The Works of the
Rev. John Wesley, M.A.
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THE
WORKS
OF THE
Rev. JOHN WESLEY, M.A.
Late Fellow of _Lincoln-College_, OXFORD.
VOLUME XII.
BRISTOL:
Printed by WILLIAM PINE, in _Wine-Street_.
MDCCLXXII.
THE
CONTENTS
Of the TWELFTH VOLUME.
An Extract of the Life and Death of
_Thomas Walsh_.
PART III.
Chapter IV. _Of his last sickness._
An Extract of the Life of the late
Rev. Mr. _David Brainerd_.
Part I. _From his birth to the time when he began to devote
himself to the study of divinity._
Part II. _From the time that he began to devote himself to
the study of divinity, till he was examined and licensed to
preach._
Part III. _From the time of his being licensed to preach, till
he was appointed missionary to the Indians._
Part IV. _From the time of his being appointed missionary, to
his entrance on his mission among the Indians at Kaunaumeek._
Part V. _From his first beginning to instruct the Indians at
Kaunaumeek, to his ordination._
Part VI. _From his ordination, till he began to preach to the
Indians at Crosweeksung._
Part VII. _From his first beginning to preach to the Indians
at Crosweeksung, till he returned from his last journey to
Susquahannah._
Part VIII. _After his return from his last journey to
Susquahannah, until his death._
Illustration: (‡ decoration)
An EXTRACT of the
LIFE AND DEATH OF
THOMAS WALSH.
PART III.
CHAPTER IV.
_Of his last sickness and death._
HIS state of body in general (as has been related) was that of a
lingering death, which however, being interspersed with intervals of
comparative health and strength, admitted of his still going on, in the
work of his calling. But by his last sickness is meant, that degree of
disease, which admitted of no such interval; and at last took him off
entirely, from all mental or bodily labour, and ended in his removal
hence.
This his last illness may be dated from _February 24, 1758_, a few
days after his arrival at _Bristol_, in his way to _Ireland_. After
preaching twice as usual, and studying hard all day, he was seized with
violent pains in his head, and in all his bones. He however rose the
next morning at his usual time, and preached; retiring afterwards to
his daily exercises; but still feeling the pressure of the disorder,
“My body says he, trembled with weakness, but my soul was happy in God!”
He avoided yielding to his pains, and proceeded in his Lord’s work as
usual, for several days: till at length he was constrained to take his
bed. Here he was confined for several days; and taking exact notice,
(as his disorder admitted) of the state of his heart, according to
his constant custom, and growing something better, he wrote from the
fulness of his heart his state and sentiments as follows,
“_Saturday March 4._ (The day he took his bed) good is thy will O
Lord. Thy counsels of old are faithfulness and truth. Thou reignest
in righteousness; though no man can know love or hatred, by all that
is before him, _Ecclesiastes ix._ Thou givest account of thy ways to
none; but assurest the righteous, that _it shall be well with him_; and
that thy corrections are with this design, that we may partake of thy
holiness. I am in thy hands, O my God: work thy perfect will in me, and
sustain me in this trial. I call upon thee in the day of trouble; and
believe thou wilt deliver me, and that I shall glorify thee, and praise
thee yet more and more. Thus (as he concludes) I went to bed very ill,
and happy.
“_Sunday 5._ My illness continued and encreased. I had not much
consolation, but was graciously preserved from buffetings. _Monday 6._
Continued in soul as yesterday only with more examination. _Tuesday 7._
I had scarcely any alteration in body or soul. I cried to God, and
he heard me; but the sweet and usual returns of prayer were not.
_Wednesday 8._ God gave me to weep much for the sins of my whole
life. _Thursday 9._ My pains and pleasures, corporal and spiritual,
were as the day before. _Friday 10._ I had more consolation of soul.
_Saturday 11._ The spirit of prayer was plentifully imparted to me: I
could plead the mercies, and promises, and merits of God my Saviour,
and his love and joy were more plentifully poured into my soul.
_Sunday 12._ I had gracious intimations of the good will of God towards
me in this sickness.
“_Monday 13._ I was able to read and pray, and advise friends to love
God and seek him in good earnest, while they had strength. _Tuesday 14._
I was better still, and prayed for the increase of holy love in the
children of God, and for the propagation of the faith in all nations.”
Besides this daily minuting down the state of his soul, he on a general
review (as was his constant manner on these occasions) of the whole,
has, among several other particulars, the following observations,
*“I had a constant witness from the Holy Ghost, that I was a child of
God. However, the sins of my whole life were brought to my remembrance;
particularly those of my heart; the manifold backslidings known only
to God. For altho’ God preserved me from falling even once, into those
sins, in which I lived in the days of my ignorance; nevertheless I saw
my pride, desire, self-will, self-indulgence, levity, and misspending
time.¹ I may add to these, my want of love to God, charity to my
neighbour, and more serious concern for my own soul. I saw how
wonderfully the Lord had dealt with me, raising me from the dust, and
giving me so many and invaluable blessings; so that I ought, more than
all men, to serve and love him.”
¹ So severe a judge was he of himself, while in the judgment
of all who knew his manner of life, he was exemplarily
remarkable for the direct contrary. But “the highest flames
(to use the words of the great, and pious bishop _Taylor_)
are the most tremulous; and so the most holy and eminent
religious persons, are more full of awfulness, and fear,
and modesty, and humility. And it is a sure rule, that
whatsoever heights of piety, union or familiarity, any man
pretends to, it is of the devil, unless the greater also be
the humility of the man.”
“I was moreover deeply convinced how possible, yea easy it is, for a
person after having received great light, love, power, and joy, to fall
notwithstanding, into a certain dulness of soul; and that holy desires,
vehement thirstings after God, and the spirit of prayer, may be
lessened, and lost. Truly we can keep nothing unless the _Holy Ghost_
help our infirmities continually.
*“But the grand lesson of all which in this little interval I learned
was, the absolute necessity of being free from persons, things, and
places. I saw what a tendency the soul has to rest in something beside
God; I saw that even when we give up our beloved sins, and all temporal
things, we are nevertheless apt to rest in the gifts and graces of God;
making them as it were our Saviour, and comforter instead of Christ.”
*“I saw farther, how deeply the love of life and learning had been
rooted in my heart: and that God saw it necessary to correct me often,
to shew me the vanity of both.”
*“I believe he is resolved to save my soul to the uttermost; and he
uses various ways to accomplish this end. I believe this sickness will
be of great service to my soul, and perhaps of more use to the children
of God, than my labours could be. My desire is only to live wholly to
him, and to get more of the love and life of Christ. Lord look upon me,
a weak and unconstant man, and strengthen, and establish my heart with
thy love.
“In exhorting the believers, I found much of divine consolation. O how
sweet were these two hours; and how short! Love is a wonderful thing.”
_Sunday 26._ I was in a high fever, yet when I got with the family,
I forgot my pain, while we conversed of the love of God. It being
_Easter-day_, I examined what I had gained since last _Easter_? And
I trust God has given me more humility, patience, and likeness to
himself.”
He was detained at _Bristol_, thro’ his illness, longer than he had
intended; and was but slightly recovered, when he was told of a ship,
just ready to sail for _Cork_. Being resolved on the journey, and
willing to embrace the very first opportunity, weak as he was, he
embarked at _Pill_ on the 13th of _April_. The passage was ♦extremely
dangerous; insomuch, that the mariners themselves, looked for nothing
less than perishing, so boisterous were the winds and the seas. But see
the blessedness of being true believers in Christ! *Tho’ they expected
every moment to go to the bottom of the great deep; “Yet God, says he,
gave me more faith, and patience, and joy, than ever I felt before.
I could not see death terrible to me. I prayed, and praised God
incessantly; for sleep I could not an hour while on board; and neither
could I eat. But Christ was with me in all, and supported me. I pleaded
with the Lord in behalf of the passengers, beseeching him that he would
not take them away in their sins. They cried out vehemently, ‘We are
not fit to die!’ On their account I did not desire to sleep; I cried
aloud to God in prayer in the cabbin; and they gladly attended _then_.
On _Saturday_ the wind abated, and the next day we landed safe in
_Cork_.”
♦ “extremly” replaced with “extremely”
*On my hearing of his arrival (being then in the county, and it being
many months, since we parted at _London_) I hastened to see him; and
can never forget the idea, which the first sight of him gave me, of
a man in deep _fellowship with_ God. On my opening his room door, and
just appearing, he got up from his chair, being in deep contemplation,
and with a spirit and countenance, composed and solemn as the grave,
he said with a low voice, ‘God bless you.’ We embraced each other
with tears; after which kneeling down, he prayed, as to a _present_
God indeed! with such melting and moving expressions, and with such
reverential confidence, as surpassed all that I had known and admired
in him before; and plainly discovered his having entered since we
parted, much further into _the holiest, by the blood of_ JESUS.
*During the time he stayed here, I was a daily witness of his manner of
life; and saw with much concern, his swift approaching end. He had most
of the symptoms of a consumption, in its last stage: which increased
upon him every day. _The silver cords_ of life began to _loosen, and
the golden bowl_, the whole of this wonderful, and curiously wrought
machine, to _be broken_. He had an intermitting fever, which returned
regularly every day about eleven o’clock; an habitual cough, and most
profuse night-sweats; all which had now so emaciated and weakened
him, that the marks of death already appeared upon him. And yet
notwithstanding this, he still so desired to discourse of the things
of eternity, that, while he was at all able to stand, or speak, he
could not be dissuaded from preaching: and altho’ he brought into the
pulpit the very image of death upon his face, so that it could hardly
be expected he should speak ten minutes; he has nevertheless preached
a full hour, to the astonishment of all who heard him. One would have
thought he must have dropt down dead immediately after.
His internal state, still the object of his close attention, during his
continuance at _Cork_, where there is reason to believe he began first,
to think, this sickness would be unto death, he summarily expresses
thus.
*“_Saturday April 29._ My soul truly waiteth upon God. My body feels
pain and weakness; but my soul enjoys the living fire of the _Holy
Ghost_! Oh, may I die the death of the righteous: and let my last end
be like his! I wait for thy salvation, O Lord! Weak I am, but cannot be
moved while Jesus is my strength. O that every pain may but increase my
love to God! I am supported by the fire within, and by believing that
Jesus is at the right-hand of God.”
The time being come which he had appointed for leaving _Cork_, and
going on to _Limerick_; being attended by his own brother: another
friend and I, accompanied him a dozen miles on the way. At the
inn where we stopped, he discoursed to us at dinner, of the things
pertaining to the life of a Christian, respecting particular instances
of conduct; but his weakness prevented him saying as much as we could
have desired. *I shall never forget our parting! The other persons
being gone down stairs, after he had said some particular things to me,
we kneeled down, and prayed together, for the last time! We then took
our final farewell of each other in this world! He went on his way,
and I went mine; each of us expecting to meet no more, till we met in
happier climes, and in a better world!
*I do not find, that from this time, he kept any further account in
writing, of the daily state of his soul; owing, I am inclined to think,
to the violence of his disorder, which increased now, almost every hour;
and which weakened and impaired the faculties of his mind, as well as
the strength of his body. Hence, beholding things thro’ so defective
a medium, he became in reality, an unfit judge of his own state. The
influence which this kind of disorder in particular, frequently has
upon the powers of the mind, is well known, even to the representing
things which concern one’s self, and others, often directly contrary
to what they really are.
He had the judgment and advice of the best physicians, wherever he
came; who on the slightest intimation, offered their assistance with
all chearfulness, neither expecting nor desiring any other gratuity
than, (as one of them once expressed) “the prayers of Mr. _Walsh_.”
They generally agreed, that his disorder was brought on thro’ excessive
labour――frequent, and loud preaching, intense application to study,
want of proper, and sufficient rest: and fatigue in general. They
likewise judged, that his case was now past all remedy.
*It was however judged advisable, that he should be removed from
_Limerick_, to the more free and open air of the country. He went
thither accordingly, where he had the tenderest and most affectionate
attendance, with whatsoever was judged most proper to alleviate the
rigour of the disease, and restore him, if God should so please, to
health. But it was now too late! And his friends perceiving, that
neither air nor physic availed any thing, they according to his own
inclination and desire, removed him to _Dublin_. His next remove, was
to the city of the great King, the paradise of God!
Concerning the state of his soul, for a few months before his death,
as he wrote nothing on the head during that time, we can speak with
less certainty, than of what has been already related. And embarking
for _England_ soon after we parted, I neither saw nor heard, any thing
particularly concerning him, till a letter brought the tidings of
his being no more in this world. But from the accounts of persons of
undoubted veracity, who attended him during that time, we learn, that
his state was not indeed joyous, but grievous. *He drank of his Lord’s
cup of sorrow, and was in truth deeply, baptized with his baptism. He
was immerged in affliction’s furnace and plunged in the deepest waters.
“His flesh chastized, with tort’ring pain
His soul, and sickness clave his bones;
Keen anguish dwelt in ev’ry vein,
And sadly turn’d his breath to moans.
Sorrow was all his soul; he scarce perceiv’d,
But by the pains he suffer’d, that he liv’d!”
He was tempted, and sorely buffeted of the devil. The nature of his
disorder exposed him to a degree of precipitancy, and discomposure,
which he was more than superior to, while in better health. In short,
so did the wisdom of God permit, that thro’ the malice of _Satan_, the
extreme violence of his disorder, and the concurrence of several other
circumstances, this servant of God, was brought to the utmost extremity
of spiritual distress and anguish, consistent with keeping the faith:
insomuch that it was but few degrees removed from despair.
“His agonizing soul sweat blood!
With Christ he fainted on the tree,
And cry’d in death, ‘My God, my God,
Ah! Why hast thou forsaken me?’”
*His great soul lay thus, as it were in ruins, for some considerable
time; and poured out many a heavy groan, and speechless tear, from
an oppressive heart, and dying body. He sadly bewailed the absence
of him, whose wonted presence had so often given him the victory,
over the manifold contradictions and troubles, which he endured for
his name-sake. A heart so sensible of the visits of its Lord, and so
restless at his smallest absence, as his was throughout his warfare,
must needs be deeply afflicted when left, seemingly to its own poverty,
and surrounded as it were with hosts of infernal fiends, seeking to
devour him. The intervals which he had of cessation from the extremity
of the conflict, and of comparatively quiet confidence in God, are not
perhaps so well known: but that he had such, may well be supposed; for
otherwise his soul and flesh must needs have failed before God.
It was however not till a short time before his complete and eternal
deliverance, that his Lord appeared to his help: and by making himself
known, as Jesus, his well known Saviour, entirely eased the anguish of
his oppressed soul! The beams of his brightness dispersed the clouds:
and the smiles of his countenance more than compensated for all his
night of sorrow. He spoke and said unto him, The winter is passed;
arise my love and come away!
*The manner of his deliverance was as follows. A few friends being at
prayer with him, on _Sunday_ evening; as soon as they concluded, he
desired to be left alone, in order, as he said, “to meditate a little.”
They withdrew; and he remained deeply recollected for some time: just
then, God, dropping into his soul, no doubt, some lively foretaste of
the joys to come, and spreading the day of eternity thro’ the regions
of his inward man; he burst out in transport, and pronounced, in a
dying voice indeed, but with the joy of angels!――――“_He is come!――――He
is come!――――My beloved is mine, and I am his!――――His for ever!_” And
uttering these words, he sweetly breathed out his soul into the arms
of his beloved; on the 8th day of _April 1759_, and in the 28th year
of his age.
The CONCLUSION.
WE cannot sufficiently admire and adore, the unsearchable counsels, and
impenetrable secrets of God our Saviour, with respect to the management
of his kingdom, and the disposal of his servants. Two reflections are
natural, on considering the preceding account in general.
*1. To see a man delivered from the blindness of error and superstition,
and brought into the light and enjoyment of truth; the knowledge of
the true God and of his spiritual worship――to see him brought out from
the obscurity of retirement, and that by the remarkable interposition
of divine providence, in order to spread the savour of the knowledge
of God, among mankind, in the most public manner――to consider him
as singularly fitted for this, by knowledge, by the word of truth,
dwelling richly in him; by purity, by zeal for God’s glory, by the
armour of righteousness, and by the power of God, attending his
word――To see such an one cut off from among men, in the prime of life,
just fully furnished for promoting the kingdom of the Son of God, to
which he was entirely devoted, is a thing which will be acknowledged
to confound human understanding.
Without entring deeply into the matter, one may easily learn herefrom,
at least a confirmation of that weighty truth, that _God is not
worshipped_, or served _by mens hands, as tho’ he needed any_ person or
_thing_. He leaves no one any room to say or think within themselves,
that the cause and glory of God needed them, or at least had _some_
connexion with our standing or being removed. He is at no time at a
loss how to serve his own glory, and the necessities of his creatures.
Hereby moreover he would stain the pride of human glory; and teach us,
what can never be too fully learned, to walk humbly with our God; not
to judge according to appearances; and to learn to conceive of things
and persons, not according to bare human estimation, but according to
the will of God. O that we may learn from every occurrence, to fly to
him, in all our affections and desires! Then whenever our change comes,
we shall be welcomed by superior beings, and not much missed by men,
who delight in novelties.
Whatever secret reasons might be the cause of such a procedure, in
the divine disposals; whether ingratitude, or something bordering upon
idolatry in the people, or whatever was the cause, certain it is, that
we need never fail to reap instruction and advantage, from such awful
providences; the decease of our dearest friends, since
“For _us_ they languish, and for us they die!”
2. But what may seem most strange is, that a person so eminent for
piety, so laborious for God’s glory; so exemplarily religious, in
the whole of his conversation; so useful to others: in a word, so
entirely, and unreservedly devoted to Christ, should in the time of
his greatest necessity, be so destitute of spiritual comfort. And it
must be acknowledged, in great measure, to be a part of those _ways_,
of which God giveth account to none. _His ♦judgments are unsearchable,
and his ways past finding out. His way is in the sea, and his paths in
the great waters; and his footsteps are not known._ And who shall say
to God, “What dost thou?” “What I do thou knowest not _now_,” is indeed
applicable to the general course of God’s providences; and to much of
the experience of Christians in particular; and perhaps this is the
best footing on which to rest the present case, namely the mysterious
councils of God, with respect to his dealings with his servants: with
him we are considering in particular.
♦ “judgment” replaced with “judgments”
Who can account for that providence which left the life of so holy a
person as _John_ the _Baptist_, in such infamous hands! Which permitted
it to be sacrificed to the malice of an abandoned harlot, the petulancy
of a vain girl, and the rashness of a foolish, perhaps drunken prince,
who made a prophet’s head the reward of a dance? The same reasoning
has weight, with respect to the treatment which he has permitted his
most eminent servants in all ages to meet with. It is the fixed decree
of heaven, concerning the righteous, that through much tribulation
(outward or inward, or both) they must enter the kingdom of God. And
the most part of ecclesiastical story, is in great measure no other
than a comment on this great truth; which likewise receives abundant
confirmation from numberless parts of holy scripture.
There may be, for ought that can be known by us, a certain resemblance
in some particulars, between his case of whom we speak, and that of
_Job_ (see chapter ii. 3‒6.) But in both, and indeed in all resembling
instances, the hand of the Lord is visibly seen; that he is pitiful,
and of tender mercy, and afflicts his children only for their profit,
that they might partake of his holiness. And we are well assured, that
he will repay his servants in another world, for whatever they suffer
in this: even ♦such as fill up that which is behind of the afflictions
of Christ in their flesh.
♦ word “of” removed per Errata
As to the difficulty of reconciling with his former enjoyments, and
professions, such a state of conflict and discomfort, as this his last
stage was accompanied with, it may be considered, that although it
was uncommon, yet the case is not singular: to recite examples would
be endless. It is true, that God has given us multiply’d and various
instances, in the last stages of his servants in most ages, both of
triumphant superiority to sickness, pain and death in some: of holy
mourning, deep abasement, and patient resignation, in others: and
there have been those likewise, whose last ♦sicknesses have been such
times of painful purgation from human foibles, and sore conflict from
diabolical temptations, that the utmost they have been able to do, has
been to abide in the furnace; till patience having had its perfect work,
they just stept from the cross――to the crown! Witnessing, only with
their parting breath, Victory! Victory! And all this it is impossible
to account for, by appearances.
♦ “sickness” replaced with “sicknesses” per Errata
Thus we hear one, in his last sickness saying, “I am by the wonderful
mercy of God, as full of comfort as my heart can hold, I feel nothing
in my soul but Christ, with whom I heartily desire to be.” Another, “I
am like a bird upon the wing, and would fain be at _Immanuel_’s land,
where the tree of life is. Here I am a weak man, in the hands of the
king of terrors, rejoicing in hope of the glory that shall be revealed;
and that by the death and resurrection of a despised Christ. All
these soft clothes are like sack cloth, and yet I have perfect rest
of spirit.” Another, “O how does the love of God wipe off all pain!
The servants of God suffer nothing. Their trials are but for a moment;
their joys are eternal!” Ten thousand instances of this sort might be
alledged, in the present generation (to look no farther)――――Persons who
throughout a course of pains and wants, evidenced the ♦glorious
conquest which faith gives over all our enemies, and over death, the
last of all.
♦ “victorious” replaced with “glorious” per Errata
There have been those on the other hand, who after a course of useful
and holy living; of eminency in wisdom, and in favour with God, have
nevertheless, towards the setting of their sun, wanted those joyous
beams of triumphant light and life; and who approached their seat
of repose with many tears and sighs; with shame, and confusion, and
hopes, and dependence; and even at the last, left nothing particularly
memorable, for the discourse, and joy of the survivors;¹ but who
notwithstanding, have attained their wished-for port, and enjoy the
pleasures of those peaceful mansions! _John xiv. 2._
¹ St. _Austin_ is said to have had the penitential psalms
wrote in large characters, and pinned to the inside of the
curtains of his dying bed, desiring to die as he repeated
them with weeping.
Bishop _Usher_ followed the same example and prayed
earnestly to God, to pardon his sins of omission.
“Where conflicts past, redouble present joys!”
Diversity of complexions, different periods of grace, or divine
dispensations; with a thousand particulars known best to God, may be
taken into consideration, in attempting to account for this difference
in the divine disposals concerning his servants. But I forbear
attempting to solve, that of which I am free to profess my ignorance:
and wait for that light, which will infallibly
―――throw full day on darkest scenes of time.
It may be farther observed concerning this servant of God, that
although his comforts had been exceeding great throughout most part
of his experience, yet he had frequent and violent encounters with the
enemy: so that sometimes we find in the same paragraph, acknowledgments
of the great joy and peace which he felt, and complainings of grievous
temptations and trials. Take an instance or two among a thousand, in
his own words.
“I found in retirement sore struggles and deep consolation.” And again,
although love and joy lived and flowed in me, yet I wept and made
supplication, being strongly tempted of the devil. Ah, Lord! Thou
knowest my state, and trials! And my groanings are not hid from thee!
What conflicts with myself do I daily feel!
Some are tempted most in the beginning of their conversion, some
towards the latter end, and others there are, who are sorely tempted
throughout their whole life. The latter was his case. But now
especially, his natural faculties weakning in proportion to the decay
of his bodily strength, rendered him the fitter mark for Satan, to
attack with his last and most violent assaults, which therefore he
plyed to purpose. He could not however make him let go his integrity:
nor did he alter his sentiments, concerning any point of Christian
doctrine, or retract any thing he had formerly said relating thereto.
And as to the course of his most secret walking, altho’ on the whole,
he saw nothing whereof to glory in himself before God; but rather
was continually filled with holy shame and deep abasements, at the
disparity which he still perceived between himself and his holy
Lord; yet there was no particular sin since his conversion, with the
cherishing of which he could charge himself. To which may be added,
that in the midst of this _hour and power of darkness_, he never once
charged God foolishly; but on the contrary he sought to him with groans,
and tears, and cries, without ceasing!
His sufferings both of body and mind were great beyond description:
but when we consider, thus did God permit concerning him, it puts to
silence every doubtful, evil reasoning on the head. By constituting him
a perfect sufferer, God thereby, made him the more conformable to his
suffering, conquering Son; that _Man of sorrows and acquainted with
griefs_! And rendered his condition not that of a bastard, or base-born
child, abandoned of God, and rejected; but on the contrary, that of a
beloved Son scourged and purified by his heavenly Father, that he might
thereby, more eminently partake of his holiness and glory. And should
heaven permit his conveying to us his present sentiments, concerning
his momentary afflictions, we should certainly hear him pronounce to
this effect.
For _all_ I bless thee; most, for the _severe_;
Amidst my list of blessings infinite,
Stand this the foremost, “_that my heart has bled_.”
He had hope in his end, and therefore ceased not to cry to Jesus, who
was with him in _reality_ all the while, in the furnace; and finally
appeared his _friend_ and his _beloved_!
“Tryed to the last but not forsook;
But honour’d with distinguish’d grace,
Heaven-ward he cast a dying look,
And saw once more his Saviour’s face.
‘He’s come! My well-belov’d, he said,
And I am his, and he is mine!’
He spake, he gaz’d, he bow’d his head,
And sunk into the arms divine!”
On the whole, I profess, that although on my first hearing of the
afflictive scene through which he passed, I was more astonished than
at any thing I ever remember to have happened to myself or others;
remaining in dumb suspense, at what could be the cause of so unexpected
a procedure? Nevertheless, I am now inclined to consider the whole
affair as an argument, rather of his strength than the contrary.
His supporting at all under such extreme sufferings, not a little
demonstrates his great soul, and nearness of conformity to God his
Saviour,
“Who drank in his sad days of flesh
The potion by his Father given;
And bids his members feel afresh
The fierceness of the wrath of heaven.”
If thou faintest, saith _Solomon_ in the day of adversity, thy strength
is but small: and by parity of reason, to stand in a time of sore trial
argues proportionable strength. Avert, my God, avert from my soul, ill
able to bear it, such a time of trial! O Jesus, by all thou hast done
and suffered; by thine agony, and bloody sweat, by thy cross and bitter
passion, by thy meritorious death; thy resting in the chambers of the
grave, thy triumphant resurrection, and ascension; and by thy coming
again in glory; in the time of sickness, in death, and in judgment,
deliver my soul, I beseech thee!
In thy fair book of life divine,
My God inscribe my name;
There let me fill some humble shrine,
Beneath the slaughter’d Lamb!
O might I with my ♦closing eyes,
Thee in thy bloody vesture see,
And cast me on thy sacrifice,
Jesus, my Lord, remember me!
♦ “parting breath” replaced with “closing eyes” per Errata
The thoughts of being quickly loosed from the fetters of the body, had
often filled his soul with the most sensible delights, desiring nothing
so much as to see God: and the approaches of eternity did often so
enflame his desires, that he was sometimes in a degree of transport.
But after all that can be said on the head of this his last scene, and
indeed of the methods of God’s providential dispensations in general,
concerning nations or individual persons, it seems the wisest and best
method to rest in that sentiment, namely not curiously to scan them;
but rather to adore in humble silence, his unsearchable judgments and
impenetrable secrets!
Not deeply to discern not much to know,
Mankind was born to _wonder_ and _adore_!
Whatever is permitted to befal them in this world, we are well assured
_it shall be well with the righteous_. All things, whether prosperous
or adverse, shall work together for their good. He that liveth forever
saith, _I come quickly_――――to put a final period to the whole of mortal
things, and determine the states of all the children of _Adam_ for
ever! His reward is with him! We shall see him as he is! Though now we
see him not, yet _believing_ we rejoice! O Jesus, work in our hearts
that conformity to and resemblance of thyself, that we may seek nothing,
but night and day think of, long for, and joyfully wait for thine
appearance!
An EXTRACT of the LIFE
OF THE LATE
Rev. Mr. DAVID BRAINERD,
MISSIONARY to the INDIANS.
ADVERTISEMENT.
THOSE _parts of the following history that are included between_
brackets _thus_ [ ], _are the words of the_ publisher, _Mr._ Jonathan
Edwards, _minister of_ Northampton _in_ New-England, _for the most part
summarily representing the chief things contained in_ Mr. Brainerd’s
_diary: the rest is the account that he gives of himself in his private
writings, in his own words_.
PART I.
_From his birth to the time when he began to devote himself
to the_ study of divinity.
[MR. David Brainerd was born April 20, 1718, at Haddam, a town
belonging to the county of Hartford, in the colony of Connecticut,
New-England. His father, who died when he was about nine years of age,
was the worshipful Hezekiah Brainerd, Esq. one of his Majesty’s council
for that colony, and the son of Daniel Brainerd, Esq. a justice of
the peace, and a deacon of the church in Haddam. His mother was Mrs.
Dorothy Hobart, daughter to the Rev. Mr. Jeremiah Hobart, who preached
awhile at Topsfield, and then removed to Hempstead, on Long-Island,
and afterwards came and settled in the work of the ♦ministry at Haddam;
where he died in the 85th year of his age; of whom it is remarkable,
that he went to the public worship in the forenoon, and died in his
chair between meetings.
♦ “ministy” replaced with “ministry”
Mr. David Brainerd was the third son of his parents. They had five
sons and four daughters. The eldest son is Hezekiah Brainerd, Esq. a
justice of the peace, and for several years past a representative of
the town of Haddam, in the general assembly of Connecticut colony; the
second was the Rev. Nehemiah Brainerd, a worthy minister at Eastbury
in Connecticut, who died of a consumption November 10, 1742; the 4th
is Mr. John Brainerd, who succeeds his brother David as missionary
to the Indians, and pastor of the same church of Christian Indians in
New-Jersey; and the 5th was Israel, late student at Yale-college in
New-Haven, who died since his brother David.――Mrs. Dorothy Brainerd
having lived several years a widow, died when her son David was about
14 years of age: so that in his youth he was left both fatherless and
motherless. What account he has given of himself follows.]
I WAS from my youth something sober and inclined to melancholy, but do
not remember any conviction of sin, till I was seven or eight years of
age; when I grew terrified at the thoughts of death, but this concern
was short lived. However, I sometimes attended secret prayer; and thus
lived at ease till I was above thirteen years of age. But in the winter
1732, I was something roused by the prevailing of a mortal sickness in
Haddam. I was frequent, constant, and something fervent in duties, and
took delight in reading, especially Mr. Janeway’s _Token for Children_;
I was sometimes much melted in duties, and took great delight in the
performance of them. The Spirit of God at this time proceeded far with
me; I was remarkably dead to the world, and my thoughts were almost
wholly employed about my soul’s concerns! I may indeed say, “Almost
I was persuaded to be a Christian.” I was also exceedingly distressed
at the death of my mother, in March, 1732. But afterwards I by degrees
fell back into security, though I still attended to secret prayer.
About the 15th of April 1733, I removed to East-Haddam, where I spent
four years. Here I went a round of secret duty. I was not much addicted
to young company: but when I did go into it, it always added new guilt
to me, and made me afraid to come to the throne of grace.
About the latter end of April 1737, being full nineteen, I removed
to Durham, and began to work on my farm, and so continued till I was
twenty years old; tho’ frequently longing after a liberal education.
When I was about twenty, I applied myself to study, and was engaged
more than ever in the duties of religion. I became very watchful over
my thoughts, words and actions, because I designed to devote myself to
the ministry.
Some time in April 1738, I went to Mr. Fiske’s, and lived with him
during his life¹. He advised me wholly to abandon young company, and
associate myself with grave elderly people: which counsel I followed;
and my manner of life was now exceeding regular. I read my bible more
than twice through in less than a year. I spent much time every day
in secret-duties; I gave great attention to the word preached, and
endeavoured to retain it. I agreed with some young persons to meet on
sabbath-evenings for religious exercises; and after our meeting was
ended, I used to repeat the discourses of the day to myself, though
sometimes it was late in the night. On Monday mornings I used to
recollect the same sermons. And I had sometimes considerable movings
of affections in duties, and much pleasure therein.
¹ Mr. Fiske was pastor of the church in Haddam.
After Mr. Fiske’s death, I proceeded in my learning with my brother,
and was still very constant in religious duties. Thus I proceeded on a
_self-righteous_ foundation;¹ and should still had not the mere mercy
of God prevented.
¹ I doubt that: I believe, this was true religion as far as it
went.
In the beginning of winter, 1738, it pleased God one sabbath-day
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 was much distressed all that day, fearing the vengeance of
God would soon overtake me. I kept much alone, and sometimes grudged
the birds and beasts their happiness, because they were not exposed
to eternal misery, as I saw I was. And thus I lived from day to day,
in great distress: sometimes there appeared mountains before me to
obstruct my hopes of mercy; I used, however to pray and cry to God,
and perform other duties with great earnestness.
In February, 1738‒9, I set apart a day for secret fasting and prayer,
and spent the day in almost incessant cries to God, that he would open
my eyes to see the evil of sin, and the way of life by Jesus Christ.
And God was pleased that day to make considerable discoveries of my
heart to me, and to shew me my _helplessness_. I constantly strove
after whatever _qualifications_ I imagined others obtained before the
reception of Christ. Sometimes I felt the power of an _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;
and hence, when my distress still remained, I was wont to murmur at
God’s dealings with me.
*Sometimes I grew _remiss_ without any great convictions for a
considerable time together; but after such a season, convictions
seized me more violently. One night in particular, when I was walking
solitarily abroad, I had such a view of my sin, that I feared the
ground would cleave asunder, and send my soul quick into hell. And
though I was forced to go to bed, lest my distress should be discovered
by others; yet I scarce durst sleep at all, for I thought it would be
a great wonder, if I should be out of hell in the morning. But though
my distress was thus great, yet I dreaded the loss of convictions,
and returning back to my former insensibility; which made me exceeding
exact in my behaviour, lest I should stifle the motions of God’s spirit.
The many distresses I met with, put me into a most _horrible
contesting_ with the Almighty: with an inward vehemence, finding fault
with his ways of dealing with mankind. I found great fault with the
imputation of Adam’s sin to his posterity; and my wicked heart often
wished for some other way of salvation, than by Jesus Christ. I wished
sometimes there was no God, or that there were some other God that
could controul him. These thoughts frequently passed before I was aware;
but, when I considered this, it distressed me, to think, that my heart
was so full of enmity against God; and it made me tremble, lest God’s
vengeance should suddenly fall upon me. I used before, to imagine my
heart was not so bad, as the scriptures represented. Sometimes I used
to take much pains to bring it into an humble submissive disposition;
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
it would break over all bounds, and burst forth on all sides, like
floods of waters when they break down their damm.
While I was in this distressed state, the _corruption_ of my heart was
especially _irritated_ by these things following,
1. The _strictness_ of the divine _law_. For I found it was impossible
for me (after my utmost pains) to answer the demands of it. I often
made resolutions, and as often broke them. I imputed the whole to
want of being more watchful, and used to call myself a fool for
my negligence. But when, upon a stronger resolution, and greater
endeavours, 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, I could bear with it; but
I found it condemned me for the sins of my heart, which I could not
possibly prevent. I was extremely loath to give out, and own my utter
helplessness; 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 endeavours; I hoped, that I
should strive more earnestly than ever: and this hope of future more
favourable circumstances, and of doing something hereafter, kept me
from utter despair of myself, and from seeing myself fallen into the
hands of God, and dependent on nothing but boundless grace.
*2. Another thing was, that _faith alone_ was the _condition of
salvation_; and that God would not come down to lower terms; that
he would not promise life and salvation upon my sincere prayers and
endeavours. That word, Mark xvi. 16. “He that believeth not, shall be
damned,” cut off all hope there; and I found, faith was the gift of God;
that I could not get it of myself, and could not oblige God to bestow
it upon me, by any of my performances. “This,” I was ready to say, “is
a hard saying, who can bear it?” I could not bear, that all I had done
should stand for a mere nothing, who had been very conscientious in
duty, and had been exceeding religious a great while, and had (as I
thought) done much more than many others that 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; not because I
was all over defiled, and the principle corrupt from whence they flowed,
so that I could not possibly do any thing that was good. And therefore
I called what I did, by the name of faithful endeavours; and could not
bear it, that God had made no promises of salvation to them.
*3. Another thing was, that I could not find out how to come to Christ.
I read the calls of Christ, made to the _weary_ and _heavy laden_; but
could find no way that he directed them to come in. I thought I would
gladly come, if I knew _how_, though the path of duty directed to what
was never so difficult. Mr. Stoddard’s _Guide_ to _Christ_ 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
to get through. For I was not yet 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.
*All this time the Spirit of God was powerfully at work with me; and I
was inwardly pressed to relinquish all _self-confidence_, all hopes of
ever helping myself by any means whatsoever; and the conviction of my
_lost_ estate was sometimes so clear, that it was as if it had been
declared to me in so many words, “It is done, it is for ever impossible
to deliver yourself.” For about three or four days, my soul was thus
distressed, especially at some turns, when 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. I dared not see that important truth, that I was _dead
in trespasses and sins_. But when I had thrust away these views of
myself at any time, I was distressed to have the same discoveries 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 powerful with regard to the present time, that it was the best
time, and probably the only time, that I dared not to put it off. Yet
my soul shrank away from it; I could see no safety in throwing myself
into the hands of God, and that I could lay no claim to any thing
better than damnation.
*But after a considerable time spent in such distresses, one morning,
while I was walking in a solitary place, as usual, I at once saw that
all my contrivances to procure salvation for myself, were utterly _in
vain_: I was brought quite to a stand as finding myself totally _lost_.
I had thought many times, that the difficulties were very great; but
now I saw, that it was for ever impossible for me to do any thing
towards delivering myself. I then blamed myself, that I had not done
more, 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 something eased of that distress, which I felt, while struggling
against a sight of myself. I had the greatest certainty that my state
was forever miserable, for all that I could do: and was astonished 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.
Now I saw, there was no necessary connection between my prayers and
the divine mercy: that they laid not the least obligation upon God to
bestow his grace upon me; and that there was no more goodness in them,
than there would be in my paddling with my hand in the water; and this
because they were not performed from any love to God. I saw that I
had heaped up my devotions before God, fasting, praying, &c. really
thinking I was aiming at the glory of God; whereas I never once truly
intended it.¹
¹ I doubt that.
I continued 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, and attempting to pray, but found no heart
to engage in that or any other duty. Having been thus endeavouring to
pray for near half an hour, (and by this time the sun was about half an
hour high) as I was walking in a dark thick grove, _unspeakable glory_
opened to the view of my soul: I do not mean any external brightness,
but a new inward apprehension or view that I had of God, such as I
never had before. I stood still and admired! I had never 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; and 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, so that at _first_, I scarce reflected
there was such a creature as myself.
♦ “rerejoiced” replaced with “rejoiced”
Thus God, brought me to a hearty disposition to _exalt him_, and to aim
at his glory, as King of the universe.
I continued in this state till near dark, without any sensible
abatement; and then began to think what I had seen; and was sweetly
composed 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 and excellency, that I wondered I should ever think of any
other way of salvation; was amazed, that I had not dropped my own
contrivances, and complied with this 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 the
whole world did not see and comply with this way of salvation, entirely
by the _merits of Christ_.
The sweet relish of what I then felt, continued with me for several
days, in a greater or less degree; I could not but sweetly rejoice
in God, lying down or rising up. The next Lord’s day I felt something
of the same kind, though not so powerful. But not long after, was
again under great distress; yet not of the same kind with my distress
under convictions. I was afraid and ashamed to come before God; was
exceedingly pressed with a sense of guilt: but it was not long before
I felt true repentance and joy in God.
In the beginning of September I went to college¹, and entered there;
but with some degree of reluctance, fearing lest I should not be able
to lead a life of strict religion, in the midst of so many temptations.
――――After this, before, I went to tarry at college, it pleased God
to visit my soul with clearer manifestations of himself in prayer and
self-examination; and the Lord so shined into my heart, that I enjoyed
full assurance of his favour; and my soul was unspeakably refreshed. 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.
¹ Yale college, in New-haven.
♦ “religon” replaced with “religion”
In January 1739‒40, the measles spread much in college; and I having
taken the distemper, went home to Haddam. For some days before I was
taken sick, my soul mourned the absence of the Comforter: it seemed to
me, all comfort was gone; I cried to God, yet found no relief. But a
night or two before I was taken ill, while I was walking alone, engaged
in meditation and prayer, I enjoyed a sweet, refreshing visit from
above, so that my soul was raised far above the fears of death; O how
much more refreshing this one season was than all the pleasures earth
can afford! After a day or two I was taken with the measles, and almost
despaired of life; but had no distressing fears of death. However,
I soon recovered: yet by reason of hard studies, I had little time
for spiritual duties; 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 advantage for retirement and enjoyed more comfort: indeed
my ambition in my studies greatly wronged the vigour of my spiritual
life: yet “in the multitude of my thoughts within me, God’s comforts
delighted my soul.”
One day in particular, (June 1740) I walked in the fields alone, and
found such unspeakable sweetness in God, that I thought, if I must
continue still 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.
In August following, I became so disordered, by too close application
to my studies, that I was advised to go home, and disengage my mind
from study, for I began to spit blood. I took advice, but being brought
very low, I looked death in the face more stedfastly. The Lord was
pleased to give me a sweet relish of divine things, and my soul took
delight in the blessed God.
*Saturday, October 18. In my morning devotions, my soul was exceedingly
melted for, and bitterly mourned over, my exceeding _sinfulness_ and
_vileness_. I never before felt so deep a sense of the odious nature
of sin. My soul was unusually carried forth in love to God, and had a
lively sense of God’s love to me. And this love and hope, cast out fear.
*October 19. In the morning I felt my soul _hungering and thirsting
after righteousness_. In the forenoon, while I was looking on the
sacramental elements, and thinking that Jesus Christ would soon be “set
forth crucified before me,” my soul was filled with light and love, so
that I was almost in an ecstasy; my body was so weak, I could scarcely
stand. I felt at the same time an exceeding tenderness and most fervent
love towards all mankind; so that my soul and all the powers of it
seemed, as it were, to melt into softness and sweetness. This love and
joy cast out fear; and my soul longed for perfect grace and glory.
*Tuesday, October 21. I had likewise experience of the goodness of
God in “shedding abroad his love in my heart,” and all the remaining
part of the week, my soul was 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 me the year past, I could not but be grieved, and
I thought I had much rather have died; but before I went, I enjoyed
several other sweet and precious seasons of communion with God.
I returned to college about November 6, and through the goodness of God,
felt the power of religion almost daily.
November 28. I enjoyed precious discoveries of God, and was unspeakably
refreshed with that passage, Hebrews xii. 22, 23, 24, so that my soul
longed to wing away for the paradise of God; I longed to be conformed
to God in all things.
Tuesday, December 9. 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.――O! _one hour with God_ infinitely
exceeds all the pleasures of this lower world.
Towards the latter end of January, 1740‒41, I grew more _cold_ and
_dull_ in matters of 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 latter 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 through the land, which is fresh in every one’s memory.
This awakening was for a time very great and general at New-Haven; and
the college had no small share in it: the students in general became
serious, many of them remarkably so, and much engaged in the concerns
of their eternal salvation.
It could not be otherwise than that one whose heart had been so drawn
to God, should be mightily animated, at the sight of such an alteration
in the college, the town, and land; of mens reforming their lives, and
turning from profaneness and immorality, to seriousness and concern
for their salvation, and of religion’s reviving and flourishing almost
every where. But as an intemperate zeal, soon mingled itself with that
revival of religion: so Mr. Brainerd had the unhappiness to have a
tincture of it. One instance of which it is necessary should be related.
In the time of the awakening at college, several students associated
themselves, who were wont freely to open themselves one to another: Mr.
Brainerd was one of this company. And it once happened, that he and two
or three more of these his intimate friends were in the hall together,
after Mr. Whittelsey, one of the tutors, had been to prayer there
with the scholars; no other person now remaining in the hall, but Mr.
Brainerd and these his companions. Mr. Whittelsey having been unusually
pathetical in his prayer, one of Brainerd’s friends asked him what he
thought of Mr. Whittelsey; he made answer, “He has no more grace than
this chair.” One happening at that time to be near the hall over-heard
those words, though he knew not who the person was, which was thus
censured. He informed a woman who went and informed the rector. He sent
for the man and examined him; and he told the rector the words that he
heard Brainerd utter, and informed him who were in the room with him at
that time. Upon which the rector sent for them: they were very backward
to inform against their friend, of what they looked upon as private
conversation, yet the rector compelled them to declare what he said,
and of whom he said it.――Brainerd thought, that what he said in private,
was injuriously extorted from his friends, and that it was injuriously
required of him to make a public confession, before the whole college,
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, was expelled the college.
His expulsion was in the winter _anno_ 1741‒2, while he was in his
third year in college.]