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[Illustration:
View of the Parsonage in Cranbury, New-Jersey, July, 1833.
Occupying the ground where Brainerd preached to the Indians, 1746.
]
THE
LIFE
OF
REV. DAVID BRAINERD,
CHIEFLY EXTRACTED FROM HIS DIARY.
------------------------------------
BY PRESIDENT EDWARDS.
------------------------------------
SOMEWHAT ABRIDGED.
EMBRACING,
IN THE CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER
BRAINERD’S PUBLIC JOURNAL
OF THE
MOST SUCCESSFUL YEAR
OF HIS
MISSIONARY LABORS.
PUBLISHED BY THE
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY,
150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK.
It is a striking characteristic of the life of BRAINERD, from the time
of his entering on the study of Theology till his death, that he _daily_
“walked with God,” or mourned the absence of the light of his
countenance. President Edwards has endeavored to exhibit the state of
his mind _each day_, as described in his diary. In this edition, many
passages thus inserted by Edwards, especially such as much resembled
those preceding or following, have been omitted.
CONTENTS
Page.
President Edwards’ Preface 5
CHAP I.—From his birth to the time when he began to study for the 9
ministry—containing his own narrative of his conversion, his
connection with Yale College and the grounds of his expulsion
CHAP. II.—From about the time when he began the study of 32
theology, till he was licensed to preach
CHAP. III.—From his being licensed to preach, till he was 45
commissioned as a missionary
CHAP. IV.—From his appointment as a missionary, to his commencing 52
his mission among the Indians at Kaunaumeek, in New-York
CHAP. V.—His labors for nearly a year at Kaunaumeek—temporal 61
deprivations and sufferings—establishes a school—confession
offered to the Faculty of Yale College—days of fasting—methods
of instructing the Indians—visit to New-Jersey and
Connecticut—commencement of labor among the Indians at the
Forks of Delaware—ordination
CHAP. VI.—Labors for the Indians at and near the Forks of 95
Delaware—idolatrous feast and dance—journey through the
wilderness to Opeholhaupung, on the Susquehanna—erects a
cottage at the Forks of Delaware—some evidences of a work of
the Spirit among the Indians—journey to New-England, to obtain
funds to support a colleague—visit to the Indians on the
Susquehanna—journey to Crossweeksung, in New-Jersey
CHAP. VII.—Being Part I. of his public Journal of “the Rise and 132
Progress of a remarkable Work of Grace among the Indians in
New-Jersey and Pennsylvania; kept by order of the Society in
Scotland for propagating Christian Knowledge”—commencement of
his labors at Crossweeksung—renewal of labor at the Forks of
Delaware—conversion of his interpreter—return to
Crossweeksung—outpouring of the Spirit—visit to the Forks of
Delaware and the Susquehanna—a powaw—a conjurer—renewal of
labor at Crossweeksung—remarks on the work of divine grace
CHAP. VIII.—Being Part II. of his public Journal of “the 194
Continuance and Progress of a Remarkable Work of Grace among
the Indians in New-Jersey and Pennsylvania; kept by order of
the Society in Scotland for propagating Christian
Knowledge”—renewal of labor at Crossweeksung—outpouring of the
Spirit—remarkable case—signal displays of divine power—a
convert—a number of Christian Indians accompany him to the
Forks of Delaware—striking conversion at Crossweeksung—day of
fasting—Lord’s supper—conversion of a conjurer—general remarks
on the preceding narrative
CHAP. IX.—From the close of his public Journal, June 19, 1746, to 278
his death, October 9, 1747—continuance of labor at
Crossweeksung and Cranberry—journey with six Christian Indians
to the Susquehanna, and labors there—return to
Crossweeksung—compelled by prostration of health to leave the
Indians—confinement by sickness at Elizabethtown—farewell visit
to the Indians—his brother John succeeds him as a
missionary—arrival among his friends in Connecticut—visit to
President Edwards, in Northampton—journey to Boston, where he
is brought near to death—usefulness in Boston—return to
Northampton—triumphs of grace in his last sickness—death
CHAP. X.—Reflections on the preceding memoir 345
FROM
PRESIDENT EDWARDS’ PREFACE.
There is one thing, easily discernible in the life of BRAINERD, which by
many may be considered an objection to the extraordinary evidences of
his religion and devotion, viz. that he was, _by his constitution and
natural temper, so prone to melancholy and dejection of Spirit_. There
are some who think that all religion is a melancholy thing; and that
what is called Christian experience is little else beside melancholy,
disturbing the brain, and exciting enthusiastic imaginations. But that
Brainerd’s temper or constitution inclined him to despondency, is no
just ground for supposing that his extraordinary _devotion_ was only the
fruit of a warm imagination. Notwithstanding this inclination to
despondency, he was evidently one of those who usually are the farthest
from a teeming imagination; being of a penetrating genius, of clear
thought, of close reasoning, and a very exact judgment; as was apparent
to all who knew him. As he had a great insight into human nature, and
was very discerning and judicious in general; so he excelled in his
judgment and knowledge in divinity, but especially in experimental
religion. He most accurately distinguished between real, solid piety,
and enthusiasm; between those affections that are rational and
scriptural, having their foundation in light and judgment, and those
that are founded in whimsical conceits, strong impressions on the
imagination, and vehement emotions of the animal spirits. He was
exceedingly sensible of men’s exposure to these things; how extensively
they had prevailed, and what multitudes had been deceived by them; of
their pernicious consequences, and the fearful mischief they had done in
the Christian world. He had no confidence in such a religion, and was
abundant in bearing testimony against it, living and dying; and was
quick to discern when any thing of that nature arose, though in its
first buddings, and appearing under the most fair and plausible
disguises. He had a talent, which I scarcely ever knew equalled, for
describing the various workings of this _imaginary enthusiastic_
religion, evincing its falseness and vanity, and demonstrating the great
difference between this and true _spiritual_ devotion.
His judiciousness did not only appear in distinguishing among the
experiences of _others_, but also among the various exercises of _his
own mind_; particularly in discerning what within himself was to be laid
to the score of _melancholy_; in which he exceeded all melancholy
persons that ever I was acquainted with. This was doubtless owing to a
peculiar strength in his _judgment_; for it is a rare thing indeed, that
persons under the influence of melancholy are sensible of their own
disease, and convinced that such things are to be ascribed to it, as are
its genuine operations and fruits. Brainerd did not obtain that degree
of skill at once, but gradually; as the reader may discern by the
following account of his life. In the _former_ part of his religious
course, he imputed much of that kind of gloominess of mind to spiritual
_desertion_, which in the latter part of his life he was abundantly
sensible was owing to the disease of _melancholy_; accordingly he often
expressly speaks of it in his diary, as arising from this cause. He
often in conversation spoke of the difference between melancholy and
godly sorrow; between true humiliation and spiritual desertion; and the
great danger of mistaking the one for the other, and the very hurtful
nature of melancholy; discoursing with great judgment upon it, and
doubtless much more judiciously for what he knew by his own experience.
Another imperfection in Brainerd, which may be observed in the following
account of his life, was his being _excessive in his labors_; not taking
due care to proportion his fatigues to his strength. Indeed, the seeming
calls of Providence were very often such as made it extremely difficult
for him to avoid laboring beyond his strength; yea, his circumstances,
and the business of his mission among the Indians, were such, that great
fatigues and hardships were altogether inevitable. However, he was
finally convinced that he had erred in this matter, and that he ought to
have taken more thorough care, and been more resolute to withstand
temptations to such degrees of labor as injured his health; and
accordingly he warned his brother, who succeeded him in his mission, to
be careful to avoid this error.
Besides the imperfections already mentioned, it is readily allowed that
there were some imperfections which ran through his whole life, and were
mixed with all his religious affections and exercises; some mixture of
what was natural, with that which was spiritual; as it evermore is in
the best saints in this world. Doubtless, natural temper had some
influence in the religious exercises of Brainerd, as it most apparently
had in those of the devout David, and the Apostles Peter, John, and
Paul. There was undoubtedly very often some mixture of melancholy with
true godly sorrow and real Christian humility; some mixture of the
natural fire of youth, with his holy zeal for God; and some influence of
natural principles, mixed with grace in various other respects, as it
ever was and ever will be with the saints, while on this side heaven.
Perhaps none were more sensible of Brainerd’s imperfections than
himself; or could distinguish more accurately than he, between what was
natural and what was spiritual. It is easy for the judicious reader to
observe that his graces ripened, that the religious exercises of his
heart became more and more pure, and he more and more distinguishing in
his judgment, the longer he lived. He had much to teach and purify him,
and he failed not to profit thereby.
Notwithstanding all these imperfections, every pious and judicious
reader will readily acknowledge that what is here set before him is a
remarkable instance of true and eminent piety, in heart and
practice—tending greatly to confirm the reality of vital religion, and
the power of godliness; that it is most worthy of imitation, and in many
ways calculated to promote the spiritual benefit of the careful
observer.
The reader should be aware that what Brainerd wrote in his _diary_, out
of which the following account of his life is chiefly taken, was written
only for his own private use; and not to obtain honor and applause in
the world, nor with any design that the world should ever see it, either
while he lived, or after his death; except a few things which he wrote
in a dying state, after he had been persuaded, with difficulty, not
entirely to suppress all his private writings. He showed himself almost
invincibly averse to the publishing of any part of his _diary_ after his
death; and when he was thought to be dying at Boston, gave the most
strict, peremptory orders to the contrary. But being by some of his
friends there, prevailed upon to withdraw so strict and absolute a
prohibition, he was finally pleased to yield so far, as that “his papers
should be left in my hands, that I might dispose of them as I thought
would be most for God’s glory and the interest of religion.”
JONATHAN EDWARDS.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
=LIFE=
OF
=REV. DAVID BRAINERD.=
------------------------------------
CHAPTER I.
_From his birth to the time when he began to study for the
Ministry—containing his own narrative of his conversion, his
connection with Yale-College, and the grounds of his expulsion._
April 20, 1718-Feb. 1741.
David Brainerd was born April 20, 1718, at Haddam, Connecticut. His
father was Hezekiah Brainerd, Esq. and his mother, Dorothy Hobart,
daughter of the Rev. Jeremiah Hobart.
He was the third son of his parents, who had five sons and four
daughters. The oldest son was a respectable citizen of Haddam; the
second was Rev. Nehemiah Brainerd, a worthy minister in Eastbury, in
Connecticut; the fourth, Mr. John Brainerd, who succeeded his brother
David as missionary to the Indians, and pastor of the same church of
Christian Indians in New-Jersey; and the fifth was Israel, lately
student at Yale-College, who died soon after his brother David. Their
mother, having lived about five years a widow, died when the subject of
this memoir was about fourteen years of age; so that in his youth he was
left both fatherless and motherless. The following is the account he has
himself given of the first twenty-three years of his life.
“I was from my youth somewhat sober, and inclined to melancholy; but do
not remember any thing of conviction of sin, worthy of remark, till I
was, I believe, about seven or eight years of age. Then I became
concerned for my soul, and terrified at the thoughts of death; and was
driven to the performance of religious duties: but it appeared a
melancholy business that destroyed my eagerness for play. And though,
alas! this religious concern was but short-lived, I sometimes attended
secret prayer; and thus lived “without God in the world,” and without
much concern, as I remember, till I was above thirteen years of age. In
the winter of 1732 I was roused out of this carnal security by, I scarce
know what means at first; but was much excited by the prevalence of a
mortal sickness in Haddam. I was frequent, constant, and somewhat
fervent in prayer; and took delight in reading, especially Mr. JANEWAY’s
_Token for Children_. I felt sometimes much melted in the duties of
religion, took great delight in the performance of them, and sometimes
hoped that I was converted, or at least in a good and hopeful way for
heaven and happiness; not knowing what conversion was. The Spirit of God
at this time proceeded far with me. I was remarkably dead to the world;
my thoughts were almost wholly employed about my soul’s concerns; and I
may indeed say, “Almost I was persuaded to be a Christian.” I was also
exceedingly distressed and melancholy at the death of my mother, in
March, 1732. But afterward my religious concern began to decline, and by
degrees I fell back into a considerable degree of security, though I
still attended secret prayer.
“About the 15th of April, 1733, I removed from my father’s house to
East-Haddam, where I spent four years; but still “without God in the
world,” though, for the most part, I went a round of secret duty. I was
not much addicted to the company and the amusements of the young; but
this I know, that when I did go into such company I never returned with
so good a conscience as when I went. It always added new guilt, made me
afraid to come to the throne of grace, and spoiled those good frames
with which I was wont sometimes to please myself. But, alas! all my good
frames were but self-righteousness, not founded on a desire for the
glory of God.
“About the end of April, 1737, being full nineteen years of age, I
removed to Durham, to work on my farm, and continued about one year;
frequently longing after a liberal education. When about twenty years of
age I applied myself to study; and was now engaged more than ever in the
duties of religion. I became very strict, and watchful over my thoughts,
words, and actions; concluded that I must be sober indeed, because I
designed to devote myself to the ministry; and _imagined_ that I _did_
dedicate myself to the Lord.
“Sometime in April, 1738, I went to live with Rev. Mr. Fiske, of Haddam,
and continued with him during his life. I remember he advised me wholly
to abandon young company, and associate myself with grave elderly
people; which counsel I followed. My manner of life was now wholly
regular, and full of religion, such as it was; for I read my bible more
than twice through in less than a year, spent much time every day in
prayer and other secret duties, gave great attention to the word
preached, and endeavored to my utmost to retain it. So much concerned
was I about religion, that I agreed with some young persons to meet
privately on Sabbath evenings for religious exercises, and thought
myself _sincere_ in these duties; and after our meeting was ended I used
to repeat the discourses of the day to myself; recollecting what I
could, though sometimes very late at night. I used occasionally on
Monday mornings to recollect the same sermons; had sometimes pleasure in
religious exercises, and had many thoughts of joining the church. In
short, I had a very good _outside_, and rested entirely on my duties,
though I was not sensible of it.
“After Mr. Fiske’s death I proceeded in my studies with my brother; was
still very constant in religious duties, often wondered at the levity of
professors, and lamented their carelessness in religion.—Thus I
proceeded a considerable length on a _self-righteous_ foundation; and
should have been entirely lost and undone had not the mere mercy of God
prevented.
“Sometime in the beginning of winter, 1738, it pleased God, one Sabbath
morning, as I was walking out for secret duties, to give me on a sudden
such a sense of my danger, and the wrath of God, that I stood amazed,
and my former good frames presently vanished. From the view which I had
of my sin and vileness, I was much distressed all that day, fearing that
the vengeance of God would soon overtake me. I was much dejected; kept
much alone; and sometimes envied the birds and beasts their happiness,
because they were not exposed to eternal misery, as I evidently saw that
I was. Thus I lived from day to day, being frequently in great distress:
sometimes there appeared mountains before me to obstruct my hopes of
mercy; and the work of conversion appeared so great, that I thought I
should never be the subject of it. I used, however, to pray and cry to
God, and perform other duties with great earnestness; and thus hoped by
some means to make the case better.
“Hundreds of times I renounced all pretences of any worth in my duties,
as I thought, even while performing them; and often confessed to God
that I deserved nothing for the very best of them, but eternal
condemnation; yet still I had a secret hope of _recommending_ myself to
God by my religious duties. When I prayed affectionately, and my heart
seemed in some measure to melt, I hoped that God would be thereby moved
to pity me. There was, then, some appearance of _goodness_ in my
prayers, and I seemed to _mourn_ for sin. I could in some measure
venture on the mercy of God in Christ, as I thought; though the
preponderating thought, the foundation of my hope was some imagination
of goodness in my meltings of heart, the warmth of my affections, and my
extraordinary enlargements in prayer. Though at times the gate appeared
so very strait that it looked next to impossible to enter; yet, at other
times I flattered myself that it was not so very difficult, and hoped I
should by diligence and watchfulness soon gain the point. Sometimes
after enlargement in duty and considerable affection, I hoped I had made
a _good step_ toward heaven, and imagined that God was affected as I
was, and would hear such _sincere cries_, as I called them. And so
sometimes, when I withdrew for secret prayer in great distress, I
returned comfortable; and thus healed myself with my duties.
“In February, 1739, I set apart a day for secret fasting and prayer, and
spent the day in almost incessant cries to God for mercy, that he would
open my eyes to see the evil of sin, and the way of life by Jesus
Christ. God was pleased that day to make considerable discoveries of my
heart to me. Still I _trusted_ in all the duties I performed, though
there was no manner of goodness in them; there being in them no respect
to the glory of God, nor any such principle in my heart. Yet God was
pleased to make my endeavors, that day, a means to show me my
helplessness in some measure.
“Sometimes I was greatly encouraged, and imagined that God loved me and
was pleased with me, and thought I should soon be fully reconciled to
God. But the whole was founded on mere presumption, arising from
enlargement in duty, or warmth of affections, or some good resolutions,
or the like. And when, at times, great distress began to arise on a
sight of my vileness and inability to deliver myself from a sovereign
God, I used to put off the discovery, as what I could not bear. Once, I
remember, a terrible pang of distress seized me; and the thought of
renouncing myself, and standing naked before God, stripped of all
goodness, was so dreadful to me that I was ready to say to it, as Felix
to Paul, “Go thy way for this time.” Thus, though I daily longed for
greater conviction of sin; supposing that I must see more of my dreadful
state in order to a remedy; yet, when the discoveries of my vile, wicked
heart were made to me, the sight was so dreadful, and showed me so
plainly my exposedness to damnation, that I could not endure it. I
constantly strove after whatever _qualifications_ I imagined others
obtained before the reception of Christ, in order to _recommend_ me to
his favor. Sometimes I felt the power of a hard heart, and supposed it
must be softened before Christ would accept of me; and when I felt any
meltings of heart, I hoped now the work was almost done. Hence, when my
distress still remained I was wont to murmur at God’s dealings with me;
and thought, when others felt their hearts softened, God showed them
mercy; but my distress remained still.
“At times I grew remiss and sluggish, without any great convictions of
sin, for a considerable time together; but after such a season
convictions sometimes seized me more violently. One night I remember in
particular, when I was walking solitarily abroad, I had opened to me
such a view of my sin that I feared the ground would cleave asunder
under my feet, and become my grave; and send my soul quick into hell,
before I could get home. Though I was forced to go to bed, lest my
distress should be discovered by others, which I much feared; yet I
scarcely durst sleep at all, for I thought it would be a great wonder if
I should be out of hell in the morning. And though my distress was
sometimes thus great, yet I greatly dreaded the loss of _convictions_,
and returning back to a state of carnal security, and to my former
insensibility of impending wrath; which made me exceedingly exact in my
behaviour, lest I should stifle the motions of God’s Holy Spirit. When
at any time I took a view of my convictions, and thought the degree of
them to be considerable, I was wont to trust in them; but this
confidence, and the hope of soon making some notable advances toward
deliverance, would ease my mind, and I soon became more senseless and
remiss. Again, when I discerned my convictions to grow languid, and
thought them about to leave me, this immediately alarmed and distressed
me. Sometimes I expected to take a large step, and get very far toward
conversion, by some particular opportunity or means I had in view.
“The many disappointments, the great distress and perplexity which I
experienced, put me into a most horrible frame of contesting with the
almighty; with inward vehemence and virulence finding fault with his
ways of dealing with mankind. My wicked heart often wished for some
other way of salvation than by Jesus Christ. Being like the troubled
sea, my thoughts confused, I used to contrive to escape the wrath of God
by some other means. I had strange projects, full of Atheism, contriving
to disappoint God’s designs and decrees concerning me, or to escape his
notice and hide myself from him. But when upon reflection I saw these
projects were vain, and would not serve me, and that I could contrive
nothing for my own relief, this would throw my mind into the most horrid
frame, to wish there was no God, or to wish there was some _other_ God
that could control him. These thoughts and desires were the secret
inclinations of my heart, frequently acting before I was aware; but,
alas! they were _mine_, although I was frightened when I came to reflect
on them. When I considered, it distressed me to think that my heart was
so full of enmity against God; and it made me tremble, lest his
vengeance should suddenly fall upon me. I used before to imagine that my
heart was not so bad as the Scriptures and some other books represented
it. Sometimes I used to take much pains to work it up into a good frame,
a humble submissive disposition; and hoped there was _then_ some
goodness in me. But, on a sudden, the thoughts of the strictness of the
law, or the sovereignty of God, would so irritate the corruption of my
heart that I had so watched over and hoped I had brought to a good
frame, that it would break over all bounds, and burst forth on all
sides, like floods of waters when they break down their dam.
“Being sensible of the necessity of deep humiliation in order to a
saving close with Christ, I used to set myself to produce in my own
heart the _convictions_ requisite in such a humiliation: as, a
conviction that God would be just, if he cast me off for ever; that if
ever God should bestow mercy on me, it would be mere grace, though I
should be in distress many years first, and be never so much engaged in
duty; and that God was not in the least obliged to pity me the more for
all past duties, cries, and tears. I strove to my utmost to bring myself
to a firm belief of these things and a hearty assent to them; and hoped
that now I was brought off from _myself_, truly humbled, and that I
bowed to the divine sovereignty. I was wont to tell God in my prayers,
that now I had those very dispositions of soul which he required, and on
which he showed mercy to others, and thereupon to beg and plead for
mercy to me. But when I found no relief, and was still oppressed with
guilt and fears of wrath, my soul was in a tumult, and my heart rose
against God, as dealing hardly with me. Yet _then_ my conscience flew in
my face, putting me in mind of my late confession to God of his
_justice_ in my condemnation. This, giving me a sight of the badness of
my heart, threw me again into distress; and I wished that I had watched
my heart more narrowly, to keep it from breaking out against God’s
dealings with me. I even wished that I had not pleaded for mercy on
account of my humiliation; because thereby I had lost all my seeming
goodness. Thus, scores of times I vainly imagined myself humbled and
prepared for saving mercy. While I was in this distressed, bewildered,
and tumultuous state of mind, the corruption of my heart was especially
_irritated_ with the following things.
1. “The _strictness_ of the divine _law_. For I found it was impossible
for me, after my utmost pains, to answer its demands. I often made new
resolutions, and as often broke them. I imputed the whole to
carelessness, and the want of being more watchful, and used to call
myself a fool for my negligence. But when, upon a stronger resolution,
and greater endeavors, and close application to fasting and prayer, I
found all attempts fail; then I quarrelled with the law of God, as
unreasonably rigid. I thought, if it extended only to my _outward_
actions and behavior, that I could bear with it; but I found that it
condemned me for my evil thoughts, and sins of my _heart_, which I could
not possibly prevent. I was extremely loth to own my utter helplessness
in this matter: but after repeated disappointments, thought that rather
than perish I could do a little more still; especially if such and such
circumstances might but attend my endeavors and strivings. I hoped that
I should strive more earnestly than ever, if the matter came to
extremity, though I never could find the time to do my utmost in the
manner I intended. This hope of future more favorable circumstances, and
of doing something great hereafter, kept me from utter despair in
myself, and from seeing myself fallen into the hands of a sovereign God,
and dependent on nothing but free and boundless grace.
2. “Another point that irritated me was, _that faith alone was the
condition of salvation_; that God would not come down to lower terms;
and that he would not promise life and salvation upon my sincere and
hearty prayers and endeavors. That word, Mark 16:16, “He that believeth
not shall be damned,” cut off all hope there. I found that faith was the
sovereign gift of God; that I could not get it as of myself; and could
not oblige God to bestow it upon me by any of my performances, Eph. 2:1,
8. “This,” I was ready to say, “is a hard saying, who can hear it?” I
could not bear that all I had done should stand for mere nothing; as I
had been very conscientious in duty, had been very religious a great
while, and had, as I thought, done much more than many others who had
obtained mercy. I confessed indeed the vileness of my duties; but then
what made them at that time seem vile, was my wandering thoughts in
them, rather than because I was all over defiled like a devil, and the
principle corrupt from whence they flowed, so that I could not possibly
do any thing that was good. Hence I called what I did by the name of
_honest faithful endeavors_; and could not bear it, that God had made no
promises of salvation to them.
3. “I could not find out _what_ faith was; or _what_ it was to believe
and come to Christ. I read the calls of Christ to the _weary_ and _heavy
laden_; but could find no way in which he directed them to come. I
thought I would gladly come, if I knew how; though the path of duty were
never so difficult. I read Stoddard’s _Guide to Christ_, (which I trust
was, in the hand of God, the happy means of my conversion,) and my heart
rose against the author; for though he told me my very heart all along
under convictions, and seemed to be very beneficial to me in his
directions; yet here he seemed to me to fail: he did not tell me any
thing I could do that would bring me to Christ, but left me as it were
with a great gulph between me and Christ, without any direction how to
get through. For I was not yet effectually and experimentally taught,
that there could be no way prescribed, whereby a natural man could, of
his own strength, obtain that which is supernatural, and which the
highest angel cannot give.
4. “Another point was the _sovereignty_ of God. I could not bear that it
should be wholly at God’s pleasure, to save or damn me, just as he
would. That passage, Rom. 9:11-23, was a constant vexation to me,
especially verse 21. Reading or meditating on this, always destroyed my
seeming good frames; for when I thought I was almost humbled, and almost
resigned, this passage would make my enmity against God appear. When I
came to reflect on the inward enmity and blasphemy which arose on this
occasion, I was the more afraid of God, and driven further from any
hopes of reconciliation with him. It gave me a dreadful view of myself;
I dreaded more than ever to see myself in God’s hands, and it made me
more opposite than ever to submit to his sovereignty; for I thought He
designed my damnation.
“All this time the Spirit of God was powerfully at work with me; and I
was inwardly pressed to relinquish all _self-confidence_, all hope of
ever helping myself by any means whatsoever. The conviction of my lost
estate was sometimes so clear and manifest before my eyes that it was as
if it had been declared to me in so many words, “It is done, it is done,
it is for ever impossible to deliver yourself.” For about three or four
days my soul was thus greatly distressed. At some turns, for a few
moments, I seemed to myself lost and undone; but then would shrink back
immediately from the sight, because I dared not venture myself into the
hands of God, as wholly helpless, and at the disposal of his sovereign
pleasure. I dared not see that important truth concerning myself, that I
was “dead in trespasses and sins.” But when I had, as it were, thrust
away these views of myself at any time, I felt distressed to have the
same discoveries of myself again; for I greatly feared being given over
of God to final stupidity. When I thought of putting it off to a more
“convenient season,” the conviction was so close and powerful, that the
_present_ time was the best, and probably the _only_ time, that I dared
not put it off.
“It was the sight of truth concerning myself, truth respecting my state,
as a creature fallen and alienated from God, and that consequently could
make no demands on God for mercy, but was at his absolute disposal, from
which my soul shrank away, and which I trembled to think of beholding.
Thus, he that doeth evil, as all unregenerate men continually do, hates
the light of truth, neither cares to come to it, because it will reprove
his deeds, and show him his just deserts. John, 3:20. Sometime before, I
had taken much pains, as I thought, to submit to the sovereignty of God;
yet I mistook the thing, and did not once imagine, that seeing and being
made experimentally sensible of this truth, which my soul now so much
dreaded and trembled at, was the frame of soul which I had so earnestly
desired. I had ever hoped that when I had attained to that _humiliation_
which I supposed necessary to precede faith, then it would not be fair
for God to _cast me off_; but now I saw it was so far from any goodness
in me, to own myself spiritually dead and destitute of all goodness,
that on the contrary, my mouth would be for ever stopped by it; and it
looked as dreadful to me, to see myself, and the relation I stood in to
God—I a sinner and criminal, and he a great Judge and Sovereign—as it
would be to a poor trembling creature to venture off some high
precipice. Hence I put it off for a minute or two, and tried for better
circumstances to do it in: either I must read a passage or two, or pray
first, or something of the like nature; or else put off my submission to
God with an objection, that I did not know how to submit. But the truth
was, I could see no safety in owning myself in the hands of a sovereign
God, and could lay no claim to any thing better than damnation.
“After a considerable time spent in similar exercises and distress, one
morning, while I was walking in a solitary place, as usual, I at once
saw that all my contrivances and projects to effect or procure
deliverance and salvation for myself were utterly in vain; I was brought
quite to a stand, as finding myself totally lost. I had thought many
times before, that the difficulties in my way were very great; but now I
saw, in another and very different light, that it was for ever
impossible for me to do any thing toward helping or delivering myself. I
then thought of blaming myself, that I had not done more, and been more
engaged, while I had opportunity—for it seemed now as if the season of
doing was for ever over and gone—but I instantly saw, that let me have
done what I would, it would no more have tended to my helping myself,
than what I had done; that I had made all the pleas I ever could have
made to all eternity; and that all my pleas were vain. The tumult that
had been before in my mind was now quieted; and I was somewhat eased of
that distress which I felt while struggling against a sight of myself,
and of the divine sovereignty. I had the greatest certainty that my
state was for ever miserable, for all that I could do; and wondered that
I had never been sensible of it before.
“While I remained in this state my notions respecting my duties were
quite different from what I had ever entertained in times past. Before
this, the more I did in duty, the more hard I thought it would be for
God to cast me off; though at the same time I confessed, and thought I
saw, that there was no goodness or merit in my duties; but now, the more
I did in prayer or any other duty, the more I saw that I was indebted to
God for allowing me to ask for mercy; for I saw that self interest had
led me to pray, and that I had never once prayed from any respect to the
glory of God. Now I saw that there was no necessary connection between
my prayers and the bestowment of divine mercy; that they laid not the
least obligation upon God to bestow his grace upon me; and that there
was no more virtue or goodness in them than there would be in my
_paddling with my hand in the water_, (which was the comparison I had
then in my mind;) and this because they were not performed from any love
or regard to God. I saw that I had been heaping up my devotions before
God, fasting, praying, &c. pretending, and indeed really thinking
sometimes, that I was aiming at the glory of God; whereas I never once
truly intended it, but only my own happiness. I saw that as I had never
done any thing for God, I had no claim on any thing from him, but
perdition, on account of my hypocrisy and mockery. Oh, how different did
my duties now appear from what they used to do! I used to charge them
with sin and imperfection; but this was only on account of the wandering
and vain thoughts attending them, and not because I had no regard to God
in them; for this I thought I had. But when I saw evidently that I had
had regard to nothing but self-interest; then they appeared a vile
mockery of God, self-worship, and a continued course of lies. I saw that
something worse had attended my duties than barely a few wanderings; for
the whole was nothing but self-worship, and an horrid abuse of God.
“I continued, as I remember, in this state of mind from Friday morning
till the Sabbath evening following, (July 12, 1739,) when I was walking
again in the same solitary place where I was brought to see myself lost
and helpless, as before mentioned. Here, in a mournful melancholy state,
I was attempting to pray; but found no heart to engage in prayer or any
other duty. My former concern, exercise, and religious affections were
now gone. I thought that the Spirit of God had quite left me; but still
was not distressed; yet disconsolate, as if there was nothing in heaven
or earth could make me happy. Having been thus endeavoring to
pray—though, as I thought, very stupid and senseless—for near half an
hour; then, as I was walking in a dark thick grove, unspeakable glory
seemed to open to the view and apprehension of my soul. I do not mean
any external brightness, for I saw no such thing; nor do I intend any
imagination of a body of light, somewhere in the third heavens, or any
thing of that nature; but it was a new inward apprehension or view that
I had of God, such as I never had before, nor any thing which had the
least resemblance of it. I stood still, wondered, and admired! I knew
that I never had seen before any thing comparable to it for excellency
and beauty; it was widely different from all the conceptions that ever I
had of God, or things divine. I had no particular apprehension of any
one person in the Trinity, either the Father, the Son, or the Holy
Ghost; but it appeared to be Divine _glory_ that I then beheld. My soul
rejoiced with joy unspeakable, to see such a God, such a glorious divine
Being; and I was inwardly pleased and satisfied, that he should be God
over all for ever and ever. My soul was so captivated and delighted with
the excellency, loveliness, greatness, and other perfections of God,
that I was even swallowed up in him; at least to that degree that I had
no thought, as I remember, _at first_, about my own salvation, and
scarce reflected that there was such a creature as myself.
“Thus God, I trust, brought me to a hearty disposition to _exalt him_,
and set him on the throne, and principally and ultimately to aim at his
honor and glory, as King of the universe. I continued in this state of
inward joy, peace and astonishment, till near dark, without any sensible
abatement; and then began to think and examine what I had seen; and felt
sweetly composed in my mind all the evening following. I felt myself in
a new world, and every thing about me appeared with a different aspect
from what it was wont to do.
“At this time the _way of salvation_ opened to me with such infinite
wisdom, suitableness, and excellency, that I wondered I should ever
think of any other way of salvation; I was amazed that I had not dropped
my own contrivances and complied with this lovely, blessed, and
excellent way before. If I could have been saved by my own duties, or
any other way that I had formerly contrived, my whole soul would now
have refused. I wondered that all the world did not see and comply with
this way of salvation, entirely by the _righteousness of Christ_.
“The sweet relish of what I then felt continued with me for several
days, almost constantly, in a greater or less degree. I could not but
sweetly rejoice in God, lying down and rising up. The next Lord’s day I
felt something of the same kind, though not so powerful as before. But
not long after, I was again involved in darkness, and in great distress;
yet not of the same kind with my distress under convictions. I was
guilty, afraid, and ashamed to come before God; and exceedingly pressed
with a sense of guilt; but it was not long before I felt, I trust, true
repentance and joy in God.
“In the beginning of September I went to Yale College, and entered
there; but with some degree of reluctance, lest I should not be able to
lead a life of strict religion in the midst of so many temptations.
After this, in the vacation, before I went to tarry at college, it
pleased God to visit my soul with clearer manifestations of himself and
his grace. I was spending some time in prayer and self-examination, when
the Lord, by his grace, so shined into my heart, that I enjoyed full
assurance of his favor, for that time; and my soul was unspeakably
refreshed with divine and heavenly enjoyments. At this time especially,
as well as some others, sundry passages of God’s word opened to my soul
with divine clearness, power, and sweetness, so as to appear exceeding
precious, and with clear and certain evidence of its being _the word of
God_. I enjoyed considerable sweetness in religion all the winter
following.
“In Jan. 1740, the measles spread much in college, and I, having taken
the distemper, went home to Haddam. But some days before I was taken
sick I seemed to be greatly deserted, and my soul mourned the absence of
the Comforter exceedingly. It seemed to me that all comfort was for ever
gone. I prayed and cried to God for help, yet found no present comfort
or relief. But through divine goodness, a night or two before I was
taken ill, while I was walking alone in a very retired place, and
engaged in meditation and prayer, I enjoyed a sweet refreshing visit, as
I trust, from above; so that my soul was raised far above the fears of
death. Indeed, I rather longed for death, than feared it. Oh, how much
more refreshing this one season was, than all the pleasures and delights
that earth can afford. After a day or two I was taken with the measles,
and was very ill indeed, so that I almost despaired of life; but had no
distressing fears of death. Through divine goodness I soon recovered;
yet, owing to hard study, and to my being much exposed to interruptions
on account of my _freshmanship_, I had but little time for spiritual
duties, and my soul often mourned for want of more time and opportunity
to be alone with God. In the spring and summer following I had better
advantages for retirement, and enjoyed more comfort in religion, though
my ambition in my studies greatly wronged the activity and vigor of my
spiritual life. It was, however, usually the case with me, that, “in the
multitude of my thoughts within me, God’s comforts _principally_
delighted my soul.” These were my greatest consolations day by day.
“One day, I think it was in June, 1740, I walked to a considerable
distance from college, in the fields alone, at noon, and in prayer found
such unspeakable sweetness and delight in God, that I thought, if I must
continue in this evil world, I wanted always to be there, to behold
God’s glory. My soul dearly loved all mankind, and longed exceedingly
that they should enjoy what I enjoyed. It seemed to be a little
resemblance of heaven.
“Some time in August following I became so reduced in health by too
close application to my studies, that I was advised by my tutor to go
home, and disengage my mind from study as much as I could; for I was
grown so weak that I began to raise blood. I took his advice, and
endeavored to lay aside my studies. But being brought very low, I looked
death in the face more steadfastly; and the Lord was pleased to give me
renewedly a sweet sense and relish of divine things; and particularly
October 13, I found divine help and consolation in the precious duties
of secret prayer and self-examination, and my soul took delight in the
blessed God:—so likewise on the 17th of October.
_Oct. 18._ “In my morning devotions my soul was exceedingly melted, and
bitterly mourned over my great _sinfulness_ and _vileness_. I never
before had felt so pungent and deep a sense of the odious nature of sin,
as at this time. My soul was then unusually carried forth in love to
God, and had a lively sense of God’s love to me. And this love and hope,
at that time case out fear.
_Lord’s day, Oct. 19._ “In the morning I felt my soul hungering and
thirsting after righteousness. While I was looking on the elements of
the Lord’s Supper, and thinking that Jesus Christ was now “set forth
crucified before me,” my soul was filled with light and love, so that I
was almost in an ecstacy; my body was so weak I could scarcely stand. I
felt at the same time an exceeding tenderness and most fervent love
toward all mankind; so that my soul and all its powers seemed, as it
were, to melt into softness and sweetness. But during the communion
there was some abatement of this life and fervor. This love and joy cast
out fear; and my soul longed for perfect grace and glory. This frame
continued till the evening, when my soul was sweetly spiritual in secret
duties.
_Oct. 20._ “I again found the assistance of the Holy Spirit in secret
duties, both morning and evening, and life and comfort in religion
through the whole day.
_Oct. 21._ “I had likewise experience of the goodness of God in
‘shedding abroad his love in my heart,’ and giving me delight and
consolation in religious duties; and all the remaining part of the week
my soul seemed to be taken up with divine things. I now so longed after
God, and to be freed from sin, that, when I felt myself recovering, and
thought I must return to college again, which had proved so hurtful to
my spiritual interests the year past, I could not but be grieved, and
thought I had much rather die; for it distressed me to think of getting
away from God. But before I went I enjoyed several other sweet and
precious seasons of communion with God, (particularly Oct. 30, and Nov.
4,) wherein my soul enjoyed unspeakable comfort.
“I returned to college about Nov. 6, and, through the goodness of God,
felt the power of religion almost daily, for the space of six weeks.
_Nov. 28._ “In my evening devotion I enjoyed precious discoveries of
God, and was unspeakably refreshed with that passage, Heb. 12:22-24. My
soul longed to wing away to the paradise of God; I longed to be
conformed to God in all things.—A day or two after I enjoyed much of the
light of God’s countenance, most of the day; and my soul rested in God.
_Dec. 9._ “I was in a comfortable frame of soul most of the day; but
especially in evening devotions, when God was pleased wonderfully to
assist and strengthen me; so that I thought nothing should ever move me
from the love of God in Christ Jesus my Lord. Oh! _one hour with God_
infinitely exceeds all the pleasures and delights of this lower world.
“Toward the latter part of January, 1741, I grew more cold and dull in
religion, by means of my old temptation, ambition in my studies. But
through divine goodness, a great and general _awakening_ spread itself
over the college, about the end of February, in which I was much
quickened, and more abundantly engaged in religion.”
This awakening was at the beginning of that extraordinary religious
commotion which then prevailed through the land, and in which the
college shared largely. For thirteen months from this time BRAINERD kept
a constant diary containing a very particular account of what passed
from day to day, making two volumes of manuscripts; but when he lay on
his death bed he gave orders (unknown to me till after his death) that
these two volumes should be destroyed, inserting a notice, at the
beginning of the succeeding manuscripts, that a specimen of his manner
of living during that entire period would be found in the first thirty
pages next following, (ending with June 15, 1742,) except that he was
now more “refined from some imprudences and indecent heats” than before.
A circumstance in the life of BRAINERD, which gave great offence to the
rulers of the College, and occasioned his expulsion, it is necessary
should be here particularly related. During the awakening in College,
there were several religious students who associated together for mutual
conversation and assistance in spiritual things. These were wont freely
to open themselves one to another, as special and intimate friends:
BRAINERD was one of this company. And it once happened, that he and two
or three more of these intimate friends were in the hall together after
Mr. Whittlesey, one of the tutors, had engaged in prayer with the
scholars; no other person now remaining in the hall but Brainerd and his
companions. Mr. Whittlesey having been unusually pathetic in his prayer,
one of Brainerd’s friends on this occasion asked him what he thought of
Mr. Whittlesey; he made answer, “He has no more grace than this chair.”
One of the freshmen happening at that time to be near the hall, (though
not in the room,) over-heard these words; and though he heard no name
mentioned, and knew not who was thus censured, informed a certain woman
in the town, withal telling her his own suspicion, that Brainerd said
this of some one of the rulers of the College. Whereupon she informed
the Rector, who sent for this freshman and examined him. He told the
Rector the words which he heard Brainerd utter; and informed him who
were in the room with him at that time. Upon this the Rector sent for
them. They were very backward to inform against their friend respecting
what they looked upon as private conversation; especially as none but
they had heard or knew of whom he had uttered those words: yet the
Rector compelled them to declare what he said, and of whom he said it.
Brainerd looked on himself as very ill used in the management of this
affair; and thought that it was injuriously extorted from his friends,
and then injuriously required of him—as if he had been guilty of some
open, notorious crime—to make a _public_ confession, and to humble
himself before the whole College in the hall, for what he had said only
in private conversation. He not complying with this demand, and having
gone once to the Separate meeting at New-Haven, when forbidden by the
Rector; and also having been accused by one person of saying concerning
the Rector, “that he wondered he did not expect to drop down dead for
fining the scholars who followed Mr. Tennent to Milford, though there
was _no proof_ of it; (and Brainerd ever professed that he did not
remember saying any thing to that purpose,) for these things he was
_expelled_ the college.
How far the circumstances and exigencies of that day might justify such
great severity in the governors of the college, I will not undertake to
determine; it being my aim, not to bring reproach on the authority of
the college, but only to do justice to the memory of a person who was, I
think, eminently one of those whose _memory is blessed_.—The reader will
see, in the sequel, (particularly under date of September 14, 15, 1743,)
in how christian a manner Brainerd conducted himself with respect to
this affair; though he ever, as long as he lived, supposed himself ill
used in the management of it, and in what he suffered.—His expulsion was
in the winter, 1742, while in his third year at college.