place. On Thursday he lost the power of
speech, but retained his reason and gave signs that all was well. In the
evening, at half past seven, the great and good man fell asleep.
I watched over him nearly two weeks; he would not allow me to leave him.
I went down stairs to shave one day, and he was very uneasy, and sent two
or three messengers for me before I could finish. He had an idea that no
other person could do as well for him, therefore he constantly looked for
me. I hardly took off my clothes day or night for nearly two weeks, he
needed such constant attention. The family being absent, the great care
fell upon me. He said to me, “Brother Boehm, when I die I wish you to
close my eyes.” I did so. I placed the muffler about his face and laid
him out, and put his shroud upon him. I helped place him in his coffin,
then committed his remains to the grave, and performed the funeral
service. We buried him in the family burying-ground of Father Henry Downs.
Two days after, while I was absent, some brethren came from Baltimore and
disinterred the remains and removed them to that city, and laid him to
rest in the old Methodist burying-ground. He was taken sick the 24th of
August, and died the 12th of September, 1816.
I complied with his dying request, sending his final messages to those he
loved. I wrote to his brother Edward, (father of Rev. Leroy M. Lee,) who
lived at Petersburgh, and gave him the particulars of Jesse’s illness and
death. I also wrote to Bishop M’Kendree, giving him the message of the
dying minister as well as the particulars of his last sickness and death.
This account was given in Jesse Lee’s obituary in the Minutes, with my
name connected with it. In Dr. Bangs’s History of Methodism, and Leroy
M. Lee’s life of his uncle, my name is omitted. They could have had no
correct description of his last days and hours unless I had furnished it.
I must conclude this chapter by noticing his character. My own opinion
is that injustice has been done to the name and fame of Jesse Lee. I was
acquainted with him for many years. He was at my father’s in 1799. I saw
him at the General Conference of 1800, 1808, and 1812; also at the Annual
Conferences and at camp-meetings. Mr. Lee was one of the most efficient
and useful men we ever had. Like Paul, he was “in labors more abundant.”
He was shrewd, witty, and ready at repartee. There are those who think
he was nothing but a bundle of fun; that this was the element in which
he moved; and that he considered a rich joke a means of grace. Such have
altogether mistaken his character. Mr. Lee had a rich vein of spiritual
wit, he had a keen sense of the ludicrous, he knew how to answer a fool
according to his folly; but he made his wit subservient to the cause
of truth and to silence cavilers. He had “higher excellences than wit,
holier instincts than mirth.” He made great sacrifices, and devoted his
life to the promotion of the cause of truth.
Jesse Lee was an excellent preacher. I must have heard him thirty times.
He exhibited great wisdom in the selection of his texts. In General and
Annual Conferences he was a prominent man. He was an able debater, and
those who encountered him found they were grappling with a giant. At the
General Conference of 1800 he came near being elected bishop. He was
worthy of the episcopal office, and doubtless would have filled it with
honor to himself and benefit to the Church. Some one told him he would
have been elected if he had been sufficiently grave. Said he, “Would it
not have been premature to assume the gravity of the office previous to
my election?”
As the apostle of Methodism in the East he can never be forgotten.
He was the pioneer of a noble army of Methodist preachers who have
revolutionized New England and New England theology. All over its hills
and valleys he has written his name in characters that will be read by
succeeding generations until the end of time. As the first historian
of American Methodism he will ever be remembered. His work is valuable
as a repository of facts to which his successors have all been largely
indebted. He achieved many triumphs, but the greatest of all was his
victory over “the last enemy.”
“Servant of God, well done!
Thy glorious warfare’s past;
The battle’s fought, the race is won,
And thou art crowned at last.”