CHAPTER XV.
Begins Preaching at Beech Grove. Debates with Elder Hiner. Amusing Incident. Holds many Meetings. Debates with Elder Frogge. Debates again with Elder Hiner. Repudiates Miller's Book. Sick Again. Holds more Meetings.
In 1874 I engaged to preach once a month for the Beech Grove Church.
Beginning January 20th, at a Methodist church near Beech Grove, I held a debate with Elder Robert Hiner. The debate continued eight days. It was largely attended, though the roads and weather were bad. The feeling throughout the debate was good, but hardly so much so as at the one held at Mt. Byrd with Elder Fitch. A very amusing thing occurred. Mr. Hiner brought all of his books, and, coming through Bedford, he got all of Mr. Young's, the preacher at that place. They made a perfect wagon load. He obtained a long table, like a carpenter's bench, and stacked them up on it. I soon discovered that it was all for a show, and the question was how to most successfully burlesque it. I first thought of sending to Bedford and getting a large wagon-load of Patent Office Reports and the like, and stacking them up on my table. But in my room I discovered a little toy-book, about an inch long, called "Orphan Willie." This I took to church in my vest pocket, with a few leaves carefully turned down. After alluding to his "silent artillery," as I had done before, I drew out "Orphan Willie," and planted it on the pulpit in position to effectually blow up his entire battery, with the assurance that that was going to be done. I had laughed over the idea till I thought I could do it without laughing. But in this I failed; and the whole audience, Methodist preachers and all, got into such a laugh that I lost half my speech. But the books were put out of sight, and thus ended the scarecrow business.
During the debate Mr. Hiner expressed the opinion that I would yet come back to the Methodist church. I told him he might as well talk of a full-grown rooster, spurs and all, going back into the shell that hatched it. For a long time this gave me the sobriquet of "Old Chicken." Some brethren use it even now.
While on the design of baptism, Mr. Hiner remarked that if he believed baptism was for the remission of sins, he would live on a creek or river and be baptized every time he sinned. I gave it as my opinion that in that case he would find it a very difficult matter to keep any dry clothes!
During this year I held meetings at Louisville, Crittenden, Cove Hill, Burksville and Glasgow, with varied success.
In 1875 I held meetings at Glasgow, Carrollton, Campbellsville, Burksville, Bedford, Hodgenville and Columbia.
In July of this year I debated twelve days, at Burksville, with Presiding Elder Frogge. He was the great champion of Methodism in Southern Kentucky. He had had a great many debates, and, while he was very ready and glib in his line of debating, I soon discovered that his scholarship and reading were both very limited, exceedingly so; and I intentionally widened the range of controversy more than was my wont, to see what he would do—and he was completely lost. His forte in debating is wit and ridicule, by which he gets his opponents angry and confused. He tried this hard for three days, till he rendered himself offensive to all. It was rumored that his brethren then held a council and told him that this must be stopped; that he must debate the questions on their merits or quit; that he was bringing the cause into disrepute. The county paper, edited by a scholarly Episcopalian, was very severe in its criticism of his conduct. This caused much excitement among the Methodists. When he had to quit his efforts to get me excited, he was no longer himself. This debate was held at the request of the Baptists. Mr. Frogge and a Baptist preacher had debated near there the fall before, and, the Baptist having failed, had to give up the discussion. Mr. Frogge then left a broad and boastful challenge for any immersionist. The Baptists were very sore over it, and when I went there in the winter to hold a meeting they requested me to accept his challenge. I referred them to the brethren, and with their concurrence I entered upon the discussion.
In November I held another debate with Mr. Hiner, this time at Bedford, Ky. It continued eight days. This created the most intense excitement I ever saw in a meeting-house. At the two previous debates in the county I repudiated C. W. Miller's book (Points of Controversy) as authority. It is the book that Dr. Ditzler exposed. Our opponents said I would not dare to do that where Miller was. They had him at this debate. Mr. Hiner read from it a passage purporting to be from Moses Stuart. I asked him what he was reading from. He said, "'Points of Controversy,' and you challenge it if you dare." I then asked for the page in Stuart's book where the language occurred. He refused to give it. I had Stuart, and the inference was that he didn't want the comparison made. When I got up I referred to what had passed about the quotation, saying I was willing to take Stuart for it if he had given me the page, but as for "Points of Controversy," I could take nothing on its authority, for I repudiated the book and its author as authority in anything. This provoked a personal wrangle with Miller, who was close to me, after the debate—for the day was over. The excitement was intense as we passed and repassed our compliments. Finally the house refused to hear Mr. M. Even his own brethren rose as one man and went out of the house. This so infuriated him that he left the place.
January 1, 1876, I went on theApostolic Timeswith I. B. Grubbs and S. A. Kelley. I had been writing for it every two weeks, by contract, for several years. From this time I devoted special attention to it every week, and, with the exception of a few months from the sale of theTimesto Dr. Hopson and Cozine till the establishing of theGuide, I have been constantly engaged in editorial work.
About the middle of January I was taken down with intercostal rheumatism and spinal trouble, and was very low for several months. Very little hope was entertained of my recovery. After the intense suffering was over, my system was so racked that convalescence was slow. The doctors agreed that it was due to nervous exhaustion produced by overwork. For years I had known nothing practically of mental rest, and the year preceding was unusually severe on me, in my feeble state of health. When I held the twelve days' debate at Burksville the summer before, I went from my bed to the house and from the house to my bed. I was hardly any better in the one held a few weeks before. These labors, with those given to my home church of over three hundred members, together with holding seven protracted meetings, and writing for theTimes, all the while in feeble health, brought me down very low.
I wish here to emphasize the fact that I have never gone out of my way to either seek or shun a religious debate. I repeat this statement here, lest some might think otherwise from the fact that I have held so many.
After getting up again, I held meetings at Antioch, in Shelby county, Glasgow, Burksville, South Elkhorn, and at some other points. This has always been congenial employment for me.
CHAPTER XVI.
Continues to Evangelize. Dr. Cook's Prescription. Incident at Glendale. Peculiar Feature in the Meeting at Madisonville. The Fractious Preacher at Sonora. Closes his Evangelistic Labors. Establishes theOld Path Guide. The Bruner Debate.
In 1877 I spent much time evangelizing, being called to hold protracted meetings at many important places. I accepted work at seven of these, and my labors were fruitful in the conversion of sinners and in building up the saints in their most holy faith; but I had to be away from home a great deal, and my exposure in all kinds of weather, and the wear and tear of constant preaching, increased my lung disease.
While preaching at Cynthiana my spinal trouble returned, causing me to close abruptly, and I could preach no more till July. On my return from Cynthiana, some friends in Cincinnati induced me to visit a Dr. Cook (I think that is the name). He was celebrated for his skill in such afflictions. He was a corpulent, jolly old gentleman, full of humor. When I was introduced, he looked at me for a moment without coming near, and said: "Well, sir, you don't laugh enough. You take too serious a view of life. Why, sir, at least two inches of your spinal marrow is inflamed, produced by nervous exhaustion, the result of overwork and no mental recreation. I tell you, sir, all the medicine in the world will do you no good till you quit that and cultivate laziness. You must take a more cheerful view of life. And you must learn to laugh, not giggle a little, but laugh away down to the bottom of the abdomen. Then you will get well. I used to be a little, scrawny, sallow, nervous, overworked thing like you are, but I saw it was going to kill me, and I quit it and went to laughing, and now see what I am?" And this was all the prescription he gave me. There is, doubtless, a good deal of philosophy in it.
At Glendale a rather singular circumstance occurred. The first night of the meeting, I observed a very intelligent looking lady in the audience, and she was intensely interested. When we got back to the place where I was stopping, I asked the sister who this lady was. She gave her name, stating that she was the pride of the Methodist Church in that country; that her talk at the love-feast a few weeks before had been the topic of conversation ever since. I remarked that she would not be a Methodist when that meeting was over. But they would not listen to the idea that she would ever be anything but a Methodist. She was present the second and third nights, and manifested the same intense interest. The next morning early, she sent to ascertain if she could have a private interview. When she came, she made her business known at once. She wanted to learn if I would immerse her and let her remain in the M. E. Church. Without answering her question, I asked her what she wanted to be immersed for. She said she had become convinced that she had never obeyed the gospel, and she wanted to be immersed because it was the Saviour's will, and her sprinkling was not authorized. "Well," said I, "why do you want to correct your life in some things according to the divine authority, and not in others?" She said she wanted to correct it in all respects where it was contrary to divine authority. I then told her that there were a number of things in the Methodist Church for which there was no more authority than there is for infant baptism. She inquired what, and when I told her, she said, "That will do," and right away I immersed her. She had been brought up a Romanist, and while we were gone to the baptizing her sister burnt her Bible. No special persecution followed her change to the Methodists, but it was otherwise when she united with us. Her relatives, so far as known to me, have never become reconciled.
The meeting at Madisonville, O., eighteen miles from Cincinnati, also had a peculiar feature which I think worthy of mention. It was the first preaching by our brethren ever heard in the place, and most of those who made the confession had never before heard it made. The first person called upon to make it answered aloud and distinctly: "Yes, sir; I believe with my whole heart that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God." All who followed answered in the same way. I wish it could always be so.
In 1878 calls upon me to conduct meetings were multiplied, but I could comply only with those from Vevay, Ind., Sonora, Ky., Dover, White's Run, Columbia, Burksville, Glendale, Oakland and Owenton.
At Sonora, a Methodist preacher attended a few times, and he was remarkably fractious. Several times he interrupted me. One night, in preaching on the "Plan of Salvation," commenting on the case of the jailer, I remarked that the fact that the apostles sometimes baptized households, was no evidence that they baptized infants, since there are many households without infants. He spoke up very much excited, saying, "May I ask you a question?" I told him yes. "Well, now," he says, "suppose we take a common sense view of that matter. Suppose you were to come to town, and start out to baptizing households, and you were to go to Bro. Creel's house and mine, wouldn't you have to baptize infants?" (Bro. Creel had five little fellows, and he seven.) I answered, "Yes, Bro. Campbell, I admit that whenever you go to a preacher's house, you are very apt to find them." The whole house laughed outright, and they never ceased laughing at that preacher till he left the circuit.
These meetings were all successful in the way of additions, except that at Vevay. But I have never kept an account of my additions, and remember the number at only a few meetings.
This year my regular evangelistic work closed on account of editing theGuideand preaching half the time at Portland Avenue Church, in Louisville.
In January, 1879, I established theOld Path Guide, in Louisville. I was owner, proprietor, editor, bookkeeper, treasurer, mailing clerk, general agent, and special "boss." This required all my time, except what I had necessarily to give to preaching on the Lord's day and the preparation therefor. TheGuidewas a success, financially, from the beginning. I put money in bank the first three months of each year to pay every dollar of expense to the end. The net profits the first year were over $600, and this increased each year for the three years that I managed it all myself. The third year would have netted $1,000, but in the midst of it I made the change, transferring one-half of it to Cline, Marrs & Co., and giving them control of its business management. This was the beginning of financial embarrassment. The change was demanded by my failing health, and I could no longer do everything, as I had been doing from the first.
That year I engaged to preach half my time for the Portland Avenue Church. In order to serve the Glendale church, which is fifty miles on the Louisville & Nashville road, the Mt. Byrd church released me one Sunday in the month. During the year the Portland Avenue Church increased 120 per cent.
In February, 1879, I held a meeting for the Campbell St. church, Louisville. The meeting proved to be quite beneficial to the congregation, in many respects. I boarded in the city during the winter, and moved my family down in April.
The church at Glendale had a partnership house—a very common thing in all Southwestern Kentucky. This prevented their meeting regularly on the Lord's day, and also prevented a Sunday-school, as the house was occupied more than half the time by others. Knowing that I could accomplish no substantial and enduring good while this state of things lasted, I made it a condition of preaching for them that they build a new house. This they did. The house is a neat frame, well finished inside and out, and large enough for all ordinary use. It was promptly built and paid for.
In November I held a debate there—the first use made of the new house—with I. W. Bruner, a Baptist preacher. The Baptist church there and ours arranged for a debate, on certain specified propositions, and each had the privilege of selecting its representative. Consequently I had nothing to do with getting up the debate or arranging for it. I never challenged a man for debate in my life, and never held one except by special invitation. And I have declined more debates than I ever held. While I was peculiarly fond of it, I never debated simply for the sake of debating; hence, if the circumstances were not favorable for good results, I always declined. This debate with Mr. Bruner was, I think, the poorest one I ever held, and I lost all interest in it before it was half over.
CHAPTER XVII.
Visits Midway. Attends the Missouri State Convention. Reflections. Annual Sermons. Last Protracted Meeting. Kindness of Mt. Byrd, Glendale and Smithfield Churches. Gives up Office Work. Goes to Eureka, Ill. Country Home. Takes Cold at the Lexington Convention. Goes to Florida.
In October, 1879, I visited Midway, and though I had virtually closed my evangelistic labors when I began theGuide, I could not resist the desire to hold a meeting there. It is the seat of our Female Orphan School, one of our grandest enterprises. Bro. Shouse was then preaching for the church and Bro. Lucy was president of the school. Their companionship was highly enjoyable. What a feast to the soul is the companionship of wise, godly men! It has for me the highest happiness I expect to know this side of heaven. And will it not be a very prominent factor of that which constitutes heaven? Any place in the universe of God where my brethren and the Saviour are will be heaven enough for me.
In 1880 I continued at the Avenue Church, Louisville, Mt. Byrd and Glendale. The State Board of the Missouri Christian Missionary Society invited me to deliver an address before the State Convention, held that year at Moberly. In order to justify me in a visit to the State, they arranged several meetings for me—one in connection with the convention of Audrain county, at a country church near Mexico, called Sunrise; one at New London, and one at Slater. These meetings were all enjoyable and profitable; but the one in Audrain county was only for a few days, and resulted in but few additions.
The address at Moberly was on "Our Strength and Our Weakness." The convention was largely attended, and it was a great pleasure to meet so many brethren known only by name, and loved for their work's sake, and to renew the acquaintance of others known before.
The addresses of Haley, Procter, Jones and others were very able. That of Jones was speculative, and the basic principle of it, in my opinion, erroneous. Several of those Missouri preachers have done much harm by preaching a false philosophy instead of the gospel of Christ. Bro. Procter, whom we all allow to be one of our best men and ablest preachers, went from this convention to California and held several meetings. Within a few months I had several applications to come out there to undo some of his work, and I should have been glad to comply had my other duties permitted.
In 1881 I resigned at the Avenue Church, as they needed more pastoral labor than my other duties would allow me to perform. I gave half my time to Mt. Byrd, one-fourth to Glendale, and one-fourth to my old home church—Pleasant Hill, in Oldham county. It was a pleasure to visit these old friends of my youth once a month. Old memories were revived, and the past, in a sense, lived over again. Besides, several members of the families related to my wife and to myself were enabled to attend. To preach to them, after years of separation, was a great pleasure. Mt. Byrd moved on in the even tenor of its way, in a prosperous condition.
In August of this year, and also the year previous, I preached the annual sermon at the Clark county, Ind., Coöperation Meeting. The county contains sixteen or eighteen churches, including those of Jeffersonville and New Albany, and for more than forty years they have had an annual county meeting. Representatives from all the churches attend, as a rule, and the condition, etc., of each church is given. It brings together a great congregation, and the day meetings are held in the woods.
In September of this year theGuidewas changed to a weekly. While the monthly magazine was the most desirable for preservation, it was thought that a weekly would best serve the cause of Christ, and peculiar circumstances at that time seemed to demand it.
In November I went to Poplar Plains and held the last protracted meeting of my life. It was a pleasant one, and attended with some good results.
In 1882 I preached at Mt. Byrd, Glendale and Smithfield, that is, I engaged to preach for these churches, but my health was such that I preached but little to any. At my first visit to Smithfield, the first Lord's day in the year, I was taken sick, and I never visited them once when I was not sick. I was never able to so preach as to do them or myself justice. While this was equally so at the other churches, I did not regret it so much, since I had been laboring for them a long time. The work at Smithfield was virtually a failure, and early in the fall I had to give it up entirely. Yet they paid me for the whole year, and made me a present of about $150 besides. They are a noble band of brethren, and one of the most liberal I ever knew.
The church at Glendale also paid for the entire year, though I lost much time and resigned in October. It also made me a generous present in addition.
Speaking of their generosity, reminds me that the Mt. Byrd Church continued my salary three or four years when I was able to do little or nothing in return. In 1876 I lost most of the year through spinal and rheumatic affections; I did very little in 1882; I was in the church but once in 1883, and in 1884 I attempted to talk only a few times, yet all these years my salary continued. When theGuidewas sold to the present Guide Printing and Publishing Company, which relieved me of financial embarrassments which the failure of C. C. Cline & Co. had produced, I refused to longer accept support from the church.
In April, 1882, I was compelled, on account of failing health, to give up the office work of theGuide. I had been under a physician all the year, and grew constantly worse. I allowed the office work to make a heavier draft on me than some men do. I always knew every paragraph that was going into the paper, and where and how it would appear. I stood by the foreman and noticed everything that went in—when it went in, what was put in and what was left out—till the forms were locked up. I have never been able to get any one else to do it. But that is my idea of editing a paper. This thing of giving printers a mass of matter and telling them to put it in, leaving them to add or diminish, and put in where and what they please, is simply a burlesque on the business; and yet this is the way it is largely done. I have had no little annoyance over just that thing. Had I been willing to edit in that way I could have continued, but I would not consent to follow such a course.
In May I went to Eureka College, to preach the baccalaureate sermon. I arranged to make the trip as easy as possible, on account of my feebleness, by stopping over at Indianapolis for the night, in both going and returning. The trip was every way pleasant, and the associations there very agreeable. I hoped it would be a benefit to me in the way of recreation, but on reaching home I was taken down with typho-malarial fever. I was quite low for several weeks. I got up with a trouble in my throat, causing a constant coughing and hacking, which has increased without intermission to the present time.
In September, realizing that my health was permanently broken down, we went back to our country home. I was satisfied that if I should even continue to edit theGuide, I would not be able to assume the responsibilities of the office, and that the best place for me, under the circumstances, was my country home. After going back to the country I rallied considerably, and attended the General Convention, at Lexington, about the 20th of October. Here I took life memberships in both the General and Foreign Societies for the Mt. Byrd Church. This was the first church taking membership in those societies, so far as I am informed. It has since become quite common. Last year (1884) I succeeded in getting their constitutions so amended as to provide for this.
I took cold at the convention, and relapsed. My physicians were very fearful of tubercular trouble, and advised me to go to Florida for the winter. We went the first of December, not knowing whither we went, but it seems that the hand of Providence guided us. We knew not where to turn, but concluded to try DeLand, where we had some acquaintances, and there look out for accommodations. In a few days after reaching DeLand old Bro. Anderson, who lived two miles in the country, heard we were there and came in for us. He had formerly seen a copy of theGuideand subscribed for it. This good man rented for us a convenient house near him, paid the rent, set us up, and would not allow me to pay for anything we needed while there if he knew it and could prevent it. His wife was as kind as he, and did all in her power to make our stay in "The Land of Flowers" comfortable and inexpensive.
The Great Teacher has said, in a well-known passage, "It is more blessed to give than to receive." What, then, must not have been the blessedness of this pious couple in thus caring for a poor broken-down invalid and his family, whom Providence had guided to their hospitable home? May God reward them richly for their kindness.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Organizes a Church at DeLand. Health Improves. Relapses. Starts Home. Resignation. Sells His Interest in theGuide. Begins Writing again. Attends Two Conventions. Goes to Texas. At Home Again. Works On.
While at DeLand we gathered up the few scattered Disciples in and around the town, and organized them into a church. I felt quite confident, from the character of the material, that the enterprise would be a success. It has thus far proved to be so; they have not failed to keep up their weekly meetings to break the loaf and edify one another after the apostolic model. They now have a nice house, and have employed a preacher and given him a home among them. This is just what all churches should aim to do; all may not be able, but they should aim to accomplish it. The church is in a prosperous condition. I was able to talk to them occasionally while there.
The climate of Florida agreed with me. My cough left me in a few weeks, my appetite became good, and I got heavier than I ever was before. I went there weighing 130 pounds, and increased to 148. In good health, my usual weight was 144 pounds, and it had been many years since I weighed that. I should have come home in this improved condition but for my own imprudence. I don't blame the country, Providence, nor anything else but myself. I was passionately fond of hunting, as I have ever been. I hunted a great deal, and frequently got overheated, and took cold; sometimes got my feet wet when in the woods. Thus I had several backsets. But still I was in that condition when the time came to return home. The day before we were to start, I concluded I must have one more hunt. It had rained the night before; the sand was damp; it was cloudy, quite warm, and a strong south wind was blowing. I would get warm in walking (the sand there is very slavish to walk in), and would sit down and let the wind cool me off. I should have had more discretion; but sometimes people act with very little sense about such things. Before I reached the house I felt acute inflammation of the mucus membrane, to the bottom of my lungs. In three hours fever set in, and I was completely prostrated. I remained there about three weeks, and the doctors urged my return as the only chance of recovery. They considered that very hazardous, on account of exposure to cold; but to stay there was less hopeful. I was taken to the boat, carried on board by two men, then carried off at Jacksonville to a hack, taken to a hotel, thence to the train. I secured a good berth in a sleeper, and got through without the least trouble. I improved, every mile of the way; but as soon as I got home I went down again, and was extremely low for some time.
My dread of dying in Florida and having my wife return with my body, was such that I concentrated all my prayers to that one point. I prayed the Lord to enable me to get home, that I might die in the midst of my family. I felt and prayed that if He would enable me to reach home, He could have the rest all His own way, without any further petition. He enabled me to rally, gave a week of the best weather of the whole season, brought me home under the most favorable circumstances, and I never afterwards felt free to ask Him to restore me to health, and have never done it. It may be wrong, but I promised to let Him have the rest all His own way, and my prayers have ever since conformed to that idea.
I never could have believed, till I experienced it, that one could become so indifferent as to whether he lived or died, I saw many days, after my return from Florida, when it was a matter of perfect indifference to me; previous anxiety to get home, and the resolution to leave all the rest to the Lord, had no doubt much to do with it. I observed this, however: that as hope revived, a desire to live would arise in proportion. When there was little or no prospect, there was little or no concern.
When I was at my worst, I decided, taking my past and present condition into consideration, the medicine I was taking, the attention received, etc., that if I did not take a turn for the better by a certain day, then in three days the case would be entirely hopeless. In the afternoon of that day the change came. That evening I took some nourishment—the first for fourteen days.
After I sufficiently recovered to be able to do anything, I was anxious to get my business arranged, with a view to death. I never expected to be able to write another editorial, and I was concerned about making some arrangement by which to get rid of theGuideand its responsibility. I was not pleased with its business management, and did not want to leave it as the property of my family, not knowing what trouble it might give nor what expense it might involve them in. And without a change in management, I knew it could never be of any profit. I wrote for Bro. Srygley to come, and I sold him my remaining half-interest. My purpose was to resign, and thus have no further connection with it. But he would not buy unless I would agree to let my name remain, with a promise to resume the responsibility of chief editor if I should ever get able; and the firm would consent to the sale only upon these conditions. So I had to sell upon those conditions, or not sell at all.
The latter part of September the company urged me to begin to write again, if it were at all possible, even if it were only a few paragraphs each week. They said the impression everywhere entertained that I would not recover, was injuring the paper very much. The people were losing interest in it. They insisted that I should counteract that feeling as much as possible. Under this pressure, though confined to my bed and suffering every hour, I began writing, the first of October, and never after missed a week. That winter I stayed at home, and was not out of my room for eight months. The last of August I started to Midway, to see Dr. Lucy. I got as far as Louisville, and could get no further. We dispatched for the Doctor, and he came down. After resting a few days I got home, the last of August, and I was not out of the door again till the last of April. During that winter I did a large amount of writing, besides my weekly work on theGuide.
June 10 I went to Louisville to attend the International Sunday-school Convention, but was able to get out only a few times. I attended the State meeting at Paris, but was able to take no part. I greatly enjoyed meeting with the brethren, and hearing them concerning the things of the kingdom of God. These convocations are seasons of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.
The first of October we went to Mason, in South-west Texas, to spend the winter. Here, as at De Land, it looked as if the hand of Providence guided us. We knew no one there, but we found some of the dearest and best friends of our lives. They had been taking theGuide, and, in competition with several other places that wanted us, made such a liberal offer that our trip cost us nothing. They seemed to anticipate all our wants, and find great pleasure in supplying them. The Lord has always blessed me with many good friends—more than I deserved. I have felt, for a number of years, that I was greatly overestimated, and it has been a source of no little humiliation. I should have quit editorial work several years ago, and lived in obscurity here at my retired home, if I could have done so. I appreciate the good opinion of my brethren, to the extent that I think it is merited; but to realize that I am not what I am thought by some to be, is a great mortification.
I am now at home enjoying the company of my family, the quiet of my home, with every want anticipated and supplied by a devoted wife and children, pleasantly, though in much feebleness, doing my work on theGuide, and putting in my spare time in other writing. I find my greatest pleasure in being about my Father's business. I must be employed. I expect to thus work on till the Master says, "It is enough."
Mt. Byrd, Ky., June 13, 1885.
CHAPTER XIX.
Reflections on his Fiftieth Birthday. What a Wonderful Being is Man! Governed, not by Instinct, but by Reason. Man Lives by Deeds, not Years. How to Grow Old. Half of Life Spent in Satan's Service. Renewed Consecration. Last Three Birthdays. His Trust in God.
The seventh day of March has come again. Fifty times has come this anniversary of my natal day! Half a hundred years old to-day! What a period through which to carry the burdens and responsibilities of life! (What a time for which to give account to God for wasted moments and opportunities lost!) What a period to be devoted to building a character for the skies! What a period of time devoted to the issues of eternity!
What a wonderful being is man! Time is but his cradle, from which he walks forth into a world where life is parallel with the ages of God. An intelligent, expansive being that will never cease to be—what a thought! When the sun grows gray with age, his eye is dimmed, and darkness reigns, man will still be drinking in the light of heaven from the morning star of eternity. The century-living crow doubles this period of man's probation, with life as it began. She builds her nest the last year, as she did the first, with no improvement sought. She rears her young the hundredth time as she did the first, by the long experience none the wiser. This is her nature. God made her thus. Instinct is wonderful, but it never improves. It grows not wiser with age nor the ages. It nothing from experience learns. The sparrow builds her nest, and the beaver his dam, just as they did in the years before the flood. The little quails an hour from the shell, will hide at the danger-signal of the mother bird, when they never saw a hawk, nor heard of one's existence. How different this from man! More helpless than the stupid beast, and more senseless than the creeping worm, he starts to make the pilgrimage of life. But what a change does time produce! The child more helpless than the humming insect of an hour, becomes the monarch of the world. He bridles the lightning in its home above the mountain peaks, and makes it do his bidding. The terror of the ages past, becomes his willing servant. He harnesses the steam, that for ages spent its power in the open air, and with it moves the world. He sends his whisperings through old ocean's bed, where the great leviathan sports, as if he talked to one across the room. He leaps aloft as if on steady wing, till his look is downward where the lightnings play and the thunderbolt leaps to its deadly mission. Wonderful development! The heavens declare the glory of God, and the earth proclaims the dominion of man. He was made a little lower than the angels, and crowned with majesty. Age counts with man, and years bring knowledge, but not unfailing wisdom. Did man grow wise with age, as a sure result, age should be an unfailing blessing sought. But imbecility it often brings and childish discontent. These are the blighted sheaves of evil sowing in the spring and summer days of life. With right ideas of life, men grow wiser and better, as they older grow in the service of their God. Life is not measured simply by the flight of time. Men live more now than they did before the flood. Intenser now islife. Into a few decades, is now crowded the patriarch's experience of nearly a thousand years. How to grow old, is a problem not to be despised. It should not be left to solve itself. To grow old gracefully, is to make a picture on which the world delights to look. But, alas! how sadly blurred is the picture by many made! It is sad to see one's religion sour with age. While young and strong the loved disciple on the bosom of the Master leaned. Then when age had dimmed his eagle eye, and time had stolen his elastic step, he had the same love for his children in the faith. His was a sweet old age, the outgrowth of a life of faith and love. He grew old gracefully. When brought, as was his wont, and before his congregation set, his last sermons were mainly the touching, tender words, "My little children, love one another." O, that his mantle could on many of us fall! But oft, alas! we see grow cross, self-willed and sour the shepherd of the flock. This, too, when age should give his words both weight and wisdom. Lord, give me poverty and affliction, if it be thy will, but save me, I pray, from this sad end. Far better that one die young, than grow old against the grain. "Is life worth living?" the sages ask. That depends on how one lives it. Lived aright, it is worth living, and many such worlds as this beside. Otherwise 'tis not. Of right living, the more the better; of wrong, the less. The life lived faithfully to God, can never be too long; its opposite, too short.
Of the half-century, this day gone, one claim I can safely make—it was not spent in idleness. The years to Satan's service given, were well to his account put in; and those devoted to a better cause, I have tried to give as faithfully to Him to whom they all belonged. For the years in Satan's service spent, like Saul of Tarsus, I conscientious ignorance plead. O'er eyes unused to heaven's light, sectarianism's vail was thick. But no sooner was known the way of life, than in its path I tried to walk; and in it have I tried to keep, till this good day. Thus equally divided has the time been spent. Except the years of childish innocence, twenty-five were in the service spent of him who for this life pays the soul in spurious coin, and leaves it bankrupt in the life beyond; while an equal number, praise the Lord, have a better Master claimed. For the rest of life, be it long or short, the long side will the right side be, while hitherto it otherwise has been. The periods of service have not before been equally divided, nor will they be again. But the sides have changed proportions, praise the Lord! Should not this turning-point in life an epoch make? A half century, and a half divided life, in one! Surely I shall not look upon its like again.
The past few birthdays I have noted as those of former years were noted not, and for reasons I need hardly state. The first that deep impression on the mind did make since apprehension was that each would be the last, was three years ago, amid the orange groves of the sunny South. The day was lovely as the Queen of May; and friends more lovely than the day, made it a time not to be forgotten. The feasting of the outer man was the lesser part of the day's enjoyment. "The feast of reason and the flow of soul" was chief. Three of us were seeking health in that sunny land. Two have found it, but not there. In a fairer land by far than this world can boast, did they find the fountain of perpetual health. Beneath the branches of the tree of life, have they also sat and plucked its leaves for the healing of the nations given. I, the feeblest of the three, and thought the nearest to the other side to be, on the shores of time am struggling still. Thus it is with man's poor guessing.
Two years ago the day was cold and bleak. It drizzled through the dreary hours, freezing as it fell. But to many loving hearts, its sleet and rain were not its gloom. On this day was laid to rest in Mother Earth the loved remains of one numbered in the health-seeking trio of the year before. What a contrast with that day one year before! The day and its events, how sadly changed! But such is life. Well do I remember on this asking, "Shall I another birthday live to see?" And well do I remember, too, the thought expressed in grave response. While, in the providence of God, it was possible, of course, the other way were all the probabilities. But this so oft before the case had been, it left a ray of hope. And that has now been more than realized. As said our sweetest poet, how truly can we say:
"God moves in a mysterious wayHis wonders to perform."
"God moves in a mysterious wayHis wonders to perform."
"God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform."
One year ago, in the balmy breezes of the "Lone Star" State, compelled was I by feebleness of frame to miss the sumptuous feast by loving hands so deftly spread. And sad, yet happy thought, those as ever ready on the poor to wait, are now in those of the Master clasped. And still I linger, and the years go by. Such is life. Deep and many are her mysteries. God knows it all, but he keeps it to himself. But what are now the prospects for the year to come? Better now, by far, than they before have been in all these dreary years of pain. Would it not be strange, if once again in providence divine I should mingle with my fellow men, and tell them, as of yore, the story of the cross? Indeed, it would; but stranger things have happened. Stranger things by providence divine have come to pass without the aid of "Warner's Safe Cure," or other disgusting humbuggery, with its offensive intrusion into the reading of decent men. The providence of God is not dependent on patent nostrums; nor is He limited in His healing power to calomel or blue mass. Prayer is oft more potent than all the noxious drugs of man's device. God has promised, when consistent with His holy will, the prayers of His believing children to hear and bless. And in numbers more by far than this poor life is worth, have these from earnest, pleading souls gone up to God. Hence to-day we rest in the cheering hope that these have not been in vain.
Should it please the Lord to give the health I need to fight again the battles of Christian life, what responsibilities will it bring! That strength must all be counted His who gave it. All those years must be wholly His, His cause to serve. The interests of His kingdom to His children left, must be strictly guarded. Conflicts with men, even those we love, will come to him who strictly guards the faith, as Jude directs. In all conflicts with fellow men, for two good graces I humbly pray—the courage of Paul and the gentleness of John.
This holy Lord's-day morning, the sun rose bright and charming as on the seventh day of March it did three years ago in the sunny land of Florida. For the first time in many weary months did I a whiff of the outside air inhale. Oh! how delicious! 'Twas like a prisoner's whiff of the air of freedom. But this was not the best. To sit again with the brethren around the table of the Lord and hear again the sweet old story that is forever new, what a feast to the hungry soul! Then the birthday feast is next to be enjoyed. Loved ones gathered at the dear old "cottage home" to celebrate the marked event with music, song and recitation.
The birthday cakes and other "dainty tricks" by loving hands prepared and sent to grace the festive board, told tales of love. One thing alone marred the pleasure of the day and checked the overflow of its cup of bliss: Two loved and loving ones were far away and disappointed in their hope of being here. These would have made the ring complete, the family circle whole. But such, again, is life. Its disappointments will forever come. We should expect them, therefore, and be content.
This is my fiftieth milestone along life's rugged road. At this half-century mark I set up a pillar, as did Jacob of old.
"Here I'll raise my Ebenezer,Hither by Thy help I've come,And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,Safely to arrive at home."
"Here I'll raise my Ebenezer,Hither by Thy help I've come,And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,Safely to arrive at home."
"Here I'll raise my Ebenezer,
Hither by Thy help I've come,
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home."
Thus far in life has a loving Father led me, and in his providential care I trust for all the rest. I place my trusting hand in His, asking to be led as He sees the way. "Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah," shall be my constant prayer. And thus, dear Father, the rest of life I leave with thee.
Dear Lord, should birthdays more be mineTo spend on earth to Thee,Thy cause shall claim them wholly ThineAs earnest work can be.And should'st Thou will the next be oneIn Thy bright home above,I gladly say, "Thy will be done,"And join Thee in Thy love.
Dear Lord, should birthdays more be mineTo spend on earth to Thee,Thy cause shall claim them wholly ThineAs earnest work can be.
Dear Lord, should birthdays more be mine
To spend on earth to Thee,
Thy cause shall claim them wholly Thine
As earnest work can be.
And should'st Thou will the next be oneIn Thy bright home above,I gladly say, "Thy will be done,"And join Thee in Thy love.
And should'st Thou will the next be one
In Thy bright home above,
I gladly say, "Thy will be done,"
And join Thee in Thy love.
Cottage Home, March 7, 1886.
CHAPTER XX.
Conclusion by the Editor. Tokens of Love from Many. Keeps Writing. Controversy with theStandard. Last Meeting with His Mother. Visited by Professors McGarvey and Graham. Commits His Writings to the Latter. Visits Eminence and Lexington. Many Brethren Come to See Him. Meeting at Mt. Byrd. Estimate of His Character. The Closing Scenes. Farewell to His Family. Dies. Funeral Services.
The foregoing autobiography closes with June 13, 1885, while the life of the author was prolonged till January 6, 1887, and it remains for the editor to record a few of the incidents transpiring in the interval; and to bring this remarkable recital to a close.
Midsummer found Bro. Allen in his "Cottage Home," at Mt. Byrd, growing weaker in body day by day, but with no very acute suffering. Everything that devoted love on the part of his family and church could suggest for his comfort was done; and there were not wanting from abroad many tokens of undying affection, as it became generally known that he was gradually but surely passing away. Many of his friends, and especially preachers, came to Mt. Byrd as to a Mecca, to find their pilgrimage repaid in the fresh inspiration received by communing with this saintly man. The company of his brethren did not weary him; on the contrary, it seemed to have a favorable effect on both his body and mind; he greatly desired the visits of his friends, and found comfort in them. Still many were deterred from going to see him for fear it might disturb the quiet which they hoped would contribute to lengthen out his days. Meanwhile he kept writing with a diligence and persistence marvelous to those who witnessed it, and incredible to others; so much so, that many at a distance could not understand how one so near the grave could continue to write so much and so well; hence the hope entertained that he might survive for years to bless the church and the world. It must be remembered that his disease never affected his mind, and that, like most persons who die of consumption, he retained the full possession of his mental faculties even unto the end. Besides, he was sustained by an indomitable will that hesitated at nothing that stood in the way of duty; added to which was an unfaltering trust in God and a joyous resignation to His will, causing him to cease praying for longer life. Propped up in an invalid chair with a convenience of his own invention, he continued his weekly editorials to theGuideas regularly as ever, and developed abilities as an editor that none suspected he possessed till the last years of his life.
It was at this time that the unfortunate controversy began between theGuideand theStandardabout our work in London, England, causing so much regret on the part of many friends of both papers. It was feared by some that this controversy would work irreparable injury to our mission enterprises, not only in England, but in other lands, for we all realized that Titans were engaged in the conflict; men, not like those of old, giants in physical strength and daring, but of intellectual power intensified by the love of God and his cause. Of course the disputants viewed the matter from different angles, and both, we must think, were equally sincere in their convictions. The present writer was not of those who thought upon the whole harm would come of this dispute, though he deeply regretted the asperity with which it was conducted. In our present imperfect state we need, I doubt not, these conflicts to remind us of our frailty, and if only we have grace to profit by them, God will turn them to our good and to His own glory. It is a source of devout thankfulness to those who knew Bro. Allen's unselfish purpose, that many who censured his course united with multitudes who approved it in paying honor to his memory, when the messenger who ends all earthly strifes called him to his final account.
In July, 1885, his aged and revered mother made him a visit, and remained some time; it was their last meeting; and now that her gifted son has gone to his reward, she waits in joyous hope for the day that shall reunite them forever.
A few weeks later it was the pleasure of the writer, in company with Prof. McGarvey, to spend two days at Mt. Byrd, in delightful fellowship with this grand man. He had been apprised of our coming, and was prepared for it. Truly, to him and to us it was a foretaste of the joys of the future world, and we left him the same resolute, confiding servant of Christ he had ever been, wholly resigned to the will of God and rejoicing in assured hope of eternal rest.
It pleased his Master to protract his life and usefulness a little longer, and so 1885 closed, and we find him still with his family, receiving many tokens of love from them and from brethren far away. Spring comes, and birds and flowers; the bright sunshine beams into his chamber, and now and then he is barely able to walk out to see and feel his Father's goodness bathing all things in quiet beauty. He repines not, knowing that "our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."
He continues to write, and with the rest the preceding chapter of "Reflections on his Fiftieth Birthday." He commits it, his diary, and other writings to me, with the request that I do with them as I think best, for now he is sure that this unequal contest with mortality can not last much longer.
Summer comes, and with it increasing weakness, but no diminution of his trust in God. He wishes to visit Eminence once more, and to see his two younger daughters graduate from the college that had helped himself in former years. He attends, and then, unable to walk without help, he comes on to Lexington, to spend commencement week among his friends and brethren; this done, he returns to his beloved Mt. Byrd, to leave it no more till he goes to stand with the redeemed on the Mount of God.
During the fall of this year hardly a week passed that several of his relatives and Christian brethren were not found at his home; and did not the limit of this chapter forbid, we would like to record their names, for in love they came to testify their admiration for him and their sympathy with his sorrowing family. For one and all he had a word of cheer, and none came away without being deeply impressed with the conviction that he had been with one of the purest and best of men—one who lived in daily communion with his Maker. His one theme of conversation was religion, and if we may judge from his increasing delight in it, to no one was death a more gentle transition from faith to sight. Narrow, indeed, to him was the bourn that divides the seen from the unseen, the temporal from the eternal, and the labors of earth from the felicities of heaven. He daily lived upon the boundary of two worlds.
In October, Bro. J. K. P. South held a meeting with the Mt. Byrd church, and, though feeble beyond measure, Bro. Allen made out to attend a few times, and even to take part in prayer and exhortation, sitting in his chair. Only twice after this was he able to be carried to the Lord's house, but on neither occasion could he take an active part in the worship.
In all the relations of life Bro. Allen was a model of all that is lovable in human character—kind, gentle, considerate of the feelings of others, even the least, and always cheerful. A refined and delicate humor pervaded his conversation, which was always chaste and instructive. There was in him a moderation that always attends reserved power, and a candor that was transparent; these qualities, united with an equipoise of intellectual and moral strength, harmony of emotions, and hatred of everything mean or unfair, made him revered by his friends, and an idol in his household. Wife, children, servants, all who came into that charmed circle, were attached to him in a love that bordered on idolatry. To draw a portraiture of this remarkable man would indeed be a pleasing task did space allow—his logical penetration, depth of feeling, strength of will, energy, industry, unwavering faith in God and goodness, and, crowning all, his fidelity to the gospel of Christ—but it is unnecessary. To us who knew him these virtues were conspicuous; by others, they may be gathered from the unvarnished story of his life as it is told in the foregoing pages. We must hasten to the closing scene.
On New Year's day, 1887, he laid down his pen to resume it again no more. He was forced to this by sheer exhaustion; his body was wasted to a skeleton, and it was clear to all that the end was near. Having suffered much for several days, but without a murmur, on the evening of Jan. 5 he requested all his family to come to his bedside, and while their hearts were breaking for grief and all eyes were blinded with tears, he spoke to them for the last time.
"My dear children," said he, "I want to say a few things to you while I can. I may not be able to do it if I put it off longer. I will soon leave you, and I know you will miss me. It is hard for you to give me up, but it is the will of God, and you must bear up as best you can. I am sure I have always had your love, and you have always obeyed me; and now I want you to always love and obey your mother. Remember, wherever you may be, that you are all of one household. Live in peace, and let no strife or discord spring up among you." Taking the hand of each of his daughters, he asked them to meet him in heaven, and then kissed them good-bye.
Laying his hand upon Frank's head, he said, "My dear son, papa has to leave you." "O papa," said the lad, "pray not to die." "We have prayed, my dear boy, but it is God's will to take me home, and He knows best. You must love your mamma and obey her; be good to your sisters. I want you to grow up and become a minister of the gospel. Try to make a better preacher than your papa has been. Be studious and industrious, and live so that you may at last meet me in heaven. May God bless you, my son, and keep you in His care. Kiss me good-bye."
Throwing one arm around his wife, he said, "My dear, my affliction has been a blessing to me in having you near me all the time. You have been everything on earth that a good wife could be. I have loved you even more in my affliction than I ever did before. I want to thank you for all your kindness to me and loving care of me. If I have ever done or said anything I should not, I want you to forgive me now. I can say on my dying bed that I have always been a true husband to you. I have made the best provision I could for you and the children, and if there should appear any mistakes they have not been of my heart." He then bade her a long and last farewell.
He then blessed his three little grandchildren and kissed them; expressed a desire to see his "dear old mother," brother and sisters once more, and spoke of some business matters a moment, then said, "This is too sacred for that."
For two or three days before this he had been able to speak only a few words at a time; but throughout this interview with his family, his voice was as strong and clear as it had ever been. After this his breathing became difficult, and he could gasp only a single word now and then. He seemed to have no wish to be occupied with this world. The weary traveler had at last reached the goal; and about nine o'clock Thursday night, January 6, 1887, his pure spirit left its frail tenement to suffer no more.
The following account of his funeral, written by his devoted friend and Christian brother, W. K. Azbill, may well close the biography of Frank Gibbs Allen: