irtifi IS ©lualojlical Seminary, j'iiiNci:ff{^^j^._j. No. Case, \^ No. Shelf, No. Book, V tion /077¥ v, /2- p nm&Mss) ipAirs®s„X).^ ) IEVAN«a<:]L!K'A!l. '(^ :fam:ii/y IjUbbakx YO Ij All I'lihlislx'tl liylhe BI E la O Z B, REV. EDWARD PAYSON, D. D. LATE OF PORTLAND, MAINE. BY REV. ASA CUMMINGS, Bene orasse est bene studuisse Luther. PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 130 NASSAU-STREET, NEW-YORK. D. Fanshaw, Printer. In this edition, whatever was judged to be of mere local interest, and a portion of the comments which had been largely interspersed, are omitted, under the sanction of the author. The exhibition of Dr. Payson's life and character, especially as shown in his own journal and correspondence, is full ; and every thing retained which was supposed to be of general interest to the intelligent and pious reader. DISTRICT OF 3IAINE, TO WIT : District Clerk's Ojgice. Be it remembered, That on the twenty-fifth day of February, A. D. 1830, and in the fifty-fourth year of the Independence of the United States of America, Mr?. Ann L. Payson, of said district, has deposited iu this office the title of a book, the right whereof she claims as proprietor, in tlie words following, to wit : "A Memoir of the Rev. Edward Paj'son, D. D. late Pastor of the Se- cond Church in Portland. Bene orasse est bene ftuduisse. — Luther." In conformity to the act of tlie Congress of the United States, entitled, " An Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books, to the authors and prorietors of sucii coj)ies dur- ing the times therein mentioned ;" and also to an act, entitled, " An Act supplementary to an act, entitled, ' An Act for the encouragement of learn- ing, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books to the authors and •proprietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned ;' and for extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints." J. MUSSEY, Clerk of the District of Maine. A true copy as of record, Attest, J. MUSSEY, Clerk D. C. Maine. CONTENTS. . „ .- .-. ■ ■■ '■" - ,^ :.. Page. Chap, i. Birth of Edward f*aysbii^— His early, impres- sions ; intellectual qualities ; filial and fraternal conduct ; moral character — His literary education ; enters Harvard College ; his reputation there 5 Chap. ii. Comprising a period of three years from the time of his leaving college 14 Chap. m. His religious history during the period em- braced in the preceding chapter 29 Chap. iv. Retires to Rindge, and devotes himself ex- clusively to his preparation for the ministry 6G Chap. v. His state of mind in the immediate prospect of the ministry 93 Chap. vi. His first efforts as a preacher — His religious character further developed 108 Chap. vii. Visits Portland — His favorable reception, and Ordination ' 125 Chap. vm. His concern for his flock — Reverse in his temporal prospects — Is taken from his work by sickness 140 Chap. ix. Resumes his pastoral labors— Letters— Re- view of the year 156 Chap. x. His dependence on God ; its influence on himself and church — His uniform purpose to know nothing save Jesus Christ and Him crucified — Illus- tration— Letters — Resolutions — Increased success 176 Chap. xi. Permanency and strength of maternal influ- ence—Correspondence— Death-bed anguish, how alleviated — Disgraceful incident — Price of popula- rity— Reasons of former trials developed — Let- ters, &c. 198 Chap. xn. Holy aspirations — Gratitude to the Savior — Multiplied labors — Novel family scene — Danger 4 CONTENTS. Page averted—" Curious frame "—Flattery deprecated — His marriage — Becomes sole pastor of the church — Retrospect of the year 216 CfiAP. xiri. Forms of prayer — Thoughts on public prayer — His sincerity a grand means of his suc- cess 240 Chap, xiv. The pastor in action— Methods of excit- ing, sustaining and extending a due interest in re- ligious concerns — Preaching, administration of or- dinances, church fast, conference, inquiry meetings ■ 254 Chap. xv. The same subject — Bible class — Pastoral visits — Social parties — Special and casual inter- views— Charm of his conversation — Singular ren- counter— Whence his competency — His publica- tions 2i^5 Chap, xvi. His exertions without the bounds of hispa- rish — Influence on his ministerial associates ; in re- suscitating and edifying other churches — Visits " The Springs " — Effect of his example, conversa- tion, and prayers on other visiters — Excursions in behalf of charitable societies — Translation of mi- nisters— He is invited to Boston and New-York 317 Chap. xvii. Letters to persons in various circumstan- ces and states of mind 339 Chap. xvm. His private character — His affections and demeanor as a husband, father, master, friend — His gratitude, economy, generosity — His temper of mind imder injuries 377 Chap. xix. Further particulars relating to his person- al history, and religious exercises, in connection with his pastoral labors and their results 398 Chap. xx. His last labors — His spiritual joys, heaven- ly counsels, and brightening intellect, during the progress of his disease — His triumphant death 448 Lines by Mrs. Sigourney 485 MEMOIR. OjS^i; :^ CHAPTER I. Birth of Edwa/rA Pay son — His early impressions ; intellectual qualities ; filial and, firaternal conduct ; moral character — His literary education : enters Harvard College ; his reputa- tion there. Edward Payson was bom at Rindge, New-Hamp- shire, July 25th, 1783. His father was the Rev. Seth Payson, D. D. pastor of the church in Rindge, a man of piety and public spirit, distinguished as a clergyman, and favorably known as an author. His mother. Grata Payson, was a distant relative of her husband, their lineage, after being traced back a few generations, meeting in the same stock. To the Christian fidelity of these parents there is the fullest testimony in the subsequent and repeated acknowledgments of their son, who habitually attributed his religious hopes, as well as his usefulness in life, under God, to their instruc- tions, example, and prayers — especially those of his mother. She appears to have admitted him to the most intimate, unreserved, and confiding intercourse, which was yet so wisely conducted as to strengthen rather than diminish his filial reverence j to have cherished a M. p. 1* 6 MEMOIR OF remarkable inquisitiveness of mind, which early dis- covered itself in him; and to have patiently heard and replied to the almost endless inquiries which his early thirst for knowledge led him to propose. His father was not less really and sincerely interested for the welfare of his son ; but, from the nature of the relation, and the calls of official duty, his opportunities must have been less frequent, and his instructions have par- taken of a more formal character. With the mother, however, opportunities were always occurring, and she seems to have been blessed with the faculty and disposition to turn them to the best advantage. Ed- ward's recollections of her extended back to very early childhood ; and he has been heard to say, that though she was very solicitous that he might be liberally edu- cated, and receive every accomplishment which would increase his respectability and influence in the world, yet he could distinctly see that the supreme, the all- absorbing concern of her soul respecting him, was, that he might become a child of God. This manifested it- self in her discipline, her counsels, expostulations, and prayers, which were followed up with a perseverance that nothing could check. And they were not in vain. From the first developement of his moral powers, his mind was more or less affected by his condition and prospects as a sinner. It is among the accredited tra- ditions of his family, that he was often known to weep under the preaching of the Gospel, when only three years old. About this period, too, he would frequently call his mother to his bed-side to converse on religion, and to answer numerous questions respecting his re- lations to God and the future world. How long this seriousness continued, or to what interruptions it was EDWARD PAYSON. 7 subjected, does not clearly appear ; nor is much known as to the peculiar character of his exercises at that time ; but that they were not mere transient impres- sions seems highly probable from the fact, that, in sub- sequent years, his mother was inclined to the belief that he was converted in childhood. There was some other cause than maternal partiality for this opinion, as she did not cherish it alone. Besides, his intimate friends have reason for believing that he never ne- glected secret prayer while a resident in his father's family. The evidences of his piety, however, were, at this period, far from being conclusive ; he, at least, does not appear to have regarded them as such ; nei- ther were they so regarded by his father, who had earnestly desired to see him a decided follower of the Redeemer, before encountering the dangers to reli- gious principle and pure morals, which are sometimes found within the walls of a college. How far those mental qualities, which distinguished Dr. Payson's maturity, were apparent in his early days, cannot now be known ; for, though he died compara- tively young, his parents had gone before him, and their surviving children were all younger than this son. The very few incidents belonging to this period of his history, which have escaped oblivion, though not adequate to satisfy curiosity, are, on the whole, characteristic, and afford undoubted indications that this well-known decision, enterprise, and perseverance had dawned even in childhood. That he was a minute observer of nature, and highly susceptible of emotions from the grand and beautiful in the handy-works of God, was obvious to all who had the privilege of listening to his conversation or his 8 MEMOIR OF preaching. His taste for the sublime very early dis.- covered itself. During a tempest, he might be seen ex- posed on the top of the fence, or some other eminence, while the lightnings played and the thunders rolled around him, sitting in delightful composure, and en- joying the sublimity of the scene. He is said to have manifested an early predilection for arithmetic ; and was a tolerable proficient in the art of reading at the age of four years — an art which no man ever employed to better advantage. The sur- prising quickness with which he would transfer to his own mind the contents of a book, at a time when a new book was a greater rarity than it now is, threatened to exhaust his sources of information through this me- dium. All the books in his father's collection, and the town library, which were of a character suited to his age and attainments, were read before he left the pa- ternal home, and retained with such tenacity of me- mory, as to be ever after available for illustrating truths, or enlivening and embellishing discourse. It is natural to inquire whether there was any thing in the circumstances of his early youth which will ac- count for his mental habits, and especially the rapidity of his intellectual operations. A partial answer may be found in the fact, that his time was divided between labor and study. His father, like most ministers of country congregations, derived the means of support- ing his family, in part, from a farm, which his sons assisted in cultivating. From his share in these agri- cultural labors the subject of this Memoir was not ex- empted. But, whatever were his employment, though he appears to have engaged in it with cheerfulness, and to have prosecuted it with fidelity, his thirst for EDWARD PAYS ON. 9 knowledge was the ruling passion of his soul. This he sought to quench, or rather to cherish, by resorting to his book at every interval from toil, however short, when he tasked his mind to the utmost of his power, intent on making the greatest possible acquisition in a given time. His mind, though strung up to the high- est pitch of exertion at these seasons, suffered no in- jury thereby, as it was soon diverted from its employ- ment by a call to the field ; and every repetition of the process extended its capability and power. The ac- quisitions, in this way obtained, furnished materials on which to employ his thoughts while engaged in manual labor, which he would not fail to digest and lay up in store for future use, — a voluntary discipline of most auspicious influence, as it respects the facility of acquiring knowledge, and the power of retaining it. His early literary, as well as moral and religious education, is believed to have been conducted princi- pally by his parents, except the studies preparatory to college, which were pursued, in part at least, at a neighboring academy. His preparatory course was completed before the long and fondly-cherished de- sires of his father respecting his personal piety were realized. Still the good man could hardly cherish the thought of conferring on his son the advantages of a public education, without an assurance grounded on evidences of experimental religion, that he would em- ploy his attainments for the best good of his fellow- men, and the glory of his Maker. With reference to this essential requisite, he used much earnest expostu- lation, and even went so far as to say to him, " To give you a liberal education, while destitute of reli- gion, would be like putting a sword into the hands of a madman." 10 MEMOIR OF Whetner the father was led to adopt such strong language, from having observed in his son the exist- ence of those properties which, in their future devel- opement, were to give him j.uch power over his spe- cies, or whether it proceeded merely from anxiety to transfer his own feelings and convictions to the mind of his son, — there does not appear to have been, in either the disposition or conduct of the latter, any particular cause for unusual apprehensions respecting him. His filial affection and conduct had been, and ever con- tinued to be, most exemplary, as manifested by his letters when absent, and by his reverence for his pa- rents and cheerful obedience when at home. His fra- ternal feelings were kind, and his conduct toAvards his brothers and sisters faithful and aflectionate. By them ne was greatly beloved, and his vacations, when he should visit home, and mingle again in the domestic circle, were anticipated with delightful interest, as the halcyon days of their lives. His moral character comes down to us, even from the first, without a blemish; and, by consent of all, he sustained the reputation of a magnanimous, honorable, generous youth. His father, as is obvious from the event, had formed no peremptory and unalterable purpose to wait for the certain fruits of personal religion before sending him to college ; and the real cause of hesitancy was, proba- bly, the tender age and inexperience of his son. The interval of his detention was a favorable season for the application of religious motives. As such it was im- proved by this solicitous parent, and not in vain ; for his faithful suggestions and appeals were afterwards recalled by the object of his solicitude, with most grate- ful and impressive interest. Young Payson though de- EDWARD PAYSON. 11 tained from college, was permitted to pursue his stu- dies— but whether exclusively, or in connection with other employments, does not appear, — till he was fitted to join the Sophomore class; when, all objections be- ing waived, he entered Harvard College, at an advanced standing, in 1800, about the time he completed his se- venteenth year. He had now a new ordeal to pass — a severe test for both his talents and character. Many a youth, who was regarded as a prodigy of genius in the place of his nativity, and who anticipated the same eminence at the seat of science, has found himself sadly disap- pointed, in being obliged to take his rank below medi- ocrity. Thus it had nearly fared with Payson — not that he was destitute of real Avorth ; but there were circumstances which prevented that Avorth from being appreciated. The first impressions respecting him were unfavorable. " You would have taken him, says a classmate, for an unpolished, ignorant country lad ; exceedingly modest, unassuming, and reserved in his manners. And, as we generally look for a long time at the words and actions of a character through the same medium by which he was first presented to us, his merit was for a long time unknown." This judg- ing from appearances is, perhaps, unavoidable, though often very injurious. In his youth, Mr. Payson's mo- desty might easily be mistaken for bashfulness ; as through life he had much of a downcast look, holding his eyes inclined to the earth, except when Avarmly en- gaged in conversation ; then they would beam most ex- pressively ; and when addressing an audience from the pulpit, they would " pry through the portals of the head," 'V'fl jrive a thrilling emphasis to the lanaruao-e of his lins. 12 MEMOIR or Mr. Payson's classmate, just quoted, and who also occupied the same rooms with him during the whole period of his residence at college, bears decided testi- mony to the purity of his morals and the regularity of his habits, as well as other estimable qualities. With his intimate friends he was social, communicative, and peculiarly interesting and improving, and, by those who best knew him, was much beloved. He was distin- guished for his industry ; his first care always was to be master of the studies of his class, which engaged him but a short time, and then he would resume his reading. He was invariably prepared to meet his in- structor, prompt in reciting, and seldom committed a mistake. His manner of rehearsing was rapid, his tone of voice low, with a kind of instinctive shrinking from every thing which had the appearance of display. He seems to have been regarded as no more than a decent scholar by his associates and teachers generally at col- lege ; but, " after having been with him a few months, I was convinced that he possessed uncommon mental powers. Others knew not this, because they knew not the man. During the latter part of his collegiate course, as he became more knoAvn, he rose rapidly in the estimation of both the government and his class- mates, as a young man of correct morals, amiable dis- position, and respectable^ talents." The testimony of another classmate agrees with this as to the general character of the man, but is more dis- criminating and positive in reference to his merits as a scholar. " The circumstance of joining his class at an advanced standing, combined with his naturally re- tiring and unobtrusive manners, contributed, probably, to his being so little known to a large portion of his EDWARD PAYSON. 13 college contemporaries, who seemed scarcely aware that his talents were of lliat high order, by which he was soon afterwards, so eminently distinguished. Yet^ even at that early period, he manifested an energy, hardihood, and perseverance of character, which were sure indications of success, in whatever course he might eventually direct his professional pursuits. In the regular course of college studies, pur3\ied at the time of his residence at Cambridge, he maintained the reputation of a respectable scholar in every branch. Intellectual and moral philosophy were more to his taste than physical science ; yet he sustained a distin- guished rank in the higher branches of the mathema- tics, as well as natural philosophy and astronomy, at that time so unpopular, and so little understood by a large proportion of the students." It is not remem- bered, however, that there was any public recognition of distinguished merit in him at the time he com- menced Bachelor of Arts. The reputation of being "a great reader," as the phrase is often applied, is a very undesirable distinc- tion ; it is one, however, which Mr. Payson bore in common with thousands who are not the wiser for their reading. His frequent resort to the college li- brary was a theme of raillery with his fellow-students, who, at one time, represented him as having 'a ma- chine to turn over the leaves ;' and at another, as 'hav- ing left oft' taking out books, because he had read all the thousands in the alcoves of old Harvard.' Ridi- cule, in his case, was egregiously misapplied ; for, says hii constant companion in the study and in the dormi- tory, " every thing he read, he made his own. He had the strongest and most tenacious memory I ever knew» M. p. .2 14 MEMOIR OF It is truly astonishing with what rapidit)^ he could read ; now soon he could devour a large volume, and yet give the most particular and accurate account of its contents." Testimonies of the same kind might be multiplied, and confirmed by many anecdotes, which to a stranger Avould appear incredible, illustrating the power of this faculty, and the severity of those tests to which it'was subjected. CHAPTER IL Comprising a period of three years from the iinie of his leaV' ing college. Mr. Payson was graduated at Harvard University, at the commencement in 1803. Soon after leaving col- lege, he was, on recommendation, particularly of Pro- fessors Tappan and Pearson, engaged to take charge of the academy then recently established in Portland. He continued in this office for three years, at the close of which he was, by the terms of his contract, at liber- ty to resign it. Of this liberty his new views of duty, at the time, disposed him to avail himself. An employment, Avhich requires the daily repetition of nearly the same routine of duties, cannot be very prolific in incident, or very favorable to the develope- ment of those qualities which attract the public eye. Nor is it an employment in which real worth is likely to be appreciated, except by a very few ; though the igubject of this memoir is not thought to have had any EDWARD PAYSON. 15 special cause of complaint, as to the estimation in which his services were held. He acquired and sus- tained a good reputation as an instructer ; but, from a man possessing his characteristics, something more would naturally be expected. He was certainly endu- ed with a rare faculty for communicating knowledge, and with a power to awaken, and call into action, the mental energies of either youth or manhood. In the existing methods of education, hoAvever, there was much to obstruct the exercise of this power. The in- structer, who should do much more than follow the order and manner of the text-books then in use, would probably have been regarded as an empiric ; besides, the habits of society were then opposed, more than they have been since, to every thing which bore the appearance of innovation. His native diffidence, also, would have operated as a powerful restraint against venturing on any bold experiments in a sphere of ac- tion and duty in which, judging from the character and attainments of many who had filled it, little im- provement was to be expected. At this period he was but a youth ; and it is not to be supposed that he engaged in the business of in- struction, and prosecuted it with that all-absorbing in- terest and determination of purpose which distinguish- ed his ministerial career. It is, to say the least, ex- tremely doubtful whether he had felt the influence on human exertion of that principle which is indispen- sable to man's highest achievements — doing all to the glory of God. As it was, he is remembered by surviv- ing pupils with gratitude, respect, and even venera- tion. He has left, as will be seen, sufficient evidence of his deep solicitude for their moral and religious wel 16 MEMOIR OF fare, from the time at which he was comfortably as- sured o( his own " acceptance in the Beloved." It would seem, from some allusions in his sermons, as well as from hints derived from other sources, that, during the early part of his residence in Portland, he indulged himself in such amusements as Vv'ere fashion- able, or were considered reputable, and that, too, with a gust as exquisite as their most hearty devotee — how frequently, or to what extent, the writer is ignorant. This practice, if it were more than occasional, would indicate a relish for social pleasures, in the usual sense of the expression, which did not long continue ; for, after his seriousness became habitual, he was averse to going into company, even to a fault. He dreaded an invitation to a social party, though he had reason to expect nothing there directly offensive to religious feelings. But there were companions whose society be sought, and whose intercourse was so regulated as to subserve mutual improvement. They were select literary friends, some of them his classmates, whose fellowship Avas in a high degree intimate and endear- ing. With these he passed many pleasant and profit- able hours, and cemented a friendship which conti- nued till death, and which has been faithfully recipro- cated by the surviving members of the little band, and continues to exhibit itself in unfeigned respect for his precious memory. The exercises of these meetings were not subjected to any very rigid and formal regu- lations, such as would have cramped the energies of the mind, or restrained even its wilder sallies. Mu- tual^onfidence was the bond of union, which no seve- rity of retort or piquancy of raillery could sunder. Each brought forward the results of his reading or invention, EDWARD PAYSON. 17 and exercised his powers at discussion or free conver- sation; and, by this "action of mind upon mind," the most brilliant flashes of wit were often struck from one so full charged, and so quick at combination as Pay- son's, to the no small entertainment of his companions. Of these intellectual banquets, his contributions were the most coveted and exquisite portion. But no distance, employment, or friendships could weaken his attachment to the paternal home, or di- minish the strength of his filial love. Some extracts from his letters will now be given, which, while they exhibit the son and the brother in the most amiable light, will serve also to illustrate some of his intellec- tual qualities. They are addressed to his "Ever Dear andjHonored Parents." " Portland, May 20, 1804. " It is not the least among the distressing circum- stances attending the late afflicting dispensation of Providence, that I am unable in person to share in your grief, and alleviate, by filial sympathy and affection, the keenness of your sorrow. I would fain attempt to afford you some consolation ; but the only sources whence it can be derived are already your own. I can only say for myself— it shall ever be my endeavor, that, so far as my exertions can avail, you shall not feel his loss ; and that we, who remain, will strive to fill, by our increased duty, reverence, and affection, the pain- ful void thus made in your happiness." " January 14, 1805. "I congratulate you both on the welcome news, which mv sister gave me, of your amended health and M. P. ' 2* 18 MEMOin OF spirits. Mine, I feel, flow -with double rapidity since I received her letter. I witness, in fancy, the happiness of home, and long to participate and increase it ; but for the present must be content with rejoicing alone. I cannot possibly plead guilty to the charge of 'not thinking of home, so often as home does of me.' On the contrary, I believe home has very little due on that score, if we consider the frequency, and not the value, of the thoughts. But, my dear Parents, if a few of those thoughts could be imbodied on paper, and sent me, how much m.ore good they would do, and how much more pleasure they would communicate, than if they were to remain in their native place ! " I am still without an assistant, and as the number of students has been increased, my task is very labo- rious. However, I shall soon be supplied. — Just now I was interrupted. It was my assistant. He is young and raw ; but so much the better. He will not render me small by comparison! "I had a pleasant vacation. All my classmates who are in the district, five in number, met at the house of one of them. The recollection of past scenes was, as Ossian says, ' pleasant and mournful to the soul.' There is, however, very little satisfaction in recalling' past pleasures to mind ; that is, what is generally called pleasure." " September 8, 1805. "The distress I felt at partmg with you was soon banished by the garrulity of my companion, whose chattering tongue for once afforded me pleasure, and, besides, freed m.e from the necessity of talking, for which I felt not very well qualified. 1 once thought it EDWARD PAYSON. 1& was impossible for my filial affection to be increased ; out the kindness which first gave birth to it increases every visit I make, and that must increase with it. Were others blessed with friends like mine, how much greater would be the sum of virtue and happi- ness on earth than we have reason to fear it is at pre- sent. Why cannot other parents learn your art of mixing the friend with the parent? of joining friend- ship to filial affection, and of conciliating love, without losing respect ? — an art of more importance to society, and more difficult to learn, — at least, if we may judge by the rareness w4th which it is found, — than any other ; and an art which you, my dear parents, cer- tainly have in perfection. "We had a tolerably pleasant journey, and were re- ceived with kindness by Mrs. , and w^ith polite- ness, at least, by the rest of the family. After the oth- ers were retired, Col. kept me up till past eleven, explaining, as well as T could, the difference between the various sects of religion, especially between Arnii- nians and Calvinists. * * * * " W^e had a long passage, but met with no accident, except tliat I carried away my hat — to use a sea- phrase — that is, the wind carried it aAvay, and, there being no one on board that would, fit me, I was two days on the w^ater exposed to a burning sun, without shelter ; in consequence, my face was scorched pretty severely." ^^ September 20, \^{)o, " I sadly suspect that this plan of numbering ray Bpistles will prove your deficiency, and my attention, m a manner very honorable to myself, and *iol very 20 MEMOIR OF much so to my good friends at home. This is my fourth^ and not one have I received, nor do I expect one this long time. However, I say not this by way of complaint. Your kindness, when I was at home, proved your affection beyond a doubt ; and if I should not receive one letter this year, I should have no right to complain. Yet, though not of right, I may of favor entreat for a few occasional tokens of remembrance. I have as yet scarcely recovered from the inflation and pride your goodness occasioned. The attention 1 re- ceived led me to suppose myself a person of no small consequence ; however, a month's dieting on cold ci- vility and formal politeness will, I hope, reduce me to my former size. In the meantime, I am convinced that my situation here is not so much worse than any other as I imagined." The following letter describes a scene in a stage- coach. Those who have witnessed the writer's une- qualled command of language, and power to accumu- late facts and imagery to give it effect, will most readily conceive of the overwhelming torrent of satire which he must have poured forth on the occasion described. Travelers have often brought themselves into a highly mortifying dilemma by allowing free license to their tongues among strangers. It was happy for the hero in this adventure, that he expended his forces upon a legitimate subject of raillery. " Portland, Oct. 8, 1805. 'My DEAREST Father, "In hopes of rescuing you one moment from the crowd of cares and occupations which surround you. EDWARD FAYS0:N. 21 I will give you an anecdote of ray journey ; and if you condescend to smile over it, why so much the better. When seated in a company of strange phizzes, I im- mediately set myself to decipher them, and assign a character and occupation to the owner of each. But in the stage which conveyed roe to B*****, there was one which completely puzzled me. I could think of no employment that would fit it, except that of a ******* representative, unless it was that of **********j whose pride, being confined in B. by the pressure of wealth and talents, had now room to expand itself. A cer- tain kind of consequential gravity and pompous so- lemnity, together with his dress, might perhaps have impressed us with respect, had not a pair of rough, cal- lous hands, with crooked, dirty nails, lessened their ef- fect. During a pause in the conversation, he presented me with a paper, which, on examination, I found to be one of those quack advertisements which Mr. **** has honored with his signature. Not suspecting in the least that the good gentleman had any concern in the business, and feeling a fine flow of words at hand, I began to entertain my fellow-travelers with its nume- rous beauties of expression, spelling, and grammar. Finding them very attentive, and encouraged by their applause, I next proceeded to utter a most violent phi- lippic against quacks of all denominations, especially those who go about poisoning the ignorant with patent medicines. I could not help observing, however, that my eloquence, while it had a powerful effect on the muscles of the rest of my companions, seemed to be thrown away on this gentleman aforesaid. But, con- cluding that his gravity proceeded from a wish to keep up his dignity, I resolved to conquer it; and com- «« * MEMOIR OP menced a fresh attack, in which, addressing myself entirely to him, I poured forth all the ridicule and abuse which my own imagination could suggest, oi memory could supply — but all in vain— the more ani mated and witty I was, the more doleful he looked, till, having talked myself out of breath, and finding the lon- gitude cf his face increase every moment, I desisted, very much mortified that my efibrts were so unsuc- cessful. But, in the midst of my chagrin, the coach stopped, the gentleman alighted, and was welcomed, by a little squab wife into a shop, decorated with the letters, 'Medical Cordial Store.' I afterwards learnt he is the greatest quack-medicine seller in B. Excuse me, my dear father, for this long, dull story. I thought it would be shorter. I feel rather out of tune for em- bellishing to-day. " We have lately been in a hubbub here about a theatre. After a great deal of dispute, the town voted, to the astonishment of all, that they would not, if they could help it, suifer the establishment of a theatre. One man said, and said publicly, that he considered it as much a duty to carry his children to a play-house, as he did to carry them to meeting, and that they got more good by it. Among the arguments in favor, it was asserted, that, though bad plays vrere sometimes acted, bad sermons were likewise preached, and that the pul- pit ought to be pulled down as much as the theatre. Adieu, my dear father, and believe me your most af- fectionate son, Edward Payson." " October 29, 1805. " I must, my dear mother, give you some account of my comforts. In the first place, I hav^ a very hand- EDWARD PAYSON. 23 some chamber, which commands a delightful view of the harbor and the town, with the adjacent country. This chamber is sacred ; for even the master of the house does not enter it without express invitation. At sunrise a servant comes and lights up a fire, which soon induces me to rise, and I have nothing to do but sit down to study. When I come from school at night, I find a fire built, jack and slippers ready, a lamp as soon as it is dark, and fuel sufficient for the evening. An agreement with a neighboring bookseller furnishes me with books in plenty and variety. The objection to our meals is, they are too good, and consist of too great a variety. And what gives a zest to all, without which it would be insipid, is, that I can look round me and view all these comforts as the effects of infi- nite, unmerited goodness ; of goodness, the operations of which I can trace through all my past life ; of good- ness, which I humbly hope and trust will continue to bless me through all my future existence." " November 18, 1805. " My dear Mother, " I last night witnessed a scene to which I had be- fore been a stranger ; it was a death-bed scene. A young gentleman of my acquaintance, and nearly of my own age, had been confined thirty-two days, and I was requested to watch with him ; and a more exqui- sitely distressing task I hope never to undertake. When I went, there was little, if any hope of his life. His mother — whose favorite he deservedly was — though she is, I believe, a sincere Christian, seemed unable to support the idea of a separation. Fatigue and loss of sleep made her light-headed; and, at times, she m MEMOIR 07 raved almost as badly as the patient. His sister, a gay, thoughtless girl, Avas in a paroxysm of loud and tur- bulent grief; while a young lady, whom he was ex- pecting to marry, heightened the distress by marks of anguish too strong to be -concealed, and which seemed to flow from tenderness equal to any thing I have met with in romance. As I had seen nothing of the kind before, its effects on my feelings were irresistible. The perpetual groans and ravings of the dying — whose head I was for hours obliged to support with one hand while I wiped oft' the sweat of deatli with the other ; the inarticulate expressions of anguish, mingled with the prayers of the mother ; the loud and bitter lamentations of the sister ; the stifled agonies of the young lady, and the cries of the younger branches of the family, (the father was asleep!) formed a combination of sounds which I could scarcely support. Add to this the fright- ful contortions and apparent agonies of the poor suf- ferer, with all the symptoms of approaching death. About two o'clock he died. I then had the no less dif ficult and painful task of endeavoring to quiet the fa- mily. The mother, when convinced he was certainly dead, became composed, and, with much persuasion and some force, was prevailed upon to take her bed, as were the rest of the family, except the young lady. " You will not wonder if I feel to-day exhausted in body and mind. Surely there is no torture like seeing distress without the ability of removing it. All day have I heard the dying groans sounding in my ears. I could not have believed it possible that any thing could take such astonishing hold of the mind ; and, un- less you can remember the first death you ever wit- nessed, you can never conceive how it affected me. EDWARD PAYSON. 25 But, distressing as it was, I would not for any thing have been absent. I hope it will be of service to me. It is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of mirth. Grief has a strong tendency to soften the heart, and dispose it to gratitude and other affec- tions. An instance of this I saw in this family. They are so grateful to me for — I don't know what — that ihey seem unable to thank me enough." ^^ January 25, 1806. "I had a letter from ****** last evening. He is in the West Indies, and has just recovered from a fever. His letter is more friendly than any I have received, but it is not so serious as I wish. You prophesied, when I was at home, that our friendship would not last long ; but since it has survived a visit to the Ca- taract of Niagara, to Saratoga Springs, and a voyage to the West Indies, it is something of a proof that many waters cannot quench, neither floods drown it. " A classmate, who has commenced preaching, call- ed last week to see me. Speaking of an old tutor of ours, a very pious man, who has lately lost a much loved wife, he mentioned a letter written by him, in which he says, ' The bell is now tolling for my wife's funeral ; yet I am happy, happy beyond expression.' This my classmate considered as a sure proof of a very weak or very insensible mind. It is needless to add, that he rejects evangelical religion, of the truth and reality of which I am daily more and more con- vinced. But I cannot wonder so few embrace it ; so long as the reasonings of the head continue to be influenced by the feelings of the heart, men will reject it." 3 86 MEMOIR OP " February 9, ISOG. "You need be under no apprehension, my dear mo- ther, that my present mode of living will render thr manner of living in the most rustic neighborhood dis- agreeable. On the contrary, I shall be glad of the ex- change, as it respects diet ; for I find it no easy matter to sit down to a table profusely spread with dainties, and take no more than nature requires and temperance allows. And I should have infinitely more satisfac- tion in the conversation of a plain, unlettered Chris- tian, than in the unmeaning tattle of the drawing- room, or the flippant vivacity of professed wits. What gives me most uneasiness, and what I fear will al- ways be a thorn in my path, is, too great a thirst for applause. When I sit down to write, I perpetually catch myself considering, not wjiat will be most use- ful, but what will be most likely to gain praise from an audience. If I should be unpopular, it would, 1 fear, give me more uneasiness than it ought ; and if — though I think there is little reason to fear it — I should in any degree be acceptable, Avhat a terrible blaze it would make in my bosom ! What a temptation this disposition will be to suppress, or lightly touch upon those doctrines which are most important, because they are disagreeable to most persons ! I should at once give up in despair, had I nothing but m.y own philosophy to depend on ; but I hope and trust I shall be enabled to conquer it. "If you knew the many things which rendered it unlikely that I should continue here half so long as I have, you would join with me in thinking an over- ruling Providence very visible in the whole affair. With respect to continuing longer, I do not mean to EDWARD PAYSON. 27 form a single plaa on the subject. If I know any thing of my own heart. I can appeal to God as a wit- ness of my earnest desire to be in the situation where he sees best to place me, without any regard to its be- ing agreeable or disagreeable ; and he can, and, I doubt not, will order matters so as to shorten or prolong my stay here as he pleases." '^January 15, 1806. " If you, my dear mother, can pick out the meaning in the last page, I shall be glad ; for in truth it is but poorly expressed. You must have observed that my letters are very obscure ; that the transitions from one subject to another are rapid and capricious. The rea- son of this confusion is, — when I sit down to write, forty ideas jump at once, all equally eager to get out, and jostle and incommode each other at such a rate, that not the most proper, but the strongest, escapes first. My mind would fain pour itself all out at once. So much by way of apology, by which, as is usually the case with apologies, I have only made bad worse." " April 2, 1806. " My dear Mother, "I have just received your last paquet. and am so rejoiced I can hardly sit still enough to write. They were not half long enough to satiate me, and I am more hungry than before. Yesterday, in order to ap- pease my hunger, I read over all the letters I have re- ceived this year past, to my great satisfaction. You must not expect method nor legible writing. These qualifications are necessary in a billet of compliments, but in a letter to friends, I despise them. However, if my good friends are fond of them, and prefer them 28 MEMOIR OF to the rapid effusions of atTection that will hardly wait the pen's motion, I will soon write a letter that shall be as cold and as splendid as an ice-palace. You may usually observe my hand-writing is much belter at the beginning than at the end of my letters ; and this happens because I gather warmth as I write. A letter to a friend, Avritten with exact care, is like — ' Madam, I hope I have the pleasure of seeing you in very good health," — addressed to a mother, on meet- ing her after a years absence. "I did not recollect that I made use of a billet to enclose my letters. However, I suppose it did just as well. Pray give my love to Phillips, (with the rest of the dear clan,) and tell him, that, instead ot being a sign of poverty, it is the surest way to be rich, to save even the cover of a letter ; besides, I have pa- pa's authority for using billets in that way." These extracts show how he appreciated the rela- tions of son and brother, and how just he was to all the claims which these relations involve. His filial affection is among the loveliest traits in his character, and it never suffered any abatement, so long as he had a parent to love. He continued to appropriate, unask- ed, and of choice, the excess of his earnings above his expenditures, to the use of his parents, till the whole amount expended for his education had been reim- bursed. By word and deed, in the thousand ways which affection suggests, he sought their comfort and happiness. It was not till the third year of his residence in Portland, that he made his first appearance before a popular assembly. On the 4th of July, 1806, at the EDWARD PAYSON. 29 t-equest of the municipal authorities of the town, he pronounced the anniversary oration, — a performance which secured him unbounded applause, and which he was solicited, with great earnestness, to allow to be published ; but no persuasion could induce him to give a copy. CHAPTER III. IRs religious history during the period einbraced in t/ie pre* ceding chapter. From the early part of 1804, religion seems to have been his all-engrossing concern ; his attention was then arrested, and fixed so as never afterwards to be diverted, for any length of time, from the subject. Whether he had been in an unconverted, or backslid- den state, he Avas then roused, as from sleep, to take a solemn view of his relations as an accountable and immortal being. The occasion of this new or revived concern for his soul was the death of a beloved bro- ther. A letter to his parents, in answer to one which announced the sorrowful tidings, is the earliest pro- duction of his pen, which has escaped oblivion, and, on this account alone, will be read with interest. But it has a higher value, as it enables us to date the com- mencement of his attention to his spiritual interests as far back as May 20, 1804,* the time when his letter *It has been stated, on credible authority, that Dr. Paysoa was so much affected by this bereavement, that he coDfined M. P. 3* 30 MEMOIR OF was dated, and it more than intimates that the subject with him was not new. " My dear mother's fears respecting my attention to religious concerns were, alas ! but too well founded. Infatuated by the pleasures and amusements which this place affords, and which took the more powerful hold on my senses from being adorned with a refinement to which I had before been a stranger, I gradually grew cold and indifferent to religion ; and, though I still made attempts to reform, they were too transient to be effectual. "From this careless frame nothing but a shock like that I have received could have roused me ; and though my deceitful heart will, I fear, draw me back again into the snare, as soon a-s the first impression is worn off, yet I hope, by the assistance of divine grace, that this dispensation will prove of eternal benefit. This is my most earnest prayer, and I know it will be yours. " In reflecting on the ends of Divine Providence m this event, I am greatly distressed. To you, my dear parents, it could not be necessary. My sister, as you sometime since informed me, has turned her attention to religion ; the other children are too young to receive benefit from it. It remains, then, that I am the Achan who has drawn down this punishment, and occasion- ed this distress to my friends. My careless, obdurate heart rendered it necessary to punish and humble it himself to his chamber for three days; and that, previously to this period, he h.u! purposed to devote himself to the profes sion of the law. If so, the affliction was no less a mercy to the church than to himself. " God is his own interpreter.'* EDWARD PATSON. 31 and O that the' punishment had fallen where it was due ! But I can pursue the subject no further." Here is the subdued tone of the penitent, " come to himself, and returning to his Father." Of his progress in piety for the next six months, nothing is known ex- cept what may be inferred from a letter dated Dec. 12th of the same year. An extract will show that he was not inattentive to what passed in his own heart, nor without experience in the Christian conflict. " I have nothing but complaints of myself to make, nothing but the same old story of erring and repent- ing, but never reforming. I fear I am in a sad way. I attend public worship and think of every subject but the proper one ; or if, by strong exertions, I fix my at- tention for a few minutes, I feel an irresistible pro- pensity to criticise the preacher, instead of attending to the instructions ; and, notwithstanding a full con- viction that this conduct is wrong, I persist in it still. Hence it happens that the Sabbath, which is so ad- mirably calculated to keep alive a sense of religion, becomes a stumbling-block. The thought of my sin- ful neglect and inattention so shames and distresses me, that I am unable to approach the throne of grace, through shame. As this, I know, is the fruit of a self-righteous spirit, I strive against it ; and after two or three days, perhaps, am enabled to trust in Christ for the pardon of that and other sins. But, another Sabbath, the same round is repeated. Thus I go on, sinning and humbling myself after long seeking for a proper sense of my sin, then confessing it with con- trition and remorse ; and, the next moment, even while the joy of obtained pardon and gratitude for divine favor is thrilling in my hearty plunging, on the most 3!3 MEMOIR or trivial temptation, into the same error, whose bitter consequences I had so lately felt. Shame and remorse for the ungrateful returns I have made for the bless- ings bestowed, prevent secret prayer, frequently for two or three days together, until I can no longer sup- port it ; and though I have so often experienced for- giving love, I am too proud to ask for it." A few weeks afterwards he writes thus : — " I feel convinced by experience, that, if I relax my exertions for ever so short a time, it will require additional ex- ertions to repair it, and perhaps occasion a week's gloom and despondency ; yet the least temptation leads me to do what I feel conscious, at the time, I shall severely smart for. In the impracticable attempt to reconcile God and the world, I spend my time very unhappily, neither enjoying the comforts of this world nor of religion. But I have at last determined to re- nounce the false pleasures for which I pay so dear ; and this I should have done long ago, but for the advice and example of some whose judgment I respected. " I have lately been severely tried with doubts and difficulties respecting many parts of Scripture. Read- ing the other day, I met -with this passage, 'for his great name's sake.' It was immediately suggested to my mind, that, as the Deity bestowed all his favor on us ' for his great name's sake,' we were under no ob- ligation to feel grateful for them. And though my heart assented to the propriety of gratitude, my head would not. In hearing my scholars recite the Greek Testa- ment, I am disturbed by numberless seeming incon- sistencies and doubts, which, though they do not shake my belief, render me for a time extremely miserable. I find no relief, in these trials, from the treatises which EDWARD PAYSON. 33 have been written in proof of the truth of revelation. It is from a different source that assistance is received." " April 20, 1805. " My dearest Mother, " I have just been perusing something excessively interesting to my feelings. It is a short extract from your journal in my sister's letter. Surely it is my own fault that I do not resemble Samuel in more instances than one. What a disgrace to me, that, with such rare and mestimable advantages, I have made no greater progress ! However, thanks to the fervent, effectual prayer of my righteous parents, and the tender mercies of my God upon me, I have reason to hope that the pious wishes breathed over my infant head are in some measure fulfilled ; nor would I exchange the be- nefits which I have received from my parents for the inheritance of any monarch* in the universe. " I feel inclined to hope that I am progressing, though by slow and imperceptible degrees, in the knowledge of divine things. On comparing my former and present views, I find that the latter are much less confused and perplexed ; that I have clearer concep- tions of my utter inability to take a single step in reli- gion without divine assistance, of the consequent ne- cessity of a Savior, and of the way of salvation by him. Yet I cannot find that my conduct, my heart, or * The admirers of Cowper — between whom and the subject if this Memoir there are several strong points of resemblance —will be reminded, at once, of those beautiful lines : " My boast is not that I deduce my birth " From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth, *' But higher far my proud pretensions rise — " The son of parents passed into the skies." 34 MEMOIR OP disposition, is made better. On the contrary, I fear they are worse than ever." June 12, 1805. " I find I have been trying to establish a righ- teousness of my own, though till lately I thought my- self free from any such design. Hence arose all that umvillingness to perform the public and private exer- cises of devotion which I felt after any neglect of duty. I wanted, forsooth, to be encouraged to hope for an answer of peace by some merits of my own, and so felt unwilling to approach the throne of grace when I had been guilty of any thing which lessened my stock of goodness. In short, it was the same kind of reluctance which I should feel to approach a fellow being whom I had injured. And this, which I now see arose from pride, I fondly thought was the efliect of great humility. Finding myself so deceived here, and in numberless other instances, I am utterly at a loss what to do. If I attempt to perform any duty, 1 am afraid it is only an attempt to build up a fabric of my own ; and if I neglect it, the case is still worse. " Since the period of my leaving home for Cam- bridge, it has appeared the most discouraging circum- stance attending the spread of religion, that many who undertake to preach it are so shamefully negligent. Oi this, my dear mother, you can form no just idea, un less you have heard them. While their hearers are wishing and longing for spiritual food, they are obliged to rest content with cold, dry lectures on morality, en- forced by any motives rather than evangelical. These EDWARD PAY SON. 35 ministers content themselves, generally, with pruning off some of the most prominent excrescences of vice ; they leave the root untouched, and cut off only the leaves. The more I think of it, the more difficult does the duty appear ; and I tremble at the thought of in- curring such a responsibility. I fear, however, that part of my reluctance arises from an indolent disposi- tion, from an unwillingness to encounter the fatigues, the difficulties and dangers attending the performance of a clergyman's duty. I am afraid of conferring too much with flesh and blood." The next notices which he has left of himself are found in a manuscript volume, written in characters which it has been a long and difficult work to deci- pher. The following are the first two paragraphs : — ^'■July 25, 1805. This day, being my twenty-second birth-day, I have determined to commence a diary, as a check on the misemployment of time." Same date. " Having resolved this day to dedicate myself to my Creator, in a serious and solemn manner, by a written covenant, I took a review of my past life, and of the numerous mercies by which it has been dis- tinguished. Then, with sincerity, as I humbly hope, I took the Lord to be my God, and engaged to love, serve, and obey him. Relying on the assistance of his Koly Spirit, I engaged to take the Holy Scriptures as ihe rule of my conduct, the Lord Jesus Christ to be my Savior, and the Spirit of ail grace and consolation as my Guide and Sanctifier. The vows of God are upon me." Subsequent entries in his diary show an ever-active desire to " pay the vows which his lips had uttered." 36 MEMOIR OP He made strenuous efforts to redeem the mornmg hours from sleep, that he might enjoy an uninterrupted sea- son for reading tiie Scriptures, and other devotional exercises; and, when he failed of this, he suftered much in consequence, and lamented it with deep feel- ing. His diligence in business, as well as fervor of spirit, are abundantly apparent from the account which he has given of the employment of every hour, from four in the morning to ten at night. — In a letter to his parents, written on this anniversary, he speaks of hav- mg already "paid considerable attention to divinity," and of expecting, '' in another year, to commence preaching, if he should feel competent to such an un- dertaking." '•Portland, July 25, 1805. " My dear Parent , " This day, which completes my twenty-second year renews the remembrance of the numerous claims your continued care and kindness have on my gratitude and affection. To you, next to my heavenly Father, I owe that I exist, that I am in a situation to support myself, and, what is a still greater obligation, to your admo- nitions and instructions I am indebted for all the moral and religious impressions which are imprinted in my mind, and which, I hope, under God, will give me reason to love and bless you through eternity. How can I feel sufficient gratitude to the Giver of all good for blessing me with such parents ! and how can I thank you sufficiently for all the kindness you have lavished upon me, as yet without return ! But it shall be the study of my life to show that I am not utterly devoid of every sentiment of gratitude and duty. Par EDWARD PAYSON. 37 don me, my dearest parents, for all the pain, the trou- ble, and anxiety 1 have given you, and believe me while I promise never knowingly to be guilty of any thing to increase the uneasiness I have already occa- sioned you. I consider it as one of my greatest bless- ings, that I am noAV in a situation which prevents my being a charge to you, and which, besides, might en- able me, in case of misfortune, to repay some small part of the kindness I have received. I, with all 1 do or may possess, am your property, for you alone put me in a situation to obtain it. And if there be any thing (as I doubt not there is) which could contribute to your happiness, in my power to procure fey you, I most earnestly entreat you to let me know it ; and if I do not with the utmost pleasure comply, cast me off as an ungrateful wretch, utterly unworthy of your kind- ness and affection." Mr. Payson made a public profession of religion September 1, 1S05. He connected himself originally with the church in R.indge, under the pastoral care of his father, while on a visit to his parents during one of his quarterly vacations. Of his exercises in the near prospect of this solemn a^t, not a memorial remains. The only direct allusion to thj^? public dedication of himself to God, is in a letter to his mother, written a short time afterwards, in which he says — " As yet I have no reason to repent of the step I took while at home. On tKe contrary, I esteem it a great blessing that no obstacles prevented it." He adds, "I have felt wondrous brave and resolute since my return ; but I rejoice with trembling. If I know any thing of my- self, I shall need pretty severe discipline through life; M. p. 4 38 MEMOIR or and I often shrink at the thought of the conflicts that await me, but am encouraged by the promise that my strength shall be equal to my day." Never were ap- prehensions and hopes more si^sfnally realized. He who " tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," however, reserved the bitterest trials for a confirxTied state of re- ligious experience, mercifully indulging" his servant with the light of his countenance, and a peaceful and happy progress in his pilgrimage, in its earliest stages, October 6th, he writes — " I know it will add to your happiness, my dear mother, to hear that I possess a large quantity of that desirable commodity. Since my return firom Rindge, bating a few disagreeable days after parting with my friends, I have hardly known one unhappy moment. The doubts which formerly ob- scured my mind are dissipated, and I have enjoyed, and do still enjoy, mental peace, and, at times, happi- ness inexpressible. When I am thus happy, it renders me so benevolent that I want to make every one par- take of it, and can hardly forbear preaching to every man I see. At the same time, the thought of what I deserve, compared with what I enjoy, humbles me to the dust ; and the lower I get, the more happy do I feel ; and then I am so full of gratitude and love, I can hardly support it. My only source of unhappi- ness, at such times, is the moral certainty that I shall again offend that C4od who is so infinitely, so conde- scendingly kind. This, indeed, seems impossible at the time ; it then seems that worldly objects cannot possibly again acquire an undue influence over my mind. * * * * To think that I shall again become cold and inanimate, that I shall again offend and grieve the Holy Spirit, and perhaps be left openly to disho- EDWARD PAYSON. 39 nor the holy name by which I am called — my dear mother, how distressing !" " October 29. " These worldly comforts are nothing to the serenity and peace of mind with which I am favored, and the happiness arising from love, gratitude, and confidence. Even contrition and remorse for having slighted so long such infinite and condescending mer- cy, is not without a pleasing kind of pain. But I know this state of things is too good to continue long ; and I hope I shall be enabled to take up with a much smaller number of the comforts of life without mur- muring." In a letter, dated November 11th, he says, " The happiness I mentioned in my last, and in which you so kindly participate, I still enjoy, though dimin- ished, in some degree, by an examination I have been making respecting some important but perplexiiig truths." Some weeks after this he wrote — " I did not intend to say another word about my feelings ; but I must, or else cease writing. I am so happy that I cannot possibly thmk nor write of any thing else. Such a glorious, beautiful, consistent scheme for the redemp- tion of such miserable wretches ! — such infinite love and goodness, joined with such wisdom ! I would, if possible, raise my voice so that the whole universe, to its remotest bounds, might hear me, if any language could be found worthy of such a subject. How trans- porting, and yet how humiliating, are the displays of divine goodness, which, at some favored moments, we feel ! what happmess in humbling ourselves in the dust, and confessing our sins and unworthiness !" 40 MEMOIR OF A solicitude for the spiritual welfare of others, which is among the early fruits of experimental religion, and one of the most pleasing evidences of its existence, was, in Mr. Payson, coeval with his profession of the faith and hope of the Gospel. Of this his pupils, as was to be expected, were always the most interesting objects. — September 20tli he writes — " Last Saturday I gave my scholars six questions in the catechism and a hymn to commit to memory on the Sabbath ; and, on Monday morning, after hearing them recite, I lec- tured them on the subjects about three quarters of an hour. They paid strict attention. It is, however, dis- couraging to attempt any thing of this kind, and a most lively faith alone can make it otherwise. Is it not astonishing, that those who have a just sense of the importance of religion are not more earnest in re- commending it to others ? One would suppose they could hardly refrain from preaching to them in the streets. The reason we do not is, we have not a just sense of it." " October 29. " I hope your narrative — for which I thank you — will have a tendency to stir me up. I feel a strong and abid- ing impression on my mind, that all the good I enjoy my friends were stirred up to pray for ; and I hope that my scholars also, in this case, will reap the benefit, When I look at them, and reflect how many dangers they are exposed to, what bad examples even the pa- rents of many set "them, and how few hear any thing like religious instruction, I cannot express my feelings. Lately I feel a great flow of words when addressing them ; however, it is just like sjjeaking to dry bones, unless a divine blessing assist. If I could be the means EDWARD PAYSON. 41 of doing good only to one, what transport ! Thank God, it does not depend on the means, but on himself; otherwise I should give up in despair." " January 15, 1806. " This morning I was highly favored in speaking to my scholars. I spoke nearly three quarters of an hour with some earnestness, though not so much as I could have wished. Except once, I have felt a very considerable share of freedom on these occasions. Your mentioning that you were enabled to pray for a blessing on these poor endeavors has been a great en- couragement to me. They are attentive, and a very perceptible difference has taken place in their attention to their studies. I hope that, sooner or later, they will become attentive to more important pursuits. I am al- most afraid to write even to you, my dear mother, on these subjects, lest I should make some gross blunder, through my ignorance and inexperience. I have often observed, that persons Avho begin to read late in life are apt to think every thing thsy meet with in books as new to others as it is to them, and so make them- selves ridiculous by retailing, as novelty, what every one knew before. In like manner, I am somewhat ap- prehensive of appearing to you, in mentioning my own feelings, as one who is detailing last year's news; for your ideas and feelings must be so far beyond mine,, that it will require some patience to read my relations. However, I trust to your goodness, and hope you will remember, that many things, which are now plain and common, were once dark and unusual to you. I am pursuing my studies pretty much at random, having no person to advise with." M. P. 4* 42 MEMOIR OF This anxiety for the souls of his fellow-creatures marked his intercourse with associates of the same standing with himself. One of his valued companions in literary pursuits has furnished the following ex- tracts from his pen : "^ " December 2, 1805. " There is no worldly blessing that is not heightened by religion, but none more so than friendship, whether it be between relatives by consanguinity, or those who are joined in marriage, or other friends. The idea of parting must imbitter the pleasure of the man of the world ; but the Christian, if he has chosen his friends aright, may hope to enjoy their society with more plea- sure hereafter than he can now. For this reason I never should choose a partner for life whom I could not hope to meet beyond the tomb." " December 9. " You ascribe, my friend, too much to age and a cul- tivated mind, when you speak of them as inconsistent with a ' stupid blindness respecting futurity.' Sad ex- perience shows that age the most mature, and minds the most cultivated, are too often under the operation of such a blindness. Who, among the walks of sci- ence, ambition, avarice, or pleasure, is not blind to his own mortality ? Who is there that sees that every hour of his life he infringes that law which says — ' cursed is every one that continueth not in all things written therein to do them ?' Who sees that his brittle thread of life is all on which he hangs over endless misery ; and that, if any one of the many dangers to which he is exposed should be permitted to crush him. EDWARD PAYSON. 43 he would, in a moment, be the subject of despair ? No age, no improvement of the mind, will make us see these truths to be such. We may assent to them, but our conduct shows we do not believe them. You do not yet, my friend, know the difficulty of the task. Consider, first, that the divine law extends to the thoughts, and that it makes no allowance for human infirmity, and then shut yourself up alone, oiit of the reach of temptation, and try for one hour to be inno- cent, and you will find, by the numberless foolish thoughts and vicious propensities arising in your mind, that it is no easy thing to be negatively good. When, in addition to this, you consider that sins of omission are equaUy fatal with sins of commission, you must certainly, if you know any thing of your own heart, give up in despair. I write this not to discourage you, but to urge the immediate commencement of a work so difficult and so important ; and still more to induce you to apply to One who can give you strength, and will give it, if asked for in a full conviction of your own weakness. You know nothing of your own heart; and, though you may not assent to this now, the time, I hope and trust, will come, when you will assent to it. You may not now believe that naturally, like all others, you are an enemy to God and his goodness — but you must assent to it." " May 8. " Take my word for it, there is inexpressibly more enjoyment in religion, in this life, than the most hap- py sinner since creation ever had to boJist of. It ap- pears gloomy at a distance, but, the nearer it approaches the more delightful it becomes. You know that I am of a social turn, that I enjoy, or did enjoy, amusements 44 MEMOIR OF about as well as others did, and that I have no parti- cular reason for flying from them. You know, too, that I love you, and would promote your interest to the ex- tent of my powers. You may then consider me, if you are so disposed, an impartial witness that the ways of wisdom are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths peace. I hope and believe that your own feelings may attest the truth of my testimony. That you may know more and more of it, is the sincere prayer of your friend." ''July 7. " I dare pledge any thing most dear to me, that, if you persist in the diligent use of the means suggested, you shall not long use them in vain. But, what is in- finitely more to the purpose, you have the oath of Him who cannot lie, on which to ground your hopes. You have nothing to do but, in the exercise of faith, to come, as the leper did to our Savior while on earth, and throw yourself at his feet, with — ' Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean ;' and rest assured that he will put forth his hand and say — ' I will ; be thou clean.' He is still as able and as willing to grant every request of this nature as he was on earth. If you really feel yourself a sinner, and that you have no power to save yourself, and are willing to accept of him as a Savior, he is ready to receive you. Do not wait, be- fore you accept his offers, to render yourself worthy of his favor by going about to establish a righteousness of your own* He will not be a half Savior. He will do all or nothing. If you mean to come to him, you must come as a helpless sinner ; not as the Pharisee, with a list of virtuous deeds performed, but as the EDWARD PAYSON. 45 publican, with — ' Lord, be merciful to me a sinner.' " On account of the station he occupied, as well as the inexhaustible fund of entertainment which he could carry into company, he was frequently solicited to make one of a visiting party, and to mingle in society on various occasions. The nature of the trials hence aris- ing, as well as their issue, will be seen from a few extracts. " After long doubting the propriety, and even the lawfulness, of mixing at all in society, where duty does not call, and after smarting a number of times for indulging myself in it — more, however, through fear of offending, than for any pleasure I find in it — I am at length brought to renounce it entirely ; and it is not a needless scrupulosity. It does appear a duty to shun all communication with the world, when there is no well-grounded reason to hope to do good. There are, to be sure, many very plausible reasons, but I doubt whether they will bear the test of Scripture." To one who urged him to go into society and fre- quent public amusements, he wrote : " Can a man walk on pitch, and his feet not be de- filed ? Can a man take coals of fire in his bosom, and his clothes not be burned ? If he can, he may then mix freely with the world, and not be contaminated. But I am not the one who can do it. I cannot think it proper or expedient for a Christian to go into any com- pany, unless necessity calls, where he may, perhaps, hear the name he loves and reverences blasphemed, or at least profaned — where that book, which he esteems the word of God, will, if mentioned, be alluded to only to waken laughter or ' adorn a tale,' — where the laws of good breeding are almost the only laws which may 46 - MEMOIR OF not be broken with impunity — and where every thing he hears or sees has a strong tendency to extinguish the glow of devotion, and entirely banish seriousness. I speak only for myself. Others may experience no bad effects ; but, for myself, when I go into company, if it is pleasant and agreeable, it has a tendency only to fix my thoughts on earth, from which it is my duty and my desire to turn them — to give me a distaste for serious duties, especially prayer and meditation ; and to render me desirous of the applause and approbation cf those with whom I associate. I cannot avoid feel- ing some desire for its friendship ; and this friendship, the apostle assures us, and my own experience feel- ingly convinces me, is enmity with God."' " I have at length obtained satisfaction respecting my doubts about society ; not, however, till I Avas brought to give it up. After I had done so, it appeared so plain and proper, that I wondered how a doubt could ever have arisen on this subject. Now, I shall hardly see a person in a week except our own family ; and I have no doubt of being much happier for it. Two or three plain rules I find of wonderful service in deciding all difficult cases. One is, to do nothing ofichich I donht in any degree the lawfulness ; the secondi, to consider every thing as unlawful which indisposes me for prayer^ and interrupts communion with God ; and the third is, never to go into any company, business^ or situation, in which I cannot conscientiously ask and expect the divine presence. By the help of these three rules I settle all my doubts in a trice, and find that many things I have hitherto indulged in, are, if not utterly unlawful, at least inexpedient, and I can renounce them without many sighs." EDWARD PAYSON- 47 His determination to exclude himself from company was very conscientiously formed ; and, so far was he from making his own practice a law for others in this matter, he expressly assigns his "weakness and in- experience " as the reason why he " could not indulge in society without detriment." Besides, situated as he was, he saw " no medium between the life of a re- cluse and that of a votary of pleasure.*' If such were the alternative, his decision is to be approved. It re- sulted from a right application of his " th.ee plain rules," which are certainly Scriptural, and worthy of universal adoption. This course was not the fruit of misanthropic feelings ; for no man was more suscep- tible of the delights of friendship, or more highly ap- preciated its benefits ; but how " can two walk toge- ther except they be agreed ?" His heart now sighed for friendships founded on a religious basis. He speaks of " a friend, w^th whom he could converse on religious subjects, as having long been a desideratum;" and when he thought he had found such a one among his former beloved associates, he expresses the most ar- dent gratitude to the Giver of every good gift. " 1 feel a satisfaction," he writes, " on this discovery, similar to what I should feel at meeting a townsman in a de- sert island. You, who live in the midst of Christian friends, can hardly conceive of it. Associates are plea- sant in any pursuit, but especially so in this. Two are better than one. We shall together be better able to stand our ground against the assaults of ridicule and reproach ; and may animate and encourage each other in our course." Having, in a letter to his mother, expressed himself as ready to give almost any thing he possessed for an 48 MEMOIR OF ' experienced friend," he anticipates her reply, — "You will say, perhaps, the Bible is a friend, Avhich, if duly consulted, would supersede the necessity of any other adviser. It may be so ; but we are apt to be bad com- mentators where we are concerned ourselves. A friend can judge of our concerns, and give us better counsel than, perhaps, he would give himself. We are but poor casuists in our own affairs." Some miscellaneous extracts will now be given. " December 8, 1805. '• Though I have experienced many and great com- forts, yet I am at times almost discouraged. My heart seems to be a soil so bad, that all labor is thrown away upon it ; for, instead of growing better, it grows worse. "W hat a Vv-earisome task, or rather conflict, it is, to be always fighting with an enemy, whom no de- feats can weaken or tire. I am afraid that many of my desires to be delivered from his power proceed rather from a sinful impatience than a better source. But it is most distressing, when favored with manifestations of a Savior's love, to think Ave shall again sin against and grieve him ; especially in the sacrament of the supper, the idea that I shall certainly go away and of- fend him who is there set forth crucified before me, embitters all my happiness." " December 25. " My dear Sister, " I am not very prone to indulge the idea that my happiness can depend on change of place ; but when such fancies do gain admittance, home is always the scene of my imaginary bliss. It is, however, a remedy EDWARD PAYSON. 49 to consider, that, however we may be separated from our friends in this world, 3^et, if we choose them aright, we may indulge the hope of spending an eternity to- gether in the next. " I have of late taken some pleasure in recollecting the pilgrimages of our old friend Bunyan, and see a striking propriety in many parts of them, which I did not then rightly understand. For some time past I have been with Tender Conscience in the caves of Good Ptesolution and Contemplation, and, like him, fell into the clutches of Spiritual Pride. It is astonishing, and what nothing but sad experience could make us be- lieve, that Satan and a corrupt heart should have the art of extracting the most dangerous poison from those things which apparently v/ould, and certainly ought to have the most beneficial effects. If I do not, after all, fall into the hands of old Carnal Security, I shall have reason to be thankful. There is such a fascina- tion in the magic circle of Avorldly pleasures and pur- suits, as can hardly be conceived without experience ; and I am astonished and vexed to find its influence continually thwarting and hindering me. And so many plausible excuses are perpetually suggesting themselves, that compliance can hardly be avoided." " Ja7iiiary 25. " My DEAR Mother, " In one of the classics, which form part of my daily occupation, there is an account of a tyrant who used to torture his subjects by binding them to dead bodies, and leaving them to perish by an unnatural and pain- ful death. I have often thought the situation of a Christian is, in some respects, like that of these poor M. P. 5 50 MEMOIR or wretches. Bound to a loathsome body of sin. from which death alone can free him, and obliged daily to experience efl'ects from it not much less painful and displeasing to him than a putrefying carcass was to those who were united to it, he must suffer almost continual torment. I have lately felt doubtful how far a due resignation to the divine will obliges us to sub- mit with patience to this most painful of all trials, and, since we know that perfection is not granted to any in this world, how tar we ought to extend our prayers and wishes. I know there is little danger of being too much engaged in seeking deliverance from sin ; but is there no danger of that fretful impatience, which we are apt to feel on other occasions, gaining admittance under the appearance of an earnest desire for holiness ? And is not indolence, and a wish to be freed from the necessit}^ of continual watchfulness and conflict, apt to insinuate itself into our desires and petitions for divine assistance ? Sin is a sly traitor ; and it is but lately I discovered it in my bosom ; and now I am so much afraid of it, that I hardly dare ask assistance at all. •• For this month past. I have enjoyed verv' little of that happiness which I once rejoiced in. Yet, blessed be God ! I am not left utterly dead and stupid, and am enabled to persevere in the use of means, though they seldom seem so productive of peace as they once did. I hope I have clearer ideas of my strong, ama- zingly strong, propensity to every thing that is evil, and of the infinite and glorious sufficiency of my Sa- vior, than I had while my joys were greater. Then I was ready to flatter myself that sin was destroyed ; but now I findj by sad experience, it is not only alive, EDWARD PAY SON. 51 but extremely active ; and had I not an Almighty Helper, I should instantly give up in despair." '• Portland, Feb. 9, 1806. '' My dear Mother, " For many reasons, it is impossible that my letters ?hould be so acceptable at home as those I receive from home are to me. You have friends there to di- vide your attention, to participate in your care, and to share and increase your pleasures. But I am alone. All my affections must centre at home, and, conse- quently, I must feel a greater desire to hear from home, and to receive assurances that I am not forgotten, than my friends can possibly have to hear from me. '• I find nobody, except at times, to whom 1 can com- municate my joys, hopes, desires, and fears ; nobody who can participate my pleasures or sympathize in my griefs. It is perhaps best for me that it should be so; but it is ver}- unpleasant. Most of my acquaintance consider me, as near as I can guess, but a kind of hy- pocrite, who must, as a student in divinity, preserve a decent exterior in order to be respected. However, it is some consolation that they think the same of every one else. Their opinion is of very trifling con- sequence. One thing only I wish not to be thought, and that is. what is commonly called a rational Chris- tian, an epithet which is ver\' frequently bestowed on young candidates, and which is almost synonymous with no Christian. Liberal divines are prett\- much of the same character.-' '' Portland, April 1, 1806. " My dear Mother, " I am now entirely alone, and. except a visit once 52 MEMOIR OF a fortnight from Mr. R. I see no face within my cham- ber from one Aveek to another. It is sometimes un- pleasant, but, I believe, very profitable, to be debarred from society. I am so prone to trust to broken cisterns, that nothing but their being out of my reach can re strain me. AVhen I come home from school, weary and dull, if I had any earthly friends at hand I should certainly apply to them for relief; but, not having any, I am constrained to go where I am much more sure of finding ir. I begin to find, that the smiles with which my early infancy was supported, are changing for the less agreeable, but certainly not less needful, discipline of education ; and O what severe discipline, and how much of it, shall I require ! I see already, that hard fare and hard labor will be necessary to pre- serve me from ' waxing fat and kicking ;' and if it has this effect, I shall welcome it with pleasure. It seems to me one of the worst of the hellish offspring of fall- en nature, that it should have such a tendency to pride, and above all, spiritual pride. Hoav many artifices does it contrive to hide itself I If, at any time, I am favored with clearer discoveries of my natural and ac- quired depravity and hatefulness in the sight of God, and am enabled to mourn over it, in comes Spiritual Pride, with — ' Ay, this is something like ! this is holy mourning for sin ; this is true humility.' If I happen to detect and spurn at these thoughts, immediately he changes his battery, and begins — ' Another person would have indulged those feelings, and imagined he was really humble, but you know better ; you can de- tect and banish pride at once, as you ought to do.' Thus this hateful enemy continually harasses me. What a proof that the heart is the native soil of pride, EDWARD PAYSON. 53 when it thus contrives to gather strength from those very exercises which one would think must destroy it utterly ! " My other chief besetting sin, which will cut out abundance of work for me, is fondness for applause. When 1 sit down to write, this demon is immediately in the way, prompting to seek for such observations as will be admired, rather than such as will be felt, and have a tendency to do good. My proneness to these two evils, which I have mentioned, makes me think I shall have but little sensible comfort in this world, and that I shall be tried by many and grievous afflictions, in order to keep me humble and dependent. However, it is of no consequence. I know my great Physician is both able and willing to cure me, and I leave the manner to him ; trusting he will enable me to take whatever he prescribes, and bless the pre- scription." " Portland^ June 17, 1806. "My dear Mother, " After I have told you that I have been unwell some time past, and that I am now as well as usual, my stock of information is exhausted — imless, indeed, I still make myself the subject ; and, for want of a better, I must. Owing partly, I believe, to my ill health, I have been much afflicted with doubt, whether it is not my duty to give up preaching at all. I want, at times, to get as far back into the country as possible, and, on a little farm, lead a life as much remote from observation as circumstances will allow. It seems to me a little re- markable, that, while I am harassed with doubts and perplexities about every thing else, I feel none, or com M. P. 5^ 54 MKMOIR OP paratively none, about my own state. If at any time such doubts intrude, they are banished by that text, 'I am he that blotteth out thy transgressions, for mine oxen sake.^ But, lately, the very absence of doubt has caused me to doubt ; for if I were a child of God, how should I be free from those doubts which trouble his children ? But the greatest difficulty of all is, that the certainty which I almost ever feel of my safety, should have no more effect on my disposition and conduct. This seems to me more unaccountable than any thing else ; for even the devils, one would think, might and would rejoice to think of approaching happiness. " I have, for some time, had something like a desire to become a missionary. I have not mentioned it before, because I doubted whether it would not be only a temporary wish. I should feel less backward to preach to savages, or white men little above savages, than any where else. However, I hope Providence will, some way or other, get me into the place where I shall be most useful, be it what it may. I do not feel very solicitous in which way or in what situation. " I shall be in Boston about the 23d of August, and, after commencement, set out for Rindge, should no- thing prevent. At present I can write no more. The bearer is booted, whipped, chaired, and waiting. " Present my most affectionate regards to pa\ I shall make great encroachments on his time when I come home. " Your affectionate son, "E. Payson." A desire to become a missionary, in 1806, was a less dubious proof of expansive Christian benevolence than it would be at the present day. The obligation EDWARD PAY30N. 55 of Christians to send the Gospel to the heathen could not have been learned from any thing which the Ame- rican Church was then doing, or had done for a long period. As to any visible movement, she appeared as indifferent to the claims of the unevangelized tribes of men, as though her Redeemer and Lord had not left it in charge to " preach the Gospel to every creature." Mr. Payson was probably ignorant that another youth- ful bosom in the country panted with the same desire ; though it Avas about this time, if not in this very year — a coincidence which they who regard the works of the Lord, and the operation of his hands, will notice with pleasure — that Samuel J. Mills felt the desire, and formed the purpose, to devote his life to the service of Christ among the heathen — a purpose, however, which was known, first to his mother, and then to a few indi- viduals only, till about four years afterwards. In the extracts which have been inserted from his letters, the reader has discovered his intimate acquaint- ance with the subtle workings of the human heart, and his unsleeping vigilance to detect and guard against its impositions. His self-knowledge, and the rigid self- inspection which he habitually maintained, would ap- pear in a still more striking light from his private dia- ry, if that were spread before the public eye. Neither friends nor foes could name a fault in him, which he had not detected, and condemned in terms of unspar- ing severity. They would find their severest judg- ments anticipated ; and they would find too — what the world little suspects of the Christian — that the small- est trespasses were the cause of heart-felt lamentation and grief in those hours of secret retirement, when no eye but Jehovah's was witness to his sorrow. In his i66 MEMOIR OF example, the young aspirant for fame might see an il- lustration of the wise man's maxim, "before honor is humility ;" and that the surest path to an enduring reputation is found by "asking counsel of God," and " acknowledging him in all our ways." Faithfulness, either to the dead or the living, cannot, however, re- quire that a very free use should be made of the record of what passed in the inward sanctuary of his soul — a record obviously designed for his private use only, and ''n characters intended to be illegible by every eye ex- cept his own. So much will, nevertheless, be insert- ed as is necessary to substantiate the representations in this narrative, or disclose important facts in his his- tory, which could be learned from no other source. Extracts from liis Diiary. '■^ Feb. 5, 1806. For this fortnight past I have en- joyed a tolerable share of assistance, but nothing trans- porting. Slow progress. " Feb. 7. Little opportunity for prayer in the morn- ing ; yet God was pleased not Avholly to desert me during the day, and, in the evening, favored me with clearer views of the glorious all-suflficiency of my Sa- vior, and of my absolute need of him, than I have be- fore experienced. I could, in some measure, feel that my deepest humiliation was rank pride, and all that I am or can do is sin. Yet, blessed be God, I can plead the sufferings and perfect obedience of Jesus Christ, in whom, though weak in myself, I am strong. " Feb. 8. There is no vice, of which I do not see the seeds in myself, and which would bear fruit, did not grace prevent. Notwithstanding this, I am per- petually pulling the mote out of my brother's eye. EDWARD PAYSON. 57 " Feb. 9. Was much favored in prayer, and still more in reading the Bible. Every word seemed to come home with power. Of late, I have none of those rapturous feelings which used to be so transporting ; but I enjoy a more calm and equable degree of com- fort ; and, though slowly, yet surely, find myself ad- vancing. '■^Feb.W. Avery dull day — almost discouraged; yet I hope the experience I gain of my utter inability to think so much as a good thought, will have a ten- dency to mortify pride. " Feb. 15. Felt some liveliness in morning prayer, and some aspirations after greater measures of holi- ness. Resolved to observe this as a day of fasting and prayer. After seeking divine assistance, reflecting en the innumerable sins of which my life has been full, and on the great aggravations that enhance my guilt, I attempted, I hope sincerely, to give myself and all I possess to God, in the renewal of my covenant en- gagements. " Feb. 16. Very dull and lifeless in the morning. Made a resolution to restrain my temper, and the next moment broke it. Felt more lively at meeting. In the afternoon and evening was remarkably favored. I felt such an overwhelming sense of God's amazing good- ness and my own unworthiness as I never had before. It gave me a most earnest desire to spend and be spent in the service of God, in any Avay he should please to employ me. " Feb. 17. In the morning, felt strong ill the Lord, and in the power of his might ; thought I could stand all enemies, but soon was as lifeless as ever. When shall I learn that all my sufficiency is of Grod ! 58 MEMOIR OP " Feh. 19. What a poor, weak, unstable creature I am, when Christ is absent ! Read Baxter's Saints' Rest ; but, though it is very affectingly written, I was totally unmoved by it. " Feb. 22. This is a day to be remembered. I de- termined to spend it in fasting and prayer, but was prevented. In the afternoon received an invitation to •spend the evening with , , &c. but, thanks to divine goodness, was enabled to decline it. I tasted much sweetness in the former part of the evening; but in the latter part I was favored with such displays of divine goodness as almost forced me to exclaim. Lord, stay thine hand ! " Feb. 23. Was again favored with the divine pre- sence. I have some expectation of a heavy stroke im- pending. If it is so, God's will be done. " Feb. 24. A great falling off from the enjoyments and life of yesterday; yet, blessed be God, I am not wholly deserted. I was much favored in speaking to the scholars, and they seemed rather more affected than common. But I have suffered much to-day from the attacks of spiritual pride. This, I already see, will be the enemy against which my efforts must be direct- ed, and which will cost me most conflicts. But I trust in an almighty arm. , " Feb. 26. I drag along without advancing. O, how disproportionate are my endeavors to the mighty prize for which I contend ! " Feb. 28. Resolved to spend this day in fasting and prayer.' Did so, but found no relief Was asto- nishingly dead and wandering. In reading Mr. Brain- erd's life, I seemed to feel a most ardent desire after some portion of his spirit ; but, Avhen I attempted to EDWARD PAYSON. 59 pray, it vanished. I could not even mourn over my coldness. " March 3. In the evening, partly by my own fault, and partly by accident, got entangled in vain company. Afterwards was in most exquisite distress of mind. Had a clearer view of my own sinfulness and vileness than ever. " March 4. I seem rather to go back than to ad- vance. What a display of divine power, to make a saint of such a wretch as I ! " March 6. My time flies like a vapor, and nothing is done. When shall I begin to live for God ! " March 8. I cannot accuse myself of indulging in any known sin, or neglecting any known duty ; bui I am so lifeless, so little engaged in religious things, that I seem to believe as though I believed not. " March 10. Found considerable freedom in prayer. Was too passionate in a dispute about a theatre. Had little freedom in speaking to the scholars. Was en- abled to be diligent in filling up my time. Was as- sisted in my studies. " March 12. I act as if eternal things were a dream. When shall I be wise ! '''•March 13. Favored with great liberty in prayer. Was enabled to pray for others more than usual. ^^ March 17. Thanks to divine goodness, this has been a good day to me. Was favored with considera- ble freedom in the morning, and rejoiced in the Lord through the day ; but in the evening felt an unusual degree of assistance both in prayer and study. Since I BEGAN TO BEG God's BLESSING ON MY STUDIES, I HAVE DONE MORE IN ONE WEEK THAN IN THE WHOLE YEAR BE- FORE. Surely, it is good to dravr near to God at all times. 60 MEMOIR OP " March i9. Less freedom ia prayer than usual. In the evening, was betrayed into folly, if not into sin. Could neither write nor read with any profit. What a miserable creature am I when Jesus withdraws his as- sistance ! Was very positive in a trifle, and was justly punished by finding myself in the wrong. Hope it will prove a profitable lesson to me. ^' March 23. Am much exercised respecting apply- ing for license to preach, and afraid I am under the in- fluence of improper motives ; but I trust my Guide will direct me. " March 28. Read Pike's Saving Faith ; and, though at first I was somewhat alarmed with fears that I had it not, yet, blessed be God, my fears and doubts were soon removed. I was enabled to appeal to God for a witness of what he has done for me. I know that I love my Savior; and, though my love is infinitely short of his merits, I trust He who gave it me can and will increase it. I am sinfid, but He died for sinners. Felt unusual fervency and sweetness in prayer and reading the Scriptures, and was encouraged to go on, striving for more holiness. " March 29. Renewed my covenant with God. Asked assistance to do it with sincerity. My prayer was answered in an unusual degree. I had a clearer vieAv of my own vileness and depravity, and a more distinct and satisfying perception of Christ's all-suffi- ciency and goodness, by far, than I ever enjoyed be- fore ; so that I was ready to think I had never known any thing of the matter. Was enabled to say, Abba, Father! in the true spirit of adoption, and to exercise strong faith in Christ, and love to him. '' March 30. Had more comfort in ordinances than EDWARD PAYSON. 61 ever before. I was almost ready to think this the pe- riod of my conversion. The transport I felt was more rational and penetrating than I ever before experienced. It arose from an apprehension of the perfect sufficiency of Christ in all his offices, and from a clear discovery of God as my Father, so that I was enabled to trust, rejoice, and exult in him. " April 2. Was enabled in some measure to guard against a peevish, impatient disposition. In the even- ing, unusually lively and fervent in prayer. " April 5. Was very much harassed with wander ing thoughts this morning. Sought to Christ for deli- verance, and found it Have fresh reason to think visiting is detrimental. In the evening was exceed- ingly depressed with a sense of my vileness. I wished to shrink from society and observation. Could hardly think of attempting to preach. Threw myself at the feet of my blessed Savior, and poured forth my sorrows and complaints before him. Yet I suspect there was more of self than any other principle in my tears. " April 8. Was much exercised to-day, on the sub- ject of election, and other truths connected with it. Have been much in doubt respecting offering myself for examination next month. Fear I am not under the influence of proper motives. " April 13. Sabbath. Felt the love of God sweetly shed abroad in my heart. Continued in this frame all the morning. Derived much more advantage from or- dinances than usual, especially from the sacrament. A profitable day. " April 20. Had some sense of my miserable state, but little fervency in seeking relief. Suspect the weath- er and my health have some influence on me. In the .M. p. 6 62 MEMOIR OF evening had more fervency, but not more sensible as- sistance. Was, however, resigned to my Master's will, and enabled to trust in him. " April 26. Was much favored in my approaches to the throne of grace to-day. " May 1. Rose early, and had some life and comfort. Have been so much engaged in preparing my sermon for examination, that my mind has been much taken ofi from religion. I find writing sermons is not praying. " May 4. It is now long since I have enjoyed any of those sweet seasons of communion wi'.h God which used to be my chief happiness. I fear I have neglected the Scriptures too much. Am determined to pay more attention to them. " May 13. This was the day in which I intended to be examined before the Association, but it pleased Pro- vidence to prevent. In the evening reflected on my latp coldness and backwardness in religion, and resolved, by the help of divine grace, to run with more alacrity the race set before me. " May 18. I think I never was so favored in prayer for so long a period in my life. At meeting, tolerably lively. In the intermission, and after meeting, was en- abled to spend the time profitably, so that I never was favored with a more profitable Sabbath. "May 19. Enjoyed considerable fervor in the morn- ing, and some life in speaking to my scholars. En- gaged in a dispute at breakfast, and foolishly became angry. Retired and prayed for him with whom I was angry, and for myself. Was enabled, in a considerable degree, to conquer my anger in this matter. " May 20. Find some remains of anger, notwith standing all my endeavors to suppress it. EDWARD PAYSON. 63 " May 22. Since I began, in pursuance of my de- sign, to read the Scriptures, I have enjoyed more of the divine presence than before. " May 23. Was favored in prayer. Was applied to by the selectmen to deliver an oration on the 4th ot July. Refused at first ; but, being persuaded to consider of it, pride and vanity prevailed, and I foolishly com- plied.— Mem. Never to consider, when I have a pre- sentiment, at first, what I ought to do. " Sabbath, June 1. Communion. Enjoyed much ot the divine presence and assistance in prayer and me- ditation. Have never had a more profitable morning Found my Savior in his ordinances. Hope I have found this a good day. Seemed to feel more property in Christ and his benefits than I had ever done before. After meeting was filled with the blessed consolations of the Spirit. O, how refreshing are those foretastes of heaven ! How ravishing the presence of Jesus ! Felt a full assurance of my interest in the blessings pur- chased by Christ. No doubts obscured the sunshine of my mind. God be praised. " June 9. Resolved to spend all the time before six in religious exercises. Enjoyed some comfort in prayer. " June 15. Sabbath. Never felt such strong and live- ly faith in prayer as- this morning. It seemed as if I had nothing to do but to take whatever I pleased. " June 17. Was much harassed with wandering thoughts in morning prayer. Was much assisted in my studies. " June 28. Felt myself exceedingly vile. Found no comfort in the exercises of public worship. My oration is a snare to me. O, what an astonishing, bewitching 64 MEMOIR OP power a thirst for applause has over my mind ! I know it is of no consequence what mankind think of me, and yet I am continually seeking their approbation. " June 29. Sabbath. Rose early, and was favored with the presence and assistance of the blessed Spirit in prayer. O, how sweet and refreshing it is to pour out our souls before God ! O, the wonderful and unmerited goodness of God, in keeping me from openly disgrac- ing my profession ! If he had left me one moment to myself, I had been ruined. Next Sabbath is the com- munion. God grant that it may be a refreshing season to me, and many others. " July 2. Still harassed and perplexed about my ora- tion. Could not have believed that the desire of ap- plause had gained such power over me. " July 4. Was enabled to ask for assistance to per- form the services of the day. In the evening, felt in a most sweet, humble, thankful frame. How shall I praise the Lord for all his goodness ! " July 5. Felt much of the same temper I experi- enced yesterday. In the evening was favored with much of the divine presence and blessing in prayer, — Mem. Applause cannot confer happiness. " July 6. Sabbath. My infinitely gracious God is still present, to make his goodness pass before me. He has been with me this morning in prayer, and enabled me sweetly to say. My Father^ my God. At the Lord's supper my gracious Savior favored me with some to- kens of his presence. 0 that I could find words to ex- press half his goodness, or my own vileness ! I hope my faith received some increase. But what I desire to praise my God for, is his wonderful goodness in assist- ing me against pride. EDWARD PAYSON. 65 " July 7. Still favored with the smiles of my blessed Lord. Surely his loving-kindness is better than life. How condescendingly kind ! I hope he is teaching me the value of worldly applause, and how incompetent it is to afford happiness. I have had enough to satisfy me, if there were any satisfaction in it. But happiness is to be found in God alone. " July 18. Very little comfort in prayer. Have fallen into a sad, lifeless state the week past. Hope it will convince me more strongly than ever of my weakness and vileness. Sat up till 2 o'clock at night, talking with Mr. on religious topics. Found he had more to say in defence of Unitarianism than I could have supposed. " July 24. No life at all. O that it were w4th me as in months past ! — In the evening was favored with more of the divine presence than I have enjoyed this fortnight. ^ " July 25. Spent the day, according to previous re- solution, in fasting and prayer. "Was favored with much of the divine presence and blessing, so that it was a comfortable and profitable day to me. Called to mind the events of my past life, the mercies I have re- ceived, and the ill returns I have made for them. Felt a deep sense of my own unworthiness, and the unme- rited goodness of God. " July 27. Was alarmed with respect to my state, by reading Edwards on the Affections ; but obtained comfort and assurance by prayer. " Aug. 2. Was much engaged in prayer, and thought I was humbled under a sense of sin. Was enabled to plead with some earnestness for spiritual blessings. But afterwards, reading an account of the conversion M. p. 6* 66 MEMOIR OF of some persons, I was led to doubt whether I had evei known what it meant, and was much distressed. " Aug. 3. Was again disturbed with apprehensions that I knew nothing of religion ; but, though I could not come to Christ as one of his members, I threw myself down before him, as a sinner who needed his mediation, and my doubts vanished. " Aug. 4. Rose with the impression that all I had formerly experienced was a delusion, and that I was still an enemy to God. Was enabled to go to Jesus, and plead earnestly for mercy, not for my own sake, but for his. I seemed determined, if I must perish, to perish at his feet ; but perhaps I was deceived. How- ever, my hopes began to revive. In the evening fool- ishly went into company, and had no time for prayer. " Aug. 16. Seemed to be something more alive to divine things this morning. Found some sweetness in prayer and reading the Scriptures. In the evening, was much assisted in preparation for the communion to-morrow." CHAPTER IV. Retires to Rindge, and devotes himself exclusively to his pre* paralion for the ministry. In the month of August, 1806, Mr. Payson relin- quished his charge of the Academy in Portland ; and, " after settling his business, went on board a packet for EDWARD PAYSON. 67 Boston," in which he remained several days, " tossed about by contrary winds, and wounded by the oaths and blasphemies of the wretches on board." He has described "a set" of his fellow-passengers by two words, indicative of all that is revolting to modesty and pious feeling, and suited to "vex the righteous soul ;" the bare mention of Avhich would cause others to join him in the exclamation — " How dreadful to spend an eternity among such wretches !" On the fifth day from his embarkation the vessel " arrived in Bos- ton in a violent gale of wind, attended Avith some dan- ger." He tarried in the neighborhood till after com- mencement, and, notwithstanding the " noise and con- fusion, found more pleasure than he had expected in meeting his classmates." On his way from Cambridge to Rindge, he rode as far as Groton ; but whether the stage rested there over night, or took a difiierent route, and his desire to tread again the threshold of his be- loved home alone urged him forward — so it was, that he left the stage, and " walked home from Groton af- ter six" in the evening, and was at his journey's end " about four the next morning," ready to " receive the congratulations of his friends." His father's house continued, from this time, to be his hallowed and cho- sen retirement, till he entered on the active duties of the ministry. "Wisdom's self " Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude ; " Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation, " She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings." This step, considered in all its aspects, may justly be regarded as one of the most important in Mr. Pay- son's life, and reflects the highest honor on his judg- 68 MEMOIR OF ment and good sense. Four months previously to thii time, as has been seen in the preceding pages, he seri- ously contemplated making application for license to preach the Gospel. Whatever were the caus3 that pre- vented him, a gracious Providence is visible in it ; not that he was particularly deficient in sacred learning ; on the contrary, his theological knowledge was pro- bably equal to that of most " candidates." Among the works which he is known to have read with care, might be named Watson's Tracts, Witsius, Stack- house, Jonathan Edwards, besides many works of de- votion and practical divinity. Abstracts of several other treatises still exist in his hand-writing, which were made before he left Portland ; also a collection of " Thoughts on the Composition and Delivery of Sermons." Still, during all this time, he was invested with a public trust of no light responsibility. His school must have mainly engrossed his time, his thoughts, and his cares. To suppose that his pro- fessional studies were allowed more than a secondary claim to his attention, were to suppose him unfaithful to an important charge, which he had voluntarily as- sumed. And though he could hardly have been other than a distinguished preacher, even had he entered on the sacred office without further preparation, yet he would not have been the minister he afterwards was. This season of retirement has an intimate connection with his subsequent eminence and usefulness. To the occupations of these days of seclusion from the world, more than to any other means, may be traced his gi- gantic " growth in the knowledge of God," and that ex- traordinary unction which attended his performance of official duties. EDWARD PAYSON. 69 This period of his history 's memorable, and highly instructive to the student of theology. Having, after much deliberation and prayer, chosen the ministry of reconciliation as the business of his future life, he gave himself up to the work of preparation with an exclu- siveness and ardor perhaps never exceeded. From every study and pursuit, whatever its charms and at- tractions, which was not directly subsidiary to his grand design, he resolutely divorced himself— at least till he had acquired the art — analogous to the supposed pro- perties of the philosopher's stone — " of turning all to gold." He seems to have concentrated and directed all his powers to the acquisition of scriptural knowledge, and the cultivation of Christian and ministerial graces, in obedience to the apostolical precept, "give thyself wholly to them." A decision, once formed, was with him usually final ; and, in executing his purpose, " whatever his hand found to do, he did it with his might." These, his permanent characteristics, were eminently conspi- cuous at this period, while learning to " Negotiate between God and man, " As God's ambassador, the grand concerns " Of judgment and of mercy." With the most exalted views of the holy office to which he was looking forward, and of the qualifications requi- site to its competent and successful execution, he sought them with a proportionate zeal, devoting himself to tha study of the sacred pages, if man ever did, " with all the heart, and soul, and strength, and mind." Systems of divinity, as drawn up by men, Mr. Pay- son seems always to have regarded as subordinate to the word of God. It was not his habit to decry them as useless ; but he regarded them with a watchful jealou- 70 MEMOIR OF sy, and felt it unsafe to trust to them, as his practice evidently demonstrates. He found " a more excellent way " to the knowledge of his Master's will, by con- sulting directly "the law and the testimony." Thus to honor the " lively oracles" is the wisest and safest course for every man ; for to embrace a system, with the intention of retaining or rejecting it, either wholly or in part, as it shall afterwards be found to agree, or not, with Scripture, is to incur the hazard of perpetuating error — since a man's theory is more likely to modify his views of the Scriptures, than the Scriptures are to correct the mistakes of his theory. This every one may have observed in regard to those whose sentiments dif- fer from his own. Before this time, indeed, the works of the most eminent divines of our own and other coun- tries, which were then accessible, and which he is known to have read, had doubtless exerted some influ- ence in forming his religious opinions; but he w^as ob- viously wedded to none. To none did he feel the attach- ment of a partisan ; he had not arrived to that state of mind which made him feel interested to defend an opi- nion because any human master had said it. The pol- luting and disorganizing tendency of loose opinions on the one hand, and the scarcely less deplorable effects of dogmatism on the other, which could not have es- caped his observation, not less than the spirit of reli- gion and his constitutional independence of mind, con- spired to lead him to a just estimate of the value of hu- man authority in matters of religious belief, and to con summate his reverence for the " sure word of prophecy," and his confidence in revelation, as an adequate foun dation for his faith, and an infallible guide in duty. " Here is firm footing — all is sea besides." EDWARD PAYSON. 71 Most men, however discordant their principles, pro- fess to have derived them from the Scriptures ; but, with Mr. P. this was something more than pretence. The Bible was Avith him the subject of close, critical, persevering, and, for a time, almost exclusive atten- tion, his reading being principally confined to such writings as would assist in its elucidation, and unfold its literal meaning. In this manner he studied the whole of the Inspired Volume^ from beginning to end, so that there was not a verse on which he had not formed an opinion. This is not asserted at ran- dom. It is but a fev/ years since, that, in conversa- tion with a candidate for the ministry, he earnestly recommended very particular and daily attention to the study of the Scriptures, and enforced his counsel by his own experience of the advantages which would accrue from the practice. He observed, that before he commenced preaching, he made it his great object to know what the Bible taught on every subject, and, with this purpose, investigated every sentence in it so far as to be able " to give an answer to every man who should ask a reason for it."* ' It is not here alledged that Dr. Payson comprehended all tluitis contained in the Scriptures, much less that he arrogated to himself such knowledge; for, though "the word of Christ dwelt richly" in him, he doubtless continued to " increase iu the knowledge of God " by every perusal of it, how often so- ever repeated, till the last, and even then saw as through a glass, darkly, compared with the visions of heaven. Some truths cannot be fully comprehended, and may have various relations which never will be known on earth. Many things respecting unfulfilled predictions can be known by no man till after their accomplishment. But he haJ made every passage a distinct object of attention, and, if " hard to be understood^' * 72 MEMOIR 6r In this way he acquired his unparalleled readiness to meet every question, on every o:;casion, whether proposed by a caviller or a conscientious inquirer, which, it is well known, he usually did in a manner as satisfactory as it often was unexpected. The ad- vantages hence derived were, in his view, beyond all computation. It secured for him the unlimited confi- dence of people in the common walks of life, as " a man mighty in the Scriptures." It gavo him great influence with Christians of other denominations. It enabled him to confound and silence gainsayers, when they could not be convinced, as well as to build up the elect of God on their most holy faith. It furnished him, too, with ten thousand forms of illustration, or modes of conveying to ordinary minds the less obvi- ous truths with which he was conversant in the ex- ercise of his ministry. He believed " all Scripture to be given by inspiration of God, and profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, and for instruction in righteousness 5" and he was himself a most striking exemplification of its competency to render " the man of God perfect, thoroughly furnished unto every good work." Of Mr. Payson's devotion to the Scriptures there is evidence of a different nature from that which has just been given. Among his papers has been found a small manuscript volume, containing " Notes" on most ot the books of Scripture. It is among the few interest- ing relics of this period of his life. The manuscript he could state to the inquirer the causes of the obscuritj', and in the very fact find a powerful motive to humility, diligence, and prayer for divine illumination, thus rendering the darkest texts "profitable." £DWARD PAYSON. 73 ends with remarks on 1 John, 5 : 8. Whether they Were continued, iu another volume, to the end of Re- velation, does not appear. These notes are short in themselves, and much abbreviated in the form of ex- pression, but bear marks of a kind and extent of in- vestigation highly creditable to his learning and judg- ment, as well as to his diligence and fidelity. Dis- crepancies are accounted for and reconciled ; figures are explained ; chronology, philosophy, topography, natural history, ancient languages, are made to con- tribute to the elucidation of Scripture. Against pro- phecies which have received their completion, are found references to the historical characters and events by Avhich they are supposed to have been ful- filled. It is difficult to characterize these notes by any general term, except that they are exegetical, in dis- tinction from practical and experimental. Those on the New Testament are professedly collated, in part; and though the same should, on examination, be found true of the rest, the manuscript is evidence of his care- ful study of the Scriptures ; and for this purpose it was introduced to notice. To learn more fully Mr. Payson's estimate of the Scriptures, the reader should peruse, in this connec- tion, his sermon, entitled '■ The Bible above all Price."* In that discourse the preacher is much at home ; he treads on ground where he delighted to lin- ger. He explores a field with whose riches and beau- ties he was familiar. He clusters together its excel- lencies with a dexterous and bountiful hand, and de- scribes its efficacy like one who " spoke that which he * Tract No. 71, of the American Tract Society. M. P. 7 74 MEMOIR OP lmec\% and testified that -which he had seen." His fa- miliarity with the Scriptures -was strikingly apparent in his pulpit addresses generally ; not so much by long quotations as by their general spirit, and the sacred as- sociations he was continually awakening. They bore prominent traces of the divine model he so faithfully studied, not in matter only, but in the manner of ex- hibiting it, — so plain, that his hearers could not but see it, — enforced by considerations so reasonable and moving, that they must feel self-condemned for reject- ing it. They were not the cold abstractions of a specu- lative mind, but the doctrines which are according to godliness, clothed in the fervid language which affec- tion dictates. They were not truths merely, but truths uttered by one who had felt their power and experi- enced their consolations, under the influence of that Spirit, who, to use his own expressive language, " lives and speaks in every line." But there is another part of his example more diffi- cult to imitate than the one just sketched. He prayed without ceasing. Aware of the aberrations to which the human mind is liable, he most earnestly sought the guidance and control of the Holy Spirit. He felt safe no where but near the throne of grace. He may be said to have studied theology on his knees. Much of his time he spent literally prostrated, with the Bible open before him, pleading the promises — " I will send the Comforter — and when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth." He was especially jealous of his own heart, and, to conquer its evil pro- pensities, subjected his body as well as his mind to the severest discipline. No man ever strove harder to " mortify the flesh, with the affections and lusts." It EDWARD PAYSON. 75 is almost incredible what abstinence and self-denial he voluntarily underwent, and what tasks he imposed on himself, that he might " bring every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ." He allowed him- self only a small part of the twenty-four hours for sleep;* and his seasons of fasting were injuriously frequent. So far did he carry his abstinence from food, that his family were alarmed for his safety. Often has his mother, whom he most tenderly loved and re- verenced, and w^hose wishes were law to him, in every thing besides his religious principles and inter- course with his Maker — in every thing, in short, which did not bind the conscience — often has his mother, or a favorite sister, stood at the door of his chamber, with a little milk, or some other refreshment equally simple, pleading in vain for admission. The expediency or duty of such severe mortifica- tion turns on the question of its necessity to the at- tainment of the object for which in this instance, it was practiced. If the subjection of the heart and mind, with all their powers, to Christ, could not other- wise be effected, he was unquestionably right ; for no sacrifice or sufi'ering which is requisite to this can be *The following division and appropriation of his time was ■entered in his diarj' about five weeks after his return to his father's : " Oct. 5. Resolved to devote, in future, twelve hours to study; two to devotion; two to relaxation; two to meals and family de- votions ; and six to sleep." But this did not long satisfy hira. His rigid notions of duty led hira to subtract two hours from the six devoted to sleep, and to multiply his seasons of fasting to a degree which the human system could not long have sus- tained. A weekly fast, however, was habitual with him, from this time till his last sickness. 76 MEMOIR OP too great. "If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off; if thine eye cause thee to offend, pluck it out." It is moreover true, that the most eminent saints of ancient and later times have devoted frequent seasons to pri- vate fasting and prayer ; and the practice may, there- fore, be ranked among the essential means of rapid and extensive growth in grace. It were well for indi- viduals, it were well for the church, if the practice should revive, and become common.* So far from weakening the charities of life, or diminishing the amount of active, social duties, it would greatly en- hance them. We should witness a more vigorous and determined piety, a more diffusive and efficient bene- volence. Still the religion of Christ enjoins no needless aus- terities. It has at times called, and may again call, for the sacrifice of health, and life, and treasure; for the renunciation of friends and home, and all its en- dearments. But in ordinary circumstances, " Godli- ness is profitable unto all things — to the life that now is, as well as that which is to come." It did not re- There are some distinguished laborers in the vineyard of our Lord, who practice the essential duty here recommended, not so much by totally abstaining from food beyond the accustomed intervals, as by "denying themselves" at every meal, and using a spare and simple diet at all times, — a course well adapted to preserve both mind and body in the best condition for biblical research and devotional exercises. This modification of the duty was much practiced by Mr. Payson, and strongly recom- mended by him to the members of his church. He would have them, when fasting on their own private account, not "appear unto men to fust;" but to come to the table, which was spread for their families, with a cheerful countenance, and partake sparingly of its provisions. EDWARD PAY30N. 77 quire injurious excess of abstinence and mortification in one situated as Mr. Payson was. He afterwards saw his error — not in fasting, but in fasting so long — and lamented it In this matter his mother was the wiser counselor. What she feared came upon him ; the unhappy consequences to his health were felt, it IS believed, to his dying day. The truth is, Mr, Payson never did any thing by halves. Whatever were the objects immediately be- fore him, he was totus in iliis, wholly engrossed Vvdth them. He was therefore particularly liable at this stage of his experience, glowing, as he did, with all the ardor of a first love, and panting for the honor of winning souls to Jesus, to give an undue intensity to the meaning of those passages which prescribed his per- sonal duty. When he read the strong language of Paul —"mortify your members, that are upon the earth;" and contemplated his example — " I keep under my body, and brinc^ it into subjection ;" and desired above all things to be another such champion of the cross ; bis susceptible and ardent mind might have imbibed Yiews of duty which needed to be corrected by an- other remark of the same apostle — '"bodily exercise proflteth little." When attended with the expecta- tion, however latent, that it will purchase immuni- ties, or merit heaven, so far from "profiting" at all, it vitiates the act, rendering it not only useless, but abo- minable. Such an expectation, however, was totally abhorrent to all Dr. Payson's views ; and its existence in the faintest degree is not be supposed on any other principles than those which are common to men whose deceitful hearts practice innumerable impositions, un- suspected by their possessors M. P. 7* 78 MEMOIR OF If " he who ruleth his spirit is greater than he who taketh a city," the rigid discipline and government to which Mr. Payson subjected the passions of the mind and the appetites of the body, arTord the most conclu- sive proof of his real greatness, as well as of his deci- sion and energy of character, and of his unshaken ad- herence to his purposes. Ignorance and prejudice, un- der a show of superior discernment, v/ill see in this conduct the future " pope ;" for prejudice, like malice, will remain blind to one important fact, which should never be lost sight of in estimating Mr. Payson's cha- racter. Except in things expressly enjoined in the Scriptures, he never, at this time or afterwards, made his own practice a law for others. If he " bound heavy burdens and grievous to be borne," he did not " lay them on other men's shoulders," but made his own bear their oppressive weight. He urged self-denial, prayer, and fasting, indeed, as he was obliged by the authority un- der which he acted ; but left the measure and degree to the decision of each man's conscience. He knew more than others of the strength of depravity in his own heart, and supposed he had need of severe mea- sures to subdue it ; that it was of a "kind," of which he could not be dispossessed " but by prayer and fasting." He righily judged, too, that a minister of the meek and seK-denying Jesus needed a more than ordinary share of humility and self-government, to be separated far- ther from the contaminations of the world than other men, and to have the habitual state of his affections more heavenly. Moreover, he had an overwhelming sense of ministerial responsibility, and looked forward to the office, not without hope indeed, but yet trembling for the results, Why then should he not learn to "en- EDWARD PAYSON. 79 dure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ?" And yet thousands of nominal Christians will censure this severe regimen as criminal, by whom he would have been suffered lo escape without animadversion, had he indulged in an occasional surfeit, and mingled in par- ties of pleasure. But who can say that he was not moved by an in- fluence which it would have been sinful to resist, at least till he had reached that limit, beyond which per- severance was excess ? That God, who sees the end from the beginning, fits his instruments for the pecu- liar service which he is preparing for them. A great and arduous work was appointed for Mr. Pay son, as the event proved. And for that kind of preparation, which consists in fasting and communion with God, he had the high example of the Jewish lawgiver, and of One greater than Moses. Thus did Christ, our ex- ampler, previous to entering on his public ministry ; and also when from among his disciples he " chose twelve, whom he named apostles." Thus did the apos- tles, after Christ's ascension, whenever they were call- ed to set apart a brother to the work of the ministry. In this, however, and other duties, the time, man- ner, and extent of which are left undetermined by the express statutes of Christ's kingdom, it is safer to act according to our convictions of duty, for the time be- ing, than to make these convictions our unchangeable rule of conduct for future time. It is a wise direction, " Be not rash with thy mouth, and let not thy heart be hasty to utter any thing before God." In binding our- selves by vows to any course of conduct, regard should be had to our circumstances as social beings, depen- dent on one another, as well as on the Author of our 80 MEMOIR OF existence. No man, perhaps, ever reached any high degree of eminence, who did not form purposes and resolutions, and adhere to them, when formed, with some degree of constancy. There are obvious advan- tages in having our general course marked out before us — in prosecuting our various duties by system, and not at random. But when we descend to details, and assign, beforehand, to every hour of the day its em- ployment, or oblige ourselves to fill up a given number of hours with a particular pursuit, we should not over- look the limits of human ability, nor the thousand changes which may take place in our circumstances, and in our relations with those beings among whom God has placed us. In consequence of such changes, other duties may have a paramount claim to those very hours ; and if our resolutions are formed without an eye to such contingencies, they may prove a snare to us. Disappointments will be unavoidable; vexation and discouragement will ensue. It is not to be presumed that Mr. Payson formed his purposes without reference to the vicissitudes of the human condition. Still, his chagrin on failing sometimes to accomplish them, af- fords reason to think that he might have been too san- guine. It is a little remarkable, that the next day after he had sketched the plan for his future daily employ- ment, unforeseen events necessarily prevented his ex- ecuting it. '• Oct. 6. In great confusion this morning — sister sick — father going a journey — little lime for prayer. Was so much hindered in various ways that I did not fulfill my twelve hoitrs." From causes equally beyond his control he often failed of accomplishing all that he prescribed to him- EDWARD PAYSON. 81 self. Such were, nevertheless, his most laborious days. When hindered and diverted from his object, he would goad himself onward to extraordinary exer- tion ; and when successful in executing his plan, his satisfaction was exquisite. The influence of habitual prayer upon his studies was so certain and so operative, that the strength of his devotion seems, for the most part, to have been the measure of his progress. By his very near ap- proach to the Father of lights, his mind received, as it were, the direct beams of the Eternal Fountain ot illumination. In the light of these beams the truths of religion were distinctly perceived, and their rela- tions readily traced. These irradiations from the throne of God not only contributed to the clearness of his per- ceptions, but imparted a kind of seraphic energy and quickness to his mental operations. Froni them he derived, not light only, but heat. Few requests were urged by him more constantly and earnestly than his petitions for assistance in study ; and not unfrequently he records results similar to the following : — " Was much assisted in my studies this evening, so that, not- withstanding I was interrupted, I was enabled to write twelve pages of my sermon. It was the more pre- cious, because it seemed to be in answer to prayer." Those who would esteem such an "evening's work" as too insignificant to be noticed with special grati- tude, should know that he had now been only part of a month in his retirement. Three days later he writes — " Was most remarkably assisted in study, so that I wrote three-fourths of a sermon." And on the other hand, there are entries of a different character. One may serve as a specimen. 83 UEMom OF " Sept. 23. Was quite dull and lifeless in prayer, and, in consequence, had no success in study." Sometimes even his '" lively," fervent prayers were not followed by immediate returns ; but when the an- swer was granted, it brought with it a rich compensa- tion for the extreme perplexity and distress which the delay occasioned him : ^^ March 4. Was entirely discouraged respecting my studies, and almost determined to give up in de- spair. But see the goodness of God I He enabled me to write a whole sermon, besides reading a great deal; and in the evening was pleased to lift up the light of his countenance upon me. O how refreshing, strengthening, and animating are his smiles ! How ravishing the contemplation of his holiness, love, wis- dom, power and goodness ! He seemed to be a bound- less ocean of love ; and the sight caused my heart to expand with love to him and all his creatures. O how trifling do earthly beauties appear when he is pleased to unveil his face, and give a glimpse of heaven ! His holiness is the chief glory of his nature." But in nothing was his progress more rapid than in self-knowledge. Here — whether success or disap- pointment crowned his other pursuits — he was conti- nually extending his discoveries. To those who are ignorant of " the plague of their own heart," his con- fessions of sin must appear extravagant, and his de- scription of his heart a picture having no original, save in an apostate spirit. He calls it "a compound of every thing bad." He likens it to " the bottomless pit ; out of it — as soon as the door, with which the Holy Spirit covers it, is opened by his absence — a thick, noisome smoke arises, with a tribe of hellish EDWARD PAY SON. 83 locusts, that devour the tender plants of grace, and bring on a darkness which may be felt." Now, he is " crushed into the very dust by the recollection of the sins of his youth ;" — now, " filled with distressing feel- ings, and loses all hope that he shall ever be fit to preach ;" while these very feelings he attributes to a criminal cause, as, " disappointed pride, and a conscious inferiority to others." At another time he is "brought into temptations, which show his inward corruptions, against which he had been praying," or Avhich he had not before suspected in himself. Again, if he " at- tempts to approach the throne of grace, whole floods of evil imaginations carry him away ! so that he is fain to have recourse to unthought-of methods to get rid of them." And, not to prolong the enumeration, he is oppressed with " such a sense of his insignifi- cance and viieness, that it seemed as if he should ne- ver open his mouth any more, to boast, complain, or cejisure." Still, his religion differed as widely from that of the mere ascetic, as Christian charity differs from self- ishness. Its fruits demonstrate the genuineness of the stock. His first care was, indeed, to have his own "heart right with God ;" but he was, at the same time, fertile in good devices, and prompt to execute them. To his mother, under domestic trials, the nature of which, though not indicated, appears to have caused her bitterness of soul, he was eminently "a son of consolation." To other members of the family he strove to be useful. The eye that could penetrate the walls of his chamber, might have seen him conduct- ing a younger brother to the throne of grace, kneeling with him before the mercy-seat, and interceding with 84 MEMOIR OP God for his salvation. He encountered a journey fof the express purpose of visiting an early friend, of* whose piety he had once some hope, but Avho, he fear- ed, had now become indifferent to the one thing need- ful— that he might know his state, and encourage him to seek that good part which could not be taken from him. And so much were his benevolent feelings drawn forth towards the inhabitants of his native town, that he spared no suitable exertions for their spiritual good. A revival of religion among them was the subject of fervent prayer ; and in the same object he endeavored to enlist other Christians. He procured, through the agency of his mother, the institution of a weekly meet-- ing of female members of the church, for united prayer that the work of God might be revived. In short, so far was he from being bound up in self, that he exerted himself for the good of others in such ways as were proper for one in a state of pupilage. Even in the most distressing parts of his experience there are discoverable those characteristics which dis- tinguish it from the torturing convictions of the unre- newed soul. If he is in " a sullen, stupid frame," it is not without " some melting desires after God.'- If he is well nigh "overcome by temptation," it is that he may "rejoice the more at his deliverance, when God gives him the victory." If he is " discouraged because of the difficulties of the way, and the small progress which he makes." just as " all hope seems departing, the fire burns within him." Uniformly, his war is with himself, and not with his God. And if to prevent the night-watches^ that he might meditate in God's vaord; if to love the habitation of his house, and the place where his honor dwelleth; if to account himself and EDWARD PAYSON. 85 all things else as nothing for Christ's sake; lixoknow in whom he has believed^ and to draw near to him in full assurance of faith ; if to be satisfied as with mar- row and fatness, lohile remembering God and medi- tating on him, in the night-watches ; if to prevent the dawning of the m-orning by the cries of prayer ; if to prefer Jerusalem above one's chief joy — are scriptural marks of piety ; then is his placed beyond suspicion. All these, and more, will be recognised in the extracts from his journal, with which this chapter concludes. " Sept. 29. Had a most transporting view of God's glory as consisting in pure holiness. I rejoiced greatly that he reigned, and could exalt his own glory. Henceforth I will not doubt of my character; for I know, yea, assuredly know, that I love God my Sa- vior, and holiness. " Oct. 19. Sabbath. Rose with thoughts of God on my mind. Was exceedingly assisted in secret and in family prayer. Never had my desires and affections so much drawn out after God and holiness. Was filled with the gracious influences of the Spirit, so that I re- joiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory. Never did earth appear so small, heaven so desirable, the Sa- vior so precious, holiness so lovely, God so glorious, as now. In reading the Scriptures, they seemed to open with a clearness and force which delighted and astonished me. Such a sweet, calm, soul-satisfying joy I never felt before m so great a degree. Nothing on earth seemed worth a serious thought, but to glorify God. Had much of the same temper through the day. Was more assisted at meeting than ever before. In the evening had a clearer sense of the evil of sm, a greater hatred of it, and more fixed resolutions against M. p. 8 DO MEMOIR or it than ever. This has been by far the most profitable and blessed day to my soul that I ever experienced. God be praised ! " Oct. 25. Was much depressed with a view of the numerous enemies which oppose my journey heaven- ward. Had a faint glimpse of Christ, as able to carry me through in spite of all. Never before had such a clear idea of the passage — If the righteous scarcely are saved. Seemed to be plunged in a bottomless ocean of sin and corruption, from which no efforts of my own could free me. " Nov. 2. Communion Sabbath. Blessed be God, who has caused his loving-kindness to appear. En- joyed much assistance in family and secret prayer. Was enabled to drag my sins to Christ, beseeching him to slay them for me. Afterwards enjoyed great sweet- ness in meditation. Was preserved, in some measure, from wandering thoughts at meeting. Had a profitable, though not a very happy time, at communion. After meeting, was favored with considerable liberty in fa- mily and secret devotions. " Nov. 10. Had petitioned, last night, that I might awake at a given hour ; my petition was granted, and I was assisted in prayer. Felt my dependence on God for strength. Was surprisingly favored all day. Was in a sweet, humble frame. 1 admired and loved the work which Christ had wrought in my heart by his Spirit, just as 1 should have admired it in any other. My faith seemed to be unusually strong, able to grap- ple with any thing. I felt all day, that I depended entirely on Christ for the continuance of my strength. " Nov. 18. After retiring to rest last night was fa- vored with an extraordinary display of divine grace. EDWARD PAYSON. 87 I rejoiced that the Lord reigned ; that Jesus was ex- alted far above principalities and powers. I was per- mitted to approach very near him, and to plead with much confidence and earnestness for myself and others. Waked several times in the night in the same frame. In the morning was favored with still clearer views, and more near access to my Saviour, and rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory. Could not find words to utter my praises for such goodness. Had, too, a most humiliating view of my own vile and odious nature. " Nov. 19. My gracious God is still loading me with his unmerited goodness. His mercies follow each other, as wave follows wave, and the last seems ever the greatest This morning I seem to enjoy the hap- piness of heaven. " Nov. 21. Resolved to spend this day in fasting and prayer for greater measures of grace, and assistance to render me more humble and concerned for God's glo- ry ; for more love to God and his people, and for minis- terial qualifications. After seeking the divine presence, for which I was enabled to plead with great earnest- ness, and a feeling sense that I could do nothing with- out it, I endeavored to recollect and confess my sins. I saw myself exceedingly vile, seemed the chief of sin- ners, to be worse than the evil spirits, and thought that the lowest place in hell was my due. * * * * I felt the most ardent desire for God's glory, and was willing to be a stepping-stone, or any thing, however mean, to promote it. To be a fellow-laborer with Christ, in the glorious work of bringing souls to him, seemed to be the most delightful and honorable of all offices ; and in this service I felt willing to spend and be sent ; to suffer pain, 00 MEMOIR or contempt, and death itself. Felt a most intense love for Christ's people, and was willing to be below them all. " Nov. 26. As soon as I awoke, felt my soul go forth in longing after more holiness, and promised myself much comfort in prayer. But my Lord withdrew him- self, and I could do nothing. Felt convinced that it was a dispensation of love for my good. " Nov. 29. Never was enabled to plead with such earnestness and submission before. My mouth was filled with arguments, and I seemed to have both my Savior and the blessed Spirit go with me, and plead for me at the throne of grace. Was favored with a clear view of my Savior's beauty and holiness, and of the scheme of salvation by him. What a glorious design, and how worthy of its Author! " Bee. 1. Favored with an uncommon spirit of prayer. Saw that, as a member of Christ, I might pray with as much certainty of being heard as Christ him- self. Was enabled to plead his merits, sufferings, death, God's gracious promises, what he has already done for me, the operations of his own Spirit, and his own con- duct in hearing others — as reasons why he should hear me. * * ♦ Was graciously assisted in pleading, till I received an answer of peace. Was most sweetly melt- ed with a view of the love of the blessed Trinity dis- played in the work of redemption, and the vile, un- grateful returns I had made. " Dec. 5. Felt a full persuasion that my present dark, comfortless state is only designed for good, to teach me humility, dependence, and weanedness from the Avorld ; and if it has this eflect, I welcome it with joy. " Dec. 6. All my proud and selfish feelings seemed EDWARD PAYSON. 89 to be annihilated. I saw and rejoiced that Jesus had no need of me, and that he would be praised by others, if not by me, to all eternity ; and, provided he could be glorified, I cared not how, or by whom. How sweet to have pride and self subdued ! " Dec. 9. Determined to spend this day in fasting and prayer for myself and the advancement of religion in this place. Had great and special assistance last evening, and now, in pleading for the outpouring of the Spirit here, and for help in the duties before me. After thinking over my manifold transgressions, my sins against light and love, and confessing them — I at- tempted to plead my Savior's death and righteousness for pardon and reconciliation. I could not obtain it, but was for three hours in great perplexity and distress, and was more than once on the point of giving up in despair. However, I was enabled to continue reading the Scriptures and praying till afternoon, when the cloud dispersed, and my Savior shone out brighter than ever before. How did my soul rejoice, and plead for sanctifying grace ! Was exhausted and worn out, but continued praying, or trying to pray, till night. " Dec. 16. Was enabled to realise, for the first time in my life, what Christ suffered, and for what a wretch he suffered. Was so overwhelmed with the view, that I could not, for some time, shed a tear. O how hateful did sin appear ! " Dec. 17. Was much assisted in writing on Christ's passion. " Jan. 4, 1807. Was favored with a spirit of prayer beyond all my former experience. I was in great agony, and wrestled both for myself and others with great power. God seemed to bow the heavens and come M. p. 8+ 90 MEMOIR OF down, and open all his treasures, bidding me take what I would. " Jan. 6. Was not favored with that sweet sense of pardon which I usually find on occasions of fasting : but I had a quiet, peaceful, resigned frame, and felt none of those repining thoughts which the absence of sensible comforts is apt to excite. " Jan. 20. Was amazingly assisted in prayer for myself, parents, friends, and a revival of religion. " Jan. 21, Was favored with the clearest views of the glory of heaven, as consisting in holiness, that I ever had. " Jan. 29. Never felt such longings after God, or such a desire to depart and be with Christ. My soul thirsted for more full communion with my God and Sa- vior. I do not now feel satisfied, as I used to, with the manifestations of the divine presence, but still feel hungry and craving. " Feb. 2. Was amazingly given up to wandering imaginations. If I attempted to pray, in a moment my thoughts were in the ends of the earth. If I attempted to read the Bible, every verse, almost, afforded ground of doubt and caviling. This fully convinced me that Satan is able to make me doubt even the existence of God. " Feb. 18. Was enabled to lie at Jesus' feet, and to wash them w..'th the tears of contrition. No pleasure I have ever fou.id in religion superior to this. " Feb. 20. Reisolved to spend the day in fasting, and had considerable a.^^sistance. Had clearer views of the majesty, purity, anO holiness of God than usual, and this made me abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes. EDWARD PAYSON. 91 " Feb. 28. Was favored with great enlargement in prayer. Seemed to be carried out of myself into the presence of God. " MarchQ. Seem to be declining ; and less grateful, less fervent, than I was, and have less tenderness of spirit. Yet I am less apt to think much of myself than I was, and hope I am growing in humility. This seems the most lovely grace, and most becoming sinners. " March 7. Were it not for the promised help of my Savior, I would think no more of preaching, but rather labor for daily bread. " March 12. Never appeared so exceedingly vile and loathsome to myself as I did this day. It seemed as if I could not endure to be near myself No words could express any thing like the sense I had of my un- worthiness. It seemed as if I could not, for shame, ask God to save me. I felt like sinking into the dust, in the idea that his pure eye was fixed upon me, and that saints and angels saw how vile I was. " March 15. Sabbath. Rose very early, and was favored with sweet fervency and communion with God in prayer. Went to bed, and lay till morning. Enjoyed great liberty in prayer several times before meeting. " March 17. Was favored with a peculiar experience this morning. I thought I knew that I could never heal myself before ; but I was made to know it in a different manner now. I saw, with most convincing clearness, that neither I, nor all created beings, could do the least thing towards delivering me from my sinful nature. I saw that I depended entirely on the free mercy of God ; and that there was no reason but hig own good plea- 92 MEMOIR OF sure why he should ever afford me that assistance. Felt, for the first time in my life, what the apostle meant by " groanings which cannot be uttered ;" and my desires after holiness were so strong, that I was in bodily pain, and my soul seemed as if it would burst the bands which confined it to the body. " March 19. [At the close of a day of fasting and prayer.] I find that, even when the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak. No days are so fatiguing as those which are spent in fervent and continual exercises of religion. It will not be so m heaven. " March 26. Spent the day in fasting and prayer. Was favored with near access to my heavenly Father, and a realizing sense of his perfections. O how sweetly was I enabled to praise and admire his love and good- ness in his works ! '•'•March 31. Spent this day fasting, but not in prayer ; for I could not put up a single petition. Was entirely deserted, and was ready to say. Surely it is in vain to seek after God. I could not see that I had advanced one step in holiness, and was ready to think I never should ; yet could think of nothing else worth pursuing or living for. Doubted whether it were pos- sible that I should know any thing of true religion, and yet be so entirely barren. '•' April 7. In fasting and prayer, was favored with much of a spirit of supplication. I noAV seem to be lifted above those discouraging, desponding doubts, which have for some time clogged my soul. No good COMES of doubting, OR OF BROODING OVER OUR SINS. " April 14. Spent this day in fasting and prayer. Was wholly deserted, except that I saw more of my natural depravity, and the consequent pollution of all EDWARD PAYSON. 93 5iiy duties, than ever before. Saw more, too, of the glory and greatness of the work of redemption than I had previously. " April 22. Spent this day in fasting a«id prayer. At first was stupid ; but soon God was pleased to lift tp the light of his countenance upon me, and visit me vith his free Spirit. O how infinitely glorious and lovely did God in Christ appear ! I saw, I felt, that Ood was mine, and I his, and was unspeakably happy. Now, if ever, I enjoyed communion with God. He shone sweetly upon me, and 1 reflected back his beams in fervent, admiring, adoring love. Had a most ra- vishing view of the glories of heaven, of the ineffable delight with which the Lord Jesus beholds the happi- ness which he has purchased with his own blood."^ CHAPTER V. His state of mind in the immediate prospect of the ministry. The time now drew near when Mr. Pay son was to receive license to preach the Gospel. His spirituality appears to have increased as that interesting era of his life approached. Most sensibly did he feel that he " was no longer his own, but bought with a price," and " called by grace to serve God in the Gospel of his Son." " The world was crucified to him, and he to the world." His piety was distinguished by more frequent acts of self-dedication to God — not by short ejacula- tions and a general surrender merely, but with great 94 MEMOIR OP deliberation, attended by a minute survey of the rela- tions of the creature to the Creator, and of the obliga- tions recognised and assumed by such a consecration. Happily, one specimen of the manner in which he ga\'e himself up is preserved; and, though it describes th? secret dealings of the soul with its God, it is hopei that it will not be desecrated by being brought out to the light. If, however, the reader never felt the awe which is created by a consciousness of the divine pre- sence— if he never experienced the emotions of an an- cient pilgrim, when, preparing for a similar transac- tion, he exclaimed, " How dreadful is this place !" — he is urgently requested to pause. If he is conscious of any other feelings than those of profound solemnity, let him leave this chapter unread. In it he will find nothing with which a mind given to levity, or vanity, or pride, can possibly sympathize. If he ventures to proceed, he will be met at the threshold, if not by "a drawn sword in the hand of the Captain of the Lord's host," by that which is scarcely less appalling to an earthly mind, and which will render almost equally appropriate the order addressed to Israel's leader — " Loose thy shoe from off thy foot; for the place where- on thou standest is holy." " May 1, 1807. Having set apart this day for fast- ing and prayer, preparatory to the celebration of the Lord's supper, I rose early, and sought the divine pre- sence and blessing, in which I was favored with fer- vency and freedom. My petition was, that I might be enabled to see my own character, contrasted with the purity of God, and his holy, just, and good law; that I might be assisted in renewing covenant with God, and in giving myself up to him, and that I might EDWARD PAYSON. 95 be favored with ministerial qualifications. After this, I drew up the following CONFESSION AND FORM OF COVENANT. " O thou High and Holy One, that inhabitest eter- nity, whose name alone is Jehovah, — who art the one. great, eternal, ever-blessed God, before whom angels bow and devils tremble, and in whose sight all the na- tions of the earth are less than nothing and vanity ! — wilt thou graciously condescend, in thy sovereign and infinite goodness, to look down from thy throne of glory on me, the most unworthy of thy creatures, a poor, weak, sinful, vile, and polluted wretch, to behold me with mercy and compassion, and permit me, lying prostrate in the dust before thee, to address thee as my God, my Father, my Creator, my Benefactor, my Friend and Redeemer ! " O Lord, I would come with a heart broken and contrite for sin, acknowledging myself unworthy of the least of all thy mercies, and deserving nothing at thine hand but everlasting banishment from thee and happiness. Encouraged by thine own gracious pro- mises, I would come, and, with humble confidence, take hold on the hope set before me, even thine ever- lasting covenant, which is ordered in all things and sure. But, O God, what am I, that I should be called thy son, that I should call thee my Father, or that thou shouldst enter into covenant with me ? I blush, and am ashamed even to lift up my face unto thee, O my Father ; for I have sinned against thee, and am exceeding vile, vile beyond what language can de- scribe or thought conceive. My iniquities are gone 90 MEMOIR OF over my head; they are increased even to the hea- vens ; they are infinite in number, in degree, and ag- gravation, and can be equalled only by thy mercies, which have been new every moment. Thou, O God, hast given me life, and dost still preserve me in ex- istence. Thou hast given me faculties which render me capable of knowing, serving, loving, worshiping, and enjoying thee. Thou hast placed me in this Chris- tian land, and given me the knowledge of thee, my- self, and my duty, while thousands of my fellow-crea- tures are left in darkness. Thou hast placed me in that situation in life which is most favorable to vir- tue, contentment, and happiness, and hast given me parents tender and affectionate, who early devoted me to thee, and taught me to lisp thy name, and to know thy precepts. Through their means thou hast given me opportunities of improving those faculties I have received from thee, and thus rendering myself more fit to serve thee. But above all, O my God, thou hast given me an interest in thy Son, and in all the bless- ings he has purchased. Thou hast given me the Spi- rit of adoption, whereby I am enabled to cry, Abba, Father. Thou hast given me thy precious grace in this world, as an earnest of glory in the next. Thou hast also loaded me with daily and hourly mercies, more than I can number. Thou hast kept me with more than parental care. Thou hast preserved me m sickness, protected me from dangers, shielded me while awake, watched over me in sleep, supported me in trials, strengthened me in weakness, succored me in temptations, comforted me in afliictions, and de- fended me against mighty and numberless enemies. Thou hast overwhelmed me with thy mercies j my EDWARD PAYSON. 97 cup runneth over. Thy goodness and thy mercy have followed me all the days of my life. " Yet against all this goodness I have rebelled, have rewarded thee evil for good ; thy mercies have only aggravated my guilt. O my God, what have I done ! What madness, what obstinacy, what ingrati- tude has possessed me ! My sins have run parallel with thy mercies. I have struck and wounded the hand that made me, fed me, preserved me. I have wasted in sin and folly the life thou gavest me. I have perverted those faculties I received from thy goodness in dishonoring thee, and in disobeying thy commands. I was shapen in sin, and brought forth m iniquity. My understanding is darkened and alien- ated from the truth ; my will is stubborn and perverse ; my affections are corrupted and depraved ; and every imagination of the thoughts of my heart has been evil, only and continually evil. My carnal mind has been enmity against thee, and has not been in subjection to thy righteous and holy law. From this corrupt and bitter fountain have proceeded innumerable bitter, pol- luting streams. Though I was early taught thy will, I neglected to perform it. I have broken all thy com- mands, times without number. My words, thoughts, and actions, have been sinful. I have gone astray from my youth up. " And even after thou didst take pity upon me, when I was cast out, polluted, to perish in my blood — after thou didst receive me, a poor, wretched prodigal, and didst cause thy wondrous goodness and mercy to pass before me, I have still continued to weary thee with my sins, and cause thee to serve with mine iniquities. I have broken that solemn covenant by which I bound M. p. 9 vo MEMOIR OP myself to be thine. I have indulged an evil heart of unbelief, in departing from the livirg God, and have in all things dealt very treacherously. How often have I mocked thee with solemn wurds on a thought- less tongue ! How have I neglected thy word, pro- faned thine ordinances, broken thy law, and resisted thy grace ! How little of a filial temper have I felt to thee, my Father ! How little gratitude to thee, blessed Savior ! How often have I grieved thee, O Holy Spi- rit, by whom I am sealed to the day of redemption ! When thou liftest upon me the light of thy counte- nance, I grow proud, carnal, and secure ; and when thou leavest me in darkness, when my own foolish- ness perverteth my way, then my proud heart fretteth against thee, the Lord. All my duties are polluted with innumerable sins, and are as a leprous garment before thee. And, after all thou hast done for me, I am still encompassed about with innumerable evils. Pride, unbelief, selfishness, lust, anger, hatred, malice, revenge, bitterness, slothfulness, vanity, love of the world, ignorance, formality, hypocrisy, and, with all these, self-conceit, are still the inhabitants, if not the lords, of my heart. And, as thou, O Lord, knowest, these are not the ten thousandth part of my sins and iniquities ; so that I am the chief of sinners, and the least of all saints. ****** " O wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from this body of death? Vain, O Lord, thou knowest, are my endeavors, and vain is the help of man. I have ruined myself, and in thee alone, and in thy mercy, is my hope. "To this mercy, against which I have so often sinned, would I flee for refuge, and laying my hand EDWARD PAYSOIf. 99 on my mouth, and my mouth in the dust, cry, Unclean ! unclean ! True, Lord, I have sinned ; but with thee there is mercy, with thee there is plenteous redemp- tion. Thou, thou art he who blottest out our iniqui ties for thine own sake, and will not remember our sins against us. The blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin, and to this would I flee for refuge. In him do I put my trust; O let me not be ashamed. Let me plead before thee the merits of thy Son, and put thee in mind of thy gracious promises, that I may be justified. In his name, and as an unworthy mem- ber of his mystical body, would I come, and renew before thee that covenant which I have broken, and bind myself to be thine for ever. And do thou, for his sake, O God, assist me ; for in thee is my strength. " Relying on this strength for support, and confess- ing myself guilty of all these and innumerable other offences, and that I deserve, in justice, nothing but the lowest hell, and renouncing the destructive ways of sin, — I do, with my whole heart and soul, in a most serious, solemn, and deliberate manner, choose and take the Lord Jehovah to be my God and Father, cheerfully and joyfully renewing all my past engage- ments ; and, in humble dependence on his grace, I engage to fear him, and cleave to him in love. And I do most freely give up myself, my interests, for time and for eternity, my soul and body, my friends and possessions, and all that I have, to his wise, just, and sovereign disposal. Especially do I devote my- sf If to him in the service of the ministry, beseeching him to place me in that situation in which I shall most glorify him. And wilt thou, O most gracious and condescending God, accept this offering of thy 100 MEMOIR OP creature, who can give thee nothing but what he has first received. " With equal joy and readiness, and in the same serious and solemn manner, do I choose and embrace the Lord Jesus Christ to be my only Savior. I take him in all his offices — as my Priest, to make atonement for all my offences — as my Prophet, to guide, teach, enlighten and instruct me — as my King, to rule in and reign over me. I take him as the great Head of influences, from whom alone 1 can receive all needed supplies of grace and assistance. " I do also take the Holy Spirit of all grace and consolation to be my Sanctifier, and promise not to grieve him, or to slight his warnings. " And, O my God, what shall I more say ? what can I ask, since I am thine, and thou art mine ; mine, for time; mine, for eternity? O my God, I want nothing but to be wholly thine. I would plead thy promise for a new heart and a right spirit. O write this covenant on my heart, and put thy fear there, that I may not depart from thee. May I be made an able, faithful, and successful minister of the New Testament. May the life and concerns which I have now devoted to thee be employed in thy service ; and may I, at length, be brought to the full enjoyment of thee in glory, through infinite riches of redeeming love. " As a testimony of my sincere and hearty consent to this covenant, of my hope and desire to receive the blessings of it, and as a swift witness against me if I depart from it ; I do now, before God and the holy angels, subscribe with my hand unto the Lord. "Edward Payson. EDWARD PAYSON. 101 " And may this covenant be ratified in heaven. And do thou remember, O my &oul, that the vows ot God are upon thee. " Having drawn up the above covenant, I spread it before the Lord ; and after confession of sins, and seeking pardon through the blood of Christ, I did solemnly accept it before him as my free act and deed ; and embraced Christ in it, as the 6nly ground of my hope. I then pleaded for all covenanted blessings, and was favored with great fervency and enlargement in prayer. An indisposition, which attended me through the day, rendered it less profitable than usual ; yet I have abundant reason to bless God for the measure of assistance I received. I felt the most longmg, intense, and insatiable desires after holiness, and to be era- ployed in promoting the divine glory. The world, with its applause, seemed nothing in comparison with the approbation of God. Existence seemed worth pos - sessing only as it could be employed in praising him." In this and other places he descends to specifica- tions of sins in terms which may be thought applica- ble to none but a monster of wickedness ; and yet they are the judgment passed on himself by a man always and universally respected for the correctness and pu- jrity of his morals. His " pride " never looked with dis- dain upon the meanest fellow-creature; his "malice" and "revenge" never inflicted actual injury; and of any outbreakings of the baser and more degrading pas- sions he stands unindicted by all except himself. Nor were these humiliating confessions, this extraordinary self-abasement, made to attract notice and give him- self importance in the eyes of others — one of the very worst and most odious forms in which pride operates M. p. 9* 102 MEMOIR or — for to them no mortal was ever privy. They were not known to a fellow-creature till since he dropped the clods of mortality. They describe what he ap- peared to himself to be in the immediate presence of the perfectly holy and heart-searching God. Still, many will repeat the question — If he alludes to no crimes with which every man might not with equal propriety charge himself, whence the justice or truth of the charges ? Here again he shall be his own in- terpreter. Let those who are oppressed with this dif- ficulty carefully read his sermon entitled. Sins esti- mated by the Light of Heaven * and they will find a full and satisfactory solution. This, and the sermon just alluded to, will furnish a key to the true import of much of the language which he employs in describ- ing the darker and more distressing parts of his expe- rience. The effects of his severe regimen and night vigils on his health had already begun to appear, and were somewhat aggravated by a bodily injury which he re- ceived about this time. The circumstances are said to have been these : He had accompanied his father and another clergyman to an ordination. On their re- turn, as he was feasting his mind with such medita- tions as the scenery and the occasion suggested, they outrode him. His horse, being left principally to his own guidance, by suddenly leaping a brook, brought his rider to the ground, whose right shoulder was dis- located by the shock. A partial faintness succeeded, from which he was recovered by bathing his temples with water from the stream. Attempting, in this dis- abled condition, to regain the saddle by leaping from * Tract No. 58, American Tract Society. EDWARD PAYSON. 103 a neighboring fence, he was precipitated over the horse to the ground, and the bone was restored to its place by the fall. In after life it was often displaced, and sometimes in circumstances not a little embarrass- ing and distressing ; and for many months before his death, and even before he ceased to appear in the pul- pit, that arm hung useless by his side. From this time the state of his health is the subject of frequent allu- sion, as may be seen from his journal, parts of which, for several successive days, are subjoined, bringing down his history to the date of his license to preach the Gospel : " May 2. Was exceedingly weak through the day, both in body and mind, and was enabled to do little or nothing. Could only wish and sigh. " May 3. Communion. Had considerable flow of affections, but seemed to want clearness and spiritual- ity. In the afternoon was more dead and trifling. So far as I can judge from my feelings, have got little good by this opportunity. Felt deeply oppressed with guilt after meeting, but could not mourn over my sin, as I would fain have done, nor could I obtain any sense of divine love. But after a short time my com- passionate Savior was pleased to melt my soul with a look of love, and I felt sweetly humbled and contrite for sin. Although I had carelessly let down my watch, yet in the evening he was pleased to return, and give me the sweetest humbling season I ever enjoyed. I never felt so vile, so insignificant, so like nothing, so emptied of self. And when I was thus empty, he was pleased to fill me with himself; so that I was burnt up with most intense love and pantings after holiness. Never before had I such faith and fervency in prayer. 104 MEMOIR OF I was as happy as nature could sustain, and could only say — Blessed Jesus ! this is thy work. See my happi- ness. It proceeds from thee ! This is the fruit of thy travail of soul. Renewed my covenant, and gave up my whole soul, with all its powers, to God as my Fa- ther, Christ as my Savior, and the Holy Spirit as my Sanctifier. Had another sweet season in prayer ; but was assaulted by spiritual pride. I see frowns are n£cessary for me. '■''May 4. Was less favored this morning than last evening ; but had some assistance. Was aid id in writ- mg, but greatly oppressed with pride and vr.nity, which made their attacks "por. me in inexpres'.ible shapes, while I could do no-i.^.g. " May 5. Spent this day in the woods, in fasting and prayer, with a view to obtain mortification of my abominable pride and selfishness. Was favored with much fervency and enlargement the former part of the day, but was afterward much deserted ; seemed to make no advances in holiness ; to be of no advantage to the Avorld, and unfit to live. " May 6. Had some freedom in prayer. Felt very feeble, and unfit for study ; but, praying that Christ's strength might be made perfect in my weakness, I was- helped to write more than usual. " May 7. Out of order both in body and mind. Did little in my study, and had little freedom in prayer. ^^ May 8. Had some life and fervency this morn- ing ; but was exercised with Avandering thoughts. Could do little all day. ^'■Mayd. Was much perplexed with some business with ** **, so that I could neither read nor pray, any :nore than I could remove a mountain. This was EDWARD PAYSON. 105 made useful to me. I saw by it the weakness of my graces, and learned to judge more favorably of those Christians who are exposed to the temptations of the world. It showed me also my need of divine help more clearly than ever. Were I exposed to the same temptations, I should lose all sense of divine things without greater supports than I ever had. " May 10. Was very unwell, and could neither eat, read, nor pray. Was excessively melancholy. " May 11. Was still more oppressed with melan- choly, and felt even more miserable. ********* Was ashamed of my selfishness and ingratitude, in despising the blessings God had given me. Remained very wretched, and unable to do any thing. In the evening had some relief. ^^ May 12. Was, if possible, still more gloomy and depressed than yesterday. Seemed unfit to preach, and even to do any thing. Could only wander about from place to place, seeking rest, and finding none. In the evening a person arrived from Marlborough, inviting me to come and preach four Sabbaths. After putting up a short but sincere petition that I might not be left to my own guidance, and asking the advice of my father, I promised to go. Retired, and cast my- self upon the Lord for support, with a deep sense of my own utter insufficiency. " May 13. Having set apart this day for fasting and prayer, with reference to entering on the work of the ministry, I sought the divine presence and bless- ing, in which I was much assisted. Renewed cove- nant with God, and gave myself up to him for the work of the ministry. Was helped to plead with far more earnestness than ever before, and, indeed, with 100 MEMOIR OF as much as my nature could support, or was capable of, and this repeatedly during the day. " May 14. Was very unwell, and apprehensive of a nervous fever. Could not read the most amusing books without weariness and distraction ; and my body was so weak that I could exercise but very little. Yet, by divine goodness, was preserved in a quiet, submissive frame. " May 15. Was better, and had some sweetness in secret devotion. Went to see an old man who has been converted in his old age. Found him full of affection, and possessing remarkably clear views of God and divine things, though in other respects weak and illiterate. Was somewhat refreshed with his conversation. — P. M. Forced to make a visit, but helped to introduce religious conversation. ^^ May 16. Felt very lifeless in the morning; but in secret prayer it pleased God to enliven me. In the evening was favored with equal, or greater degrees of fervency. My soul was suddenly humbled and broken for sin. I seemed to be much the least of all saints ; and my very soul panted for God and holiness, as the hunted hart for the water-brook. Blessed be God for this day ! " May 17. Sabbath, A. M. Very dull and lifeless ; but in secret prayer the cloud was removed, and I found unspeakable delight in drawing near to God, and casting myself upon him. Christ appeared incon- ceivably precious, and I longed, with most intense desire, to devote myself to him, and to be like him. I could not but rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory, to think that God in Christ was, and would be, infinitely and unchangeably glorious and happy. EDWARD PAYSON. 107 In Christ I beheld such fullness and sufficiency, that all my late tormenting fears respecting being qualified for the ministry, and assisted in it, vanished. In the evening was overwhelmed with a view of my remain- ing corruptions, and especially of my pride : so that I was in a perfect agony, and could scarcely support it. I Vv'as just ready to despair, and give up all future striving as vain ; but I fled to Christ, and poured out all my sorrows into his bosom, and he graciously pitied me, and strengthened me with might in my soul. I found unspeakable relief in telling him all my sor- rows and difficulties. O, he is wonderfully, incon- ceivably gracious 1 ^'' May IS. Had very little freedom or fervency. Was perplexed with the scene before me, and could efiect but little. " May 19. Went with my father to the Association, for the purpose of receiving their approbation to preach the Gospel. Was exceedingly fatigued. " May 20. Was examined and approbated. Was so weak that I could scarcely stand j but was helped in some measure." 108 MEMOIR OP CHAPTER VI His first efforts as a preacher-^ His religious character further developed. Having been regularly introduced and recommended to the churches as a preacher, Mr. Payson proceeded, the next day, to Marlborough, to fulfill his engagement with the people of that place. Change of situation, however, did not interrupt his communion -with God. On the way his mind was engrossed with divine contemplations, and w*ith the duties and responsibili- ties of that new relation in which he now stood to the church and the world. During the time that inter- vened between this and the Sabbath he was not without misgivings; as he complains of being "al- most discouraged and overwhelmed, in view of his unfitness for the ministry ;" and once, of even " wishing himself any thing rather than a minister." He " could hardly conceive it possible that one so inconceivably vile should be a child of God ; but Avas nevertheless helped to cast his burden on the Almighty, and to agonize in prayer to be delivered from this body of death." The Saturday next preceding his first appear- ance in the pulpit, he had " resolved to spend in fasting and prayer ;" but Avhen the day arrived his " health would not permit." The day on which a man first stands forth as the ambassador of God to his fellow- men, is an important era in his life ; but it had been anticipated with so much concern by Mr. Payson, that it seems to have been distinguished by no extraordi- nary strength of feelings. His own account of them is thus expressed : EDWARD PAYSON. * 109 ''"May 24. Sab. Was favored with considerable fervency, life, and sense of dependence this morning. Endeavored to cast myself wholly on the Lord for support. As it was rainy, there were very few people at meeting; and I just got through without stopping. Spoke too fast and too low. Was a good deal depress- ed after meeting. In the afternoon did a little better, but still bad enough. Was very much fatigued, and almost in a fever; but enjoyed some comfort after meeting." His public engagements, important as he felt them to be, did not divert his attention from his own heart. On the contrary, personal religion continued to be a primary concern. Of this, as well as of the varied na- " ture of his spiritual exercises, there is an accumula- tion of evidence : " May 28. Enjoyed a very unusual degree of sweet- ness and fervor this morning. O, how precious did Christ appear to my soul ! How I longed to be a pure flame of fire in his service, to be all zeal, and love, and fervor I With what gratitude did I look up to him, saying. Blessed Savior, behold how happy I am ! and to thee all my happiness is owing. But for thee, I should now have been lifting up my eyes, being in tor- ments. O what shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits ! In the evening, in secret prayer, my soul was filled with unutterable longings and insatiable thirstings after God in Christ. I earnestly desired that all mankind might be as happy as I was ; that they should all see what a glorious, amiable being God is, that they might love and praise him. Re- tired to rest with a clear, sweet, realizing apprehen- M. p. 10 110 MEMOIR OF sion of my Savior's presence, and dropped to sleep in this frame. ^^ May 29. Enjoyed much of the same spiritual sweetness which I felt last evening ; but was much exercised on account of pride, or rather love of ap- plause, Avhich was excited by some approbation which, I lately heard, was bestowed on my preaching. Strove with all my might to be delivered from this hateful temper, and cried for some time to my Supporter and Strength ever to grant me his grace to help. Recalled to mind that I had nothing which I had not received ; that I had most wickedly and shamefully wasted and neglected to improve my talents ; that applause was commonly ill-bestowed ; and that the praise of men was of no Avorth compared with the approbation of God. By the divine blessing on these and other simi- lar considerations, I was helped to overcome it. In the evening was much assisted in prayer. Had a greater s])irit of wrestling for the conversion of sin- ners than T everjiad before." He is often " discouraged by the little which he ac- complishes, and the selfish motives with which that little is defiled." He is assailed by "strong tempta- tions, which drive him to his knees for assistance ;" and by " frequent recurrence of the same temptation," which costs him long and seVere " struggles, before he , is favored with complete victory."" This is followed by '"increased confidence in God, "as able to supply all his need, and at the same time with a" more humbling sense of his unfitness for the ministry." And even when he is in a " lively frame," during several succes- sive days, he is still "astonished at his siow progress jx religion." Again, "pride and unbelief begin to work, EDWARD PAYSON. Ill and render him miserable ;" and for defence against them he resorts "to prayer, pleading various argu- ments for the space of an hour, before he is able to re- press pride and repining thoughts." Nor is this the extremity of his conflict : he has such " a dreadful view of his heart, that he could scarcely support the sight of himself ;" while this, "instead of humbling, only distressed him, so that he is at last obliged to desist, without, as he can perceive, any ansAver at all." The next day he can cry "Abba, Father!" with all the confidence of filial love : " June 6. Had many sweet seasons of prayer during the day, and was assisted in pleading for the presence of the Divine Spirit to-morrow. ^'' June 8. Had great earnestness in secret prayer. Longed to be wholly devoted to God. Thought if I could, from this time, do every thing for his glory, I would willingly resign every worldly comfort, and be the most despised object on the face of the earth. Went to a funeral, and was assisted in speaking to the mourners, and in prayer. " June 9. Renewed covenant, and took God for my God, and gave myself up to him in sincerity, and with more joy than I ever did before. In the afternoon was favored with another most sweet and refreshing sea- son in secret prayer. Rave seldom, if ever, felt more fervency, more hatred of sin, and more longing desires after holiness. " June 10. The family being mostly absent to-day, I resolved to spend it in fasting and prayer for a supply of ministerial gifts and Christian graces ; especially that I might be made an aole, faithful, and successful minister of the New Testament. Was assisted, both 112 MEMOIR OF last night and this morning, in seeking the divine pre- sence and blessing. God graciously heard and an- swered me. I was favored with great and unusual fer- vency and perseverance in prayer ; Avas enabled to con- fess and mourn over my sins, and to mourn because I could not mourn more ; and was assisted in renewing covenant with God, and in giving myself up to be his forever. Was entirely exhausted and worn out in body and mind, before night, by the strong and unutterable desires I felt after personal holiness and the success of Christ's kingdom. On the whole, it has been a very profitable day to my soul, as, by divine goodness, most, if not all, my fast days have been." Four days after this he experienced a most melan- choly reverse, viewing himself as the "most vile, loathsome, worthless wretch in existence ; could only throw himself prostrate, and utter the cry of the pub- lican— ' God, be merciful to me a sinner.' " The cause of this distress is unintentionally indicated. He was " sick in body and mind." But, " As poison oft the force of poison quells," SO the far more wretched condition, and still more melancholy prospects, of a fellow-creature caused him to forget his own misery : " Was called to see a sick man, supposed to be dy- ing ; he was a professor, aged eighty-seven. Found him something alarmed, but he gave no satisfactory evidence of a change. Stated to him his danger and the remedy, but, I fear, to little purpose. Was much assisted in preaching. My strength continued, and even increased, though quite exhausted at the close. Went to see the sick man again. Found him better in body, but worse in mind. LDWARD ?AYSON. 113 ^^June 19. Rose in the same state of mind in which I lay down. Rode out, and felt some better, so that I found some liberty to pray. — P. M. Went with fear and trembling to attend a funeral. Was assisted in speaking to the mourners : as the multitude was very great, I was requested to pray out of doors ; and, though the situation was new, and I v/as unwell, I was car- ried through. Felt some relief from my load of me- lancholy, and was enabled to write. " June 20. Set apart this day for fasting and prayer. Was unusually assisted in pleading for increase in holiness. Felt such intense longings and thirstings after more love to God and man, more devotedness to God's will, more zeal for his glory, that my body was almost overcome. Towards night Avas enabled to plead with greater fervency than ever, so that I trust this will prove the most profitable day I have ever had. In the evening was greatly assisted in prayer, so that I could scarcely retire to rest. '^ June 21. Went to meeting with raised expecta- tions ; but it pleased God to leave me more destitute than usual, though I was carried through. When I first came out of the pulpit I was not in a very good frame ; but before I got half way home, was easy, sa- tisfied, and even pleased to be despised, so that God's will might be done. Was much more assisted in the afternoon. Felt thankful. ^^ June 22. Very unusual degrees of fervor this morning. Very unwell all day, and did little in ray study. In the evening was overwhelmed with a sense of my own unworthiness. " June 23. As soon as I awoke this morning ray heart was filled with most intense love to God and M. p. 10* 114 MEMOIR OF Christ, so that it was even ready to break for the long- ing desires it had to go forth after God. I was greatly assisted in praying that I might be made an instru- ment of promoting the divine glory in the world. " Jwwe 25. Thinking it would be more convenient to keep my weekly fast on this day, sought the divine presence and blessing. Felt some warm affections towards my Savior at first, but afterwards could nei- ther realize my wants, nor pray to have them remov- ed. Continued in this frame till towards night, and was then favored with a deep sense of my utter vile- ness. Was also enabled to plead, even with agony of soul, to be freed from the power of a selfish nature. Could not think of being any longer subject to it. " June 26. Much favored. Felt insatiable desires after holiness, and that I might spend every moment of future life to the divine glory. " June 29. Faint, yet pursuing, is a good motto for me. Could do nothing in the morning, but in the after- noon gave up all hopes of ever doing any thing. Ini- quities seemed to prevail against me, and I was ready to despair ; but, throwing myself on the Lord Jesus for help, I received strength. In the evening was favored with freedom. Felt that I am much more habitually affected by religious subjects than I have been former- ly ; nor are my affections less vehement, or less easily excited. " July 5. Sabbath. Had some devout feelings and desire after assistance this morning, but could not get hold of any thing in a very realizing manner. Was very much deserted in prayer and sermon, and felt much distressed; but in the afternoon was favored with great enlargement, both in prayer and sermon. EDWARD PAYSON. 115 Felt a strong love for souls, and for the Lord Jesus. Was weak and exhausted ; but, after resting awhile, had a most sweet, refreshing, strengthening season in prayer. Never before felt so much of the spirit of the Gospel. Felt like a pure flame of love towards God and man. Self seemed to be almost swallowed up. Felt willing to go any where, or be any thing, by which God could be glorified and sinners saved. Felt my hopes of being useful in the world strengthened. O how lovely, how kind, how condescendingly gra- cious, did my God appear ! Gave myself up to him without reserve, and took him for my only portion. Blessed be his name for this season. " July 6. Rode out this morning, and found much sweetness in continually lifting up my heart to God in fervent ejaculations. In the evening had such a view of the difficulties in my way, and of my exceed- ing sinfulness, that I was ready to sink ; but my bless- ed Savior put forth his hand and caught me. " July 7. Was harassed with wandering, gloomy, and distressing imaginations. Could not fix upon a text, and was much perplexed what to do. Was over- whelmed with melancholy. — P. M. Went to a funeral, and was favored with some assistance. Went to make a visit ; found good Christian people, a most kind re- ception, and profitable conversation." Few enjoyments were more exquisitely satisfying to Mr. Payson than those which he derived from re- ligious intercourse. In a company of fellow Christians, whose feelings would rise responsive to his own when the themes of a Savior's love, and of human obliga- tion and privilege, were agitated, his soul seemed to revel in spiritual delights ; and he was gifted by na- 116 MEMOIR OF ture and grace with the prerogative of infusing a rich portion of his own emotions into the rest of the favored circle. These interviews are remembered by many a surviving pilgrim, as among the liveliest emblems of that " better country," which he has ceased to antici- pate, by actual fruition. It is not without a degree of shrinking that we follow him in his sudden transition from scenes like these into the very depths of distress. " Other griefs," he says, " leave the mind strength to grapple v/ith them; but this oppressive melancholy cuts the very sinews of the soul, so that it lies pros- trate, and cannot exert itself to throw off the load." The next day after penning this graphic and une- qualled description of his real malady, he is seen in the " chariot of Aminadab," his mind moving with an angel's speed, and performing the labor of many days in one : — '• Was favored with fervency and free- dom in prayer. Was greatly assisted in writing through the day, and -wrote nearly two sermons. Felt in a com- posed, thankful frame all day, and felt the most ardent love for the Lord Jesus, and for all mankind." In the mitigated forms of melancholy there is a soul-subduing power, Avhich few are able to resist. It then loses its repulsive character, and the soul of the witness is attracted and melted into sympathy. A mind conscious of its misery, yet retaining its balance, and surveying its own desolations with unrepining submission, presents a spectacle of moral sublimity, not surpassed by any thing which falls under human observation. This constitutes one of the charms of our Savior's character, and much of the value of his ex- ample. In this attitude Mr. Payson may be seen in some of the following extracts, and very often in the course of his life. EDWARD PAYSON. 117 " July 17. Find that the two principal things in which I fail externally, are, the due improvement of time and the government of my tongue. I daily lose many moments — I might almost say hours — in giving way too much to my feelings of gloom and discou- ragement ; and I say many things Avhich at hest are unprofitable. " July 19. Sab. Rose very early, worn out in body and mind ; but felt sweetly resigned to the divine will, and was willing to be assisted as much, and as little, as God should see fit. Had some assistance ; but after meeting was excessively weak and depressed ; thought I would give the world if I never had preached, and it seemed as if I never should go into the pulpit again. " July 20. Overwhelmed, sunk, discouraged with a sense of sin. All efforts seemed to be in vain. Dis- coveries of my vileness, instead of humbling me, as might be expected, only excited discouragement and unbelief; while the manifestations of God's love only make me proud and careless. My wretched soul cleaves to the dust ! " July 22. O what a dreadful, what an inconceiv- able abyss of corruption is my heart ! What an amaz- ing degree of pride and vanity, of selfishness and envy, does it contain ! " July 23. Was excited to feel fretful and peevish at two or three trifling circumstances ; but fled for re- fuge to the throne of grace, and, by praying for myself, for the persons with whom I was disposed to be of- fended, and especially by meditating on the meekness and gentleness of Christ, was enabled to preserve peace and tranquillity of mind. Was much assisted in prayer. # 118 MEMOIR OP "July 24. Was visited by a young student in di- vinity, and had some profitable conversation with him. Was never able to converse in a clearer manner upon religious subjects. " Jubj 25. This being my birth-day, I set it apart for solemn fasting and prayer, with thanksgiving. Af- ter confessing and mourning over the sins of my past life, and contrasting them with God's mercies, and offering up praise and thanksgiving for his goodness, I solemnly renewed covenant with God, and, with my whole heart, so far as I could judge, gave myself, my friends, and all that I have, to be disposed of as he should see fit. I felt willing to live or die, as God pleased, and to go among the Indians, or to any part of the world, where I could be instrumental in pro- moting the glory of God and the happiness of man. Felt unusually longing, insatiable, and intense desires after holiness of heart and life, and especially after humility. Was never enabled to pray more fervently for spiritual blessings — could wrestle and persevere therein. Felt an impression that this is the last birth- day I shall ever see." The next day was the Sabbath, and he was so far spent with its labors, that it was with difficulty he could reach his lodgings. The night was passed without rest ; and of his increased weakness in the morning " Satan was suffered to take advantage, and fill his mind with unutterable anguish." But he ^^ found re- lief in prayer, and felt strengthened to go on with fresh vigor in the Christian course, exclaiming: — O how true it is, that to those who have no might he increaseth strength.'^'' " July 29. I yesterday read an author on the sub- EDWARD PAYSON. | 119 ject of human depravity ; and, being perplexed with some of his objections, prayed to be guided to the truth in this doctrine. Was now convinced, beyond a doubt, that in me naturally dwelt no good thing. O how vile, how loathsome did my heart appear ! I was ready to think I had never known any thing at all of my own character before, and that there were infinite depths in my nature that I could not see. In the course of the day was favored with still further discoveries of my- self, of true holiness, and of Christ, so that I seemed never to have known any thing of religion before. ^^ Aug-. 3. My blessed Savior, compassionating my weakness, was pleased to make me strong in himself, and to favor me with a most refreshing season. Never felt so desirous to depart and be with Christ, and at the same time more willing to live* and undergo all hardships for his glory. Desired that my life might be spent in a close walk with God." His " desire to become a missionary " revived about this time, but did not ripen into a fixed purpose, for the plain reason, that he could not determine that such \vas the will of God. He submitted the decision of the question to his Master in heaven, praying " that God would do with him as he pleased, in this respect." '• Aug. 5. Was greatly perplexed and distressed, yet tried to keep myself in a quiet, waiting frame, but found great difficulty in keeping out impatient, mur- muring thoughts. Could not determine whether my being thus deserted was to punish me for my sloth- fulness and misimprovement of time, or, only for the trial of my faith and patience. My soul renumbered *" Nor love thy life, nor hate ; but what tli. be still. My people urged me very strongly to nake a voyage to Europe, and offered to supply the pulfit and pay all my expenses. But, though I should liki well enough to see Europe, I could not feel any freedom to go. I did not like to have so much expense la^^ished upon me, nor did I know how to lose so much time as such a voyage would require. I am now betttr, and have been able to preach the three last Sabbaths. But I seem to preach in vain. There is no noise nor shak- ing among the dry bones ; and, even of the chu-ch, 1 may almost say. There is no breath in them. But I am kept from impatience, and am not quite discou- raged. As I know how desirous you feel that your children should love each other, I would tell you, if I could, how much I love E. I loved her much before her last visit, and she endeared herself still more to us during that visit. I believe, too, that I love my bro- thers pretty well. Do tell them so. What you say re- specting the complaints of ministers who visit is, I have heard before. I do not wonder at it. They nave some reason to complain. But the reason of our appa- rent coldness is what you suppose it to be. Pressed down to the very dust as I usually am, I cannot al- ways dress my countenance in smiles, nor prevent it from expressing my sufferings. Hence I am unpopu- lar among ministers. It is a trial, but I cannot help it." EDWARD PAYPON. 3T7 CHAPTER XVIII. His private character — His affections and, demeanor as a hus- band, father, master, friend — His gratitude, economy, gene- rosity— His temper of mind under injuries. It is not ever)^ character that will bear a close in- spection. The more intimately some men are view- ed, the less veneration and respect are felt for them. This is true of some in elevated stations, and pos- sessing no small share of public confidence. Even the church presents this anomaly. A man may bear a saint-like visage abroad, and yet be a very fiend in his own family ; may put on meekness and devotion in a worshiping assembly, while he is the haughty tyrant of his wife and children ; may preach self-de- nial and condescension, and yet carry it lordly towards the inmates of his own dwelling, making them the ministers of his Avill and pleasure, or else imbittering their existence by his savage temper and unreasona- ble complaints. Professional men, whose public duties are very nu- merous and urgent, are liable to fail in many of those minute regards which contribute so much to heighten the '' only bliss "Of paradise which has survived the fall." With the prevailing desire and purpose to yield to every claim its due consideration, they are in danger of thinking that they do well if they are only indiffer- enit to those of the least imposing description which originate in their domestic relations ; that they are not ;m. p. 32* 378 MEMOIR OF only excusable, but disinterested and praiseworthy in neglecting, from devotion to the public welfare, the ten thousand little attentions to a wife's comfort and children's instruction and enjoyment, which, though each requires but a moment's time, and, taken singly, scarcely deserves specification, constitute, in the aggregate, the principal part of domestic felicity. Cut a man's circumstances must be very peculiar, to render these two classes of duties incompatible with each other. The look of affection, the kind Avord sea- sonably interposed, the helping hand which love ex- tends, the eye ever awake to anticipate the little wants of the household, the heart prompt to seize opportu- nities to soothe sorrow, to calm excited feelings, to mspire and promote joy, and to alleviate the burden of maternal anxieties and cares which press inces- santly upon the wife — w^hat sacrifice of public duty do these require ? Yet who can calculate the misery w^hich they prevent, or the blessedness which they confer? As it is not great calamities which render men unhappy, but petty injuries, and provocations, and disappointments, constantly recurring, too trifling to excite public sympathy, or to be made the subject of loud complaint — so it is not insulated acts of pro- fuse generosity, and widely separated, though extra- vagant expressions of affection, which constitute the reality or the happiness of friendship — especially of a friendship so pure and endearing as ought ever to sub- sist between those who are united by conjugal ties. These holy bonds are cemented and strengthened by daily and hourly acts and expressions of kind- ness. And where, in the whole compass of mo- tives, could a consideration be found to enforce th is EDWARD PAYSON. 379 conjugal tenderness, so afTecting and impressive as that example of love to which St. Paul refers the hus- band for a pattern of his own duty ? — and it may be added, what other reference could have conferred such exalted honor on the marriage relation ? — " Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church. Be not bitter against them." This was Dr. Payson's law in all -that pertained to conjugal duties ; and to this his daily practice exhibited as exact a conformity perhaps as is ever seen in this state of imperfection. Reasons have already been suggested why a sparing use should be made of those letters which exhibit his tenderness and fidelity in this relation ; but a few ex- tracts may with propriety be introduced : " At Sea, May 10, 1815. "My dear Wife, " As this is the first time I have had occasion to address a letter to you since we were married, I thought it necessary before I began, to consider a few moments by what title to address you. The result ot my meditations was a determination to employ the term ' wife ' in preference to any other. If you ask why I prefer that name, I answer, Because it reminds me that you are mine, my own. I might call you 'Dear Louisa,' 'Dear friend,' or 'Dear' any thing else — and it might mean only that you were a sister, a friend, or a favorite. But when I call you 'My wife,' It seems to me to mean every thing sweet, amiable, and endearing. It not only reminds me that she to wbom I write is, under God, mine, but that she is mine by the gift and appointment of God — mine by the sacred bond of marriage, which seems to give an 380 MEMOIR OF air of sacredness to our union. After all, I have not said what I meant to say, but something a little like it. So do you try to imagine what I meant to say, and then confess that I have succeeded better than you, in choosing a title Avith which to head a letter For my own part I would rather you should call me 'Dear husband,' than 'Dear friend,' or 'Dear Ed- ward,' (fee. However, call me by what 'name you please, your letters will always be precious while they continue to utter the language of affection. I have just been reading one of two which I have al- ready found among my baggage. If you kncAv the pleasure they gave me, you would feel well paid for the trouble of writing. I fully intended to write at least one to you, and leave it behind me ; but I could think of no place to put it, in which you would be cer- tain to find it. But I must hasten to give you some account of our voyage : " Frid'.iy and Saturday we had fair winds and plea- sant v/eu her, and I was not at all sea-sick. But on Sunday il began to rain and blow hard. In the even- ing it increased to quite a gale, but was still favorable ; so that, ua Monday noon, we found ourselves, by ob servation, ninety miles south of Philadelphia. Since that time we have been beating about, vainly trying to get within the capes of Delaware. We have just taken a pilot on board, and hope to reach Philadelphia in about forty-eight hours. Since the gale on Sunday the doctor and 1 have been very sick, and able to eat nothing. For two days and nights. Without intermis- sion, I was tormented with one of my nervous head- aches. This morning it has left me. and I begin to feel something like an appetite. I will only add now, as EDWARD PAYSON. 381 an excuse for writing so miserably, that I am at this moment tossing and rolling about worse than a boy in a swing, or on the end of a plank. Every thing near me, which is movable, rolls from side to side inces- santly ; and I should do the same, did I not hold on to something stable. I will therefore defer the con- clusion of my letter till I am more established. " Philadelphia, May 11. " We arrived here last night after a most delightful sail up the Delaware. Wind and tide both favored us, so that we came at the rate of eleven miles an hour, for ten hours successively. Scarcely ever have I ex- perienced so much pleasure in one day. Every body seemed happy. Dr. and I were in high health and spirits ; the prospect on the banks of the river was delightful, and changing every moment ; the day was fine, and the swiftness of our motion was very agree- able ; and, to crown all, I saw God in his works, and tasted of his goodness in every thing. Excess of plea- sure was almost painful ; before night I was fairly weary of enjoyment, and wished for sleep. I thought of you almost every moment ; and nothing but the pre- sence of yourself and the children was wanting to ren- der me as happy as I can ever be in this world. Last night I dreamed that I had reached home. I felt your tears of affection upon my cheek, and little Edward's arms round my neck ; but I awoke, and it was a dream. I have not yet been ashore. Every body on board is in a bustle-; the passengers hastening to visit their friends, and I standing away in one corner alone, talk- ing with my best, dearest earthly friend. You, at the distance of five hundred miles, have more attractions 382 MEMOIR OF for me than the whole city of Philadelphia, which lies spread out before me, and on which I have scarcely, as yet, bestowed a glance. Tf I did not write thus early I should not be able to send my letter to-day ; and you would be obliged to wait one day longer be- fore you heard from us. I now begin to regret that I did not urge you more to meet me at New Haven. It would be a great gratification to have you so much nearer to me, and to think of meeting you so much sooner. I still have a faint hope that you will be there. " Kiss the children for me ; talk to them about me ; love me, as I do you, better than I did — yes, far better than I did, when I wrote the last letter to you before we were married. Love to all who inquire for me. God be with you, bless you, keep you, my dear, dear wife. " So prays your affectionate husband." In a letter written during another season of absence is the following beautiful passage, in which the gentle and the severe are most charmingly blended : '' Though your letter was consoling, it grieved me for a moment. It did not seem to breathe so much tenderness as your former letters ; but I soon perceiv- ed the reason. Your mind was braced up to help me to bear my b'lrJens; and in such a state of mind it is not easy to foci or express tenderness. I hope you will remember this remark. You know that I am often obliged, while at home, to put on all the iron I can command, in order to bear up against trials and dis- couragements ; and many times, when you know no- thing of it, I am engaged in most distressing inward j:i)vvaku i'ayso.v. [\S3 conflicts. Now, liow can a man sccin tender and af- fectionate at such a lime? Mow could a soldier, in tlu! iieat of battle, slop to smile upon his wife or kiss his cliildren ? Kvcn if he spoke to them at such a time, the hi;{hly raised state of iiis feelings would prohahly give something like sharpness to his voice, JJut I for- bear excuses. Christ was tender and allectionalt! in the severest agonies, the most ilistressing conllicts. 1 hope, if I am ever ])ermilted to return, you will find me a little more like him than I have been." In his strictly domestic letters he sometimes hits ofi* the dilVerent humors, peculiarities, relations and cir- cumstances of himself and his connections with inim- itable vivacity, and a sportiveness which shows how ho could unbend himself when occasion required. A short passaije from the close of one such letter will serve as a specimen of the qualities alluded to; and, like his satire upon quackery, may serve a more uii- portant purpose than mere amusement. In the keen irony which pervades it, is an eflectual rel)uk(! of that doating i)nrtiality which leads so many parents to think their own children prodijj^ies of gimius : " As to baby, she is to be the greatest genius and the greatest beauty in these parts, 1 could easily fill a sheet with proofs of her talents, Sufli(;e it to say that she has four teeth; stands alone; says /;a' and vki'' ; no — 710— very stoutly ; and has been whipped several times for being wiser tjian her father." With a heart always more ready to confer favors than to receive them, his condition was very frequent- ly such, that he needed rathor " to be ministered unto »han to minister;" but the most agonizing sullerings of 384 MEMOIR OF body, when exempted from depression of mind, never rendered him the less cheerful and agreeable husband and father. It is astonishing how " lightly he esteemed such afflictions.*' They seemed to affect him almost as little as violence inflicted on a block or a stone. His demeanor under bodily agonies has often been such, that he was rather envied than pitied by his family and attendants. These were, indeed, seasons of unu- sual gayety and cheerfulness. He has left a descrip- tion of the accumulated evils that were crowded into a few days, into which his playful imagination has thrown so much of humor as to divest the subject of its repulsive character, and clothe it with no ordinary attractions. But it is chiefly interesting as an illustra- tion of a happy temper : " Since I wrote last I have been called to sing of mercy and judgment. My old friend the Sick Head- ache has favored me with an unusual share of his company, and has seemed particularly fond of visiting me on the Sabbath. Then came Cholera Morbus, and, in a few hours reduced me so low that I could have died as easily as not. Rheumatism next arrived, eager to pay his respects, and embraced my right shoulder with such ardor of affection that he had well nigh torn it from its socket. I had not thought much of this gen- tleman's powers before ; but he has convinced me of them so thoroughly, that I shall think and speak of them with respect as long as I live. Not content with giving me his company all day for a fortnight toge- ther, he has insisted on sitting up with me every night, and, what is worse, made me sit up t,oo. During this time my poor shoulder, neck and back seemed to be a place in which the various pains and aches had as- EDWARD PAY SON. 385 lembled to keep holyday ; and the delectable sensa- tions of stinging, pricking, cutting, lacerating, wrench- ing, burning, gnawing, &c. succeeded each other, or all mingled together, in a confusion that was far from being pleasing. The cross old gentleman, though his zeal is somewhat abated by the fomentations, blisters, &c. with which we welcomed him, still stands at my back, threatening that he will not allow me to finish my letter. But enough of him and his companions. Let me leave them for a more pleasing theme. " God has mercifully stayed his rough wind in the day of his east wind. No horrible, heil-born tempta- tions, no rheumatism of the mind has been allowed to visit me in my sufferings ; but such consolations, such heavenly visits as turned agony into pleasure, and constrained me to sing aloud whenever I could catch my breath long enough to utter a stanza. Indeed, I have been ready to doubt whether pain be really an evil ; for, though more pain was crowded into last week than any other week of my life, yet it was one of the happiest weeks I ever spent. And now I am ready to say, Come what will come — sickness, pain, agony, poverty, loss of friends — only let God come with them, and they shall be welcome. Praised, blessed for ever be his name for all my trials and afflictions ! There has not been one too many — all were necessary, and good, and kind." How perfectly versed was he in the heavenly art of extracting the choicest sweets from the bitterest cup ! " honey out of the rock, and oil out of the flinty rock." How much anguish must such a demeanor under suf- ferings have saved " the partners of his blood !" What rare and exquisite enjoyment must it have imparted to M. p. . 33 386 ME310IR OP them, to witness a happiness which the calamities of life could not mar ! It was surely an enviable privi- lege to enjoy instructions rendered so emphatical and impressive by the circumstances of the teacher. In another extract may be seen the lender yearnings of a father's heart — a heart, nevertheless, in a state of sweet subjection to " the Father of spirits, who chast- eneth us for our profit, that we may be partakers of his holiness :" " May 13, 1816. •'Your welcome letter, my dear mother, has just ar- rived. You would pity me, if you knew in what cir- cumstances I sit down to answer. For ten days I have been in what Dr. Young calls the post of obser- vation, darker every hour. Poor little Caroline lies be- fore me, writhing under the agonies of dropsy in the head. The physicians have given her over. Louisa sits before me making her shroud ; yet she will pro- bably live a week longer ; her distress increasing every day, till death closes it. I thought that I was almost without natural affection ; that I did not love my chil- dren ; but I find to my cost that I do. Her distress wrings every nerve and fibre of my heart. If you have ever seen a person die of this dreadful disor- der, I need not describe it. If you have not, descrip- tion can give you but little idea of it. I am, however, mercifully spared the keener distress of being unre- conciled to the trial. As yet, I can bless the name of the Lord, and I bless him that I can. Whether I shall continue to feel so to the end, he only knows. It is pain- ful to see her suffer for my sins. It is dreadful to think of having provoked such a being as God is, to inflict such EDWARD PAYSOJi. 387 ftulferings. But it is right. The affliction is too light, as indeed every affliction short of eternal death would be. I find a great difference between the effect of suf- fering in my own person, and in the person of another. Personal sufferings seem to harden the heart, and make me selfish, so that I can feel little for others. They will drag one's attention home to himself. But suffer- ing in the person of another seems to have an effect directly opposite, and is, thei efore, more beneficial. I needed some such trial, to leach me how to sympa- thize with my people in simi lar circumstances." For more than a week ai terwards he watched this child, " struggling between life and death" — the victim of complicated diseases, the effects of which it would be difficult to describe, and almost congeal one's blood to read. Yet he v/as calm " as the morning when the sun ariseth ;" and though his health was impair- ed by watching, in addition to his labors, he says of this season — " it has been, on the whole, a happy week. I have been unusually free from spiritual trials ; and any thing which frees me from them is a blessing. Be not distressed on our account. We are happy, and can sing ' sweet affliction,' &c. I would not but have had it on any account." It will add nothing to the strength of the impression produced by these extracts, to say that he was a most kind and tender husband, a most faithful and affection- ate father ; but it is adding something to their import to affirm that, in him, these qualities were uniform, and manifested in his daily intercourse with his household. He Avas the companion of his children. Not unfre- quently would he descend, as it were, to their level, 38S MEMOIR OF and mingle for a few moments in their pastimes, and even invent new diversions for them; particularly- such as would call forth exertions of skill and inge- nuity— so that their very amusements might prove a profitable exercise, and contribute to the developement of their intellectual faculties. Games of chance, and every thing which bore a distant resemblance to them, he utterly disallowed. He delighted to amuse them with pictures, at the same time pouring into their minds a knowledge of the arts, or of historical charac- ters, or of geographical and statistical facts, or of the natural history of animals, or whatever else would be most readily suggested by the picture. Often would he entertain his children, either from the stores of his own memory or from his still richer invention, with tales and fables ; from which it was their task to deduce the moral, as an exercise of their perceptive and reasoning faculties, in pay for the en- tertainment which he had afforded them. If they failed, he would, of course, make the application himself. So far as he exerted himself for the intellectual ad- vancement of his children, he did it not so much by set lessons and at seasons set apart for that purpose exclusively, as by incidental instructions. There were many days when his engagements left him no time to meet them, except at their meals ; then — indeed it was his common practice — he would im- prove the time spent at the table for this purpose — pro- posing various questions, and inviting inquiries from them, always leaving them with a subject for consi- deration, and often calling upon them at night to men- tion any new idea which they had acquired during the day. He Avas much devoted to the welfare of his EDWARD PAYS ON. 389 children ; and his cares, burdens and maladies were oppressive indeed, when they did not share a father's attentions. To instruct them in religion was of course his first care. Here, also, he wisely consulted their age and capacities, and imparted it in measure and kind as they were able to bear. He doubted the expediency of giving religious instruction only at stated periods, and dealing it out with parade and formality, and in tedious addresses. His motto was — " Line upon line, precept upon precept ; here a little, and there a little," as occasion offered, or the emergency demanded. But he was master as well as father; "one that ruled well his own house, having his children in sub- jection with all gravity." He habitually explained his commands to such of his children as were of sufficient age to understand and appreciate them ; and always referred to the Scriptures as the umpire from whose decision there was no appeal. " The Bible says thus," was the invariable and ultimate argument for enforc- ing obedience. Appeals of this kind contribute greatly to inspire an early reverence for the sacred book. It was a willing obedience, and from exalted principles, which he aimed to secure. He treated his domestics as if he believed that "God made of one blood all the people that dwell upon the earth" — as if he expected to stand wdth them at the bar, where " he shall have judgment without mercy, who hath showed no mercy." They shared his re- ligious instructions, and were remembered in his prayers. He also exacted of his children, as an invio- lable duty, kind and considerate treatment towards the domestics. To several of them his counsels and M. p. 33* 390 MEMOIR OF prayers were blessed. To one who had been anxious for her own salvation in consequence of his previous fidelity, and apparently lost her impressions, he affec- tionately said, as she entered the parlor bearing a pitcher of water — "I hope the time may never come when you will long for a drop of that water to cool your tongue." It was a word in season — she became a Christian. Another was about to leave his family for a gay circle, with the prospect of entering a new relation, from which he apprehended danger to hei soul. At family prayer, the last time she was expect- ed to be present, he prayed that the separation might not be eternal. The petition was remembered ; she soon returned to her service in his family, exhibited evidence of conversion, and afterwards died in faith. In his family devotions he was never tedious. They were always impressive, and adapted with surprising appropriateness to the existing circumstances of the household. He delighted to address Jehovah through Christ, as his God by covenant; and hence he derived some of those powerful arguments which he pleaded in interce*;sion for his children, and one strong ground of hope that God would convert and save them. To obtain any adequate conception of the manner in which God was acknowledged and honored in his habitation, recourse must be had, as in other instances, to his own language : ''April, 1816. "Another precious passage is that in Zecha- riah, 'In that day shall there be upon the bells of the horses. Holiness to the Lord,'' &c. I preached on it lately, and, among other things, observed that, in that day, every action would be performed as the most so- EDWARD PAYSON. 391 lemn religious duties are now ; every house and place would be a temple ; every day like a Sabbath ; and every meal like the Lord's supper. We have since been trying to have the prophecy fulfilled at our house ; and, though Ave succeed miserably enough, yet the bare attempt has given us a happiness unknown before. One thing which has been greatly blessed to us, is having family prayer at noon as well as morning and evening. It showed us how far we often get from God during the day, even Avhen we begin and close it with him. In some families this Avould be impossible ; and tlien half an hour spent alone would answer the purpose as well. I find it requires almost constant rubbing and chafing to make the blood circulate in such frozen souls as ours ; and, after all, it avails nothing, if the Sun of Righteousness does not shine." Dr. Payson was the father of eight children, two of whom, a son and a daughter, he followed to the grave. Six survive him, two daughters and four sons. Many persons were honored with a large share of Dr. Payson's confidence ; but it is very doubtful whe- ther he ever poured out all the feelings of his bosom to any beyond his nearest relations, if, indeed, he did to any besides his God. It required a reach of sympa- thy beyond what man is ordinarily capable of exercis- ing to enter deeply into his experience. He could not bring himself to tell of the peculiar agonies or rap- tures which by turns tortured and blessed him, to any heart that could not send back a response. And Avhere, almost, could that heart be found ? And in this the writer, Avhile tracing his religious experience, has often thought he was justified by the example of Paul, 392 MEMOIR OF after his rapture. Still, while there were secrets in his own bosom of too sacred a character to be made com- mon by participation, his intercourse with his flock, individually, was that of a highly endearing, tender, and confidential friendship. " If there were ever a minister" — these are his own words — "blessed with a kind and faithful people, I am. If I were not so of- ten sick, I should be too happy. When I come into my congregation, I feel as a father surrounded by his children. I do not feel as though there were an ill- disposed person among them. I can throw off my ar- mor without fearing that an enemy is there with a dagger ready to stab me." Their affection was most fully and faithfully reciprocated. Never did a minis- ter more ardently love his charge, or enter with great- er facility into all their interests and feelings. When any of them were visited with calamity, he was among the very first to tender his sympathy ; and always left them " lightened." In listening to his conversation and prayers, the burden would often fall off. " Beside the bed where parting life was laid, " And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd," he was at once faithful and tender ; and if " Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul," it was because it had been pointed to the " smitten Rock," to the " Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world." " Comfort came down^ the trembling wretch to raise, " And his last faltering accents whisper'd praise." He was eminently susceptible of gratitude. A favor, which would be received with a very summary ac- knowledgment by many, would make his " shoulders EDWARD PAYSON. 393 ache under the load of obligation that was laid upon them." And if he "bore it pretty well, it was because nothing renders a man so careless about increasing his debts, as the consciousness that he shall never be able to pay." Economy was a very noticeable feature in his cha- racter. It was a principle with him to spend nothing merely for ornament. The money which came into his possession he regarded as a talent for which he was accountable ; and so scrupulous was he as to the dis- position which he made of it. that he is thought to have regarded some things as forbidden luxuries which would have been for his welfare. In his furniture, in his apparel, and that of his household, and in the pro- visions of his table, there was a plainness and a sim- plicity well becoming a man professing and teaching godliness. Connected with this quality was a noble generosity of soul. He did not save to hoard, but to bless others. He did not love money for its own sake ; and so obvious to all was his disinterestedness, that, so far as is known, he never fell under the charge or even the suspicion of being avaricious. If the tempo- ral or spiritual necessities of his fellow-creatures de- manded relief, his money was as free for their use as a cup of cold water. He had declined purchasing an article of convenience for the family one morning, be- cause, as it was not absolutely necessary, he thought they could not afford it. The same day he gave ten dollars to a woman in reduced circumstances, who called at his house. At another time he said to his church, who had handed in their contribution of fifty or sixty dollars for foreign missions — " I am ashamed to send so small a sum, and shall forward one hundred 394 MEMOIR OF dollars as your contribution ; and you may act your pleasure about indemnifying me." These are only in- stances out of a multitude ; the same liberality cha- racterized him as long as he lived. He continued to give till after he was unable to put his name to a sub- scription paper. It was with reluctance that he re- ceived from his people what they were forward to give as a compensation for his services ; and for two suc- cessive years he actually relinquished four hundred dollars. He never would have possessed a dwelling- house in fee if his people had waited for his consent. Acting according to the impulse of their own liberal- ity, and their convictions of what was due to him in return for the sums which he had relinquished, they purchased and secured to him, by deed, a house more spacious than he would have chosen ; and this was all his property, beyond actual expenditures, which he did not give away. In this connection a document will be introduced, containing a request, such as it would be equally hon- orable to ministers and people if there were more fre- quent occasion for : *' To the members of the Second Parish in Portland, hi parish meeting assembled— •' Gentlemen, " It is a circumstance which claims my thankful acknowledgments, and of which I hope ever to retain a grateful recollection, that, while many ministers are constrained to ask, and perhaps ask in vain, for an in- crease of salary, tiie only request relative to a support which I have ever had occasion to present to you is, that my salary may be diminished. Such a request, EDWARD PAYSON. 395 you will recollect, I made through the mediuiA of one of the congregation at your last annual meeting;, but your kindness and liberality prevented you from com- plying with it. I now repeat that request in writing. The salary which you voted me at the time of my set- tlement is amply sufficient for my support ; and more than this I am unwilling to receive ; for I can never consent to acquire wealth by preaching the Gospel of Christ. Permit me then respectfully, but earnestly, to request that the addition which you have so gene- rously made to my salary, the last two years, may be discontinued. "That the Master whom I serve may repay all your kindness to his servant, is the first wish and most earnest prayer of " Your deeply indebted and grateful pastor, "Edward Payson* " PortloAid, April 27, 1821." In tbe same spirit, after his last sickness had made such inroads upon his strength as almost wholly to •disqualify him for exertion, he dictated the following communication : '' April 27, 1827. ■" T0 the members of the Second Congregational Church in Portland, in parish meeting assembled — "Brethren and Friends, " Of the kindness and generosity with which you have invariably treated me ever since I became your pastor, and especially since the commencement of my present indisposition, I am deeply sensible. Nor have you given me the smallest reason to suppose that your 396 MEMOIR OF kindness is exhausted, or even diminished. But I must not allow myself to encroach upon it too far. It is my indispensable duty to prefer your spiritual welfare to every personal consideration. If I have reason to believe that your religious interests would be promoted by a dissolution of the connection be- tween us, it is incumbent on me to request that it may be dissolved ; and to retire from a station, the duties of which I am no longer able to perform. And have 1 not reason to believe that such is the fact? With the present state of my health you are suffi- ciently acquainted. It has already occasioned you much trouble and expense. You have waited a rea- sonable time for its restoration, and the probability that it will ever be restored, is by no means great. It is highly important that such a society as this should enjoy the services of a minister who possesses a vigorous con- stitution, jfirm health, and ministerial qualifications of the first order ; and the salary which it gives entitles it to expect, and will enable it to command the ser- vices of such a minister. In view of these circum- stances, I feel a prevailing persuasion that it is my duty to propose a dissolution of the connection between us, and to request you to unite with me in calling a council for the purpose of dissolving it. Such a pro- position and request I now submit to you. " That on this and every other occasion you may be guided by that wisdom which is from above, and led to the adoption of such measures as shall be most conducive to the glory of God ^nd your own best in- terests, is the prayer of " Your affectionate friend and pastor, "Edward Payson." EDWARD PAYSON. 397 This request met a most honorable reception. Their reply to *it expressed the most " deep and afiectionate sympathy with their much esteemed pastor, and a sense of their high obligations for the very valuable services which a kind Providence had permitted and enabled him to perform for a long course of years ; and appreciating his present services, much as they were interrupted and curtailed by sickness, of pai-a- mount value and interest to them, they did respect- fully solicit that he would be pleased to withdraw his request ; and thus permit them to hope, that whatever might be the state of his health in future, they should enjoy the benefit of his counsel and prayers, till he was called to receive the reward prepared for the faithful servants of Christ." — With these wishes, so affectionately and gratefully expressed, he complied; and continued, in such ways as he could, to advance their spiritual interests, till removed by the undoubted will of God. But there are in the lives of eminently faithful mi- nisters, events of another character, which it is pain- ful to narrate, and yet which ought not to be passed over in silence. The hostility which they sometimes experience illustrates the depravity of mankind, and confirms the authority of Scripture by evincing the truth of the declaration — " If any man will live godly in Chnst Jesus, he shall suffer persecution." Dr. Payson was such "a terror to evil doers," that from time to time they seemed bent on destroying his re- putation, and multiplied their slanders till they ceased to gain any credence even with the vilest. When these designs upon his character proved abor- tive, their enmity manifested itself in other forms. M. p. 34 398 MEMOIR OF He once alludes to this opposition in his letters. It was in a year eminently distinguished by God's bless- ing on his labors. '''July 4:, 1810. "Enemies rage most terribly. You have pro- bably seen in the papers an account of the attempt to burn our meeting-house. We have not discovered the author ; but there is no doubt that are at the bottom of it. It was little less than a miracle that the house was not burnt, with many others. Never, since I have been here, has the enmity of the heart been permitted to rage as it does now." CHAPTER XIX. Further particulars relating to his pcr^oyial history and reli- gious exercises J in connection luith his pastoral labors and their results. It was not thought desirable to interrupt a descrip- tion of " the pastor in action " by frequent references to dates ; or to pay any special regard to chronolo- gical order in a rehearsal of scenes and employments which were more or less common to every year of his ministry. In this chapter, however, that order is re- sumed, for the purpose of continuing the history of his religious experience through the various occur- rences and vicissitudes of his life. The particulars EDWARD PAYSON. 399 will be given almost entirely in his own language, and in insolated extracts, which will be found, how- ever, to possess the principal advantages of a connect- ed narrative, besides several others which no second- hand statements could secure. They were sketched at the time, and have the vividness of first impres- sions in view of truths and facts as they were succes- sively brought under notice, while the circumstances in which they are penned are a sufficient guarantee of their accuracy. The articles of intelligence, and modes of elucidating and enforcing truth, Avhich are interspersed, Vv^ill enhance their value ; while they will enable the reader to view the subject of this Memoir in a greater variety of attitudes, and to learn his ex- ercises and feelings in numerous circumstances — in prosperity and under the rod ; when borne along on the full tide of success, and when thwarted at every step 5 when religion was triumphant, and when " the ways of Zion mourned." " Portland, June 14, 1813. "My dear Mother, " We arrived here last Friday in safety, and found every thing had been preserved by our merciful Pro- tector. We very soon had reason to acknowledge how much his protection is superior to ours ; for, the very night after our return, our garden was laid waste. " For a few days after my return I was exceedingly unwell, and there seemed less prospect of my conti- nuing in the ministry than ever. In addition, I was more severely exercised with spiritual trials than I have been for two years past ; so that the five days succeeding my return Avere, perhaps, as dark as any 400 MEMOIR OF five days thai I ever experienced. But now, blessed be God! the scene has wonderfully changed. For three days I have felt something more like health than I have enjoyed for years ; something of that spring and elasticity of spirit which used to render life tolera- ble and exertion pleasant. How long it will continue I know not. It seems too good to last. I see, how- ever, already, that if the burden of sickness is to be removed, some other burden, perhaps a worse one, must be imposed in its place. I am ready to run wild with the pleasure of not feeling pain ; though, even now, I am not altogether free from it. If my health should be restored, I shall consider it as little less than a miracle ; and shall feel as if your deafness may be removed. Indeed I think it will strengthen my faith as much as it will my body. It will also remove some spiritual difficulties and doubts, w^hich have been a terrible hinderance to me in my race, and given un- belief more advantage over me than all other things united. But how I ramble ! " We have little encouraging of a religious nature, though the church are, I believe, much engaged. They ought to be ; for I find that ' Portland Christians' have at least a name to live at the westward ; a better name, I fear, than they will ere long deserve, even if they merit it now." " September 12, 1814. " I engaged to go on a mission, if my people would consent; but they will not hear of it. The church would consent, but the congregation will not. You will learn from the newspapers that we are in a state of alarm here, or I should say nothing of it. Ever since our return the streets have been filled with wa- EDWARD PAYSON. 401 gons, &c. carrying goods out of town, and the alarm continues and increases. We had hoped to have a quiet Sabbath yesterday ; but in the morning the chairman of the committee of public safety called and informed me that the committee had issued a hand- bill, requiring all the male citizens to work through the day on the fortifications, and stating that the usual religious services of the day must be dispensed with. With this order our church absolutely refused to com- ply, and we had divine service both parts of the day as usual, and a considerably large congregation. This morning all is bustle and confusion through the town. W"e have sent a few things to Gorham ; and, in case of an attack, we can pack into the chaise and follow. You have no reason to entertain the smallest fears for our personal safety. In ten minutes after an alarm is given we can be safe out of town. The church seem to feel in some measure as I could wish : strong confidence in God, mingled with a deep sense of ill- desert and submission to his will. They have a pray- er-meeting every evening; and next Thursday, if cir- cumstances will permit, we are to have a fast. At our house all is still and quiet. We hear little of the noise, and have slept undisturbed every night till the last. I cannot think we are in much danger. Not that great dependence is to be placed in our means of defence ; but I cannot think God means to destroy this place. We needed something to rouse us, and to remind us that we were engaged in war, and to excite us to pray for the removal of God's judgments ; and this effect the alarm has, I trust, produced. It tends powerfully to wean us from the world ; so that, thus far, it has been a mercy." M. p. 34* 402 MEMOIR OF " Nov. 14, 1814. " We are going on as well as can be expected. L. is well ; little L. better than for a year past ; my own health sloAvly but gradually improving. Our souls too, I hope, are not quite so far from prospering and being in health as they have been ; the church are reviving, and there are many hopeful appearances in the congregation. But the best of all is, that we seem to be waking up in this part of the country, as well as in others, to the state of public morals. Delegates from nineteen towns in this vicinity met in this town last week, and adopted a number of measures to se- cure the proper observance of the Sabbath. A similar meeting for the county of Lincoln is to be held this week at Wiscasset. These things, and others of a similar nature, of which I hear abroad, almost lead me to cry with old Simeon — ' Let thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation !' We shall yet see peace upon our Israel ; and I have very little doubt, that, after the war ceases, we shall have greater revivals through the land than we have ever yet seen. It was harder to do what has been done, both in the world and among us, than to do what remains. The wheel is now in motion, and will be kept so with comparative ease. It is a glorious day to live in ! So much to be done ; so much to be prayed for; so much to be seen. I was wrong in saying I wished to depart in peace. I wish to stay, and see, and do a little more. I would not now exchange a place in the church below, even for a place in heaven. The longer our time of labor is, the better. There will be time enough for rest. " Dr. died last week. I saw him repeatedly during his illness; but not a word of a religious na- EDWARD PAYSON. 403 ture did he utter ; and I am told he said as little to others. He was a minister upwards of fifty years. What a meeting it must be, when a pastor meets all who have died under his ministry during so many years; especially if he has never faithfully warned them! " Our people feel the consequences of the war very much. I am astonished to see how well they continue to pay my salary ; and still more, to see how liberally they give to every proper object. Their deep poverty serves to set off the riches of their liberality. If they were like many congregations, I should soon be dis- missed. Many, how^ever, have moved away on ac- count of the war ; and if it continues, the rest must follow. However, we serve a good Master ; and while he has work for us to do, he will feed us. I rejoice to to learn that you find ' the joy of the Lord your strength.' It is strength indeed. I hope my father finds as much reason to rejoice in the progress of re- formation in New-Hampshire as Ave do here." ''June 2, 1815. "I shall not be able to visit Rindge this sum- mer. Journeying does me so little good, and I have been absent so long, that I shall not dare to think of it at present. Were it possible, I w^ould come about the time of the ordination of the Missionaries at New- buryport, to which our church is invited ; but I fear it will not be. " I am sorry for poor ; but my sorrow is miti- gated, if not removed, by reflecting that if he is a Christian all things are working for his good ; and if he is not, an education will do him more harm than good. I have grown quite hard-hearted as it respects 404 MEMOIR OF the trials of Christians. I scarcely pity them at all while under the rod, though I am sorry we all need it so much. However, I sympathize with you, my dear mother, in your want of hearing. It is a grievous trial ; and if, as you intimate, frequent letters will in any degree mitigate it, I will strive to write oftener. I trust our revival has not ceased ; though it will not, I fear, prove so extensive as I at first hoped." " Sept. 7, 1815. " Do not feel anxious about me. I am, you know, in good hands — in better hands than yours ; and when you consider how good God has been to me, you can have no reason to fear that he will deal with me otherwise than well. " I have little to write, respecting our situation in a religious view, that is encouraging ; but things look promising in many other places at a distance. You have heard of the revivals at Litchfield and New-Ha- ven. An account of these revivals, read in Rowley, has occasioned the commencement of a similar work there, which promises to become extensive. There is also considerable attention among the students in Academy ; and a letter, which I have just received from a gentleman in Baltimore, informs me that there is a revival in an academy in that vicinity, and in two or three other places. It certainly appears more and more probable that God is about to work wonders in most of our seminaries of learning ; and, if so who can calculate the blessed effects which will be the result ? " The revolution in Dartmouth College makes a greal noise here. Losing Mr. Brown will be a srievous blo"w EDWARD PAYSON. 405 to me. I think the trustees could hardly have made a better choice." On perusing the following, it is difficult to repress a wish that the writer had been under the necessity ot " fitting up a house " every year : " My dear Mother, " I fear you will think me very negligent in delay- ing so long to answer your letter ; but I have an excuse ready. We have been moving, and repairing our house, and I have been almost incessantly engaged night and day. We have had half a score of workmen in the house, and I have been obliged to superintend and work with them ; and this, in addition to parochial du- ties, has so hurried me that I have scarcely had time to eat. You will be glad to hear that my cares and la- bors have had a very beneficial effect with respeci to my health, so that I have gained more in fourteen days than in as many months previous. I have also enjoyed a much higher degree of spiritual health than usual, and have had many special mercies, both of a tempo- ral and religious nature ; so that I have seldom passed six happier weeks than the last. Our house proves much mure convenient than we expected, and we have seen much of the wisdom and goodness of God in bring- mg us into it. It is the same house in which I former- ly boarded when preceptor — in which I spent some months in folly and sin, and in which I received the news of Charles's death, and began to turn my atten- tion to religion. These circumstances give it an inte- rest of a peculiar kind, and furnish matter for many humbling, many mournful, and not a few thankful and 406 MEMOIR OF profitable reflections. O what a Master do I serve ! I have known nothing, felt nothing all my days, even in comparison with what I now see in him. Never was preaching such sweet work as it is now. Never did the world seem such a nothing. Never did heaven appear so near, so sweet, so overwhelmingly glorious. * * * God's promises appear so strong, so solid, so real, so substantial — more so than the rocks and everlasting hills ; and his perfections — what shall I say of them ? When I think of one, I wish to dwell upon it for ever ; but another, and another, equally glorious, claims a share of admiration ; and when I begin to praise, I wish never to cease, but have it the commencement of that song which will never end. Very often have I felt as if I could that moment throw^ off the body with- out staying to ' first go and bid them farevrell that are at home in my house.' Let who will be rich, or ad- mired, or prosperous ; it is enough for me that there is such a God as Jehovah, such a Savior as Jesus, and that they are infinitely and unchangeably glorious and happy." The year 1816 was the most remarkably distinguish- ed for the effusions of the Holy Spirit on his people of any year of his ministry, with the exception of that in which his happy spirit took its flight, when he preached so much from the bed of death. This fact the reader will regard as a striking commentary on the subjoined extracts from his diary : " Dec. 16, 1815. Since the last date I have passed through a greater variety of scenes and circumstances than in almost any period of equal length in my whole life, and have exuerienced severer sufferings, ccnfiicts, EDWARD PAYSON. 407 and disappointments. Some time in February I began to hope for a revival ; and after much prayer for direc- tion, and, as I thought, with confidence in God, I took some extraordinary and perhaps imprudent measures to hasten it. But the event did not answer my expec- tations at all ; and in consequence I was throAvn into a most violent commotion, and was tempted to think God unkind and unfaithful. For some weeks I could not think of my disappointment with submission. There were many aggravating circumstances attend- ing it, which rendered it incomparably the severest disappointment, and, of course, the most trying temp- tation I had ever met with. It injured my health to such a degree that I was obliged to spend the summer in journeying to recover it. This, however, did not avail, and I returned worse than I went away, and plunged into the depths of discouragement. Was obliged, sorely against my will, to give up my evening lectures, and to preach old sermons. After a while, however, my health began to return, though very slow- ly. God was pleased to revisit me, and to raise me up out of the horrible pit and miry clay in which I had so long lain ; and my gratitude for this mercy far ex- ceeded all I felt at my first conversion. Sin never ap- peared so odious, nor Christ so precious before. Soon after this my hopes of a revival began to return. About a month since very favorable appearances were seen, and my endeavors to rouse the church seemed to be remarkably blessed. My whole soul Avas gradually wrought up to the highest pitch of eager expectation aiid desire ; I had great assistance in observing a day of fasting and prayer ; the annual thanksgiving was blessed in a very remarkable and surprising manner, 408 MEMOIR OF both to myself and the church. From these and many other circumstances I was led to expect, very confi- dently, that the next Sabbath, which was our commu- nion, would be a glorious day, and that Christ Avould then come to convert the church a second time, and prepare them for a great revival. I had great freedom in prayer, both on Saturday night and Sabbath morn- ing ; and after resigning, professedly, the whole mat- ter to God, and telling him that if he should disap- point us it would be all right, I went to meeting. But what a disappointment awaited me ! I was more strait- ened than for a year before ; it was a very dull day, both to myself and the church ; all my hopes seemed dashed to the ground at once, and I returned home in an agony not to be described. Instead of vanquishing Satan, I was completely foiled and led captive by him ; all my hopes of a revival seemed blasted, and 1 ex- pected nothing but a repetition of the same conflicts and sufferings which I had endured after my disap- pointment last spring, and which I dreaded a thousand times worse than death. Hence my mind was exceed- ingly imbittered. But, though the storm was sudden and violent, it was short. My insulted, abused Master pitied and prayed for me, that my faith might not fail ; and therefore, after Satan had been permitted to sift me as wheat, I was delivered out of his power ; and, strange as it even now appears to me, repentance and pardon were given me, and I was taken with greater kindness than ever to the bosom of that Savior whom I had so insulted. Nor was this all ; the trial was be- neficial to me. It showed me the selfishness of my prayers for a revival, and my self-deception in think- ing 1 was willing to be disappointed, if God pleased. EDWARD PAYSON. 409 It convinced me that I was not yet prepared for such a blessing, and that much more wisdom and grace were necessary to enable me to conduct a revival properly, than I had ever imagined before. On the whole, though the past year has been one of peculiar trial and suffer- ing, I have reason to hope it has not been unprofitable, and that I have not suffered so many things altogether in vain. I have seen more of myself and of Christ than I ever saw before ; and can at times feel more of the frame described in Ezekiel, 16 : 63, than I ever ex- pected to feel a year since. The Gospel way of salva- tion appears much more glorious and precious, and sin more hateful. I can see, supposing a revival is to come, that it was a great mercy to have it so long delayed. My hopes that it will yet come are perhaps as strong as ever, but my mind is on the rack of suspense, and I can scarcely support the conflict of mingled anxieties, desires and expectations. Meanwhile appearances are every week more favorable, the heavens are covered with clouds, and some drops have already fallen. Such are the circumstances in which I commence the ninth year of my ministry ; and surely never did my situa- tion call more loudly for fasting and prayer than now. " In the preceding sketch of the past year I have said little of my own wickedness, or of God's good- ness ; for, indeed, I know not what to say. The simple statements which I have made of facts speak more loudly in favor of Christ, and against myself, than any thing else can do. I used to think that repent- ance and confession bore some small proportion to my sins ; but now there seems to be no more propor- tion between them than between finite and infinite. I can see that I once trusted much to my repentance M. P. 35 410 MEMOIR OP but now my repentance seems one of my worst sins, on account of its exceeding imperfection. " For an hour or two I have enjoyed as much as- sistance as I usually do on such occasions ; but I see more and more how exceedingly little there is of spi- rituality m my best affections. Imagination, natural affections, and self-love, compose by much the largest part of my experiences. Indeed, I can scarcely dis- cover any thing else. It is like a fire just kindled; much smoke, some blaze, but little heat. I have been prayinjj, more than I ever did before, for more spiri- tual affection and clearer views ; but as yet my gra- cious God does not answer my request. But he knows best, and with him I can leave it. " Was favored, while reading Owen on the He- brews, with new and unusually clear views of many things respecting our Savior's sufferings, which filled me with wonder and delight. O how little have I known, how little do I still know of the great mys- tery of godliness ! In the evening hoped I felt some- thing of what the apostle calls travailing in birth for souls. I was in such a state of mind as I cannot well describe, but it seemed to be almost insupportable. " Dec. 17. Had a most sweet, refreshing season in prayer last night. The unsearchable riches seemed opened to me, to take as much as I pleased. Had great liberty in praying for a revival: and could scarcely give over the blessed work, though much ex- hausted. This morning was in the same frame. Was especially affected and delighted with the proof of love which he required from Peter, ' Feed my sheep.' Prayed that I might be enabled to feed them this day. Went to the house of God with more ot EDWARD PAYSON. 411 such a frame as I wished than usual. I have hitlierto had no liberty- in praying for a revival in public. How- ever much I might feel at home, it was taken from me as soon as 1 entered the meeting-house. But to-day my fetters were taken off. I could pray for nothing but a revival. " Dec. 18. Felt unusually oppressed with a sense of the wisdom and grace necessary to conduct a re vival \ but was enabled to trust in God to supply my wants. Spent the evening with Christian friends. Prayed for a blessing on the visit, and found it a sweet season. After my return had a most refreshing and delightful season in prayer. Had no longer the least doubt of a revival, and my joy was unspeakable. Con- tinued sweetly meditating and praying till I fell asleep. " Dec. 19. New joys, new praises. Had a most ra- vishing view of Christ this morning, as coming at a distance in the chariot of his salvation. In an instant he was with me and around me ; and I could only cry, Welcome ! welcome ! a thousand times welcome to my disconsolate heart, and to thy widowed church! O, joy unspeakable and full of glory ! — while seeing him not, I feel and believe his presence. Spent the evening with the church, after much prayer, both alone and with others, that Christ would meet and bless us. Went to meeting trembling, and my fears were realized. I Avas entirely deserted, had nothing to say, and was obliged to leave them abruptly. They sat stup.d awhile after I left them, and then sepa- rated. This was a sore tria»l. Impatience and self- will struggled hard for leave to say something against Christ; but I was enabled to flee to the throne of grace, and found relief. One thing is certain : I have 412 MEMOIR OP no direct promise that there shall be a revival ; "but I have a thousand direct, positive assurances that Christ IS faithful, and wise, and kind. This, there- fore, faith will believe, whatever becomes of my hopes and wishes ; and it is evidently absurd to pro- fess to trust in God for what he has not expressly promised, while I do not believe his positive assur- ances. " Dec. 24. Enjoyed great nearness to Christ in fa- mily prayer. Seemed to feel a perfect union with him, and to love with a most intense love every thing that is dear to him. Christians seemed inex- pressibly dear to me, and I loved to pray for them as for myself. But, O, where have I been ? and what have I been doing all my days ? How terribly blind and ignorant of religion have I been ! and noio I know nothing, feel nothing as I ought. Saw that there is incomparably more to be known and felt in religion than I ever thought of before. What a pity that I have lost so many of the best years of my life in con- tented ignorance; and what would I not give for the years I have lost. I never can be humbled sufficiently for my indolence. As it respects a revival, I feel easy. My anxiety has subsided into a settled calm, arising from a full persuasion that Christ will come and save us. " Dec. 30. Was greatly assisted in praying for a revival, and felt almost a full assurance th-^t it would be granted. Felt sweetly melted, and almost over- powered with a sense of God's sovereign, unmerited love. Could not forbear saying to him that he ought not to save such a guilty creature ; or, at least, ought not to employ me, and bless my labors ; but he seem- EDWARD PAYSON. 413 ed to reply with great power and majesty, 'I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy.' Could not but submit that it should be so. Never did the so- vereignty of God appear so sweet as then. Spent part of the evening in religious conversation with my domestics. " Jan. 4, 1816. Preached the evening lecture with- out much sensible assistance. After meeting, one ot the church informed me that in the afternoon a man, (who had formerly been one of the first merchants in town,) once a professor, but who has been for many years an apostaie and bitter enemy to religion, came to him apparently much distressed respecting his sal- vation ; and that the same man was at lecture. This good news filled us with joy and triumph, so that all doubts of a revival seemed removed. O, I wanted, even then, to begin my eternal song ; and excess of happiness became almost painful. Could scarcely sleep for joy, though much fatigued. '■'- Jan. 5. Had similar views and feelings this morn- ing, but less vivid. Took a review of God's dealings with me, and of my own exercises respecting the re- vival. Saw infinite wisdom and goodness in every thing that God has done, and could not but admire and praise. As to my feelings, though they seemed little less than a mass of pride, and selfishness, and im- patience, yet I could not but see that there was some real faith under all, which God had accepted. After- wards, however, reflecting on the feelings of papists towards their saints, and pagans towards their idols, I was led to doubt whether I had exercised any real faith at all. Attended a fast. Endeavored to convince the church how polluted the conference-room must be M. P. 35^ 414 MEMOIR OF in the sight of God, in consequence of the sins which nad been committed there. Then made a confession of them, and prayed that it might be cleansed. Then did the same with respect to our closets, and houses, and afterAvards the house of God, and the communion table. Then read and expounded the new covenant, and showed what was meant by taking hold of it. Fi- nished by imploring all the blessings of this covenant on the church, and praying for a revival. "Jan. 7. Sabbath. Had no freedom either in prayer or preaching, and the congregation appeared uncom monly stupid. Concluded that there was to be no re- vival under me. Was exceedingly distressed, but felt no disposition to murmur or be impatient. Withdrew to my chamber to weep and pray. It seemed clear that I was the great obstacle to a revival. I have not 'rendered again according to the benefit done unto me, but my heart has been lifted up ; therefore is there wrath upon my people.' Threw myself in the dust at God's feet. Derived some comfort from often repeating those words, ' I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious.' It seemed sweet as well as rea- sonable that God should be a sovereign, and do what he will with his own." ''March I, 1816. " Could I, my dear mother, tell you all the good news I have so long been waiting for, it would be some comfort; but I can say but little compared with what I hoped to be able to say before this time; nor can I yet determine how it will go with us. We have about eighty inquirers, and several, I hope, are converted ; but this is nothing to what we expected. EDWARD PAYSON. 415 However, we would be thankful for a drop if we can- not have a shower. It has been a trying season with me this winter. While pursuing the revival, it seemed as if I must die in the pursuit, and never overtake it." " April 1, 1816. " I am so worn down with constant cares and labors, that my affections seem to be all dried up, ' and I am withered like grass.' However, I hope you have received, ere this, a few lines as a proof that I have not quite forgotten or ceased to love my mother. " Our revival still lingers : it, however, increases slowly. I have conversed with about forty who enter- tain hopes, and with about sixty more who are inquir- ing. Twenty-three have joined the church since the year commenced. The work is evidently not over; but whether it will prove general, is still doubtful. There is quite a revival at Bath, below us. Nearly two hundred have been awakened. In Philadelphia, seventy-one were added to a single church at one time, a few weeks since. In New-York and Balti- more, also, there are revivals. You have probably heard that there have been revivals among the Hot- tentots. Two hundred were added to the church in one year, and ten Hottentot preachers ordained. There is much more good news of a similar nature. Surely we live in a good day, and I believe you will yet see good days in Rindge. Their liberality in raising my fathers salary is a token for good; and I rejoice in it more for that reason than for any other. Those who are most willing to pay for the Gospel, are most like- ly to have it blessed to them. " We go on very happily in every respect. I have 416 MEMOIR OF been favored with a long calm, or rather sunshine. Every thing is easy ; I am careful for nothing ; Christ is so precious and so near ; my cup runneth over. Every day I expect a storm, but it does not come. Doubtless I have many bitter, trying scenes to pass through yet ; worse than any I have heretofore expe- rienced. But I care not : He Avill carry me through. I wish to mention to you some passages which have been peculiarly sweet of late. One is this : ' He caused them to be pitied of all them by whom they were carried away captive.' Scarcely any passage ot Scripture seems to me so expressive of God's good- ness to his people as this. After they had provoked him till he banished them from the good land, still he pitied them, and made their enemies pity them. It sounds like David's language — ' Deal gently with the young man Absalom for my sake.' " Another is the account of our Savior's ascension, in the last chapter of Luke : ' And he lifted up his hands and blessed them. And while he blessed them,' &c. Observe, 'ii*/ii7e he blessed,' &c. The last thing he was ever seen to do on earth was to bless his dis- ciples. He went up scattering blessings ; and he has done nothing but bless them ever since." ''Sept. 19, 1816. " I do not wonder at all, my dear mother, at your discovering, from my letters, the jaded, languid stale of my mental faculties. They have long since lost all the elasticity which they ever possessed, and my mind is ' as dry as the remainder biscuit after a voyage.' " On the whole, the past summer has been the happiest -which I have enjoyed since I was set- EDWARD PAYSON. 417 tied. Were it not for the dreadfully depressing effects of ill health, I should be almost too happy. It seems to me that no domestic troubles, not even the loss of wife and children, could disturb me much, might I en- joy such consolations as I have been favored with most of the time since the date of my last letter. Soon after that, the revival, which I feared was at an end, began again, and things now look as promising as ever. My meeting-house overflows, and some of the church are obliged to stay at home, on account of the impossibility of obtaining seats. I have, in the main, been favored with great liberty for me, both in the pulpit and out ; and it has very often seemed as if — could I only drop the body — I could continue, with- out a moment's pause, to praise and adore to all eter- nity. This goodness is perfectly astonishing and in- comprehensible. I am in a maze whenever I think of it. Every day, for years, I have been expecting some dreadful judgments, reckoning, as Hezekiah did, that as a lion God would break all my bones, and, from day even to night, make an end of me. Now, and now, I have said to myself, it is coming. Now, God will cast me out of his vineyard. Now, he will lay me aside or withdraw his Spirit, and let me fall into some great sin. But, instead of the judgments which I expected and deserve, he sends nothing but mercies ; such great mercies too, that I absolutely stagger under them, and all my words are swallow- ed up. " But, great as my reasons are to love God for his favors, methinks he is infinitely more precious on ac- count of his perfections. Never did he appear so inex- pressibly glorious and lovely as he has for some weekg 418 MEMOIR OF past. He is, indeed, all in all. I have nothing to fear, nothing to hope from creatures. They are all mere shadows and puppets. There is only one Being in the universe, and that Being is God ; may I add, He is my God. I long to go and see him in heaven. I long still more to stay and serve him on earth. Rather I rejoice to be just where he pleases, and to be what he pleases. Never did selfishness and pride appear so horrid. Never did I see myself to be such a mon- ster; so totally dead lo all wisdom and goodness. But I can point up and say — There is my righteous- ness, my wisdom, my all. In the hands of Christ I lie passive and helpless, and am astonished to see how he can Avork in me. He does all ; holds me up, car- ries me forward, works in me and by me ; while I do nothing, and yet never worked faster in my life. To say all in a word — ' My soul followeth hard after thee, thy right hand upholdeth me.' " Our inquirers are about seventy. We are building a conference-house, to hold five hundred people. Some of the church, who can ill afford it, give fifty dollars each towards it." " December 9, 1816. " In a religious view, things remain very much as they have been. AVe have about fifty inquirers ; but they do not seem, except in a few instances, to be very deeply impressed, and their progress is slow. We have admitted seventy-two persons into the church during the present year. Our new conference-house has been finished some weeks. At its dedication, and at a quarterly fast held in it the same week, we en- joyed the divine presence in a greater degree, 1 think, EDWARD PAYSON. 419 than we ever did before as a church. I would not have given a straw for the additional proof Avhich a visible appearance of Christ Avould have afforded of his pre- sence. And he iias been wonderfully gracious to me ever since. It is several months since I have been disturbed with any of those dreadful conflicts which for so many years rendered life bitterer than worm- wood and gall. " We have received intelligence of E.'s marriage. I can realize more than I once could, what a severe trial it must be to you and my father to have both daughters gone — almost like burying them. If my father Avere not a minister, and thus Jixed where he is, I should send him and you such an invitation as Joseph sent to Jacob, to come and let us nurse and nourish you, since you are left so much alone." " December 16, 1817. " This being the anniversary of my ordination, de- termined to spend it in fasting and prayer. Had little courage to attempt it, on account of bodily infirmities and repeated vain attempts ; but God was gracious to me, and enabled me to go through with it. Had for a long time a melting, heart-broken frame at the feet of Christ, weeping aloud, and obtained a full and sweet assurance of pardon. Never before enjoyed such a sense of his love, or felt so constrained to love him and every thing that belonged to him, especially his Word, which I could not forbear Idssing and press- ing to my bosom. Was perfectly willing to die with- out leaving my chamber, if my work here were done and God saw best. " Dec. 18. Began to think last night that I have 420 MEMOIR OP been sleeping all my days; and liiis morning felt sure of it. I have been idling and sleeping while my flock have been dropping into hell. How astonish- ingly blind have I been, and how imperceptible my religious progress ! Prayed for my people with more of a right spirit than perhaps ever before. After meet- ing had for a few moments such a view of God as almost overwhelmed me. Could not have supported it long." « October 27, IS 18. " In addition to these favors, we have some reason to hope that Zion is travailing in birth with souls. After a long season the preached word begins again to be blessed ; and several have within a few days been awakened. My health too, which for seve- ral weeks was worse than ever, is now quite as good as usual ; and God has been so gracious to me in spi- ritual things, that I thought he was preparing me for L.'s death. Indeed it may be so still ; but if so, his will be done. David's charge to his soul, ' Avait thou only upon God,' has of late seemed peculiarly pre- cious. Let him take all ; if he leaves us himself, we still have all and abound. I tell my dear parents of these mercies, because I know they are in answer to your prayers, and because I trust they will cause you to abound in thanksgiving in my behalf. * * * * * " Since I wrote the above I have seen three more newly awakened ; and other circumstances appear en- couraging. Truly my cup runs over with blessings. I can still scarcely help thinking that God is preparmg me for some severe trial ; but if he will grant me his EDWARD tAYSON. 421 Presence, as he does now, no trial can seem severe. However, I desire to rejoice w4th trembling. I seem to know a little what is meant by fearing the Lord and his goodness. There seems to be something awful and venerable even in the goodness of God, when displayed towards creatures so desperately wicked, so inexpressibly vile as we are. O, could I now drop the body, I could stand and cry to all eternity, with- out being weary — God is holy, God is just, God is good; God is wise, and faithful, and true. Either of his perfections alone is sufficient to furnish matter for an eternal, unwearied song. How bright, how daz- S:ling is the pztre, unsullied whiteness of his charac- ter! and how black, how loathsome do we appear in contrast with it ! Could I sing upon paper, I should ' break forth into singing ;' for day and night I can do nothing but sing. ' Let the saints be joyful in glory ; let them sing aloud upon their beds ; for the Lord shall reign King for ever, and thy God, O Zion, throughout all generations.' " -'April 13, 1820. " I have lately been very much delighted with some account of the last years of Mr. Newton. Nothing that I have yet met with seems to come so near complete ripeness of Christian character as the views and feel- ings which he expresses in his daily conversation. He seems to have seen God continually in every thing, to have been wholly swallowed up in him, and to have regarded him as all in all. The whole creation seemed, as it were, to be annihilated in his view, and God to have taken its place. If a miracle had been wrought before me to prove the reality of religion, it could M. p. 36 422 MEMOIR OF scarcely have produced conviction like that which re- sulted from seeing religion thus gloriously exempli- fied. After his faculties seemed to be almost extinct, so that he could not remember, in the afternoon, hav- ing preached in the morning, faith and love and hope were as strong as ever. Indeed, I cannot conceive of nearer approaches to perfection in this world than he seems to have made during the last years of his life. He says that God works in his people, to will first, and afterwards to do ; and thinks that Christians will to do good many years before they actually do much. This is encouraging. I think God works in me to will; but in doings my progress is small indeed." " May 17, 1821. "My dear Mother, " 111 news flies so fast, and becomes so much exag- gerated in its progress, that I should not wonder if you were to hear a rumor that I am dying, if not dead. The truth is, I have been sick — perhaps dange- rously so. About three months since I began to be troubled with a slight cough. It gradually grew worse, and was attended with loss of appetite, pain in the chest, difficulty of breathing, daily accession of fever, and spitting of blood. It is nearly a month since I have been obliged to give up preaching, and have re- course to emetics, blistering, bleeding, &c. By the blessing of God attending these means I am now al- most well again, and hope to be able soon to resume my labors. I am, however, still weak, and cannot write much ; but I was fearful you would hear that I am worse than I really am, and therefore thought it best to write a few lines." EDWARD PAYSON. 423 " June 8. This is a most melancholy day to me. It is the Sabbath on which we should have had the com- munion ; but we have no one to preach for us. My flock are scattered, and I can only look on and groan. My health is in such a state that I can feel nothing but misery. However, this blow seemed to touch me. I saw that it was just, though I can scarcely be said to have felt it. To-morrow I expect to sail for Charles- ton, with a view to the recovery of my health ; but I go with a heavy heart. There appears little prospect of its proving beneficial. " July 16. " I am just returned from Charleston. My health is much improved. I had a very pleasant passage out; but a most tedious and unpleasant return. The cap- tain who carried me out was as kind as possible. I hope he has his reward. He offered to carry me to Europe, and bring me back. It would have been grati- fying to see Old England ; but I could not spare -the time. " July 16. O how much better is God to me than my fears, and even than my hopes ! how ready to an- swer prayer ! This afternoon he has banished my fears and sorrows, strengthened my faith, revived my hopes, and encouraged me to go on. Had a precious season in visiting and praying with some of my people, and still more so in the evening. O how wise and good is God ! Now I can see it was best that I should not be assisted in preaching yesterday ; for it drove me, in self-despair to the throne of grace. Whereas,^ had I been assisted, I might have remained at a distance. And I desire to record it to the honor of God and my 424 MEMOIR OF own shame, that I never went to him in distress, with- out finding almost immediate relief. " Jwly 25. This day I am thirty-eight years old. I had intended to make it a day of family thanksgiving, but my weakness prevented. Indeed, ill health is an obstacle continually in my way, almost wholly ob- structing my usefulness and growth in grace. Half my time I am so languid in body and mind that I can do nothing ; and the other half I am very far from be- ing well. But God has hitherto graciously supported me, so that, though cast down, I am not yet destroyed. As to resolving that I will do better in future, I have no courage to do it. The loss of so many years withers my strength and courage, and dries up my spirits." " August 6, 1821. " Since I wrote last there has been quite a change in me. Then my health was better, but my mind sick. Now my mind is comparatively at ease, but my health has sunk down nearly to its old standard. However, this state is vastly more comfortable than the former, and I desire to be satisfied. I think, my dear mother, you may dismiss all anxiety respecting me. I am in wise and good hands, and do not suffer more than is absolutely necessary." " Sept. 1. While lying awake last night enjoyed most delightful views of God as a Father. Felt that my happiness is as dear to him as to myself; that he would not willingly hurt one hair of my head, nor let me suffer a moment's unnecessary pain. Felt that he was literally as willing to give as I could be to ask. Seemed, indeed, to have nothing to ask for." EDWARD PAYSON. ' 425 In a letter, dated September 10th, after alluding to " sore trials," and especially to one of several events which had a most melancholy and disastrous aspect on the religious prospects of the church, he says, " This, coming just when we were expecting a revival, was peculiarly grievous ; but I still hope, after God has crushed us into the dust he will exalt us. He has been most wonderfully gracious to me during these trials. Never before have I enjoyed such consolations. It seems as evident as noon-day, that the same love which prompted the Savior to bear the curse for us, would have led him to bear all our afflictions for us, were it not absolutely necessary that we should suifer in our own persons. I see, I feel that he would as soon wound the apple of his eye as give one of his people a moment's needless pain. I care not what trials may come, for I know that they will be for my good, and that he will support me." At the commencement at Bowdoin College this month, he received the degree of Doctor in Divinity ; but writes to his mother-^" I beg you not to address your letters to me by that title, for I shall never make use of it." " Sept, 19. Last night, while lying awake, had more distinct apprehensions of God's greatness than at any previous tim^e. Realized little of any thing else except simple greatness ; and this, although I seemed to have no views compared with what might be, almost crushed me to death. I could not move a limb, nor scarcely breathe. Saw how easily a little view of God might destroy us. Could realize more than ever that a clear view of God must be hell to the wicked ; for had any sense of his anger accom- M. p. 36* 426 MEMOIR OF panied this view of his greatness, I could not have supported it. " Oct. 11. Still my cup runs over with blessings. God graciously continues to grant me his presence when I lie down and when I rise up ; though he every day sees enough in me to justify him in leaving me for ever." " October 15. " God continues to be wonderfully gracious to me in spiritual things. I know not what it means. I never was so happy for so long a time before. I suspect some grievous trial is approaching. Let it come if God pleases. While he is with me I feel en- tirely independent of all circumstances, creatures, and events. Yet creature comforts are pleasant, when we can enjoy God in them. " I fear will do the church little good. At first it seemed to affect them in a proper manner, but the impression is fast wearing aivay. Whether God will scourge them still more severely, or whether he will come and melt them into repentance by unex- pected displays of mercy, I do not know. If I could see them made to feel what a God Jehovah is, and what a Savior Christ is, and what a place heaven is ! But I do not. Still, when I look at God in Christ, and see how good, how gracious, how condescending, how powerful he is, I am compelled, in spite of myself, to hope, and almost to feel sure that I shall, sooner or later, see a revival of religion here. It may be, how- ever, that this bright day is designed only to prepare me for as dark a night. But I desire to do present du- ly, to enjoy with humble gratitude present happiness, and let to-morrow take thought for itself." EDWARD PAYSON. 427 '-^November 25. " A young man, member of our church, is jus* settled, and a revival has commenced. About fifty- are awakened, and the work is increasing. He makes the fourth member of our church who has been settled since I came here." [Dr. Payson superintended the preparation of several young men for the ministry.] " February 3, 1822. — "If ray letter takes its complexion from my feelings, it will appear gloomy indeed. Since I wrote last it has been a season of trial with me. E. has had a terrible abscess, which we feared would prove too much for her slender constitution. We were almost worn out with watching ; and, just as she began to amend, I Avas seized with a violent ague in my face, which gave me incessant anguish for six days and nights, and deprived me almost entirely of sleep. Three nights I did not once close my eyes. When al- most distracted with pain and loss of sleep, Satan was ■ let loose upon me to buffet me, and I verily thought would have driven me to desperation and madness. Nor is my situation now much better. The fact is, my nervous system, at all times weak, has been so shat- tered by pain, and watching, and strong opiates, which gave no relief, that I am sunk in gloom and despon- dency, and can only write bitter things against my- self. Surely no one suffers so much unprofitable misery as I do. I call it unprofitable, because it is of such a nature that I do not see how it possibly can produce any good effect. It only weakens, dispirits, and discourages me. " We have had a few instances of conviction, aau 428 MEMOIR OF at least one of conversion, since I wrote last ; and the church, I hope, is gaining ground. You will be glad to hear that eight or ten are awakened in Gorham." " February 5. " I can now write in a less dismal strain. I am not happy, but I am less wretched. 1 feel that while such a creature as I am is out of hell, I have great reason for thankfulness. But my flesh trembles and my blood almost runs cold, when I look back upon what [ have suffered. Certainly a very large proportion of my path lies through the valley of the shadow of death. Bishop Hall says — 'None out of hell have suffered so much as some of God's children ;' and I believe it. I should not, however, much regard my sufferings, if they were sanctified." " February 19. "You will be glad, my dear mother, to hear that the man who had the legion is sitting at the feet of Jesus, in his right mind. I had obtained some relief when I wrote you last, but it proved of short continu- ance ; the clouds returned after the rain, and I was again in the horrible pit and miry clay, and there re- mained till the next Sabbath. But now, I trust, the devil is cast out, though, as he departed from our Sa- vior only for a season, I know not how soon he may return. You know Mr. Newton thinks, that, compa- ratively speaking, he fights with neither small nor great, except with ministers. I know not how this may be ; but if he torments others as he does me, I am sure I pity them. I am now so worn out with suffer- ing and conflict that I seem incapable of enjoyment; EDWARD PAYSON. 429 but I feel quiet and peaceful, and that is a great mercy. " The symptoms of a revival increase among us. Perhaps a dozen have been awakened and three have obtained hope since I wrote last, I was sent for to- day to see a man ninety-two years old, who, after a long life of sin, is awakened in his old age. His situ- ation, on the whole, seems encouraging, though he is nearly blind and deaf." " February 26. " The revival has been advancing, and there now seems to be every reason to hope that God has begun a great work among us. I would not be too sanguine, but things look more favorable than they have for se- ven or eight years. Every day I have two, and three, and four inquirers to see me, and their convictions are very deep and pungent. Three have just obtained hope. " I rejoice the more in this work, because it enables me to stop the mouth of my old adversary, and to prove to his face that he is a liar. 1 could not doubt that I had been enabled to pray for a revival these many years. Nor could I persuade myself that Christ had not promised it to me. The essence of a promise consists in voluntarily exciting expectations of some benefit. In this sense, a revival had often been pro- mised to me. And when it was not granted ; when, one time after another, promising appearances died away ; and especially when I was left to such exer- cises as rendered it impossible that I should be favor- ed with a revival — Satan had a fine opportunity to work upon my unbelief, and to ask, Where is your 430 MEMOIR OF God ? what do you get by praying to him ? and where is the levival which he has been so long encouraging you to expect, and to pray for? Now I can answer these questions triumphantly, and put the lying tongue to silence. But the work is all God's ; and I stand and look on to see him work 5 and this is favor enough, and infinitely more than I deserve. " You spoke in your last of poor . Rich, you would call him now, if you could see him. He has made more progress in religion since . than he would in twenty years of ordinary advancement. I feel like a child when talking with him. Truly God's ways are not like ours. Meanwhile poor brother R. who is not half so undeserving of a revival as I am, is laid aside just as soon as favorable symptoms begin to appear. His physicians speak very dis- couragingly." '^ March 7. Preached in the evening to the largest assembly that I had ever addressed at a Thursday lec- ture. Came home encouraged, and rejoicing in God. The work is his — I am nothing, and love to be no- thing. Dare not promise to serve God more faith- fully. However extensive a revival he may send, I shall again be stupid and ungrateful, unless he pre- vent." " March 17. " The revival goes on. Fifteen, we hope, are con- verted ; and four times that number under deep im- pressions. But in the midst of it I am laid aside. My lungs have been failing for several weeks, and I can preach no longer. After my last Thursday lecture 1 EDWARD PAYSON. 431 had a strange turn. Every body thought I was dying. It was occasioned by an inability in the heart to free itself from the blood which poured in upon it. How- ever, the doctor came, and took a large quantity of blood, which relieved me. But I am just as I was last spring, and unless God interposes to help me, shall be unable to preach for weeks. You may well suppose that this is a trying dispensation ; but so far I am kept quiet under it. I feel that it is not qnly just, but wise and kind. Poor brother Rand is in the same situation. The revival among his people increases, but he can do nothing. I wish P. was here ; we both need him." " May 20, 1823. " Caesar, speaking of one of his many battles which was severely contested, observed that on for- mer occasions he had fought for victory, but then he fought for life. Even so it is with me. Once I fought for victory, and no ordinary victory would satisfy me ; but my strength, and courage, and ambition are now so crushed, t-hat I fight merely for life, and I am scarce- ly able to secure even that. Still I hope for victory ultimately. I have just finished a sermon on Heze- kiah's petition — ' O Lord, I am oppressed ; undertake for me.' It has given me some comfort ; it ought to give me more. Indeed, if we properly considered who Christ is, and what he has undertaken to do for us, we should never need consolation, but might, like St. Paul, though sorrowful, be always rejoicing; and say with him — 'Blessed be God, who hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in heavenly things in Christ Jesus.' I have prepared another sermon from a succeeding passage in the same chapter — ' Thou 432 MEMOIR OF hast, in love to my soul, delivered it from the pit of corruption.' The words 'delivered it' are not in the original ; and as Father Henry observes, the pas- sage may be read — ' Thou hast loved my soul from the pit of corruption ; thou hast loved my soul when it was in the pit of corruption, and thou hast loved it out of the pit of corruption ; not merely taken it out, and redeemed it out, but loved it out^ " " May 25. " My sermon on Christ's undertaking for us does me more and more good. I wish I could impart to you som^ of the comfort which it gives me. I wish to get away from frames and feelings, and live continually on the precious truth — ' Christ has undertaken for me.' He is able, he is faithful, he will keep what he has undertaken to keep, he will do all he has undertaken to do. Another passage has been very sweet to me this morning, and I think I shall preach upon it next Sabbath : — ' He hath made us accepted in the Beloved.' To be accepted of God, to be accepted in his beloved Son — what an honor ! what a privilege ! Well may it be said to every one who enjoys it, ' Go thy way, eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a merry heart ; for God now accepteth thy works.' " Our church began last winter to employ a domes- tic missionary. They sent him to a town which has long been without a minister, and where, just before, a vain attempt had been made to raise one hundred dollars to pay for preaching. His labors produced such effect, that they have now raised a fund which will support a minister for ever. They have also given our missionary a unanimous call to settle with them. We tDW'-ARD PAY30N. 433 Bliall make a similar experiment in another town as soon as we can find a suitable missionary. How much is money worth at such a time as this !" Dr. Payson describes a species of trial to which he was twice subjected, that will probably, at the first glance, surprise those who were acquainted with his strong confidence in revelation, and his rich experience in the consolations of religion. It shows most vividly the awful malice of the " accuser of the brethren," whose power to distress Christians, as well as his agency among "the children of disobedience," is great- ly underrated at the present day ; as even his existence is extensively doubted. Against the servant of God, who was making such inroads upon his kingdom, he seems to have directed all his " fiery darts." They gave temporary pain, but inflicted no mortal wound. The adversary was foiled. " I have been sick, and laid by from preaching on thanksgiving day and two Sabbaths, but am now able to resume ray labors. But O the temptations which have harassed me for the last three months ! I have met with nothing like them in books. I dare not men- tion them to any mortal, lest they should trouble him as they have troubled me ; but, should I become an apostate and Avrite against religion, it seems to me that I could bring forward objections which would shake the faith of all the Christians in the world. What T marvel at is, that the arch-deceiver has never been permitted to suggest them to some of his scribes, and have them published. They would, or I am much mistaken, make fearful work with Christians for a M. r. 37 434 MEMOIR OF lime, though God would, doubtless, enable them to overcome in the end. It seems to me that my state has been far worse than that of Mansoul Avas when Diabolus and his legions broke into the town. They could not get into the castle, the heart; but my castle was full of them. But do not be troubled for me ; I am now better. Let me then try to comfort my mother." The other passage, depicting a similar conflict, was written about a year and a half after the above : " It seems to me that those who die young, like Brainerd and Martyn, knoAV almost nothing of the dif- ficulty of persevering in the Christian race. iVly diffi- culties increase every year. All the atheistical, deis- tical, and heretical objections Avhich I meet with in books, are childish babblings, compared with those "which Satan suggests, and which he urges upon the mind with a force which seems irresistible. Yet I am often obliged to write sermons, and to preach, when these objections beat upon me like a whirlwind, and almost distract mc. When he asks, as he does conti- nually ask. What have you gained by all your prayers ? I know not v/hat to reply. However, pray I must, and, God assisting me, jiray I will. The way is indeed dif- ficult, but I can devise no other which is not more so. There is no one to whom I can go if I forsake Christ." These last quoted passages are adapted, not to raise doubts respecting the genuineness and authenticity of revelation, bat to strengthen our confidence in it as the sure icord of God ichich endurcth for ever. The ob- vious and legitimate inference from them is, that the Bible can sustain, uninjuretl. attacks and objections EDWARD PAYSON. 435 more formidable than any which have been directed against it by the mightiest infidels. '■'Jan. 1, 1824. Rose early, and tried to pray; but a weak, languid frame crushed me down. I have, how- ever, reason to bless God that he allows such a wretch as I am to serve him at all. Groaned and struggled v/itli my weakness before God. Read a number of passages in my diary, especially what is recorded under date of Dec. 16, 1815. Am glad I kept a jour- nal ; I had otherwise forgotten much of what I have done against God, and of what he has done for me. Was confounded at what I read. My words are swal- lowed up. My life, my ministry has been madness, madness ! What shall I do ? where shall I hide ? To sin, after I had sinned so much, and after I had been forgiven ! But I cannot write ! I cannot think ! And if my sins appear so black in my book, how must they appear in God's ! " Jan. 29. Have had much to be thankful for, and much to be ashamed of for some days past. God has been more than ordinarily gracious to me, granting me liberty of access to him in prayer, and permitting me lo be in some degree useful. I have received many tokens of warm affection from his people, and been as- sisted in my work. . . . Have learned a lesson which I oughi to have learned before. I am religiously ro- mantic. I am always expecting something out of the common course, and planning what God is going to do. "May 15. Rode to G. to give them a day's preach- ing, as they are destitute. Took up a poor cripple by the way, and preached Christ to him. Felt some pity and love for him while talking. A curious combina- tion of circumstances threw him in my way. Could 436 MEMOIR or not but think how we both should admire the leadings of Providence, it' he should be converted in conse- quence of what was said to him. "July 20. Perplexed what to do. My people wish me to go to Europe, Tried to commit the case to God. " Oct. 17. Slept none last night, and my sufferings were great. My right arm seems about to perish. Could say, God's will be done. " Nov. 7. What I have long feared has come upon me. My voice and my faculties are half gone already, and what remains is rapidly departing. " Nov. 27. Was favored with a most precious sea- son in prayer. Had such views of God and Christ ! Lay and mourned at his feet till I was exhausted, and longed unutterably to be more holy, and to have others holy. O what reason have I to bless God for this ! "Jan. 5, 1825. At the concert on Monday recom mended to the church to imitate the Lord's prayer, and always begin their supplication with praying that God's name may be glorified. Have derived much benefit from pursuing this practice. Made eleven visits, and felt thankful for having strength to do it, "Jan. 31. Felt very happy and dead to the world all day. Rejoiced in God, and cared not what he did with me. " Feb. 9. Had a delightful season in prayer. It seemed as if it was only to ask and receive. Had nothing to ask for myself, except that I might be swalloAved up in the will of God. " Feb. 15, 16. Much engaged in visiting. Went t* the utmost extent of my strength. Felt insatiable de sires for more holiness." EDWARD PAYSOX. 4-37 " Bosto7i, March 21, 1825. *' My dear Mother, " I value your letters much, and your prayers still more ; and sometimes think that your life is preserved, principally, to pray for your children. It will be found, I doubt not, in the coming world, that ministers had much less share in the success T/hich attends their labors, than is novv^ supposed. It v^^ill be found, that if they drew the bow, the prayers of Christians point- ed and guided the arrow. I preached last evening to an immense concourse of people. After the pews were filled, seats were brought in and placed in all the aisles. So far as I know, however, very little good has been done by my labors here. But I desire to leave it all with God. I am astonished and asham- ed by the kindness with which his people here treat me. * * " You express a wish that my feelings were more equable. I wish they were. But I am so completely Avretched when God withdraws from me, that the re- moval of that wretchedness by his return renders me almost too happy. This thought has lately been of some service to me. Every Christian ought to love God in proportion to what has been forgiven him. But every Christian knows more evil of himself than he can know of any other human being. He ought, therefore, to feel as if more had been forgiven him, and as if he were under greater obligations to love God than any other human being ; as if it were wcrse for him to sin against God than it would be for any other." M. p, 37* 438 MEMOIR OF " Portland, July 27. " I had attempted to observe my birth-day as a day of prayer, but apparently to no purpose. I was so unwell that I could do nothing. However, the next day, the blessings which I wished to ask for, but could not, were bestowed. I need not tell you how sweet, how soothing, how refreshing Christ's return- ing presence is, after long absence. Still I am borne down in such a manner by ill health that I can but half rejoice. The state of religion among us helps also to crush me. There never has been so entire a suspension of divine influences since my settlement as at present. Those of the church who are most spi- ritual tell me that they never found it so difficult to perform religious duties as they do now. In fine, the church seems to be on Bunyan's enchanted ground, and many of them are sleeping in some of the arbors which he mentions. Whether they will wake before death, seems doubtful." " September 29. " I preached last Sabbath on being guilty of the blood of souls ; and endeavored to point out some of the ways in which we may incur this guilt. I have incurred but too much of it ; and it lies upon me with a weight which I know not how to bear, but which I cannot throw off. True, blood has been shed for us, which has efficacy to take away the guilt of blood. But though this consideration may keep us from de- spair, it cannot shield us, or, at least, cannot shield one whose guilt is like mine, from the sufferings oc- casioned by self-reproach and a wounded spirit. I seldom think of the time I spent in B. without a pang, EDWARD PAYSON. 439 the keenness of which you cannot easily conceive. It IS a painful thought that v/e are so long in learning how to live, that ere the lesson is Avell learned life is spent. Another subject on which I have lately been writing, and which has assisted to increase my de- pression, was suggested by the passage — 'E\en Christ pleased not himself.' If any one who ever lived in this Avorld had a right to please himself, he surely had such a right ; yet how far was he from ex- ercising or claiming it ! He evidently adopted and acted upon the principle, that as man, he was not his own ; that he belonged to God and to the universe, and that he must do nothing merely for the sake of promoting his own personal gratification. I contem- plate this example with feelings similar to those with Avhich a child who has just begun to hold a pen, may be supposed to look upon a superb copper-plate, which he is required to imitate ; or rather with such feelings as one might indulge who had been learning to write for many years, and yet found himself further from resembling his copy than he was at first." " Nov. 4. Quarterly fast. Went to meeting feel- ing very unwell, and found very few assembled. Was obliged to wait half an hour before there was a suffi- cient number to sing. Was entirely overcome by dis- couragement. Could not say a Avord, and after strug- gling in vain with my feelings, Avas obliged to state them to the church and come away. " Nov. 9. Installation of a minister over the Third Church to-day. Have reason to be thankful that I have been carried through this business of separation so well, and that affection for those who have left us is rather increased than diminished." 440 MEMOIR or This last date brings us down to a period from which his health may be said to have been constantly declining. The progress of the maladies which were wasting away his frame may have been stayed for a few days or weeks in succession after this, but their hold on him was never more weakened. The winter succeeding Avas one of infirmity and suffering. He continued to preach on the SabbatJi; but the exhaus- tion consequent upon the exertion often rendered it difficult for him to reach his home, distant but a few rods. So much overcome was he as to be physically unable to lead the devotions of his own family ; and his Sabbath nights were nights of restlessness and anguish. Still, when holy time again returned he longed for the habitation of God's house, and again repeated his efforts, and with similar consequences. Observing with alarm this prostration of his strength, his people, in the spring of 1S26, resolved upon an al- teration of their meeting-house, with a view to his re- lief. The ceiling was brought down and arched, and the floor inclined towards the pulpit, by Avhich changes more than one third of the space to be filled by the speaker's voice was excluded, and the difficulty of fill- ing it diminished in a still greater proportion. It was while this alteration was in progress that he made his circuitous and last journey to the Springs, which has already been mentioned. On arriving there he said to Mr. W. in allusion to his health — '• I am in pursuit of a good which is con- stantly flying before me, and which, I apprehend, will for ever elude my grasp."—" The incessant and unre- mitted labor of years," adds Mr. W. " seemed to have left him but a viere ivreck of being; which he longed EDWARD PAYS ON 441 to be rid of to serve God in a region of poifect health and boundless activity. He had little expectation of recovering his health, and several times remarked that if it was the will of God to take him away speedi- ly, it was no matter how soon he departed. The idea of wearing out his days in a state of inactivity and consequent depression was distressing to him, and made him deeply solicitous to have the question of life and death fully settled. Sometimes, said he, when I retire to bed I shoald be happy to have it the last night of my life. With Job he might say — '• I am made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed unto me. When I lie down I say, When shall I arise, and the night be gone ? I am fall of toss- ings to and fro unto the dawning of the day ! When I say, My bed shall comfort me, and my couch shall ease my complaint ; then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me with night visions ; so that my soul chooseth strangling and death rather than life. I loathe it; I would not live alway." Mr. W imagined — and in this he was unques- tionably correct — that the sufferings of Dr. Payson were greater than any one knew or suspected ; and he adds, " they were endured, for the most, in silence. At midnight he would arise and walk his room, sing- ing some plaintive air. At first I knew not what to make of the umvonted and mournful sounds which broke in upon my slumbers; and often, as the sound softly died away, my soul was filled with sadness. He complained much of his head. In one conversation he dwelt particularly on the causes which had opera- ted to undermine and destroy his health. Among them was his great and increasing anxiety for a general and 442 MEMOIR OF powerful revival of religion among his people; his in- cessant labors to secure so great a blessing, and the repeated disappointments he had experienced from year to year. We would seem, said Dr. Payson, to be on the eve of an extensive revival, and my hopes would be correspondently raised ; and then the favorable ap- pearances woulci vanish away. Under the powerful excitement of hope, and under the succeeding depres- sion arising from disappointment, my strength failed, and I sunk rapidly under my labors. He spoke of hav- ing been under a temptation, constantly, to labor be- yond his strength; and believed many a faithful mi- nister had thus been tempted by Satan to cut short his days. In this way his own life had been shortened. When, in a season of excitement, he had exhausted his whole strength, even then Satan suggested that he had not done enough, but must do much more, or be counted unfaithful." This ceaseless anxiety for a revival appears the more remarkable, when contemplated in connection Avith the fact that the church was continually growing under his ministrations, and the congregation enlarging, till there was not room enough to receive them. In one year of his ministry the church received an accession of seventy-three, and in the year of his death seventy- nine ; and the average number was more than thirty- five a year during the whole of his ministry. If there were an entire suspension of divine influences at any time, it was of temporary duration. Judging from the accessions made to the church, there must have been a constant and gradual work of God. If the term of his ministry be divided into periods of five years, the num- ber added in each period differs from that of every EDWARD PAYSON. 443 Other period by a comparatively small number. The diiference is in favor of the first two periods, when, with fewer bodily infirmities, he " ceased not daily, and from house to house, to testify repentance towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ." About mid-sunmer he returned from his last excur- sion abroad to the bosom of his family and flock, and continued to employ the little strength which remained in making known Jesus Christ, and him crucified. From l..is labor no entreaties could prevail with him to desist. He continued to occupy his pulpit on the Sabbath, for the most part, through the following v/in- ter ; notwithstanding parts of his body, particularly his right arm, had already begun to perish, and were not only useless, but an incumbrance. But while " the out- ward man decayed, the inward man was renewed day by day." This is in a degree true of his mental facul- ties, as well as of his religious progress. The corus- cations of his intellect delighted and astonished his visiters. Among these was the Secretary of the Ame- rican Education Society, who, asking Dr. Payson for a message which he might carry from him to benefi- ciaries, received the following impromptu : " What if God should place in your hand a diamondj and tell you to inscribe on it a sentence Vv^hich should be read at the last day, and shown there as an index of your own thoughts and feelings ? What care, what caution would you exercise in the selection ! Now, this is what God has done. He has placed before you immortal minds, more imperishable than the diamond on Avhich you are about to inscribe, every day and every hour, by your instructions, by your spirit, or by 444 MtMotR at your example, something which -will remain, and be exhibited for or against you at the judgment day." We shall close our extracts, and this chapter, with tAvo short letters to his mother, the last he ever wrote : ''February 1, 1S27. " My dear Mother, " I have just received your letter, and tliough I am obliged to write with my left hand, and that is numb, I must try to scratch a few lines in reply. I am no bet- ter ; am tolerably contented and happy, but have not much sensible consolation. We have increasing evi- dence that L. is become pious; but E. who seemed to be awakened, has lost his impressions. You have probably heard that Mr. R. hopes that H. is converted. We have about a dozen hopeful converts, and appear- ances are encouraging. I have much to be thankful for. Wife, children and people, all try to minister to my comfort. I rejoice to hear that your mind is in so de- sirable a frame, though I expected no less. God has not led you so far to forsake you at last. Should you be taken away before me I shall iec\ as Eiisha did when he lost Elijah ; for I doubt not your prayers have been of great service to me. I received a letter from G. lately, inviting me to come and spend part of the winter at New-York. 1 thank him, but I cannot come. Home is the only place for a cripple, who can neither dress nor undress himself; besides, I can be of some service to my people while here. I have many things to say, but writing is so wearisome and painful that I can add nothing more. Assure G. and E. of my warm- est love, and believe me " Your affectionate son." EDWARD PAY30X. 445 " February 20. " My dear Mother, " I wrote the inclosed letter three weeks since, and sent it by a man who said he was going to New-York; but after I hoped it had arrived there, it came back to me again. I have just received your last Letter, and what shall I say in reply ? If my hand v/ould permit I could say much ; if my health would allow of it, I would come and see you. As it is, I can only say, God be with you, my dear mother, and bless you, as he has made you a blessing to me. If it be his will that we should not meet again in this world, I must say — Farewell, for a short time ; for short, I trust, will be the time before we meet again. Farewell, then, my dear, dear mother ! for a short time, farewell !" It proved to be the last farewell. His mother, a few days afterwards, was called to her eternal home. CHAPTER XX. tils last labors — His spiritual joys, heavenly counsels, and brightening intellect, during the j^rogress of his disease-^ His triumphant death. Dr. Payson was at length compelled to yield to the irresistible power of disease. Parts of his body, in- cluding his right arm and left side, were very singu- larly affected. They were incapable of motion, and lost all sense of feeling externally ; while, in the in- terior parts of the limbs thus affected, he experienced, M. p. 38 446 MEMOIR or at intervals, a most intense burning sensation, which he compared to a stream of fused metal or liquid fire coursing through his bones. No external applications were of the least service ; and in addition to his acute sufferings from this source, he was frequently subject to most violent attacks of nervous head-ache. It was with great reluctance that he relinquished preaching. " The spirit continued willing " long after the " flesh failed." But who can resist the appoint- ment of Heaven ! The decree had gone forth that he must die; and the progress of his complicated mala- dies declared but too unequivocally that the decree must soon be executed. He did not, however, cease preaching at once, but at first secured assistance for half the day only. An arrangement to this effect, which was expected to continue several weeks, com- menced on the second Sabbath of March. He occu- pied the pulpit in the morning. His text was, " 7Vie word of the Lord is tried." The sermon was not writ- ten, of course ; but no one that he ever wrote, not even his celebrated discourse on the Bible, was more in- structive and eloquent than this ; particularly those parts in which he described the trials to which '• the icord of the Lord'''' had been subjected by its enemies, and the tests of a different character which it had sus- tained from its friends. Never scarcely were the mightiest infidels made to appear so puny, insignifi- cant, and foolish. " He Avho sitteth in the heavens" could almost be seen " deriding them." When de- scribing the manner in Avhich Christians had tried it, he "spoke out of the abundance of his heart." Expe- rience aided his eloquence, and added strength to the conviction which it wrought. And it would have been EDWARD PAYSON. 447 listened to with a still greater intenseness of interest, had his own trials, mentioned in the preceding chap- ter, been known. The application of the subject to his auditory must be left for imagination to supply; for it cannot be conveyed on paper. On pronouncing the blessing, he requested the con- gregation to resume their seats. He descended from the pulpit and took his station in front of it, and com- menced a most solemn appeal to the assembly. He began with a recognition of that feeling in an audi- tory which leads them to treat a minister's exhorta- tions as if they were merely a discharge of profession- al duty, by one placed above them and having little sympathy with them. '' 1 now put aside the minis- ter," said he ; " I come down among you ; place my- self on a visible equality ; I address you as a fellow- man, a friend, a brother, and fellow-traveler to the bar of God ; as one equally interested with yourselves in the truths which I have been declaring." He then gave vent to the struggling emotions of his heart in a strain of affectionate entreaty, expressing the most anxious desires for their salvation. In conclusion, he referred them to the common practice, when men have any great object to accomplish, of assembling to- gether and adopting resolutions expressive of their convictions and purposes ; and he wished his hearers to follow him in a series vvhich he was about to pro- pose ; and to adopt them, not by any visible act or ex- pression, but mentally, if they thought them of suffi- cient importance, and could do it sincerely. One resolution expressed a conviction of the truth of the Bible; another, of criminal indifference to its momen- tous disclosures ; another acknowledged the claims 448 MEMOIR OF of Jehovah ; another, the paramount importance of attention to the concerns of the soul ; and another, the purpose to seek its salvation without delay. Though his withered arm hung helpless by his side, yet he seemed " instinct with life j" and every suc- cessive resolution was rendered emphatic by a gesture of the left. In all his public ministrations during this period, when his body Avas sinking towards the grave, there was a singular adaptedness of truthto existing circum- stances. The subjects upon which he expatiated were in unison with his condition as a servant of God ri- pening fast for heaven. There was much of the nature of testimony for God. He omitted no opportunity, public or private, to maintain the honor and perfec- tions of Him Avhose ambassador he was. He could scarcely utter a word without rendering it obvious to all who heard him, that God was higher in his esteem than any, than all created beings. One illustration ot this statement was afforded by a sermon which he preached as late as the last Sabbath in April, from 2 Samuel, 18 : 3 — " Thou art icorth ten thousand of 7{5." Parts of this sermon are reported from recollec- tion by his eldest daughter, Avho has been the most successful — where all fail — in retaining his characte- ristic expressions. The text, which was addressed to David by his sub- jects, Dr. Payson applied to Jehovah, and illustrated its truth in this application by a variety of methods, showing that God is Avorth ten thousand times ten thousand of human beings ; yea, worth more than all the creatures that ever have been, and all that ever will be created : EDWARD PAYSON. 449 " Suppose you take the capacity for happiness, which has been said by philosophers to be the only true standard of perfection : — if the happiness which God enjoys were divided into portions, each of which would be sufficient to fill an archangel to overflowing, there would be an infinite number of those portions. God's happiness is not merely a fountain, but an ocean without bottom or shore. And this should be a never- failing source of consolation to ihe Christian, when he reflects on ail the misery in the v/orld, that still happiness predominates ; for God is infinitely — infi- nitely happy. " The man who should go round the universe — sup- pose, if you will, that each of the numerous millions of stars known to astronomers is the centre of a sys- tem, and that each of these innumerable worlds is as populous as our own ; yet the man who should, at one fell stroke, fill all these countless myriads of beings to the very brim with wretchedness, would do infinitely less mischief than he who should, if that were possi- ble, destroy the happiness of Jehovah. In the first instance, it would be but poisoning the streams; in the latter, the fountain itself would be turned into bit- terness. * * * " Thus we have proved that God is worth infinitely more than all his creatures. But, instead of acknow- ledging and feeling this, men practically exalt them- selves ten thousand times above God. They think ten thousand times as much of themselves as of God ; an injury done to themselves affects them ten thousand times as much as one done to God ; and Jehovah sees himself cast down — down — down from his throne, to make room for little insignificant worms of the dust. M. P. 3S+ t50 MEMOIR OF And what can be worse than this ! Men talk about degrees of wickedness, because some have brolien the laws of their country and others have not; but this undervaluing and degrading their Maker is what all have done , and it is not possible to go farther in wickedness. Yes ; this is what I have done — and I desire to make the confession with shame. I have done this ; and you have done this, my hearers. In the presence of this much insulted God, I must charge it upon you. And I tell you, my hearers, if you do not repent of this conduct God will be obliged to put you down — down — down, as low as you have degrad- ed him. If he should not do this ; if, out of false pity to one individual, he should pardon you without re- pentance ; that instant all the songs of heaven would stop, and all the happiness of the universe would be dried up. Heaven, the habitation of God's glory, where myriads of celestial intelligences are contem- plating his infinite perfections, would become, from a place of perfect and unmingled happiness, a scene of unutterable, inconceivable misery. 'Jehovah is no longer worthy to be trusted ! Jehovah is no longer worthy to be trusted !' would be the universal and pathetic exclamation. ' We thought there was one Being, and only one, on whom Ave might depend ; but sven He has failed ; and where now shall we look for perfection !' But, blessed be God ! these dreadful imaginings can never be realized, for Jehovah will never changed In this connection we shall introduce a paragraph communicated by a ministering brother, who occupied his pulpit on the day in which the interview men- tioned took place ; EDWARD PAYSON. 451 "As an instance of his strong fancy, and of the Uses to which he applied it, I will mention, that on the last Sabbath in which, with great difficulty, he entered the house of God, he said to me — 'I find in my illness that the power of imagination is unweak- ened, and that it is very easy for me to wander into the regions of fancy. On the subject of the wisdom of God in the direction of mysterious events, and our duty of submission and faith, it has occurred to me recently, that our conceptions might be assisted by imagining God to take a human form, answering — if it were possible — to his infinite nature. What would be its dimensions? The angel in the book of Revela- tion is represented as standing with one foot on the sea and the other on the land, and lifting up his hand to heaven. But were God in a form such as I have supposed, one foot would be on the remotest star in one direction of infinite space, and the other foot on the remotest star in the opposite direction of the un- bounded expanse : — and should we propose to climb from his feet to the glories of his face — if we had the speed of light, and had been traveling from the crea- tion of the world, we should have made little progress in our journey. And shall we then presumptuously judge of the ways of this God, and imagine that we could manage earthly things more wisely than he ? Shall we have any doubts as to his unfailmg wisdom, and perfect rectitude, and infinite goodness V I have not been able to give you his words, but I have given you his thoughts." Of the penetrating and all-absorbing effect of his last public ministrations, particularly at the commu- nion table, some feeble conception may be formed 452 MEMOIR OF from an extract furnished by a gentleman, who, fur twelve years, had been only an occasional attendant on his ministry. The first paragraph has no special reference to this period, but may properly be retained for the value of its testimony : "At the sacramental table especially did his mind appear to be absorbed in the contemplation of things unseen and eternal. To a candid observer it was manifest, at such seasons, that his ' fellowship was with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ.' 1 doubt not that I express the feelings of each membei of his church, when I say that often, on these occa- sions, he seemed to soar to the third heaven, and by those fervent and elevated effusions of thought with which he always accompanied his administration ol the ordinance, he literally carried the minds if not the hearts of his hearers with him. His influence in this re- spect is associated with my earliest recollections of Dr Payson. In one particular instance, which occurred during my boyhood, such was the absorbing influence of his eloquence on my own mind ; arising, doubtless, more from the attraction of his fervent zeal, and that creative fancy for vv'hich he was so remarkably dis- tinguished, than from any special regard on my own part, to the truths he uttered ; that from the com- mencement of the j)ublic services of the afternoon to the close of the sacramental season which succeeded them, it seemed like a pleasing reverie; and had all the efiect of an ocular survey of every scene connect- ed wiih the humiliation and exaltation of the Savior. So strong was the mental impression received, that I can still distinctly recollect not only his text on that occasion — Rev. 4 : 3, latter clause — but also the hymn EDWARD PAYSON. 453 with which the public services were introduced — H. 25, B. 1, Watts. He seemed to have taken his flight from one of the most elevated heights of meditation, and to soar in a climax of devotion and sublimity of thought, until faith changed the heavenly vision into a reality, and spread all the glories of redemption around the consecrated symbols of Christ's death. "I had the solemn pleasure, too, of being present at one of his last communion seasons with the church on earth. It was an affecting, a soul-cheering scene. Its interest was greatly enhanced by the nearness in which he seemed to stand to the communion of the cL'urch triumphant. His body was so emaciated with long and acute suffering, that it was scarcely able to sustain the effort once more imposed upon it ; but his soul, raised above its perishing influence, and filled with a joyful tranquillity, seemed entirely regardless of the weakness of its mortal tenement. His right hand and arm were so palsied by disease as to be quite useless, except that in the act of breaking the bread, when he could not well dispense with it, he placed it on the table with the other hand, just as you raise any lifeless weight, until it had performed the service re- quired of it. It seemed as if he Vv'as unwilling that even the Vv^ithered hand should be found unemployed in the holy work. Truly, thought I, there must be a blessed reality in that religion which can thus make the soul tranquil and happy in the constant and rapid advances of decay and death ! '• I have never known Dr. Payson when he seemed more abstracted from earth than on this occasion. It Avas, as he supposed, and as his church feared, their final interview at that table. In all the glowing fer- 454 MEMOIR or voY of devotion, assisted by his ever-fertile imagina- tion, he contemplated the Savior as visibly present in the midst of them ; and with his usual eloquence and closeness of appeal he seemed to make each commu- nicant feel that what he had imagined Avas a reality. There was a breathless silence ; and the solemnity ot the scene could hardly have been surpassed, if, as he expressed it, the Lord Jesus Christ were seen sitting before them, or addressing to each individual member the momentous inquiry, ' Lovest thou me V I can say for one, that the terrors of hypocrisy never swelled so fearful, and the realities of the judgment-seat never seemed nearer, than at that solemn hour. And I trust many were then enabled from the heart to pray, with the Psalmist, Search me, O God, &c. "From the occasional opportunities I have enjoyed of attending on Dr. Payson's administration of that ordinance, I can have no doubt that they were to him foretastes of that supper of the Lamb on whose more blessed celebration he so triumphantly entered. And it is an interesting, a momentous question — "Shall we, Avho sat with him below, " Conijriune with him above ?" On the first of July he attended public worship, and, after a sermon from his assistant, he rose and ad- dressed his people thus : " Ever since I became a minister, it has been my earnest wish that I might die of some disease which would allow me to preach a farewell sermon to my people ; but as it is not probable that I shall ever be able to do this, I will attempt to say a feAV words now : — it may be the last time that I shall ever ad- EDWARD PAYSON. 455 dfess you. This is not merely a presentiment. It is an opinion founded on facts, and maintained by phy- sicians acquainted with my case, that I shall never be- hold another spring. '' And now, standing on the borders of the eternal world, I look back on my past ministry, and on the manner in which I have performed its duties ; and, O my hearers, if you have not performed your duties bet- ter than I have mine, wo ! wo ! be to you — unless you have an Advocate and Intercessor in heaven. We have lived together twenty years, and have spent more than a thousand Sabbaths together, and I have given you at least two thousand warnings. I am now going to ren- der an account how they were given, and you, my hearers, will soon have to render an account how they were received. Owe more warning I will give you. Once more your shepherd, who will be yours no long- er, entreats you to flee from the wrath to come. Oh, let me have the happiness of seeing my dear people at- tending to their eternal interests, that I may not have reason to say, I have labored in vam, I have spent my strength for nought." At the communion table the same day he said — "Christians seem to expect that their views of Christ and love to him will increase without their using the proper means. They should select some scene in his life, and meditate long upon it, and strive lo bring the circumstances before their minds, and im agine how he thought and felt at the time. At first, all Avill appear confused and indistinct ; but let them continue to look steadily, and the mists will disap- pear, and their hearts Avill begin to burn with love to their Savior. At least one scene in Christ's life 456 MEMOIR OP should be thus reviewed every day, if the Christian hopes to find his love to his Redeemer increase." His public labors were now nearly over ; but he was daily and hourly uttering something to rouse the care- less, or for the instruction, edification, and comfort of God's children. To his daughter, Avho expressed a wish that labor as certainly ensured success in spiritual as in temporal affairs, he said—" It does ; it is just as certain that prayers for spiritual blessings will be answered when- ever God sees best, as that the husbandman, who sows his seed with proper precaution, will reap. The only reason that our endeavors to obtain spiritual blessings are not oftener attended with success, is, they are not made in earnest. Never omit prayer, or any devotion- al exercise, when the stated season for it arrives, be- cause you feel indisposed to the duty." July 12, 13, 1827. On both these days Dr. Payson seemed a little revived. He had tried sailing around the harbor, and found it beneficial. On repeating the experiment, however, he discovered that though these water excursions were of service to his lungs, they in- creased the paralytic affection — if such it was — in his arm, and they were relinquished. July 22. Sabbath. To his daughter he said, " There is nothing in which young converts are more prone to err, than in laying too much stress upon their feelings. If ihey have a comfortable half hour in the morning it atones for a multitude of sins in the course of the day. Christ says, 'If ye love me, keep my commandments.' It would be well for us to pay more attention to our conduct, and prove the depth of our feeling by our obedience." He also advised her to observe some plan EDWARD PAYSOX- 457 with reo-ard to reading on the Sabbath. In the morn- ing he recommended reading the Scriptures exclusive- ly, and afterwards works intended to convey informa- tion respecting religious subjects. July 29. He remarked to some new converts who called, that the most important direction he could give them was, to spend much time. in retired converse with the Scriptures, and with God. '' if you wished to cherish the remembrance of an absent friend, you would read over his letters daily, meditate on his acts of kindness to you, and look at any tokens of affection which he might have left you. " We are accustomed to suppose that God's feel- ings towards us vary according to our own ; that when we are in a lively spiritual frame of mind he regards us with more complacency than at other times. This is not the case. The feelings with which God regards* us do not fluctuate like ours." August 5. Sabbath. This day he entered the meet- ing-house for the last time ; and this month completes twenty years since he entered it the first time as a preacher — then a trembling youth, now the spiritual father of many hundreds ; then just girded for the Avar- fare, now the veteran who had " fought the good fight," and was just going to resign his commission and re- ceive a crown of unfading glory. He made a great effort to go out, as there were twenty-one persons to be admitted to the church. He was supported into the house by his senior deacons ; and although he merely read the covenant and remained during the adminis- tration of the sacrament, he was exceedingly overcome. Most of the persons present were much affected, and M. p. 39 45S MEMOIR OP after the services many crowded around him, to take his hand for the last time. August 8. He had a violent nervous head-ache ; and was much interrupted in speaking by a difficulty of breathing; but said in a cheerful voice to some of his church who were in — " I want you always to believe that God is faithful. However dark and mysterious any of his dispensations may appear, still confide in him. He can make you happy when every thing else is taken from you." August 13. He received from a society of young men in his congregation, who were associated for reli- gious improvement, a letter, in which they generously offered to give his son a liberal education. The follow- ing is his answer: " To the Society for Religious Improvement. ** Beloved Bi^ethren, '• No act of kindness which it was in the power of man to show could have been more soothing to my anxieties as a dying parent, or more grateful to a dy- ing minister, than your unexpected and most generous offer to furnish the means of a liberal education to my oldest son. " Most fervently do I thank you for making this offer, and the Author of all good for inducing you to do it. To see him thus already beginning to take care of a family which I must soon leave, is a great en- couragement 10 my faith that he will continue to take care of them after I am gone. "If it is any satisfaction to you to know that you have assisted to smooth your pastor's dying pillow, and shed light on his last hours, you may feel that sa- EDWARD PAYSON. 459 tisfaction in a very liigli degree. With most earnest prayers that God Vv^ould reward you abundantly for this kind offer, I have concluded to accept it, provided that my son, Vv^hen he shall have attained the age of sixteen, shall be found to possess such a character a;-; will justify a hope that he will make a good use of the advantages with which you generously furnish him. And now, brethren, farewell." During this month his "wreck of being" Avas fur- ther shattered by a spasmodic cough, which at times threatened absolute strangulation. Sept. 4. He said to his wife and daughter — " I do not think you are sufficiently thankful for my conso- lations, or realize how wonderful it is that I am thus supported. Owing to my natural activity, and un- willingness to be dependent on others for the supply of my wants, these trials are exactly those which are most calculated to make me miserable. But God can sweeten the bitterest cupj' He afterwards said, with emotions which would hardly allow him to speak, — " Oh, my daughter, how you will regret, when you come to see how good God is, that you did not serve him better. Oh ! he is so good, so good." Sept. 9. During the preceding week he had rode out several times, being carried down stairs and lift- ed into the chaise. For a ie\Y days he thought him- self better; but these favorable appearances were of short duration. He remarked that sometimes, in or- der to try his people's faith, God gives them a pros- pect that an affliction is about to be removed, and then permits it to return again. He compared his present case to that of a man, who, after having been 460 MEMOIR OF a long time confined in prison, finds his door open one morning; but, on attempting to leave it, the door is suddenly closed with such violence as to throw him prostrate on the floor. He was asked on this day by some of his friends, if he could see any particular reason for this dispen- sation. " No," replied he; "but lam as well satis- fied as if I could see ten thousand. God's will is the very perfection of all reason." In answer to the question by a lady from B. Are you better than you were? he replied, "Not in body, but in mind. If my happiness continues to increase, I cannot support it much longer." On being asked. Are your views of heaven clearer and brighter than ever before ? he said — "Why, for a few moments, I may have had as bright ; but formerly my joys were tumultuous ; now all is calm and peaceful." He was asked, " In your anticipations of heaven, do you think of meeting departed friends ?" After a moment's re- flection he said, with a most expressive countenance, " If I meet Christ, 'tis no matter whether I see others or not — though I shall want some to help me praise him." He doubtless had an opinion on this subject; but he remembered Christ's answer to the question, " Are there few that be saved ?" " God deals strangely with his creatures to promote iheir happiness. Who would have thought that I must be reduced to this state, helpless and crippled, to experience the highest enjoyment !" " You ought to feel happy, all ought to feel happy who come here, for they are within a few steps of heaven." During the course of this conversation he repeated this verse, "' Thy sun shall no more go down, EDWARD PAYSON. 461 neither shall thy moon withdraw itself; for the Lord shall be thine eA'erlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended." Turning to a young lady present, he said, " Do you not think this is worth tra- veling over many high hills and difficult places to ob- tain ?" " Give my love to my friends in Boston; tell them all I ever said in praise of God or religion falls infinitely belovvr the truth." " Dr. Clarke in his travels, speaking of the compa- nies that Avere traveling from the East to Jerusalem, represents the procession as being very long ; and, af- ter climbing over the extended and heavy ranges of hills that bounded the way, some of the foremost at length reached the top of the last hill, and, stretching up their hands in gestures of joy, cried out, ' The Holy City ! the Holy City !' — and fell down and wor- shiped ; while those who were behind pressed for- ward to see. So the dying Christian, when he gets on the last summit of life, and stretches his vision to catch a glimpse of the heavenly city, may cry out of its glories, and incite those who are behind to press forward to the sight." To a clergyman — " Oh, if ministers only saw the inconcei\^able glory that is before them, and the pre- ciousness of Christ, they would not be able to refrain from going about leaping and clapping their hands for joy, and exclaiming, I'm a minister of Christ ! I'm a minist^^r of Christ !" " When I read Bunyan's description of the land of Beulah, where the sun shines and the birds sing day and night, I used to doubt whether there was such a place ; but now my own experience has convinced me M. p. 39* 462 MEMOIR OF of it, and it infinitely transcends all my previous con- ceptions." " I think the happiness I enjoy is similar to that en- joyed by glorified spirits before the resurrection." Sept. 16. Sabbath. He awaked exclaiming, " I am going to mount Zion, to the city of the living God, to the heavenly Jerusalem, to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the first-born, and to God the Judge of all." During the night of September 17th he was seized with spasms, which it seemed must separate soul and body. It w-as [not thought by his physician that he could survive a second attack ; but his hold on life re- mained, though the spasms continued to return every succeeding night with more or less violence. Every new attack seemed, however, to strengthen the ener- gies of his mind. No better evidence of this can be desired, than is exhibited in a letter which he dictated to his sister : " September 19, 1827. "Dear Sister, "Were I to adopt the figurative language of Bun- yan, I might date this letter from the land of Beulah, of which I have been for some weeks a happy inhabi- tant. The celestial city is full in my view. Its glories beam upon me, its breezes fan me, its odors are wafted to me, its sounds strike upon my ears, and its spirit is breathed into my heart. Nothing separates me from it but the river of death, which now appears but as an insignificant rill, that may be crossed at a single step, whenever God shall give permission. The Sun of Righteousness has been gradually drawing nearer and nearer, appearing larger and brighter as he approached, EDWARD PAY30N. 463 and now he fills the whole hemisphere ; pouring forth a flood of glory, in which I seem to float like an insect in the beams of the sun ; exulting, yet almost trem- bling while I gaze on this excessive brightness, and wondering, with unutterable wonder, why God should deign thus to shine upon a sinful worm. A single heart and a single tongue seem altogether inadequate to my wants : I want a whole heart for every separate emotion, and a whole tongue to express that emotion. " But why do I speak thus of myself and my feel- ings ? why not speak only of our God and Redeemer? It is because I know not what to say. When I would speak of them my words are all swallowed up. I can only tell you what eflects their presence produces, and even of these I can tell you but very little. O, my sister ! my sister ! could you but know what awaits the Christian ; could you know only so much as I know, you could not refrain from rejoicing, and even leaping for joy. Labors, trials, troubles would be no- thing : you would rejoice in afflictions and glory in tribulations ; and, like Paul and Silas, sing God's praises in the darkest night and in the deepest dun- geon. You have known a little of my trials and con- flicts, and know that they have been neither few nor small ; and I hope this glorious termination of them will serve to strengthen your faith and elevate your hope. " And now, my dear, dear sister, farewell. Hold oa your Christian course but a few days longer, and yoa will meet in heaven, " Your happy and affectionate brother, " Edward Payson." The next day he sent for the editor of a religious 464 MEMOIR OP journal and expressed his wishes in regard to the dis- position which should be made of a certain class of effusions which his exit would probably call forth ; adding, '" I make this request about as much for your sake as my own." He had then survived three or four of these dreadful nocturnal attacks, but observed that he could not calculate upon surviving another. In answer to the question, why he was thus affected in the night rather than the day — he proceeded Avith as much readiness as if it had been the study of his life, to give a philosophical a •■ ount of the change which takes place in the body, in its transit from a state of wakefulness to that of sleep. " Then," said he, '-that is as soon as the will resigns its power over the mus- cles and organs of the body — then my diseases com- mence their gambols." To his daughter, who was obliged to defer a con- templated undertaking by an approaching storm, he turned and said with a smile — '• I suppose you feel as if the equinox ought to be deferred on account of your school." Sept. 21. '' O what a blessed thing it is to lose one's will ! Since I have lost my will I have found happiness. There can be no such thing as disappoint- ment to me. for I have no desires but that God's will may be accomplished. " I have been all my life like a child whose father wishes to fix his undivided attention. At first, the child ru^s about the room — but his father ties up his feet; he then plays with his hands, until they likewise are tied. Thus he continues to do, till he is completely tied up ; then, when he can do nothing else, he will attend to his father. Just so God has been dealinsr with EDWARD PAYSON. 465 rae, to induce me to place my happiness in him alone. But I blindly continued to look for it here ; and God has kept cutting off one source of enjoyment after ano- ther, till I find that I can do without them all, and yet enjoy more happiness than ever in my life before. " It sounds so flat, when people tell me that it is just for God to afflict me, as if justice did not require infinitely more." He was asked, " Do you feel reconciled ?" — " O ! that is too cold. I rejoice, I triumph ! and this happi- ness will endure as long as God himself, for it con- sists in admiring and adoring him." " I can find no words to express my happiness. I ieem to be swimming in a river of pleasure, which is carrying me on to the great fountain." Sabbath morning, Sept. 23d, he said, — " Last night I had a full, clear view of Death as the king of terrors ; how he comes and crowds the poor sinner to the very verge of the precipice of destruction, and then pushes him down headlong ! But I felt that I had nothing to do with this ; and I loved to sit like an infant at the feet of Christ, who saved me from this fate. I felt that death Avas disarmed of all its terrors ; all he could do would be to touch me, and let my soul loose to go to my Savior. " Christians are like passengers setting out together in a ship for some distant country. Very frequently one drops overboard ; but his companions know that he has only gone a shorter way to the same port ; and that when they arrive there they shall find him ; so that all they lose is his company during the rest of the voyage." '' I long to measure out a full cup of happiness to 466 MEMOIR OF every body, but Christ wisely keeps that prerogative in his own hands." " It seems as if all the bottles of heaven were opened ; and all its fullness and happiness, and, I trust, no small portion of its benevolence, is come down into my heart." " I am more and more convinced that the happiness of heaven is a benevolent happiness. In proportion as my joy has increased Lhave been filled with intense love to all creatures, and a strong desire that they might partake of my happiness." Sept. 26. In answer to some complaints of one ot the family he said — '• Perhaps there is nothing more trying to the faith and patience of Christians, or v/hich appears to them more mysterious, than the small sup- plies of grace which they receive, and the delays Avhich they meet with in having their prayers answered; so that they are sometimes ready to say, It is in vain to wait upon the Lord any longer." He then mentioned the text, " ' Wherefore gird up the loins of your minds, be sober, and hope to the end for the grace that is to be brought unto you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.'' A large portion of the grace which Christians are to receive will be given to them at the second coming of Christ, or immediately after death; and this will al- ways be in proportion to their prayers and exertions here. Christians need not, therefore, be discouraged at the slow progress they make, and the little success which attends their efforts ; for they may be assured that every exertion is noticed, and will be rewarded, by their heavenly Father." To a young convert he said — " You will have to go through many conflicts and trials ; you must be put EDWARD PAYSON. 467 m the furnace, and tempted, and tried, in order to show you what is in your heart. Sometimes it will seem as if Satan had you in his power, and that the more you struggle and pray against sin, the more it prevails against you. But when you are thus tried and despond- ing, remember me ; I have gone through all this, and now you see the end." To another — '* You recollect the story of David res- cuing the lamb from the lion and the bear. David loved the lamb before he rescued it from danger ; but he loved it more afterwards. So Christ loves all his creatures ; but he loves them more after he has taken them into liis fold, and owned them as the purchase of his pre- cious blood." •' Christians might avoid much trouble and incon- venience, if they Vv'ould only believe what they pro- fess— that God is able to make them happy without any thing else. They imagine that if such a dear fiiend were to die, or such and such blessings to be removed, they should be miserable; whereas God can make them a thousand times happier without them. To mention my own case — God has been depriving me of one blessing after another : but, as every one was removed, he has come in and filled up its place ; and now, Avhen I am a cripple, and not able to move, I am happier than ever I was in my life before, or ever expected to be ; and if I had believed this twenty years ago. I might have been spared much anxiety." '• If God had told me some time ago that he was about to make me as happy as I could be in this world, and then had told me that he should begin by crippling me in all my limbs, and removing me from all my usual sources of enjoyment; I should have 46S MEMOIR or ihoughl it a very strange mode of accomplishing his purpose. And yet, how is liis wisdom manifest even in this ! for if you should see a man shut up in a close room, idolizing a set of lamps and rejoicing in their light, and you wished to make him truly happy, you would begin by blowing out all his lamps ; and then throw open the shutters to let in the light of heaven." '* Suppose a son is walking with his father, in whose wisdom he places the most entire confidence. He fol- lows wherever his father leads, though it may be through thorns and briers, cheerfully and contentedly. Another son, we will suppose, distrusts his father's wisdom and love, and, when the path is rough or un- even, begins to murmur and repine, wishing that he might be allowed to choose his OAvn path ; and though he is obliged to folloAv, it is with great reluctance and discontent. Now, the reason that Christians in gene- ral do not enjoy more of God's presence is, that they are not willing to walk in his path when it crosses their own inclinations. But we shall never be happy until we acquiesce with perfect cheerfulness in all his decisions, and follow wherever he leads, without a murmur." After it had become certain that he would never again leave his chamber till he was carried out, yet, being unceasingly desirous to benefit his people, he sent a request, which was announced from the pulpit, that they would repair to his chamber. Once, it is believed, they came indiscriminately ; at other times in specified classes, including as many as the cham- ber could contain. When he had addressed to them collectively his last most solemn and affectionate Gounsel. till compelled to desist by the failure of his EDWARD PAYSON. 469 Strength, he took them individually by the hand, and, with a heavenly smile, bade them farewell I To the members of his congregation he spoke near- ly as follows : " It has often been remarked that people who have been into the other world cannot come back to tell us what they have seen ; but I am so near the eternal world that I can see almost as clearly as if I were there ; and I see enough to satisfy myself at least ot the truth of the doctrines which I have preached. I do not know that I should feel at all surer had I been really there. " It is always interesting to see others in a situation m which we know that we must shortly be placed our- selves ; and we all know that we must die. And to see a poor creature when, after an alternation of hopes and fears, he finds that his disease is mortal, and death comes to tear him away from every thing he loves, and crowds, and crowds him to the very verge of the precipice of destruction, and then thrusts him down headlong ! There he is, cast into an unknown world ; no friend, no Savior to receive him ! " O how different is this from the stale of a man who is prepared to die! He is not obliged to be crowded reluctantly along; but the other world comes like a great magnet to draw him away from this ; and he knows that he is going to enjoy — and not only knows but begins to taste it — perfect happiness ; for ever and ever; for ever and ever! ***** " And now God is in this room ; I see him ! and O how unspeakably lovely and glorious does he appear! worthy of ten thousand thousand hearts, if we had them. He is here, and hears me pleading with the M. p. 40 470 MEIMOIR OP creatures that he has made, whom he preserves and loads with blessings, to love him. And O how terri- ble does it appear to me to sin against this God ; to set up our wills in opposition to his ; and when we awake in the morning, 'instead of thinking, ' What shall I do to please my God to-day?' to inquire, 'What shall I do to please myself to-day ?' " After a short pause he continued, "It makes my blood run cold to think how inexpressibly miserable I should now be without religion. To lie here and see myself tot- tering on the verge of destruction ! — O, I should be distracted ! And when I see my fellow-creatures lia- ble every moment to be reduced to this situation, I am in an agony for them that they may escape their dan- ger before it be too late. When people repent they begin to see God's infinite perfections, how amiable and glorious he is, and the heart relents and mourns that it has treated him so ungratefully. " Suppose we should hear the sound of a man's voice pleading earnestly with some one, but could not dis- tinguish the words ; and v/e should inquire, ' What is that man pleading for so earnestly V ' O, he is only pleading Avith a fellow-creature to love his God, his Savior, his Preserver and Benefactor. He is only plead- ing with him not to throw away his immortal soul, not to pull down everlasting wretchedness upon his own head. He is only persuading him to avoid eternal mi- sery, and to accept eternal happiness.' ' Is it possible,' we should exclaim, ' that any persuasion can be ne- cessary for this?' and yet it is necessary. O my friends, do, do love this glorious Being — do seek for the salva- tion of your immortal souls. Hear the voice of your dying minister, while he entreats you to care for your souls." EDWARD PAYSON. 471 He afterwards said — " I am always sorry -when I say any thing to any one who comes in ; it seems so inadequate to what I wish to express. The words sink right dov/n under the weight of the meaning I wish to convey." On another occasion — " I find no satisfaction in look- ing at any thing I have done ; I want to leave all this behind — it is nothing — and fly to Christ to be clothed in his righteousness." Again — '' I have done nothing myself. I have not fought, but Christ has fought for me ; I have not run, but Christ has carried me ; I have not worked, but Christ has wrought in me — Christ has done all." The perfections of God were to him a well-spring of joy, and the promises were " breasts of consola- tion," whence his soul drew its comfort and its ali- ment. " O !" exclaimed he, " the loving-kindness of God — his loving-kindness ! This afternoon, while I was meditating on it, the Lord seemed to pass by, and proclaim himself ' The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious !' O how gracious ! Try to conceive of that, his loving-kindness^ as if it were not enough to say kindness, but — loving kindness. What must be the loving kindness of God, who is himself infinite love!" " It seemed this afternoon as if Christ said to me, ' You have often wondered and been impatient at the way by which I have led you ; but what do you think of it now?' And I was cut to the heart when I looked back and saw the wisdom and goodness by which I had been guided, that I could ever for a moment dis- trust his love." A clergyman from another state, who visited Dr. Payson about this stage of his illness, gave the follow- 472 MEMOIR or iug account of the interview in a letter to a friend : " His eye beams with the same animation as ever. The muscles of his face are unaffected by that which has spread all but death throughout the other parts of his system. When I entered the chamber, addressing me with a smile, he said, ' I have no hand to welcome you with, but I am glad to see you.' I observed to him that I was reluctant to lay any tax upon him in his present weak state, but had felt desirous to see him a moment. He replied that he did not feel parsimonious of the poor remains of strength he had left : he had got so near through, that it was not worth "w^^jle to be so- licitous about saving for future time. He *cjiainjBfsed in a low, audible voice, and in the same strain-'oT pointed, pithy remark as when in health. He observed ^hat the point in which he believed ministers generally failed most, and in which he had certainly failed mb^L was in doing duty professionally, and not froni tm heart. I could not but say to him that probably,!^ practice had been marked with less of this error than that of most others. He seemed pained with the thought that any should be more deficient than he had been : ' O, I hope it is not so ! I hope it is not so !' Referring to the peace which the Gospel afforded him under his trials, he said, ' I have never half valued as I ought the doctrines which I have preached. The system is great and glorious, and is worthy of our utmost efforts to promote it. The interests depending will justify us in our strongest measures. In every respect we may em- bark our all upon it ; it will sustain us.' " Speaking of the temper requisite to the right dis- charge of ministerial duty, he said, ' I never was fit to say a word to a sinner, except when I had a broken EDWARD PAYSON. 473 heart myself; when I Avas subdued and melted into penitence, and felt as though I had just received par- don to my own soul, and when my heart was full of tenderness and pity — no anger, no anger.' He express- ed himself with great earnestness respecting the grace of God as exercised in saving lost men, and seemed particularly affected that it should be bestowed on one so ill deserving as himself. ' O how sovereign ! O hov/ sovereign ! Grace is the only thing that can make us like God. I might be dragged through heaven, earth and hell, and I should be still the same sinful, polluted wretch, unless God himself should reneAv and cleanse me.' He inquired whether I could preach to his people on the morrow. Being told that I was not w^ell, he re- plied, ' Then do not preach ; I have too often preached when I was not able.' " On taking leave I expressed a hc-pe that he might continue to enjoy the presence of God, and receive even increasing peace, if he could bear it. ' O !' said he, 'when we meet in heaven we shall see how little we know about it.' His whole manner and appear- ance is that of a man who has drunk into the spirit of heaven far more deeply than those around him." October 7. In conversation with his eldest daugh- ter, on being asked whether self-examination was not a very difficult duty for young Christians to perform, he replied, "Yes; and for old ones too, because it is displeasing to the pride of the heart, because v/ander- ing thoughts are then most apt to intrude, and because of the deceitfulness of the heart. When a Christian first begins to look into his heart, he sees nothing but confusion ; a heap of sins and a very little good mix- ed up together ; and he knows not how to separate ivi. p. 40"' 474 MEMOIR or them, or how to begin self-examination. But let him persevere in his efforts, and soon order -vviil arise out of confusion." She mentioned to him a passage in the life of Mr. Alieine, which led him to say, "We never confess any faults that we consider really dis- graceful. We complain of our hardness of heart, stu- pidity, &c. but we never confess envy, or covetous- ness, or revenge, or any thing that we suppose will lower us in the opinion of others ; and this proves that we do not feel ashamed of coldness or stupidity. In short, when young Christians make confessions, un- less there is an obvious call for them, it usually pro- ceeds from one of these three motives ; either they wish to be thought very humble, and to possess great knowledge of their own hearts ; or they think it is a fault which the other has perceived, and are willing to have the credit of having discovered and striven against it; or they confess some fault, from which they are remarkably free, in order to elicit a compliment. " There are no two feelings apparently more unlike than mortified pride and gratified pride ; yet they are, in reality, very similar ; and we are indulging one of these feelings almost constantly. When God permits eveiy thing to go on very smoothly, and grants us some comforts, our pride is gratified ; we are pleased with ourselves, with God — and call the feeling grati- tude— and with those around us ; we can be very plea- sant and obliging. But let this state of things be re- versed ; let our corruptions be suffered to break loose, and trials and conflicts to assail us — then our pride is mortified ; we begin to fret and repine, and say that all our endeavors are useless. You cannot yet con- ceive how very small a portion of grace we have; so EDWARD PAYSON. 475 that, if we doubt whether matter is infinitely divisible, we can hardly doubt that grace is so." "With regard to self-examination, we should al ways have, as it were, our eye turned inward, to watch our motives and feelings. We should also, at night, review the conduct of the day ; and it would aid you to do this, if you made an abstract of the duties you owe to God and to your fellow-creatures in the seve- ral relations of life, and also of your besetting sins. But the most important direction I can give you is, to look to Christ ; for while we are contemplating his perfections Ave insensibly imbibe his Spirit." Notwithstanding his deep seriousness, there was occasionally a pleasantry in iris manner of expressing himself which would excite an involuntary smile : '• What contrary and unreasonable creatures we are ! The more God does for us the less we thank him. Here I am, stripped of more than half my blessings, as we ordinarily estimate them, and yet I never felt half so grateful to God before. We are just like the harlequin when hired to mourn, of whom his em- ployer said, ' The better I pay liim the more he won't grieve.' " A gray-headed member of his church, who is usu- ally very abrupt in his address, but generally very scriptural, entered his chamber one day with the salu- tation— " Watchman, what of the night ?" — " I should think it was about noon-day," was the answer. On Sabbath-day, Oct. 7, it was the privilege of the young men of the congregation to assemble, at his re- quest, in his chamber, v/hen he addressed them in sub- stance as follows : " My young friends, you will all one day be obliged 476 MEMOIR OF to embark on the same voyage on which I am just embarking ; and as it has been my especial employ- ment, during my past life, to recommend to you a Pi- lot to guide you through this voyage, I wished to teil you what a precious Pilot he is, that you may be in- duced to choose him for yours. I felt desirous that you might see that the religion I have preached can support me in death. You know that I have many ties which bind me to earth — a family to whom I am strongly attached, and a people whom I love almost as well — but the other world acts like a much stronger magnet, and draws my heart away from this. Death comes every night and stands by my bedside in the form of terrible convulsions, every one of which threat- ens to separate the soul from the body. These conti- nue to grow worse and worse, until every bone is al- most dislocated with pain, leaving me with the cer- tainty that I shall have it all to endure again the next night. Yet, while my body is thus tortured, the soul is perfectly, perfectly happy and peaceful — more hap- py than I can possibly express to you. 1 lie here and feel these convulsions extending higher and higher ; but my soul is filled with joy unspeakable. I seem to swim in a flood of glory which God pours down upon me. And I know, I know that my happiness is but be- gun ; I cannot doubt that it will last for ever. And now, is this all a delusion ? Is it a delusion which can fill the soul to overflowing with joy in such cir- cumstances ? If so, it is surely a delusion better than any reality. But no, it is not a delusion; I feel that it is not. I do not merely know that I shall enjoy all this — / enjoy it now. " My young friends — were I master of the whole EDWARD PAYSON. 477 world, what could it do for me like this ? Were all its wealth at my feet, and all its inhabitants striving to make me happy, what could they do for me ? Nothing ! nothing ! Now, all this happiness I trace back to the religion which I have preached, and to the time when that great change took place in my heart, which I have often told you is necessary to salvation ; and I now tell you again, that without this change you cannot, no, you cannot see the kingdom of God. "And now, standing as I do on the ridge which se- parates the two Avorlds, feeling what intense happiness or misery the soul is capable of sustaining ; judging of your capacities by my own, and believing that those capacities will be filled to the very brim with joy or wretchedness for ever ; can it be wondered at that my heart yearns over you, my children, that you may choose life and not death ? Is it to be wondered at that I long to present every one of you with a cup of happiness and see you drink it ; that I long to have you make the same choice which I made, and from which springs all my happiness? " A young man just about to leave this world ex- claimed, ' The battle's fought ! the battle's fought ! the battle's fought ! but the victory is lost for ever !' But I can say. The battle's fought and the victory is won! the victory is won, for ever ! I am going to bathe in an ocean of purity, and benevolence, and happiness, to all eternity. And now, my children, let me bless you ; not with the blessing of a poor, feeble, dying man, but Avith the blessing of the infinite God. The grace of God, and the love of Christ, and the commu- nion of the Holy Ghost, be with all, and each one of you, for ever and ever : Amen." 478 MEMOIR OF Having delivered his dying messages to all classes among his own flock, he commissioned a ministering brother to bear one to the Association of Ministers, who were to meet in a few days. The purport of it was — " a hearty assurance of the ardent love with which he remembered them even in death ; an exhor- tation to love one another with a pure heart fervently ; to love their work, to be diligent in it, to expect suc- cess, to bear up under their discouragements, be faith- ful unto death, and look for their reward in heaven," I rejoice, said the brother, rejoice more than I can ex- press, to be the bearer of such a message ; for you, perhaps, are aware that many of your brethren have thought you distant and reserved, and as having che- rished too little of a fellow-feeling towards them. " I know it," said he ; " but my apparent reserve was not owing to any want of affection for them, but to a very different cause : I have been all my days like a soldier in the fore-front of the hottest battle, so intent in fight- ing for my own life, that / could not see who was fall- ing around we." While speaking of the rapturous views he had of the heavenly world, he was asked if it did not seem almost like the clear light of vision, rather than that of faith. " Oh!" he replied, "I don't knoAv — it is too much for the poor eyes of my soul to bear ! — they are almost blinded Avith the excessive brightness. All I want is to be a mirror, to reflect some of those rays to those around me." " My soul, instead of growing weaker and more languishing, as my body does, seems to be endued with an angel's energies, and to be ready to break from the body and join those around the throne." EDWARD PAYSON. 479 A friend, with whom he had been conversing on his extreme bodily sufferings and his high spiritual joys, remarked — " I presume it is no longer incredible to you, if ever it was, that martyrs should rejoice and praise God in the flames and on the rack." — " No," said he, " I can easily believe it. I have suffered twenty times — yes, to speak within bounds — twenty times as much as I could in being burnt at the stake, while my joy in God so abounded as to render my sufferings not only tolerable but welcome. The suf- ferings of this 'present time are not worthy to be com- pared with the glory that shall he revealed. At another time — " God is literally now my all in all. While he is present with me no event can in the least diminish my happiness ; and were the whole world at my feet trying to minister to my comfort, they could not add one drop to the cup. " It seems as if the promise, ' God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes,' was already fulfilled to me, as it respects tears of sorrow. I have no tears to shed now but those of love, and joy, and thankfulness." October 16. To his daughter — " You will avoid much pain and anxiety, if you will learn to trust all your concerns in God's hand. ' Cast all your care upon him, for he careth for you.' But if you merely go and say that you cast your care upon him, you will come away with the load on your shoulders. If I had the en- tire disposal of your situation, and could decide how many scholars you should have, and what success you should meet with, you would feel no anxiety, but would rely on my love and wisdom; and if you should discover any solicitude, it would show that you distrusted one ax the other of these. Now all your concerns are m the 480 MEMOIR OP hands of a merciful and wise Father ; therefore it is an insult to him to be careful and anxious concerning them. Trust him for all — abilities, success, and every thing else — and you will never have reason to repent it," At one time he was heard to break forth in the fol- lowing soliloquy : " What an assemblage of motives to holiness does the Gospel present ! I am a Christian — Avhat then ? Why, I am a redeemed sinner — a pardoned rebel — all through grace, and by the most wonderful means which infinite wisdom could devise. I am a Christian — Avhat then 7 Why, I am a temple of God, and surely I ought to be pure and holy. I am a Christian — what then 7 I am a child of God, and ought to be filled with filial love, reverence, joy, and gratitude. I am a Christian — what then ? Why, I am a disciple of Christ, and must imitate him who was meek and lowly in heart, and pleased not himself. I am a Christian — what then? Why, I am an heir of heaven, and hastening on to the abodes of the blessed, to join the full choir of glorified ones, in singing the song of Moses and the Lamb ; and surely I ought to learn that song on earth." To Mrs. Payson, who, while ministering to him, had observed, " Your head feels hot, and seems to be dis- tended," he replied — " It seems as if the soul disdain- ed such a narrow prison, and was determined to Ireak through with an angel's energy, and, I trust, with no small portion of an angel's feeling, until it mounts on high." Again — " It seems as if my soul had found a pair of new wings, and was so eager to try them, that in her fluttering she would rend the fine net-work of the body to pieces." EDWARD PAYSON. 481 At another time — " My dear, I should think it might encourage and strengthen you, under whatever trials you may be called to endure, to remember me. O ! you must believe that it will be great peace at last." At another time he said to her — " After I am gone, you will find many little streams of beneficence pour- ing in upon you, and you will perhaps say, ' I wish my dear husband were here to know this.' My dear, you may think that I do knoAv it by anticipation, and praise God for it now." " Hitherto I have viewed God as a fixed Star, bright indeed, but often intercepted by clouds ; but now he is coming nearer and nearer, and spreads into a Sun so vast and glorious, that the sight is too dazzling for flesh and blood to sustain." This was not a blind ado- ration of an imaginary deity ; for, added he, " I see clearly that all these same glorious and dazzling pei-- fections, which now only serve to kindle my affections into a flame, and to melt down my soul into the same blessed image, would burn and scorch me like a con- suming fire, if I were an impenitent sinner." He said he felt no solicitude respecting his family ; he could trust them all in the hands of Christ. To feel any undue solicitude on their account, or to be unwill- ing to leave them with God, would be like " a child who was reluctant to go to school, lest his father should burn up his toys and play-things while he was absent." Conversing with a friend on his preparation for his departure, he compared himself to " a person who had been visiting his friends, and was about to return home. His trunk was packed, and every thing pre- M. P. 41 482 MEMOIR or pared, and he was looking out of the window, waiting for tlie stage to take him in." When speaking of the sufferings he endured, parti- cularly the sensation of burning in his side and left leg, he said that if he expected to live long enough to make it worth while, he would have his leg taken off. On Mrs. Payson's uttering some expression of sur- prise, he replied — " I have not a very slight idea of the pain of amputation ; yet I have no doubt that I suffer more every fifteen minutes than I should in having my leg taken off." His youngest child, about a year old, hai been un- der the care of a friend, and was to be removed a few miles out of town ; but he expressed so strong a wish to see Charles fiirst, that he was sent for. The look of love, and tenderness, and compassion with which he regarded the child, made an indelible impression on all present. At his request some of the choir belonging to the con- gregation came a few days before his death, for the purpose of singing, for his gratification, some of the songs of Zion. He selected the one commencing, " Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings ;" part of the hymn, " I'll praise my Maker with my breath ;" and the " Dying Christian to his Soul." Sabbath day, October 21, 1827, his last agony com- menced. This holy man, who had habitually said of his racking pains, " These are God's arrows, but they are all sharpened with love" — and who in the extre- mity of suffering had been accustomed to repeat, as a favorite expression, " I will bless the Lord at all times'''' — had yet the " dying strife" to encounter. It commenced with the same diflSiculty of respiration, EDWARD PAYSON. 483 though in an aggravated degree, which had caused him great distress at intervals during his sickness. His daughter, who had gone to the Sabbath school without any apprehensions of so sudden a change, was called home. Though laboring for breath, and with a rattling in the throat similar to that which immediate- ly precedes dissolution, he smiled upon hex, kissed her alfectionately, and said — " God bless you, my daugh- ter !" Several of the church were soon collected at his bedside ; he smiled on them all, but said little, as his power of utterance had nearly failed. Once he ex- claimed, " Peace ! peace ! Victory ! victory !" He looked on his wife and children, and said, almost in the words of dying Joseph to his brethren — words which he had before spoken of as having a peculiar sweetness, and which he now wished to recall to her mind — '' I am going, but God will surely be with you." His friends watched him, expecting every moment to see him expire, till near noon, v/hen his distress par- tially left him; and he said to the physician, who was feeling his pulse, that he found he was not to be re- leased yet; and though he had suffered the pangs of death, and got almost within the gates of Paradise — yet, if it was God's will that he should come back and suffer still more, he was resigned. He passed through a similar scene m the afternoon, and, to the surprise of every one, was again relieved. The night follow- ing he suffered less than he had the two preceding. Friday night had been one of inexpressible suffering. That and the last night of his pilgrimage were the only nights in which he had watchers. The friend who attended him through his last night, read to hira, at his request, the twelfth chapter of the second Epis- 484 MEMOIR OF tie to the Corinthians ; parts of which must have been peculiarly applicable to his case. On Monday morning his dying agonies returned in all their extremity. For three hours every breath was a groan. On being asked if his sufferings were greater than on the preceding Friday night, he ansAvered, " In- comparably greater." He said that the greatest tem- poral blessing of which he could conceive would be one breath of air. Mrs. Payson fearing, from the ex- pression of suffering in his countenance, that he Avas in mental as well as bodily anguish, questioned him on the subject. With extreme difficulty he was ena- bled to articulate the words, " Faith and patience hold out." About mid-day the pain of respiration abated, and a partial stupor succeeded. Still, however, he con tinned intelligent, and evidently able to recognise all who were present. His eyes spoke after his tongue be- came motionless. He looked on Mrs. Payson, and then his eye, glancing over the others who surrounded his bed, rested on Edward, his eldest son, with an expres- sion which said — and which was interpreted by all present to say. as plainly as if he had uttered the words of the beloved disciple — " Behold thy mother !" There was no visible indication of the return of his suffer- ings. He gradually sunk away, till about the going down of the sun, when his happy spirit was set at liberty. His " ruling passion was strong in death." His love for preaching was as invincible as that of the miser for gold, who dies grasping his treasure. Dr. Payson directed a label to be attached to his breast, on which should be written — " Remember the words which I spake unto you while I was yet present with EDWARD PAYSON. 480 you ; that they might be read by all who came to look at his corpse, and by which he, being dead, still spake. The same Avords. at the request of his people, were engraven on the plare of the coffin, and read by thou- sands on the day of interment. His funeral sermon was preached by the Rev. Charles Jenkins, (who was soon to follow him,) from 2 Tim. 4 : 6 — 8. " / am now ready to he offered^ and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a goodfght, I have finished my course^ I have kept the faith : henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, therighteous Jitdge, shall give me at that day ; and not to one only, but unto all them also that love his appearing?'' "BEHOLD THY MOTHER!" The scene at the death-bed of Dr. Payson, de- scribed on the preceding page, has been happily ex- panded in the following beautiful lines from the pen of Mrs. Sigourney. What said the eye? — The marble lip spake not, Save in that quivering sob with which stern Death Doth crush life's harp-strings. — Loi again it pours A tide of more t'oan utter'd eloquence — "Son! — look upon thy mother!" — and retires Beneath the curtain of the drooping lids, To hide itself for ever. Tis the last, Last glance! — and mark how tenderly it fell, M. P. 41* 486 MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. Upon that lov'd companion, and the groups That wept around. — Full well the dying knew The value of those holy charities Which purge the dross of selfishness away; And deep he felt that woman's trusting heart, Rent from the cherish'd prop, which, next to Christ» Had been her stay in all adversities, Would take the balm-cup best from that dear hand Which woke the sources of maternal love- That smile, whose winning paid for sleepless nightf Of cradle-care— that voice, whose murraur'd tones Her own had moulded to the words of prayer ! How soothing to a widow'd mother's breast Her first-born's sympathy ! Be strong, young man ! Lift the protector's arm — the healer's prayer! Be tender in thy every word and deed. A Spirit watcheth thee !— Yes, he who pass'd From shaded earth up to the full-orb'd day, Will be thy witness in the court of heaven How thou dost bear his mantle. So farewell, Leader in Israel !— Thou whose radiant path Was like the angel's standing in the sun,* Undazzled and unswerving— it was meet That thou shouldst rise to light without a dond. * Revelation, 19:17. THE END.