LAST VISIT TO MY NATIVE PLACE—WESTERN TOUR.
Many years had passed away since I had seen the home of my childhood, and
my advanced age admonish me that I must do so soon or never. On February
15, 1856, I left my home on Staten Island and went to Pemberton, N. J.
For four years Pemberton was my residence. I was glad to see my old
friends, and preached for them twice. Thence I went to Mount Holly, a
place of rare beauty. Here lived my old friend, Judge Monroe, father of
Rev. Samuel Y. Monroe, D.D.
Reaching Camden, I found it greatly changed since I first saw it. Then
there was only a ferry-house, now a large city with three flourishing
Methodist Churches. A few years ago I preached the half century sermon of
the introduction of Methodism in Camden. By request it was published.
I hastened on to Lancaster, where I was heartily welcomed by John Boehm’s
widow. He was my nephew, and yet we were about the same age, were
converted at the same time, and were life-time friends. He did much for
Methodism in Lancaster and Lancaster County. I spent several weeks in the
vicinity visiting old friends and preaching the Gospel. There was quite
a contrast to the state of things in 1805, when I preached there on a
butcher’s block in the market.
To my great joy I found Philip Benedict and his wife living. It was in
their house I formed the first class in 1807. We talked over the early
struggles and triumphs of Methodism in Lancaster. He was eighty-four
years old, his wife about the same age. The Church in Lancaster is
greatly indebted to this old patriarch and his excellent wife.
I went to Little Britain, twenty-two miles from Lancaster, celebrated as
the birthplace of Robert Fulton. The old homestead where he was born was
still standing. What gave it additional interest to me was, that there,
in 1814, I formed the first Methodist class in the town. We have now a
fine society and a beautiful church edifice.
I went to Columbia, and was the guest of Abraham Brunner, son of Owen.
Here I met Alfred Cookman, who had married into the family, and his
children are the fifth generation that I have preached to in this family.
I went to the old Boehm’s Chapel and the old house where I was born. My
eye lighted upon the place in the gallery where in 1798 I gave my heart
to God. Well did I exclaim,
“O happy day, that fixed my choice
On thee, my Saviour and my God,” etc.
What sermons had I heard in that chapel! The venerable forms of Asbury,
Whatcoat, M’Kendree, and others I had heard preach came up before me. It
was Easter Sabbath, and I preached on the resurrection of Jesus. It was
forty-four years that day since my father died. From the window I could
see his grave and those of my mother and the other loved ones. My mind
went forward to the time when the sleepers should awake at the sound of
the trump and rise to life immortal.
My feelings well nigh overcame me. The friends of my youth were gone.
There were none of my name remaining in that neighborhood. Generations
had passed away, new ones had risen that knew me not. I wandered
among the tombs in the old burying ground, then bade adieu to the old
grave-yard, to the old chapel, to the old homestead, hallowed by so many
pleasing recollections, exclaiming,
“Farewell to the home of my birth,
To the scenes which I cannot but love,
To the nearest and dearest on earth,
Till we meet in the mansions above.”
On my return I visited the Philadelphia Conference, then sitting in
Trinity Church, Philadelphia. I had not attended it for twenty years,
and had long desired to see it once more. Bishop Waugh presided, and at
his request I made an address. I contrasted the past with the present.
I told them not one remained who had belonged to the conference when I
joined it. I always loved the Philadelphia Conference: within its bounds
I was born, converted, licensed to preach, and ordained; with them I
had spent my youth and the prime of my manhood; here I had toiled the
hardest and had the greatest success; here were the scenes of my trials
and triumphs, and within its bounds I was married and my children born. I
never belonged to any other, the New Jersey and Newark Conferences being
portions of the Philadelphia Conference when I joined it. I bade farewell
to the Philadelphia brethren and returned to my island home after an
absence of two months.
On my return home I attended the New Jersey Conference in Broad-street
Chapel, Newark. How strangely this magnificent edifice contrasted with
Boehm’s Chapel! and what a change in Newark since I visited it with
Bishop Asbury in 1809, when we had no house of worship there, and Richard
Leaycraft, who had moved from New York, was the only one to entertain the
itinerants!
Having relatives in Ohio whom I had not seen for nearly half a century, I
concluded, though over fourscore, to visit them. In January, 1859, I went
to Baltimore, where I had not been for forty-two years. We received a
hearty welcome from Dr. Roberts, the distinguished Methodist antiquarian
and father of the Methodist Historical Society. Multitudes are the relics
he has preserved, which will enrich the history of our Church in future
years.
Most of my old friends in Baltimore were dead; only a few recognized
me. I went to Mount Olivet Cemetery, where sleep the remains of Bishops
Asbury, George, Emory, and Waugh. Standing by the grave of the first the
image of the patriarch came up before me, and I vainly attempted to keep
back the tears that rolled down my cheeks. The other bishops also I had
known intimately. Two of them were much younger than myself, and I was
present when they were received into the conference.
My next visit was to “Pilgrim’s Rest,” to see my old friend and brother,
the Rev. Henry Smith. We had known each other half a century. He was one
of the purest and best men that I ever knew. I had a charming visit with
him, and when reviewing the past we lived over a great many years in a
few hours. He was over ninety, and had been in the ministry sixty-five
years. We prayed and wept together, and then we parted to meet in the
“Pilgrim’s Rest” on the other side of Jordan. He has since entered there.
Leaving Baltimore for Ohio, we crossed the Potomac at Harper’s Ferry
and then went over the Alleghanies. Rushing over in the cars was very
different from the slow manner Bishop Asbury and I crawled over them
forty-seven years before. I could not help wondering what the bishop
would think if he could return and go over them as we do now, the
contrast is so great in ease, comfort, and saving of time. Towns,
cities, and states have been born since that time we went to Zanesville.
Cincinnati was so changed that I could scarcely recognize in the Queen
City of the West the little village I had visited nearly fifty years
before; but when I beheld the Licking River everything came to my mind,
and I began to feel quite at home. When with Bishop Asbury we put up with
Brother Lines, an excellent local preacher. I was pleased to see two of
his daughters, Mrs. Widow Smith and the wife of Doctor Phillips. Edward
Sargent, son of my old friend, Rev. Thomas F. Sargent, M.D., married a
daughter of Widow Smith. In the society of these friends I took great
delight.
Not only had the city grown immensely, but Methodism also. At the time of
my former visit there was only one Methodist church edifice, “The Stone
Chapel;” that had given way to a noble structure, “Wesley Chapel,” and
had become also the mother of a large and healthy family of children,
most of them named after bishops or other prominent ministers, as Asbury
Chapel, M’Kendree, Morris, Raper, Christie, Finlay, etc. Then the large
Book Concern with its _Western Christian Advocate_, _Ladies’ Repository_,
and other widely circulated publications. But what filled me with the
greatest delight, and made my old soul rejoice with exceeding joy, was to
behold what God had done for the Germans. I found four German Methodist
Churches in Cincinnati, with several hundred members; also a German
newspaper, the _Christian Apologist_, one of the most able papers I have
ever read, and edited by that great and good man, Dr. Nast, and a long
list of books and tracts in the German language. What a change since
1807, when I had the Methodist Discipline translated into German, and
1808, when I preached the first Methodist sermon in German in Cincinnati,
and when Bishop Asbury and I had two tracts printed in the German
language, that we scattered over the mountains and valleys as we rode
round his large diocese!
A German love-feast was held in order that I might hear in my mother
tongue the wonderful work that God had wrought. Several hundred
were present, including members from all the German churches. Their
testimonies were thrilling, and their singing exquisite. They sung as Mr.
Wesley said, “lustily.” At the conclusion of a glorious love-feast, Dr.
Nast said, “We will sing Martin Luther’s Hymn, tune Old Hundred,” and
then they sung as I never heard it before that good old doxology, “Praise
God, from whom all blessings flow,” etc.
I had a delightful interview with Judge M’Lean, one of our noblest men, a
spiritual son of John Collins. He remembered hearing me preach in Lebanon
in 1810. It was with deep regret that I afterward heard of his death. He
left a pure record both as a man and a statesman.
I went to Dayton, which was a small place when I was there before, but
has now thirty thousand inhabitants. The “United Brethren in Christ” have
a publishing house here. When I entered their building and looked upon
the wall I saw a portrait of my father. I had not seen it in fifty years,
nor did I know it had been preserved, or that there was an image of him
in existence. There he was with his German visage, his gray locks and
venerable beard. It was a very good likeness, painted by a German artist
for my nephew, Martin Boehm, who carried it West when he removed to Ohio.
At his death it was presented to “The United Brethren in Christ,” who
were glad to get such a relic to adorn the walls of their publishing
house. Here also I saw an excellent likeness of Father Otterbein.
I visited my relative, Samuel Binkley, who formerly lived near my
father’s. Here a cane was presented to me that I highly prize on account
of its historic associations, for it originally belonged to Father
Otterbein, who gave it to Bishop Asbury; the bishop gave it to Samuel
Binkley, and he presented it to my daughter.
After my return home I again visited the West, and spent a year in
Cincinnati. I preached before the conference in Xenia, and was present
at the marriage of General Grant’s sister in Covington, Kentucky, to a
German preacher stationed in Cincinnati.
In May, 1800, I was present at the General Conference in Baltimore;
in May, 1864, I attended the General Conference in Union Church,
Philadelphia. With perhaps two exceptions, Drs. C. Elliott and G. Peck,
all the delegates to the latter body were born during the intervening
period; and the senior bishop, Thomas A. Morris, was, in 1800, a
prattling boy of five years. I rejoiced that God had raised up so many
strong men to be pillars in the Church. Some were from the further West,
California, Oregon, and regions which in my early days were almost a
_terra incognita_, and were uninhabited except by wandering tribes of
Indians. The bishops and members seemed to regard me as an old Methodist
patriarch, and honored me with a seat on the platform.
The nation was then struggling for life, having to contend both with
open enemies and secret foes. But a more loyal body than the men
who represented the Church in that conference never assembled. What
interested me most, however, was the fraternal interchange of delegates
between our General Conference and that of the African Methodist
Episcopal Church, which was sitting in Philadelphia at the same time.
The colored delegates were received by our conference on May 13, and
delivered addresses that would have done honor to men of any land. The
utmost enthusiasm prevailed, and the Union Church rang with shouts
of applause. At the conclusion of one of the most thrilling scenes
ever witnessed I was honored with delivering an address, of which the
following report appeared in the _Daily Advocate_ of May 14:
“Mr. President, I thought it was but proper that I should express some of
my feelings and recollections as appropriate to this occasion. It fell
to my lot to have charge of this district in 1813 and 1814. It was then
called the Schuylkill District, and embraced the whole region between
the Delaware and the Susquehanna Rivers, including Wilmington, and north
by the mountains. During that period Robert R. Roberts, afterward Bishop
Roberts, was stationed at St. George’s, and John Emory, afterward Bishop
Emory, at this church. During these two years, in either 1813 or 1814,
he would not be positive which, the separation of the colored brethren
took place. There was some friction between the founder of the present
African Methodist Episcopal Church and us, and they drew off. But it was
prudently managed, and they passed quietly off. We feared then that it
was an unfortunate change; but I confess to you that my heart has been
touched. I have been very much affected in hearing our colored brethren
testify here, and state their influence and progress. I admire the
providence of God in this instance. We then considered it an unfortunate
case; but God has overruled it, and I hope he will continue to overrule
it and superintend it, and that it will react and spread its evangelizing
and saving influence south and south-west, and all over the world. God
grant that this may be the case. [Numerous responses of Amen.] I thought
it would be appropriate for me to express my feelings thus, and I rejoice
and give glory to God for his goodness and his power.”
“The venerable patriarch sat down with swimming eyes, while many in
the audience wept with sympathy and joy. It is certainly a singular
coincidence that the man who was the Church officer charged with the
administration of the Discipline upon this district when the founders
of the African Methodist Episcopal Church withdrew from our connection,
previous to organizing their own, should, after a period of at least
fifty years, be present to witness the first fraternal reception of their
official representatives by the General Conference of the Methodist
Episcopal Church, and that assembled in the Union Church, Philadelphia,
the very scene of the events of half a century ago.”
I cannot refrain from referring to the amazing growth of our Church since
the period when I joined it. We had then in America two hundred and
sixty-six traveling preachers, and sixty-five thousand nine hundred and
eighty members. Church edifices were scarce, and parsonages comparatively
unknown. We had no colleges or seminaries; no Biblical Institutes,
no periodicals, and were almost without a literature; indeed wholly
so, except a Hymn Book, Discipline, and a few tracts and other small
publications. Now we have nearly seven thousand traveling preachers, and
more than nine hundred thousand church members, (besides those in the
South,) with over ten thousand church edifices, and nearly three thousand
parsonages. Our numerous colleges and other institutions of learning, and
the extended operations of our Book Concerns in the East and the West,
bear witness to the success with which we have labored in the cause of
education and religious literature.
In some matters I cannot but think that, as a Church, we have
retrograded. The people and preachers in that day were patterns of
plainness; we conform more to the world, and have lost much of the spirit
of self-denial they possessed. Our fathers paid great attention to Church
discipline, and their preaching was more direct; they aimed at the heart,
and looked for more immediate results than we of the present day.
But if there are some things to lament, there is much that calls for
gratitude. If we remain true to Methodism, “walking by the same rule and
minding the same things” our fathers did, then our future will be grand
and glorious as the past, and the result such as to meet the expectations
of the most ardent among us.
And now, having seen what great things God has done for us as a Church,
and the salvation which he has wrought out for us as a nation in the
overthrow of the great rebellion, I feel like saying with Simeon of old,
“Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.” On this side the
river I patiently wait till the Master shall bid me pass over Jordan and
rejoin the sainted Asbury and other of my fellow-laborers and companions
in tribulation who have preceded me to the climes of bliss.
“My old companions in distress
I haste again to see,
And eager long for my release
And full felicity:
Even now by faith I join my hands
With those that went before,
And greet the blood-besprinkled bands
On the eternal shore.”
THE END