"The first preaching that we heard was by an old gentleman of the name of Huntington. He was a Universalist, a good man, I think, but not a great preacher. He addressed the people for the greater part of one summer generally at my father's house. I do not remember to have seen anything like reform among the people. The old gentleman died in a few years, and I trust has gone to rest. Also Elders[9]Robinson Smith and A. Moulton, ofHatley, a neighboring town, favored us with their ministry. We called them Free-willers, but their preaching was life-awakening, and it was held in remembrance long after they were gone, although they saw no immediate fruits of their labors. I recollect of hearing Mr. Moulton once, the first time I think I ever saw him. His voice to me was like thunder. For several days after, it seemed as though I could hear the sound of it."
"The first preaching that we heard was by an old gentleman of the name of Huntington. He was a Universalist, a good man, I think, but not a great preacher. He addressed the people for the greater part of one summer generally at my father's house. I do not remember to have seen anything like reform among the people. The old gentleman died in a few years, and I trust has gone to rest. Also Elders[9]Robinson Smith and A. Moulton, ofHatley, a neighboring town, favored us with their ministry. We called them Free-willers, but their preaching was life-awakening, and it was held in remembrance long after they were gone, although they saw no immediate fruits of their labors. I recollect of hearing Mr. Moulton once, the first time I think I ever saw him. His voice to me was like thunder. For several days after, it seemed as though I could hear the sound of it."
This indeed is the proof of God's presence in the mission, that the minister has that to say which the sinnercannot forget, that which lingers in his way like an invisible spell. The man who has God's word is not a mere lecturer or essayist in the holy temple. He has words of divine fire to speak, an undying love to utter, a warning of eternity to hold forth. Hecommandsthe giddy and the sinful to listen to a voice which, if he repent not, will tingle in his ears even to his dying day. Smooth, elegant composition may be patiently taught, and patiently learned, but God's living word out of heaven to unfaithful man, is another thing. This word has many organs, finds its way far and near, and reaches the heart of the ardent young man whose footsteps are on the classic ground, or in the larger path of nature's wild.
"When about sixteen or seventeen," continues the journal, "I heard that a young man about my age from Vermont would preach in our vicinity. There was a great move to hear him, and I resolved to go. The house was full. He was evidently one much engaged in God's work. He looked very pale and much worn out. Mr. Moulton was with him, prayed at the beginning of the meeting, afterwhich the young man, Benjamin Putnam, came forward, and in a manner and address that were engaging, and to me peculiarly pleasing, preached a sermon from Isaiah 22:22; a text which I shall never forget. 'And the key of the house of David will I lay upon his shoulder: so he shall open, and none shall shut; and he shall shut, and none shall open.' He described Christ as the Son of God, and the power as being laid upon his shoulder; he also dwelt on what he had opened both to and for man, which none could shut, and finally spoke of the closing of the same door, which none should be able to open. I thought this discourse more glorious than anything I had ever heard. I thought him the happiest young man I ever saw. As soon as meeting was closed he came forward through the assembly and spoke to my brother, which had a solemn effect on us both. Many of his expressions I have ever remembered."The Methodist ministers next made their way into our town, and I have always thought that they came in the name and spirit of the Highest. They were humble and earnest. As my father's family seldom attended their meetings, I perhaps did not become acquainted with the first that came. Hays and Briggs were the first I heard. While listening to the farewell sermon of the former I remember to have been deeply affected, and one evening, while listening to Mr. Briggs, I felt a strong conviction of my sin, and believed that I was undone without regeneration. They first formed a small class in town. Leaving the circuit the next year, Joseph Dennet and David Blanchard were their successors, under whose ministry many of the old and the young were turned to God, whilst even children were made happy in Christ. I think that the preaching of the latter was the first that ever broughttears from my eyes. Also, in those days, we had frequent visits from the missionaries, but I do not remember that their preaching had much effect on my own mind or that of any other person."In the conflict of good and evil tendencies in the minds of young men who share largely of the passions and giddiness which characterize the period of one's youth, it is interesting to contemplate the skill with which these influences assail each other, each winning its temporary victory, and each wrestling at times with great might for the doubtful mastery. Notwithstanding these solemn emotions to good, I was quite wild and had several bad habits. In hearing Mr. H. preach the summer I was eighteen, I was much aroused to a sense of duty, and though seeing the way of my life to be death, my determinations as yet were not equal to the chain of habit that bound me. On the first of August I looked forward to the 16th, which was my birthday, as the day in which I should begin to walk in newness of life, and for several days this occupied my thoughts. But the time passed, and my resolution with it, whilst my feelings reacted more strongly than ever toward my former ways. The Spirit of God righteously strives with sinners; and many have I seen on languishing beds lamenting their early resistance to the holy influence, and that they had ever broken their promise to Him. I had a taste for reading, and spent much of my time in the perusal of novels and with vain young company. A young man by the name of Richardson was my most intimate friend. On the Sabbath and every other opportunity we were together; we spent the time mostly in reading; I thought I enjoyed happiness in his society. In our assemblies for diversion we ever had a good understanding. His friendship lasted until my conversion, when something far more glorious opened to my view. It appeared a great mystery to him, and itcaused me much sorrow to leave him, but the first lesson I learned from the cross taught me how to relinquish and how to renounce."In the autumn of 1810 we had many vain assemblies for dancing and other recreations. Never had I before gone so far in wickedness as at this time. But, in the midst of our gayety, events of Providence compelled our thoughts to serious objects, as death, through the agency of a fatal fever, spread over the town its sorrow and sadness, cutting off the old and the young indiscriminately. On the 10th of January, 1811, I commenced a journey to New Hampshire, to visit my friends, whom I had not seen since 1802. When I arrived at Stanstead, I passed several days with a cousin of mine who was engaged in teaching the art of dancing. He was an agreeable gentleman, and of great talents; but it was a grief to his friends that he had taken to this employment. I was much pleased with the instructions he gave me, as I was anxious to attain perfection in the art."With several young men I proceeded on my way to New Hampshire, and making the journey merry with rudeness and laughter, we prosecuted it till I arrived at Gilmanton. Here I found that my honored grandsire no longer occupied his place on earth. His companion, who had watched over my childhood for two years, and had made the voice of prayer familiar to my lips, still survived. Several other relatives had also gone to their long home, and though these things made little impression on my heart, owing to the state of my mind, I could not but solemnly reflect on the hand that had so long upheld me, when I visited my early home, the place of my birth, and recalled the many scenes of my childhood freshly to mind. We have in life but one childhood, and no hours of retrospect put us into such unison with nature as when we live it over in the revival of its scenes."I passed several weeks in Gilmanton, attending school a part of the time, and freely enjoyed the company of my young friends. My sister Mary, the wife of General Cogswell, occasionally rebuked me for my lightness, and though I made light of her admonitions at the time, they made much impression on my mind. But most of all I dreaded that my uncle, Mr. Smith, who had been the minister of the place for thirty years, should talk to me about religion. I was very loth to visit him at all, but I stayed with him the last night I remained in town, and to my happy disappointment escaped the drilling I had so much feared, as he did not once mention the subject. In company with my cousin, Joseph Smith, I set out the next day for home, and by evening arrived at Judge William Badger's, a cousin of mine, with whom we had an excellent visit. The next day, when passing through Meredith, we saw a young man standing in the door of a house with a multitude around him. The building appeared to be full of people, to whom he was preaching. We arrived that evening at Camptown, and though I was nearly sick and my spirits depressed by some influence I could not define, and my mind uninterested by surrounding objects, I yielded to the persuasion of my cousin to go on. Nothing was able to interest me. After some time we started for the place since so much celebrated, the Notch of the White Mountains."But nature, which to me was ever welcome, did not attract me as usual. A spirit, over which I had not control, seemed to work within me to the extreme of solemn conviction. People, road, trees, rivers—all seemed gloomy, and I appeared to myself as a monument spared to unite with them in mourning. We finally passed the gloomy Notch, and as I drank in its lonely influence, I felt, unavoidably, its likeness to the mood of my own spirit. AtFranconia, many new prospects and objects appeared to view. The manufactory of iron was at that time and there a great curiosity. At Littleton, further on in our journey, we rode on the river, as it was hardly frozen. I disguised my feelings, and as we were riding along, several in number, I fell in the rear that I might enjoy the meditations in which my mind was absorbed. At this time, an old gentleman, whose silver locks and grave appearance attracted my attention, appeared near me, coming from his house to the river to draw water. My eyes were fixed upon him. 'How far,' said he, 'is your company journeying?' To the province of Lower Canada, I answered. 'Do you live there?' said he. I answered that I did. Then in a solemn tone the old patriarch inquired, 'Is there any religion in that part of the world?' I was surprised to hear this subject introduced by a stranger. I told him there were some in our country who professed religion. He then burst into a flood of tears, and exhorted me with a warm-hearted pathos to seek salvation, and, though I disclosed none of my feelings to him, I was most deeply moved, and the image of the venerable old man was continually before my eyes through the day. I could scarcely refrain from weeping; and whatever others may think of such apparently accidental events, I am free to confess, that from that time until now, I have firmly believed that this old gentleman was a God-sent prophet unto me. The impressions he made continued till I enjoyed the sweet religion that inspired his look and his voice. I have often wished that I might see him and humble myself in thankfulness before him, a thing not to be expected in this life."When we arrived at Stewardstown, near the head of the Connecticut river, I parted with my cousin, whose destination was different from my own. Crossing the line,I passed the night with Dr. Ladd, a friend of my father, who was a Christian and a man of extended knowledge. I treasured up many of his observations. I was then only twenty miles from home, and heard the sad news of the ravages sickness had made during my absence, which greatly disturbed me with the thought that I should never again see all my friends. On the 10th of March, however, I arrived, and though fearful to inquire for my relatives, found, to my joy, that they were all well. In company I sought to be cheerful, but in solitude the keenest sensations of sadness were active."Having business with my cousin at Stanstead, I made him a visit, where I heard a missionary preach and attended as a pall-bearer at a funeral, to which my feelings were much averse. On my return, when I had proceeded as far as Barnston, for some cause I returned a mile and a half, and taking a lantern started on foot through the woods, when suddenly a storm exhibited its signs of dark and angry violence. When about half through the forest, the winds, thunder and lightning were terrific. The rain fell in torrents, my light was soon extinguished, and nothing was left to guide me through the swamp except the lurid flashes of the lightning that made the gloom more terrible. Several trees were struck and fell near me across the road; some branches fell from the tree I had chosen for my shelter, as the tempest mingled with darkness, raged in madness; and never was I so deeply impressed with the might of Him who rules the world and sways the elements. Here I gained a fresh idea of the awful power and mercy of God. I was nearly induced to kneel upon the earth, and there, in the storm, make a covenant with my Maker."At length the storm ceased and I arrived in safety at the house of a friend. The next day I reached home, andthough met by cheerful faces, through the state of my mind, the music of their tones were as mournful sounds. The company in which I had found delight, could no longer entertain me; my home was dressed in mourning, my pillow wet with tears, and the bright prospects which had cheered me had vanished from my sky. I had no heart for business, no relish for pleasure. O how tiresome was every place! I read the Bible in private; often left my father's table in tears; often retired to the grove whose trees, more than those around me, seemed to know my heart, that I might relieve my soul in weeping. None knew the cause of this love of solitariness. Some said 'he suffers the influence of disappointment;' others, that 'he is plotting something for advantage:' none supposed that within me a deep striving was separating me from the world and leading me to the Fountain of Salvation. This period was a severe trial. Every power, it would seem, combined to test my spirit. Sometimes, from the conflict within, whilst darkness held its temporary victory, I was almost tempted to be angry with the Powers above, and with the whole creation; and once, I remember to have so far fallen under the evil power, as to swear at the existing order of things. It was continual trouble. I strove to labor what I could, and to fulfil my station in the family, using all the fortitude I could command. Here many things occurred that I shall not particularize; some things between my father and myself, which I once thought I should mention in every respect, but which the delicacy of the subject and the tenderness of our relation prevent. I can only say that my father was of deistical opinions, and at that time did not possess the degree of friendship and tenderness for the cause of religion which I could have wished him to, and which he indeed possessed some months after."At times, everything seemed to unite in tormenting me, in causing me trouble; again, all things in nature, when my clouds were partially dispersed, had a voice for the Creator's praise. I alone was untuned. The very winds, as they passed, spoke of His power. The stars, ever calm, looked down in love, seeming faithfully to perform the will of their Ordainer; and the flowers of the earth, which bloomed in beauty, sending forth their fragrance to His honor; and the songs of birds, whose notes were full of the primeval innocence, all combined to administer reproof. The following lines would then have spoken my feelings, as the full-blown spring-time lay unfolded around me:"'Ye warblers of the vernal shadeWhose artless music charms my ear,Your loveliness my heart upbraids—My languid heart, how insincere!While all your little powers collected, raiseA tribute to your great Creator's praise."'Ye lovely offsprings of the ground,Flowers of a thousand beauteous dyes,You spread your Maker's glory round,And breathe your odor to the skies:Unsullied you display your lively bloom,Unmingled you present your sweet perfume."'Ye winds that waft the fragrant spring,You, whispering, spread His name abroad,Or shake the air with sounding wing,And speak the awful power of God:His will, with swift obedience, you perform,Or in the gentle gale or dreadful storm."'Ye radiant orbs that guide the dayOr deck the sable veil of night,His wondrous glory you display,Whose hand imparts your useful light:Your constant task, unwearied, you pursue,Nor deviate from the path your Maker drew."'O Lord! thy grace my languid heart can raise,These dissipated powers unite,Can bid me pay my debt of praiseWith love sincere and true delight:Oh! let thy power inspire my heart and tongue,Then will I, grateful, join Creation's song.'"Leaving company almost entirely, and not going into society except on certain occasions, to please my friends or escape reproach, I gave myself up to solitary meditation and to the inward and undefined strivings of my being. In this state of spiritual disquietude, I felt no impulse to attend a church. I was most at home when alone. I heard divine voices where there was no man to act as medium or interpreter. At a funeral, I recollect having assisted in singing, and to have heard from Elder Moulton a sermon that impressed me, he being a man of considerable spiritual power, and one for whom I had particular respect. I heard him also a second time after this, when he most deeply affected my mind. I sometimes repaired to the forest for the express purpose of coming to God in prayer, but for some time was restrained from speaking aloud or kneeling on the earth. My heart was often eased in weeping; and though I had noformof prayer, I believe I prayed as really, as acceptably, as ever I did. Is it not a strange doctrine, so generally promulgated, that sinners, previous to conversion, ought not to pray? To me it is a dark doctrine. The Scriptures do not intimate it. My experience, the divine command, and common sense oppose the dogma. The fact that men are morally weak and sinful, is itself a sufficient occasion for prayer."One Sunday, without the knowledge of our family, I went about two miles to attend a Methodist meeting, in which several spoke, and spoke well. Mrs. John Gilson, a little, delicate woman, with much diffidence arose tospeak. Her wisdom and manner won my heart, and her message, which was particularly to me, seemed to carry the evidence that it was from God. I could never forget it. I knew she was my friend, and believed that she spoke for my good, and I would have rendered her my thanks at the close, but for the restraining power of a sentiment common to me, which was, an unwillingness to disclose to any one my deepest emotions. We had been taught by some, that before we could attain salvation, we should be willing to be damned and lost. I never had this willingness. But, in candor, I must say that my sense of guilt was so deep that I felt I had merited the sentence to be finally uttered against the impenitent."
"When about sixteen or seventeen," continues the journal, "I heard that a young man about my age from Vermont would preach in our vicinity. There was a great move to hear him, and I resolved to go. The house was full. He was evidently one much engaged in God's work. He looked very pale and much worn out. Mr. Moulton was with him, prayed at the beginning of the meeting, afterwhich the young man, Benjamin Putnam, came forward, and in a manner and address that were engaging, and to me peculiarly pleasing, preached a sermon from Isaiah 22:22; a text which I shall never forget. 'And the key of the house of David will I lay upon his shoulder: so he shall open, and none shall shut; and he shall shut, and none shall open.' He described Christ as the Son of God, and the power as being laid upon his shoulder; he also dwelt on what he had opened both to and for man, which none could shut, and finally spoke of the closing of the same door, which none should be able to open. I thought this discourse more glorious than anything I had ever heard. I thought him the happiest young man I ever saw. As soon as meeting was closed he came forward through the assembly and spoke to my brother, which had a solemn effect on us both. Many of his expressions I have ever remembered.
"The Methodist ministers next made their way into our town, and I have always thought that they came in the name and spirit of the Highest. They were humble and earnest. As my father's family seldom attended their meetings, I perhaps did not become acquainted with the first that came. Hays and Briggs were the first I heard. While listening to the farewell sermon of the former I remember to have been deeply affected, and one evening, while listening to Mr. Briggs, I felt a strong conviction of my sin, and believed that I was undone without regeneration. They first formed a small class in town. Leaving the circuit the next year, Joseph Dennet and David Blanchard were their successors, under whose ministry many of the old and the young were turned to God, whilst even children were made happy in Christ. I think that the preaching of the latter was the first that ever broughttears from my eyes. Also, in those days, we had frequent visits from the missionaries, but I do not remember that their preaching had much effect on my own mind or that of any other person.
"In the conflict of good and evil tendencies in the minds of young men who share largely of the passions and giddiness which characterize the period of one's youth, it is interesting to contemplate the skill with which these influences assail each other, each winning its temporary victory, and each wrestling at times with great might for the doubtful mastery. Notwithstanding these solemn emotions to good, I was quite wild and had several bad habits. In hearing Mr. H. preach the summer I was eighteen, I was much aroused to a sense of duty, and though seeing the way of my life to be death, my determinations as yet were not equal to the chain of habit that bound me. On the first of August I looked forward to the 16th, which was my birthday, as the day in which I should begin to walk in newness of life, and for several days this occupied my thoughts. But the time passed, and my resolution with it, whilst my feelings reacted more strongly than ever toward my former ways. The Spirit of God righteously strives with sinners; and many have I seen on languishing beds lamenting their early resistance to the holy influence, and that they had ever broken their promise to Him. I had a taste for reading, and spent much of my time in the perusal of novels and with vain young company. A young man by the name of Richardson was my most intimate friend. On the Sabbath and every other opportunity we were together; we spent the time mostly in reading; I thought I enjoyed happiness in his society. In our assemblies for diversion we ever had a good understanding. His friendship lasted until my conversion, when something far more glorious opened to my view. It appeared a great mystery to him, and itcaused me much sorrow to leave him, but the first lesson I learned from the cross taught me how to relinquish and how to renounce.
"In the autumn of 1810 we had many vain assemblies for dancing and other recreations. Never had I before gone so far in wickedness as at this time. But, in the midst of our gayety, events of Providence compelled our thoughts to serious objects, as death, through the agency of a fatal fever, spread over the town its sorrow and sadness, cutting off the old and the young indiscriminately. On the 10th of January, 1811, I commenced a journey to New Hampshire, to visit my friends, whom I had not seen since 1802. When I arrived at Stanstead, I passed several days with a cousin of mine who was engaged in teaching the art of dancing. He was an agreeable gentleman, and of great talents; but it was a grief to his friends that he had taken to this employment. I was much pleased with the instructions he gave me, as I was anxious to attain perfection in the art.
"With several young men I proceeded on my way to New Hampshire, and making the journey merry with rudeness and laughter, we prosecuted it till I arrived at Gilmanton. Here I found that my honored grandsire no longer occupied his place on earth. His companion, who had watched over my childhood for two years, and had made the voice of prayer familiar to my lips, still survived. Several other relatives had also gone to their long home, and though these things made little impression on my heart, owing to the state of my mind, I could not but solemnly reflect on the hand that had so long upheld me, when I visited my early home, the place of my birth, and recalled the many scenes of my childhood freshly to mind. We have in life but one childhood, and no hours of retrospect put us into such unison with nature as when we live it over in the revival of its scenes.
"I passed several weeks in Gilmanton, attending school a part of the time, and freely enjoyed the company of my young friends. My sister Mary, the wife of General Cogswell, occasionally rebuked me for my lightness, and though I made light of her admonitions at the time, they made much impression on my mind. But most of all I dreaded that my uncle, Mr. Smith, who had been the minister of the place for thirty years, should talk to me about religion. I was very loth to visit him at all, but I stayed with him the last night I remained in town, and to my happy disappointment escaped the drilling I had so much feared, as he did not once mention the subject. In company with my cousin, Joseph Smith, I set out the next day for home, and by evening arrived at Judge William Badger's, a cousin of mine, with whom we had an excellent visit. The next day, when passing through Meredith, we saw a young man standing in the door of a house with a multitude around him. The building appeared to be full of people, to whom he was preaching. We arrived that evening at Camptown, and though I was nearly sick and my spirits depressed by some influence I could not define, and my mind uninterested by surrounding objects, I yielded to the persuasion of my cousin to go on. Nothing was able to interest me. After some time we started for the place since so much celebrated, the Notch of the White Mountains.
"But nature, which to me was ever welcome, did not attract me as usual. A spirit, over which I had not control, seemed to work within me to the extreme of solemn conviction. People, road, trees, rivers—all seemed gloomy, and I appeared to myself as a monument spared to unite with them in mourning. We finally passed the gloomy Notch, and as I drank in its lonely influence, I felt, unavoidably, its likeness to the mood of my own spirit. AtFranconia, many new prospects and objects appeared to view. The manufactory of iron was at that time and there a great curiosity. At Littleton, further on in our journey, we rode on the river, as it was hardly frozen. I disguised my feelings, and as we were riding along, several in number, I fell in the rear that I might enjoy the meditations in which my mind was absorbed. At this time, an old gentleman, whose silver locks and grave appearance attracted my attention, appeared near me, coming from his house to the river to draw water. My eyes were fixed upon him. 'How far,' said he, 'is your company journeying?' To the province of Lower Canada, I answered. 'Do you live there?' said he. I answered that I did. Then in a solemn tone the old patriarch inquired, 'Is there any religion in that part of the world?' I was surprised to hear this subject introduced by a stranger. I told him there were some in our country who professed religion. He then burst into a flood of tears, and exhorted me with a warm-hearted pathos to seek salvation, and, though I disclosed none of my feelings to him, I was most deeply moved, and the image of the venerable old man was continually before my eyes through the day. I could scarcely refrain from weeping; and whatever others may think of such apparently accidental events, I am free to confess, that from that time until now, I have firmly believed that this old gentleman was a God-sent prophet unto me. The impressions he made continued till I enjoyed the sweet religion that inspired his look and his voice. I have often wished that I might see him and humble myself in thankfulness before him, a thing not to be expected in this life.
"When we arrived at Stewardstown, near the head of the Connecticut river, I parted with my cousin, whose destination was different from my own. Crossing the line,I passed the night with Dr. Ladd, a friend of my father, who was a Christian and a man of extended knowledge. I treasured up many of his observations. I was then only twenty miles from home, and heard the sad news of the ravages sickness had made during my absence, which greatly disturbed me with the thought that I should never again see all my friends. On the 10th of March, however, I arrived, and though fearful to inquire for my relatives, found, to my joy, that they were all well. In company I sought to be cheerful, but in solitude the keenest sensations of sadness were active.
"Having business with my cousin at Stanstead, I made him a visit, where I heard a missionary preach and attended as a pall-bearer at a funeral, to which my feelings were much averse. On my return, when I had proceeded as far as Barnston, for some cause I returned a mile and a half, and taking a lantern started on foot through the woods, when suddenly a storm exhibited its signs of dark and angry violence. When about half through the forest, the winds, thunder and lightning were terrific. The rain fell in torrents, my light was soon extinguished, and nothing was left to guide me through the swamp except the lurid flashes of the lightning that made the gloom more terrible. Several trees were struck and fell near me across the road; some branches fell from the tree I had chosen for my shelter, as the tempest mingled with darkness, raged in madness; and never was I so deeply impressed with the might of Him who rules the world and sways the elements. Here I gained a fresh idea of the awful power and mercy of God. I was nearly induced to kneel upon the earth, and there, in the storm, make a covenant with my Maker.
"At length the storm ceased and I arrived in safety at the house of a friend. The next day I reached home, andthough met by cheerful faces, through the state of my mind, the music of their tones were as mournful sounds. The company in which I had found delight, could no longer entertain me; my home was dressed in mourning, my pillow wet with tears, and the bright prospects which had cheered me had vanished from my sky. I had no heart for business, no relish for pleasure. O how tiresome was every place! I read the Bible in private; often left my father's table in tears; often retired to the grove whose trees, more than those around me, seemed to know my heart, that I might relieve my soul in weeping. None knew the cause of this love of solitariness. Some said 'he suffers the influence of disappointment;' others, that 'he is plotting something for advantage:' none supposed that within me a deep striving was separating me from the world and leading me to the Fountain of Salvation. This period was a severe trial. Every power, it would seem, combined to test my spirit. Sometimes, from the conflict within, whilst darkness held its temporary victory, I was almost tempted to be angry with the Powers above, and with the whole creation; and once, I remember to have so far fallen under the evil power, as to swear at the existing order of things. It was continual trouble. I strove to labor what I could, and to fulfil my station in the family, using all the fortitude I could command. Here many things occurred that I shall not particularize; some things between my father and myself, which I once thought I should mention in every respect, but which the delicacy of the subject and the tenderness of our relation prevent. I can only say that my father was of deistical opinions, and at that time did not possess the degree of friendship and tenderness for the cause of religion which I could have wished him to, and which he indeed possessed some months after.
"At times, everything seemed to unite in tormenting me, in causing me trouble; again, all things in nature, when my clouds were partially dispersed, had a voice for the Creator's praise. I alone was untuned. The very winds, as they passed, spoke of His power. The stars, ever calm, looked down in love, seeming faithfully to perform the will of their Ordainer; and the flowers of the earth, which bloomed in beauty, sending forth their fragrance to His honor; and the songs of birds, whose notes were full of the primeval innocence, all combined to administer reproof. The following lines would then have spoken my feelings, as the full-blown spring-time lay unfolded around me:
"'Ye warblers of the vernal shadeWhose artless music charms my ear,Your loveliness my heart upbraids—My languid heart, how insincere!While all your little powers collected, raiseA tribute to your great Creator's praise."'Ye lovely offsprings of the ground,Flowers of a thousand beauteous dyes,You spread your Maker's glory round,And breathe your odor to the skies:Unsullied you display your lively bloom,Unmingled you present your sweet perfume."'Ye winds that waft the fragrant spring,You, whispering, spread His name abroad,Or shake the air with sounding wing,And speak the awful power of God:His will, with swift obedience, you perform,Or in the gentle gale or dreadful storm."'Ye radiant orbs that guide the dayOr deck the sable veil of night,His wondrous glory you display,Whose hand imparts your useful light:Your constant task, unwearied, you pursue,Nor deviate from the path your Maker drew."'O Lord! thy grace my languid heart can raise,These dissipated powers unite,Can bid me pay my debt of praiseWith love sincere and true delight:Oh! let thy power inspire my heart and tongue,Then will I, grateful, join Creation's song.'
"'Ye warblers of the vernal shadeWhose artless music charms my ear,Your loveliness my heart upbraids—My languid heart, how insincere!While all your little powers collected, raiseA tribute to your great Creator's praise.
"'Ye lovely offsprings of the ground,Flowers of a thousand beauteous dyes,You spread your Maker's glory round,And breathe your odor to the skies:Unsullied you display your lively bloom,Unmingled you present your sweet perfume.
"'Ye winds that waft the fragrant spring,You, whispering, spread His name abroad,Or shake the air with sounding wing,And speak the awful power of God:His will, with swift obedience, you perform,Or in the gentle gale or dreadful storm.
"'Ye radiant orbs that guide the dayOr deck the sable veil of night,His wondrous glory you display,Whose hand imparts your useful light:Your constant task, unwearied, you pursue,Nor deviate from the path your Maker drew.
"'O Lord! thy grace my languid heart can raise,These dissipated powers unite,Can bid me pay my debt of praiseWith love sincere and true delight:Oh! let thy power inspire my heart and tongue,Then will I, grateful, join Creation's song.'
"Leaving company almost entirely, and not going into society except on certain occasions, to please my friends or escape reproach, I gave myself up to solitary meditation and to the inward and undefined strivings of my being. In this state of spiritual disquietude, I felt no impulse to attend a church. I was most at home when alone. I heard divine voices where there was no man to act as medium or interpreter. At a funeral, I recollect having assisted in singing, and to have heard from Elder Moulton a sermon that impressed me, he being a man of considerable spiritual power, and one for whom I had particular respect. I heard him also a second time after this, when he most deeply affected my mind. I sometimes repaired to the forest for the express purpose of coming to God in prayer, but for some time was restrained from speaking aloud or kneeling on the earth. My heart was often eased in weeping; and though I had noformof prayer, I believe I prayed as really, as acceptably, as ever I did. Is it not a strange doctrine, so generally promulgated, that sinners, previous to conversion, ought not to pray? To me it is a dark doctrine. The Scriptures do not intimate it. My experience, the divine command, and common sense oppose the dogma. The fact that men are morally weak and sinful, is itself a sufficient occasion for prayer.
"One Sunday, without the knowledge of our family, I went about two miles to attend a Methodist meeting, in which several spoke, and spoke well. Mrs. John Gilson, a little, delicate woman, with much diffidence arose tospeak. Her wisdom and manner won my heart, and her message, which was particularly to me, seemed to carry the evidence that it was from God. I could never forget it. I knew she was my friend, and believed that she spoke for my good, and I would have rendered her my thanks at the close, but for the restraining power of a sentiment common to me, which was, an unwillingness to disclose to any one my deepest emotions. We had been taught by some, that before we could attain salvation, we should be willing to be damned and lost. I never had this willingness. But, in candor, I must say that my sense of guilt was so deep that I felt I had merited the sentence to be finally uttered against the impenitent."
The reader will perceive that the thread of this journal is drawn from such portions of Mr. Badger's early life as seem most directly to express its various moral phases. From other points of experience, it is natural to suppose, much was omitted, the main purpose being that of tracing the moral history of his mind through the years of his youth. I think I never opened a journal that contained throughout a plainer natural impress of truth and reality.
"Repent ye therefore and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out."—St. Peter.
"Repent ye therefore and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out."—St. Peter.
To every work there is a crisis which openly exhibits success or failure. To every growth there are certain perceptible changes by which we note the progress from incipiency to the mature state. There is a symbolical new birth in nature when the rose-tree blooms, when leafless wintry trees are green with foliage and white with blossoms. Summer is a regeneration in the state of the earth, and it is none the less so because we cannot point out the moment, hour, or day, in which the actual summer assumed its effective reign. None fail to see the difference between June and January. If in July you meet the bending lilac, it silently tells you of all that March, April, May and June have done for it. So man's moral periods are marked. The soul in its struggles after divine life, through penitence and faith, reaches a crisis of victory and development of holy purpose, principle and power, which the church has generally agreed to call conversion, and for which we know no better name.
The journal of Mr. Badger, which refers to this epoch of his spiritual history, is headed with a poem on Christ, of which we have space for only a few lines:
"Oh! glorious Father, let my soul pursueThe wondrous labyrinth of love divine,And follow my Redeemer to the cross.Nailed to the cross—his hands, his feet, all tornWith agonizing torture!Stupendous sacrifice! Mysterious love!He died! The Lord of life—the Saviour died!All nature sympathizing, felt the shock.The sun his beams withdrew, and wrapt his faceIn sable clouds and midnight's deepest shade,To mourn the absence of a brighter sun—The Sun of righteousness eclipsed in death!A short eclipse. For soon he rose again,All glorious, to resume his native skies!Oh, love beyond conception!In silent rapture all my powers adore."
"Oh! glorious Father, let my soul pursueThe wondrous labyrinth of love divine,And follow my Redeemer to the cross.Nailed to the cross—his hands, his feet, all tornWith agonizing torture!Stupendous sacrifice! Mysterious love!He died! The Lord of life—the Saviour died!All nature sympathizing, felt the shock.The sun his beams withdrew, and wrapt his faceIn sable clouds and midnight's deepest shade,To mourn the absence of a brighter sun—The Sun of righteousness eclipsed in death!A short eclipse. For soon he rose again,All glorious, to resume his native skies!Oh, love beyond conception!In silent rapture all my powers adore."
In the religious experience of Joseph Badger, as intimated by this poem, Christ with him is always the central sun, the presiding power.
"I do not think," says Mr. B., "that persons cantelltheir religious experience, if their change is real and they have fully felt the effects of love divine. They are led to say with St. Peter, that it is 'joy unspeakable and full of glory.' Human language cannot describe the fulness and sweetness of the religion of Christ. Viewing the invisible depth of its wealth, how faint are our descriptions? How weak our best comparisons, and the metaphors by which we attempt to represent it! The soul which has become a partaker of the divine nature, of its love, is ever ready to exclaim—'The half had never been told me;' yet words, and other imperfect signs, will easily indicate the presence of the reality enjoyed."Eighteen hundred and eleven! that memorable year will never be forgotten by thousands now living, on account of the victorious spread of the Gospel in North America. Generations yet unborn will trace the pagesof ecclesiastical history with anxiety and delight, to learn what transpired among their ancestors during this year. But how soon, when a heavenly influence is in the ascendant, some counteracting power will enter the field with ruinous violence! The cruel war soon succeeded, and devastation spread her vermilion garb over our happy and enlightened land."As I have already alluded, in a former chapter, to the feelings of moral conviction that wrought in my breast, I will only say that they began with this year, and were of a kind neither to be drowned nor driven away. Not for Adam's sins, or the sins of our fathers, did I feel condemned; it was only for such as belonged to me. Light had come and I had chosen darkness. I therefore cast no reflections on any class of persons, as the Gospel, conscience, and the creation, seemed to unite in proclaiming—'Thou art the man;' and under a sense of my ingratitude to Jesus, the sinner's Friend, I felt to add my hearty Amen, and say, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.'"
"I do not think," says Mr. B., "that persons cantelltheir religious experience, if their change is real and they have fully felt the effects of love divine. They are led to say with St. Peter, that it is 'joy unspeakable and full of glory.' Human language cannot describe the fulness and sweetness of the religion of Christ. Viewing the invisible depth of its wealth, how faint are our descriptions? How weak our best comparisons, and the metaphors by which we attempt to represent it! The soul which has become a partaker of the divine nature, of its love, is ever ready to exclaim—'The half had never been told me;' yet words, and other imperfect signs, will easily indicate the presence of the reality enjoyed.
"Eighteen hundred and eleven! that memorable year will never be forgotten by thousands now living, on account of the victorious spread of the Gospel in North America. Generations yet unborn will trace the pagesof ecclesiastical history with anxiety and delight, to learn what transpired among their ancestors during this year. But how soon, when a heavenly influence is in the ascendant, some counteracting power will enter the field with ruinous violence! The cruel war soon succeeded, and devastation spread her vermilion garb over our happy and enlightened land.
"As I have already alluded, in a former chapter, to the feelings of moral conviction that wrought in my breast, I will only say that they began with this year, and were of a kind neither to be drowned nor driven away. Not for Adam's sins, or the sins of our fathers, did I feel condemned; it was only for such as belonged to me. Light had come and I had chosen darkness. I therefore cast no reflections on any class of persons, as the Gospel, conscience, and the creation, seemed to unite in proclaiming—'Thou art the man;' and under a sense of my ingratitude to Jesus, the sinner's Friend, I felt to add my hearty Amen, and say, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.'"
In the pride of philosophical speculation, there are knowing ones who rob the rich idea of God of personality; also, in the attempts to deify the sacred parchments of Palestine, others unwittingly superannuate the Holy Ghost, driving us all to live solely upon ancient words—words that were undoubtedly its breathings when spoken. But one page from the journal of such an experience as that of Mr. Badger is better than all learned theory. Every page referring to his mind's exercise abounds infeeling—earnest, real feeling. He believes in the God of action, who converts therepentant soul by his holy, actual agency; in Jesus he believes as the lone sinner's Friend and Saviour; in the Holy Spirit he confides, not doubting its real striving in his own heart; in the oracles of prophets, of Jesus, and of the apostles, he holds unwavering faith that they are God's real, eternal word; whilst his frequent and many tears in private attest his deep sincerity in seeking his soul's salvation. He recognizes the supernatural, the miraculous, in the conversion of the sinner; and whatever we may concede to the rationalistic statement on this subject in our severely philosophical moods, it is certain that the miraculous statement is the one which more than it concentrates the diviner charm and the more commanding energy. It has ever been so; the statement wearing the outward miraculous hue, is the strong one—the one that holds the element of triumph; and though we do not hold that any work of God with man violates the constitution and laws of the human mind, it would have struck us with diminished effect had St. Paul, before Agrippa, discoursed on the accordance of his conversion with somea prioriargument for an abstract Christianity, or of its accordance with his own nature, and with all nature. This intellectualizing on great vital facts, whatever may be its philosophical merits, can never come up to the bold and picturesque sublimity of the words—"At mid-day, O king, I saw in the way a light from heaven, above the brightness of the sun, shining round about me; and I heard a voice speaking unto me and saying, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?" Such passages reach the soul in every clime, as abstraction never could; and from the reverence we have been accustomedto pay to universal convictions, and from the effect of such eloquence on our own feelings, we believe that mankind have not been fools in the cherishing of faith which brings Divinity into active and wonder-causing contact with humanity. If we have a God in our faith, let us have one who candosomething,saysomething, andimpartsomething to them who ask him, and not a tender abstraction who has no thunder for transgressors, and who is so lenient and plausible that no lawless spirit shall regard him as any essential obstruction in his way. Characters of most energy always grow up under the faith of God's omnipotence, of his awful majesty, beautified by justice and love.
The youth of this memoir looked around upon the dark world, and upward to the great God for his spirit's rest, and searched through the labyrinth of his own conflicting emotions to find a rock for his feet. Often his "eyes were rivers of waters;" and, "as I looked around for comfort, every place revealed some circumstance that gave to grief a keener edge." He is now so deeply touched by the Holy Spirit that nothing filled him with delight like the tender portraiture of the love of Christ; the profane word was now a loathed and jarring discord in his ear; the songs of the wicked deepened his sadness, and often did he repeat to himself, in tears, the well-known lines, "Alas! and did my Saviour bleed!" which he tells us had the power to penetrate his heart of hearts, whilst the most secret and hidden recesses of the wild witnessed his humble thank-offerings of praise and contrite confessions of sin. Without a minister to aid him, and without the sustaining sympathy of a single human creature, he continuedto wage his warfare with the powers of darkness. A young man, alone, with resolves and feelings unknown to man, longing for the clouds of his being to disperse, and for the influx of the immortal light to crown his life! This spectacle, however it may strike the mere formalist and the seeker of material good, is one which, to us, joins with myriads of heart-histories in different climes, to attest the derivation of the soul from God, to declare its yearnings and struggles against the obstacles of sin and sense, that it may regain the atmosphere and light of its native original heaven.
Contrary to the customs of his family, he went, once in a great while, to the Methodist meetings, a denomination whose power to reach the popular mind all over the world is known and honored. At one of these meetings, July, 1811, the persons present supposed, from his former reputation for rudeness, that he was there perhaps to criticise derisively their humble manner of worship. When Mrs. Tilden arose and said, "The eyes of the world are upon us, and if any came here to feast upon our failings, or to spy out our liberties, let us starve them to death, by living such lives that they can find no action of which to speak reproachfully"—after a few moments, he arose and said:
"I very much regret that any of my neighbors and friends should, for one moment, imagine me as an enemy, or suppose that I came here to ridicule what may pass before me. Far be it from my mind. I believe religion is what all men need to make them happy in time and eternity. With all my heart I wish you well and hope you will go on your way rejoicing."
"I very much regret that any of my neighbors and friends should, for one moment, imagine me as an enemy, or suppose that I came here to ridicule what may pass before me. Far be it from my mind. I believe religion is what all men need to make them happy in time and eternity. With all my heart I wish you well and hope you will go on your way rejoicing."
This was the first time he had spoken in public, and though the object of his remark was merely to furnish a gentlemanly apology for being present, it caused the religious people much joy, as they saw him sit down in tears; and ever after his companions regarded him differently, all of whom were startled with surprise, and some wept as they heard his words.
"One of my young friends, a respectable young man, conversed with me on the subject. I stated to him all I had said, and in part I manifested my feelings to him with some degree of boldness. He expressed a fear that I would become deluded, though, by the way, he had never manifested a fear of the kind when we used to dance, play cards, and spend the Sabbath together in the reading of novels. 'About the things of religion,' said he, 'it is not well to be in haste. It is a subject which needs the greatest deliberation.' With this I agreed. He further remarked, 'If a person thinks of such things, it is not best to give expression to such thoughts, because people will talk about it, and you,' continued he, 'are already a subject of conversation. Many are concerned for you, and wish your society, and you know it is a disgrace for us to go among those foolish and ignorant Methodists.' By these remarks, coming from a particular friend, I was embarrassed, but soon learned that I must leave all, and part with my dearest companions for Christ; that two masters it was impossible to serve; and in my indecision I seemed to hear a voice as from heaven, saying, 'Choose ye this day whom ye will serve,' impressing my mind with the idea that then was the time for me to secure an interest in the Great Redeemer. Great things of eternity were continually resting on my mind; the saints, as they had opportunity, began to talk with me, of which I was glad,though to them I did not say much, as I was resolved that others should not know my feelings; even if I were ever so happy as to feel my sins forgiven, I was determined not to say much about it to others, and certainly not to make such an ado over it as many did."I was in search for a great and sudden change. About August 1st, 1811, I felt impressed to retire and unbosom myself to the Eternal God, and cry once more for mercy. Walking through the woods to a large valley, I there, by a murmuring brook, fell on my knees and gave vent to my burdened heart in prayer. For a moment my soul felt delivered of all her griefs, and for a few moments I sung and praised God in that delightful place with all my heart; but doubts arose, and as I cast over the scene the eyes of reason, my little heaven vanished, and I remained in silence. I began to fear that I was walking by the light of imagination, and was warming myself by sparks of my own kindling."I began to be more familiar with the saints, sometimes revealing to them in part my determinations, and always gaining strength by so doing. I had not the same consciousness of sin as before. At times, before I was aware of it, my mind would be soaring above on heavenly things; the Scriptures would beautifully open to my mind, and glorious would seem the things of religion; yet I scarcely dared to rejoice. I derived much benefit and instruction from the conversation of the saints, and though I asked their prayers, I neither united with them in prayer, nor kneeled according to their custom. The narrated experience of others aided me some, and as all my Christian friends advised me to pray, I again kneeled in the solitude of nature to invoke divine aid, when the reflection that I was in the presence of an Omnipotent God sealed my lips in silence. Almost fearing that my performances werebut mockery, I felt inclined to despair. The next day gleams of hope entered my mind; and on Sunday, hearing many speak of the power of God, and of trials they had passed through, in a manner, some of them, that exactly expressed my feelings, I took courage, because there were others in whose Christianity I had confidence, who felt in some respects as I did. Moved, as I think, by the Spirit of God, and from a high state of mental resolve, I arose and told the assembly that I was determined to seek my happiness in religion, in which alone I believed it could be found. Many of the saints praised God aloud, and my soul was filled with joy and peace that were unspeakable. My love to the faithful was far superior to anything that ever before had dilated my heart. On my return home the very winds that waved the trees, and the streams that flowed through the quiet valley, seemed unitedly to speak my great Creator's praise. The fear of man now vanished, and a holy boldness moved me to speak to all around me of the beauties of my Lord. My soul overflowed with love to my greatest enemies, and my wonder was that the chief of sinners did not behold the glory of God, and unite to exalt his name. Through the night my soul was exceedingly happy, and the next morning I thought the sun was never before so richly laden with the glory of God. I had never known so happy, so pleasant a morning."Though I did not then suppose myself converted, I now think, from an analysis of my feelings, that I enjoyed something of the converting grace of God, for the following reasons:—1st. I had a witness in my own soul that God was my friend. 2d. I felt a vital union with all the saints, without respect to name, age, or color. I loved them, and could say, They are my people. Some who were poor and ignorant, whom I had formerly despised, I was ableto embrace as my best friends. 3d. I felt a particular regard for every creature and object God had made, and a tenderness even to the lowest animal forms—as nothing seemed unincluded in the bond of love that united me and all things to Him. 4th. For the chief of sinners I felt particular love, regarding such as brethren in nature, and I greatly wished them to share in the peaceful wealth of the Gospel. 5th. My former ways in which I had sought happiness, now seemed to me as worthless and vain. Indeed I abhorred them."My freedom from the former oppressive gloom, the fulness of the tide of joy that was rising in my breast, at times startled me with the apprehension that as I was not converted I ought not to feel so light and so free, and my embarrassment was increased by the circulation of the report among the people that I was converted. They began to call me brother, which also seemed quite too much for me; and as I could not feel that I had experienced the change as usually described, I began to fear that I was deceived, which caused me much trouble and induced me to be silent for some time, as I was unwilling to discourage or to deceive others. Although I never had so much confidence in dreams as some, yet at this time the glory of God was beautifully revealed to me in night visions, and through them my mind was relieved of many doubts and fears, and again partook of the inward peace which the world in its greatest ability is unable to give. For several weeks, however, I kept my joys to myself, saying nothing in meeting and little in private, as I was determined not to deceive others, as I might in case my joys should prove unreal. Employing myself constantly in reading the Scriptures, that I might walk understandingly, my mind for several weeks was swallowed up in the interest their pages revealed, which unfolded a glory and beauty I cannotdescribe. In my retired moments, I held sweet communion with God, and, notwithstanding the shadows of doubt that crossed my mind in solitude, I was truly led from glory to glory."I heard others tell the day and the hour when the change was wrought in their hearts. Herein was my greatest trouble. My experience was not like others, nor indeed what I supposed it would be. I knew of several times when my mind was relieved of all its oppressions, but as I could single out no one of them and call it conversion, I concluded that the whole together was conversion. Though continually thirsting for new evidence, for which I was much drawn out in prayer, and selecting the most retired places for holy meditation, I pondered, like Mary, these things in my heart. Some conversations about this time, proved beneficial to me; especially was my soul refreshed by the dreams and night visions that came to me, making it seem ofttimes as though angels were hovering over my bed, and my apartment as filled with the divine glory. I was many times ready to say, Iknowthat my Redeemer liveth."
"One of my young friends, a respectable young man, conversed with me on the subject. I stated to him all I had said, and in part I manifested my feelings to him with some degree of boldness. He expressed a fear that I would become deluded, though, by the way, he had never manifested a fear of the kind when we used to dance, play cards, and spend the Sabbath together in the reading of novels. 'About the things of religion,' said he, 'it is not well to be in haste. It is a subject which needs the greatest deliberation.' With this I agreed. He further remarked, 'If a person thinks of such things, it is not best to give expression to such thoughts, because people will talk about it, and you,' continued he, 'are already a subject of conversation. Many are concerned for you, and wish your society, and you know it is a disgrace for us to go among those foolish and ignorant Methodists.' By these remarks, coming from a particular friend, I was embarrassed, but soon learned that I must leave all, and part with my dearest companions for Christ; that two masters it was impossible to serve; and in my indecision I seemed to hear a voice as from heaven, saying, 'Choose ye this day whom ye will serve,' impressing my mind with the idea that then was the time for me to secure an interest in the Great Redeemer. Great things of eternity were continually resting on my mind; the saints, as they had opportunity, began to talk with me, of which I was glad,though to them I did not say much, as I was resolved that others should not know my feelings; even if I were ever so happy as to feel my sins forgiven, I was determined not to say much about it to others, and certainly not to make such an ado over it as many did.
"I was in search for a great and sudden change. About August 1st, 1811, I felt impressed to retire and unbosom myself to the Eternal God, and cry once more for mercy. Walking through the woods to a large valley, I there, by a murmuring brook, fell on my knees and gave vent to my burdened heart in prayer. For a moment my soul felt delivered of all her griefs, and for a few moments I sung and praised God in that delightful place with all my heart; but doubts arose, and as I cast over the scene the eyes of reason, my little heaven vanished, and I remained in silence. I began to fear that I was walking by the light of imagination, and was warming myself by sparks of my own kindling.
"I began to be more familiar with the saints, sometimes revealing to them in part my determinations, and always gaining strength by so doing. I had not the same consciousness of sin as before. At times, before I was aware of it, my mind would be soaring above on heavenly things; the Scriptures would beautifully open to my mind, and glorious would seem the things of religion; yet I scarcely dared to rejoice. I derived much benefit and instruction from the conversation of the saints, and though I asked their prayers, I neither united with them in prayer, nor kneeled according to their custom. The narrated experience of others aided me some, and as all my Christian friends advised me to pray, I again kneeled in the solitude of nature to invoke divine aid, when the reflection that I was in the presence of an Omnipotent God sealed my lips in silence. Almost fearing that my performances werebut mockery, I felt inclined to despair. The next day gleams of hope entered my mind; and on Sunday, hearing many speak of the power of God, and of trials they had passed through, in a manner, some of them, that exactly expressed my feelings, I took courage, because there were others in whose Christianity I had confidence, who felt in some respects as I did. Moved, as I think, by the Spirit of God, and from a high state of mental resolve, I arose and told the assembly that I was determined to seek my happiness in religion, in which alone I believed it could be found. Many of the saints praised God aloud, and my soul was filled with joy and peace that were unspeakable. My love to the faithful was far superior to anything that ever before had dilated my heart. On my return home the very winds that waved the trees, and the streams that flowed through the quiet valley, seemed unitedly to speak my great Creator's praise. The fear of man now vanished, and a holy boldness moved me to speak to all around me of the beauties of my Lord. My soul overflowed with love to my greatest enemies, and my wonder was that the chief of sinners did not behold the glory of God, and unite to exalt his name. Through the night my soul was exceedingly happy, and the next morning I thought the sun was never before so richly laden with the glory of God. I had never known so happy, so pleasant a morning.
"Though I did not then suppose myself converted, I now think, from an analysis of my feelings, that I enjoyed something of the converting grace of God, for the following reasons:—1st. I had a witness in my own soul that God was my friend. 2d. I felt a vital union with all the saints, without respect to name, age, or color. I loved them, and could say, They are my people. Some who were poor and ignorant, whom I had formerly despised, I was ableto embrace as my best friends. 3d. I felt a particular regard for every creature and object God had made, and a tenderness even to the lowest animal forms—as nothing seemed unincluded in the bond of love that united me and all things to Him. 4th. For the chief of sinners I felt particular love, regarding such as brethren in nature, and I greatly wished them to share in the peaceful wealth of the Gospel. 5th. My former ways in which I had sought happiness, now seemed to me as worthless and vain. Indeed I abhorred them.
"My freedom from the former oppressive gloom, the fulness of the tide of joy that was rising in my breast, at times startled me with the apprehension that as I was not converted I ought not to feel so light and so free, and my embarrassment was increased by the circulation of the report among the people that I was converted. They began to call me brother, which also seemed quite too much for me; and as I could not feel that I had experienced the change as usually described, I began to fear that I was deceived, which caused me much trouble and induced me to be silent for some time, as I was unwilling to discourage or to deceive others. Although I never had so much confidence in dreams as some, yet at this time the glory of God was beautifully revealed to me in night visions, and through them my mind was relieved of many doubts and fears, and again partook of the inward peace which the world in its greatest ability is unable to give. For several weeks, however, I kept my joys to myself, saying nothing in meeting and little in private, as I was determined not to deceive others, as I might in case my joys should prove unreal. Employing myself constantly in reading the Scriptures, that I might walk understandingly, my mind for several weeks was swallowed up in the interest their pages revealed, which unfolded a glory and beauty I cannotdescribe. In my retired moments, I held sweet communion with God, and, notwithstanding the shadows of doubt that crossed my mind in solitude, I was truly led from glory to glory.
"I heard others tell the day and the hour when the change was wrought in their hearts. Herein was my greatest trouble. My experience was not like others, nor indeed what I supposed it would be. I knew of several times when my mind was relieved of all its oppressions, but as I could single out no one of them and call it conversion, I concluded that the whole together was conversion. Though continually thirsting for new evidence, for which I was much drawn out in prayer, and selecting the most retired places for holy meditation, I pondered, like Mary, these things in my heart. Some conversations about this time, proved beneficial to me; especially was my soul refreshed by the dreams and night visions that came to me, making it seem ofttimes as though angels were hovering over my bed, and my apartment as filled with the divine glory. I was many times ready to say, Iknowthat my Redeemer liveth."
In this manner Mr. B. records the operations of his youthful mind in seeking to solve the most serious of all problems—his soul's salvation. One perceives the presence of much self-distrust, much repentance; and an abundance of sympathetic sensibility to whatever is morally powerful and affecting in religion. Perhaps some have already taken it for granted that this youth of overflowing energy, lonely meditation, earnest prayer, and self-questionings, was wholly moving on the tide of popular instruction, or that he fell as melted lead or iron, into the moulds of theological teaching alreadyprepared. This view is suddenly dispersed by all that is known of the man, and by the facts of the narrative itself. Do not sin and conscious alienation from God afford good cause for weeping? Are not the elements of the soul itself good reason for prayer, for deep desire and aspiration after a union of spirit with Him who is its Parent source and the glorious Perfection, of which it now has clear and happy glimpses? That work was unable to absorb his mind, that society could not get very near his heart, that his food even became tasteless, and his home a scene of mourning, are facts that hail from certain states of mind that have their deep significance, and which, in India and Persia, as well as in the American wilderness, have their numerous representatives.
He speaks of a time of religious interest when his father felt the need of something; more than Deism as a support to his mind; also of his becoming deeply interested in the ministry of Mr. Farewell, a Universalist minister; of his reading with great zeal the writings of Winchester, Dr. Hunting, Ballou, and others of the same faith, often spending whole nights in writing and study; books which, at his father's request, he also studied; and though for a time embarrassed by the philosophical arguments of Mr. Ballou on the Atonement and other topics, he discarded them ere long, with an earnest decision as opposed to the religious experience which gave him joy and hope, and as contrary to the plain teachings of the Scriptures. At this early day Universalism was indeed a bold extreme, it being little else than Calvinism benevolently applied to human destiny; and its strongly controversial and undevotionalcharacter was poorly adapted to a welcome in hearts that were glowing with the sacred enthusiasm of religious love. One evening he offered some speculative conversation in relation to the being and attributes of Satan, which so hurt the minds of the converts that he resolved no longer to harbor these negations, the dwelling upon which so much discorded with the happy feelings inspired by their simple faith and humble worship.
The Methodist denomination, at this time very spiritual and very prosperous in the province, was with him a favorite, though for reasons independent of the dictation of persons or of circumstances, he did not become a member of their society in his town, a fact which did not at all interfere with the entire freedom and cordial fellowship they mutually enjoyed. A Methodist Discipline is kindly offered him. He gladly reads, and commits it mostly to memory. But there is something in this young man that questions the Discipline and the ministers who explain it; that regards it as formal, and in many respects unlike the Scriptures; that quietly declines making it the groundwork of a faith and a sectarian position, though he does not break the happy concord about him by obtruding open controversy. He joined no sect.
"I wondered," said he, "that saints cannot all be one. I thought it strange that the affectionate names of 'Brethren,' 'Disciples,' 'Christians,' 'Friends,'—golden names that I found scattered through the New Testament, were not sufficient without the sectarian names under which the denominations were marshalled. This was a great mystery to me. I knew of none at that time who adopted thename ofChristianas their only designation; but young and ignorant as I then was, I thought I beheld something more glorious than anything at which either myself or others had as yet arrived. My trials in pondering over these things were great. There were others who agreed with me in ideas of liberty, that were far greater than anything within the limits of the Discipline."
"I wondered," said he, "that saints cannot all be one. I thought it strange that the affectionate names of 'Brethren,' 'Disciples,' 'Christians,' 'Friends,'—golden names that I found scattered through the New Testament, were not sufficient without the sectarian names under which the denominations were marshalled. This was a great mystery to me. I knew of none at that time who adopted thename ofChristianas their only designation; but young and ignorant as I then was, I thought I beheld something more glorious than anything at which either myself or others had as yet arrived. My trials in pondering over these things were great. There were others who agreed with me in ideas of liberty, that were far greater than anything within the limits of the Discipline."
At a time when the righteousness of sectarianism was undisputed, when no voices from the pulpit were pleading for the true catholicity of the Christian faith, and when his associates were moved along by emotional ardor, was it not a strong, clear-sighted, original force of the young man that paused to ask, Why this formality and narrowness of creed? Why these many sectarian names? Why is the unity of the religion of Jesus broken by sects? These indeed were great questions for a young man in 1811; and in resolving them into a principle of action without relinquishing an iota of the faith and piety that had inspired him with hope, and joy unspeakable, he has given to the world an early proof of the superiority of mind of which his maturer years were the exhibition. The multitude, yielding to the enthusiasm of great moral excitement, often float along as flood-wood. He so controlled the current that bore him, as to be his own man, free from the despotism of any sectarian platform.
Through the spring and summer of 1812, his mind steadily poised on heavenly things, and anxious to do what the will of God in Christ required, he made the subject of baptism a topic of study.
"I searched the New Testament, as I was determined to know all that it said on the subject. I first became satisfied from the Scriptures, and secret prayer, that baptism was an institution of the Redeemer. 2. That it was enjoined on all believers in the Son of God. 3. That the mode practised in primitive days was going down into the water, and coming up out of the water after being buried therein. Although I was so clear relative to these three ideas, I often wept and cried to God in secret places in view of my unworthiness; but I received a glorious answer that in this institution of outward acknowledgment and obedience, I ought to follow the examples of Him who is the Way, the Truth, and Life. One evening when my mind was much tried on this subject, I prayed to God that if it was my duty to be baptized, I might dream of pleasant water. That night when locked in sleep I dreamed of riding on the most beautiful stream that I ever had seen; also of being immersed in the pure and tranquil element, whilst the divine glory shone around as a sacred enchantment. When I awoke my heart was filled with love divine, and I believe that, had there been an administrator present, I should hardly have waited for the day-dawn. These feelings I kept to myself; and, as I could not think of any administrator, or fix on time and place, I continued in this way till the first of September."I then went to Hatley to attend a general meeting, and a glorious time it was. Here I first saw Elder Benjamin Page, from Vermont, who preached a very instructive and refreshing discourse from Rom. 8: 21. 'Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the sons of God.' Here I became acquainted with many of God's people whom I had not known, and in their spirituality and freedom I saw what more accorded with my existingideas than I yet had seen. Nearly two hours Mr. Page spoke again from Isa. 33: 2. It was a glorious time, as was also the evening meeting, in which many participated. The next day we all parted with tears of joy, never expecting to meet again on earth. As I was about to leave, I took Elder Moulton by the hand and asked him if he would come to Compton and preach, to which he replied that he would whenever I desired him, inquiring at the same time if there were not some in our vicinity who would like to receive baptism, saying, 'I have thought for some time that I should have to go there to administer this ordinance'—a remark that gave to my former impressions a new evidence of my present duty. We agreed upon the time; I made the appointment and longed for the day to come; but the morning that brought me this new responsibility was not wholly without clouds, as the cross appeared great and fears arose. In spirit, I said,—"'Jesus, my Lord, my Life, my Light,O come with blissful ray;Break radiant through the shades of night,And chase my fears away.'In a trembling and prayerful state of mind I went to church, where I found a large concourse of people in attendance, to whom Elder M. preached words of life. Among the many that were moved to speak in honor of the Redeemer, I arose, expressed my love to God and the saints, inviting my young companions to a rich and costly repast, without money and without price. Here every doubt was removed. Here I gained strength. The glory of God filled my heart. My father being present, Elder M. asked him if he was willing that his son should go forward in baptism, to which he replied that he was perfectly willing that Joseph, in things of religion, should act according to his own conception of duty. This gaveme additional joy. I had chosen a pleasant stream, the Coatecook river, as the place where I preferred to receive baptism, to which locality we walked, two and two, in large procession, the distance of half a mile, singing the praises of God as we advanced. This day, Sept. 29, 1812, will be held in everlasting remembrance by me. My father sat upon his horse a few rods above me, in the water, so as to have a fair prospect. I was informed by the spectators who stood near him, that when I went into the water the tears flowed freely from his eyes. Under the smile of clear skies, of a quiet surrounding nature, I was baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. The hearts of the brethren on shore appeared full of joy, and some voices of acclamation were heard. It seemed, indeed, as though the heavens were opened, and the Spirit was hovering on the assembly. Some praised, others wept, and a sweet peace and calmness filled my soul. As I ascended from the water, I sung the following lines with the Spirit, and I think with the understanding also:"'But who is this that cometh forth,Sweet as the blooming morning,Fair as the moon, clear as the sun?'Tis Jesus Christ adorning.'[10]We returned singing; and truly, like the Ethiopian worshipper, we 'went on our way rejoicing.' From this time, I felt that I was newly established in God's grace. I had more strength to withstand temptation, more confidence to speak in the holy cause of the Redeemer. Here, with the Psalmist, I could say, 'How love I thy law; it is my meditation all the day.'"'Let wonder still with love unite,And gratitude and joy;Be holiness my heart's delight,Thy praises my employ.'"
"I searched the New Testament, as I was determined to know all that it said on the subject. I first became satisfied from the Scriptures, and secret prayer, that baptism was an institution of the Redeemer. 2. That it was enjoined on all believers in the Son of God. 3. That the mode practised in primitive days was going down into the water, and coming up out of the water after being buried therein. Although I was so clear relative to these three ideas, I often wept and cried to God in secret places in view of my unworthiness; but I received a glorious answer that in this institution of outward acknowledgment and obedience, I ought to follow the examples of Him who is the Way, the Truth, and Life. One evening when my mind was much tried on this subject, I prayed to God that if it was my duty to be baptized, I might dream of pleasant water. That night when locked in sleep I dreamed of riding on the most beautiful stream that I ever had seen; also of being immersed in the pure and tranquil element, whilst the divine glory shone around as a sacred enchantment. When I awoke my heart was filled with love divine, and I believe that, had there been an administrator present, I should hardly have waited for the day-dawn. These feelings I kept to myself; and, as I could not think of any administrator, or fix on time and place, I continued in this way till the first of September.
"I then went to Hatley to attend a general meeting, and a glorious time it was. Here I first saw Elder Benjamin Page, from Vermont, who preached a very instructive and refreshing discourse from Rom. 8: 21. 'Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the sons of God.' Here I became acquainted with many of God's people whom I had not known, and in their spirituality and freedom I saw what more accorded with my existingideas than I yet had seen. Nearly two hours Mr. Page spoke again from Isa. 33: 2. It was a glorious time, as was also the evening meeting, in which many participated. The next day we all parted with tears of joy, never expecting to meet again on earth. As I was about to leave, I took Elder Moulton by the hand and asked him if he would come to Compton and preach, to which he replied that he would whenever I desired him, inquiring at the same time if there were not some in our vicinity who would like to receive baptism, saying, 'I have thought for some time that I should have to go there to administer this ordinance'—a remark that gave to my former impressions a new evidence of my present duty. We agreed upon the time; I made the appointment and longed for the day to come; but the morning that brought me this new responsibility was not wholly without clouds, as the cross appeared great and fears arose. In spirit, I said,—
"'Jesus, my Lord, my Life, my Light,O come with blissful ray;Break radiant through the shades of night,And chase my fears away.'
"'Jesus, my Lord, my Life, my Light,O come with blissful ray;Break radiant through the shades of night,And chase my fears away.'
In a trembling and prayerful state of mind I went to church, where I found a large concourse of people in attendance, to whom Elder M. preached words of life. Among the many that were moved to speak in honor of the Redeemer, I arose, expressed my love to God and the saints, inviting my young companions to a rich and costly repast, without money and without price. Here every doubt was removed. Here I gained strength. The glory of God filled my heart. My father being present, Elder M. asked him if he was willing that his son should go forward in baptism, to which he replied that he was perfectly willing that Joseph, in things of religion, should act according to his own conception of duty. This gaveme additional joy. I had chosen a pleasant stream, the Coatecook river, as the place where I preferred to receive baptism, to which locality we walked, two and two, in large procession, the distance of half a mile, singing the praises of God as we advanced. This day, Sept. 29, 1812, will be held in everlasting remembrance by me. My father sat upon his horse a few rods above me, in the water, so as to have a fair prospect. I was informed by the spectators who stood near him, that when I went into the water the tears flowed freely from his eyes. Under the smile of clear skies, of a quiet surrounding nature, I was baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. The hearts of the brethren on shore appeared full of joy, and some voices of acclamation were heard. It seemed, indeed, as though the heavens were opened, and the Spirit was hovering on the assembly. Some praised, others wept, and a sweet peace and calmness filled my soul. As I ascended from the water, I sung the following lines with the Spirit, and I think with the understanding also:
"'But who is this that cometh forth,Sweet as the blooming morning,Fair as the moon, clear as the sun?'Tis Jesus Christ adorning.'[10]
"'But who is this that cometh forth,Sweet as the blooming morning,Fair as the moon, clear as the sun?'Tis Jesus Christ adorning.'[10]
We returned singing; and truly, like the Ethiopian worshipper, we 'went on our way rejoicing.' From this time, I felt that I was newly established in God's grace. I had more strength to withstand temptation, more confidence to speak in the holy cause of the Redeemer. Here, with the Psalmist, I could say, 'How love I thy law; it is my meditation all the day.'
"'Let wonder still with love unite,And gratitude and joy;Be holiness my heart's delight,Thy praises my employ.'"
"'Let wonder still with love unite,And gratitude and joy;Be holiness my heart's delight,Thy praises my employ.'"
Thus reads the narrative of such outward and inward facts as belong to the early religious history of Joseph Badger. Its component parts are, deep feeling, much thought, temporary doubting and despondency, penitence, inward aspiration, prayerful reliance on God, and at last a wide Christian fellowship, untinged by sectarian preference, and a conscious peace and joy in God. Through the many changes of theory, each winning admirers and having its day; through the stormy excitements of the religious feeling in the world, Mr. B. always retained his equilibrium and his constancy. And why? Because he laid his basis not in dogma, not in speculation, but inexperience. By this he held his course, it being an anchor in the sea-voyage of life, a pole-star to the otherwise doubtful wanderings of the world's night. What can we or any oneknowof Divinity, except what we hold in our inward consciousness and experience? Nothing else.Wordsdo not reveal holy mysteries. The soul must have God in its own life, or He is a mere intellectual conception, a mere word. We admire the poetic, marvellous vein that enables one to linger upon a beautiful dream. The young man, already rich in the Spirit's baptism, saw sacred value in the outward form, in the pure Scripture symbol. Earlier than the dates of Christian records in Palestine, did the religious feeling of man, in different climes, select water as one of its best formal expressions; and, though not heretoforeinattentive to what theological controversy has said on the subject, we should say it is as well to stake one's duty now on a beautiful dream, as on all the light engendered by the ablest controversy ever held by polemic divines. The Coatecook and the Jordan are, through faith, equally sacred, as it is the Spirit that sanctifies. What can surpass in beauty and loveliness, the idea of the grand baptismal scene of the sacred river of Judea? We imagine the numerous multitude walking silently thither through the overshadowing woods, and in anxious, reverent musings, standing upon its banks. We feel the thoughts of penitence, the gleams of hope, half shaded by melancholy, as they here stole into the hearts of Abraham's dejected sons; and with them we muse upon the expected Christ of their deliverance, whom they daily hoped to see. We gaze upon the form of one whose moral and physical beauty it had delighted the eyes of the most beautiful to have seen; and as the waters glide by him on either side in graceful loveliness,—as the yellow sunbeams here and there rest calmly upon the shaded current, we see him meekly bowed into the genial waters; and what artist shall ever picture the beauty of the ideal in our minds when we view the circling dove from on high hovering upon the Saviour's breast, and the golden stream of light through the opening heaven descending upon his brow? Formal baptism, thus honored and glorified, remains a permanent institution of religion and of the Christian Church.