Chapters 14
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1 00 - Preface 4:35
Preface 2. The Life of David Brainerd Preface The religious public are already acquainted with a very copious Life of David Brainerd, written by the late President Edwards, and with an abridgment of that performance by the founder of Methodism, the Rev. John Wesley. It will therefore be expected that I should give some account of the following work, and assign the reasons which induced me to undertake it. The life by Edwards has been supposed to contain much unimportant and exuberant matter and a too frequent recurrence of the same things. This arose, no doubt, from the worthy authors not using sufficiently the pruning knife while preparing the private diary of Mr. Brainerd for the press. As the work is now becoming scarce, a republication was at first proposed.
But a learned and excellent friend, in whose judgment I have implicit confidence, suggested that to rewrite the life, and judiciously to select from the original volume the most important and interesting portions of the diary and journal, would be conferring upon the public a real benefit, as it would greatly reduce the book both in size and price, without at all diminishing its intrinsic worth. This task I was requested to undertake, and I engaged in it the more readily, as I hoped by cultivating a close intimacy with the spirit of this exemplary missionary, I might greatly improve my own. At this time I was not acquainted with Mr. Wesley's abridgment, which therefore I thought it necessary to peruse, that I might avoid engaging in a needless labor.
By this perusal, I was rather induced to proceed in my undertaking, then influenced to lay it aside, and whatever imperfections may mark the present volume, I can venture to declare that it is the faithful record of Brainerd's principles, conduct, and experience as a Christian and a missionary. For the materials I am indebted to President Edwards, and for the extracts in their abridged form, after I had compared them with the original, I have to express my obligations to Mr. Wesley. Frequently I have indulged myself in reflection and remark. This perhaps may relieve and enliven the uniformity of narrative. I have taken pains to render the whole interesting and useful, and I trust that the volume will prove an acceptable addition to the devotional library of younger Christians and students for the ministry.
If anything will quicken diligence, animate zeal, and spiritualize the affections, the diary and journal of Mr. Brainerd will not fail of success. His early departure from the field of labor is an affecting consideration and may teach the ministers of Christ the importance of doing immediately whatsoever their hands find to do. We may have but little time to live, and we have much to perform. Souls are perishing, every moment they are rushing in multitudes to that world, quote, where there is no reviving spirit and where the blood of Christ has no efficacy, end quote. The remarks of President Edwards at the close of his narrative form so valuable a portion of his work that I could not persuade myself to close this volume without subjoining them, somewhat abridged as an appendix.
His observations on the witness of the Spirit should, in this age of antinomian delusion, be seriously read and deeply considered by Christians of all denominations, and that class in the religious world who think themselves at the farthest possible remove from the immoral influence of antinomian heresy Would do well to examine how farther notions of distinct and immediate testimony have the same tendency with the principles of those whose spirit and conduct they so justly abhor. The sentiments of President Edwards on this subject are the sentiments of all rational and consistent Calvinists, and if ever the preachers of this denomination in the Christian Church abandon these views of the nature of divine operations upon the mind, they will throw wide open the floodgates of fanaticism and licentiousness.
J.S. West Coast, Isle of Wight. End of preface.
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2 01 - Chapter I 20:59
His birth, his early concern about religion, the peculiar exercises of his mind, his desire to become a student for the ministry. Various are the methods which wise and good men have employed in defense of Christianity. The infidel has been assailed by a body of evidence, which nothing but determined hostility to the Christian cause could enable him to resist. One champion has chosen this weapon, another has preferred that. Each has been excellent of its kind, and with respect to its particular object, has vanquished the ignorance of foolish men. But the vital influence of divine principles on the heart and life of a real Christian is, with me, an argument of matchless power. Which defends not a fact or individual circumstance only, but which is an adamantine's shield to the entire.
It protects not merely a single entrance. It renders on every side the Citadel secure. In this view, the life of David Brainerd, the missionary of the cross, has always appeared to me to contain the most luminous proofs of the divine reality and incalculable worth of the gospel of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. This distinguished man, an apostle in labors and in infirmities, was a descendant of pious and respectable parents. He was born at Haddam in Connecticut, one of the American colonies, on April 20, 1718. From his earliest youth he was remarkably serious and thoughtful. His natural constitution was tinctured with melancholy, which, notwithstanding the power and influence of Christianity in his heart, often embittered his life and covered his mind with a veil of doubt and gloom.
Against this natural infirmity he had to struggle to his dying day. And when this is considered, his abundant labors, indefatigable application, and ardent zeal are indeed surprising. They forcibly illustrate the truth of the divine promise, quote, My strength is made perfect in weakness, end quote. It does not appear that this excellent man was, by his parents, designed for the work of the ministry. The pursuit of husbandry occupied his attention, and he labored with his hands for one year upon his own farm at Durham. But the employment of a farmer was not congenial with his disposition. His mind thirsted for intellectual improvement, and at the age of twenty he commenced a life of study, attending at the same time with the greatest punctuality to the duties of religion, in the performance of which he thought a minister, and a candidate for the ministerial office, should be remarkably strict.
And it were to be wished that all who assumed the sacred character felt thus concerned to maintain its real dignity. Perhaps no person ever presented a more striking instance of the subtlety and influence of a self-righteous spirit, and the bondage and misery into which it brings the soul, than David Brainerd. Numerous and painful were his struggles with this adversary. This was the canker worm at the root of all his religion, and long did he retain, quote, a secret latent hope of recommending himself to God by his religious duties. It was no easy thing to sweep away this refuge of lies. His heart clung to it till he had been nearly involved in its ruins. Like a drowning creature, yet disdaining to accept any offer of assistance, he made every effort to reach the shore in his own strength, and it was not until he was, wearied in the greatness of his way, till he was End quote.
The account which he has himself given of the manner in which he was brought to acquiescence with all his heart in the gospel method of salvation and the mental difficulties with which he struggled previous to this is striking and affecting. I was, I think, from my youth something sober and inclined to melancholy, but do not remember any conviction of sin worthy of remark until I was seven or eight years of age, when I grew terrified at the thoughts of death and was driven to the performance of duties. This religious concern was short-lived. However, I sometimes attended secret prayer and thus lived at ease in Zion, though without God in the world, till I was above thirteen years of age. But in the winter, 1732, I was something roused by the prevailing of a mortal sickness in Hadam.
I was frequent, constant, and something fervent, in duties, and took delight in reading, especially Mr. Janeway's token for children. I was sometimes much melted in duties and took great delight in the performance of them. The Spirit of God at this time proceeded far with me. I was remarkably dead to the world, and my thoughts were almost wholly employed about my soul's concerns. I may indeed say, almost I was persuaded to be a Christian. I was also exceedingly distressed at the death of my mother in March 1732. But afterwards my religious concern declined, and I, by degrees, fell back into security, though I still attended to secret prayer. About the 15th of April, 1733, I removed from my father's house to East Haddam, where I spent four years.
Here I went in a round of secret duty. I was not much addicted to young company, but when I did go into it, I never returned with so good a conscience as I went. It always added new guilt to me and made me afraid to come to the throne of grace. About the latter end of April 1737, being full 19, I removed to Durham and began to work on my farm and so continued till I was 20 years old, though frequently longing after a liberal education. When I was about 20, I applied myself to study and was engaged more than ever in the duties of religion. I became very watchful over my thoughts. Some time in April 1738, I went to Mr. Fiske's and lived with him during his life, and I remember he advised me wholly to abandon young company and associate myself with grave elderly people, which counsel I followed, and my manner of life was now exceeding regular.
I read my Bible more than twice through in less than a year. I spent much time every day in secret prayer and other secret duties. I gave great attention to the word preached and endeavored to my utmost to retain it. So much concerned was I about religion that I agreed with some young persons to meet privately on Sabbath evenings for religious exercises. And after our meeting was ended, I used to repeat the discourses of the day to myself and recollect that I could, though sometimes it was late in the night. Again on Monday mornings I used sometimes to recollect the same sermons, and I had sometimes considerable movings of affections in duties and much pleasure therein. After Mr. Fisk's death, I proceeded in my learning with my brother and was still very constant in religious duties.
Thus I proceeded on a self-righteous foundation, and should still, had not the mere mercy of God prevented. Sometime in the beginning of winter, 1738, it pleased God on one Sabbath day morning, as I was walking out for some secret duties, to give me on a sudden such a sense of my danger and the wrath of God that I stood amazed and was much distressed all that day, fearing the vengeance of God would soon overtake me. I kept much alone, and sometimes grudged the birds and beasts their happiness, because they were not exposed to eternal misery, as I saw I was. And thus I lived, from day to day, in great distress. Sometimes there appeared mountains before me to obstruct my hopes of mercy. But I used, however, to pray and cry to God, and perform other duties with great earnestness.
Sometime in February 1738-9, I set apart a day for secret fasting and prayer, and spent the day in almost incessant cries to God for mercy, that He would open my eyes to see the evil of sin and the way of life by Jesus Christ. And God was pleased that day to make considerable discoveries of my heart to me, and to make my endeavors a means to show me my helplessness in some measure. I constantly strove after whatever qualifications I imagined others obtained before the reception of Christ. Sometimes I felt the power of a hard heart, and supposed it must be softened before Christ would accept of me. And when I felt any meltings of heart, I hoped now the work was almost done. And hence, when my distress still remained, I was wont to murmur at God's dealings with me, and thought, when others felt their hearts softened, God showed them mercy.
But my distress remained still. Sometimes I grew remiss and sluggish without any great convictions of sin for a considerable time together. But after such a season, convictions seized me more violently. One night in particular, when I was walking solitarily abroad, I had such a view of my sin that I feared the ground would cleave asunder and send my soul quick into hell. And though I was forced to go to bed, lest my distress should be discovered by others, which I much feared. Yet I scarce durst sleep at all, for I thought it would be a great wonder if I should be out of hell in the morning. But though my distress was thus great, yet I dreaded the loss of convictions and returning back to a state of security, and to my former insensibility of impending wrath, which made me exceedingly exact in my behavior, lest I should stifle the motions of God's Spirit.
The many disappointments of distresses I met with put me into a most horrible frame of contesting with the Almighty, with an inward vehemence, finding fault with His ways of dealing with mankind. I found great fault with the imputation of Adam's sin to his posterity, and my wicked heart often wished for some other way of salvation than by Jesus Christ. I wished sometimes there was no God, or that there were some other God that could control him. These thoughts were frequently acted before I was aware, but when I considered this, it distressed me to think that my heart was so full of enmity against God, and it made me tremble lest God's vengeance should suddenly fall upon me. I used before to imagine my heart was not so bad as the Scriptures represented.
Sometimes I used to take much pains to work it into a humble, submissive disposition, but on a sudden the thoughts of the strictness of the law Or the sovereignty of God would so irritate the corruptions of my heart that it would break over all bounds and burst forth on all sides, like floods of waters when they break down their dam. While I was in this distressed state of mind, the corruption of my heart was especially irritated with these things following. One. The strictness of the divine law. For I found it was impossible for me, after my utmost pains, to answer the demands of it. I often made resolutions, and as often broke them. I imputed the whole to want of being more watchful, and used to call myself a fool for my negligence.
But when, upon a stronger resolution and greater endeavors, fasting and prayer, I found all attempts fail, then I quarreled with the law of God as unreasonably rigid. I thought, if it extended only to my outward actions I could bear with it, but I found it condemned me for the sins of my heart. I was extremely loath to give out, and own my own utter helplessness, but after repeated disappointments, though that, rather than perish, I could do a little more still, especially if such and such circumstances might but attend my endeavors. I hoped that I should strive more earnestly than ever, and this hope of future more favorable circumstances, and of doing something hereafter, kept me from utter despair of myself, and from seeing myself fallen in the hands of God, and dependent on nothing but boundless grace.
Two. Another thing was that faith alone was the condition Footnote. The word condition is very alarming to the minds of some good people, but all that Mr. Brainerd meant by it, and many others who use it, is that there is no salvation without faith. And footnote. Of salvation. And that God would not come down to lower terms. That He would not promise life and salvation upon my sincere prayers and endeavors. That word, Mark 16, verse 16. He that believeth shall not be damned, cut off all hope there. And I found faith was the gift of God, that I could not get it of myself, and could not oblige God to bestow it upon me by any of my performances. Ephesians 2, verses 1 and 8. This, I was ready to say, is a hard saying, who can bear it?
I could not bear that all I had done should stand for mere nothing, who had been very conscientious in duty, and had been exceedingly religious a great while, and had, as I thought, done much more than many others that had obtained mercy. I confessed indeed the vileness of my duties, but then what made them at that time seem vile was my wandering thoughts in them. Not because I was all over defiled and the principle corrupt from whence they flowed, so that I could not possibly do anything that was good. And therefore I called what I did by the name of faithful endeavors, and could not bear it, that God had made no promises of salvation to them. 3. Another thing was that I could not find out how to come to Christ.
I read the calls of Christ, made to the weary and heavy laden, but could find no way that He directed them to come in. I thought I would gladly come if I knew how, though the path of duty directed to was never so difficult. Mr. Stoddard's Guide to Christ did not tell me anything I could do that would bring me to Christ, but left me, as it were, with a great gulf between me and Christ, without any direction to get through. For I was not yet experimentally taught that there could be no way prescribed, whereby a natural man could, of his own strength, obtain that which is supernatural and which the highest angel cannot give. All this time the Spirit of God was powerfully at work with me, and I was inwardly pressed to relinquish all self-confidence, all hopes of ever helping myself by any means whatsoever, and the conviction of my lost estate was sometimes so clear.
That it was as if it had been declared to me in so many words, It is done. It is forever impossible to deliver yourself. For about three or four days my soul was thus distressed, especially at some turns, when, for a few moments, I seemed to myself lost and undone, but then would shrink back immediately from the sight, because I dared not venture myself into the hands of God as wholly helpless. I dared not see that important truth, that I was dead in trespasses and sins. But when I had thrust away these views of myself at any time, I was distressed to have the same discoveries again, for I greatly feared being given over of God to final stupidity. When I thought of putting it off to a more convenient season, the conviction was so powerful with regard to the present time, that it was the best time, and probably the only time that I dared not to put it off.
Yet my soul shrunk away from it. I could see no safety in throwing myself into the hands of God, and that I could lay no claim to anything better than damnation. But after a considerable time spent in such distresses, one morning while I was walking in a solitary place as usual, I at once saw that all my contrivances to procure salvation for myself were utterly in vain. I was brought quite to a stand as finding myself totally lost. I had thought many times that the difficulties were very great, but now I saw them in a very different light, that it was forever impossible for me to do anything towards delivering myself. I then thought of blaming myself, that I had not done more while I had an opportunity, for it seemed now as if the season of doing was forever over and gone.
But I instantly saw that let me have done what I would, it would no more have tended to my helping myself than what I had done. That I had made all the pleas I ever could have made to all eternity, and that all my pleas were in vain. The tumult that had been before in my mind was now quieted, and I was something eased of that distress, which I felt while struggling against a sight of myself. I had the greatest certainty that my state was forever miserable for all that I could do, and was almost astonished that I had never been sensible of it before. In the time while I remained in this state, my notions respecting my duties were quite different from what I had entertained in times past. Now I saw there was no necessary connection between my prayers and the Divine Mercy, that they laid not the least obligation upon God to bestow His grace upon me, and that there was no more goodness in them than there would be in my paddling in the water, which was the comparison I had then in my mind.
And this because they were not performed from any love to God. I saw that I had heaped up my devotions before God, fasting, praying, etc., really thinking I was aiming at the glory of God, whereas I never once truly intended it. I continued in this state of mind from Friday morning till the Sabbath evening following. July 12, 1739, when I was walking again in the same solitary place and attempting to pray, but found no heart to engage in that or any other duty. Having been thus endeavoring to pray for near half an hour, and by this time the sun was about half an hour high, as I was walking in a dark, thick grove, unspeakable glory seemed to open to the view of my soul. I do not mean any external brightness, nor any imagination of a body of light or anything of that nature, but it was a new inward apprehension or view that I had of God, such as I never had before.
I stood still and admired. I knew that I had never seen before anything comparable to it for excellency and beauty. It was widely different from all the conceptions that ever I had of God or things divine. I had no particular apprehension of any one person in the Trinity, either the Father, the Son, or the Holy Ghost. But it appeared to be divine glory that I then beheld, and my soul rejoiced with joy unspeakable to see such a glorious divine being. And I was inwardly pleased and satisfied that he should be God over all forever and ever. My soul was so captivated and delighted with the excellency, loveliness, greatness, and other perfections of God, that I was even swallowed up in Him to that degree, that at first I scarce reflected there was such a creature as myself.
Thus God, I trust, brought me to a hearty disposition to exalt Him, and set Him upon the throne, and ultimately to aim at His honor and glory as King of the universe. I continued in this state until near dark without any sensible abatement, and then began to think what I had seen, and was sweetly composed all the evening following. I felt myself in a new world, and everything about me appeared with a different aspect from what it was wont to do. At this time the way of salvation opened to me with such infinite wisdom, suitableness, and excellency that I wondered I should ever think of any other way of salvation. I wondered that the whole world did not see and comply with this way of salvation, entirely by the righteousness of Christ.
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3 02 - Chapter II 19:12
His going to college. The state of college at that time. The revival there. Religious zeal. The danger of a zeal not according to knowledge. Brainerd's case. The painful result. The rector and superiors of Yale College. Dangerous to offend some men, an unforgiving spirit, the use which a real Christian will make of persecution and hatred. The most essential qualification for ministerial office is personal religion, and it is justly expected from the man of God that he should be eminently holy. A graceless minister is the most shocking character in the world. And a minister whose religion is doubtful, whose spirit and conduct demand every allowance which the most liberal Christian charity is disposed to make, will never be extensively useful or exceedingly happy.
Those ministers who have been, quote, burning and shining lights, end quote, in the world, have been men taught of God who have seen in their hearts, as in a glass, the dreadful depravity of human nature. They have been led through the deep waters, and their souls have been exercised with severe spiritual trials. An attentive observer will easily perceive in the preceding account, which Mr. Brainard has written, of the painful exercises of his mind, and the manner in which he was led to embrace the Savior. That the Lord was preparing him for great usefulness, and that he was designated by the head of the church to preach the gospel to the poor, to heal the broken in heart, and to open the prison to them that are bound.
That this was to be his delightful employment, he was himself convinced, and in the beginning of September 1739, when he was a little more than twenty-one years of age, he entered himself as a graduate at Yale College in New Haven. Previous to this, as his diary just quoted informs us, he had spent some time with Mr. Fisk, his pastor and friend, and after his death with his brother, and was thus, in some measure, prepared for the studious employment of a college life. But how different is the situation upon which our young friend now entered from that which he recently left? Yale College, when it was honored with Brainerd as a student, was certainly not very eminent for the personal religion of its sons.
Indeed, constituted as most colleges are, in which personal experimental religion is not the, quote, sine qua non, end quote, of admission, they must sometimes reckon among their members the gay and the fashionable, the thoughtless and the vain. And when there is not religious principle to restrain from vice, the natural propensities of the human heart will, in spite of legal strictness and discipline, sometimes be gratified, and the contagious breath of iniquity sometimes inhaled. At his first going to college, and during his residence there, the righteous soul of Brainerd was grieved. And perhaps the folly he was daily witnessing around him had no small share in depressing his animal spirits and feeding the melancholy which too often preyed upon his mind.
Surrounded as he was by these temptations, however, he caught none of their influence. In this unfavorable situation, he was enabled to maintain the life of religion in his own soul, and his holy deportment had a tendency to suppress levity and sin in his fellow students. Happy the man who thus lives and acts while at a university college or a dissenting academy. He prevents a thousand stings of conscience, and his future ministry is not clogged, nor his life embittered by the sigh of painful recollection. Let students in general compare their college diary with Brainerd's and be humbled. In January 1739-40, the measles spread much in college. And I, having taken the distemper, went home to Haddam.
But some days before I was taken sick, my soul mourned the absence of the Comforter. It seemed to me all comfort was gone. I cried to God, yet found no relief. But a night or two before I was taken ill, while I was walking alone and engaged in meditation and prayer, I enjoyed a sweet, refreshing visit from above, so that my soul was raised far above the fear of death. Oh, how much more refreshing this one season was than all the pleasures that earth can afford. After a day or two, I was taken with the measles and almost despaired of life, but had no distressing fears of death. However, I soon recovered, yet by reason of hard studies, I had little time for spiritual duties. My soul often mourned for want of more time and opportunity to be alone with God.
In the spring and summer following, I had better advantages for retirement and enjoyed more comfort. Though indeed my ambition in my studies greatly wronged the vigor of my spiritual life, yet, in the multitude of my thoughts within me, God's comforts delighted my soul. One day in particular, in June 1740, I walked in the fields alone. And found such unspeakable sweetness in God that I thought, if I must continue still in this evil world, I wanted always to be there to behold God's glory. My soul dearly loved all mankind and longed exceedingly that they should enjoy what I enjoyed. It seemed to be a little resemblance of heaven. In August following, I became so disordered by too close application to my studies that I was advised by my tutor to go home.
And disengaged my mind from study as much as I could, for I began to spit blood. I took his advice, but being brought very low, I looked death in the face more steadfastly. The Lord was pleased to give me a sweet relish of divine things, and my soul took delight in the blessed God. Saturday, October 18th. In my morning devotions, my soul was exceedingly melted for, and bitterly mourned over, my exceeding sinfulness and vileness. I never before felt so deep a sense of the odious nature of sin. My soul was then unusually carried forth in love to God, and had a lively sense of God's love to me. And this love and hope cast out fear. October 19th. In the morning, I felt my soul hungering and thirsting after righteousness.
In the forenoon, while I was looking on the sacramental elements and thinking that Jesus Christ would soon be set forth crucified before me, my soul was filled with light and love, so that I was almost in an ecstasy. My body was so weak I could hardly stand. I felt at the same time an exceeding tenderness and most fervent love towards all mankind, so that my soul and all the powers of it seemed, as it were, to melt into softness and sweetness. This love and joy cast out fear, and my soul longed for perfect grace and glory. Tuesday, October 31st. I had likewise experience of the goodness of God in shedding abroad His love in my heart, and all the remaining part of the week my soul was taken up with divine things.
I now so longed after God and to be freed from sin, that when I felt myself recovering and thought I must return to college again, which had proved so hurtful to me the year past, I could not but be grieved, and I thought I had much rather have died. But before I went, I enjoyed several other sweet and precious seasons of communion with God, wherein my soul enjoyed unspeakable comfort. I returned to the college about November 6th, and through the goodness of God felt the power of religion almost daily. November 28th. I enjoyed precious discoveries of God and was unspeakably refreshed with that passage, Hebrews 7, verses 22, 23, 24, so that my soul longed to wing away for the paradise of God. I longed to be conformed to God in all things.
Tuesday, December 9th. God was pleased wonderfully to assist and strengthen me, so that I thought nothing should ever move me from the love of God in Christ Jesus my Lord. Oh, one hour with God infinitely exceeds all the pleasures of this lower world. Let it not be supposed, while this heavenly young man was cherishing in his bosom the ardent flame of divine love, that he was a negligent student of literature and theology. No. While he was superior to all in personal religion, he yielded to none in his ardor after literary and invaluable attainments. Indeed, he mourns over, quote, ambition in his studies as his most easily besetting sin, end quote. And this is never the sin of the negligent or the idle.
It is the fault of an active mind, which from its natural temperature indulges to excess in a laudable pursuit. Too strong an attachment, even to the sciences and literature, may prove injurious to the growth of vital holiness. But the indolent and trifling are in no danger from this quarter. Yet if Brainerd erred, it was in this, for he complains that he grew more cold and dull in matters of religion by means of this, which he calls his, quote, old temptation, end quote. Thus it is evident that while his religion was cultivated, the great business of his studies was not neglected. It is a great blessing when the, quote, Metron Ariston, end quote, the golden mean, can be preserved, but in everything there is a danger.
Quote, hold thou me up, and I shall be safe, end quote, should be the prayer of every Christian, and especially of every minister. About this period, the light which had shone with so much brightness in the British churches darted its rays across the vast Atlantic, and gladdened with its genial influence the American colonies. Whitefield, who was for no country but a world, who pitied the miserable of every clime and felt divine compassion for the whole family of man, whose capacious soul, filled with the Redeemer's love, traversed in idea every religion of the earth, and which actually accomplished more than the most sanguine imagination could suppose it was in the power of humanity to grasp.
Whitefield, the glory of the Church in modern times, rushed with eagerness, impelled by celestial zeal, to disperse the gloom and moral darkness which covered America. The plaintive call of ministry, quote, come over and help us, end quote, thrilled through his heart. He obeyed the summons. America, thou canst tell with what success. With other places visited by this astonishing man, Yale College and New Haven can witness the amazing power and efficacy of the word of truth uttered by him. As an instrument in the divine hand, he inspired new life into the students, who were growing dull and lukewarm, and awakened and roused others who never felt before. The labors of this eminent servant of God with those of another who had imbibed his spirit.
Mr. Tennant, carried on, for it was before partially begun what is called in America to this day, quote, the revival, end quote. A general reformation, a deep seriousness, pervaded the various ranks of society. Yale College now presented a new and different scene, and there was an almost universal inquiry among the heretofore careless and indifferent, quote, what must we do to be saved, end quote. Oh, with what delight and with what earnestness did Brainerd visit his fellow students! How sweetly and solemnly did he help forward by conversation and prayer the work of God! Dr. Hopkins, who was at college with him, has left a testimony of his zeal and brotherly kindness in the memoirs of his own life, extracts from which were published in the Evangelical magazine for May, 1806.
Quote, the persons who thus distinguished themselves in zeal, that is, in visiting the students for conversation and prayer, were two of them my classmates, Buells and Youngs. The other was David Brainerd. End quote. We are now drawing near an important era in Brainerd's history, and we are about to transcribe a page upon which, in the course of his life, he frequently dropped the silent tear of sorrow and bitter regret. But a page which his unfeeling persecutors must have read with the blush of conscious shame. It is the page which narrates his expulsion from college and the cause which produced it. We must not be surprised if, on closely investigating the best human character, the delightful vision be sometimes crossed with a cloud or the finished picture marred with a blemish.
In a young man let us not expect that knowledge of his own heart and of the world, which, if we have patience with him, He may discover in mature years. That Brainerd was eminently pious and exceedingly zealous, who will question? That his zeal sometimes carried him beyond the bounds of prudence was his misfortune, and in a great measure proceeded from the circumstances in which he was placed. It is exceedingly difficult, for young persons especially, to distinguish the wildfire of the passions from the lambent flame of that holy zeal, which is lighted at the altar of divine love. And it is not unfrequently the case that these two things, so different in their nature, are blended in the same heart.
We have reason to suspect that our zeal is adulterated with this corrupt mixture if it border on uncharitableness, if it incline us to make our frames and feelings the standard of all true experimental religion. There is more spiritual pride in this than we are at first aware. We should ever remember that the divine flame of zeal in this resembles the natural flame. The higher it rises, the more it trembles. In the general revival of religion, of which we have already spoken, some tears of a mistaken zeal grew up with the wheat, and Brainerd was not wholly free from their influence. The manner in which he displayed his imprudent ardor and its consequences are thus related by his biographer, Jonathan Edwards, whose praise is in all the Churches.
Quote, Three more of these his intimate friends were in the hall together, after Mr. Whittlesey, one of the tutors, had been to prayer there with the scholars. No other person now remaining in the hall but Mr. Brainerd and these his companions. Mr. Whittlesey, having been unusually pathetic in his prayer, one of Mr. Brainerd's friends asked him what he thought of Mr. Whittlesey. He made an answer, he has no more grace than his chair. One happening at that time, to be near the hall, overheard those words, though he heard no names mentioned, and knew not who the person was, which was thus censured. He informed a certain woman who went and informed the rector who sent for the man and examined him, and he told the rector the words that he heard Brainerd utter, and informed him who were in the room with him at the time.
Upon which the rector sent for them, they were very backward to inform against their friend of that which they looked upon as a private conversation, yet the rector compelled them to declare what he said and of whom he said it. Brainerd thought that what he said in private was injuriously extorted from his friends, and that it was injuriously required of him to make a public confession before the whole college in the hall, for what he said only in private conversation. He, not complying with this demand, and having gone once to the separate meeting at New Haven, when forbidden by the rector, and also having been accused of saying concerning the rector that he wondered he did not expect to drop down dead.
for fining the scholars who followed Mr. Tennant to Milford, though there was no proof of it. And Mr. Brainerd ever professed End quote.
The circumstances of this expulsion are peculiarly disgraceful to the college and exhibit the tutors in no very favorable point of view. A junior student, having acquired the infernal trick of tail-bearing, communicated what he had overheard in a private conversation, and the tutors, as if on the alert to seize the victim, Instantly called together the gentlemen, the particular friends of Brainerd, and wrest from them by threats the ill-fated sentence with its application, and then proceed against its author as against a, quote, thief and a robber, end quote. I pity the students who could be awed by the threats of such men to disclose the subject of a familiar conversation. Above all, I pity the meanness of these, quote, little governors, end quote, which involved them in the guilt of a transaction so dishonorable and base.
And on the above account, I would only remark that if the circumstances and exigencies of the college at that time justified the severity of the superiors, On what principles of Christian charity and kindness are we to account for their subsequent and persevering hostility to a man who sinned but once, and that in word only, and whose whole life was so blameless, so holy, that the enemies of religion, as well as its friends, pronounced him blessed? Some men are deadly in their hate and so marvelously wise that they can decide on a man's character from one or two words and actions. And though the whole tenor of his general spirit and conduct forever gives the lie to their conclusion, Their decision is like the law of the Medes and Persians, which altereth not.
For such persons to forgive an offending brother seven times would be torture little less than crucifixion. And as for the, quote, seventy times seven, end quote, it is one of the passages they would willingly blot from the Book of God. My soul, come thou not into their secret, unto their assembly mine honor be not thou united. Brainerd had infinitely the advantage of these cruel governors. From the eater he extract honey, and from their persevering opinion he learned a lesson of prudence. He was more weaned from the world, more entirely devoted to God, and his work as a missionary of Jesus. And this is the improvement which every good man will make of unfeeling persecution and hostility.
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His removal to Mr. Mills' at Ripton, the preparatory steps to his becoming a preacher, and a missionary. The life of a student is not the field in which the philosopher or the curious will range to collect observations on a human character or materials for pleasure. From a general barrenness of incidents to seize the attention and captivate the mind, it appears insipid and destitute of interest. From the month of April 1742 to the July following, Mr. Brainerd was a recluse. His examination in License to Preach and his examination by the correspondence of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge and his appointment to be their missionary were the only active scenes in which he was engaged.
These were certainly events of considerable importance to him, and he would consider the year in which they occurred as a very memorable period of his life. On his expulsion from college, he became a resident with Reverend Mr. Mills of Ripton, and under this gentleman pursued those studies which from his persecution had suffered a temporary interruption. His diary at this period discloses the heart of a missionary, and we here discover the first ardent breathings of his soul for the conversion of the heathen. From it, we also learn that an unsuccessful effort was made by his friends to restore him to college, and to reinstate him in the enjoyment of its privileges. This disappointment he must have severely felt, as he was soon to have taken his degree, and would have been the first of a very numerous class.
The spirit in which he narrates this mortifying circumstance and the state of his mind in reference to the event of his expulsion exhibit him in a very interesting point of view, and we cannot but pity the man whose soul could suffer him to be the enemy of David Brainerd. The following extracts must be interesting. Tuesday, April 6th. I cried to God to wash my soul and cleanse me from my exceeding filthiness, and I could think of undergoing the greatest sufferings with pleasure. And found myself willing, if God should so order, to suffer banishment from my native land among the heathen, that I might do something for their salvation, in distresses and deaths of any kind. Then God gave me to wrestle earnestly for others, for the kingdom of Christ in the world, and for my dear Christian friends.
I felt myself weaned from the world and from my own reputation, willing to be despised and to be gazing stock for the world. It is impossible for me to express what I then felt. I had not much joy, but a sense of the majesty of God, which made me tremble. I saw myself mean and vile, which made me more willing that God should do what He would with me. It was all infinitely reasonable. Tuesday, April 8th. I had hopes respecting the heathen. Oh, that God would bring in numbers of them to Christ! I cannot but hope I shall see that glorious day. Everything in this world seems exceeding vile and little to me. I look so myself. Monday, April 12th. This morning the Lord was pleased to lift up the light of His countenance upon me in secret prayer, and made the season very precious to my soul.
I felt myself exceeding calm and quite resigned to God, respecting my future employment, when and where He pleased. My faith lifted me above the world and removed all those mountains, that I could not look over of late. I wanted not the favor of men to lean upon, for I knew Christ's favor was infinitely better, and that it was no matter when and where. Nor how Christ should send me, nor what trials He should exercise me with, if I might be prepared for His work and will. I now found sweetly revived in my mind the wonderful discovery of infinite wisdom in all the dispensations of God towards me, which I had a little before I met with my great trial at college. Everything appeared full of the wisdom of God.
Wednesday, April 14th. My soul longed for communion with Christ and for the mortification of indwelling corruption, especially spiritual pride. Oh, there is a sweet day coming wherein the weary will be at rest. My soul has enjoyed much sweetness this day in the hopes of its speedy arrival. Thursday, April 15th. My desire is centered in God, and I found a sensible attraction of soul after Him. I long for God and a conformity to His will. In inward holiness, ten thousand times more than for anything here below. Lord's Day, April 18th. I retired early this morning into the woods for prayer and was enabled to plead with fervency for the advancement of Christ's kingdom. At night I saw myself infinitely indebted to God and had a view of my shortcomings.
It seemed to me that I had done nothing for God, and that I had lived to Him but a few hours of my life. Monday, April 19th. I set apart this day for fasting and prayer to God, for His grace, to prepare me for the work of the ministry, and in His own time to send me into His harvest. I felt a power of intercession for the advancement of the kingdom of my dear Lord, and withal a sweet resignation and even joy in the thoughts of suffering hardships, distresses, yea, death itself, and the promotion of it. In the afternoon, God was with me of a truth. Oh, it was blessed company indeed. God enabled me so to agonize in prayer that I was quite wet with sweat, though in the shade and the wind cool. My soul was drawn out very much for the world.
I grasped for multitudes of souls. I had more enlargement for sinners than for the children of God, though I felt as if I could spend my life in cries for both. I never felt such an entire weanedness from this world, and so much resigned to God in everything. O, that I may always live to and upon my blessed God! Tuesday, April 20th. This day I am twenty-four years of age. O, how much mercy have I received the year past! How often has God caused His goodness to pass before me, and how poorly have I answered the vows I made this time twelve months to be wholly the Lord's, to be forever devoted to His service. The Lord helped me to live more to His glory. This has been a sweet day to me. Blessed be God.
I think my soul was never so drawn out in intercession for others. I had a fervent wrestle with the Lord for my enemies, and I hardly ever so longed to live to God and to be altogether devoted to Him. Lord's Day, April 25th. This morning spent about two hours in secret, and was enabled, more than ordinarily, to agonize for immortal souls, though it was early in the morning and the sun scarcely shined at all. Yet my body was quite wet with sweat. Felt myself much pressed, frequently of late, to plead for the meekness and calmness of the Lamb of God. Oh, it is a sweet disposition, heartily to forgive all injuries, to wish our greatest enemies as well as we do our own souls. Blessed Jesus, may I daily be more and more conformed to Thee.
At night, was exceedingly melted with divine love, and had a sense of the blessedness of the upper world. Those words hung upon me with much sweetness. Psalm 84, verse 7, quote, They go from strength to strength, every one of them in Zion appeareth before God, end quote. Oh, the near access that God sometimes gives us in our addresses to Him! This may well be termed appearing before God. It is so indeed in the true spiritual sense. I have not had such power of intercession these many months, both for God's children and for dead sinners. I longed for the coming of my dear Lord. I longed to join the angelic hosts in praises, holy free from imperfection. Oh, the blessed moment hastens. All I want is to be more holy, more like my dear Lord.
Oh, for sanctification. My very soul pants for the complete restoration of the blessed image of my Savior, that I may be fit for the blessed enjoyments and employments of the heavenly world. Wednesday, 28th. I withdrew to my usual prayer. I was in a place of retirement in great peace and tranquility, and spent above two hours in secret. I seemed to hang wholly on my dear Lord, wholly weaned from all other dependencies. I knew not what to say to my God. But only lean on His bosom, as it were, and breathe out my desires after perfect conformity to Him in all things. Thirsting desires and insatiable longings possessed my soul after perfect holiness. God was so precious to my soul that the world, with all its enjoyments, was infinitely vile.
I had no more value for the favor of men than for pebbles. The Lord was my all, and He overruled all, which greatly delighted me. I think my faith and dependence on God scarce ever rose so high. I saw Him such a fountain of goodness that it seemed impossible I should distrust Him again or be any way anxious about anything that should happen to me. In the evening my heart seemed sweetly to melt and was humbled for indwelling corruption, and I mourned like a dove. I felt that all my unhappiness arose from my being a sinner, for with resignation I could welcome all other trials, but sin hung heavy upon me. For God discovered to me the corruption of my heart, so that I went to bed with a heavy heart because I was a sinner, though I did not in the least doubt of God's love.
Oh, that God would purge away all my dross and take away my tin! April 30th. Nothing grieves me so much as that I cannot live constantly to God's glory. I could bear any spiritual conflicts if I had but my heart all the while burning within me with love to God.
June 12th. 18th.
Considering my great unfitness for the ministry and total inability to do anything for the glory of God that way, I am set apart this day for prayer to God and found Him graciously near. Once in particular, while I was pleading for more compassion for immortal souls, my heart seemed to be opened at once and I was unable to cry with great ardency. I was distressed to think that I should offer such dead, cold services to the living God. My soul seemed to breathe after holiness and a life of constant devotedness to God. But I am almost lost sometimes in the pursuit of this blessedness and ready to sink because I continually fall short. Oh, that the Lord would help me to hold out yet a little while till the happy hour of deliverance comes.
In July, he was examined by an association of ministers, respecting his piety and learning, and received from them a license to preach the gospel of Christ. From this period we take our leave of him as a novitiate, and he now presents himself to us in the amiable and interesting character of a minister. Perhaps no man ever felt a deeper sense of the importance and awful responsibility of this office than did Brainerd. He was overwhelmed with a consideration of his own meanness and entire insufficiency. And many a time, with a soul awed and almost oppressed by the greatness of his undertaking, he ascended the pulpit with trembling steps and a palpitating heart. There was, as a minister, nothing confident, nothing of arrogance or self-gratulation from the display which he was enabled to make of his talents about David Brainerd.
He seemed to live but for one and a widely different object, the display of the divine glory in the conversion of immortal souls. Every inferior consideration was absorbed in this. He possessed, in a very superior degree, the talent of representing truth in a lively, affecting manner, and his address was solemn and impressive. This, with an unabating ardor in the great pursuit for which he lived, rendered his preaching everywhere highly acceptable and useful. His remarkable devotedness to his work, his patient perseverance through spiritual trials and difficulties of another kind, soon attracted the attention of his brethren in the ministry, and all looked forward with pleasing hope to the great benefits which, if spared, the Church of God would derive from his eminent services.
The Reverend Mr. Pemberton of New York fixed upon him, in his own mind, as a suitable person to preach the gospel to the Indians, and accordingly wrote him a pressing invitation, quote, to visit New York and consult about the Indian affairs in those parts, and to meet certain gentlemen there who were entrusted with the management of those affairs, end quote. The purport of this letter was quite in unison with the feelings of his soul. He who had so often prayed for the heathen and wept over their miserable state was a man of all others, the most likely to enter with all his heart into any plan, the object of which was to assist and evangelize them. This was the case, and after much prayer and the serious advice of Christian friends, he acceded to Mr.
Pemberton's proposal. He conferred not with flesh and blood the love of Christ constrained him. On his arrival at New York, he was introduced to the correspondence of the Society for Promoting the Knowledge of Christ in the Highlands of Scotland and in Popish and infidel parts of the world. This benevolent society, in a day when the subject of missions was generally and awfully neglected, and a missionary spirit was but little felt, stood unfriended and alone. But its object was noble. It's commission divine. The poor heathens had, in this institution, an active and a zealous friend. In the promotion of the grand design of its association, it was indefatigable, pitying the state of the American Indians, who were indeed without hope and without God in the world.
They commissioned their correspondents in America to look around them for a man of God who, with suitable qualifications, would be willing to undertake the arduous work of a missionary to wild barbarians. The providence of God directed them to Brainerd, and their first interview was highly satisfactory to them and encouraging to him, armed with self-denial and animated with a noble zeal to propagate the gospel of Jesus in those regions where its light had never shone. All who conversed with him We're fully persuaded that it was the will of God that he should go far away unto the Gentiles,
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The state of his mind previous to entering upon his great undertakings, probable reasons of his dejection and mental exercises, his destination as a missionary, his visiting the Indians at Kawanameek. The period upon which we are now entering was to Brainerd a season of deep mental affliction. Like his divine master, he must be tempted before he commences his public engagements. Brainerd was about to honor God in a remarkable manner, and Satan is determined to assail him with all the artillery of hell. It is truly affecting to turn over the pages of his diary at this awful interval. The irreligious mind may indeed consider them as the memorials of weakness, and may stigmatize religion as the cause of all the melancholy and distressing feelings which they record.
But the man who has any knowledge of the human character, and who understands the nature of true religion, will form a very different opinion. Mr. Brainerd, having resolved on becoming a missionary, immediately began to prepare himself for the arduous task, to settle his temporal affairs, to examine his own heart, to look all the difficulties he should have to encounter in the face, and to take an affectionate leave of his numerous and highly respected friends. At this time he gave a most striking proof of the disinterestedness of his motives and of his entire devotedness to the cause of God. Having a small estate bequeathed him by his father, he generously determined, imagining that money would be no assistance to him in his missionary undertaking, to educate for the ministry some young person of abilities and piety.
Such an one he found, whom he denominates a dear friend, and as long as he lived he liberally supported him at college. This insistence of generosity discloses a lovely feature of his character, but his diary at this season exhibits him struggling with the vileness of his nature, sinking under a sense of his own unworthiness, and almost ready to abandon a work for which he was ready to sacrifice the dearest temporal interest on earth. Luther was qualified for eminent usefulness by three invaluable teachers, prayer, meditation, and temptation. And in the school of these instructors, Brainerd acquired a profound knowledge of his own heart, of the loveliness, excellence, suitableness, and glory of the Redeemer, and of the subtlety, power, and malice of his worst enemy.
It was this which, no doubt, enabled him to speak to others with so much wisdom, pathos, and faithfulness, and which qualified him to be an affectionate advisor in all cases of conscience and mental affliction. He was thus a scribe well instructed, thoroughly furnished for every good word and work. A few extracts from his diary in which he relates his painful conflicts will illustrate the truth of the above remarks. Not that he was always thus dejected. He sometimes mentions spiritual enjoyment and delight, but for the most part we find him in the deep waters. Jonathan Edwards informs us that for twelve days he was extremely dejected, discouraged, and distressed, and evidently very much under the power of melancholy.
Quote, And there are, says he, from day to day, most bitter complaints of exceeding vileness, ignorance, corruption, and amazing load of guilt, unworthiness to creep on God's earth, everlasting uselessness, fitness for nothing, etc. And sometimes expressions even of horror at the thoughts of ever preaching again.
End quote. January 14th, 1742. My spiritual conflicts were unspeakably dreadful, heavier than the mountains and overflowing floods. I seemed enclosed in hell itself. I was deprived of all sense of God, even of his being, and that was my misery. This was distress, the nearest akin to the damned's torments that I ever endured. Their torment, I am sure, will consist much in a privation of God, and consequently of all good. This taught me the absolute dependence of a creature upon the Creator, for every crumb of happiness it enjoys. Oh, I feel that if there is no God, though I might live forever here and enjoy not only this, but all other worlds, I should be ten thousand times more miserable than a toad.
My soul was in such anguish I could not eat, but felt, as I supposed, a poor wretch would, that is just going to the place of execution. I was almost swallowed up with anguish when I saw the people gathering together to hear me preach. However, I went to the house of God, and found not much relief in the first prayer. But afterwards God was pleased to give me freedom and enlargement, and I spent the evening comfortably. Lord's Day, January 23rd. Scarce ever felt myself so unfit to exist as now. I saw I was not worthy of a place among the Indians where I am going. I thought I should be ashamed to look them in the face, and much more to have any respect shown me. Indeed, I felt myself banished from the earth, as if all places were too good for such a wretch as I.
I thought I should be ashamed to go among the very savages of Africa. I appeared to myself a creature fit for nothing, neither heaven nor earth. None knows but those that feel it what the soul endures that is sensibly shut out from the presence of God. Alas, it is more bitter than death. On Thursday, after a considerable time spent in prayer and Christian conversation, he rode to New London. 28. Here I found some carried away with a false zeal and bitterness. Oh, the want of a gospel temper is greatly to be lamented. I spent the evening in conversing with some about some points of conduct in both ministers and private Christians, but did not agree with them. God had not taught them with briars and thorns to be of a kind disposition towards mankind.
February 2nd. I preached my farewell sermon at the house of an aged man who had been unable to attend on the public worship for some time, and this morning spent the time in prayer almost wherever I went. Having taken leave of my friends, I set out on my journey towards the Indians, though by the way I was to spend some time at East Hampton on Long Island by the leave of the commissioners. Being accompanied by a messenger from East Hampton, we traveled to Lyme. On the road I felt an uncommon pressure of mind. I seemed to struggle hard for some pleasure here below and was loath to give up all. I saw I was throwing myself into many hardships. I thought it would be less difficult to lie down in the grave, but yet I chose to go rather than stay.
I came to Lyme that night. Lord's Day, February 13th. I was under a great degree of discouragement, knew not how it was possible for me to preach in the afternoon, was ready to give up all for gone, but God was pleased to assist me. In the evening, my heart was sweetly drawn out after God and devoted to Him. March 19th. I was distressed under a sense of my ignorance, darkness, and unworthiness, got alone, and poured out my complaint to God in the bitterness of my soul. In the afternoon, rode to Newark and had some sweetness in conversation with Mr. Burr and in praying together.
The various causes which produced this frequent recurrence of gloomy dejection and awful darkness may be traced, probably, to the influence of physical organization on the mind, remarkable views of the abominable nature of sin and of his own native depravity, and to some remains of a legal Arminian spirit. The mysterious and intimate union of soul and body is, sometimes in the present state, mutually injurious to each. If disease assail the body, if the nervous system receive a shock, it subjects the soul to anxiety and distress. And the mind, having received this influence, always turns to the dark side of every question, and according to the importance of that question, it feels disquietude.
And as religion is a subject of all others, the most important, as it involves in it an immortal interest, it is often the innocent occasion of internal misery to a soul infected with melancholy.
It is possible that the above statement of physical organization influencing the mind to indulge gloomy and almost despairing apprehensions on the subject of religion may by some readers be misconstrued, and from such misconstruction the most fatal consequences may follow. But to prevent the indulgence of error on a question of such importance, I beg leave to offer the following remarks. Some persons not at all subject to melancholy may be inclined to resolve the remorse of conscience and the fears of eternal misery which sometimes wrack their minds into the influence of this morbid affection, and thus may awfully deceive themselves. But it may be observed that this very propensity to ascribe their wretchedness to such a cause is an undoubted proof that their judgment on this point is most erroneous.
Persons really under the influence of melancholy can scarcely ever be persuaded of it. Instead of anxiously seeking relief from this or any other cheering consideration, they always pour upon the dark side. They are the last to discover their own malady. Another thing against which we should guard is endeavoring to persuade persons to whose religious character we are strangers and who perhaps are laboring under deep convictions of sin and who have never really fled to the Savior for refuge and who have therefore no consistent views of divine truth that their distress is the effect of melancholy. By conversation, a skillful minister may soon ascertain the real situation of a person's mind who applies to him for advice and instruction.
And to ascribe concern about religion, a sense of depravity and horror on account of it, to lowness of spirit, to dejection, etc., would be to imitate those, quote, blind guides, end quote, who declare that everything like seriousness of mind proceeds from such a source, and who send the diseased individual who presumes to think of heaven, hell, and eternity, to the ballroom and the theater for a cure. But this doctrine of melancholy as the cause of misery, when religion is the object of attention, is capable of another and a very dangerous abuse. A person may conclude that if distress of soul on account of religion may sometimes proceed from bodily constitution, joy and delight on the same account, may also be the effect of a different corporeal temperament.
It is very true that there is an unfounded joy which may be mistaken for genuine piety, as well as a groundless sorrow which may be unjustly ascribed to its influence. But, quote, joy and peace in believing, end quote, may soon be distinguished from the raptures of mere human passion and the fervors of unsanctified affections. And one striking distinction between the, Christian and the fanatic, with respect to enjoyment, is the former distrusts himself and is humble and diffident in proportion to his happiness, while the latter imagines himself infallibly secure, is proud and obtrusive, and bears upon him all the marks of antinomium impiety. I recommend to my readers who may desire satisfaction on this very momentous point a careful perusal of McLaurin's essay on the scripture, Doctrine of Divine Grace, published with his most admirable sermons, and which may be had of the publisher of this volume, S.T.
Armstrong, Cornhill, Boston. End footnote. I have no doubt, but the most afflictive hours in Brainerd's life are to be ascribed to morbid affection, to the body of clay gaining an ascendancy over the ethereal spirit. The most cheerful Christians, under the influence of certain corporeal maladies, have unstrung their harps and suspended them on the willows, while they have wept in the bitterness of distress. But religion lost none of its power to make them happy. It remained the same, and the rock was as safe amidst the billows as the comb. Yet while the body was diseased, they could not think so. But far would I be from insinuating that this was the only cause of Mr. Brainyard's affliction. On the contrary, I am persuaded that the remarkable views which he had of the dreadful nature of sin, and of his own deep depravity, produced those sensations of horror and self-loathing, the expressions of which no pious mind can read without a kindred feeling.
Brainerd was all over imbued with a spirit of holiness, and he judged not of sin by any other standard than divine rectitude and immaculate purity. Of these he had a more perfect idea than is commonly possessed, even by the most eminent Christians. Now how odious, how absolutely detestable must iniquity appear in the eyes of such a man! He had an angel's comprehension of the subject, but he had not an angel's purity. Unhappily, he was a sinner, and he had cultivated intensely the study of his own heart. Therefore, he felt not only abhorrence against sin, as angels feel, but this abhorrence was mingled with the bitterest regret, with the deepest conviction that his soul was blackened with crime, that he was a wretch unworthy to live, much less to preach the glorious gospel, an honor for which even Gabriel might forego the bliss and the glories of the celestial state.
In such a sorrow as this there is something sacred. It should be viewed with reverence, and if we could discover the truth of ourselves, if we could know all the sinfulness of our nature, and at the same time possess a divine principle to abhor it, we should cease to wonder at the strong language in which Brainerd expresses the intenseness of his woe. It is but the feeble utterance of a grief unutterable. But it will be asked, was there no balm for this wound? Yes, there was balm in Gilead. There was a physician who was able to bind up the broken heart. But Brainerd's soul was not so oppressed with a sense of the infinite sufficiency of the remedy as of the desperate nature of the disease. Remaining unbelief and a latent spirit of self-righteousness seemed to be clouded the glories of the gospel and denied him the comfortable assurance of a faith which believes in Christ as able and willing to save to the very uttermost all that come unto God by him.
We dishonor the Savior when we make our depravity greater than His merit and sufficiency, when we are more mortified at the discovery of unexpected sinfulness in our nature than rejoiced at the thought that His precious blood cleanseth from all sin. These observations I have here introduced because I think they are suggested by this part of our narrative, and because I imagine they are of a useful tendency. Having presented my readers with the dark side of the picture, I will now furnish them with a few extracts of a more lively and happy cast, and which will prove that Brainerd, though often dejected, was not always comfortless. February 15th. Early in the day I felt some comfort. Afterwards I walked into a neighboring grove and felt more as a stranger on earth than ever before, dead to all the enjoyments of the world as if I had been dead in a natural sense.
In the evening I had sweetness in secret duty. God was then my portion, and my soul rose above those deep waters into which I have sunk so low of late. Seventeenth. I preached at a little village belonging to East Hampton, and God was pleased to give me His gracious presence and assistance, so that I spoke with freedom, boldness, and power. In the evening I spent some time with a dear Christian friend, felt as on the brink of eternity. My soul enjoyed sweetness and lively apprehensions of standing before the glorious God, prayed with my dear friend, and discoursed with the utmost solemnity. And truly it was a little emblem of heaven itself. I find my soul is more refined and weaned from a dependence on my frames and spiritual feelings.
Eighteenth. Most of the day I found access to the throne of grace. Blessed be the Lord for any intervals of heavenly delight and composure, while I am engaged in the field of battle. Oh, that I might be serious, solemn, and always vigilant while in an evil world. March 7th. This morning when I arose, I found my heart go forth after God in longing desires of conformity to Him, and in secret prayer found myself sweetly quickened and drawn out in praises to God for all He had done for me. And for all my inward trials and distresses, my heart ascribed glory, glory, glory, to the blessed God, and bid welcome to all inward distress again, if God saw meat to exercise me with it. Time appeared but an inch long and eternity at hand, and I thought I could with patience and cheerfulness bear anything for the cause of God.
For I saw that a moment would bring me to a world of peace and peace. Lord's Day, March 13th. At noon, thought it impossible for me to preach by reason of bodily weakness and inward deadness. In the first prayer, I was so weak that I could hardly stand. But in sermon, God strengthened me so that I spoke near an hour and a half with freedom, clearness, and tender power. From Genesis 5, verse 24, quote, Enoch walked with God, end quote. I was enabled to insist on a close walk with God and to leave this as my parting advice to God's people here, that they should walk with God. May the God of all grace succeed my poor labors in this place. At the time to which the whole of the preceding part of this chapter refers, Mr.
Brainerd was chiefly engaged in traveling from place to place, visiting his friends and bidding them adieu, previous to his departure, as he imagined, to the Forks of Delaware. For this was intended to have been the first field of his labors. But from information which the correspondence of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge had received of the unsettled state of the Indians there, and also of the hopeful prospect of success that a missionary might have among the Indians of Connemique, it was resolved that this last should be the place of Mr. Brainard's destination. Connemique is in the province of New York and situated in the woods between Stockbridge and Albany, and thither, on Tuesday, the 22nd of March in the year 1743, and nearly at the age of 25, he directed his steps.
On Thursday, the 31st of March, he arrived at Mr. Sargent's of Stockbridge. He was dejected and very disconsolate through the greater part of his journey. His mind was, no doubt, deeply impressed with a sense of the greatness of his undertaking, and his body fatigued by journeying, which in some degree accounts for his gloom and melancholy.
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The arduous nature of a missionary's work, Mr. Brainerd's residence with the Indians, his method of instructing them, the state of his mind, his success, his ordination. The following observations of Mr. Robinson on the disinterested conduct of Sorin in devoting his talents and labors to his exiled countrymen at The Hague apply with considerable force to those who become voluntary exiles in barbarous climes, that they may preach among the heathen the unsearchable riches of Christ.
To dedicate oneself to the ministry in a wealthy, flourishing church where rich benefices are every day becoming vacant, Requires very little virtue, and sometimes only a strong propensity to vice. But to choose to be a minister in such a poor, banished, persecuted church as that of the French Protestants argues a noble contempt of the End quote.
If there be a human creature who more strikingly resembles his Savior than any other upon earth, it is the faithful missionary, whom dangers and hardships cannot intimidate, who can welcome poverty and incessant toil of body and mind in the noble cause of benevolence and heavenly charity. Let the minister who is disposed to glory in the abundance of his labors behold the conduct of Brainerd and be humbled. Let the discontented view his sufferings and complain no more. Let the idle and careless contemplate his intense and unwearied application, and be ashamed. It will be more interesting if he is suffered to tell his own tale. We shall therefore continue the narrative with a letter which, soon after his arrival at Connemique, he addressed to his brother John, and also with extracts from his diary.
Letter Connemique, April 30, 1740 Dear Brother I should tell you I long to see you, but that my own experience has taught me there is no happiness to be enjoyed in earthly friends, though ever so near and dear, or any other enjoyment that is not God Himself. Therefore, if the God of all grace would be pleased graciously to afford us each His presence and grace, that we may perform the work and endure the trials He calls us to in a tiresome wilderness, until we arrive at our journey's end. The distance at which we are held from each other at present is a matter of no great moment. But alas, the presence of God is what I want. I live in the most lonely, melancholy desert, about eighteen miles from Albany.
I board with a poor Scotchman. His wife can talk scarcely any English. My diet consists chiefly of hasty pudding, boiled corn, and bread baked in the ashes. My lodging is a little heap of straw laid upon some boards. A little way from the ground, for it is a log room without any floor that I lodge in. My work is exceeding hard. I travel on foot a mile and a half, the worst of the way, almost daily, and back again, for I live so far from my Indians. I have not seen an English person this month. These and many other circumstances, as uncomfortable, attend me, and yet my spiritual conflicts and distresses so far exceed all these. The Lord grant that I may be enabled to endure hardness as a good soldier of Christ.
As to my success here, I cannot say much. The Indians seem generally well disposed towards me, and mostly very attentive to my instructions. Two or three are under some convictions, but there seems to be little of the special workings of the Divine Spirit among them yet, which gives me many a heart-singing hour. Sometimes I hope God has abundant blessings in store for them and me, but at other times I am so overwhelmed with distress that I cannot see how his dealings with me are consistent with covenant love and faithfulness. And I say, surely his tender mercies are clean gone forever. But, however, I see I needed all this chastisement already. It is good for me that I have endured these trials.
Do not be discouraged by my distress at Mr. Pomeroy's when I saw you last, but God has been with me of a truth since that. But let us always remember that we must, through much tribulation, enter into God's eternal kingdom. The righteous are scarcely saved. It is an infinite wonder that we have hopes of being saved at all. For my part, I feel the most vile of any creature living, and I am sure there is not such another existing on this side hell. Now all you can do for me is to pray incessantly that God would make me humble, holy, resigned, and heavenly-minded by all my trials. Be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might. Let us run, wrestle, and fight, that we may obtain the prize and that complete happiness, to be holy as God is holy.
So wishing and praying that you may advance in learning and grace, and be fit for special service for God, I remain your affectionate brother, David Brainerd. Friday, April 1, 1743. I rode to Connemique, near twenty miles from Stockbridge, where the Indians live, with whom I am concerned, and there lodged on a little heap of straw. The place asked me to ask for a question. As to its situation was sufficiently lonesome and unpleasant, being encompassed with mountains and woods, twenty miles distant from any English inhabitants, six or seven from any Dutch, And more than two from a family that came some time since from the Highlands of Scotland, and had then lived about two years in this wilderness.
In this family I lodged about the space of three months, the master of it being the only person with whom I could readily April 7th.
It seemed to me I should never do any service or have any success among the Indians. I was weary of life and longed for death beyond measure. When I thought of any godly soul departed, my soul was ready to envy him his privilege, thinking, Oh, when will my turn come? Must it be years first? But I know those desires rose partly for want of resignation to God. Towards night I had faith in prayer and some assistance in writing. Oh, that God would keep me near him! Eighth. I was exceedingly pressed under a sense of my party spirit in times past while I attempted to promote the cause of God. Its vile nature appeared in such odious colors that my very heart was pained. I saw how poor souls stumbled over it into everlasting destruction, and was constrained to make that prayer in the bitterness of my soul.
O Lord, deliver me from blood guiltiness. I saw my dessert of hell on this account. My soul was full of anguish and shame before God that I had spent so much time in conversation, tending only to promote a party spirit. I saw that I had not suitably prized mortification, self-denial, resignation under all adversities, meekness, love, candor, and holiness of heart and life, and this day was almost wholly spent in such soul-afflicting reflections on my past conduct. Of late I have thought much of having the kingdom of Christ advanced in the world, but now I saw I had enough to do within myself. The Lord be merciful to me, a sinner, and wash my soul. Tenth. I preached to the Indians both forenoon and afternoon.
They behaved soberly in general. Two or three appeared under some religious concern, with whom I discoursed privately, and one told me her heart had cried ever since she heard me preach first. Thirteenth. My heart was overwhelmed within me. I verily thought I was the meanest, vilest, most helpless, ignorant creature living. And yet I knew what God had done for my soul, though sometimes I was assaulted with doubts whether it was possible for such a wretch as I to be in a state of grace. Twentieth. I set apart this day for fasting and prayer to bow my soul before God for grace, especially that all my inward distresses might be sanctified. I endeavored also to remember the goodness of God to me in the year past, this day being my birthday.
I am now arrived at the age of twenty-five. My soul was pained to think of my barrenness and deadness, that I have lived so little to the glory of God. I spent the day in the woods alone, and there poured out my complaint to the Lord. Oh, that He would enable me to live to His glory for the future. After several weeks, I found my distance from the Indians a very great disadvantage to my work amongst them, and very burdensome to myself, as I was obliged to travel forward and backward almost daily on foot, having no pasture in which I could keep my horse for that purpose. And after all my pains, I could not be with the Indians in the evening and morning, which were usually the best hours to find them at home, and when they could best attend my instructions.
I therefore resolved to remove and live with or near the Indians that I might watch all opportunities when they were generally at home, and take the advantage of such seasons for their instruction. According, I removed soon after, and for a time lived with them in one of their wigwams, and not long after built me a small house where I spent the remainder of that year entirely alone, my interpreter, who was an Indian, choosing rather to live in a wigwam among his own countrymen. But although the difficulties of this solitary way of living are not the least, yet I can truly say, the burden I felt respecting my great work among the poor Indians, the fear and concern that continually hung upon my spirit, lest they should be prejudiced against Christianity by means of the insinuations of some who Although they are called Christians, seemed to have no concern for Christ's kingdom, but had rather the Indians should remain heathens, that they may, with more ease, cheat and enrich themselves by them.
The fear and concern I felt in these respects were much more pressing to me than all the difficulties that attended the circumstances of my living. As to the state or temper of mind in which I found these Indians at my first coming among them, it was much more encouraging than what appears among those who are altogether uncultivated. Their jealousies and suspicions and their prejudices against Christianity were, in a great measure, removed by the long-continued labors of the Reverend Mr. Sargent among a number of the same tribe in a place more than twenty miles distant, by which means these were, in some good degree, prepared to entertain the truths of Christianity instead of objecting against them.
And appeared entirely untractable, as is common with them at first, and as these appeared a few years ago, some of them were well disposed toward religion, and seemed the much pleased with my coming among them. The following extract touches the heart, and we cannot but sincerely wish that he had been blessed with a brother and companion in labors. When the compassionate Redeemer sent forth his disciples, he sent them two and two. He knew their frame and would not unnecessarily expose them to hardships when they were surrounded with so many that were unavoidable. May 18th. My circumstances are such that I have no comfort of any kind but what I have in God. I live in the most lonesome wilderness, have but one single person to converse with that can speak English.
Most of the talk I hear is either Highland Scotch or Indian. I had no fellow Christian to whom I might unbosom myself and lay open my spiritual sorrows, and with whom I might take sweet counsel in conversation about heavenly things and join in prayer. I live poorly with respect to the comforts of life. Most of them consist of boiled corn and hasty pudding. I lodge on a bundle of straw, my labor is hard, and I have little appearance of success. The Indians' affairs are very difficult, having no land to live on but what the Dutch threaten to drive them from. They have no regard to the souls of the poor Indians, and they hate me because I come to preach to them. But that which makes all my difficulties grievous to be borne is that God hides his face from me.
Ever active in the cause of his Divine Master, it struck him that a young Indian, his interpreter, who had been instructed in the Christian religion by Mr. Sargent of Stockbridge, and also by Mr. Williams of Longmeadow, at the charge of Mr. Hollis of London, would greatly assist him in the capacity of schoolmaster, and to get him appointed to this office on the 30th of May, though in a very weak state of body, and miserably dejected in mind. Beset out on a journey to New Jersey to consult the commissioners on the subject. This journey he performed in four days, accomplished his object, and spent a week in different places with his friends. On the Monday following, he rode about 60 miles to New Haven and attempted a reconciliation with his college in vain.
His trivial crime seemed, in the estimation of the governors, to have it upon the, quote, primal curse of heaven, end quote, and for them he might be a wanderer and a vagabond. However, this failure did not deter him soon after from making another attempt. He felt that he had erred and sought forgiveness with the meekness of a Christian, and we blush to record again without success. On the 30th of July he moved into the house which he had erected, and though it must have been a miserable hovel, thus he expresses his satisfaction with such an abode, and an extract or two will discover to us the state of his mind, and will afford us some idea of the difficulties with which he had continually to struggle.
Saturday, July 30th. Just at night I moved into my own house, and lodged there that night. Found it much better spending the time alone in my own house than in the wigwam, where I was before. Lord's Day, July 31st. Felt more comfortably than some days past. Blessed be the Lord that has now given me a place of retirement. Oh, that I might find God in it, and that He would dwell with me forever. August 3rd. Spent most of the day in writing. Enjoyed some sense of religion. Through divine goodness, I am now uninterruptedly alone, and find my retirement comfortable. Fourth. Was enabled to pray much through the whole day, and through divine goodness found some intenseness of soul in the duty as I used to do, and some ability to persevere in my supplications.
Had some apprehensions of divine things that were engaging, and that gave me some courage and resolution. It is good, I find, to persevere in attempts to pray if I cannot pray with perseverance, i.e., continue long in my addresses to the Divine Being. I have generally found that the more I do in secret prayer, the more I have delighted to do and have enjoyed more of the spirit of prayer, and frequently have found the contrary when with journeying or otherwise I have been much deprived of retirement. A seasonable, steady performance of secret duties in their proper hours and a careful improvement of all time, filling up every hour with some profitable labor, either of heart, head, or hands, are excellent means of spiritual peace and boldness before God.
Christ, indeed, is our peace, and by Him we have boldness of access to God. But a good conscience, void of offense, is an excellent preparative for an approach into the Divine Presence. There is a difference between self-confidence and a self-righteous pleasing ourselves, with our own duties, attainments, and spiritual enjoyments, which godly persons sometimes are guilty of, and that holy confidence arising from the testimony of a good conscience, which Hezekiah had when he says, Remember, O Lord, I beseech thee, how I have walked before thee in truth and with a perfect heart. Then, says the holy psalmist, shall I not be ashamed when I have respect to all thy commandments? Filling up our time with and for God is the way to rise up and lie down in peace.
In my weak state of body, I was not a little distressed for want of suitable food. I had no bread, nor could I get any. I am forced to go or send 10 or 15 miles for all the bread I eat, and sometimes it is moldy and sour before I eat it, if I get any considerable quantity, and then again I have none for some days together for want of an opportunity to send for it. And this was the case now, but through divine goodness I had some Indian meal, of which I made little cakes and fried them. And I felt contented with my circumstances, and sweetly resigned to God. In prayer I enjoyed great freedom and 21st. I fell down before the Lord and groaned under my own vileness, barrenness, deadness, and felt as if I was guilty of soul murder, in speaking to immortal souls in such a manner as I had done.
I was very ill and full of pain in the evening, and my soul mourned that I had spent so much time to so little profit. 22. I had intense and passionate breathings of soul after holiness and very clear manifestations of my utter inability to procure or work it in myself. It is wholly owing to the power of God. Oh, with what tenderness the love and desire of holiness fills the soul! I wanted to wing out myself to God, or rather to get a conformity to Him, but alas, I cannot add to my stature in grace one cubit. However, my soul can never leave striving for it, or at least groaning that it cannot obtain more purity of heart. Twenty-third. I poured out my soul for all the world, friends and enemies.
My soul was concerned for Christ's kingdom, that it might appear in the whole earth, and I abhorred the very thought of a party in religion. Let the truth of God appear wherever it is, and God shall have the glory forever. Twenty-fifth. I find it impossible to enjoy peace and tranquility of mind without a careful improvement of time. This is really an imitation of God and Christ Jesus. My father worketh hitherto, and I work, says our Lord. Be still, if we would be like God, we must see that we fill up our time for him. I daily long to dwell in perfect light and love. In the meantime, my soul mourns that I make so little progress in grace, and preparation for the world a blessedness. I see and know that I am a very barren tree in God's vineyard, and that he might justly say, cut it down.
Oh, that God would make me more lively and vigorous in grace for His own glory. Twenty-eighth. I was much perplexed with some Dutchmen. All their discourse turned upon the things of the world. Oh, what a hell it would be to spend an eternity with such men! Well might David say, I beheld the transgressors and was grieved. But adored be God, heaven is a place into which no unclean thing enters. Oh, I long for the holiness of that world. Lord, prepare me for it. About this time he undertook a journey to New York, and in September rode once more to New Haven, at the time of commencement, a time as we have before observed when many of his fellow students were to take their degree, and when, had he not been cruelly expelled, he would not only have shared in their honors, but appeared at the head of the class.
Thus he sweetly writes on the subject. Whereas I have said before several persons concerning Mr. Whittlesey that I did not believe he had any more grace than the chair I then leaned upon, I humbly confess that herein I have sinned against God and acted contrary to the rules of his word, and have injured Mr. Whittlesey. I had no right to make thus free with his character and had no just reason to say as I did concerning him. My fault herein was the more aggravated, in that I said this concerning one that was so much my superior, and one that I was obliged to treat with special respect and honor, by reason of the relation I stood in to him in the college. Such a manner of behavior, I confess, did not become a Christian.
It was taking too much upon me, and did not savor that of humble respect that I ought to have expressed towards Mr. Whittlesey. I have long since been convinced of the falseness of those apprehensions by which I then justified such a conduct. I have often reflected on this act with grief. I hope on account of the sin of it, and am willing to lie low and be abased before God and man for it, and humbly ask the forgiveness of the governors of the college and of the whole society, but of Mr. Whittlesey in particular. And whereas I have been accused of saying concerning the rector of Yale College that I wondered he did not expect to drop down dead for fining the scholars that followed Mr. Tennant to Milford, I seriously profess that I do not remember my saying anything to this purpose.
But if I did, I utterly condemn it and detest all such kind of behavior. And I now appear to judge and condemn myself for going once to the separate meeting in New Haven, though the rector had refused to give me leave. For this I humbly ask the rector's forgiveness. And whether the governors of the college shall ever see cause to remove the academical censure I lie under or no, yet I am willing to appear, if they think fit, openly to own and to humble myself for those things I have herein confessed. God has made me willing to do anything that I can do consistent with truth for the sake of peace, and that I might not be a stumbling block and offense to others. For this reason, I can cheerfully give up what I verily believe, after the most impartial search is my right.
God has given me that disposition, that if this were the case, that a man has done me an hundred injuries, and I, though ever so much provoked to it, have done him one, I am heartily, willing, humbly to confess my fault to him, and on my knees to ask forgiveness of him. Though at the same time he should justify himself in all the injuries he has done me, and should only make use of my humble confession to blacken my character the more, and represent me as the only person guilty. Yea, though he should, as it were, insult me and say, he knew all this before, and that I was making work for repentance. Though what I said concerning Mr. Whittlesea was only spoken in private to a friend or two, and being partly overheard was related to the rector, and by him extorted from my friends, yet seeing it was divulged and made public, I was willing to confess my fault therein publicly.
For this purpose he went to New Haven at the time we have mentioned, and President Edwards thus commends his spirit and conduct on this occasion. Quote, I was witness to the very Christian spirit Mr. Brainerd showed at that time, being then at New Haven, and being one that he saw fit to consult on that occasion. This was the first time that ever I had an opportunity of personal acquaintance with him. There appeared in him a great degree of calmness and humility, without the least appearance of rising spirit for any ill-treatment he had suffered, or the least backwards to abase himself before them whom he thought had wronged him. What he did was without any objection or appearance of reluctance, even in private to his friends.
During his short residence at Connemique, it is astonishing how various and how constant his exertions were. He was in journeyings oft, and his labors were abundant. When with the Indians, he discoursed to them on the most important subjects of theology, and frequently catechized them. And when we consider that he had a very slight acquaintance with their language, that he was obliged to teach them by an interpreter, that he had to manage their temporal concerns, and often to arbitrate between them in their petty disagreements, and when added to this, we also recollect that the objects of his more than parental care were untutored savages, we must be filled with amazement at the difficulties which he had to encounter, and at the patient perseverance by which he surmounted them.
During the whole of the term, it should be It should also be remembered that his health was very precarious, his constitution delicate, and that he often struggled with very severe indisposition. For a considerable part of the time, we are informed that amidst his other labors, he applied himself closely to the study of the Indian language, and that he might enjoy the advantage of a tutor. He often rode in the depths of winter a distance of twenty miles backwards and forwards through the uninhabited woods between Stockbridge and Conomeek. His inward conflicts, trials, and enjoyments during his residence at Conamique will appear from the following extracts from his diary. October 4th. This day I rode home to my own house and people.
The poor Indians appeared very glad of my return. I presently fell on my knees and blessed God for my safe return. I have taken many considerable journeys since this time last year, and yet God has never suffered one of my bones to be broken, or any distressing calamity to befall me, though I have been often exposed to cold and hunger in the wilderness, where the comforts of life were not to be had, have frequently been lost in the woods, and sometimes obliged to ride much of the night, and once lay out in the woods all night. Sixteenth. I retired and poured out my soul to God with much freedom, and yet in anguish, to find myself so unspeakably sinful and unworthy before a holy God. I was now much resigned under God's dispensations towards me, though my trials had been very great, but thought whether I could be resigned if God should let the French Indians come upon me and deprive me of my life or carry me away captive, though I knew of no special reason than to propose this trial to myself.
And my soul seemed so far to rest in God that the sting and terror of these things was gone. Presently after I received the following letter by a messenger sent on purpose, quote, Sir, just now we received advices from Colonel Stoddard that there is the utmost danger of a rupture with France. He has received the same from our governor, ordering him to give notice to all the exposed places that they may secure themselves the best they can against any sudden invasion. We thought best to send directly to Konamik, that you may take the prudentest measures for your safety. I am sir, etc. End quote. I thought it came in a good season, for my heart seemed fixed on God, therefore I was not surprised.
But this news only made me more serious and taught me that I must not please myself with any of the comforts of life which I had been preparing. Twenty-third. I had some freedom and warmth both parts of the day. And my people were very attentive. In the evening two or three came to me under concern for their souls, to whom I was enabled to discourse closely, and with some earnestness and desire. Thirty-first, my soul was so lifted up to God that I could pour out my desires to Him for more grace and further degrees of sanctification with abundant freedom. I longed to be more abundantly prepared for that blessedness with which I was then in some measure refreshed. November 3rd. I spent this day in secret fasting and prayer, from morning till night.
Early in the morning I had some assistance in prayer. Afterwards I read the story of Elijah the prophet. My soul was much moved, observing the faith, zeal, and power of that holy man and how he wrestled with God in prayer. I then cried with Elisha, Where is the Lord God of Elijah? I longed for more faith. My soul breathed after God and pleaded with Him that a double portion of that spirit which was given to Elijah might rest on me, and I saw God is the same that He was in the days of Elijah. I was enabled to wrestle with God by prayer in a more affectionate, humble, and importunate manner than I have for many months past. Nothing seemed too hard for God to perform, nothing too great for me to hope for from Him.
I had for many months lost all hopes of doing any special service for God in the world. It appeared impossible that one so vile should be thus employed for God. But at this time God was pleased to revive this hope. Afterwards I read the third chapter of Exodus and on to the twentieth, and saw more of the glory and majesty of God discovered in those chapters than ever I had seen before. Frequently, in the meantime, falling on my knees and crying to God for the faith of Moses and for a manifestation of the divine glory. My soul was ardent in prayer, and I was enabled to wrestle for myself, for my friends, and for the Church. I felt more desire to see the power of God in the conversion of souls than I have done for a long season.
Blessed be God for this season of fasting and prayer. May His goodness always abide with me and draw my soul to Him. Seventh. This morning my mind was solemn, fixed, affectionate, and ardent in desires after holiness, and felt full of tenderness and love. My affection seemed to be dissolved into kindness and softness. My soul longed after God and cried to Him with that filial freedom, reverence, and boldness. Oh, that I might be entirely consecrated and devoted to God! December 3rd, I rode home to my house and people. Suffered much with extreme cold. I trust I shall ere long arrive where my toils shall cease. Fifth. I rode to Stockbridge, but was almost outdone with the extreme cold. I had some refreshing meditations by the way, but was barren and lifeless much of the day.
Thus my days roll away with but little done for God, and this is my burden. Sixth. I was perplexed to see the vanity and levity of professed Christians, but I spent the evening with a Christian friend that was able to sympathize with me in my spiritual conflicts. Eighth. My mind was lost with different affections. I was looking round in the world to see if there was not some happiness to be derived from it. God and some objects in the world seemed each to invite my heart, and my soul was distracted between them. I have not been so beset for a long time with relation to some objects which I thought myself most dead to. But while I was desiring to please myself with anything below, sorrow and perplexity attended the first motions of desire.
I found no peace or deliverance from this distraction till I found access to the throne of grace, and as soon as I had any sense of God, the allurements of the world vanished. But my soul mourned over my folly that I should desire any pleasure but in God. God forgive my spiritual idolatry. 26. I rode to Stockbridge, but was very much fatigued with my journey wherein I underwent great hardship, being much exposed and very wet by falling into a river. I spent the day and evening without much sense of divine things, but perplexed with wandering thoughts. Twenty-ninth. I had spent the day mainly in conversing with friends, yet enjoyed little satisfaction, because I could find but few disposed to converse of heavenly things.
Alas, what are the things of this world to afford satisfaction to the soul? I blessed God for retirement, and that I am not always exposed to company. Oh, that I could live in the secret of God's presence. Lord's Day, January 1, 1743. Of a truth, God has been gracious to me the last year, though He has caused me to pass through many sorrows. He has provided for me bountifully, so that I have been enabled, in about fifteen months past, to bestow to charitable uses about an hundred pounds. Blessed be the Lord that He has so far used me as His steward to distribute a portion of His goods. May I always remember that all I have comes from God. Blessed be the Lord that has carried me through all the toils, fatigues, and hardships of the year past.
Oh, that I could begin this year with God and spend the whole of it to His glory, either in life or death. Third. My time passes away so swiftly that I am astonished when I reflect how little I do in it. My state of solitude does not make the hours hang heavy upon my hands. Oh, what reason of thankfulness have I on account of this retirement! I do not lead a Christian life when I am abroad and cannot spend time in devotion, Christian conversation, and meditation. Those weeks that I am obliged to be from home in order to learn the Indian tongue are mostly spent in barrenness, and I feel myself a stranger to the throne of grace. When I return home and give myself to meditation, prayer, and fasting, a new scene opens and my soul longs for mortification, self-denial, humility, and divorcement from all the things of the world.
Fourth. Time appeared a moment, life of vapor, and all its enjoyments as empty bubbles and fleeting blasts of wind. Sixth. Feeling my extreme weakness and want of grace, I set apart this day for fasting and prayer. My soul intensely longed that the dreadful spots and stains of my sin may be washed away. My mind was greatly fixed on divine things. My resolution for a life of mortification, continual watchfulness, self-denial, seriousness, and devotion to God were strong and fixed. My desires ardent and intense, my conscience tender and afraid of every appearance of evil. My soul was grieved with a reflection on my past levity and want of resolution for God. I solemnly renewed my dedication of myself to God and longed for grace to enable me always to keep covenant with Him.
February 2nd. I spent this day in fasting and prayer seeking the presence and assistance of God that He would enable me to overcome all my corruptions and spiritual enemies. Seventh. I was much engaged in meditation on the powers and affections of the godly soul in the pursuit of their beloved object. Wrote something of the native language of spiritual sensation in its soft and tender whispers, declaring that it now feels and tastes that the Lord is gracious, that He is the supreme good, the only satisfying happiness, that He is a complete, sufficient, and almighty portion, saying, Whom have I in heaven but thee? And there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee. O, I feel it is heaven to please Him, and to be just what He would have me to be.
O, that my soul were holy as He is holy. O, that it were pure even as Christ is pure, and perfect as my Father in heaven is perfect. These, I feel, are the sweetest commands in God's book comprising all others. And shall I break them? Must I break them? Am I under a necessity of it as long as I live in the world? No. O my soul, woe is me that I am a sinner, because I grieve and offend this blessed God, who is infinite in goodness and grace. O methinks if He would punish me for my sins, it would not wound my heart so deep as to offend Him. But though I sin continually, yet He continually repeats His kindness to me. I could bear any suffering, but how can I bear to grieve and dishonor this blessed God?
How shall I yield ten thousand times more honor to Him? What shall I do to glorify this best of beings? Oh, that I could consecrate myself, soul and body, to His service forever! Oh, that I could give up myself to Him, so as never more to attempt to be my own, or to have any will or affections that are not perfectly conformed to Him! O ye angels, do ye glorify Him incessantly, and if possible, prostrate yourselves lower before the blessed King of heaven. I long to bear a part with you, and if it were possible, to help you.
O End quote. Tenth.
I was exceedingly oppressed with shame, grief, and fear, under a sense of my past folly. When God sets before me my misconduct, especially any instances of misguided zeal, it sinks my soul into shame and confusion. I have no confidence to hold up my face even before my fellow worms, but only when my soul confides in God and I find the sweet temper of Christ, the spirit of humility, solemnity, and mortification, alive in my soul. Friday, March 2nd. I never felt so much love to my enemies, though at the time I found such a disposition that I scarce knew how to think that any such thing as enmity lodged in my soul. It seemed as if all the world must needs be friends, and never prayed with more freedom and delight for myself or dearest friend than I did now for them.
Saturday, March 3rd. I spent an hour in prayer, with great intenseness and freedom, and with the most soft and tender affection towards mankind. I longed that those who I have reason to think, O me, ill will, might be eternally happy. It seemed refreshing to think of meeting them in heaven, how much soever they had injured me on earth. I had no disposition to insist upon any confession from them, in order to reconciliation and the exercise of love and kindness to them. Oh, it is an emblem of heaven to love all the world with a love of kindness, forgiveness, and benevolence, to feel our souls sedate, mild, and meek, to be void of all evil, surmisings, and suspicions, and scarce able to think evil of any man upon any occasion, to find our hearts simple, open, and free to those who look upon us with a different eye.
Tenth. I felt exceeding dead to the world and all its enjoyments. I was ready to give up life and all its comforts, as soon as called to it, and yet then had as much comfort of life as almost ever I had. Life itself appeared but an empty bubble, the riches, honors, and enjoyments of it extremely tasteless. I longed to be entirely crucified to all things here below. My soul was sweetly resigned to God's disposal of me, and I saw there had nothing happened to me but what was best for me. I confided in God that He would never leave me, though I should walk through the valley of the shadow of death. It was my meat and drink to be holy, to live to the Lord, and to die to the Lord. And then I enjoyed such a heaven, as far exceeded the most sublime conceptions of an unregenerate soul, and even unspeakably beyond what I myself could conceive at another time.
I did not wonder that Peter said, Lord, it is good to be here, when thus refreshed with divine glories. My soul was full of love and tenderness in the duty of intercession, especially of sweet affection to some godly ministers. I prayed earnestly for those I have reason to fear are my enemies, and could not have spoken a word of bitterness or entertained a bitter thought against the vilest man living. I had a sense of my own great unworthiness. My soul seemed to breathe forth love and praise to God afresh when I thought He would let His children love and receive me as one of their brethren and fellow citizens. And when I thought of their treating me in that manner, I longed to lie at their feet and could think of no way to express the sincerity and simplicity of my love and esteem of them as being much better than myself.
I longed to get on my knees and ask forgiveness of everybody that ever had seen anything amiss in my past conduct, especially in my religious zeal. Lord's Day, March 11th. I preached from the parable of the sower, had some freedom, affection, and fervency in addressing my poor people, longing that God should take hold of their hearts and make them spiritually alive. And indeed I had so much to say to them that I knew not how to leave off speaking. The particular method which Mr. Brainard pursued in conveying instruction to the Indians will appear from part of a letter in which he addresses to Mr. Pemberton. In my labors with them, to turn them from darkness to light, I studied what was most plain and easy, and best suited to their capacities, and endeavored to set before them from time to time as they were able to receive them.
The most important and necessary truths of Christianity, such as most immediately concerned their speedy conversion to God, and such as I had judged the greatest tendency, as means, to effect that glorious change in them. But especially I made it the scope and drift of all my labors, to lead them into a thorough acquaintance with these two things. First, the sinfulness and misery of the estate they were naturally in, the evil of their hearts, the pollution of their natures, the heavy guilt they were under, and their exposedness to everlasting punishment. As also their utter inability to save themselves, either from their sins or from those miseries which are the just punishment of them, and their unworthiness of any mercy at the hand of God on account of anything they themselves could do, to procure His favor, and consequently their extreme need of Christ to save them.
And secondly, I frequently endeavored to open to them the fullness, all-sufficiency, and freeness of that redemption which the Son of God hath wrought out by His obedience and sufferings for perishing sinners. How this provision he had made was suited to all their wants, and how he called and invited them to accept of everlasting life freely, notwithstanding all their sinfulness, inability, unworthiness, etc. After I had been with the Indians several months, I composed sundry forms of prayer adapted to their circumstances and capacities, which, with the help of my interpreter, I translated into the Indian language, and soon learned to pronounce their words so as to pray with them in their own tongue.
I also translated sundry psalms into their language, and soon after we were able to sing in the worship of God. When my people had gained some acquaintance with many of the truths of Christianity, so that they were capable of receiving and understanding many others which, at first, could not be taught them, by reason of their ignorance of those that were necessary to be previously known, and upon which others depended, I then gave them an historical account of God's dealing with His ancient professing people, the Jews, some of the rites and ceremonies they were obliged to observe, as their sacrifices, etc., and what these were designed to represent to them, as also some of the surprising miracles God wrought for their salvation while they trusted on Him, and the sore punishments He sometimes brought upon them when they forsook and sinned against Him.
Afterwards I proceeded to give them a relation of the birth, life, miracles, sufferings, death, and resurrection of Christ, as well as his ascension and the wonderful effusion of the Holy Spirit consequent thereupon. And having thus endeavored to prepare the way by such a general account of things, I next proceeded to read and expound to them the Gospel of Matthew, at least the substance of it, in course, wherein they had a more distinct and particular view of what they had before some general notion of. These expositions I attended almost every evening, when there was any considerable number of them at home, except when I was obliged to be absent myself in order to learn the Indian language with the Reverend Mr.
Sargent. Besides these means of instruction, there was likewise an English school constantly kept by my interpreter among the Indians, which I used frequently to visit in order to give the children and young people some proper instructions and serious exhortations suited to their age. The degree of knowledge to which some of them attained was considerable. Many of the truths of Christianity seemed fixed in their minds, especially in some instances, so that they could speak to me of themselves and ask such questions about them as were necessary to render them more plain and clear to their understandings. The children also, and young people who attended the school, made considerable proficiency, at least some of them, in their learning.
So that, had they understood the English language well, they would have been able to read somewhat readily in a Psalter. But that which was most of all desirable, and gave me the greatest encouragement amidst many difficult and disconsolate hours, was that the truth of God's word seemed at times to be attended with some power upon the hearts and consciences of the Indians. And especially this appeared evident in a few instances who were awakened to some sense of their miserable estate by nature, and appeared solicitous for deliverance from it. Several of them came of their own accord, to discourse with me about their soul's concern, and some with tears inquired what they should do to be saved, and whether the God that Christians served would be merciful to those who have And although I cannot say I have satisfactory evidences of their being renewed in the spirit of their minds and savingly converted to God, Yet the Spirit of God did, I apprehended, in such a manner, attended the means of grace, and so operate upon their minds thereby, as might justly afford matter of encouragement to hope that God designed good to them, and that He was preparing His way into their souls.
There likewise appeared a reformation in the lives and manners of the Indians. Their idolatrous sacrifices, of which there was but one or two that I know of, after my coming among them, were wholly laid aside. And their heathenish custom of dancing, hallooing, etc., thus seemed in a considerable measure broken off from. And I could not but hope that they were reformed in some measure from the sin of drunkenness. They likewise manifested a regard to the Lord's day, and not only behaved soberly themselves, but took care also to keep their children in order. Yet after all, I must confess that as there were many hopeful appearances among them, so there were some things more discouraging. And while I rejoiced to observe any seriousness and concern among them about the affairs of their souls, still I was not without continual fear and concern, lest such encouraging appearances might prove like a morning cloud that passeth away.
Mr. Brainerd continued at Connemique about a year, and as the Indians there were few in number, he persuaded them to remove to Stockbridge, that they might enjoy the benefit of Mr. Sargent's ministrations. For himself, he thought, quote, he might do more service for Christ in a field where he should enjoy full scope for his exertions, end quote. His account of his first intimating his intention to his sable flock is affecting, quote, I informed them Says he, that I expected to leave them in the spring, then approaching, and to be sent to another tribe of Indians at a great distance from them. Upon hearing of which they appeared very sorrowful, and some of them endeavored to persuade me to continue with them, urging that they had now heard so much about their soul's concern that they could never more be willing to live as they had done, without a minister, and further instructions in the way to heaven.
Whereupon I told them they ought to be willing that others also should hear about their soul's concern. Seeing those needed it as much as themselves. Yet further to dissuade me from going, they added, that those Indians to whom I had thought of going, as they had heard, were not willing to become Christians as they were. and therefore urged me to tarry with them. I then told them that they might receive further instruction without me, but the Indians to whom I expected to be sent could not, there being no minister near, to teach them.
In order to further this design, which he had thus made known to his people, Mr. Brainerd determined on another journey to New Jersey that he might state his views to the commissioners. They accordingly met him at Elizabethtown and resolved, quote, that he should forthwith leave Connemique and go to Delaware, end quote. And with this resolution, he cheerfully complied. His compliance on this occasion, when all circumstances are considered, reflects the highest honor upon his character. He did not rush, like the inexperienced war horse, into the battle. He was not influenced by the fervor of youth, which overlooks difficulties in the pursuit of a favorite object, which bestrews an untrodden path with flowers while it forgets the briars and the thorns.
The novelty of the thing had also worn away. Brainerd knew, from experience, the nature of a missionary life. For a year he had been placed in the most untoward circumstances, shut out from society, destitute of every earthly comfort. He had to struggle with the ignorance and depravity of barbarians, and in the work dear to his heart he received also very little encouragement. Yet notwithstanding all this bitter experience, he was willing to encounter the same and greater hardships. He drank into the apostolic spirit. And the noble language of Paul was the language of his conduct. None of these things move me, neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I may finish my course with joy. Had he been disposed, he could have made the retreat honorable, especially as at this period he received two very pressing invitations to the pastoral office, and one was from East Hampton, the finest, pleasantest town in Long Island, and one of its largest and most wealthy parishes.
But the charms of civilized society, the intercourse of Christian friendship, the prospect of emolument and honor among men, were all lost upon the devoted spirit of Brainerd. To these he preferred a wigwam among brutish savages, an exile from his native land, the loneliness of a dreary solitude, the difficulties and intense labors of an Indian mission. Having resolved on the field of his subsequent labors, he returned to Connemique to prepare for his final departure. And when he had settled his affairs, he commenced a long and dreary journey to the Forks of Delaware. An extract from his diary and from his letter to Mr. Pemberton, before quoted, will describe all that occurred of importance during this journey, as well as the manner in which he was received among the Indians to whom he was sent.
May 1st, having received new orders to go to the Indians on Delaware River in Pennsylvania, and my people here being mostly removed to Mr. Sargent's, I this day took all my clothes, books, etc., and disposed of them, and set out for Delaware River, but made it in my way to return to Mr. Sargent's, which I did this day, just at night. I rode several hours in the rain through the howling wilderness, although I was so disordered in body that little or nothing but blood came from me. Tuesday, May 8th. I spent much of my time while writing in prayer that God would go with me to Delaware. My heart sometimes was ready to sync with the thoughts of my work, and going alone in the wilderness I knew not where, but still it was comfortable to think that others of God's children had, quote, wandered about in caves and dens of the earth, end quote, and Abraham, when he was called to go forth, quote, went out, not knowing whither he went, end quote.
On May 10th, I met with a number of Indians in a place called Minasinix, about 140 miles from Conamique, and directly in my way to the Delaware River. With these Indians, I spent some time first addressing their king in a friendly manner, and after some discourse, I told him I had a desire to instruct them in Christianity, at which he laughed, turned his back upon me, and went away. I then addressed another principal man in the same manner, who said he was willing to hear me. After some time I followed the king into his house and renewed my discourse to him, but he declined talking and left the affair to another, who appeared to be a rational man. He talked very warmly and inquired why I desired the Indians to become Christians, seeing the Christians were so much worse than the Indians.
The Christians, he said, would lie, steal, and drink worse than the Indians. It was they that first taught the Indians to be drunk, and they stole from one another to that degree, that the rulers were obliged to hang them for it, and that was not sufficient to deter others from the like practice. But the Indians, he added, were none of them ever hanged for stealing, and he supposed that if the Indians should become Christians, they then would be as bad as these. He added that they would live as their fathers lived, and go to their fathers when they died. I then freely owned, lamented, and joined in condemning the ill-conduct of some who are called Christians, told them these were not Christians in heart, that I hated such wicked practices, and did not desire the Indians to become such as these.
When he appeared calmer, I asked him if he was willing that I should come and see them again. He replied he should be willing to see me again as a friend, if I would not desire them to become Christians. I then bid them farewell and prosecuted my journey towards Delaware. May 13th, I arrived at a place called by the Indians, Sakhawatong, within the forks of Delaware in Pennsylvania. Here also, when I came to the Indians, I saluted their king in a manner I thought most engaging, and soon after informed him of my desire to instruct them in the Christian religion. After he had consulted a few minutes with two or three old men, he told me he was willing to hear. I then preached to those few that were present who appeared very attentive, and the king in particular seemed both to wonder and at the same time to be well pleased with what I taught them, respecting the divine being.
And since that time, he has ever shown himself friendly to me, giving me free liberty to preach in his house whenever I think fit. Here, therefore, I spent the greater part of my life. The number of Indians in this place is but small. Most of those that formerly belonged here are removed far back into the country. There are not more than ten houses hereabouts that continue to be inhabited, and some of these are several miles distant from others, which makes it difficult for the Indians to meet together so frequently as could be desired. When I first began to preach here, the number of hearers was very small, often not exceeding twenty or twenty-five persons, but towards the latter part of the summer their number increased, so that I have frequently had forty persons or more at once, and of the most of these belonging to those parts.
The effects which the truths of God's word have had upon some of the Indians in this place are somewhat encouraging. Sundry of them are brought to renounce idolatry. And some few instances among them have, for a considerable time, manifested a serious concern for their soul's eternal welfare, and still continue to inquire the way to Zion, with such diligence, affection, and becoming solicitude as gives me reason to hope that God, who I trust, has begun this work in them, will carry it on until it shall issue in their saving conversion to himself. These not only detest their old idolatrous notions, but strive also to bring their friends off from them. And as they are seeking salvation for their own souls, so they seem desirous, and some of them take pains, that others might be excited to do the like.
Lord's Day, May 13th. I rose very early, felt very poorly after my long journey, and after being wet and fatigued. I have scarce ever seen such a gloomy morning in my life. There appeared to be no Sabbath. The children were all at play. I, a stranger in the wilderness, and knew not where to go, and all circumstances seeming to conspire to render my affairs dark and discouraging, I mourned after the presence of God and seemed like a creature banished from his sight. Yet he was pleased to support my sinking soul amidst all my sorrows, so that I never entertained any thought of quitting my business among the poor Indians, but was comforted to think that death would ere long set me free from these distresses.
I rode out about three miles to the Irish people, where I found some that appeared sober and concerned about religion. My heart then began to be a little encouraged. I preached first to the Irish and then to the Indians. In the evening was a little comforted. My soul seemed to rest on God and take courage. Oh, that the Lord would be my support and comforter in an evil world. Fourteenth. I felt myself loose from all the world. All appeared vanity and vexation of a spirit. I seemed lonesome, as if I was banished from all mankind, and bereaved of all that is called pleasurable in the world, but appeared to myself so vile and unworthy it seemed fitter for me to be here than anywhere else. Seventeenth.
I was greatly distressed with a sense of my vileness, appearing to myself too bad to walk on God's earth. God was pleased to let me see my inward pollution to such a degree that I almost despaired of being made holy. In the afternoon I met with the Indians and preached to them. My soul seemed to confide in God and had some enlargement in prayer. Vital piety and holiness appeared sweet to me, and I longed for the perfection of it. May 20th. I preached to the poor Indians and enjoyed some freedom in speaking. My soul longed for assistance from above all the while, for I saw I had no strength for that work. Afterwards I preached to the Irish people, and several seemed much concerned with whom I discoursed afterwards with freedom and power.
Blessed be God for any assistance to an unworthy worm. 27th. I visited my Indians in the morning, and attending upon a funeral among them was affected to see their heathenish practices. Oh, that they might be turned from darkness to light! Afterwards, I got a considerable number of them together and preached to them and observed them very attentive. I then preached to the white people, and several seemed much concerned, especially one who had been educated a Roman Catholic. Blessed be the Lord for any help. In this situation, Mr. Brainerd did not continue a month before he was summoned to Newark to meet the Presbytery, who were engaged solemnly to designate him to his office as missionary among the Indians.
The day of ordination is a memorable era in the life of a minister. It is a period to which he usually looks forward with trembling apprehension, the approach of which leads him to the most serious self-scrutiny as to his motives, his qualifications, his call to the work, and, quote, the necessity that is laid upon him, end quote. And the review of which, after it is passed, often agitates him with the mixed sensations of shame and gratitude, and every minister will sympathize with him in the following disclosure of his feelings on this occasion. June 11th. This day the Presbytery met at Newark in order to my ordination. I was very weak and disordered in body, yet endeavored to repose my confidence in God.
I preached my probation sermon from Acts 26, verses 17 and 18, being a text given me for that end. Afterwards, I passed an examination before the Presbytery. My mind was burdened with the greatness of that charge I was about to take upon me, so that I could not sleep this night, though very weary and in great need of rest. Twelfth. I was this morning further examined, respecting my experimental acquaintance with Christianity. At 10 o'clock my ordination was attended. The sermon was preached by Mr. Pemberton. At this time I was affected with a sense of the important trust committed to me, yet was composed and solemn without distraction. And I then, as many times before, gave myself up to God to be for Him and not for another.
Oh, that I might always be engaged in the service of God and duly remember the solemn charge I have received in the presence of God, angels, and men. Few men, perhaps, ever passed through an ordination service with greater satisfaction to all parties than Brainerd. Mr. Pemberton, in a letter to the Honorable Society in Scotland, by whom he was employed, paid him this just and warm tribute of affection and respect. We can with pleasure say that Mr. Brainerd passed through his ordination trials to the universal approbation of the Presbytery and appeared uncommonly qualified for the work of the ministry. He seems to be armed with a great deal of self-denial and animated with a noble zeal to propagate the gospel among those barbarous nations who have long dwelt in the darkness of heathenism."
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Mr. Brainerd's return to Delaware. Extracts from his diary. His journeys to different places. His preaching and success, as related by himself, as far as to the close of his first journey to Susquehanna River. Another journey to New England. Its object. A second journey to Susquehanna. His return. His arrival at Crossweekson. It was mentioned in commendation of a generous female in the Gospel by her compassionate Redeemer, quote, she hath done what she could, end quote. It is a commendation which few deserve, and happy is that minister who on a review of his life can say that his hours, his talents, and his whole soul have been devoted to the service of his God. The utmost we can do is very little, and how bitter the reflection that even that little has not been accomplished, that we have wasted that time on trifles which should have been devoted to the service of his God.
Alas, how few imbibe the spirit of their Redeemer! Who exclaimed, quote, My father worketh hitherto, and I work, end quote. Yet in this, as in everything, allowing for human infirmity, David Brainerd followed his great exemplar. The abundance of his labors, the intenseness of his application, and the constancy of his perseverance in forwarding the great object of his mission are truly astonishing. And what Foster says of Howard as a philanthropist applies with equal force to Brainerd as a missionary. And in turning to the passage—I hope the author will forgive me that it was not written on the tablet of my memory—I find that Brainerd rose to his view when he was penning his warm and divine eulogy on the character of Howard.
The energy of his determination was so great that if, instead of being habitual, it had been shown only for a short time on particular occasions, it would have appeared a vehement impetuosity. But by being unintermitted, it had an equability of manner which scarcely appeared to exceed the tone of a calm constancy. It was so totally the reverse of anything like turbulence or agitation. It was the calmness of an intensity kept uniform by the nature of the human mind forbidding it to be more, and by the character of the individual forbidding it to be less."
His conduct, quote, implied an inconceivable severity of conviction that he had one thing to do, and that he who would do some great thing in this short life must apply himself to the work with such a concentration of his forces as to idle spectators. who live only to amuse themselves, looks like insanity.
Brainerd indeed displayed a memorable example of this dedication of his whole being to his office, this eternal abjuration of the quiescent feelings.
A few days after his ordination, Mr. Brainerd resolved on returning home to his Indians at the Forks of Delaware, but was detained by sickness till the 19th of June. Everything excited in his bosom pious sensations, and of this painful detention from his favorite employment he made the following sweet improvement. I often admired the goodness of God that he did not suffer me to proceed on my journey from this place, Elizabethtown, where I was so tenderly used, and to be sick by the way among strangers. God is very gracious to me in health and sickness, and intermingles much mercy with all my afflictions and toils. Enjoyed some sweetness in things divine, in the midst of my pain and weakness. Oh, that I could praise the Lord!
In three days he reached the place of his destination. The following extracts will be interesting to the pious reader, and will teach us how to feel and to pray for the missionaries of Jesus. Lord's Day, June 24th. I was scarce able to walk, however visited my Indians and took much pains to instruct them. But my mind was burdened with the weight of my work. My whole dependence was on God, who alone could make them willing to receive instruction. My heart was much engaged in sending up silent requests to God, even while I was speaking to them. Oh, that I could always go in the strength of the Lord!
To an eye of reason, everything that respects the conversion of the heathen is as dark as midnight, and yet I cannot but hope in God for the accomplishment of something glorious among them. My soul longed much for the advancement of the heathen. 26. I was much discouraged with the extreme difficulty of the work, yet God supported me, and though the work of their conversion appeared impossible with man, yet with God I saw all things were possible. My faith was much strengthened by observing the wonderful assistance God afforded Nehemiah and Ezra in reforming his people and re-establishing his ancient church. I was much assisted in prayer, especially for the poor heathen and those of my own charge, and hoped that God would bow the heavens and come down for their salvation.
It seemed to me there could be no impediment to obstruct that glorious work, seeing the living God, as I strongly hoped, was engaged for it. I continued solemnly lifting up my heart to God, that I might be more mortified to this world, that my soul might be taken up continually in the advancement of Christ's kingdom, and longed that God would purge me more, that I might be as a chosen vessel to bear His name among the heathen. Twenty-seventh. In the afternoon I rode several miles to see if I could procure any lands for the poor Indians, that they might live together, and be under better advantages for instruction. I had a deep sense of the difficulty of my work, and my soul relied wholly upon God for success, in the diligent and faithful use of means.
I saw with the greatest certainty that the arm of the Lord must be revealed for the help of these poor heathens, if ever they were delivered from the bondage of the powers of darkness. Twenty-eighth. Towards noon I wrote to the Indians, and while going my heart went up to God in prayer for them. I could freely tell God he knew the cause was not mine, but his own, and it would be for his own glory to convert the poor Indians. And blessed be God, I felt no desire of honor from the world as the instrument of it.
My soul was much solemnized in reading God's word, especially the ninth chapter of Daniel. I saw how God had called out his servants to prayer and made them wrestle with him when he designed to bestow any great mercy on his church. And I was ashamed of myself to think of my dullness and inactivity when there seemed to be so much to do for the upbuilding of Zion. Oh, how does Zion lie waste! I longed that the Church of God might be enlarged, and was enabled to pray in faith. My soul sensibly confided in God and was enabled to wrestle with Him. Afterwards, I went to a place of retirement and enjoyed assistance in prayer again, had a sense of my great need of divine help, and felt my soul sensibly depend on God.
Lord's Day, July 1st. After I came to the Indians, my mind was confused, and I felt nothing of that sweet reliance on God that my soul has been comforted with in days past. In the afternoon, I have felt still barren. When I began to preach, I seemed to myself to know nothing. And I have nothing to say to the Indians, but soon after I found a spirit of love and warmth and power to address the poor Indians, and God helped me to plead with them, to turn from all the vanities of the heathen to the living God. I am persuaded the Lord touched their consciences, for I never saw such a tension in them before. When I came away, I spent the whole time I was writing in prayer and praise to God. After I had rode two miles, it came into my mind to dedicate myself to God again, which I did with great solemnity and unspeakable satisfaction, especially giving up myself to Him anew in the work of the ministry.
And this I did without any exception or reserve, not in the least shrinking back from any difficulties that might attend this blessed work. I was most free, cheerful, and full in this dedication of myself. My whole soul cried, Lord, to Thee I dedicate myself. O, accept of me, and let me be thine for ever. Lord, I desire nothing more. O, come, come, Lord, accept a poor worm. Who have I in heaven but thee? And there is none upon earth that I desire besides thee. I was enabled to praise God with my whole soul that He had enabled me to consecrate all my powers to Him in this solemn manner. I rejoiced in my particular work as a missionary, rejoiced in my necessity of self-denial. And still continued to give up myself to God, praying incessantly every moment with sweet fervency.
My nature, being very weak of late, was now considerably overcome. My fingers grew very feeble so that I could scarcely stretch them out straight, and when lighted from my horse I could hardly walk, my joints seeming all to be loosened. But I felt abundant strength of the inner man. I preached to the white people, and God helped me much. Sundry of my poor Indians were so moved as to come to meeting also, and one appeared much concerned. Sixth. I am of late most of all concerned for ministerial qualifications and the conversion of the heathen. Last year I longed to be prepared for the word of glory, and speedily to depart out of this world. But of late my chief concern is for the conversion of the heathen, and for that end I long to live.
But, blessed be God, I have less desire to live for any of the pleasures of the world than ever I had. I long and love to be a pilgrim, and want grace to imitate the life, labors, and sufferings of St. Paul among the heathen. And when I long for holiness now, it is chiefly that thereby I may become an able minister of the New Testament, especially to the heathen. I spent two hours this morning in reading and prayer, and was in a watchful, tender frame, afraid of everything that might cool my affections and draw away my heart from God. Twenty-first. Towards night my burden respecting my work among the Indians began to increase much, and was aggravated by hearing sundry things that looked very discouraging, in particular that they intended to meet together the next day for an idolatrous feast and dance.
Then I began to be in anguish. I thought I must in conscience go and endeavor to break them up, and knew not how to attempt such a thing. However, I withdrew to prayer, hoping for strength from above. And in prayer I was exceedingly enlarged, and my soul was much drawn out. I pleaded with so much earnestness and importunity that when I rose from my knees I could scarcely walk straight. My joints were loosened, the sweat ran down my face and body, and nature seemed as if it would dissolve. I knew they were met together to worship devils, and not God, and this made me cry earnestly that God would appear and help me in my attempts to break up this idolatrous meeting. My soul pleaded long, and I thought God would go with me to vindicate His own cause, and thus I spent the evening praying incessantly that I might not be self-dependent, but have my whole dependence upon God.
What I passed through was inexpressible. All things here below vanished, and there appeared to be nothing of any importance to me, but holiness of heart in life, and the conversion of the heathen to God. All my cares, fears, and desires, which might be said to be of a worldly nature, disappeared, and were of little more importance than a puff of wind. I exceedingly longed that God would get to Himself a name among the heathen, and I appealed to Him with the greatest freedom that He knew I preferred Him above my chief joy. Indeed, I had no notion of joy from this world. I cared not where or how I lived or what hardships I went through, so that I could but gain souls to Christ. Lord's Day, 22nd.
When I waked, my soul was burdened with what seemed to be before me. I cried to God, Before I could get out of bed, as soon as I was dressed, I withdrew into the woods to pour out my soul to Him for assistance, and did with unspeakable freedom give up myself afresh to God. For life or death, for all hardships, He should call me, too, among the heathen, and felt as if nothing could discourage my hope from this blessed work. I had a strong hope that God would bow the heavens and come down, and when I was writing to the Indians, my heart was continually going up to God and hoping that God would make this the day of His power and grace amongst the poor Indians. When I came to them, I found them engaged in their frolic, but through divine goodness I got them to break up and attend my preaching, yet still there appeared nothing of the special power of God among them.
I preached again to them in the afternoon and observed they were more sober than before. But still saw nothing special among them, from whence Satan took occasion to buffet me with cursed suggestions. There is no God, or if there be, he is not able to convert the Indians, before they have more knowledge. I was very weak and weary, and my soul borne down with perplexity, but was determined still to wait upon God. His engagements about this time will appear from the account which he wrote to Mr. Pemberton, which, as it will continue the narrative, I will here transcribe. Quote, In July last, I heard of a number of Indians residing at a place called Kakasee Kachung, more than 30 miles westward from the place where I usually preach.
I visited them, though in order to reach them it was necessary to cross a hideous mountain, found about 30 persons, and proposed my desire of preaching to them. They readily complied, and I preached to them only twice, they being just then removing from this place, where they only live for the present, to Susquehanna River, where they belonged. While I was preaching, they appeared sober and attentive, and were somewhat surprised, having never before heard of such things. There were two or three who suspected that I had some ill design upon them, and urged that the white people had abused them and taken their lands from them, and therefore they had no reason to think that they were now concerned for their happiness, but on the contrary, that they designed to make them slaves, or get them on board their vessels, and make them fight with the people over the water, as they expressed it, meaning the French and Spaniards.
However, the most of them appeared very friendly and told me they were then going directly home to Susquehanna and desired I would make them a visit there, and manifested a considerable desire of farther instruction. This invitation gave me some encouragement in my great work and made me hope that God designed to open an effectual door to me for spreading the gospel among the poor heathen further westward."
His diary at this time represents him as dejected in mind and afflicted in body while he was with these Indians and actively engaged to promote their eternal happiness. He complains... I was weak and felt something disconsolate, yet could have no freedom in the thought of any other circumstances or business of life. All my desire was the conversion of the heathen, and all my hope was in God. God does not suffer me to please or comfort myself with hopes of seeing friends, returning to my dear acquaintance, and enjoying worldly comforts. On Thursday, he returned home exceedingly fatigued and spent, still in the same frame of mortification to the world and solicitous for the advancement of Christ's kingdom.
The two remaining days of the week he was most seriously indisposed, and on the Sabbath he was confined to his cottage. He was extremely ill for nearly a month and then gradually recovered. In his diary of the first and second weeks, we meet with these affecting lines. I am exercised with extreme faintness and sickness at my stomach, and my mind is as much disordered as my body, seeming to be stupid and without all kinds of affections, and yet perplexed to think that I live for nothing. That precious time rolls away, and I can do nothing but trifle. On Lord's Day, August 5, was still very poorly, but though very weak, I visited and preached to the poor Indians twice, and was strengthened vastly beyond my expectations.
And indeed the Lord gave me freedom and fervency in addressing them, and though I had not strength enough to stand, but was obliged to sit down the whole time. Towards night I was extremely weak, faint, sick, and full of pain. And I have continued much the same last week, through the most of this, it being now Friday, unable to engage in any business, frequently unable to pray in the family. I have neither strength to read, meditate, nor pray, and this perplexes my mind. It seemed like a man that has all his estate embarked in one small boat, unhappily going adrift down a swift current. The poor owner stands on shore and looks and laments his loss. But alas, though all seems to be adrift, and I stand and see it, I dare not lament, for this sinks my spirits more and aggravates my bodily disorders.
Oh, that God would pity my distressed state! Tuesday after his return, he wrote the following truly spiritual and affectionate letter to a special friend. Letter. Forks of Delaware, July 31st, 1744. Certainly the greatest The noblest pleasure of intelligent creatures must result from their acquaintance with the blessed God and with their own immortal souls. And oh, how divinely sweet is it to look into our own souls when we can find all our passions united and engaged in pursuit after God, our whole souls passionately breathing after conformity to Him and the full enjoyment of Him. Verily, there are no hours pass away with so much pleasure as those that are spent in communing with God in our own hearts.
Oh, how sweet is the spirit of devotion, a spirit of seriousness and divine solemnity, a spirit of gospel simplicity, love, tenderness. Oh, how desirable and how profitable to the Christian life is a spirit of holy watchfulness and godly jealousy over ourselves, when we are afraid of nothing so much as that we shall grieve and offend the blessed God. Whom we apprehend to be a father and friend, whom we then love and long to please. Surely this is a temper worthy of the highest ambition and closest pursuit of intelligent creatures. Oh, how greatly superior is the peace and satisfaction derived from these divine frames to that which we sometimes pursue in things impertinent and trifling. Our own bitter experience teaches us that in the midst of such laughter the heart is sorrowful.
And there is no true satisfaction but in God. But alas! How shall we obtain and retain this sweet spirit of religion? Let us follow the Apostles' direction in Philippians 2, verse 12, and labor upon the encouragement he there mentions. For it is God only can afford us this favor, and he will be sought, and it is fit we should wait upon him, for so rich a mercy. O may the God of all grace afford us the influences of His Spirit, and help us that we may, from our hearts, esteem it our greatest liberty and happiness, that whether we live, we may live to the Lord, or whether we die, we may die to the Lord, that in life and in death we may be His. I am in a very poor state of health, but through divine goodness I am not discontented.
I bless God for this retirement. I never was more thankful for anything than I have been of late for the necessity I am under of self-denial. I love to be a pilgrim and stranger in this wilderness. It seems most fit for such a poor, ignorant, worthless creature as I. I would not change my present mission for any other business in the whole world. I may tell you freely that God has, of late, given me great freedom and fervency in prayer, when I have been so weak and feeble that my nature seemed as if it would speedily dissolve. I feel as if my all was lost and I was undone if the poor heathen be not converted. I feel different from what I did when I saw you last, more crucified to all the enjoyments of life.
It would be very refreshing to me to see you here in this desert, especially in my most disconsolate hours, but I could be content never to see you or any of my friends again in this world if God would bless my labors to the conversion of the poor Indians. I have much that I could willingly communicate to you, which I must omit, till Providence gives us leave to see each other. In the meantime, I rest your obliged friend and servant, D. Brainerd. After this, he went a journey into New England and was absent from the Forks of Delaware about three weeks. On his return, he inscribed this grateful record on a page of his diary. Quote, What reason have I to bless God, who has preserved me in riding more than 420 miles, and has kept all my bones, that not one of them has been broken?
My health, likewise, is greatly recovered. Oh, that I could dedicate my all to God, this is all the return I can make to Him. End quote. On the Monday following, October 1st, he began to prepare for his journey to Susquehanna. Not that he had temporal affairs to settle or worldly business to arrange, but he had the divine blessing to implore. The welfare of the poor pagans he was about to visit was a concern too momentous not to interest his pious feelings, and the sense of his own insufficiency to save them from the wrath to come was too powerful an impression not to lead him to a throne of grace in their and his own behalf. This journey was not to be solitary as those which he had before taken.
In Mr. Byram, minister at a place called Roxiticus, About forty miles from his own residence, he found a profitable companion. October 2nd. I set out, he observes in his diary, on my journey, in company with my dear brother Byram and my interpreter and two chief Indians from the Forks of Delaware. We traveled about twenty-five miles and lodged in one of the last houses on our road, after which there was nothing but a hideous and howling wilderness. Third. We went on our way into the wilderness and found far the most difficult and dangerous traveling that ever any of us had seen. We had scarce anything else but lofty mountains, deep valleys, and hideous rocks to make our way through. However, I felt sweetness in divine things and had my mind intensely engaged in meditation.
Near night, my beast that I rode upon hung one of her legs in the rocks and fell down under me, but through divine goodness I was not hurt. However, she broke her leg, and being near thirty miles from any house, I saw nothing that could be done to preserve her life, and so was obliged to kill her and prosecute my journey on foot. Just at dark, we kindled a fire, cut up a few bushes, and made a shelter over our heads to save us from the frost, which was very hard. And committing ourselves to God, we lay down on the ground and slept quietly. The next day, they went forward on their journey, and at night took up their lodging in the woods as before, and on the day following, they arrived at the place of their destination.
Fifth. We arrived at Susquehanna River, at a place called Ophalumpong. Found there 12 Indian houses. After I had saluted the king in a friendly manner, I told him my business, and that my desire was to teach them Christianity. After some consultation, the Indians gathered, and I preached to them. And when I had done, I asked if they would hear me again. They replied they would consider it, and soon after sent me word that they would immediately attend if I would preach, which I did with much freedom. When I asked them again whether they would hear me further, they replied they would the next day. I was exceedingly sensible of the impossibility of doing anything for the poor heathen without special assistance, and my soul rested on God and left it to Him to do as He pleased in His own cause.
6th. I preached again to the Indians, and in the afternoon visited them from house to house, and invited them to come and hear me again the next day, and put off their hunting design till Monday. This night the Lord stood by me to encourage and strengthen my soul. I spent more than an hour in secret retirement, and was enabled to pour out my heart before God for the increase of grace in my soul, for ministerial endowments, and for success among the poor Indians. October 8th. I visited the Indians with a design to take my leave, supposing they would go out a-hunting early, but beyond my expectation and hope, they desired to hear me preach again. I gladly complied with their request and endeavored to answer their objections against Christianity.
Then they went away, and we spent the afternoon in reading and prayer, intending to go homeward early the next day. On his reception among the Indians, in his letter to Mr. Pemberton, he has the following remarks. Quote, The children that every individual person should concern himself with could not readily be persuaded to come and hear. But after much pains used with them for that purpose, some few ventured to come and stand at a distance. When I had preached to the Indians several times, some of them very frankly proposed what they had to object against Christianity, and so gave me a fair opportunity for using my best endeavors to remove from their minds those scruples and jealousies they labored under.
And when I had endeavored to answer their objections, some appeared much satisfied. I then asked the king if he was willing I should visit and preach to them again, if I should live to the next spring. He replied he should be heartily willing for his own part, and added he wished the young people would learn, etc. I then put the same question to the rest. Some answered they would be very glad, and none manifested any dislike to it. There were sundry other things in their behavior, with a comfortable and encouraging aspect, that upon the whole I could not but rejoice I had taken that journey among them, although it was attended with many difficulties and hardships. The method I used with them and the instructions I gave them, I am persuaded, were means, in some measure, to remove their heathenish jealousies and prejudices against Christianity, and I could not but hope the God of all grace was preparing their minds to receive the truth as it is in Jesus.
If this may be the happy consequence, I shall not only rejoice in my past labors and fatigues, but I shall trust also, be willing to spend and be spent, if I may thereby be instrumental. On Tuesday, October 9th, Mr. Brainerd and his companion left Susquehanna, and encountering the same hardships on their return, as in going, they at length arrived safe at home. And in his diary for October 12th, there is this memorandum. Friday, 12th. Wrote home to my lodging, where I poured out my soul to God and endeavored to bless Him for His abundant goodness to me in my late journey. I scarce ever enjoyed more health, and God marvelously and almost miraculously supported me under the fatigues of the way and traveling on foot.
Blessed be the Lord that preserves me in all my ways. The following are the most remarkable things in his diary at this period. Lord's Day, 14th. I was much confused and perplexed in my thoughts and almost discouraged, thinking I should never be able to preach anymore. However, I went to the place of public worship, lifting up my heart, and God was gracious to me and helped me to plead with Him for holiness and to use strong arguments with Him, drawn from the sufferings of Christ, for this very end, that men might be made holy. Afterwards, I was much assisted in preaching. I know not that God ever helped me to preach in a more close manner. Through the infinite goodness of God, I felt what I spake, and God enabled me to speak with uncommon clearness, and yet I was deeply sensible of my defects in preaching.
Blessed be the Lord for His mercy. In the evening I longed to be entirely alone, to bless God for help in extremity, and longed for greater degrees of holiness, that I might show my gratitude to God.
I felt a spirit of solemnity and watchfulness, and was afraid I should not live to and upon God. I longed for more intenseness and spirituality. In the evening I enjoyed sweet assistance in prayer, and thirsted and pleaded to be as holy as the blessed angels. Nineteenth. I had an abasing sense of my own unholiness, and felt my soul melt and mourn, that I had grieved a gracious God, who was still kind to me, notwithstanding all my unworthiness. My soul enjoyed a sweet season of sorrow that I had wronged that blessed God who was reconciled to me in His dear Son. My soul was now tender and devout and solemn, and I was afraid of nothing but sin, and afraid of that in every action and thought. 24.
Near noon I rode to my people, spent some time and prayed with them, felt the frame of a pilgrim on earth, longed much to leave this gloomy mansion.
I enjoyed a blessed season in prayer, was enabled to cry to God with a childlike spirit, enjoyed a sweet freedom, 26. In the morning my soul was melted with a sense of divine goodness to such a vile worm. I was delighted to lean upon God and place my whole trust in Him. My soul was exceedingly grieved for sin, and prized and longed after holiness. It wounded my heart deeply, yet sweetly, to think how I had abused a kind God. I longed to be perfectly holy that I might not grieve a gracious God. I longed for holiness more for this end than for my happiness' sake, and yet this was my greatest happiness, never more to dishonor, but always to glorify the blessed God. October 31st. I was sensible of my barrenness.
My soul failed when I remembered the fervency I had enjoyed. Oh, I thought, if I could but be spiritual, warm, heavenly-minded, and affectionately breathing after God, this would be better than life to me. My soul longed exceedingly for death, to be loosed from this dullness and made ever active in the service of God. I seemed to live for nothing and to do no good, and oh, the burden of such a life. Oh, death! Death, my kind friend, hasten and deliver me from dull mortality, and make me spiritual and vigorous to eternity. November 1st. I felt life and longings after God. I longed to be always solemn, devout, and heavenly-minded, and was afraid to leave off praying lest I should again lose a sense of the sweet things of God.
Second. I was exercised sorely with some things that I thought myself most of all freed from. And thus I have ever found it. When I have thought the battle was over and the conquest was gained, and so let down my watch, the enemy has risen up and done me the greatest injury." In the beginning of November, Mr. Brainerd wrote the letter to which we have several times alluded, in which he relates to Mr. Pemberton his various journeys and success, from the time of his becoming a missionary down to his return from Susquehanna. And this is the most suitable place to introduce the account which that letter contains of the great difficulties which are the powerful obstacles to the diffusion of divine truth among uncivilized idolaters.
In the first place, their minds are filled with prejudices against Christianity on account of the vicious lives and unchristian behavior of some that are called Christians. These not only set before them the worst examples, but some of them take pains, expressly in words, to dissuade them from becoming Christians, foreseeing that if these should be converted to God, the hope of their unlawful gain would be lost. Again, these poor heathens are extremely attached to the customs, traditions, and fabulous notions of their fathers. And this one seems to be the foundation of all their other motives, viz., that it was not the same God made them who made the white people, but another who commanded them to live by hunting, etc., and not conform to the customs of the white people.
Hence, when they are desired to become Christians, they frequently reply that they will live as their fathers lived, and go to their fathers when they die. And if the miracles of Christ and his apostles be mentioned to prove the truths of Christianity, they also mentioned sundry miracles which their fathers have told them were anciently wrought among the Indians, and which Satan makes them believe were so. They are much attached to idolatry, frequently making feasts which they eat in honor to some unknown beings, who they suppose speak to them in their dreams, promising them success in hunting and other affairs, in case they will sacrifice to them. They oftentimes also offer their sacrifices to the spirits of the dead, who they suppose stand in need of favors from the living, and yet are in such a state as that they can well reward all the offices of kindness that are shown them, and they impute all their calamities to the neglect of these sacrifices.
Furthermore, they are much awed by those among themselves who are called powwows, who are supposed to have a power of enchanting or poisoning them to death, or at least in a very distressing manner, and they apprehend it would be their sad fate to be thus enchanted in case they should become Christians. Lastly, the manner of their living is likewise a great disadvantage to the design of their being Christianized. They are almost continually roving from place to place, and it is but rare that an opportunity can be had with some of them for their instruction. There is scarce any time of the year wherein the men can be found generally at home, except about six weeks before and in the season of planting their corn, and about two months in the latter part of the summer, from the time they begin to roast their corn until it is fit to gather in.
As to the hardships that necessarily attend a mission among them, the fatigue of frequent journeying in the wilderness, the unpleasantness of a mean and hard way of living, and the great difficulty of addressing a people of a strange language, these I shall at present pass over in silence, designing what I have already said of difficulties attending this work. Not for the discouragement of any, but rather for the incitement of all who love the appearing and kingdom of Christ, to frequent the throne of grace with constant supplications, that the heathen End quote.
After writing this letter, Mr. Brainerd was called to New York to a meeting of the Presbytery and was gone from home nearly a fortnight. His journey was very fatiguing, and he was often exposed to the severest cold. Through his bodily exertions and the unfavorable weather in which he traveled, his constitution received a most serious shock, and on his return he was, for several days, detained by illness in New Jersey. When he left Roxidicus for Delaware River, which was on Thursday, November 23rd, he struggled with very great difficulties, an account of which he thus relates. November 22nd. I came on my way to Delaware River, though much disordered with a cold and pain in my head. About six at night I lost my way in the wilderness and wandered over rocks and mountains, down hideous steeps, through swamps, and most dreadful and dangerous places, and the night being dark I was greatly exposed.
I was much pinched with cold and distressed with an extreme pain in my head, attended with sickness at my stomach, so that every step I took was distressing to me. I had little hope but that I must lie in the woods all night. But about nine o'clock I found a house and was kindly entertained. Thus I have frequently been exposed, but God has hitherto preserved me. Blessed be His name. Such fatigues and hardships serve to wean me from the earth, and will make heaven the sweeter. Formerly, when I was thus exposed, I was ready to please myself with the thoughts of a comfortable house, a warm fire, and other outward comforts. But now these have less place in my heart, through the grace of God, and my eye is more to God for comfort.
In this world I expect tribulation, and it does not now appear strange to me. I do not, in seasons of difficulty, flatter myself that it will be much better hereafter, but rather think how much worse it might be. How much greater trials others of God's children have endured, and how much greater are yet perhaps reserved for me. Blessed be God that He makes the thoughts of my journey's end a great comfort to me under my sharpest trials, and scarce ever lets these thoughts be attended with time.
From this time, November 1774, he continued at Delaware till the following month in the next year, actively engaged in discharging the various duties of his arduous employment, preaching frequently And visiting his Indians from house to house and from day to day. His exercises of mind during this period were like those before recorded. Sometimes he was greatly dejected, and at others Friday, November 23rd. Then visited another house where one was dead and laid out, looked on the corpse, and longed that my time might come to depart, that I might be with Christ. Within the next twelve days he spent much time in hard labor with others to make for himself a little cottage to live in by himself. December 6th Having now a happy opportunity of being retired in a house of my own, I set apart this day for secret prayer and fasting, to implore the blessing of God on myself, on my poor people, on my friends, and on the Church of God.
And now God was pleased to give me a discovery of the plague of my own heart, more affecting than I have of late had. And especially I saw my sinfulness in this, that when God had withdrawn Himself, instead of living and dying in pursuit of Him, I have been disposed to one of these two things, either to yield an unbecoming respect to some earthly objects, as if happiness were to be derived from them, or to be secretly forward and impatient and unsuitably desirous of death. That which often drove me to this impatient desire of death was a despair of doing good in life. But now God made me sensible of my sin and enabled me to cry to Him for forgiveness. Yet this was not all I wanted, for my soul appeared exceedingly polluted, and I wanted to be purified by the blood of sprinkling that cleanseth from all sin.
In this I was enabled to pray for faith. I enjoyed much more intenseness, fervency, and spirituality than I expected. God was better to me than my fears. I was enabled to persevere in prayer till the evening. I saw so much need of divine help in every respect that I knew not how to leave off and had forgot that I needed food. Lord's Day, December 9th. I preached both parts of the day at a place called Greenwich, about ten miles from my own house. In the first discourse I had scarce any warmth. In the intermission season I got alone among the bushes and cried to God, being in great anguish, that I could not address souls with more compassion and tender affection. Which I saw I could not get of myself any more than I could make a world.
In the latter exercise, blessed be the Lord, I had some fervency, both in prayer and preaching, and in the application I was enabled to address precious souls with affection, tenderness, and importunity. The Spirit of God was there. The effects were apparent, tears running down many cheeks. Twelfth, I was very weak, but assisted in secret prayer and enabled with sweetness to cry, Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly. My soul longed for God, the living God. Oh, how delightful it is to pray under such influences! How much better than one's necessary food! I had at this time no disposition to eat, though late in the morning, for earthly food appeared wholly tasteless. I visited and preached to the Indians in the afternoon, but under much dejection.
I found my interpreter under some concern for his soul, which was some comfort to me. I longed greatly for his conversion and poured out my soul to God for him, and was enabled to leave all with God. Thirteenth. I spent the day in fasting and prayer to implore the divine blessing, more especially on my poor people, in particular for my interpreter, and three or four more under some concern for their souls. But in the evening it seemed as if I had need to pray for nothing so much as for the pardon of sins committed in the day past. The sins I had most sense of were pride and wandering thoughts. Yet after all my sorrows, I trust this day and the exercises of it have been for my good, and taught me more of my weakness without Christ than I knew before.
Lord's Day, December 16th. I was so overwhelmed with dejection that I knew not how to live. I longed for death exceedingly. My soul was sunk into deep waters, and the floods were ready to drown me. I was so much oppressed that my soul was in a kind of horror. I had no distressing doubt about my own state, but would have cheerfully ventured, as far as I could know, into eternity. While I was going to preach to the Indians, my soul was in anguish. I despaired of doing any good. But at last I insisted on the evidences of Christianity from the miracles of Christ, and God helped me to make a close application to those that refused to believe. I was encouraged to find that God enabled me to be faithful once more.
Then I went and preached to another company of them, but was very weary and faint. In the evening I was something refreshed and enabled to pray and praise God with composure and affection. I was now willing to live and longed to do more for God than my weak state of body would admit of. I can do all things through Christ that strengthens me, and I am willing to spend and be spent in His service. I went to the Indians and discoursed to them near an hour, and at last God helped me to speak with warmth. My interpreter also was amazingly assisted, and I doubt not, but the Spirit of God was upon him. And presently most of the grown persons were much affected, and the tears ran down their cheeks, and one old man, I suppose an hundred years old, was so affected that he wept and seemed convinced of the importance of what I taught them.
I stayed with them a considerable time, exhorting them, and came away, lifting up my heart to God, and encouraged my interpreter to strive to enter in at the straight gate. January 9, 1745. In the morning God was pleased to remove that gloom which has of late oppressed my mind, and gave me freedom and sweetness in prayer. I was encouraged to plead for grace for myself, and mercy for my poor Indians, and was sweetly assisted in my intercessions with God for others. Those things that of late seemed almost impossible now appear not only possible, but easy. My soul so much delighted to continue instant in prayer at this blessed season that I had no desire for my necessary food. I even dreaded leaving off praying at all lest I should lose this spirituality and this blessed thankfulness.
I felt now quite willing to live and undergo all trials that might remain for me in a world of sorrow, but still longed for heaven, that I might glorify God in a perfect manner. Fourteenth. I spend this day under a great degree of bodily weakness and disorder. It pains me that I live so much of my time for nothing. I long to do much in little time, and if it might be the Lord's will to finish my work speedily in this tiresome world. I am sure I do not desire to live for anything in this tiresome world, and through grace I am not afraid to look the king of terrors in the face. I know I shall be afraid if God leaves me, and therefore I think it is always my duty to lay in for that solemn hour. But for a considerable time my soul has rejoiced to think of death in its nearest approaches, and even when I have been very weak and seemed nearest eternity.
Not unto me, but to God be the glory. I feel that which convinces me, that if God do not enable me to maintain a holy dependence upon Him, death will be a terror. But at present, I must say, I long to depart and to be with Christ. When I am in a sweet, resigned frame of soul, I am willing to tarry in a world of sorrow. I am willing to be from home as long as God sees fit. But when I want the influence of this day, I am willing to be from home as long as God sees fit. February 11th. I know not that ever death appeared more real to me, or that ever I saw myself in the condition of a dead corpse laid out and dressed for a lodging in the silent grave so evidently as at this time. And yet I felt exceedingly comfortable.
My mind was composed and calm, and death appeared without a sting. I never felt such a universal mortification to all created objects. Oh, how great and solemn a thing it appeared to die! How it lays the greatest honor in the dust! And how vain and trifling did the riches, honors, and pleasures of the world appear. I could not, I dare not, so much as think of any of them. For death, death, solemn though not frightful, death appeared at the door. I could not see myself laid out and enclosed in my coffin and put down in the cold grave without terror. I spent the evening in conversing with a Christian friend, and it was a comfortable evening to us both. What are friends? What are comforts? What are sorrows?
What are distresses? The time is short. It remains that they that weep be as though they wept not, and they which rejoice as though they rejoice not, for the fashion of this world passeth away. O come, Lord Jesus, come quickly. Fourteenth. I spent the day in writing on a divine subject, enjoyed health and freedom in my work, had a solemn sense of death, as I have indeed every day this week. What I felt on Monday last has been abiding ever since. Fifteenth. I had a sweet sense of the free grace of the Gospel. My soul was encouraged, warmed, and quickened, and my desires drawn out after God in prayer, being afraid of losing so sweet a guest as I then entertained. I longed to proclaim the grace I then meditated upon to the world of sinners.
Oh, how quick and powerful is the word of the blessed God! Lord's Day, February 17th. I preached to the white people, my interpreter being absent, in the wilderness, upon the sunny side of a hill. I had a considerable assembly consisting of people that lived, at least many of them, not less than thirty miles asunder. I discoursed to them from John chapter 7 verse 37. Jesus stood and cried, saying, If any man thirst, etc. In the afternoon it pleased God to grant me great freedom and fervency in my discourse, and I was enabled to imitate the example of Christ who stood and cried. I think I was scarce ever enabled to offer the free grace of God to perishing sinners with more freedom and plainness.
Lord's Day, February 24th. My interpreter being absent, I knew not how to perform my work among the Indians. However, I rode to the Indians and got a Dutchman to interpret, though he was but poorly qualified. Afterwards, I came and preached to a few white people from John, chapter 6, verse 67. Oh, the free grace of Christ that He seasonably minds His people of their danger of backsliding, and invites them to persevere in their adherence to Himself. I saw that backsliding souls might return and welcome to Him immediately without anything to recommend them, notwithstanding all their former backslidings. And I felt solemn and devout, resting on free grace for assistance, acceptance, and peace of conscience.
During the three months in which he labored at the Forks of Delaware, Mr. Brainerd received little encouragement. No visible effects followed his ministrations, and he seriously thought of quitting that unfavorable station for a residence nearer the Indians at Susquehanna River. This design he mentioned to some friends, and from them he received flattering testimonies of their affection. This melted his heart. It was surprising to his humble spirits that any human being could value a creature which he thought to be so worthless. How sweet is the influence of divine grace! And with what unaffected simplicity does a real Christian manifest that he esteems others better than himself? Humility, like the violet, is a lovely flower.
It grows low, has a dark hue, but it diffuses the sweetest fragrance. Before Mr. Brainerd executed his purpose, he resolved once more to visit New England. He felt that his spirit sunk under difficulties, to which no strength was equal, and he imagined their weight would be immediately diminished could he obtain a companion who would labor with him. who would aid his exertions, mingle in his joys, and sympathize with him in his sorrows. But he felt that there was one powerful obstacle in the way, to prevent the gratification of that which he so earnestly wished. That was the want of money. Though powerful, he did not think it insuperable, and he therefore prepared on the 6th of March to undertake a journey for the purpose, as he expresses it, quote, of raising some money among Christian friends in order to support a colleague with me in the wilderness, I having now spent two years in a very solitary manner, that we might be together as Christ sent out His disciples two and two."
For five weeks, he was indefatigably employed in accomplishing this object. He first went into various parts of New Jersey, then to New York, from thence into New England, and then he returned to New Jersey. Arribing at home on April 13th. Scarcely had he been at the Forks of Delaware a week before he undertook another journey. He went to Philadelphia to engage the governor there to use his interest with the chief man of the Six Nations, with whom he maintained a strict friendship, that he would give him leave to live at Susquehanna and instruct the Indians that are within their territories.
The Indians at Susquehanna are a mixed company of many nations speaking various languages, and a few of them properly of the Six Nations. But yet, the country having formerly been conquered by the Six Nations, they claim the land, and the Susquehanna Indians are a kind of vassals to them. End footnote. On his return, he entered in his diary his experience. Lord's Day, April 21st. In the season of communion, I had comfortable apprehensions of the blissful communion of God's people when they shall meet at their Father's table for His kingdom. In the afternoon, I preached abroad from Revelation 14, verse 4. These are they that follow the Lamb, etc. God was pleased to give me great freedom and clearness, but not so much warmth as before.
However, there was a most amazing attention in the whole assembly, and as I was informed afterwards, this was a sweet season to many. Twenty-third. I returned home to the Forks of Delaware, enjoyed some sweet meditations on the road, and was enabled to lift up my heart to God in prayer and praise. Twenty-sixth. I felt a spirit of mortification to the world in a very great degree. Afterwards, I was enabled to rely on God sweetly for all things pertaining to life and godliness. In the evening, I was visited by a dear Christian friend, with whom I spent an hour or two in conversation on the very soul of religion. There are many with whom I can talk about religion, but alas, I find few with whom I can talk religion itself.
But blessed be the Lord, there are some that love to feed on the kernel rather than the shell. The next day he went to the Irish settlement about fifteen miles distant, where he spent the Sabbath and preached with some considerable assistance. On Monday he returned very weak to his own lodgings.
I was scarce able to walk about and was obliged to betake myself to the bed much of the day, being neither able to read, meditate, nor pray, and having none to discourse with in this wilderness. Oh, how heavily does time pass away, when I can do nothing to any good purpose. May 2nd. In the evening, being a little better in health, I walked into the woods and enjoyed a sweet season of meditation and prayer. My thoughts run upon Psalm chapter...
I shall be satisfied when I awake with thy likeness. And it was indeed a precious text to me.
I longed to preach to the whole world, and it seemed to me they must needs all be melted in hearing such precious truths as I had then a view and relish of. Blessed be the Lord, that in my late and present weakness my mind is not gloomy as at some other times. Seventh, I spent the day chiefly in making preparation for a journey into the wilderness. I was still weak and concerned how I should perform so difficult a journey. I spent some time in prayer for the divine blessing, but wanted bodily strength to spend the day in fasting and prayer. Having made every necessary arrangement, he proceeded on March the 8th to glorify his Redeemer in carrying the gospel to the outcast and those that were ready to perish, and began his second long and dismal journey to Susquehanna.
The hardships and dangers which his interpreter and he encountered and escaped in the wilderness are almost incredible. Once he was overtaken with a northeasterly storm, and frequently he slept on the cold ground without a covering. The consequence of this was an ague with extreme pains in the head and bowels, and a great evacuation of blood. None but such a spirit as Brainerd's could have persevered amidst so many afflictions and trials, but he rose superior to them all. He preached wherever he had an opportunity. No sense of danger could deter him from discharging that which he felt to be an imperious duty, and the performance of all which was, in his view, more than a compensation for all his discouragements and distresses.
On the 30th of May, after having rowed 340 miles and labored with intense zeal, he came home weak and emaciated, the mere shadow of a man. Yet, on the 7th of the next month, he traveled another 50 miles to assist at a sacramental occasion. As soon as he returned, he began to meditate a visit to a place called Cross Weeksung, and on June 18th, he commenced his journey. Brainerd never indulged his imagination with visionary schemes of usefulness, never wasted his days in figuring to himself what might be done and what he would accomplish at some future time. But his plans were always formed to be executed. As soon as drawn, they were acted upon. When he began this journey, his body was very feeble, his mind dark and harassed with discouragement.
He had preached and conversed with a view to enlighten the poor savages, to whom he devoted his labors almost every day. At least he embraced every opportunity which presented itself, without ever consulting his own ease or health, and he had traveled on horseback and on foot some thousands of miles, through the most dreary regions and in the most unfavorable weather, with scarcely any prospect of success. Yet he was not to be intimidated. He was determined to labor while he had life, to spend and be spent in his Master's work. He knew nothing but Jesus Christ and Him crucified, and when brought in competition with the excellency of this knowledge, he counted all things but dung and dross. What will not the love of Christ accomplish?
Animated by this heavenly principle, the feeblest mortal will rise above mortality and exhibit miracles of fortitude, magnanimity, courage, and perseverance. It is only this principle which can reconcile the ministers and the missionaries of the cross to incessant disappointment, and which will lead them to derive from disappointment itself new motives for unwearied and increased exertions. The Savior well knew the difficulties which the Apostle Peter must encounter in fulfilling his apostolic mission. And before he sent him forth, he asked, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me? And unless Brainerd could have answered this question aright, he would soon have abandoned a station and an employment which promised him nothing but poverty, hardships, and an untimely grave.
But the love of Christ constrained him, and notwithstanding, he had, for two years, almost labored in vain, compassion for perishing souls, a portion of that divine affection which led Jesus Christ to the accursed tree. And which would not suffer him to come down from the cross, made him resolve, through standing on the shore of a sea of dangers, to go forward.
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8 07 - Chapter VII, part 1 41:47
Mr. Brainerd's reception at Crossweek sung, his preaching, his journeys, his amazing success, an abridgment from his journal and extracts from his private diary, his illness and return from his last journey to Sassuahana. In the book of human life there are generally a few bright pages, and it is now the pleasing task of the biographer of Brainerd to record events the most delightful and satisfactory. Hitherto we have seen him the pious missionary, going forth weeping, bearing precious seed. But now the smile of joy lightens up his countenance, the days of his mourning are ended, and his reception and success at Cross Week Sung abundantly prove that the conversion of untutored, uncivilized men to Christianity by the simple means of preaching is not an impossible nor a wild and imaginary thing.
The Gospel, among bond and free, the civilized and barbarous, when accompanied with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven, is the power of God unto salvation. The sons of worldly wisdom, who take only a superficial glance of the subject, who judge of Christianity as a mere human system, exclaim, quote, civilize before you attempt to evangelize, end quote. But from the success of Brainerd among the American savages, it appears that instruction in the Christian religion is the best and most effectual means of civilization. And as to the difficulties of teaching this religion to barbarians, it was found equally difficult to teach it to polished in Athens and learned in Rome. Christ was crucified by a civilized people, and so were his apostles and first evangelists.
Divine influence is, at all times, and in all circumstances, absolutely necessary to render the preaching of the gospel successful in the conversion of souls, and if this be withheld, whether in Britain or in Africa, the carnal mind, savage or civilized, will be enmity against God. Like Paul, the missionaries and ministers of Christ, "...are debtors to the Greeks and to the barbarians, both to the wise and to the unwise." And while this command and promise stand on record, "...go ye forth and preach the gospel to every creature, and lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world," the outward circumstances of men can never abrogate a law which provides against every discouragement. Duty is plain, and difficulties should not be considered.
They must smooth themselves away before the agency of the Holy Spirit, and missionaries should not tremble at the prospect of what they conceive to be insurmountable barriers, for, quote, he can add wings when he commands to fly, end quote. The crying sin of Christians in ages that are past has been that they have conferred with flesh and blood and staggered at the promise of God through unbelief. And it will be well if the blood of souls be not required at our hands, quote, deliver thy servants from blood guiltiness, O Lord, end quote. When Mr. Brainerd arrived at Cross Week Sung, he found but few persons, and perceived that the Indians in those parts were very much scattered, there being not more than two or three families in a place, and these small settlements, six, ten, fifteen, twenty, and thirty miles from the spot which he had chosen, on which to commence his labors.
To those few, however, who were there at the time he preached, they appeared while disposed, and when he informed them that he was willing to preach to them again the next day, the women, for he had no male hearers, like the woman of Samaria, seemed desirous that others might see the man that told them what they had done in their lives past, and the misery that attended their idolatrous ways, and they readily set out and traveled ten or fifteen miles in order to give notice to some of their friends at that distance. It will be interesting to furnish the reader, at one view, with his private experience and public labors and success. I shall therefore present them in connected relation, blending the most important parts of his diary and journal, and interspersing, now and then, a few lines to give information respecting his removals from place to place.
June 20. Towards night, I preached to the Indians again and had more hearers than before. In the evening I enjoyed peace and serenity of mind, composure and comfort in prayer, and was enabled to lift up my head with joy under an apprehension that my redemption draws nigh. O blessed be God that there remains a rest to His poor weary people. Twenty-first. I was refreshed in secret prayer, but saw myself a poor worthless creature without wisdom to direct or strength to help myself. Blessed be God that lays me under a happy necessity of living upon Himself. Twenty-second. About noon I rode to the Indians again, and near night preached to about thirty of them. I found my body much strengthened, and was enabled to speak with abundant plainness and warmth.
And the power of God evidently attended the word, so that sundry persons were brought under great concern for their souls, and made to shed many tears, and to wish for Christ to save them. My soul was much refreshed and quickened in my work, and I could not but spend much time with them, in order to open both their misery and remedy. While riding, before I came to the Indians, I was enabled to cry to God almost incessantly. In the evening, also, I found the consolations of God were not small. I was then willing to live, and in some respects desirous of it, that I might do something for the kingdom of Christ, and yet death appeared pleasant, so that I was in a strait between the two. I am often weary of this world, but it is desirable to be drawn, rather than driven out of it.
Lord's Day, June 23rd. I preached to the Indians and spent the day with them. Their numbers still increased, and all with one consent seemed to rejoice in my coming among them. Not a word of opposition was heard from any, although in times past they had been quite opposite to anything of that nature. Twenty-fourth. I preached to the Indians at their desire and upon their own notion. To see poor pagans desirous of hearing the gospel of Christ animated me to discourse with them, although I was very weak and my spirits much exhausted. They attended with their greatest seriousness and diligence, and there was some concern apparent among them. Twenty-seventh, I preached to the Indians again. Their number now amounted to about forty persons.
Their solemnity and attention still continued, and a considerable concern for their souls became very apparent among sundry of them. Twenty-eighth, the Indians, being now gathered a considerable number of them from their several distant habitations, requested me to preach twice a day to them, being desirous to hear as much as they could while I was with them. I cheerfully complied, and could not but admire the goodness of God, who had inclined them to inquire after the way of salvation. Twenty-ninth. I preached twice to the Indians, and could not but wonder at their seriousness and the strictness of their attention. Blessed be God that He has inclined their ears to hear. And oh, how refreshing it is to me to see them attend with such uncommon diligence and affection.
I likewise saw the hand of God making provision for their subsistence together, in order to their being instructed. For this day and the day before, with only walking a little way from the place of our daily meeting, they killed three deer, which were a seasonable supply for their wants, and without which they could not have subsisted together in order to attend the means of grace. Lord's Day, June 30th. I preached twice this day also, and observed more concern and affection among the poor heathens than ever. So that they even constrained me to tarry longer with them, although my constitution was exceedingly worn out, and my health much impaired by the late fatigues and labors, and especially by my late journey to Susquehanna.
July 1st. I preached twice to a very serious and attentive assembly who had now learned to attend the worship of God with Christian decency. There were now between forty and fifty persons of them present, old and young. I spent some time in discoursing with them in private, inquiring what they remembered of the great truths that had been taught to them. It was amazing to see how they had received and retained the instructions given them, and what a measure of knowledge some of them had acquired in a few days. Second, I was obliged to leave these Indians at Cross Week Sung, thinking it my duty, as soon as health would admit, to visit those at the Forks of Delaware. When I came to take leave of them, they all earnestly inquired when I would come again, and expressed a great desire of being further instructed, and of their own accord agreed that when I should come again they would all meet and live together during my continuance with them, and that they would do their utmost endeavors to gather all the other Indians in those parts that were farther remote.
And when I parted, one told me with many tears she wished God would change her heart, and another that she wanted to find Christ. And an old man that had been one of their chiefs wept bitterly. I then promised them to return as speedily as my health and business elsewhere would admit, and felt not a little concerned at parting, lest good impressions, then apparent upon them, might wear off. Afterwards I rode to Brunswick, near forty miles, and lodged there. I felt my heart draw out after God in prayer almost all the afternoon. And in the evening could not help crying to God for these poor Indians, and after I went to bed my heart continued to go out to God for them until I dropped asleep. He was now so worn out by constant preaching that he found it necessary to give himself some relaxation.
He spent, therefore, about a week in New Jersey, visiting several ministers, and performing some necessary business. And though he was very weak in body, yet he seems to have been strong in spirit. On July 12th, he arrived at his own house in the Forks of Delaware, continuing still free from melancholy, and from day to day enjoyed freedom and refreshment. Lord's Day, July 14th. I discoursed to the Indians twice, several of whom appeared convinced of their sin and misery, so that they wept much the whole time of divine service. Afterwards, I discoursed to a number of white people then present. Eighteenth. I longed to spend the little inch of time I have in the word for God, felt a spirit of seriousness, tenderness, and devotion, and wished to spend the whole night in prayer and communion with God.
Nineteenth. In the evening I walked abroad for prayer and meditation, and enjoyed composure and freedom in these sweet exercises, especially in meditation on Revelation 3, verse 12, Him that overcometh will I make a pillar in the temple of my God, etc. This was a delightful theme. Oh, when shall I go no more out from the service and enjoyment of my dear Lord? Lord, hasten the blessed day. Lord's Day, 21st. I preached to the Indians first, then to a number of white people, and in the afternoon to the Indians again. Divine truths seemed to make very considerable impressions upon several of them, and caused the tears to flow freely. Afterwards, I baptized my interpreter and his wife, who were the first I baptized among the Indians.
They are both persons of some experimental knowledge in religion, have both been awakened to a solemn concern for their souls, and brought to a sense of their misery and undoneness, and have both been comforted with divine consolations. It may perhaps be satisfactory that I should give some relation of my interpreter's experience since he has been with me. When I first employed him in the beginning of summer, 1744, he was well fitted for his work in regard of his acquaintance with the Indian and English language, and in regard of his desire that the Indians should conform to the customs and manners of the English. But he seemed to have no impression of religion, and in that respect was very unfit for his work, being incapable of understanding and communicating to others many things of importance, so that I labored under great disadvantages in addressing the Indians for want of his having an experimental acquaintance with divine truths.
And at times I was much discouraged when I observed that divine truths made little or no impression upon him for many weeks together. He indeed behaved soberly, Although before he had been a hard drinker, and seemed honestly engaged as far as he was capable in the performance of his work, and especially he was very desirous that the Indians should conform to the customs of the Christian world, but still seemed to have no concern about his own soul. Near the latter end of July, 1744, I preached to an assembly of white people with freedom and fervency, at which time he was present and somewhat awakened. So that the next day he discoursed freely with me about his spiritual concerns and gave me an opportunity to use farther endeavors to fasten the impressions upon his mind.
I could indeed plainly perceive after this that he addressed the Indians with more concern and fervency. But these impressions seemed to decline until, in the fall of the year following, he fell into a weak state of body. At this season, divine truth took hold of him and made deep impressions on his mind. He was brought under great concern for his soul, and was burdened from day to day. His trouble prevailed until at length his sleep departed from him, and he had little rest day or night, but walked about under great pressure of mind, and appeared like another man to his neighbors, who could not but observe his behavior with wonder. After he had been some time striving for mercy, he says, there seemed to be an impassable mountain before him.
He was pressing towards heaven, but his way was hedged up with thorns, and he could not stir an inch farther. He looked this way and that way, but could find no way at all. He felt it signified just nothing at all to strive and struggle any more. And here, he says, he gave over striving, and felt that it was a gone case with him as to his own power, and all his attempts were, and forever would be, vain and fruitless. He knew, he said, he was not guilty of some wicked actions as others were guilty of. He had not been used to steal, quarrel, and murder, the latter of which is common among the Indians. He likewise knew that he had done many things that were right. But still his cry was that he had never done one good thing, meaning that he had never done anything from a right principle and with a right view, though he had done many things that were materially good.
And now I thought, said he, that I must sink down to hell, that there was no hope for me, because I never could do anything that was good, and if God let me alone never so long, and I should try never so much, still I should do nothing but what is bad. There was one thing more in his view of things that was very remarkable. He not only saw what a miserable state he himself was in, but he saw the world around him were in the same perishing circumstances. And this he saw clearly. As if he now awaked out of sleep, or had a cloud taken from before his eyes. He saw that the life he had lived was the way to eternal death, that he was now on the brink of endless misery, and when he looked around he saw multitudes of others who had lived the same life with himself, had no more goodness than he, and yet dreamed that they were safe enough as he had formerly done.
After he had been for some time in this condition, sensible of the impossibility of helping himself, then, he says, it was borne in upon his mind as if it had been audibly spoken, there is hope, there is hope. Whereupon his soul seemed to rest and be in some measure satisfied, though he had no considerable joy, neither can he remember distinctly any views he had of Christ, or give any clear account of his acceptance through him. But these exercises of soul were followed by a great change, so that it might justly be said he was become another man. He was much altered, and even the world could not but admire what had befallen him to make so great a change in his temper, discourse, and behavior.
And especially there was a surprising alteration in his public performances. He now addressed the Indians with admirable fervency, and scarce knew when to leave off, and sometimes when I had concluded my discourse and was returning homeward, he would tarry behind to repeat and inculcate what had been spoken. His change is abiding, and his life unblemished to this day. Though it is now more than six months since he experienced it, in which space he has been as much exposed to strong drink as possible in diverse places, and yet has never discovered any desire after it. He seems to have a very considerable experience of spiritual exercise and discourses freely of the conflicts and consolation of a real Christian.
His heart echoes to the soul humbling doctrines of grace, and he never appears better pleased than when he hears of the absolute sovereignty of God and the salvation of sinners in a way of mere free grace. He has likewise of late had more satisfaction respecting his own state, has been much enlivened and insisted in his own work, so that he has been a great comfort to me. And upon strict observation of his Christian temper and unblemished behavior for so considerable a time, I think I have reason to hope that he is created anew in Christ Jesus to good works. His name is Moses Tinda Tautami. He is about fifty years of age and pretty well acquainted with the notions and customs of his countrymen, and so is the better able to expose them.
He has already been, and I trust will yet be, a blessing to other Indians. July 26th. In the evening, God was pleased to help me in prayer beyond what I have experienced for some time, especially for the enlargement of Christ's kingdom and for the conversion of my poor people. My soul relied on God for the accomplishment of that great work. Oh, how sweet were the thoughts of death to me at this time! How I longed to be with Christ, to be employed in the glorious work of angels, and with an angel's freedom, vigor, and delight! And yet, how willing was I to stay a while on earth! That I might do something, if the Lord pleased, for His interest. My soul longed for the ingathering of the poor heathen, and I cried to God for them most willingly and heartily.
This was a sweet season. I had a lively taste of heaven, and a temper suited in some measure to the entertainments of it. My soul was grieved to leave the place, but my body was weak and worn out. I longed that the remaining part of my life might be filled up with more fervency and activity in the things of God. O the inward peace, composure, and godlike serenity of such a frame! Heaven must needs differ from this only in degree and not in kind. Lord's Day, July 28th. I preached again and perceived my people more thoughtful than ever. I was told by some that seeing my interpreter and his wife baptized made them more concerned than anything they had ever seen or heard. There was indeed a considerable appearance of divine power among them at the time that ordinance was administered.
July 30th. I discoursed to a number of my people and gave them particular advice and direction, being now about to leave them for the present in order to renew my visits to the Indians at New Jersey. They were very attentive and earnestly desirous to know when I designed to return. On July 31st, he set out on his return to Cross Week Sung and arrived there the next day. In his way, he had longing desires that he might come to the Indians in the fullness of the blessing of the gospel of Christ, attended with a sense of his own great weakness, dependence, and worthlessness. August 2nd. In the evening I retired, and my soul was drawn out in prayer to God, especially for my poor people, to whom I had sent word to gather together, that I might preach to them the next day.
I was much enlarged in praying for their conversion, and scarce ever found my desires of anything of this nature so sensibly and clearly and free from selfish views. I had no desire to be the instrument of so glorious work as I prayed for among the Indians, if the blessed work might be accomplished to the honor of God and the enlargement of the dear Redeemer's kingdom. This was all my desire and care, and for this mercy I hoped, but with trembling. My rising hopes, respecting the conversion of the Indians, have often been dashed that my spirit is as it were broken, and I hardly dare hope. Eighth. I now found them serious, and a number of them under deep concern for an interest in Christ, their convictions of their sinful and perishing state having, in my absence, been much promoted by the labors of the Reverend William Tennant, to whom I had advised them to apply, and whose house they had frequented much.
I preached to them this day on Revelation 22, verse 17, and whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely. I was enabled to set before them the Lord Jesus Christ as a kind and compassionate Savior, inviting distressed and perishing sinners to accept everlasting mercy. A surprising concern soon appeared among them. There were about twenty adult persons together. Many of the Indians at remote places, not having as yet, had time to come since my return, and not above two that I could see with dry eyes. Some discovered vehement longings after Christ to save them from the misery they felt and feared. Lord's Day, August 4th. Being invited by a neighboring minister to assist in the administration of the Lord's Supper, I complied with his request and took the Indians along with me.
Not only those that were together the day before, but many more that were coming to hear me, so that there were near fifty in all. They attended the several discourses of the day. Some of them were much affected, and all seemed to have their concern raised. Now a change in their manners began to appear. In the evening, when they came to sup together, they would not taste a morsel till they had sent to me to come and ask a blessing on their food, at which time sundry of them wept, especially when I reminded them how they had, in times past, eat their feast in honor to devils, and neglected to thank God for them. Fifth, after a sermon had been preached by another minister, I preached and concluded the public work of the Solemnity, from John chapter 7, verse 37.
In my discourse, I addressed the Indians in particular who sat by themselves in a part of the house, at which time one or two of them were struck with deep concern who had been little affected before. Others had their concern increased to a considerable degree. In the evening, I discoursed to them and found them universally engaged, inquiring, what should they do to be saved? And all their conversation among themselves turned upon religious matters in which they were much assisted by my interpreter, who was with them day and night. This day there was one woman that had been much concerned ever since she heard me preach in June, who obtained comfort, I trust, solid and well-grounded. She seemed to be filled with love to Christ.
At the same time she behaved humbly and tenderly, and appeared afraid of nothing so much as grieving Him whom her soul loved. Sixth. In the morning I discoursed to the Indians at the house where we lodged. Many of them were then much affected, so that a few words about their souls would cause the tears to flow freely and produce many sobs and groans. In the afternoon, they being returned to the place where I have usually preached among them, I again discoursed to them there. There were about fifty-five persons in all, about forty that were capable of attending divine service with understanding. I insisted upon I John, Chapter Four, Verse Ten, Herein is Love, etc. They seemed eager of hearing, but there appeared nothing very remarkable till near the close of my discourse, and then divine truths were attended with a surprising influence.
There was scarce three in forty that could refrain from tears and bitter cries. They all as one seemed in an agony of soul to obtain an interest in Christ, and the more I discoursed of the love and compassion of God in sending His Son to suffer for the sins of men, and the more I invited them to come and partake of His love, the more their distress was aggravated. It was surprising to see how their hearts were pierced with the tender invitations of the Gospel, when there was not a word of terror spoken to them. There was, this day, two persons that obtained comfort, which When I came to discourse with them, appeared solid, rational, and scriptural. After I had inquired into the grounds of their comfort, I asked what they wanted God to do further for them.
They replied, they wanted Christ should wipe their hearts quite clean. Seventh. I preached to the Indians from Isaiah chapter 53 verses 3 and 10. There was a remarkable influence attending the word. Most were much affected, and many in great distress, and some could neither go nor stand, but lay flat on the ground as if pierced at heart, crying incessantly for mercy. Several were newly awakened, and it was remarkable that as fast as they came from remote places round about, the Spirit of God seemed to seize them. After public service, I found two persons more that had newly met with comfort, of whom I had good hopes, and a third that I could not but entertain some hopes of, so that here were now six in all that had got some relief from their spiritual distresses, and five whose experience appeared clear and satisfactory.
Eighth. In the afternoon I preached to the Indians. Their number was now about sixty-five persons—men, women, and children. I discoursed from Luke, chapter 14, verses 16 through 23, and was favored with uncommon freedom. There was much concern among them while I was discoursing publicly, but afterwards, when I spoke to one and another more particularly, whom I perceived under concern, the power of God seemed to descend upon the assembly. Like a rushing mighty wind, and with an astonishing energy bore down all before it. I stood amazed at the influence that seized the audience almost universally, and could compare it to nothing more aptly than a mighty torrent that bears down and sweeps before it whatever is in its way.
Almost all persons of all ages were bowed down together, and scarce one was able to withstand the shock of this surprising operation. Old men and women who had been drunk wretches for many years, and some little children not more than six or seven years of age, appeared in distress for their souls, as well as persons of middle age. And it was apparent these children were not merely frighted with seeing the general concern, but were made sensible of their danger, the badness of their hearts, and their misery without Christ. The most stubborn hearts were now obliged to bow. A principal man among the Indians, who before thought his state good, because he knew more that the generality of the Indians, and who, with great confidence the day before told me he had been a Christian more than ten years, was now brought under solemn concern for his soul, and wept bitterly.
Another man, considerable in years, who had been a murderer, a paw-wall, and a notorious drunkard, was likewise brought now to cry for mercy with many tears, and to complain much that he could be no more concerned when he saw his danger so great. There were almost universally praying and crying for mercy in every part of the house, and many out of doors, and numbers could neither go nor stand. Their concern was so great, each for himself, that none seemed to take any notice of those about them, but each prayed for themselves, and were, to their own apprehension, as much retired as if every one had been by himself in a desert. Or rather, they thought nothing about any but themselves, and so were everyone praying apart, although all together.
It seemed to me there was an exact fulfillment of that prophecy. Zechariah, chapter 12, verses 10, 11, and 12. For there was now a great morning like the morning of Hadadriman, and each seemed to mourn apart. Methought this had a near resemblance to the day of God's power mentioned Joshua chapter 10 verse 14. For I must say I never saw any day like it in all respects. It was a day wherein the Lord did much destroy the kingdom of darkness among this people. This concern was most rational and just. Those who had been awakened any considerable time complained especially of the badness of their hearts, those newly awakened of the badness of their lives and actions, and all were afraid of the anger of God and of everlasting misery as the desert of their sins.
Some of the white people who came out of curiosity to hear what this babbler would say to the poor ignorant Indians were much awakened and appeared to be wounded with a view of their perishing state. Those who had lately obtained relief were filled with comfort. They appeared calm and rejoiced in Christ Jesus, and some of them took their distressed friends by the hand, telling them of the goodness of Christ and the comfort that is to be enjoyed in Him, and invited them to come and give up their hearts to Him. And I could observe some of them, in the most unaffected manner, lifting up their eyes to heaven as if crying for mercy while they saw the distress of the poor souls around them. There was one remarkable instance this day that I cannot but take particular notice of.
A young Indian woman, who I believe never knew before she had a soul, hearing that there was something strange among the Indians, came to see what was the matter. I had not proceeded far in my discourse before she felt effectually that she had a soul, and before I had concluded, was so convinced of her sin and misery, and so distressed with concern for her soul, that she seemed like one pierced through with a dart, and cried out incessantly. She could neither go, nor stand, nor sit on her seat without being held up. After public service was over, she lay flat on the ground praying earnestly, and would take no notice of, nor give any answer to anyone that spoke to her. I hearkened to hear what she said, and perceived the burden of her prayer to be, Guta maka lemma, wehkama khmlek nada, i.e., have mercy on me, and help me give you my heart.
And thus she considered praying incessantly for many hours. August 9th. I spent almost the whole day with the Indians, the former part of it in discoursing with them privately, especially some who lately received comfort, and endeavoring to inquire into the grounds of it, as well as to give them some proper instructions, cautions, and directions. In the afternoon, I discoursed to them publicly. There were now present about seventy persons. I opened and applied the parable of the sower and was enabled to discourse with much plainness. There were many tears among them while I was discoursing, but no considerable cry. Yet some were much affected with a few words spoken from Matthew 11, verse 28, with which I concluded.
But while I was discoursing near night to two or three of the awakened persons, a divine influence seemed to attend what was spoken, which caused the persons to cry out in anguish of soul, although I spoke not a word of terror. But on the contrary set before them the fullness of Christ's merits, and his willingness to save all that came to him. The cry of these was heard by others, who, though scattered before, immediately gathered round. I then proceeded in the same strain of gospel invitation, till they were all melted into tears and cries, except two or three, and seemed in the greatest distress to find and secure an interest in the great Redeemer. Some who had but little more than a ruffle made in their passions the day before seemed now to be deeply affected, and the concern in general appeared near as prevalent as the day before.
There was indeed a very great mourning among them, and yet everyone seemed to mourn apart. For so great was their concern that almost everyone was praying and crying for himself as if none had been near.
I.e., have mercy upon me, have mercy upon me, was the common cry. It was very affecting to see the poor Indians, who the other day were yelling in their idolatrous feasts, now crying to God with such importunity for an interest in His dear Son. I found two or three who I hope had taken comfort upon good grounds since the evening before. And these with others that had obtained comfort were together, and seemed to rejoice much that God was carrying on his work with such power upon others. August 10th. I began to discourse privately with those who had obtained comfort, endeavoring to instruct, direct, caution, and comfort them. But others, being eager of hearing every word that related to spiritual concerns, soon came together one after another.
And when I had discoursed to the young converts more than half an hour, they seemed much melted with divine things and earnestly desirous to be with Christ. When I had spent some time with these, I turned to the other Indians and spoke to them from Luke chapter 19, verse 10. I had not discourse long before their concern rose to a great degree, and the house was filled with cries and groans. And when I insisted on the compassion and care of the Lord Jesus Christ for those that were lost and could find no way of escape, this melted them down the more, and aggravated their distress, that they could not come to so kind a Savior. Sundry persons, who before had been but slightly awakened, were now deeply wounded.
And one man in particular, who was never before awakened, was now made to feel that the word of the Lord was quick and powerful, sharper than any two-edged sword. He seemed to be pierced to the heart and said, All the wickedness of his past life was brought fresh to his remembrance, and he saw all the vile actions he had done formerly, as if done but yesterday. I found one that had newly received comfort after pressing distress from day to day. I could not but admire the divine goodness. There seemed to be some good done by every discourse, some newly awakened every day, and some comforted. Lord's Day, August 11th. I discoursed in the forenoon from the parable of the prodigal son. In the afternoon I discoursed upon part of St.
Peter's sermon, Acts chapter 2. And at the close of my discourse to the Indians made an address to the white people, and divine truth seemed to be attended with power both to the English and Indians. Several of the white heathen were awakened and could no longer be idle spectators, but found they had souls to save as well as the Indians, and a great concern spread through the whole assembly so that this also appeared to be a day of God's power. The number of Indians, old and young, was now upwards of seventy, and one or two were newly awakened this day, who never appeared to be moved before. Those that had obtained comfort had given evidences of a saving change, appeared humble and devout, and behaved in an agreeable and Christian manner.
I was refreshed to see the tendencies of conscience manifest in some of them. Perceiving one of them very sorrowful in the morning, I inquired into the cause of her sorrow, and found she had been angry with her child the evening before, and was in fear lest her anger had been inordinate, which so grieved her, that she waked and began to sob before daylight, and continued weeping for several hours together. August 14th. I spent the day with the Indians. There was one of them who had some time since put away his wife, As is common among them, and taken another woman, and being now brought under some serious impressions, was earnestly desirous to know what God would have him to do. When the law of God respecting marriage had been opened to them, and the cause of his leaving his wife inquired into, and when it appeared she had given him no just occasion by unchastity to desert her, and that she was willing to forgive his past misconduct.
He was then told that it was his indispensable duty to renounce the woman he had last taken, and receive the other who was his proper wife, with which he cheerfully complied, and thereupon publicly renounced the woman he had last taken, and publicly promised to live with his wife during life. And there appeared a clear demonstration of the power of God's word upon their hearts. A few weeks before, the whole world could not have persuaded him to a compliance with Christian rules in this affair. August 15th, I preached from Luke 4, verse 16. The word was attended with power upon the hearts of the hearers. There was much concern, many tears, and affecting cries among them, and some were deeply wounded and distressed.
There were some newly awakened who came but this week, and convictions seemed to be promoted in others. Those that had received comfort were likewise refreshed and strengthened, and the work of grace appeared to advance in all respects. I spent a considerable time in conversing privately with Sundry of the Indians. I found one that had got comfort, after pressing concern, and could not but hope, when I discoursed with her that her comfort was of the right kind. In the afternoon, I preached from John chapter 6, verses 26 and 34. Toward the close of my discourse, divine truths were attended with considerable power upon the audience, and more especially after public service was over, when I particularly addressed the distressed persons.
There was a great concern for their souls spread generally among them, but especially there were two persons newly awakened to a sense of their sin and misery, one of whom was lately come, and the other had all along been very attentive and desirous of being awakened, but could never before have any lively view of her perishing state. But now her spiritual distress was such that I had never seen any more pressing. Sundry old men were also in distress for their souls, so that they could not refrain from weeping and crying aloud. And their bitter groans were the most convincing, as well as affecting evidence of the depth of their inward anger. 17th.
I spent much time in private conference with the Indians. I found one who had newly obtained comfort after a long season of spiritual distress, he having been one of my hearers in the Forks of Delaware for more than a year, and now followed me hither under deep concern, and I had abundant reason to hope that his comfort was well grounded. August 19th. I rode to Freehold and preached to a considerable assembly from Matthew 5, verse 3. It pleased God to leave me dry and barren, but He has made my soul acquiesce in His will. It is contrary to flesh and blood to be cut off from all freedom in a large auditory, where their expectations are much raised. But so it was with me, and God helped me to say, Good is the will of the Lord.
Twenty-third. I spent some time with the Indians in private discourse, afterwards preached to them from John chapter 6 verses 44 through 50. There was a great attention and some affection among them. Several appeared deeply concerned for their souls and could not but express their inward anguish by tears and cries, but the amazing influence that has been so powerfully among them seems at present in some degree abated. Twenty-fourth. I spent the forenoon in discoursing to some of the Indians in order to their receiving the ordinance of baptism. When I had opened the nature of the ordinance, the obligations attending it, the duty of devoting ourselves to God in it, and the privilege of being in covenant with Him, sundry of them seemed to be filled with love to God and delighted with the thought of giving up themselves to Him in that solemn and public manner.
Afterwards, I discoursed publicly from 1 Thessalonians 4, verses 13-17. There was solemn attention and visible concern in the time of public service, which was afterwards increased by some further exhortation given them to come to Christ and give up their hearts to Him, that they might be fitted to ascend up and meet Him in the air, when He shall descend with a shout and the voice of the archangel. There were several Indians newly come who thought their state good because they had lived with the white people under gospel light, although they were altogether unacquainted with the power of religion. With those I discoursed particularly after public worship, and was surprised to see their self-righteous disposition, their strong attachment to the covenant of works, and the high value they put upon their supposed attainments.
Yet after much discourse, one appeared convinced, that by the deeds of the law no flesh living should be justified, and wept bitterly inquiring what he must do to be saved.
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9 08 - Chapter VII, part 2 54:53
Lord's Day, August 25th. I preached in the forenoon from Luke, Chapter 15, verses 3-7. There being a multitude of white people present, I made an address to them at the close of my disclosure. But could not so much as keep them orderly, for scores of them kept walking and gazing about and behaved more indecently than any Indians I ever addressed. Afterwards, I baptized twenty-five persons of the Indians, fifteen adults, and ten children. Most of the adults, I have reason to hope, are renewed persons. Only the case of two or three appeared more doubtful. After the crowd of spectators was gone, I called the baptized persons together and discoursed to them in particular, mindful of the solemn obligations they were under to live to God, and encouraged them to watchfulness and devotion by setting before them the comfort and happy conclusion of a religious life.
This was a sweet season indeed. Their hearts were engaged and cheerful in duty, and they rejoiced that they had in a public and solemn manner dedicated themselves to God. Love seemed to reign among them. They took each other by the hand with tenderness and affection, as if their hearts were knit together, while I was discoursing to them, and all their deportment towards each other was such that a serious spectator might justly be excited to cry out with admiration, behold how they love one another. Sundry of the other Indians at seeing and hearing these things were much affected and wept bitterly, longing to be partakers of the same joy and comfort that these discovered by their countenances, as well as conduct.
Twenty-sixth. I preached to my people from John, chapter 6, verses 51 and 55. After I had discoursed some time, I addressed those in particular who entertained hopes that they were passed from death to life. I opened to them the persevering nature of those consolations Christ gives His people, showed them that such have already the beginnings of eternal life, and that their heaven shall be speedily completed. I no sooner began to discourse, but the Christians in the congregation began to be melted with affection to and desire of the enjoyment of Christ, and of a state of perfect purity. They wept affectionately and yet joyfully, and their tears and sobs discovered brokenness of heart, and yet were attended with comfort and sweetness, so that this was a tender, affectionate, humble, delightful melting, and appeared to be the genuine effect of the spirit of adoption, and very far from the spirit of bondage that they before labored under.
The influence spread from these through the whole assembly, and there quickly appeared a wonderful concern among them. Many who had not yet found Christ were surprisingly engaged in seeking after Him. Their number was now about 95 persons, and almost all affected either with joy in Christ or with the utmost concern to obtain an interest in Him. Being convinced it was now my duty to take a journey far back to the Indians on Susquehanna River, after having spent some hours in public and private discourses with my people, I told them that I must leave them for the present and go to their brethren far remote. And I preached to them that I wanted the Spirit of God should go with me, without whom nothing could be done to any good purpose, as they themselves had an opportunity to see, and asked them if they would not spend the remainder of the day in prayer for me, that God would go with me and succeed my endeavors.
They cheerfully complied with the motion, and soon after I left them, The sun being then about one hour and a half high, they began and continued praying all night until break of day, never mistrusting, they told me, till they went out and saw the morning star a considerable height, that it was later than common bedtime. There were, I trust, this day two distressed souls brought to the enjoyment of solid comfort. Likewise this day an old Indian, who has all his days been an obstinate idolater, was brought to give up his rattles, which they used for music in their idolatrous feasts and dances, to the other Indians, who quickly destroyed them. And this without any attempt of mine in the affair, I having said nothing to him about it, so that it was the power of God's word without any particular application to this sin that produced this effect.
Thus God has begun, and thus he has hitherto carried on a work of grace amongst these Indians. May the glory be ascribed to him who is the sole author of it. The next day he set out on a journey towards the Forks of Delaware, designing to go from Hentz to Susquehanna, before he returned across Weeksung. It was five days from his departure from Cross Week Sung before he reached the Forks, going round by the way of Philadelphia to get a recommendation from him to the Chiefs of the Indians. FORKS OF DELAWARE. Lord's Day, September 1st. I preach to the Indians here from Luke, chapter 14, verses 16 through 23. Afterwards, I preached to a number of white people and observed many of them in tears, and some who had been formerly as careless and unconcerned about religion as the Indians.
Towards night I discoursed to the Indians again and perceived a great attention, and more visible concern among them than has been usual in these parts. Third. I preached to the Indians from Isaiah 53, verses 3-6. The Divine Presence was in the midst of the assembly, and a considerable concern spread among them. Sundry persons were awakened, among whom were two stupid creatures that I could scarce ever before keep awake while I was discoursing to them. Fourth, I rode fifteen miles to an Irish settlement and preached there from Luke 14, verse 22. And yet there is room. God was pleased to afford me some tenderness and enlargement in the first prayer, and much freedom as well as warmth in the sermon.
There were many tears in the assembly. The people of God seemed to melt, and others to be in some measure awakened. Blessed be the Lord that lets me see His work going on in one place and another. Fifth. I discoursed to the Indians from the parable of the sower, and afterwards conversed with sundry persons which occasioned them to weep, and even to cry out in an affecting manner, and seized others with surprise and concern. Several of these had been with me to Cross Week Sung, and some of them felt the power of God's word. I asked one of them why he now cried. He replied, When he thought how Christ was slain like a lamb and spilt his blood for sinners, he could not help crying. And thereupon burst out into tears and cries again.
I then asked his wife, who likewise had been abundantly comforted, wherefore she cried. She answered, she was grieved that the Indians here would not come to Christ as well as those at Cross Week Song. I asked her if she found a heart to pray for them, and whether Christ had been near to her of late in prayer as in the time past, which is my usual method of expressing a sense of the Divine Presence. She replied, yes, he had been near to her, and that at some times when she had been praying alone, her heart loved to pray so that she could not bear to leave the place, but wanted to stay and pray longer. Lord's Day, Eighth. A discourse to the Indians in the forenoon from John, chapter 12, verses 44 through 50.
In the afternoon, from Acts, chapter 2, verses 36 to 39. The Word of God seemed to fall with weight and influence upon them. Most of them were in tears and cried out under distressing concern for their souls. One man was awakened who never before discovered any concern for his soul. There appeared a remarkable work of the Spirit among them, not unlike what has been of late at Crossweek's Psalm. It seemed as if the divine influence had spread from thence to this place. Sundry of the careless white people now present were startled, seeing the power of God so prevalent among the Indians. I then made a particular address to them, which seemed to make some impression upon them. In the evening God was pleased to enlarge me in prayer and give me freedom at the throne of grace.
I cried to God for the enlargement of His kingdom in the world, and particularly among my dear people, and was enabled to pray for many dear ministers of my acquaintance, both in these parts and in New England. My soul was so engaged in that sweet exercise that I knew not how to leave the mercy seat. I saw God was both able and willing to do all that I desired for myself and friends and His Church in general. And afterwards, when I was just going to bed, God helped me to renew my petitions with ardency and freedom. September 9th. I left the Indians in the Forks of Delaware and set out on a journey towards Susquehanna River, directing my course towards the Indian town more than 120 miles westward from the Forks.
Thirteenth. After having lodged out three nights, I arrived at the Indian town on Susquehanna, called Shamoking. one of the places I visited in May last, and was kindly received by the Indians, but had little satisfaction by reason of the heathenish dance they then held in the house where I was obliged to the lodge, which I could not suppress, though I often entreated them to desist, for the sake of one of their own friends who was sick in the house. This town lies partly on the east side of the river, partly on the west, and partly on a large island in it, and contains upwards of fifty houses and near three hundred persons, but of three different tribes of Indians, speaking three languages wholly unintelligible to each other.
About one half of its inhabitants are Delawares, the others called Senecas and Tutelas. The Indians of this place are counted the most drunken, mischievous, and ruffianly fellows of any in these parts, and Satan seems to have his seat in this town in an eminent manner. September 14th. I visited the Delaware King, who was supposed to be at the point of death when I was here in May last, but was now recovered, and discoursed with him and others respecting Christianity, and spent the afternoon with them and had more encouragement than I expected. The king appeared kindly disposed and willing to be instructed. This gave me some encouragement that God would open an effectual door for my preaching the gospel here.
This was a refreshment to me in the wilderness, and rendered my solitary circumstances comfortable and pleasant. In the evening my soul was enlarged in prayer, especially that God would set up his kingdom in this place where the devil now reigns. My soul cried, Lord, set up thy kingdom for thine own glory. Glorify thyself, and I shall rejoice. Get honor to thy blessed name, and this is all I desire. Do with me just what thou wilt. Blessed be thy name forever, that thou art God, and that thou wilt glorify me. Lord's Day, September 15th. I visited the Chief of the Delawares again and discoursed to the Indians in the afternoon. I hoped that God would open their hearts to receive the Gospel, though many of them in the place were so drunk from day to day that I could get no opportunity to speak to them.
September 16th. I spent the forenoon with the Indians, endeavoring to instruct them from house to house and to engage them to be friendly to Christianity. Towards night, I went to a part of town where they were sober, and got together near fifty persons. There was a surprising attention among them, and they manifested a desire of being further instructed. There was also one or two that seemed to be touched, who appeared pleased with some conversation in private, after I had concluded my public discourse. My spirit was much refreshed, and I could not but return with my interpreter. Having no other companion in this journey, to my poor hard lodgings, rejoicing in the hope that God designed to set up his kingdom here, and found uncommon freedom in addressing the throne of grace for the accomplishment of so glorious a work.
Seventeenth. I spent the forenoon in discoursing to the Indians. About noon I left Shawmoking, most of the Indians going out this day to hunt, and traveled down the river southwestward. Nineteenth. I visited an Indian town called Junota, situated on an island in Susquehanna. I was much discouraged with the behavior of the Indians here, although they appeared friendly when I was with them last spring. Yet they now seemed resolved to retain their pagan notions and persist in their idolatrous practices. 20th. I visited the Indians again at Junotaw Island and found them busy in making preparations for a great sacrifice and dance, so I had no opportunity to get them together in order to discourse with them about Christianity.
My spirits were much sunk, especially as I had now no interpreter but a pagan who was as much attached to idolatry as any of them, so that I was under the greatest disadvantages imaginable. However, I attempted to discourse privately with some of them, but without any appearance of success. In the evening they met together, near an hundred of them, and danced round a large fire, having prepared ten fat deer for the sacrifice. The fat of those inwards they burnt in the fire while they were dancing, and at some times raised the flame to a prodigious height, at the same time yelling and shouting in such a manner that they might have been heard two miles or more. They continued their sacred dance all night, after which they eat the flesh of the sacrifice, and retired each to his lodging.
I enjoyed little satisfaction this night, being entirely alone on the island, as to any Christian company, and in the midst of the night, In the midst of this idolatrous revel, and having walked to and fro till body and mind were much oppressed, I at length crept into a little crib made for corn, and there slept on the poles. Lord's Day, September 21st. I spent the day with the Indians on the island. As soon as they were up in the morning, I attempted to instruct them and labored to get them together, but quickly found that they had something else to do, for they gathered together all their powwows, or conjurers, and set about half a dozen of them to playing their tricks and acting their frantic postures in order to find out why they were so sickly, numbers of them being at that time disordered with a fever and bloody flux.
In this, they were engaged for several hours, making all the wild, distracted motions imaginable, sometimes singing, sometimes howling, sometimes extending their hands to the utmost stretch, spreading all their fingers, and seemed to push with them as if they designed to fright something away, or at least keep it off at arm's end. Sometimes stroking their faces with their hands, then spurting water as fine as mist, sometimes sitting flat on the earth, then bowing down their faces to the ground, wringing their sides as if in pain and anguish, twisting their faces, turning up their eyes, grunting or puffing. Their monstrous actions seemed to have something in them peculiarly suited to raise the devil, if he could be raised by anything odd and frightful.
Some of them were much more fervent in the business than others, and seemed to chant, peep, and mutter with a great degree of warmth and vigor. I sat about thirty feet from them, though undiscovered, with my Bible in my hand, resolving if possible to spoil their sport and prevent their receiving any answers from the infernal world. They continued their hideous charms for more than three hours until they had all wearied themselves out, although they had taken sundry intervals of rest, and at length broke up, I apprehend, without receiving any answer. After they had done powwowing, I attempted to discourse with them about Christianity, but they soon scattered and gave no opportunity. A view of these things, while I was entirely alone in the wilderness, destitute of the society of any one that so much as, quote, named the name of Christ, and quote, greatly sunk my spirits, so that I had no heart nor power to make any further attempts among them.
The Indians of this island, many of them understand the English language, having formerly lived in Maryland near the white people. But are very vicious, drunken, and profane, although not so savage as those who have less acquaintance with the English. Their method of charming or conjuring over the sick seems somewhat different from that of other Indians, and the whole of it perhaps is an imitation of what seems, by Naaman's expression, 2 Kings 5, verse 11, to have been the custom of the ancient heathens. For it chiefly consists in their striking their hands over the diseased, repeatedly stroking of them, When I was in these parts in May last, I had an opportunity of learning many of the customs of the Indians.
I then, traveling 130 miles upon the river above the English settlements, and had in that journey a view of persons of seven or eight distinct tribes, speaking so many different languages. But of all the sights I ever saw among them, none appeared so near akin to what is usually imagined of infernal powers as the appearance of one who was a devout and zealous reformer, or rather restorer, of what he supposed was the ancient religion of the Indians. He made his appearance in his pontifical garb, which was a coat of bearskins, dressed with the hair on and hanging down to his toes. A pair of bearskin stockings and a great wooden face painted the one-half black and the other tawny, about the color of an Indian's skin.
With an extravagant mouth cut very much awry, the face fastened to a bearskin cap which was drawn over his head. He advanced toward me with the instrument in his hand that he used for music in his idolatrous worship, which was a dry tortoise shell with some corn in it, and the neck of it drawn on a piece of wood, which made a very convenient handle. As he came forward, he beat his tune with the rattle, and danced with all his might, but did not suffer any part of his body, not so much as his fingers to be seen, and no man would have guessed by his appearance that he could have been a human creature. When he came near me, I could not but shrink away from him, although it was then noonday, and I knew who it was.
His appearance and gestures were so frightful. He had a house consecrated to religious uses with diverse images cut out upon the several parts of it. I went in and found the ground beat almost as hard as a rock with their frequent dancing. I discoursed with him about Christianity, and some of my discourse he seemed to like, but some of it he disliked entirely. He told me that God had taught him his religion, and that he never would turn from it, but wanted to find some that would join heartily with him in it, for the Indians, he said, were grown very degenerate. He had thoughts of leaving all his friends and traveling abroad in order to find some that would join with him, for he believed God had some good people somewhere that felt as he did.
He had not always, he said, felt as he now did, but had formerly been like the rest of the Indians until four or five years ago. Then, he said, his heart was very much distressed, so that he could not live among the Indians, but got away into the woods and lived alone for some months. At length, he says, God showed him what he should do, and since that time he has known God and tried to serve Him and loved all men, be they who they would, so as he never did before. He treated me with uncommon courtesy and seemed to be hearty in it. I was told by the Indians that he opposed their drinking strong liquors with all his power, and if at any time he could not persuade them from it, he would leave them and go crying into the woods.
It was manifest he had a set of religious notions that he had looked into for himself, and not taken for granted upon bare tradition, and he relished or dis-relished whatever was spoken of a religious nature, according as it either agreed or disagreed with his standard. While I was discoursing, he would sometimes say, Now that I like, so God has taught me. And some of his sentiments seemed very just. Yet he utterly denied the being of a devil, and declared there was no such a creature known among the Indians of old times. He likewise told me that departed souls all went southward, and that the difference between the good and bad was this, that the former were admitted into a beautiful town with spiritual walls, or walls agreeable to the nature of souls.
And that the latter would forever hover around those walls and in vain attempt to get in. He seemed to be sincere, honest, and conscientious in his own way, which was more than ever I saw in any other pagan, and I perceived he was looked upon and derided amongst most of the Indians as a precise zealot. I must say there was something in his temper that looked more like true religion than anything I ever observed among other heathens. September 22nd. I made some further attempts to instruct the Indians on this island, but all to no purpose. They live so near the white people that they are always in the way of strong liquor, as well as the ill examples of nominal Christians, which renders it unspeakably difficult to treat with them about Christianity.
Next day, he left the Indians in order to his return to the Forks of Delaware. In a very weak state of body and under dejection of mind, which continued the two first days of his journey. September 26. I was still much disordered in body and able to ride, but slowly. I continued my journey, however. Near night, I arrived at the Irish settlement about 15 miles from my own house. I was much exercised with a sense of my barrenness, and verily thought there was no creature that had any true grace, but what was more spiritual and fruitful than I? I could not think that any of God's children made so poor a hand of living to God as I. Forks of Delaware. October 1st. I discoursed to the Indians here, and afterwards invited them to accompany Fifth, I preached to my people at Cross Week Sung from John chapter 14, verses 1 through 6.
The Divine Presence seemed to be in the Assembly. Numbers were affected, and some comforted. Oh, what a difference there is between these and the Indians upon Susquehanna! To be with those seemed like being banished from God and all His people. To be with these like being admitted into His family, and to the enjoyment of His presence. How great is the change lately made upon these Indians, who not many months ago were as thoughtless and averse to Christianity as those upon Susquehanna. Lord's Day, October 6th. I preached in the forenoon from John chapter 10, verses 7 through 11. There was a considerable melting among my people. The young Christians were comforted and strengthened, and one or two persons newly awakened.
In the afternoon I discoursed on the story of the jailer, Acts chapter 16, and in the evening expounded Acts chapter 20 verses 1 through 12. There was at this time a melting through the whole assembly. There was scarce a dry eye to be seen among them, and nothing but what tended to encourage and excite a Christian ardor and spirit of devotion. After public service, I withdrew, and the Indians continued praying among themselves for near two hours together, which exercises appeared to be attended with a blessed influence from on high. I could not but earnestly wish that the numbers of God's people had been present at this season to see and hear these things, which I am sure must refresh the heart of every true lover of Zion.
To see those who very lately were savage pagans and idolaters, quote, having no hope and without God in the world, end quote, now filled with a sense of divine love and grace and worshiping the, quote, Father in spirit and in truth, end quote. 7. Being called by the Church and people of East Hampton on Long Island as a member of a council to assist and advise in affairs of difficulty in that church, I sat out on my journey this morning before it was well light and traveled to Elizabeth Town. He prosecuted his journey with the other ministers that were sent for and did not return till October 24th. Twenty-fourth. I discoursed from John chapter 4, verses 13 and 14. There was a great attention and an unaffected melting in the assembly.
It is surprising to see how eager they are of hearing the word of God. I have often thought they would cheerfully attend divine worship 24 hours together. Twenty-fifth. I discourse to my people on the resurrection from Luke 20, verses 27-36. And when I came to mention the blessedness the good shall enjoy at that season, their final freedom from death and sorrow, their equality to the angels in regard of their nearness to and enjoyment of Christ, And there being the children of God, openly acknowledged by Him as such, I say when I mentioned these things, numbers of them were much affected and melted with a view of this blessed state. 26. Being called to assist in the administration of the Lord's Supper in a neighboring congregation, I invited my people to go with me, who embraced the opportunity cheerfully and attended the discourses of that solemnity with diligence and affection, most of them now understanding something of the English language.
Lord's Day, October 27th. While I was preaching to a vast assembly of people abroad, who appeared generally easy and secure enough, there was one Indian woman, a stranger, who never heard me preach before, nor ever regarded anything about religion, being now persuaded by some of her friends to come, though much against her will, was seized with a pressing concern for her soul, and soon after expressed a great desire of going home. More than forty miles distant, to call her husband, that he also might have a concern for his soul. Some other of the Indians also appeared to be affected with divine truths this day. The pious people of the English, numbers of whom I had an opportunity to converse with, seemed refreshed with seeing the Indians worship God in that devout and solemn manner, and could not but glorify God, saying, Then hath God also to the Gentiles granted repentance unto life."
28. I discoursed from Matthew 22, verses 1-13. I was enabled to adapt my discourse to the capacities of my people, I know not how, in a plain, easy, and familiar manner, beyond all that I could have done by the utmost study. And this with as much freedom as if I had been addressing a common audience who had been instructed in Christianity all their days. The Word of God at this time seemed to fall upon the assembly with a divine power, especially toward the close of my discourse. There was both a sweet melting and bitter mourning in the audience. The Christians were refreshed and comforted, convictions revived in others, and sundry persons newly awakened who had never been with us before, and so much of the Divine Presence appeared in the Assembly that it seemed, quote, this was no other than the gate of heaven, end quote.
All that had any relish of divine things were even constrained to say, quote, Lord, it is good for us to be here, end quote. If there ever was among my people an appearance of the new Jerusalem, quote, as a bride adorned for her husband, end quote, there was at this time. And so agreeable was the entertainment that I could scarcely tell how to leave the place. Lord's Day, November 3rd. I baptized 14 Indians, six adults and eight children. One of these was near four score years of age, and I have reason to hope God has brought her home to Himself. Two of the others were men of 50 years old who had been singular even among the Indians for their wickedness. One of them had been a murderer, and both notorious drunkards, as well as excessive quarrelsome.
But now I cannot but hope both are really changed. I deferred their baptism for many weeks that I might have more opportunities to observe the fruits of those impressions they had been under. Indeed, there was not one of the adults but had given me grounds to hope that God had wrought a good work in their hearts. Fourth. There were sundry of the persons lately come from remoter places that were now brought under deep concern for their souls, particularly one who, not long since, came half drunk and railed on us and attempted to disturb us while engaged in divine worship, was so distressed that she seemed unable to get any ease without an interest in Christ. There were many tears and affectionate groans in the assembly in general, some weeping for themselves, others for their friends.
And though persons are doubtless much easier affected now than they were in the beginning, to this religious concern, when tears and cries for their souls were things unheard of among them, yet their affection in general appeared genuine and unfeigned, and especially in those newly awakened. I baptized a child this day, and perceived several of the baptized persons affected as being thereby reminded of their own solemn engagements. I have now baptized 47 persons of the Indians, 23 adults, and 24 children, 35 of them belonging to these parts, and the rest to the Forks of Delaware. They have none of them as yet been a disgrace to their profession by any unbecoming behavior. Before I proceed, I would make a few remarks.
And first, it is remarkable that God began this work among the Indians at a time when I had the least prospect of seeing a work of grace among them. My bodily strength being then much wasted by a tedious journey to Susquehanna, my mind exceedingly depressed with a view of the unseasonableness of my labors, had little reason to hope that God had made me instrumental of the saving conversion of any of the Indians, whence I was ready to look upon myself as a burden to the society that employed me in this business. I began to entertain serious thoughts of giving up my mission, and almost resolved I would do so at the conclusion of the present year if I had then no better prospect in my work than I had hitherto had.
In this frame of mind, I first visited these Indians at Cross Weeksung, apprehending it was my duty to make some attempts for their conversion, though I cannot say I had any hopes of success. My spirits were now so extremely sunk. And yet this was the very season that God saw fit to begin this glorious work in, and thus He, quote, "...ordained strength out of weakness," end quote, "...by making bare His almighty arm at a time when all hopes and human probabilities most evidently failed." Whence I learned that it is good to follow the path of duty, though in the midst of darkness and discouragement. Secondly, it is remarkable how God, in a manner almost unaccountable, called these Indians together to be instructed, and how He seized their minds with the most solemn concern as fast as they came to the place where His word was preached.
When I first came to these parts, I found not one man at the place I visited, but only four women and a few children. But before I had been here many days, they gathered from all quarters, some from more than twenty miles distant, and when I made them a second visit, some came more than forty miles to hear me. And many came without any intelligence of what was going on here, and consequently without any design, so much as to gratify their curiosity, so that it seemed as if God had summoned them together from all quarters to deliver His message to them. Nor is it less surprising that they were, one after another, affected with a solemn concern for their souls, almost as soon as they came upon the spot where divine truths were taught them.
I could not but think their coming to this place was like Saul and his messengers coming among the prophets. And they no sooner came, but they prophesied. And these were almost as soon affected with a sense of their sin and misery, and with an earnest concern for deliverance, as they made their appearance in our assembly. After this work of grace began with power among them, it was common for strangers of the Indians, before they had been with us one day, to be deeply convinced of their sin and misery, and to inquire with great solicitude what they should do to be saved. Thirdly, it is likewise remarkable how God preserved these poor ignorant Indians from being prejudiced against me and the truths I taught them.
There were many attempts made by some of the white people to prejudice them against or fright them from Christianity. They sometimes told them the Indians were well enough already, that there was no need of all this noise about Christianity, that if they were Christians they would be in no better, no safer, or happier state than they were already. Sometimes they told them that I was a knave, a deceiver, that I daily taught them lies and had no other design but to impose upon them. And when none of these suggestions would avail, they told the Indians, quote, My design was to gather together as large a body of them as I possibly could, and then sell them to England for slaves, end quote. Nothing could be more likely to terrify the Indians, they being naturally of a jealous disposition and the most averse to a state of servitude, perhaps of any people living.
But all these insinuations, through divine goodness, continually turned against the authors of them. And only served to engage the affections of the Indians more firmly to me, for they could not but observe that the persons who endeavored to embitter their minds against me were altogether unconcerned about their own souls, and not only so, but vicious and profane, and thence could not but argue that if they had no concern for their own, it was not likely they should have for the souls of others. It seems yet the more wonderful that the Indians were preserved from once hearkening to these suggestions, as I was an utter stranger among them, and could give them no assurance of my sincere affection by anything that was past, while the persons that insinuated these things were their old acquaintance, who had frequent opportunities of gratifying them with strong drink, and consequently had the greatest interest in their affections.
Fourthly. Nor is it less wonderful how God was pleased to provide a remedy for my want of skill in the Indian language by remarkably fitting my interpreter for, and assisting him in, the performance of his work. It might be supposed I must labor under a vast disadvantage in addressing the Indians by an interpreter, and that divine truths would unavoidably lose much of their energy by coming to the audience from a second hand. But although this has often been the case in times past, when my interpreter had little sense of divine things, yet now it is quite otherwise, I cannot think my addresses to the Indians ordinarily, since the beginning of this season of grace, have lost anything of the power with which they were made, unless it were sometimes for want of pertinent expressions in the Indians' language, which difficulty could not have been much redressed by my personal acquaintance with it.
My interpreter had before gained some good degree of doctrinal knowledge whereby he was capable of understanding and communicating the meaning of my discourses, and that without being obliged to interpret word for word. He had likewise an experimental acquaintance with the divine things, and it pleased God at this season to inspire his mind with longing desires for the conversion of the Indians, and to give him admirable zeal and fervency in addressing them. And it is remarkable that when I was favored with any special assistance and enabled to speak with more than common freedom, fervency, and power, he was usually affected in the same manner almost instantaneously, and seemed at once quickened and enabled to speak in the same pathetic language and under the same influence that I did.
And a surprising energy often accompanied the word at such seasons, so that the face of the whole assembly would be apparently changed almost in an instant, and tears and sobs became common among them. He likewise took pains, day and night, to repeat and inculcate upon the minds of the Indians the truths that I taught them daily, and this not from spiritual pride, but from a spirit of faithfulness and an honest concern for their souls. And thus God has manifested that without bestowing on me the gift of tongues, he could find a way wherein I might be effectually enabled to convey the truths of his glorious gospel to the minds of these poor, benighted pagans. Lastly, the effects of this work have been very remarkable.
I doubt not, but that many of these people have gained more knowledge of divine truths since June last than could have been instilled into their minds by the most diligent use of proper means for whole years together without such a divine influence. Their pagan notions and idolatrous practices seem to be entirely abandoned. They are regularly disposed in the affairs of marriage, an instance whereof I have given in my journal of August 14th. They seem generally divorced from drunkenness, their darling vice, and the quote, sin that easily besets them, end quote, so that I do not know of more than two or three who have been my steady hearers that have drank to excess since I first visited them, although before it was common for some or other of them to be drunk almost every day.
And some of them seem now to fear this sin in particular more than death itself. A principle of honesty and justice appears in many of them, and they seem concerned to discharge their old debts, which they have neglected, and perhaps scarce thought of for years past. Their manner of living is much more decent and comfortable than formerly. Love reigns among them, especially those who have experienced a real change. And I never saw any appearance of bitterness or censoriousness, nor any disposition to, quote, esteem themselves better than others, end quote. As their sorrows under conviction have been great and pressing, so many of them have since appeared to rejoice with joy unspeakable, and yet their consolations do not incline them to lightness, but are attended with solemnity and with tears, and brokenness of heart.
And in this respect some of them have been surprised at themselves, and have with concern observed to me, that when their hearts have been glad, they could not help crying for all. Upon the whole, here are all the evidences of a remarkable work of grace that can reasonably be looked for. May the great author maintain and promote the same here, and propagate it everywhere, till, quote, the whole earth be filled with his glory, end quote. I have now rode more than 3,000 miles since the beginning of March last, and almost the whole of it has been in my own business as a missionary, upon the designs of propagating Christian knowledge among the Indians. I've taken pains to look out for a colleague or companion to travel with me, but have not as yet found any person qualified and disposed for this good work.
As these poor pagans stood in need of having, quote, line upon line and precept upon precept, end quote, in order to their being grounded in the principles of Christianity, so I preached publicly and taught from house to house almost every day for whole weeks together. And my public discourses did not then make up the one half of my work, while there were so many constantly coming to me with that important inquiry, what must we do to be saved? And yet I can say, to the praise of God, that the success with which my labors were crowned unspeakably more than compensated for the labor itself, and was likewise a great means of carrying me through the business and fatigues which my nature would have sunk under, without such an encouraging prospect.
But although this success has afforded matter of support, comfort, and thankfulness, yet in this season I have found great need of assistance in my work of One to bear a part of my labors and hardships. May the Lord of the harvest send forth other laborers into this part of His harvest, that those who sit in darkness may see a great light, and that the whole earth may be filled with the knowledge of Himself. November 5th. He left the Indians and spent the remaining part of this week in traveling to various parts of New Jersey in order to make a collection for the use of the Indians and to obtain a schoolmaster to instruct them. Lord's Day, November 10th, at Elizabethtown. I preached in the forenoon from 2 Corinthians 5, verse 20.
God was pleased to give me freedom and fervency, and the presence of God seemed to be in the assembly. Numbers were affected, and there were many tears among them. In the afternoon, I preached from Luke, chapter 14, verse 32, quote, yet there is room, end quote. I was favored with divine assistance in the first prayer and poured out my soul to God with a filial temper. The living God assisted me in the sermon. Fifteenth, I could not cross the ferry by reason of the violence of the wind, nor could I enjoy any place of retirement at the ferry house. Yet God gave me some satisfaction in meditation and lifting up my heart to him in the midst of company. And although some were drinking and talking profanely, yet my mind was calm and composed.
And I could not but bless God that I was not like to spend an eternity in such company. 16th. I crossed the ferry about 10 o'clock, arrived at Elizabethtown near night. I was in a composed frame of mind and felt an entire resignation with respect to a loss I had lately sustained in having my horse stolen from me the last Wednesday night. Twenty-second. I rode to Mr. Tennant's, and from thence to Cross Week sung, Oh, that I could fill up all my time, whether in the house or by the way, for God! I was enabled this day to give up my soul to God, and to put all my concerns into His hands, and found real consolation in the thought of being entirely at His disposal, having no will or interest of my own.
I have received my all from God. Oh, that I could return my all to Him! Surely God is worthy of my highest affection and most devout adoration. He is infinitely worthy that I should make him my last end and live forever to him. Oh, that I might never more in any one instance live to myself. Lord's Day, November 24th. I preached from the story of Zacchaeus. When I insisted upon the salvation that comes to the sinner, upon his becoming a true believer, the word seemed to be attended with the divine power. Numbers were much affected, former convictions were revived, one or two persons newly awakened, and a most affectionate engagement in divine service appeared among them universally. Twenty-sixth.
I was favored with freedom and fervency in my discourse. Many wept and sobbed affectionately, and scarce any appeared unconcerned in the whole assembly. The influence that seized the audience appeared gentle and yet deeply affected the heart. It excited in the persons under conviction of their lost state heavy groans and tears, and in others who had obtained comfort a sweet and humble melting. It seemed like the gentle but steady showers that effectually water the earth. The persons lately awakened were deeply distressed and appeared earnestly solicitous to obtain an interest in Christ, and some of them, in anguish of the Spirit, said, quote, They knew not what to do nor how to get their wicked hearts changed, end quote.
Twenty-eighth. After public service was over, I asked one of the Indians, who wept most affectionately, what she now wanted. She replied, Oh, to be with Christ! She did not know how to stay. This was a blessed, refreshing season to the religious people in general. The Lord Jesus Christ seemed to manifest His divine glory to them, as when transfigured before His disciples, and they were ready, universally, to say, quote, Lord, it is good for us to be here, end quote. The influence of God's word was not confined to those who had given evidences of being truly gracious, though I calculated my discourse for, and directed it chiefly to, such. But it appeared to be a season of divine power in the whole assembly, so that most were, in some measure, affected.
And one aged man in particular, lately awakened, was now brought under deep and pressing concern, and was earnestly inquisitive how he might find Jesus Christ. God seems still to vouchsafe the influence of His Blessed Spirit in all our meetings for divine worship. 30. I explain the story of the rich man and Lazarus. Luke 16, verse 19. The Word made powerful impressions upon many, especially while I discoursed of the blessedness of, quote, Lazarus and Abraham's bosom, end quote. This, I could perceive, affected them much more than when I spoke of the rich man's torments, and thus it has been usually with them. They have appeared much more effective with the comfortable than the dreadful truths of God's word, and that which has distressed many of them under convictions is that they wanted, and could not obtain, the happiness of the godly.
They have often appeared to be more affected with this than with the terrors of hell. But whatever be the means of their awakening, it is plain numbers are made deeply sensible of their sin and misery. The wickedness of their own hearts, their utter inability to help themselves or come to Christ for help, without divine assistance. Lord's Day, December 1st. I gave them particular cautions and directions relating to their conduct in diverse respects, and pressed them to watchfulness in all their deportment, seeing they were encompassed with those that waited for their halting, and who stood ready to draw them into temptations of every kind, and then expose religion on their account. Ninth, I spent most of the day in procuring provisions in order to my setting up housekeeping among the Indians.
Tenth, I was engaged in the same business as yesterday. Towards night, I got into my own house. This is the third house that he built to dwell in by himself among the Indians, the first in Conamique, in the county of Albany, the second at the Forks of Delaware in Pennsylvania, and now this at Crosswick Sung in New Jersey. End footnote. Twelfth. I preach from the parable of the Ten Virgins. The divine power seemed to attend this discourse, in which I was favored with uncommon freedom and plainness of address, and enabled to open divine truths in a manner beyond myself. There appeared in many an affectionate concern for their souls, and it was refreshing to see them melted into tears, some with a sense of divine love and some for want of it.
Lord's Day, 15th. I preached to the Indians from Luke chapter 13 verses 24 and 28. Divine truths fell with weight upon the audience. Near night, I discoursed to them again from Matthew chapter 25 verses 31 to 46. At which season also the word appeared to be accompanied with divine influence and made powerful impressions upon the assembly in general, as well as upon diverse persons in a very particular manner. This was an amazing season of grace. The word of the Lord was quick and powerful, sharper than any two-edged sword. The assembly was deeply wrought upon, and the impressions made by the word of God appeared solid and rational, worthy of the solemn truths by means of which they were produced.
Oh, how did the hearts of the hearers seem to bow under the weight of divine truth! And how evident did it now appear that they received and felt them, quote, not as the word of man, but as the word of God, end quote. Sixteenth. There was much affection and concern in the assembly, especially one woman appeared in great distress. She was brought to such an agony in seeking after Christ that the sweat ran off her face for a considerable time, although the evening was very cold and her bitter cries were the most affecting indication of the inward anguish of her heart. Twenty-first. My people having now attained to a considerable degree of knowledge in the principles of Christianity, I thought it proper to set up a catechetical lecture And this evening attempted something in that form, proposing questions to them, receiving their answers, and explaining as appeared proper upon each question, after which I endeavored to make some practical improvement of the whole.
They were able, readily and rationally, to answer many important questions, so that I found their knowledge to exceed my expectations. In the improvement of my discourse, when I came to open the blessedness of those who have so great and glorious a God, as had been spoken of, quote, for their everlasting friend and portion, end quote, sundry were much affected, and especially when I exhorted them to be reconciled to God through His dear Son, and thus to secure an interest in His everlasting favor. Lord's Day, 22nd. A Discourse upon the story of the young man in the Gospel, Matthew, chapter 9, verse 16. God made it a seasonable word to some souls. After my labors with the Indians, I spent some time in writing and was much wearied with the labors of the day.
I am conscious that my labors are as great and constant as my nature will bear, and that ordinarily I go to the extent of my strength, so that I do all I can. But the misery is I do not labor with the heavenly temper that single eye to the glory of God that I long for. There were sundry persons of the Indians newly come here who had frequently lived among Quakers, and being more civilized than the generality of the Indians, they had imbibed some of the Quakers' principles, especially this, that if men would but live according to the dictates of their own consciences, or the light within, there is no doubt of their salvation. These persons I found much worse to deal with than those who are wholly under pagan darkness, who make no pretenses to knowledge in Christianity, nor have any self-righteous foundation to stand upon.
However, they all except One appeared now convinced that this was not sufficient to salvation, since Christ Himself had declared it so in the case of the young man, and seemed in some measure concerned to obtain that change of heart which I had been laboring to show them the necessity of. This was likewise a season of comfort to some souls, and in particular to one who never before obtained any settled comfort. When I came to inquire of her how she got relief from the distresses she had lately been under, she answered in broken English. In proper English, thus, I tried and tried to save myself till at last my strength was all gone, and I could not stir any further. Then at last I was forced to let Jesus Christ alone to send me to hell if he pleased.
End footnote. Me try, me try, save myself, last my strength be all gone, meaning her ability to save herself. Could not me stir a bit further. Dead last me forced, let Jesus Christ alone send me hell if he please. I said, but you was not willing to go to hell, was you? She replied, footnote, in plain English, thus, I could not help it, my heart would be wicked for all I could do. I could not make it good. End footnote. Could not me help it, me heart he would be wicked for all. Could not, not me, make him good. I asked her how she got out of this case. She answered, still in the same broken language, footnote, By and by my heart was exceedingly glad. My heart was glad that Jesus Christ would do with me what He pleased.
Then I thought my heart would be glad, although Christ should send me to hell. I did not care where He put me. I should love Him for all, i.e., do what He would with me.
Bye-bye, my heart be glad desperately. I asked her why her heart was glad. She replied, Glad my heart, Jesus Christ, do what you please with me. Den me tink, glad my heart, Jesus Christ, send me to hell. Did not me care where he put me, me love for him all. And she could not readily be convinced, but that she was willing to go to hell if Christ was pleased to send her there. Though the truth evidently was her will was so swallowed up in the divine will that she could not frame any hell in her imagination that would be dreadful, provided it was the will of God to send her to it. Twenty-fifth. The Indians have been used upon Christmas days to drink and revel among the white people. I thought proper to call them together and discourse to them upon divine things, which I accordingly did from the parable of the barren fig tree, Luke chapter 13, verse 6.
The power of God appeared in the assembly by awakening several stupid creatures that were scarce ever moved with any concern before. The impressions made upon the assembly in general seemed not superficial, but deep and heart affecting. Oh, how ready did they appear to comply with everything they were convinced was their duty. God was in the midst of us a truth, bowing and melting stubborn hearts. How many tears and sobs were then to be seen and heard among us? What liveliness and strict attention! What eagerness and intenseness of mind! They seemed to watch and wait for the dropping of God's word as the thirsty earth for the, quote, former and latter rain, end quote.
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Twenty-sixth. This evening I was visited by a person under great spiritual exercise. She was a woman of more than four-score years old, and appeared to be much broken and very childish through age, so that it seemed impossible for man to instill into her mind any notion of divine things. She was led by the hand into my house and appeared in extreme anguish. I asked what ailed her. She answered that her heart was distressed, and she feared she should never find Christ. I asked when she began to be concerned. She answered to this effect, that she had heard me preach many times, but never felt in her heart until the last Sabbath. And then it came, she said, all one as if a needle had been thrust into her heart, since which time she had no rest day or night.
She added that on the evening before Christmas, a number of Indians being together at the house where she was, And, discoursing about Christ, their talk pricked her heart so that she could not sit up, but fell down on her bed, at which time she went away, as she expressed it, and felt as if she dreamed, and yet is confident she did not dream. When she was thus gone she saw two paths. One appeared very broad and crooked, and that turned to the left hand. The other appeared straight and very narrow, and that went up the hill to the right hand. She traveled, she said, for some time up the narrow right-hand path, till at length something seemed to obstruct her journey. She sometimes called it darkness, and sometimes seemed to compare it to a block or bar.
She then remembered, she says, what she had heard me say about striving to enter in at the straight gate, although she took little notice of it at the time, and thought she would climb over this bar. But just as she was thinking of this, she came back again, as she termed it, meaning that she came to herself, whereupon her soul was extremely distressed, apprehending she had now turned back and forsaken Christ, and that there was, therefore, no hope of mercy for her. I then proposed to her the provision made in the Gospel for the salvation of sinners, and the ability and willingness of Christ to save to the uttermost all, old as well as young, that come to Him. To which she seemed to give a hearty assent, but instantly replied, I, but I cannot come.
My wicked heart will not come to Christ. I do not know how to come. And this she spoke in anguish of spirit, striking her breast with tears in her eyes and with such earnestness in her looks as was indeed affecting. She seemed to be really convinced of her sin and misery and her need of a change of heart, and her concern is abiding and constant. So that nothing appears but that this exercise may have a saving issue. And indeed, there is ground to hope for it, seeing she is solicitous to obtain an interest in Christ, that her heart, as she expresses it, prays day and night. December 28th. I discoursed to my people in the catechetical method I lately entered upon. And in the improvement of my discourse, wherein I was comparing man's present with his primitive state, and pressing sinners to take a view of their deplorable circumstances without Christ, as also to strive that they may obtain an interest in Him, the Lord granted a remarkable influence of His blessed Spirit, and there was a great concern in the assembly.
Many were melted into tears, and the impressions made upon them seemed deep and heart-affecting. And in particular, there were two or three persons who appeared to be reduced almost to extremity, being convinced of the impossibility of helping themselves, or mending their own hearts, and upon the point of giving up all hope in themselves and venturing upon Christ as naked, helpless, and undone. Lord's Day, December 29th. I preached from John, chapter 3, verses 1 through 5. A number of white people were present, as is usual on the Sabbath. The discourse seemed to have a silent but deep and piercing influence upon the audience. Many wept and sobbed affectionately, and there were some tears among the white people as well as the Indians.
Some could not refrain from crying out, but the impressions made upon their hearts appeared chiefly by the extraordinary earnestness of their attention and their heavy sighs and tears. After public service was over, I went to my house, proposing to preach again after a short intermission. But they soon came in, one after another, with tears in their eyes, to know what they should do to be saved. And the Divine Spirit in such a manner set home upon their hearts what I spoke to them, that the house was soon filled with cries and groans. They all flocked together upon this occasion, and those whom I had reason to think in a Christless state were almost universally seized with concern for their souls.
It was an amazing season of power among them, and it seemed as if God So astonishing prevalent was the operation upon old as well as young, that it seemed as if God was about to convert all the world. And I was ready to think then that I should never again despair of the conversion of any man or woman living. It is impossible to give a just description of the appearance of things this season. A number were rejoicing that God had not taken away the influence of His blessed Spirit. Refreshed to see so many striving to enter in at the strait gate, and animated with such concern for them that they wanted to push them forward, as some of them expressed it. At the same time, numbers, both of men and women, old and young, might be seen in tears and some in anguish of spirit, appearing in their countenances like condemned malefactors going towards the place of execution.
So that there seemed a lively emblem of the solemn day of accounts, a mixture of heaven and hell, of joy unspeakable, and anguish inexpressible. The concern was such that I could not pretend to have any formal religious exercises among them, but spent the time in discoursing to one and another, sometimes all together, and concluded with prayer. Such were their circumstances that I could scarce have half an hour's rest from speaking from about half an hour before twelve o'clock, At which time I began public worship. Until past seven at night. December 30th. I was visited by four or five young persons under concern for their souls, most of whom were very lately awakened. They wept much while I discoursed to them, and endeavored to press upon them the necessity of flying to Christ without delay for salvation.
I spent some hours this day in visiting my people from house to house, and scarce left a house without leaving some or other of its inhabitants in tears, solicitously engaged to obtain an interest in Christ. The Indians are now gathered together from all quarters to this place, and have built them little cottages so that more than twenty families live within a quarter of a mile of me. A very convenient situation in regard of both public and private instruction. January 1, 1745. I am this day beginning a new year, and God has carried me through numerous trials and labors in the past. He has amazingly supported my feeble frame, for having obtained help of God I continue to this day. Oh, that I might live nearer to God this year than I did the last!
The business that I have been enabled to go through I know has been as great as nature could bear up under, and what would have sunk me quite without special support. But alas, though I have done the labors and endured the trials, with what spirit have I done the one and borne the other? How cold has my heart often been, and how little have I eyed the glory of God! I have found that I could have no peace without filling up all my time with labors, and thus necessity has been laid upon me. Yea, in that respect I have loved to labor, but I could not sensibly labor for God as I would have done. May I, for the future, be enabled more sensibly to make the glory of God my all. This day I spent some considerable time in visiting my people again, and found scarce one but what was under some serious impressions.
Second, I visited some persons newly come along us who had scarce ever heard anything of Christianity but the name. I endeavored to instruct them in the first principles of religion in the most easy and familiar manner I could. There are strangers almost continually dropping in so that I have occasion repeatedly to open and inculcate the first principles of Christianity. Near night, I proposed to have proceeded in my usual method of catechizing. But while we were engaged in the first prayer, the power of God came upon the assembly in so remarkable a manner, and so many appeared under present concern, that I thought it much more expedient to insist upon the plentiful provision made for the redemption of perishing sinners, and to press them to a speedy acceptance of the great salvation, than to ask them questions about doctrinal points.
I baptized two persons this day, one adult and one child. The woman has discovered an heavenly frame of mind from her first reception of comfort. One morning in particular she came to see me, discovering an unusual joy in her countenance, and when I inquired the reason of it she replied that God had made her feel that it was right for him to do as he pleased with all things. She moreover inquired whether I was not sent to preach to the Indians by some good people a great way off. I replied, yes, by the good people in Scotland. She answered that her heart loved those good people so, the evening before, that she could scarce help praying for them all night. Her heart would go to God for them. January 8th.
My heart was drawn out after God. My soul was refreshed and quickened. I had great hopes of the ingathering of precious souls to Christ, not only among my own people, but others also. I was sweetly resigned and composed under my bodily weakness, and was willing to live or die, and desirous to labor for God to the utmost of my strength. January 10th. My soul was in a calm, composed frame and filled with love to all the world. Christian simplicity and tenderness seemed to prevail and reign with me. Nearer night, I visited a serious Baptist minister and had some agreeable conversation with him. 13th. I was visited by diverse persons under deep concern, one of whom was newly awakened. It is a most agreeable work to treat with souls who are solicitously inquiring what they should do to be saved.
And as we are never to be weary in well-doing, so the obligation is peculiarly strong when the work is so lively. And yet my health is so much impaired, and my spirit's so wasted with my labors and solitary manner of living, there being no human creature in the house with me, that their repeated and almost incessant applications to me for help and direction are sometimes exceedingly burdensome. And what contributes much toward this difficulty is that I am obliged to spend much time in communicating a little matter to them, there being often many things necessary to be premised, before I can speak directly to what I principally aim at, which things would readily be taken for granted, where there was a competency of knowledge.
Lord's Day, January 19th. I catechized in my ordinary method. Numbers were much affected, convictions powerfully revived, diverse of the Christians refreshed and strengthened, and one weary, heavy-laden soul, I have reason to hope, was brought to true rest and solid comfort in Christ. He told me he had often heard me say that persons must see and feel themselves helpless and undone, that they must give up all hope of saving themselves by their own doings in order to their coming to Christ for salvation. And he had long been striving after this, supposing that this would be an excellent frame of mind, that God would have respect to this frame and bestow eternal life upon him. But when he came to feel himself in this helpless, undone condition, he found it quite contrary to all his thoughts, so that it was not the same, nor indeed anything like the frame he had been seeking after.
Instead of its being a good frame of mind, he now found nothing but badness in himself, and saw it was forever impossible for him to make himself any better. He was amazed he had never before seen that it was utterly impossible for him, by all his contrivances and endeavors, to do anything that way. Instead of imagining that God would be pleased with him for the sake of this frame of mind, he saw clearly it would be just with God to send him to eternal misery, and that there was no goodness in what he then felt, for he could not help seeing that he was naked, sinful, and miserable, and there was nothing in such a sight to deserve God's love or pity. In this frame of mind he came to public worship this evening, and while I was inviting sinners to come to Christ, naked and empty, He thought that he had often tried to come and give up his heart to Christ, and he used to hope that sometime or other he should be able to do so.
But now he was convinced he could not, and it seemed utterly vain for him ever to try any more. Nor did he now hope for a better opportunity hereafter, as he had formerly done, because he saw and was fully convinced his own strength would forever fail. While he was musing in this manner, he saw, he said, with his heart, which is a common phrase among them, something that was unspeakably good and lovely, and what he had never seen before. And this stole away his heart whether he would or no. He did not, he said, know what it was he saw. He did not say, this is Jesus Christ, but it was such glory and beauty as he never saw before. He did not now give away his heart so as he had formerly attempted to do.
But it went away of itself after that glory he then discovered. He used to try to make a bargain with Christ, to give up his heart to him that he might have eternal life for it. But now he thought nothing about himself, but his mind was wholly taken up with the unspeakable excellency of what he then beheld. After some time he was wonderfully pleased with the way of salvation by Christ, so that it seemed unspeakably better to be saved altogether by the mere free grace of God in Christ than to have any hand in saving himself. And the consequence is that he appears to retain a relish of divine things and to maintain a life of true religion. Lord's Day, January 26th After public worship, I was in a sweet and solemn frame of mind, thankful to God that he had made me in some measure faithful in addressing precious souls, but grieved that I had been no more fervent in my work, and tenderly affected towards all the world, longing that every sinner might be saved.
and could not have entertained any bitterness towards the worst enemy living. In the evening I rode to Elizabethtown. While riding I was almost constantly engaged in lifting up my heart to God, lest I should lose that sweet heavenly solemnity and composure of soul I enjoyed. Afterwards I was pleased to think that God reigneth. And thought, I could never be uneasy with any of his dispensations, but must be entirely satisfied whatever trials he should cause me or his church to encounter. I never felt more divine serenity and composure of mind. I could freely have left the dearest earthly friend, for the society of angels and spirits of just men made perfect. My affection soared aloft to the blessed author of every dear enjoyment.
I viewed the emptiness and unsatisfactory nature of the most desirable earthly objects any further than I would.
Twenty-eighth. The Indians in these parts, having in times past run themselves in debt by their excessive drinking, and some having taken the advantages of them and arrested sundry of them, whereby it was supposed their hunting lands might speedily be taken from them, I, being sensible that they could not subsist together in these parts if these lands should drop out of their hands, thought it my duty to use my utmost endeavors to prevent it. And having acquainted the gentlemen concerned in this mission with the affair, they thought it proper to expend the money they had been collecting for the religious interest of the Indians, at least a part of it, for the discharging of their debts and securing these lands.
And having received orders from them, I answered in behalf of the Indians, 82 pounds, five shillings, New Jersey currency. 31st. This day, the person I had engaged for a schoolmaster among the Indians arrived among us and was heartily welcomed by my people. Whereupon I distributed several dozen of primers among the children and young people. February 1st. My schoolmaster entered upon his business among the Indians. He has generally about thirty children and young persons in his school in the daytime, and about fifteen married people in his evening school. The number of the latter sort of persons being less than it would be if they could be more constant at home. In the evening, I catechized in my usual method.
Towards the close of my discourse, a surprising power seemed to attend to the word. One man, considerably in years, who had been a remarkable drunkard, a conjurer, and a murderer, that was awakened some months before, was now brought to great extremity, so that he trembled for hours together, and apprehended himself just dropping into hell, without any power to rescue or relieve himself. Diverse others appeared under great concern as well as he and solicited us to obtain a saving change. February 10th. He set out on a journey to visit the Forks of Delaware to visit the Indians there. He performed the journey under great weakness and sometimes was exercised with much pain. He arrived at his own house at the Forks on Friday.
I baptized three persons, two adults and one child. There was a considerable melting in the assembly while I was administering the ordinance. God has been pleased to own and bless the administration of this, as well as of his other ordinances among the Indians. There are some here that have been powerfully awakened at seeing others baptized, and some that have obtained relief and comfort just in the season when this ordinance has been administered. Towards night I catechized. God made this a powerful season. There were many affected. Former convictions were powerfully revived. There was likewise one who had been a vile drunkard, remarkably awakened. He appeared to be in great anguish of soul, wept and trembled, and continued so to do till near midnight.
There was also a poor, heavy-laden soul who had been long under spiritual distress that was now brought to a comfortable calm, and told me, she now saw and felt it was right God should do with her as he pleased, and added that the heavy burden she had laid under was now removed. That she felt she could never do anything to save herself, but must perish forever if Christ did not do all for her. But Christ could save her, though she could do nothing to save herself.
Knowing that divers of the Indians in those parts were obstinately set against Christianity, I thought it proper to have some of my people from Cross Week Song with me, in order to converse with them. Hoping it might be a means to convince them of the truth, to see and hear some of their own nation discoursing of divine things, and manifesting earnest desires that others might be brought out of heathenish darkness as themselves were. And having taken half a dozen of the most serious and knowing persons, I this day met with them and the Indians of this place, sundry of whom could not have been prevailed upon to attend the meeting, had it not been for these Indians that accompanied me. And preached to them.
Some of them who had, in times past, been extremely averse to Christianity, now behaved soberly, though others laughed and mocked. However, the Word of God fell with such weight and power that several seemed to be stunned, and expressed a willingness to hear me again of these matters. After public worship, I spent some time to convince those that mocked of the truth and importance of what I had been insisting upon. And I had reason to think that my endeavors took effect upon one of the worst of them. Those few Indians then present, who used to be my hearers in these parts, some having removed from thence to Cross Week Sung, seemed glad to see me again, although they had been so much attacked by some of the opposing pagans that they were almost afraid to manifest their friendship.
In the evening I was in a composed frame of mind. It was exceedingly refreshing to think that God had been with me, affording me some good measure of assistance. I found freedom in prayer for my dear friends and acquaintance. Blessed be the name of the Lord, that ever I am enabled to do anything for His interest and kingdom. Blessed be God who enables me to be faithful. I enjoyed more resolution for God and more refreshment of spirits than I have been favored with for many weeks past. February 17th. I discoursed from Acts, chapter 8, verses 5 through 8. A divine influence seemed to attend the word. Sundry of the Indians here appeared to be somewhat awakened and manifested a concern by their earnest attention, tears, and sobs.
My people from Cross Week sung, continued with them day and night, repeating and inculcating the truths I had taught them, and sometimes prayed and sung psalms among them. Discoursing with each other in their hearing of the great things God had done for them and for the Indians from whence they came, which seemed to take more effect upon them than when they directed their discourses immediately to them. Eighteenth. I preached to an assembly of Irish people near fifteen miles distant from the Indians. Nineteenth. I preached to the Indians again, after having spent a considerable time in conversing with them privately. There appeared a great solemnity and some concern and affection among the Indians belonging to these parts, as well as a sweet melting among those who came with me.
Diverse of the Indians here seemed to have their prejudices removed and appeared well disposed to hear the word of God. 20. I preached to a small assembly of high Dutch people who had seldom heard the gospel, and were, some of them at least, very ignorant, but diverse of them have lately been put upon an inquiry after the way of salvation. They gave wonderful attention, and some of them were much affected, and afterwards said, as I was informed, that they never had been so much enlightened about the way of salvation in their whole lives before. They requested me to tarry with them, or come again and preach to them.
Twenty-first.
Sundry of the aforementioned High Dutch attended the sermon, though eight or ten miles distant from their houses. Diverse of the Indians also belonging to these parts came of their own accord, with my people from Crossweeksong, to the meeting, two in particular who on the last Sabbath opposed and ridiculed Christianity. Twenty-second, I preached to the Indians. They seemed more free from prejudice and more cordial to Christianity than before, and some appeared much affected. My spirits were supported, though my bodily strength was much wasted. Oh, that God would be gracious to the souls of these poor Indians! God has been very gracious to me this week. He has enabled me to preach every day and has given me some assistance and an encouraging prospect of success in almost every sermon.
Blessed be His name. Diverse of the white people have been awakened this week, sundry of the Indians, much cured of the prejudices and jealousies they had conceived against Christianity, and some seemed to be really awakened. The next day, he left the Forks of Delaware to return to Cross Week Song, and preached by the way every day, excepting one, and was several times greatly assisted. He had much inward comfort and earnest longings to fill up his time with the service of God. Lord's Day, March 2nd. Some of my people who went up to the Forks of Delaware with me, being now returned, were accompanied by two of the Indians belonging to the Forks, who had promised me a speedy visit. They can scarce go into a house now, but they will meet with Christian conversation, whereby they may be both instructed and awakened.
I know of no assembly of Christians where there seems to be so much of the presence of God, where brotherly love so much prevails, as in my own congregation. Although not more than nine months ago, they were worshipping devils and dumb idols under the power of pagan darkness and superstition. Amazing change, affected by nothing less than divine power and grace. Their present situation is so compact and commodious that they are quickly caught together with only the sound of a conch shell, a shell like that of a periwinkle, so that they have frequent opportunities of attending religious exercises publicly. which seems to be a great means under God of keeping alive their impressions of divine things.
March 6th. I walked alone in the evening and enjoyed comfort in prayer beyond what I have of late enjoyed. My soul rejoiced in my pilgrimage. I was delighted with the thought of laboring and enduring hardness for God, and confided in God that He never would leave me nor forsake me to the end of my race. Oh, may I obtain mercy of God to be faithful to my dying moment. Eighth. I catechized in the evening. My people answered the questions proposed to them well. I can perceive their knowledge in religion increases daily, and what is still more desirable, the divine influence among them appears still to continue. The divine presence seemed to be in the assembly this evening. Some who are Christians, indeed, were melted with a sense of the divine goodness and their own barrenness and ingratitude.
Convictions also appeared to revive in several, so it might justly be called an evening of power. Lord's Day, March 9th. I preached from Luke chapter 10, verses 38 through 42. The Word of God was attended with energy. Numbers were affected and concerned to obtain the one thing needful. Several that have given good evidences of being truly gracious were much affected with a sense of their want of spirituality, and saw the need they stood in of growing in grace. And most that had had any impression of divine things in times past now felt those impressions revived. In the afternoon, I proposed to have catechized in my usual method, but while we were engaged in the first prayer, in the Indian language as usual, a great part of the assembly was so much moved that I thought it proper to omit the questions and insist upon the most practical truths.
There appeared to be a powerful influence in the congregation. Those truly pious were so deeply affected with a sense of their own barrenness, and their own unworthy treatment of their blessed Redeemer, that they looked on Him as pierced by themselves, and mourned, yea, some of them were in bitterness as for a firstborn. Some poor awakened sinners also appeared to be in anguish of soul to obtain an interest in Christ, so that there was a great mourning in the assembly, many heavy groans and tears. And one or two persons, newly come among us, were considerably awakened. After public worship, many came to my house, where we sung and discoursed, and the presence of God seemed here also to be in the midst of us.
While we were singing, there was one, the woman mentioned in my journal of February 9th, who, I may venture to say, was filled with joy unspeakable and full of glory, and could not but burst forth in prayer and praises to God before us all, with many tears. Crying, sometimes in English and sometimes in Indian. Oh, blessed Lord, do come, do come. Oh, do take me away. Do let me die and go to Jesus Christ. I am afraid if I live, I shall sin again. Oh, do let me die now. Oh, dear Jesus, do come. I cannot stay. I cannot stay. Oh, how can I live in this world? Oh, let me never sin anymore. In this ecstasy she continued some time, uttering these and such like expressions incessantly. When she had a little recovered, I asked her if Christ was now sweet to her soul, whereupon, turning to me with tears in her eyes and with all the tokens of deep humility, she said, I have many times heard you speak of the goodness and the sweetness of Christ, that he was better than all the world.
But, oh, I knew nothing what you meant. I never believed you. I never believed you. But now I know it is true. I answered, And do you see enough in Christ for the greatest of sinners? She replied, Oh, enough, enough, for all the sinners in the world, if they would but come. And when I asked her if she could not tell them of the goodness of Christ, turning herself about to some poor Christless souls who stood by and were much affected, she said, Oh, there is enough in Christ for you, if you would but come. Oh, strive, strive to give up your hearts to Him. And upon hearing something of the glory of heaven mentioned, she again fell into the same ecstasy, repeating her former expressions. Oh, dear Lord, do let me go.
Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do? I want to go to Christ. I cannot live. Oh, do let me die. She continued in this sweet frame for more than two hours before she was well able to get home. I am sensible there may be great joys where there is no substantial evidence of their being well-grounded, but in the present case there seemed to be no evidence wanting in order to prove this joy to be divine, either in regard of its preparatives, attendance, or consequence. Of all the persons I have seen, I scarce ever saw one more bowed and broken under convictions of sin than this woman, nor scarce anyone who seemed to have a greater acquaintance with her own heart than she had. She would frequently complain to me of the hardness and rebellion of her heart, that her heart was not willing to come to Christ for salvation, but tried everywhere else for help.
And as she was remarkably sensible of her stubbornness under conviction, so she appeared to be no less remarkably reconciled to divine grace before she obtained any relief. Since which she has constantly breathed the spirit and temper of a new creature, crying after Christ, though not through fear of hell as before, but with strong desires after him as her only satisfying portion, and as many times wept bitterly because she could not love him. When I have sometimes asked her why she appeared so sorrowful and whether it was because she was afraid of hell, she would answer, No, I be not distressed about that, but my heart is so wicked I cannot love Christ. And thereupon burst out into tears. But although this has been the habitual frame of her mind for several weeks, yet she never had any remarkable comfort till this evening.
The attendants of this comfort were such as abundantly discovered that it was truly joy in the Holy Ghost. Now she viewed divine truths as living realities, and could say, I know these things are so, I feel they are true. Now her soul was resigned to the divine will in the most tender points, so that when I said to her, What if God should take away your husband from you, who was then sick? How do you think you could bear that? She replied, He belongs to God and not to me. He may do with him just what he pleases. Now she had the most tender sense of the evil of sin and discovered the utmost aversion to it. Now she could freely trust her all with God for time and eternity. And when I queried with her how she could be willing to die and leave her little infant and what she thought would become of it in case she should.
She answered, God will take care of it. Now she appeared to have the most humbling sense of her own unworthiness and inability to preserve herself from sin, and to persevere in holiness. And I thought I had never seen such an appearance of ecstasy and humility meeting in any one person. The consequences of this joy are no less desirable than its attendance. She since appears to be a most tender, brokenhearted, affectionate, devout, and humble Christian. March 10. Toward night, the Indians met together of their own accord, and sang, prayed, and discoursed of divine things. At this time, there was much affection among them. Some appeared to be melted with divine things, and some others seemed much concerned for their souls.
I baptized the woman mentioned in my journal of last Lord's Day, who appeared to be in a devout, humble, and excellent frame of mind. My house being thronged with people in the evening, I spent the time with them, till my nature was almost spent. They are so unwearied in religious exercises, and insatiable in their thirstings after Christian knowledge, that I can sometimes scarce avoid laboring so, as greatly to exhaust my strength and spirits. Nineteenth. Some of the persons that went with me to the Forks of Delaware, having been detained there by the dangerous illness of one of their company, returned home this day. Whereupon my people met together of their own accord to give thanks to God for His preserving goodness to those who had been absent from them for several weeks, and recovering mercy to him that had been sick.
Lord's Day, March 23rd. There being about fifteen strangers, adult persons, come among us in the week past, diverse of whom had never been in any religious meeting till now. I thought it proper to discourse this day in a manner peculiarly suited to their circumstances, and accordingly attempted it from Hosea, chapter 8, verse 9 in the forenoon, opening in the plainest manner I could. Man's apostasy and ruined state, after having spoken some things respecting the being and perfections of God and His creation of man in a state of uprightness and happiness. In the afternoon I endeavored to open the glorious provision God has made for the redemption of apostate creatures. Near sunset I felt an uncommon concern upon my mind, especially for the poor strangers.
I visited sundry houses and discoursed with them severally, but without much appearance of success, till I came to a house where diverse of the strangers were, and there the word took effect, first upon some children, Then upon diverse adult persons that had been somewhat awakened before, and afterwards upon several of the pagan strangers. I continued my discourse till almost everyone in the house was melted into tears, and diverse wept aloud, and appeared earnestly concerned to obtain an interest in Christ. Upon this numbers soon gathered from all the houses round about, and so thronged the place that we were obliged to remove to the house where we usually meet for public worship. And the congregation gathered immediately, and many appearing remarkably affected, I discoursed some time from Luke chapter 19, verse 10, endeavoring to open the mercy, compassion, and concern of Christ for the lost, helpless, and undone sinners.
There was much visible concern in the assembly, and I doubt not, but a divine influence accompanied what was spoken to the hearts of many. There were five or six of the strangers, men and women, who appeared to be considerably awakened, and in particular one very rugged young man, who seemed as if nothing would move him, was now brought to tremble like the jailer and weep for a long time. The pagans that were awakened seemed at once to put off their savage roughness and became sociable, orderly, and humane. When they first came, I exhorted my people to take pains with them, as they had done with other strangers from time to time, to instruct them in Christianity. But when some of them attempted it, the strangers would soon rise up and walk to other houses.
Whereupon some of the serious persons agreed to disperse themselves into the several parts of the settlement, so that wherever the strangers went, they met with warm addresses respecting their soul's concern. But now there was no need of using policy in order to get an opportunity of conversing with them, for they were so touched with a sense of their perishing state, as tamely to yield to the closest addresses, respecting their sin and misery, and their need of an acquaintance with the Great Redeemer. Twenty-fourth. I numbered the Indians to see how many souls God had gathered together here since my coming, and found there was now about an hundred and thirty persons, old and young. And sundry of those that are my stated hearers, perhaps fifteen or twenty, were absent at this season.
Whereas few were together at my first coming into these parts, the whole number not amounting to ten persons. My people going out this day to clear some of their lands above fifteen miles distant in order to their settling there together Where they might attend the public worship of God, have their children schooled, and at the same time have a conveniency for planting, I thought it proper to call them together, and show them the duty of laboring with faithfulness and industry, and that they must not now be slothful in business.
In the evening I read and expounded the substance of the third chapter of Acts. Numbers seemed to melt under the word. When I asked them afterwards whether they did not now feel that their hearts were wicked, one replied, yes, she felt it now. Although before she came here, she had said her heart was not wicked, and she never had done anything that was bad in her life. And this indeed seems to be the case with them universally in the pagan state. They seem to have no consciousness of sin and guilt unless they can charge themselves with some gross acts of sin. Twenty-fifth. After the Indians were gone to their work, I got alone and poured out my soul to God, that He would smile upon these feeble beginnings, and that He would settle an Indian town that might be the mountain of holiness, and found my soul much refreshed and much enlarged in Zion's interest, and for numbers of dear friends in particular.
My sinking spirits were revived, and I felt animated in the service God has called me to. This was the dearest hour I have enjoyed for many days, if not weeks. I found an encouraging hope that something would be done for God, and that God would use and help me in this work. And oh, how sweet were the thoughts of laboring for God when I had any hope that I ever should be successful. The next day, his schoolmaster was taken with a pleurisy, and he spent a great part of the remainder of his week in attending to him, which in his weak state was almost too much for him. He being obliged constantly to wait upon him all day from day to day and to lie on the floor at night, his spirit sunk in a considerable degree with his bodily strength under this burden.
Twenty-ninth. In the evening I catechized as usual, treating upon the benefits which believers receive from Christ's death. The questions were answered with great readiness and propriety, and those who I have reason to think are the people of God were sweetly melted in general. There appeared such a liveliness and vigor in their attendance upon the word of God, and such eagerness to be made partakers of the benefits then mentioned, that they seemed to be not only looking for, but hastening to the coming of the day of God. Divine truth seemed to distill upon the audience with a gentle but melting efficacy, as the refreshing showers upon the new-mown grass. The assembly in general, as well as those who appear to be truly religious, were affected with an account of the blessedness of the godly at death, and most then discovered an affectionate inclination to cry, Let me die the death of the righteous.
31st. I called my people together as I had done the Monday before and discoursed to them again on the necessity of their laboring industriously, in order to their living together and enjoying the means of grace. And having engaged in solemn prayer to God among them, I dismissed them to their work. Numbers of them, both men and women, offered themselves willingly to this service, and some appeared affectionately concerned that God might go with them, and begin their little town for them, that by His blessing it might be a place comfortable for them and theirs, in regard both of procuring the necessaries of life, and of attending the worship of God. April 2nd. I was exercised with a spiritless frame of mind.
Alas, my days pass away as the chaff. It is but little I do, or can do, that turns to any account, and it is my constant misery and burden, that I am so fruitless in the vineyard of the Lord. Oh, that I were spirit, that I might be active for God. This, more than anything else, makes me long, that this corruptible might put on incorruption, and this mortal put on immortality. God deliver me from clogs, fetters, and a body of death that impede my service for Him. Fifth. After public worship, a number of my dear Christian Indians came to my house, with whom I felt a sweet union in my soul. My heart was knit to them, and I cannot say I have felt such a sweet and fervent love to the brethren for some time past.
And I saw in them appearances of the same love. This gave me something of a view of the heavenly state, and particularly that part of the happiness of heaven which consists in the communion of saints. Lord's Day, 6th. I preached from Matthew 7, verses 21-23. There were considerable effects of the word visible in the audience, and earnest attention, a great solemnity, many tears and sighs. Diverse were put upon serious and close examination of their spiritual state by hearing that not everyone that saith to Christ, Lord, Lord, shall enter into his kingdom. And some of them expressed fears lest they had deceived themselves and taken up a false hope, because they had done so little of the will of his Father who is in heaven.
There was also one man brought under pressing concern for his soul, which appeared more especially after his retirement from public worship. And that which, he says, gave him the greatest uneasiness was not so much any particular sin as that he had never done the will of God at all, and so had no claim to the kingdom of heaven. In the afternoon I opened to them the discipline of Christ in his church and the method in which offenders are to be dealt with, at which time religious people were much affected, especially when they heard that the offender continuing obstinate must finally be esteemed as an heathen man. That has no part nor lot among God's visible people. This they seem to have the most awful apprehensions of, a state of heathenism out of which they were so lately brought, appearing very dreadful to them.
After public worship, I visited sundry houses to see how they spent the remainder of the Sabbath, and to treat with them solemnly on the great concerns of their souls. And the Lord seemed to smile upon my endeavors, and to make these particular addresses more effectual than my public discourses. Seventh. I discoursed to my people from 1 Corinthians 11, verses 23-26, and endeavored to open to them the institution, nature, and ends of the Lord's Supper, as well as the qualifications and preparations necessary to the right participation of that ordinance. Sundry persons appeared much affected with the love of Christ manifested in his making this provision for the comfort of his people at a season when himself was just entering upon his sharpest sufferings.
On Tuesday, he went to a meeting of the Presbytery appointed at Elizabethtown. In his way thither he enjoyed some sweet meditations, but after he came there he was, as he expresses it, under an awful gloom that oppressed his mind. And this continued till Saturday evening, when he began to have some relief. He spent the Sabbath at Staten Island, where he preached to an assembly of Dutch and English, and enjoyed considerable refreshment and comfort, both in public and private. In the evening, he returned to Elizabethtown. Fourteenth. My spirits were raised and refreshed, and my mind composed, so that I was in a comfortable frame of soul most of the day. In the evening, my head was clear, my mind serene.
I enjoyed sweetness in secret prayer and meditation. Oh, how free, how comfortable, cheerful, and yet solemn do I feel when I am in a good measure freed from those damps and melancholy glooms that I often labor under. Fifteenth, my soul longed for more spirituality, and it was my burden that I could do no more for God. Oh, my barrenness is my daily affliction. Oh, how precious is time, and how it pains me to see it slide away, while I do so very little to any good purpose. Oh, that God would make me more fruitful and spiritual. Seventeenth, I enjoyed some comfort in prayer, some freedom in meditation, and composure in my studies. I spent some time in writing in the forenoon and in the afternoon in conversation with several dear ministers.
In the evening, I preached from Psalm chapter 73, verse 28. But it is good for me to draw near to God. God helped me to feel the truth of my text both in the first prayer and in sermon. I was enabled to pour out my soul to God with great freedom, fervency, and affection, and to speak with tenderness and yet with faithfulness, and divine truths seemed to fall with weight and influence upon the hearers. My heart was melted for the dear assembly, and I loved everybody in it, and scarce ever felt more love to immortal souls in my life. My soul cried, O that the dear creatures might be saved! O that God would have mercy on them! Lord's Day, 20th. This day he entered into the twenty-ninth year of his age.
I enjoyed some freedom and exercise of faith and prayer in the morning, especially when I came to pray for Zion. I was free from that gloomy discouragement that so often oppresses my mind, and my soul rejoiced in the hopes of Zion's prosperity and the enlargement of the dear kingdom of the Great Redeemer. Twenty-first. I was composed and comfortable most of the day, free from those gloomy damps that I am frequently exercised with. Had freedom and comfort in prayer several times, especially for Zion's enlargement and prosperity. And oh, how refreshing were these hopes to my soul! Oh, that the kingdom of the dear Lord might come! April 22nd. My mind was remarkably free from melancholy damps and animated in my work.
I found such fresh vigor and resolution in the service of God that the mountains seemed to become a plain before me. O blessed be God for an interval of refreshment and fervent resolution in my Lord's work. In the evening, my soul was refreshed in secret prayer, and my heart drawn out for divine blessings, especially for the Church of God and His interest among my own people, and for dear friends in remote places. O that Zion might prosper, and precious souls be brought home to God. April 25th. Having appointed the next Lord's Day for the administration of the Lord's Supper, this day was set apart for solemn fasting and prayer, to implore the blessing of God upon our design of renewing our covenant with Him, and with one another, and to entreat that His Divine Presence might be with us in our designed approach to His table.
The solemnity was observed not only by those who proposed to communicate, but by the whole congregation. In the former part of the day, I endeavored to open to my people the nature of a fast, and to instruct them in the duties of such a solemnity. In the afternoon, I insisted upon the special reasons there were for both our now engaging in these solemn exercises, both in regard of the need we stood in of divine assistance, in order to a due preparation for the sacred ordinance, and in respect of the manifest decline of God's work, here as to the effectual conviction and conversion of sinners. There, having been few of late, deeply awakened out of a state of security. The worship of God was attended with great solemnity and reverence, with much tenderness and many tears, by the truly religious, and there was some appearance of divine power upon those who had been awakened some time before.
After repeated prayer and attendance upon the word of God, I led them to a solemn renewal of their baptismal covenant, wherein they had explicitly and publicly given up themselves to God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, avouching Him to be their God, and at the same time renouncing their heathenish vanities, their idolatrous and superstitious practices, and solemnly engaging to take the Word of God for the rule of their lives, promising to walk together in love, to watch over themselves and one another, to lead lives of seriousness and devotion, and to discharge the relative duties incumbent upon them. This solemn transaction was attended with much seriousness, and at the same time with the utmost readiness and cheerfulness, and an union and harmony of soul seemed to crown the whole.
In the evening I catechized those that were designed to partake of the Lord's Supper the next day, upon the institution, nature, and end of that ordinance, and had abundant satisfaction respecting their knowledge. They likewise appeared, in general, to have an affecting sense of the solemnity of this sacred ordinance, and to be humbled under a sense of their own unworthiness to approach to God in it, and earnestly concerned that they may be duly prepared for an attendance upon it. Their hearts were full of love one toward another, and that was the frame of mind they seemed much concerned to maintain, and bring to the Lord's table with them. I administered the sacrament of the Lord's Supper to twenty-three persons of the Indians, the number of men and women being nearly equal, diverse others to the number of five or six, being now absent at the Forks of Delaware.
The ordinance was attended with great solemnity and with a most desirable tenderness and affection, and it was remarkable that in the performance of the sacramental actions, especially in the distribution of the bread, they seemed to be effected in a most lively manner. As if Christ had been really crucified before them. And the words of the institution, when repeated and enlarged upon, seemed to be entertained with the same full and firm belief and affectionate engagement of soul, as if the Lord Jesus Christ Himself had personally spoken to them. Having rested some time after the administration of the sacrament, I walked from house to house and conversed particularly with most of the communicants, and found they had been almost universally refreshed at the Lord's table.
As with new wine. And never did I see such an appearance of Christian love among any people in all my life. It was so remarkable that one might well have cried with an agreeable surprise, behold how they love one another. Toward night I discoursed on Titus chapter 2 verse 14 and insisted on the immediate design of Christ's death, viz, that he might redeem his people from all iniquity. This appeared to be a season of divine power. The religious people were much refreshed and seemed remarkably tender and affectionate, full of love, joy, peace, and desires of being completely redeemed from all iniquity, so that some of them afterwards told me they had never felt the like before. Convictions also appeared to be revived in many instances, and diverse persons were awakened whom I had never observed under any religious impressions before.
Such was the influence which attended our assembly that it seemed grievous to conclude the public worship. And the congregation, when dismissed, although it was then almost dark, appeared loath to leave the place that had been rendered so dear to them by the benefits enjoyed, while that quickening influence distilled upon them.
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Twenty-eighth. I concluded the Solemnity with a discourse upon John, Chapter 14, Verse 15, If ye love me, keep my commandments, at which time there appeared great tenderness in the audience in general, but especially in the communicants. Oh, how free! How engaged and affectionate did these appear in the service of God. They seemed willing to have their ears bored to the doorposts of God's house, and to be His servants forever. Observing numbers in this excellent frame, I thought it proper to improve this advantageous season. As Hezekiah did his great Passover, 2 Chronicles 31, in order to promote the blessed reformation begun among them, and accordingly proposed to them that they should renewedly enter into covenants before God, that they would watch over themselves and one another, and especially that they would watch against the sin of drunkenness, the sin that easily besets them.
They cheerfully complied with the proposal and explicitly joined in that covenant, whereupon I proceeded in the most solemn manner to call God to witness their sacred engagement, minded them of the greatness of the guilt they would contract in the violation of it, and that God would be a terrible witness against those who should presume to do so in the great and notable day of the Lord. It was a season of amazing solemnity, and a divine awe appeared upon the face of the whole assembly. Affectionate sighs and tears were frequent in the audience, and I doubt not but many silent cries were sent up to the fountain of grace, for grace sufficient to these solemn engagements. On Tuesday he went to Elizabethtown to attend the meeting of the Presbytery, and spent the time, while absent from his people, in a free and comfortable state of mind.
May 3rd. I rode from Elizabethtown home to my people at Cranberry, whither they are now removed, and where I hope God will settle them as a Christian congregation. I was refreshed in lifting up my heart to God while writing and enjoyed a thankful frame of spirit. Fourth. My people having now removed to their lands, I this day visited them and preached to them from Mark 4, verse 5. Endeavoring to show the reason there was to fear, lest many hopeful beginnings in religion might prove abortive, like the sea dropped upon stony places. Fifth, I visited them again and took care of their worldly concerns, giving them directions related to their business. I daily discover more and more of what importance it is to their religious interests that they become industrious, acquainted with the affairs of husbandry, and able, in a good measure, to raise the necessaries of life within themselves, for their present method of living greatly exposes them to temptations of various kinds.
Seventh. I spent most of the day in writing, as usual, and enjoyed some freedom in my work. I was favored with some comfortable meditations this day and in the evening, was in a sweet composed frame of mind, pleased and delighted to leave all with God, respecting myself for time and eternity, and respecting the people of my charge and dear friends. I had no doubt but that God would take care of me and of His own interest among my people, and was enabled to use freedom in prayer as a child with a tender father. Eighth. In the evening I was refreshed and enjoyed a tender melting frame in secret prayer, wherein my soul was drawn out for the interest of Zion and comforted with the lively hope of the appearing of the kingdom of the great Redeemer.
These were sweet moments. I felt almost loath to go to bed and grieved that sleep was necessary. However, I lay down with a tender, reverential fear of God, sensible that His favor is life, and His smiles better than all that earth can boast of, infinitely better than life itself. Ninth, I preached from John, chapter 5, verse 40, in the open wilderness, the Indians having as yet no house for public worship in this place, nor scarce any shelter for themselves. Divine truth made considerable impressions upon the audience, and it was a season of solemnity, tenderness, and affection. I baptized one man this day, the conjurer and murderer mentioned before, who appears to be such a remarkable instance of divine grace that I cannot omit some brief account of him.
He lived near and sometimes attended me in the Forks of Delaware for more than a year together, but was extremely attached to strong drink and seemed to be no ways reformed by the means I used with him. In this time he likewise murdered a young Indian, which threw him into a kind of horror and desperation, so that he kept at a distance from me and refused to hear me preach for several months together, till I had an opportunity of conversing freely with him and giving him encouragement that his sin might be forgiven for Christ's sake. But that which was the worst was his conjuration. He was one of them who are called powwows among the Indians, and notwithstanding his frequent attendance upon my preaching, he still followed his old charms, giving out that he himself was some great one, and to him they gave heed, supposing him to be possessed of a great power.
So that when I instructed them respecting miracles wrought by Christ, and mentioned them as evidences of His divine mission, they quickly observed the wonders of that kind which this man had performed by his magic charms, whence they had a high opinion of Him, which seemed to be a fatal obstruction to their receiving the gospel. And I often thought it would be a great favor to the Indians if God would take that wretch out of the world. But God only, whose thoughts are not as man's thoughts, has been pleased to take a much more desirable method, a method agreeable to his own merciful nature, and I trust advantageous to his own interests among the Indians as well as to the poor soul himself. The first genuine concern for his soul that ever appeared in him was excited by seeing my interpreter and his wife baptized at the Forks of Delaware, July 21, 1745.
Which so prevailed upon him that he followed me down to Cross Weeksung in the beginning of August, in order to hear me preach, and there continued for several weeks, in the season of the most powerful awakenings among the Indians, at which time he was more effectually wakened. And then upon this, feeling the word of God in his heart, as he expresses it, his spirit of conjuration left him entirely, that he has had no more power of that nature since then any other man. And he declares that he does not know so much as how he used to charm and conjure, and that he could not do anything of that nature if he was ever so desirous. He continued under convictions all the fall and former part of the winter passed, but was not so deeply exercised till January.
And then the word of God took such hold upon him that he knew not what to do, nor where to turn. He told me that when he used to hear me preach from time to time in the fall of the year, my preaching pricked his heart, but did not bring him to so great distress, because he still hoped he could do something for his own relief. But now, he said, I drove him up into such a sharp corner that he had nowhere to turn. He continued constantly under the heavy burden of a wounded spirit, till at length he was brought into the utmost agony of soul. After this he was brought to a kind of calmness. His heavy burden was removed, and he appeared perfectly sedate, although he had no sure hope of salvation. I observed him to appear remarkably composed, and thereupon asked him how he did.
He replied, It is done. It is done. It is all done now. I asked him what he meant. He answered, I can never do any more to save myself. It is all done forever. I can do no more. I queried with him whether he could not do a little more rather than go to hell. He replied, My heart is dead. I can never help myself. I asked him what he thought would become of him then. He answered, I must go to hell. I asked him if he thought it was right that God should send him to hell. He replied, Oh, it is right. The devil has been in me ever since I was born. I asked him if he felt this when he was in such great distress the evening before. He answered, No. I did not then think it was right. I thought God would send me to hell, and that I was then dropping into it.
But my heart quarreled with God and would not say it was right he should send me there. But now I know it is right, for I have always served the devil, and my heart has no goodness in it now, but it is as bad as ever it was. I thought that I had scarce ever seen any person more effectually brought off from a dependence upon his own endeavors for salvation. In this frame of mind he continued for several days, passing sentence of condemnation upon himself and constantly owning that it would be right he should be damned, and that he expected this would be his portion. And yet it was plain he had a secret hope of mercy, which kept him not only from despair, but from pressing distress, so that instead of being sad and dejected, his very countenance appeared pleasant and agreeable.
It was remarkable in this season that he seemed to have a great love to the people of God, and nothing affected him so much as the thoughts of being separated from them. This seemed to be a very dreadful part of the hell he thought himself doomed to. It was likewise remarkable that in this season he was most diligent in the use of all the means for his soul's salvation, although he had the clearest view of the insufficiency of means to afford him help. After he had continued in this frame of mind, More than a week, while I was discoursing publicly, he seemed to have a lively view of the excellency of Christ and the way of salvation by him which melted him into tears and filled him with admiration, comfort, and praise to God, since which he has appeared to be an humble, devoted, and affectionate Christian, serious and exemplary in his conversation and behavior, frequently complaining of his barrenness, his want of spiritual warmth, life, and activity.
And yet frequently favored with quickening influences. In all respects, he bears the marks of one created anew in Christ Jesus to good works. His zeal for the cause of God was pleasing to me when he was with me at the Forks of Delaware in February last. There being an old Indian at the place who threatened to bewitch me and my people who accompanied me, this man presently challenged him to do his worst, telling him, That himself had been as great a conjurer as he, and that notwithstanding, as soon as he felt that word in his heart which these people loved, his power of conjuring immediately left him. And so it would you, said he, if you did but once feel it in your heart. And you have no power to hurt them, not so much as to touch one of them.
May 10th. I rode to Allen's town to assist in the administration of the Lord's Supper. In the afternoon, I preached from Titus 2, verse 14. God was pleased to carry me through with some freedom, and yet to deny me that enlargement I longed for. In the evening my soul mourned that I had treated so excellent a subject in so defective a manner, and if my discourse had met with the utmost applause from all the world, it would not have given me any satisfaction. Oh, it grieved me to think that I had no more holy warmth, that I had been no more melted in discoursing of Christ's death and the design of it. Afterwards, I enjoyed freedom and fervency in secret and family prayer, and longed much for the presence of God to attend His word and ordinances the next day.
Lord's Day, 11th. I assisted in the administration of the Lord's Supper, but enjoyed little enlargement. In the afternoon I went to the house of God, weak and sick in soul, as well as feeble in body, and longed that the people might be edified with divine truths, and that an honest, fervent testimony might be borne for God, but knew not how it was possible for me to do anything of that kind to any good purpose. Yet God, who was rich in mercy, was pleased to give me assistance, both in prayer and preaching. God helped me to wrestle for His presence in prayer, and to tell Him that He had promised, where two or three are met together in His name, there He would be in the midst of them. And pleaded that for His truth's sake He would be with us.
And blessed be God, it was sweet to my soul thus to plead and rely on God's promises. I discoursed upon Luke chapter 9 verse 30. And behold, there talked with him two men, which were Moses and Elias, who appeared in glory and spake of his decease, which he should accomplish at Jerusalem. I enjoyed special freedom from the beginning to the end of my discourse. Things pertinent to the subject were abundantly presented to my view, and such a fullness of matter that I scarce knew how to dismiss the various heads I had occasion to touch upon. And blessed be the Lord, I was favored with some fervency and power as well as freedom, so that the word of God seemed to awaken the attention of a stupid audience to a considerable degree.
I was inwardly refreshed with the consolations of God, and could with my whole heart say, Though there be no fruit in the vine, etc., yet will I rejoice in the Lord.
Near night I enjoyed some agreeable conversation with a dear minister, which I trust was blessed to my soul, and my heart was warmed and my soul engaged to live to God, so that I longed to exert myself with more vigor than ever I had done in His cause, and those words were quickening to me. Herein is my Father glorified that ye bring forth much fruit. Oh, my soul longed and wished and prayed to be enabled to live to God with constancy and ardor. In the evening God was pleased to shine upon me in secret prayer and draw out my soul after Him, and I had freedom in supplication for myself, but much more in intercession for others, so that I was sweetly constrained to say, Lord, use me as thou wilt, do as thou wilt with me, but O promote thine own cause.
Zion is thine. O visit thine heritage. O let thy kingdom come. O let thy blessed interest be advanced in the world. When I attempted to look to God, respecting my settling in my congregation, which seems to be necessary and yet very difficult and contrary to my fixed intention for years past, as well as my disposition, which has been and still is to go forth and spend my life in preaching the gospel from place to place and gathering souls far off to Jesus the Great Redeemer. When I attempted to look to God with regard to these things, I could only say, The will of the Lord be done. It is no matter to me. The same frame of mind I felt with respect to another important affair I have lately had some serious thoughts of.
I could say with the utmost calmness and composure, Lord, if it be most for Thy glory, let me proceed in it. But if Thou seest that it will, in any wise, hinder my usefulness in Thy cause, O prevent my proceeding. For all I want is such circumstances as may best capacitate me to do service for God in the world. Oh, how sweet was this evening to my soul! I knew not how to go to bed, and when I got to bed, longed for some way to improve time for God to some excellent purpose. Seventeenth. I walked out in the morning and felt much of the same frame I enjoyed the evening before, had my heart enlarged in praying for the advancement of the kingdom of Christ, and found the utmost freedom in leaving all my concerns with God.
I find discouragement to be an exceeding hindrance to my spiritual fervency and affection, but when God enables me to find that I have done something for Him, this refreshes and animates me, so that I could break through all hardships, undergo any labors, and nothing seems too much either to do or suffer. But oh, what a death it is to strive and strive, to be always in a hurry, and yet do nothing! Alas, alas, that time flies away, and I do so little for God. Lord's Day, 18th. I felt my own utter insufficiency for my work. God made me to see that I was a child, yea, that I was a fool. I discoursed both parts of the day from Revelation 3, verse 29. Behold, I stand at the door and knock. God gave me freedom and power in the latter part of my forenoon discourse, although in the former part of it I felt peevish and provoked with the unmannerly behavior of the white people who crowded in between my people and me.
But, blessed be God, I got those shackles off before the middle of my discourse, and was favored with a sweet frame of spirit in the latter part of the exercise, was full of love, warmth, and tenderness in addressing my dear people. In the intermission season, I could not but discourse to my people on the kindness and patience of Christ in standing and knocking at the door. In the evening I was grieved that I had done so little for God. Oh, that I could be a flame of fire in the service of my God! 22. In the evening I was in a frame somewhat remarkable. I had apprehended for several days that it was a design of providence I should dwell among my people, and had in my own mind thought to make provision for it, and yet was never quite pleased with the thoughts of being confined to one place.
Nevertheless, I seemed to have some freedom, because the congregation was one that God had enabled me to gather from among pagans. For I never could feel any freedom to enter into other men's labors and settle where the gospel was preached before. God has never given me any liberty in that respect, either since or for some years before I began to preach. But God having succeeded my labors and made me instrumental of gathering a church for Him among these Indians, I was ready to think it might be His design to give me a quiet settlement. And this, considering the late, frequent failure of my spirits and the need I stood in of some agreeable society, and my great desire of enjoying conveniences for profitable studies, was not altogether disagreeable to me.
And although I still wanted to go about far and wide in order to spread the blessed gospel among benighted souls, yet I never had been so willing to settle for more than five years past as I was in the foregoing part of this week. But now these thoughts seemed to be wholly dashed to pieces, not by necessity but by choice. For it appeared to me that God's dealings towards me had fitted me for a life of solitariness and hardship. It appeared to me I had nothing to lose, nothing to do with earth, and consequently nothing to lose by a total renunciation of it. And it appeared just right that I should be destitute of house and home, and many comforts which I rejoiced to see others of God's people enjoy.
At the same time I saw so much of the excellency of Christ's kingdom and the infinite desirableness of its advancement in the world that it swallowed up all my other thoughts and made me willing to be a pilgrim or hermit in the wilderness to my dying moment, if I might thereby promote the blessed interest of the great Redeemer. And if ever my soul presented itself to God for His service, without any reserve of any kind, it did so now. The language of my thoughts, although I spake no words, now was, Here I am, Lord, send me. Send me to the ends of the earth. Send me to the rough, the savage pagans of the wilderness. Send me from all that is called comfort on earth. Send me even to death itself, if it be but in thy service, and to promote thy kingdom.
And at the same time I had as quick and lively a sense of the value of worldly comforts as ever I had, but saw them infinitely overmatched by the worth of Christ's kingdom and the propagation of this blessed gospel. The quiet settlement, the certain place of abode, the tender friendship, which I thought I might be likely to enjoy, appeared as valuable to me, considered absolutely, and in themselves as ever before, but considered comparatively they appeared nothing, compared with an enlargement of Christ's kingdom. They vanished like the stars before the rising sun. And the comfortable accommodations of life appeared valuable and dear to me, yet I did surrender myself, soul, and body to the service of God and promotion of Christ's kingdom, though it should be in the loss of them all.
I was constrained, and yet chose to say, Farewell, friends, and earthly comforts, the dearest of them all, if the Lord calls for it. Adieu. Adieu. I will spend my life, to my latest moments, in caves and dens of the earth, if the kingdom of Christ may thereby be advanced. I found extraordinary freedom at this time in pouring out my soul to God for His cause, and especially that His kingdom might be extended among the Indians, and I had a strong hope that God would do it. I continued wrestling with God in prayer for my dear little flock here, and more especially for the Indians elsewhere, as well as for dear friends in one place and another, till it was bedtime and I feared I should hinder the family.
But oh, with what reluctancy did I find myself obliged to consume time in sleep! I longed to be as a flame of fire, continually glowing in the divine service, preaching and building up Christ's kingdom, to my latest, to my dying moment. Twenty-third. In the afternoon I was in the same frame of mind as in the evening before. The glory of Christ's kingdom so much outshone the pleasure of earthly accommodations and enjoyments that they appeared comparatively nothing, though in themselves good and desirable. My soul was melted in secret meditation and prayer, and I found myself divorced from any part in this world, so that in those affairs that seemed of the greatest importance in the present life, and those wherein the tender powers of the mind are most sensibly touched, I could only say, the will of the Lord be done.
Just the same that I felt the evening before. I felt now the same freedom in prayer for the people of my charge, for the propagation of the gospel among the Indians, and for the enlargement of Zion in general, and my dear friends in particular, and longed to burn out in one continual flame for God. In the evening, I was visited by my brother John Brainerd, the first visits I have received from any near relative since I have been a missionary. Blessed be God, if ever I filled up a day with studies and devotion, I was enabled to fill up this day. Lord's Day, May 25th. I discoursed both parts of the day from John, chapter 12, verses 44 through 48. There was some degree of divine power attending the Word of God.
Sundry wept and appeared considerably affected, and one, who had long been under spiritual trouble, obtained clearness and comfort and appeared to rejoice in God, her Savior. I have reason to hope that God has lately brought home to Himself sundry souls who have long been under spiritual trouble. Though there have been few instances of persons lately awakened out of a state of insecurity, and those comforted of late seemed to be brought in, in a more silent way, neither their concern nor consolation being so powerful and remarkable as appeared among those wrought upon in the beginning. June 6th. I discoursed to my people from part of Isaiah, chapter 53. The Divine Presence appeared to be amongst us.
Diverse persons were much melted and refreshed, and one man in particular was now brought to see and feel, in a very lively manner, the impossibility of his doing anything to help himself or to bring him into the favor of God by his tears, prayers, and other religious performances. Seventh. I rode to Freehold to assist Mr. Tennant in the administration of the Lord's Supper. In the afternoon, I preached from Psalm chapter 63, verse 28. God gave me some freedom and warmth in my discourse, and I trust His presence was in the assembly. I was comfortably composed and enjoyed a thankful frame of spirit, and my soul was grieved that I could not render anything to God for His benefits bestowed. Oh, that I could be swallowed up in His praise!
Lord's Day, June 8th. I spent much time in the morning in secret duties, but between hope and fear respecting the enjoyment of God in the business of the day. I was agreeably entertained in the forenoon by a discourse from Mr. Tennant and felt melted and refreshed. In the season of communion, I enjoyed some comfort, and especially in serving one of the tables. Blessed be the Lord, it was a time of refreshing to me, and I trust to many others. A number of my dear people sat down by themselves at the last table, at which time God seemed to be in the midst of them. And the thoughts of what God had done among them were refreshing and melting to me. In the afternoon, God enabled me to preach with uncommon freedom from 2 Corinthians 5, verse 20.
Through a great goodness of God, I was favored with a constant flow of matter and proper expressions. In the evening, I could not but rejoice in God and bless Him for the manifestations of grace in the day past. Oh, it was a sweet and solemn day, a season of comfort to the godly and of awakening to other souls. Ninth, I preached the concluding sermon from Genesis 5, verse 24, and Enoch walked with God. God gave me enlargement and fervency in my disclosure, so that I was enabled to speak with plainness and power. Praised be the Lord. It was a sweet meeting, a desirable assembly. I found my strength renewed and lengthened out, even to a wonder, so that I felt much stronger at the conclusion than in the beginning.
I have great reason to bless God for this solemnity, wherein I have found assistance in addressing others and sweetness in my own soul. Today, a considerable number of my people met together early in a retired place in the woods and prayed, sang, and conversed of divine things. And were seen by some of the white people to be affected and engaged, and diverse of them in tears. Afterwards, they attended the concluding exercises of the sacramental solemnity, and then returned home, rejoicing for all the goodness of God they had seen and felt, so that this appeared to be a profitable as well as a comfortable season to many of my congregation. Thirteenth, I came away from the meeting of the Indians this day, rejoicing and blessing God for His grace manifested at this season.
The same day, I baptized five persons, three adults and two children. One of these was the very aged woman of whom I gave an account in my journal of December 26th. She now gave me a very punctual, rational, and satisfactory account of the remarkable change she experienced some months after the beginning of her concern. And although she was become so childish through old age that I could do nothing in a way of questioning with her, Yet when I let her alone to go on with her own story, she could give a very distinct relation of the many and various exercises of soul she had experienced. So deep were the impressions left upon her mind by that influence she had been under. And I have great reason to hope she is born anew in her old age, she being, I presume, upwards of fourscore.
Fourteenth. I wrote to Kingston to assist the Reverend Mr. Wales in the administration of the Lord's Supper. In the afternoon I preached, but almost fainted in the pulpit. Yet God strengthened me when I was just gone, and enabled me to speak His word with freedom, fervency, and application to the conscience. And praised be the Lord, out of weakness I was made strong. I enjoyed sweetness in and after public worship, but was extremely tired. Oh, how many are the mercies of the Lord! To them that have no might, He increaseth strength. Lord's Day, June 15th. I was in a dejected, spiritless frame that I could not hold up my head nor look anybody in the face. Yet I administered the Lord's Supper at Mr.
Wales' desire and found myself in a good measure relieved for my pressing load when I came to ask a blessing on the elements. Here God gave me enlargement and a tender, affectionate sense of spiritual things, so that it was a season of comfort to me, and I trust more so to others. In the afternoon, I preached to a vast multitude from Revelation 22, verse 17. God helped me to offer a testimony for Himself and to leave sinners inexcusable in neglecting His grace. I was enabled to speak with such freedom, fluency, and clearness as commanded the attention of the great. I was extremely tired in the evening, but enjoyed composure and sweetness. Sixteenth. I preached again, and God helped me amazingly, so that this was a refreshing season to my soul and others.
Forever blessed be God for help afforded at this time, when my body was so weak and there was so large an assembly to hear. Nineteenth. I visited my people with two of the Reverend Correspondents. I spent some time in conversation with them upon spiritual things and took care of their worldly concerns. This day makes us a complete ear from the first time of my preaching to these Indians in New Jersey. What amazing things has God wrought in this time for these poor people! What a surprising change appears in their tempers and behavior! How are savage pagans transformed into affectionate and humble Christians, and their drunken and pagan howlings turned into fervent prayers and praises to God? They, who were sometimes darkness, are now become light in the Lord.
May they walk as children of the light and of the day. And now, to him that is of power to establish them according to the gospel and the preaching of Christ, to God only wise, be glory through Jesus.
Before I conclude, I would make a few general remarks upon what to me appears worthy of notice. And first, I cannot but take notice that I have Ever since my first coming among these Indians, been favored with that assistance, which to me is uncommon, in preaching Christ crucified and making Him the center and mark to which all my discourses were directed. It was the principal scope of all my discourses for several months, after having taught the people something of the being and perfections of God, His creation of man in a state of rectitude and happiness, and the obligations mankind were thence under to love and honor Him. To lead them into an acquaintance with their deplorable state by nature, their inability to deliver themselves from it, the utter insufficiency of any external reformation or of any religious performances to bring them into favor of God.
And thence to show them their absolute need of Christ to save them from the misery of their fallen state, to open His all-sufficiency and willingness to save the chief of sinners. The freeness and riches of His grace proposed, without money and without price, and thereupon to press them without delay to betake themselves to Him, under a sense of their misery and undone estate, for relief and everlasting salvation, and to show them the abundant encouragement that the Gospel proposes to perishing, helpless sinners so to do. And I have often remarked that whatever subject I have been upon, after having spent time sufficient to explain the truths contained therein, I have been naturally and easily led to Christ as the substance of every one.
If I treated on the being and glorious perfections of God, I was thence naturally led to discourse of Christ as the only way to the Father. If I attempted to open the misery of our fallen state, it was natural from thence to show the necessity of Christ to undertake for us, to atone for our sins, and to redeem us from the power of them. If I taught the commands of God and showed our violation of them, this brought me in the most easy way to speak of the Lord Jesus Christ as one who had magnified the law we had broken, and who was become the end of it for righteousness to everyone who believes. And never did I find so much freedom and assistance in making all the various lines of my discourses meet together and center in Christ, as I have frequently done among these Indians.
I have frequently been enabled to represent the divine glory, the infinite preciousness and transcendent loveliness of the Great Redeemer, the suitableness of His person and purchase to supply the wants and answer the utmost desires of immortal souls. To open the infinite riches of His grace and the wonderful encouragement proposed in the Gospel to unworthy, helpless sinners. To call, invite, and beseech them to come and give up themselves to Him and to be reconciled to God through Him. To expostulate with them, respecting their neglect of one so infinitely lovely and freely offered. And this, in such a manner, with such a freedom, Pertinacy, pathos, and application to the conscience, as I never could have made myself master of by the most assiduous application.
And I have often, at such seasons, been surprisingly helped in adapting my discipline to the conscience.
Secondly, It is worthy of remark that numbers of these people were brought to a strict compliance with the rules of morality and sobriety, and to a conscientious performance of the external duties of Christianity, without their having them frequently inculcated upon them, and the contrary vices particularly exposed. God was pleased to give the grand gospel truth such a powerful influence upon their minds that their lives were quickly reformed without my spending time in repeated harangues upon external duties. There was indeed no room for any discourses, but those that respected the essentials of religion and the experimental knowledge of divine things, while there were so many inquiring daily, not how they should regulate their external conduct, but how they should escape from the wrath to come.
Obtain an effectual change of heart, get an interest in Christ, and come to the enjoyment of the eternal blessedness. So that my great work still was to lead them into a further view of their total depravity, to show that there was no manner of goodness in them, no good dispositions nor desires, no love to God, nor delights in His commands, but on the contrary, hatred, enmity, and all manner of wickedness. And at the same time, to open to them the glorious remedy provided in Christ for helpless, perishing sinners, and offered freely to those who have no goodness of their own. No works of righteousness to recommend them to God. When these truths were felt at heart, there was no vice unreformed, no external duty neglected.
Drunkenness, the darling vice, was broken off, and scarce an instance of it known for months together. The practice of husbands and wives in putting away each other and taking others in their stead was quickly reformed. The same might be said of all other vicious practices. The Reformation was general, and all springing from the internal influence of divine truths upon their hearts, not because they had heard these vices particularly exposed and repeatedly spoken against. So that happy experience, as well as the Word of God and the example of Christ and His apostles have taught me that the preaching which is suited to awaken in mankind a lively apprehension of their depravity and misery To excite them earnestly to seek after a change of heart, and to fly for refuge to Christ as the only hope set before them, is likely to be most successful toward the reformation of their external conduct.
I have found that close addresses and solemn applications of divine truths to the conscience strike death to the root of all vice, while smooth and plausible harangues upon moral virtues and external duties, at best, do no more than lop off the branches of corruption. I do not intend, by what I have observed, to represent the preaching of morality and pressing persons to the external performances of duty to be unnecessary and useless at any time, and especially at times when there is less of divine power attending the means of grace. It is doubtless among the things that ought to be done while others are not to be left undone. But what I principally design is to discover a plain matter of fact.
Vs. That the external compliance with the rules of Christianity appearing among my people are not the effect of any merely rational view of the beauty of morality, but of the internal influence that divine truths have had upon their hearts. Thirdly, it is remarkable that God has so continued and renewed the showers of His grace, so quickly set up His kingdom among these people, and so smiled upon them in relation to their acquirement of knowledge, both divine and human. It is now near a year since the beginning of this gracious outpouring of the Divine Spirit among them, and although it has often seemed to decline for some short time, yet the shower was renewed and the work of grace revived again, so that a divine influence seems still to attend the means of grace in a greater or less degree, whereby religious persons are refreshed, strengthened, and established, convictions revived and promoted in many instances, and some newly awakened from time to time.
Although it must be acknowledged that for some time past there has appeared a more manifest decline of this work, yet, blessed be God, there is still an appearance of divine power, a desirable degree of tenderness and devotion in our assemblies. And as God has continued the showers of His grace among this people, so He has, with uncommon quickness, set up His visible kingdom in the midst of them. I have now baptized, since the conclusion of my last journal, thirty persons. 15 adults and 15 children, which added to the number there mentioned makes 77 persons, whereof 38 are adults and 39 children, and all within the space of 11 months past, and have baptized no adults, but such as appeared to have a work of grace in their hearts.
I mean such as have had the experience not only of the awakening, but of the renewing and comforting influences of the Divine Spirit. Much of the goodness of God has appeared in relation to their acquirement of knowledge, both in religion and in common life. There has been a wonderful thirst after Christian knowledge among them, and an eager desire of being instructed. This has prompted them to ask many pertinent as well as important questions. Many of the doctrines I have delivered they have queried with me about in order to gain further light into them. And have from time to time manifested a good understanding of them by their answers to the questions proposed. They have likewise taken pains and appeared remarkably apt in learning to sing psalms, and are now able to sing with a good degree of decency in the worship of God.
They have also acquired a considerable degree of useful knowledge in the affairs of common life, so that they now appear like rational creatures, fit for human society, free from that savage roughness and brutish stupidity which rendered them very disagreeable in their pagan state. And as they are desirous of instruction and surprisingly apt in the reception of it, so divine providence has smiled upon them in regard of proper means in order to it. The attempts made for a school among them have succeeded, and a kind providence has sent them a schoolmaster, of whom I may justly say I know of, no man like-minded who will naturally care for their state. He has generally 30 or 35 children in his school, and when he kept an evening school, as he did while the length of the evenings would admit of it, he had 15 or 20 people, married and single.
The children learn with surprising readiness, so that their master tells me he never had any English school that learned in general near so fast. There were not above two in thirty, although some were very small, but what learned to know all the letters of the alphabet distinctly within three days after his entrance upon his business. And diverse in that space learned to spell considerably, and some of them since the beginning of February last, at which time the school was set up. The children of the Lord have learned so much that they are able to read in a Psalter or Testament without spelling. They are instructed in the duty of secret prayer, and most of them constantly Fourthly, It is worthy to be noted that amidst so great a work of conviction, so much concern, and religious affection, there has been no prevalency, nor indeed any considerable appearance of false religion, if I may so term it, or heats of imagination, intemperate zeal, and spiritual pride, which corrupt mixtures too often attend the revival of religion, and that there have been so very few instances of scandalous behavior among those who have appeared serious.
The religious concern that persons have been under has generally been rational and just, arising from a sense of their sins and the divine displeasure on the account of them, as well as their utter inability to deliver themselves from the misery they felt and feared. And it is remarkable, although the concern of many persons has been very great and pressing, yet I have never seen anything like despair attending it in any one instance. Whence it is apparent there is not that danger of persons being driven into despair under spiritual trouble, unless in cases of melancholy, that the world in general imagine. Persons have obtained, after their distresses, has likewise in general appeared solid, well-grounded, and scriptural, arising from a spiritual and supernatural illumination of mind, a view of divine things as they are, a complacency of soul in the divine perfections, and a peculiar satisfaction in the way of salvation by free grace in the great Redeemer.
Their joys have seemed to rise from a variety of views and considerations of divine things, although for substance the same. Some have at first appeared to rejoice especially in the wisdom of God discovered in the way of salvation by Christ, it then appearing to them a new and living way, a way they had never thought nor had any just conception of, until opened to them by the special influence of the Divine Spirit. And some of them, upon a lively, spiritual view of this way of salvation, have wondered at their past folly in seeking salvation other ways, and have admired that they never saw this way of salvation before, which now appeared so plain and easy. Others have had a more general view of the beauty and excellency of Christ, and have had their souls delighted with an apprehension of His glory, as unspeakably exceeding all they had ever conceived before, yet without singling out, as it were.
Any one of the divine perfections in particular, so that although their comforts seemed to arise from a variety of views of divine glories, still they were spiritual. On a review of Mr. Brainerd's success this year, who can forbear exclaiming what hath God wrought? His public journal closes at June the 19th, but we learn from his diary that he continued laboring and journeying with various success till the 11th of August, when he proposes once more to visit Susquehanna. and arrived in the course of the week accompanied by six of his Christian Indians at Charlestown, a place about 30 miles westward of Philadelphia, and in the following extracts he relates on account of his journey from thence to the place of his destination, his reception among the Indians, and all that occurred of importance in his returning.
It was here that consumption, most fatal of Pandora's train, marked him for her own. The symptoms of this deplorable malady visibly appeared in his journey home, which he performed with the greatest difficulty and at the risk of his life. August 16th. It being a day kept by the people of the place where I now was, as preparatory to the celebration of the Lord's Supper, I tarried, heard Mr. Treat preach, and then preached myself. God gave me some freedom and helped me to discourse with warmth and application to the conscience. Afterwards, I was refreshed in spirit, though much tired, and spent the evening agreeably in prayer and Christian conversation. Eighteenth. I rode on my way towards Paxton upon Susquehanna River, but felt my spirits sink towards night.
Nineteenth. I rode forward still, and at night lodged by the side of Susquehanna. Twentieth. Having lain in a cold sweat all night, I coughed much bloody matter this morning, But what gave me encouragement was that I had a secret hope that I might speedily get a dismission from earth and all its sorrows. I rode this day to one Chambers upon Susquehanna, and there lodged, but was much afflicted in the evening with an ungodly crew, drinking and swearing. Oh, what a hell it would be to be numbered with the ungodly! Twenty-first I rode up the river about fifteen miles, and there lodged, in a family that appeared quite destitute of God. I labored to discourse with the man about the life of religion, but found him very artful in evading it.
Oh, what a death is to come, to hear the things of God! Twenty-second. I continued my course up the river, my people now being with me, who before were parted from me, traveled above all the English settlements. At night, lodged in the open woods and slept with more comfort than while among an ungodly company of white people. Lord's Day, August 24. Towards noon, I visited some of the Delawares and discoursed with them about Christianity. In the afternoon, I discoursed to the King and others on divine things who seemed disposed to hear. I spent most of the day in these exercises. In the evening, I enjoyed some comfort and satisfaction, especially in secret prayer. This duty was made so agreeable that I loved to walk abroad and repeatedly engage in it.
Twenty-fifth, I sent out my people to talk with the Indians and contract a familiarity with them. Some good seemed to be done by their visit this day, and diverse appeared willing to hearken to Christianity. Twenty-sixth. About noon, I discoursed to a considerable number of Indians. I was unable to speak with much plainness, warmth, and power. The discourse had impressions upon some and made them appear very serious. Twenty-seventh. There having been a thick smoke in the house where I lodged, I was this morning distressed with pains in my head and neck. In the morning, the smoke was still the same, and a cold, easterly storm gathering. I could neither live indoors nor without any long time together.
I was pierced with the rawness of the air abroad, in the house distressed with the smoke. I this day lived in great distress and had not health enough to do anything to purpose. Twenty-eighth. I was under great concern of mind. I was visited by some who desired to hear me preach, and discoursed to them in the afternoon with some fervency, and labored to persuade them to turn to God. I scarce ever saw more clearly that it is God's work to convert souls. I knew I could not touch them. I saw I could only speak to dry bones, but could give them no sense of what I said. My eyes were up to God for help. I could only say the work was His. Twenty-ninth. I traveled to the Delawares, found few at home, felt poorly, but was able to spend some time alone in reading God's Word and prayer.
Lord's Day, August 31st. I spake the word of God to some few of the Susquehanna Indians. In the afternoon, I felt very weak and feeble. Oh, how heavy is my work when faith cannot take hold of an almighty arm for the performance of it. September 1st. I set out on a journey towards a place called The Great Island, about 50 miles distance from Shawmoking, in the northwestern branch of Susquehanna. At night I lodged in the woods. I was exceeding feeble this day and sweat much the night following. Second. I rode forward, but no faster than my people went on foot. I was so feeble and faint that I feared it would kill me to lie out in the open air, and some of our company being parted from us so that we had now no axe with us, I had no way but to climb into a young pine tree, and with my knife to lop off the branches and so made a shelter from the dew.
I sweat much in the night so that my linen was almost wringing wet all night.
Third. I rode to Delaware Town and found diverse drinking and drunken. I discoursed with some of the Indians about Christianity, observed my interpreter much engaged in his work. Some few persons seemed to hear with great earnestness. About noon, I rode to a small town of Shawanoes, about eight miles distant, spent an hour or two there, and returned to the Delaware Town. Oh, what a dead, barren, unprofitable wretch did I now see myself to be. My spirits were so low, and my bodily strength so wasted, that I could do nothing at all. At length, being much overdone, I lay down on a buffalo skin, but sweat much the whole night. Fourth. I discoursed with the Indians about Christianity, my interpreter afterwards carrying on the discourse to a considerable length.
Some few appeared well disposed and somewhat affected. I left this place and returned towards Shawmoking, and at night lodged in the place where I lodged the Monday night before. But my people being belated did not come to me till past ten at night, so that I had no fire to dress my victuals or to keep me warm, and I was scarce ever more weak and worn out in my life. Fifth. I was so weak that I could scarcely ride. It seemed sometimes as if I must fall off from my horse. However, I got to Shamokang towards night and felt thankfulness that God had so far supported me. Sixth. I spent the day in a very weak state, coughing and spitting blood, and having little appetite to any food I had with me.
I was able to do very little except discourse a while of divine things to my own people and to some few I met with. Monday, September 8th. I spent the forenoon among the Indians, in the afternoon left Shawmoking and returned down the river a few miles. I had proposed to have tarried a considerable time longer among the Indians upon Susquehanna, but was hindered by the weekly circumstances of my own people, and especially my own extraordinary weakness, having been exercised with great nocturnal sweat and a coughing up of blood in almost the whole of the journey. I was a great part of the time so feeble and faint that it seemed as though I never should be able to reach home. And at the same time, destitute of the comforts, yea, the necessaries of life, at least what was necessary for one in so weak a state.
In this journey, I sometimes was enabled to speak the word of God with power, and divine truths made some impressions on thy verse that heard me, so that several, both men and women, old and young, seemed to cleave to us and be well disposed towards Christianity. But others mocked and shouted, which damped those who before seemed friendly. Yet God at times was evidently present, assisting me, my interpreter, and other near friends who were with me. God gave sometimes a good degree of freedom in prayer for the ingathering of souls there, and I could not but entertain a strong hope that the journey should not be wholly fruitless. Ninth, I rode down the river, near thirty miles, was extremely weak, much fatigued, and met with a thunderstorm.
I discoursed with some warmth and closeness to some poor ignorant souls on the life and power of religion. They seemed much astonished when they saw my Indians ask a blessing and to give thanks at dinner, concluding that a very high evidence of grace in them, but were more astonished when I insisted that neither that, nor yet secret prayer, was any sure evidence of grace. Oh, the ignorance of the world! How are some empty, outward forms mistaken for true religion? Tenth. I rode near twenty miles homeward and was much solicited to preach, but was utterly unable. I was extremely overdone with the heat and showers, and coughed up considerable quantities of blood. Eleventh. I rode homeward, but was very weak, and sometimes scarce able to ride.
I had a very importunate invitation to preach at a meeting house I came by, but could not by reason of weakness. I was resigned under my weakness, but was much exercised for my companions in travel, whom I had left with much regret, some lame and some sick. Twelfth. I rode about 50 miles and came just at night to a Christian friend's house about 25 miles westward from Philadelphia. I was kindly entertained and found myself much refreshed in the midst of my weakness and fatigues. Lord's Day, September 14th. I preached both parts of the day, but short, from Luke 14, verse 23. God gave me the freedom and warmth in my discourses and helped me to labor in singleness of heart. I was much tired in the evening, but was comforted with the most tender treatment I ever met with in my life.
My mind, through the whole of the day, was exceeding calm, and I could ask for nothing but that the will of God might be done. Seventeenth. I rode to Philadelphia, but was very weak, and my cough and spitting of blood continued. Twenty. I arrived among my own people, found them praying together, went in and gave them some account of God's dealings with me and my companions in the journey. I then prayed with them, and the Divine Presence was among us. Diverse were melted into cheers. Being very weak, I was obliged soon to repair to my lodgings. Thus God has carried me through the fatigues and perils of another journey to Susquehanna, and returned me again in safety, though under a great degree of bodily indisposition.
Many hardships and distresses I endured in this journey, but the Lord supported me under them all. It is peculiarly affecting to behold a spirit so nobly ardent and zealous in the best of causes, sinking in the midst of youth and in the full vigor of its faculties, under the pressure of bodily disease. To observe a life so admirably begun, which promise so fair So soon closed, a light so powerful and steady, which the Redeemer seemed to hold as a star in his right hand, so suddenly quenched in the darkness of the grave. But who shall scrutinize the high behests of heaven? Who shall say unto God, What dost thou? When he ordains, the youthful traveler ends his journey, and his sun goes down while it is yet day.
The heart, warmed with benevolence, must be chilled with the icy hand of death. The tongue that utters wisdom and kindness must rest in silence. When he, the great arbiter of life, proclaims, Return ye children of men. But let us with pious awe contemplate the last labors and the last hours of Brainerd. And may the site of his early tomb furnish the ministers of Jesus with a new motive to work while it is called day, and to work till the close of the day. If Brainerd had retired from the field of exertion before last year, what would he not have lost? That his work was soon done was his happiness. O God, if thou givest me long life, may every hour of it be thine. But if few are to be the days of my mortal pilgrimage, let every minute be improved as an hour, and suffer me not to go down to the grave without the meed of usefulness, the cheering yet humbling reflection that as an instrument in thy hand I have turned many to righteousness.
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His illness, the suspension of his labors, his journey to New England, his death, concluding reflections. We have seen with what difficulty Mr. Brainerd performed his last journey. We are now to view him closing the painful, weary journey of life, his body wasting under the influence of a mortal disease, while he is strengthened with might by the Spirit in his inner man. The time of his departure is at hand. He feels that he must soon put off this mortal coil. But like the good soldier of Jesus Christ, he will wear his armor to the last. He will fight against Satan's kingdom to the latest hour. And die, smiling at the thought, that the captain he serves must be victorious. One loves to visit the chamber where the good man meets his fate, and we generally find that amidst his consolations this is none of the least, that the cause of religion must prosper after he is gathered to his fathers and is no more seen.
This is happily illustrated in the case of David. The whole earth shall be full of his glory, exclaimed the dying patriarch, and he prayed no more. His soul departed to God who gave it. I am leaving the ship of the church in a storm, said Dr. Owen, but while the great pilot is in it, the loss of a poor under-rower will be inconsiderable. And the friend of Brainerd, who wrote his life and witnessed his last hour, says, he expressed on his deathbed a full persuasion that he should, in heaven, see the prosperity of the church on earth and should rejoice with Christ therein, and the consideration of it was highly pleasing to his mind. One of our poets has illustrated that the ruling passion is strong in death, and in the case of Brainerd it is strikingly exemplified.
His ruling passion was love to God and love to souls, and it reigned with undiminished predominance to the last. While he could walk and ride, he went about doing good, and while he could speak, his tongue was never silent in recommending to sinners the Savior he so ardently wished them to embrace. These remarks are confirmed by his diary. Lord's Day, September 21, 1746. I was so weak I could not preach nor ride over to my people in the forenoon. In the afternoon I rode out, sat in my chair, and discoursed to my people from Romans 14, verses 7 and 8. I was strengthened in my discourse, and there appeared something agreeable in the assembly. I returned to my lodgings extremely tired, but thankful that I had been able to speak a word to my poor people.
I was able to sleep a little through weariness and pain. Oh, how blessed should I be if the little I do were all done with right views. Twenty-seventh. I spent this as the week passed under a great degree of bodily weakness, exercised with a violent cough and a considerable fever, had no appetite to any kind of food, and frequently brought up what I eat, as soon as it was down. I was able, however, to ride over to my people about two miles every day and take some care of those who were then at work upon a small house for me to reside in among the Indians. I was sometimes scarce able to walk and never able to sit up the whole day. Yet I was calm and composed, and but little exercised with melancholy as in former seasons.
It was many times a comfort to me that life and death did not depend upon my choice. I was pleased to think that he who was infinitely wise had the determination of this matter and that I had no trouble to consider and weigh things upon all sides, in order to make the choice whether I would live or die. I could with great composure look death in the face, and frequently with sensibility Lord's Day, September 21st. I rode to my people, and though under much weakness, discoursed about half an hour, at which season divine power seemed to attend the word, but being extremely weak, I was obliged to desist, and after a turn of faintness, with much difficulty, rode to my lodgings, where, betaking myself to my bed, I lay in a burning fever, and almost delirious, for several hours, till towards morning.
My fever went off with a violent sweat. I have often been feverish after preaching, but this was the most distressing turn that ever preaching brought upon me. Yet I felt perfectly at rest in my own mind because I had made my utmost attempts to speak for God. 30. Yesterday and today I was scarce able to sit up half the day. But I was in a composed frame and remarkably free from dejection and melancholy, as God has been pleased to deliver me from these unhappy glooms in the general course of my present weakness hitherto, and also from a peevish spirit. Oh, that I may always be able to say, Lord, not my will, but thine be done. Saturday, October 4th. I spent the former part of this week under a great degree of disorder, as I had done several weeks before.
Was able, however, to write a little every day. Although unable to sit up half the day, and took some care daily of persons at work upon my house. On Friday afternoon, I found myself wonderfully revived and strengthened, and having some time before given notice to my people, and those of the Forks of Delaware in particular, that I designed to administer the sacrament of the Lord's Supper upon the first Sabbath in October. On Friday afternoon, I preached preparatory to the sacrament from 2 Corinthians 8, verse 5. I was surprisingly strengthened in my work while I was speaking, but was obliged immediately after to repair to bed, being now removed into my own house among the Indians, which gave me such speedy relief as I could not well have lived without.
I spent some time on Friday night and conversing with my people as I lay upon my bed and found my soul refreshed. This being Saturday, I discoursed particularly with diverse of the communicants, and this afternoon preached from Zechariah, chapter 12, verse 10. There seemed to be a tender melting and hearty mourning for sin in the congregation. My soul was in a comfortable frame, and I was myself, as well as most of the congregation, much affected with the humble confession and apparently Lord's Day, October 5th. I was still very weak, and in the morning, afraid I should not be able to go through the work of the day. I discoursed before the administration of the sacrament from John 1, verse 29, Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.
The Divine Presence attended this discourse, and the assembly was considerably melted. After sermon, I baptized two persons and then administered the Lord's Supper to nearly forty communicants of the Indians, besides diverse dear Christians of the white people. It was a season of divine power and grace, and members rejoiced in God. Oh, the sweet union and harmony then appearing among the religious people! My soul was refreshed, and my friends of the white people with me. After the sacrament, I could scarcely get home, but was supported by my friends and laid on my bed, where I lay in pain till the evening, and then was able to set up and discourse with my friends. Oh, how was this day spent in prayers and praises among my dear people!
One might hear them all the morning, before public worship, and in the evening till near midnight, praying and singing praises to God in one or other of their houses. Eleventh. Towards night I was seized with an ague, which was followed with a hard fever and much pain. I was treated with great kindness and was ashamed to see so much concern about so unworthy a creature. I was in a comfortable frame of mind, wholly submissive with regard to life or death. It was indeed a peculiar satisfaction to me to think that it was not my business to determine whether I should live or die. I likewise felt peculiarly satisfied while under this uncommon degree of disorder, being now fully convinced of my being really unable to perform my work.
Oh, how precious is time, and how guilty it makes me feel when I think I have trifled away and misemployed it, or neglected to fill up each part of it with a duty to the utmost of my ability. Nineteenth. I was willing either to die or live, but found it hard to think of living useless. Oh, that I might never live to be a burden to God's creation, but that I might be allowed to repair home when my sojourning work is done. Twenty-fourth. I spent the day in overseeing and directing my people about mending their fence and securing their wheat. I was somewhat refreshed in the evening having been able to do something valuable in the daytime. Oh, how it pains me to see time pass away when I can do nothing to any purpose.
Twenty-fifth. I visited some of my people, spent some time in writing, and felt much better in body than usual. When it was near night, I felt so well that I had thoughts of expounding, but in the evening was much disordered again, and spent the night in coughing and spitting of blood. Lord's Day, October 26th. In the morning I was exceeding weak, and spent the day till near night in pain to see my poor people wandering as sheep not having a shepherd. But towards night, finding myself a little better, I called them together to my house, and sat down and read and expounded Matthew 5, verses 1-16. This discourse, though delivered in much weakness, was attended with power, especially what was spoken upon the last of these verses, where I insisted on the infinite wrong done to religion by having our light become darkness instead of shining before men.
As many were deeply affected with a sense of their deficiency in regard of a spiritual conversation, and a spirit of concern and watchfulness seemed to be excited in them. So there was one that had fallen into drunkenness some time before, who was now deeply convinced of his sin, and discovered a great degree of grief and concern on that account. My soul was refreshed to see this. And though I had no strength to speak so much as I would have done, but was obliged to lie down on the bed, Yet I rejoiced to see such an humble melting in the congregation, and that divine truths, though faintly delivered, were attended with so much efficacy. Twenty-seventh. I spent the day in directing the Indians about mending the fence around their wheat, and was able to walk with them and contrive their business all the afternoon.
In the afternoon I was visited by two dear friends and spent some time in conversation with them. Towards night I was able to walk out and take care of the Indians again. Twenty-eighth. I rode to Princeton in a very weak state, had such a violent fever by the way, that I was forced to alight at a friend's house and lie down for some time. Near night, I was visited by Mr. Treat, Mr. Beatty, and his wife and another friend. My spirits were refreshed to see them, but I was surprised and even ashamed that they had taken so much pain as to ride thirty or forty miles to see me. November 1st. I took leave of my friends and returned home. Lord's Day, November 2nd. I was unable to preach and scarcely able to sit up the whole day.
I was almost sunk to see my poor people destitute of the means of grace, and especially considering they could not read and so were under great disadvantages for spending the Sabbath comfortably. Third. Being now in so low a state that I was utterly incapable of performing my work, and having little hope of recovery unless by much riding, I thought it my duty to take a journey into New England. I accordingly took leave of my congregation this day. Before I left my people, I visited them all in their respective houses, and discoursed to each one, as I thought most suitable for their circumstances, and found great freedom in so doing. I scarce left one house, but some were in tears, not only affected with my being about to leave them, but with the solemn address I made, for I was helped to be fervent in spirit.
When I had thus gone through my congregation, which took me most of the day, and had taken leave of them and of the school, I rode about two miles to the house where I lived in the summer past, and there lodged. Fourth, I rode to Woodbridge and lodged with Mr. Pearson. Fifth, I rode to Elizabethtown, intending as soon as possible to prosecute my journey, but I was, in an hour or two, taken much worse. For near a week I was confined to my chamber, and most of the time to my bed, and then so far revived as to be able to walk about the house, but was still confined within doors. I was unable to maintain a calm, composed, and patient spirit, as I had from the beginning of my weakness. After I had been in Elizabethtown about a fortnight, and had so far recovered that I was able to walk about the house, Upon a day of thanksgiving kept in this place, I was enabled to recount the mercies of God in such a manner as greatly affected me, and filled me with thankfulness to God, especially for His work of grace among the Indians and the enlargement of His kingdom.
Lord, glorify Thyself, was the cry of my soul. O that all people might love and praise the blessed God! After this comfortable season, I frequently enjoyed enlargement of soul in prayer for my dear congregation, very often for every family and every person in particular, and it was a great comfort to me that I could pray heartily to God for those whom I was not allowed to see. In the latter end of December, I grew still weak and continued to do so till the latter end of January 1746-47. And having a violent cough, a considerable fever, and no appetite for any manner of food, I was reduced to so low estates that my friends generally despaired of my life, and for some time together thought I could scarcely live a day to eat.
On Lord's Day, February 1st, if ye being evil know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him? This text I was helped to plead, and saw the divine faithfulness engaged for dealing with me better than any earthly parent can do with his child. This season so refreshed my soul that my body seemed also to be a gainer by it. And from this time I began gradually to amend. And as I recovered some strength, vigor, and spirit, I found at times some life in the exercises of devotion and longings after spirituality in a life of usefulness. Twenty-fourth. I was able to ride as far as Newark, having been confined within Elizabethtown almost four months, and the next day returned to Elizabethtown.
My spirits were somewhat refreshed with the ride, though my body was weary. Twenty-eighth. I was visited by an Indian of my own congregation who brought me letters and good news of the behavior of my people in general. This refreshed my soul, and I could not but retire and bless God for His goodness. March 11th. Being kept in Elizabethtown as a day of fasting and prayer, I was able to attend public worship, which was the first time since December 21st. Oh, how much distress did God carry me through in this space of time! But having obtained help from Him, I yet live! Oh, that I could live to His glory! 18th. I rode to my people, and on Friday walked about among them, and inquired into their state and concerns, and found an additional weight on my spirits upon hearing some things disagreeable.
I endeavored to go to God with my distresses, but notwithstanding, my mind continued very gloomy. About ten o'clock I called my people together, and after having explained and sung a psalm, I prayed with them. There was a considerable deal of affection among them, I doubt not, that which was more than merely natural. This was the last interview that he ever had with his people. About 11 o'clock the same day he left them, and the next day came to Elizabethtown. 28th. I was taken this morning with a violent griping. These pains were extreme and constant for several hours, so that it seemed impossible for me, without a miracle, to live 24 hours. I lay confined to my bed the whole day, but it pleased God to bless means for the abatement of my distress.
I was exceedingly weakened by this pain, and continued so for several days following. In this distressed case, April 4th. I was uneasy by reason of the misemployment of time, and yet knew not what to do. I longed to spend time in fasting and prayer, but alas, I had no bodily strength. Oh, how blessed a thing it is to enjoy peace of conscience! How dreadful is a want of inward peace! It is impossible, I find, to enjoy this happiness without redeeming time and maintaining a spiritual frame of mind. Lord's Day, April 5th. It grieved me to find myself so inconceivably barren. My soul thirsted for grace, but alas, how far was I from obtaining what I saw so excellent! I was ready to despair of ever being holy, and yet my soul was desirous of following hard after God.
But never did I see myself so far from having apprehended or being already perfect. The Lord's Supper being this day administered, in the season of communion I enjoyed warmth of affection and felt a tender love to the brethren and to the glorious Redeemer, the firstborn among them. I endeavored then to bring forth mine and his enemies and slay them before him, and found great freedom in begging deliverance from this spiritual death, as well as in asking favors for my friends and congregation and the Church of Christ in general. Seventeenth, in the evening God helped me to draw near to the throne of grace and gave me a sense of his favor, which gave me inexpressible support and encouragement. I could not but rejoice that ever God should discover his reconciled face to such a vile sinner.
Shame and confusion at times covered me, and then hope and joy and admiration of divine goodness. Twenty-first, I set out on my journey for New England. I traveled to New York and there lodged. Lord's Day, May 10th. At Had Lyme, I could not but feel gratitude to God, that He had always disposed me in my ministry to insist on the great doctrines of regeneration, a new creature, faith in Christ, progressive sanctification, supreme love to God, living entirely to the glory of God, being not our own, and the like. God has helped me to see from time to time that these and the like doctrines necessarily connected with them are the only foundation of safety and salvation for perishing sinners, and that those divine dispositions which are consonant hereto are that holiness without which no man shall see the Lord.
The exercise of these godlike tempers, wherein the soul acts in a kind of concert with God, would be and do everything that is pleasing to God. Lord's Day, May 17. Though I felt much dullness this week, yet I had some glimpses of the excellency of divine things, and especially one morning the beauty of holiness as a likeness to the glorious God was so discovered to me that I longed earnestly to be in that world where holiness dwells in perfection. Lord's Day, May 24th, at Longmeadow in Springfield. I could not but think, as I have often remarked to others, that much more of true religion consists in deep humility, brokenness of heart, and an abasing sense of want of holiness than most who are called Christians imagine.
Twenty-eighth, he arrived at Northampton and took up his abode with President Edwards, and the following delightful eulogy on his character was written by this most eminent servant of Christ and inserted in his life, of which this is chiefly an abridgment. I had much opportunity before this of particular information concerning him, but now I had opportunity for a more full acquaintance with him. I found him remarkably sociable, pleasant, and entertaining in his conversation. Yet solid, savory, spiritual, and very profitable. Appearing meek, modest, and humble. Far from any stiffness, moroseness, superstitious, demureness, or affected singularity in speech or behavior. We enjoyed not only the benefit of his conversation, but had the comfort of hearing him pray in the family from time to time.
His manner of praying was becoming a worm of the dust. And a disciple of Christ, addressing an infinitely great and holy God and Father of mercies, not with florid expressions or a studied eloquence, not with any intemperate vehemence or indecent boldness, at the greatest distance from any appearance of ostentation, and from everything that might look as though he meant to recommend himself to those that were about him, or set himself off to their acceptance. Free from vain repetitions, without impertinent excursions or needless multiplying of words. He expressed himself with the strictest propriety, with weight and pungency, and yet what his lips uttered seemed to flow from the fullness of his heart, as deeply impressed with a great and solemn sense of our necessities, unworthiness, and dependence, and on God's infinite greatness, excellency, and sufficiency, rather than merely from a warm and fruitful brain.
And I know not that I ever heard him so much as ask a blessing or return a thanks at a table, but there was something remarkable to be observed both in the matter and manner of the performance. In his prayers he insisted much on the prosperity of Zion, the advancement of Christ's kingdom in the world, and the flourishing and propagation of religion among the Indians. And he generally made it one petition in his prayer, that we might not outlive our usefulness. This week he consulted Dr. Mather at my house concerning his illness, who plainly told him there were great evidences of his being in a confirmed consumption, and that he could give him no encouragement that he should ever recover. But it seemed not to occasion the least discomposure in him, nor to make any alteration as to the freedom or pleasantness of his conversation.
Being advised by his physician still to continue writing, he had finally determined on a visit to Boston, and on the 9th of June, he began this journey accompanied by one of Mr. Edwards' family. His diary unfolds the state of his health and of his mind with the circumstances which occurred during his journey.
June 9th. I set out on a journey from Northampton to Boston. Having now continued to ride for some considerable time, I felt myself much better, and I found that in proportion to the prospect I had of being restored to a state of usefulness, so I desired the continuance of life. But death appeared inconceivably more desirable to me than a useless life. Yet, blessed be God, I found my heart fully resigned to this greatest of afflictions, if God saw fit thus to deal with me. Twelfth. I arrived in Boston this day, somewhat fatigued with my journey. There is no rest but in God. Fatigues of body and anxieties of mind attend us, both in town and country. Eighteenth. I was taken exceedingly ill and brought to the gates of death by the breaking of small ulcers in my lungs, as my physician supposed.
In this extremely weak state, I continued several weeks and was frequently so low as to be utterly speechless. And even after I had so far revived as to step out of doors, I was exercised with a faint turn, which continued usually four or five hours. At which times, though I could say yes or no, yet I could not speak one sentence without making stops for breath. And diverse times in this season, my friends gathered round my bed to see me breathe my last. How I was the first day or two of my illness with regard to the exercise of reason I scarcely know, but the third day and constantly afterwards, for four or five weeks together, I enjoyed much serenity of mind and clearness of thought as perhaps I ever did in my life, and I think my mind never penetrated with so much ease and freedom into divine things, and I never felt so capable of demonstrating the truth of many important doctrines of the gospel as now.
As God was pleased to afford me a clearness of thought almost continually for several weeks together, so He enabled me, in some measure, to employ my time to valuable purposes. I was enabled to write a number of important letters to friends in remote places, and sometimes I wrote when I was speechless, i.e., unable to main conversation with anybody. Besides this, I had many visitants, with whom, when I was able to speak, I always conversed of the things of religion, and was peculiarly assisted in distinguishing between true and false religion. And especially I discoursed repeatedly on the nature and necessity of that humiliation, self-emptiness, or full conviction of a person's being utterly undone in himself, which is necessary in order to a saving faith, and the extreme difficulty of being brought to this.
And the great danger there is of persons taking up with some self-righteous appearances of it. The danger of this I especially dwelt upon, being persuaded that multitudes perish from this hidden way, and because so little is said from most pulpits to discover any danger here, so that persons being never effectually brought to die to themselves are never truly united to Christ. I also discoursed much on what I take to be the essence of true religion, that godlike temper and disposition of soul And that holy conversation and behavior that may justly claim the honor of having God for its original and patron. And I have reason to hope God blessed my discourses to some, both ministers and people, so that my time was not wholly lost.
While he was at Boston, he was requested by the commissioners of a society for propagating the gospel in New England and places adjacent to recommend to them two missionaries, and they also consulted him on the propriety of sending them to those Indians called the Six Nations. His advice greatly pleased them, and they entered very high ideas of his prudence and piety. About this time, he wrote from Boston the following interesting and affectionate letters, to which he refers in the last page. The first to his brother Israel, who was then at college, the second to a young gentleman, a candidate for the ministry, and the last to his brother John at Bethel, the town of Christian Indians in New Jersey.
To his brother Israel at college, written a few months before his death. My dear brother, Boston, June 30, 1747. It is from the side of eternity I now address you. I am heartily sorry that I have so little strength to write what I long to communicate to you. But let me tell you, my brother, eternity is another thing than we ordinarily take it to be. Oh, how fast and boundless! Oh, how fixed and unutterable! Oh, of what infinite importance is it that we be prepared for eternity! I have been just dying for more than a week, and all around me have thought so. But in this time I have had clear views of eternity, have seen the blessedness of the godly, and have longed to share their happy state, as well as been comfortably satisfied that I shall do so.
But oh, what anguish is raised in my mind to think of an eternity for those who are Christless, for those who bring their false hopes to the grave with them. The sight was so dreadful, I could by no means bear it. My thoughts recoiled, and I said, Who can dwell with everlasting burnings? O me thought that I could now see my friends, that I might warn them to see to it that they lay their foundation for eternity. And you, my dear brother, I have been particularly concerned for, and have wondered I so much, neglected conversing with you about your spiritual state at our last meeting. O let me beseech you now to examine whether you are indeed a new creature, whether the glory of God has ever been the highest concern with you, whether you have ever been reconciled to all the perfections of God.
In a word, Whether God has been your portion and holy conformity to Him, your chief delight? If you have reason to think you are graceless, O give yourself and the throne of grace no rest, till God arise and save you. But if the case should be otherwise, bless God for His grace and press after holiness. O my dear brother, flee fleshly lusts and the enchanting amusements as well as corrupt doctrines of the present today, and strive to live to God. Take this as the last line from your affectionate dying brother, David Brainerd. To a young gentleman candidate for the ministry, written at the same time as above. Very dear sir, how amazing is it that the living who know they must die should notwithstanding put far away the evil day in a season of health and prosperity, and live at such an awful distance from the grave and the great concerns beyond it.
And especially that any whose minds have been divinely enlightened to behold the important things of eternity should live in this manner. And yet, sir, how frequently is this the case? How rare are the instances of those who live and act from day to day as on the verge of eternity, striving to fill up all their remaining moments in the service, and to the honor of their great master. And are so strangely amused, as in a great measure, to lose a sense of the holiness necessary to prepare us to be inhabitants of the heavenly paradise. But, oh dear sir, a dying bed, if we enjoy our reason, will give another view of things. I have now, for more than three weeks, lain under the greatest weakness, the greater part of the time expecting daily and hourly to enter into the eternal world.
Sometimes I have been so far gone as to be speechless for some hours together. And oh, of what vast importance has a holy spiritual life appeared to me in this season. I have longed to call upon all my friends to make it their business to live to God, and especially all that are designed for or engaged in the service of the sanctuary. Oh dear sir, do not think it enough to live at the rate of common Christians. Alas to how little purpose do they often converse when they meet together. The visits, even of those who are called Christians indeed, are frequently quite barren, and conscience cannot but condemn us for the misemployment of time, while we have been conversant with them. But the way to enjoy the Divine Presence and be fitted for His service is to live a life of great devotion and constant self-dedication to Him.
Observing the motions and dispositions of our own hearts, whence we may learn the corruptions that lodge there, and our constant need of help from God for the performance of the least duty. And, O dear Sir, let me beseech you frequently to attend to the great and precious duties of secret fasting and prayer. I have a secret thought, from some things I have observed, that God may perhaps design you for some singular service in the world. O then, labor to be prepared and qualified to do much for God. Suffer me to entreat you earnestly to give yourself to prayer, to reading and meditation on divine truths. Strive to penetrate to the bottom of them and never be content with a superficial knowledge.
By this means your thoughts will grow weighty and judicious, and you thereby will be possessed of a valuable treasure, out of which you may produce things new and old to the glory of God. And now I commend you to the grace of God, earnestly desiring that a plentiful portion of the Divine Spirit may rest upon you, that you may live to God in every capacity, and do abundant for Him in public, if it be His will, and that you may be richly qualified for the inheritance of the saints in light. I scarcely expect to see your face any more in the body, and therefore entreat you to accept this as the last token of love from your sincerely affectionate dying friend, David Brainerd. To his brother John at Bethel, the town of Christian Indians in New Jersey, written at Boston before his death.
Dear brother, I am now just on the verge of eternity, expecting very speedily to appear in the unseen world. I feel myself no more an inhabitant on earth and sometimes earnestly long to depart and be with Christ. I bless God. He has for some years given me an abiding conviction that it is impossible for any rational creature to enjoy true happiness without being entirely devoted to him. Under the influence of this conviction, I have in some measure acted. Oh, that I had done more so! I saw both the excellency and necessity of holiness, but never in such a manner as now, when I am just brought to the side of the grave. Oh, my brother, pursue after holiness. Press toward the blessed mark, and let your thirsty soul continually say, I shall never be satisfied till I awake in thy likeness.
And now, my dear brother, as I must press you to pursue after personal holiness, to be as much in fasting and prayer as your health will allow, and to live above the rate of common Christians, so I must entreat you, so attend to your public work. Labor to distinguish between true and false religion, and to that end watch the motions of God's Spirit upon your own heart, look to Him for help, and impartially compare your experiences with His Word. Charge my people in the name of their dying minister. Yea, in the name of him who was dead and is alive, to live and walk as become the gospel. Tell them how great the expectations of God and his people are from them, and how awfully they will wound God's cause if they fall into vice, as well as fatally prejudice other poor Indians.
Always insist that their joys are delusive, although they may have been wrapped up into the third heavens, unless the main tenor of their lives be spiritual, watchful, and holy. In pressing these things, thou shalt both save thyself and those that hear thee. God knows I was heartily willing to have served him longer in the work of the ministry, although it had still been attended with all the labors and hardships of past years, if he had seen fit that it should be so. But as his will now appears otherwise, I am fully content, and can with the utmost freedom say, The will of the Lord be done. It affects me to think of leaving you in a world of sin. My heart pities you that those storms and tempests are yet before you, which through grace I am almost delivered from.
But God lives, and blessed be my rock. He is the same almighty friend, and will I trust be your guide and helper, as he has been mine. And now, my dear brother, I commend you to God and to the word of his grace, which is able to build you up and give you an inheritance among all them that are sanctified. May you enjoy the Divine Presence, both in private and public, and may the arms of your hands be made strong by the right hand of the mighty God of Jacob, which are passionate desires and prayers of your affectionate dying brother, David Brainerd. The account of Mr. Brainerd's further continuance at Boston, his return to Northampton, and of the state of his mind, with the circumstances of his departure from this world to a better, is so interestingly related by President Edwards, who was for the most part a witness of the scene, that I cannot, I think, render my reader a more acceptable service than by suffering him to conclude the narrative.
Mr. Brainerd's restoration from his extremely low state in Boston, so as to go abroad again and to travel, was very unexpected to him and his friends. My daughter, who was with him, writes thus concerning him in a letter dated June 23rd. On Thursday, he was very ill of a violent fever and extreme pain in his head and breast, and it turns delirious. So he remained till Saturday evening when he seemed to be in the agonies of death. The family were up with him till one or two o'clock. Expecting every hour would be his last. On Sabbath day he was little revived, his head was better, but very full of pain, and exceeding sore at his breast, much put to it for breath. Yesterday he was better upon all accounts.
Last night he slept but little. This morning he is much worse. Dr. Pynchon says he has no hopes of life, nor does he think it likely he will ever come out of his chamber. His physician, Joseph Pynchon Esquire, when he visited him in Boston, attributed his sinking so suddenly into a state so nigh unto death to the breaking of ulcers that had been long gathering in his lungs, and there discharging and diffusing their purulent matter, which, while nature was laboring and struggling to throw off, which could be done no otherwise than by a gradual straining of it through the small vessels of those vital parts, This occasioned a high fever and violent coughing and threw the whole frame of nature into the utmost disorder.
But supposed, if the strength of nature held till the lungs had this way gradually cleared themselves of this putrid matter, he might revive and continue better, till new ulcers gathered and broke. But then he would surely sink again, and that there was no hope of his recovery. But, as he expressed himself to one of my neighbors, he was as certainly a dead man as if he was shot through the heart. But it was so ordered in divine providence that the strength of nature held out through this great conflict, so just as to escape the grave at that turn, and then he revived to the astonishment of all who knew his case. After he began to revive, he was visited by his youngest brother, Mr. Israel Brainerd, a student at Yale College, who, having heard of his extreme illness, went hence from Boston in order to see him.
This visit was attended with a mixture of joy and sorrow to Mr. Brainerd. He greatly rejoiced to see his brother, especially because he had desired an opportunity of some religious conversation with him before he died. But this meeting was attended with sorrow, as his brother brought him the tidings of his sister Spencer's death at Haddam, a sister between whom and him had long subsisted a peculiarly dear affection and much intimacy in spiritual matters. He had heard nothing of her sickness till this report of her death. But he had these comforts together with the tidings, a confidence of her being gone to heaven, and an expectation of his soon meeting her there. His brother continued with him until he left the town and came with him from thence to Northampton.
Concerning the last Sabbath Mr. Brainerd spent at Boston, he writes in his diary as follows. Lord's Day, July 19th. I was just able to attend public worship, being carried to the house of God in a chaise. I heard Dr. Seawall preach in the forenoon, partook of the Lord's Supper at this time. In the sacrament I saw astonishing wisdom displayed, such wisdom as required the tongues of angels and glorified saints to celebrate. It seemed to me I never should do anything at adoring the infinite wisdom of God, discovered in the contrivance of man's redemption, until I arrived at a world of perfection. Yet I could not help striving to call upon my soul and all within me to bless the name of God. The next day, he set out in the cool of the afternoon on his journey to Northampton, attended by his brother and my daughter that went with him to Boston, and would have been accompanied out of the town by a number of gentlemen, had not his aversion to anything of pomp and show prevented it.
Twenty-fifth. I arrived here, Northampton, having set out from Boston on Monday about 4 o'clock p.m. In this journey, I rode about 16 miles a day, one with another. I was sometimes extremely tired, so that it seemed impossible to me to proceed any further. At other times I was considerably better and felt some freedom both of body and of mind. Lord's Day, July 26. This day I saw clearly that God Himself could not make me happy unless I could be in a capacity to please and glorify Him forever. Take away this and admit me into all the fine heavens that can be conceived by men or angels, and I should still be miserable forever. Though he had so far revived as to be able to travel thus far, yet he manifested no expectation of recovery.
He supposed, as his physician did, that his being brought so near to death at Boston was owing to the breaking ulcers in his lungs. He told me that he had had several such ill turns before, only not to so high a degree, but as he supposed, owing to the same cause, that he was brought lower and lower every time, and it appeared to him that in his last sickness, In Boston, he was brought as low as possible and yet alive, and that he had not the least expectation of surviving the next return of this breaking of ulcers, but still appeared perfectly calm.
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On Wednesday morning, the week after he came to Northampton, he took leave of his brother Israel, never expecting to see him again in this world. When Mr. Brainerd came hither, he had so much strength as to be able, from day to day, to ride out While he was here, his conversation from first to last was much on the same subjects as it had been in Boston. He was much in speaking of the nature of true religion of heart and practice, as distinguished from its various counterfeits, expressing his great concern that the latter did so much prevail in many places. He often manifested his great abhorrence of all such doctrines and principles in religion, as in any way savored of, and had any, though but a remote tendency, to antinomianism, of all such notions as seemed to diminish the necessity of holiness of life, or to abate men's regard to the commands of God, and a strict, diligent, and universal practice of virtue under a pretense of depreciating our works and magnifying God's free grace.
He spake often with much detestation of such discoveries and joys as have nothing of the nature of sanctification in them, and do not tend to strictness, tenderness, and diligence in religion, and meekness and benevolence toward mankind. And he also declared that he looked on such pretended humility as worthy of no regard, that was not manifested by morality of conduct and conversation. After he came hither, as long as he lived, he was much in speaking of the future prosperity of Zion, that is so often promised in the Scripture, and his mind seemed to be carried forth with intense desires that religion might speedily revive and flourish. Yea, the nearer death advanced, still the more did his mind seem to be taken up with this subject.
He told me, when near his end, That he never in all his life had his mind so led forth in desires and earnest prayers for the flourishing of Christ's kingdom on earth as since he was brought so exceedingly low at Boston. He seemed much to wonder that there appeared no more of a disposition in ministers and people to pray for the flourishing of religion through the world, that so little a part of their prayers was generally taken up about it in their families and elsewhere. And particularly, he several times expressed his wonder that there appeared no more forwardness to comply with the proposal lately made in a memorial from a number of ministers in Scotland and sent over into America for united extraordinary prayer among ministers and people for the coming of Christ's kingdom, and he sent as his dying advice to his own congregation that they should practice agreeably to that proposal.
His congregation, since this, have with great cheerfulness and unanimity fallen in with this advice, and have practiced agreeably to the proposal from Scotland, and have at times appeared with uncommon engagedness and fervency of spirit in their united devotions pursuant to that proposal. Also, the Presbyteries of New York and New Brunswick, since this, have with one consent fallen in with the proposal, as likewise some other of God's people in those parts."
Though he was exceeding weak, yet there appeared in him a continual care well to employ time, and fill it up with something that might be profitable, either profitable conversation, or writing letters to absent friends, or noting something in his diary, or looking over his former writings, correcting them, and preparing them to be left in the hands of others at his death, or giving some directions concerning a future management of his people, or employment in secret devotions. He seemed never to be easy, however ill, if he was not doing something for God or in his service. In his diary for Lord's Day, August 16th, he speaks of his having so much refreshment of soul in the house of God that it seemed also to refresh his body.
And this is not only noted in his diary, but was very observable to others. It was very apparent, not only that his mind was exhilarated with inward consolation, but also that his animal spirits and bodily strength were remarkably restored. But this was the last time that he ever attended public worship on the Sabbath. On Tuesday morning that week, I being absent on a journey, he prayed with my family, but not without much difficulty, and this was the last family prayer that he ever made. He had been wont, till now, frequently to ride out two or three miles, but this week on Thursday was the last time he ever did so. Lord's Day, August 23rd. This morning I was considerably refreshed with the thought, yea, the expectation of the enlargement of Christ's kingdom.
And I could not but hope the time was at hand when Babylon the Great would fall and rise no more. I was unable to attend public worship, but God was pleased to afford me satisfaction in divine thoughts. Nothing so refreshes my soul as when I can go to God. Yea, to God my exceeding joy. In this week past, I had diverse turns of inward refreshing, though my body was inexpressibly weak. Sometimes my soul centered in God as my only portion, and I felt that I should be forever unhappy if He did not reign. I saw the sweetness and happiness of being His subject at His disposal. This made all my difficulties quickly vanish. Till this week, he had been wont to lodge in a room above the stairs, but now he grew so weak that he was no longer able to go up stairs and down.
Friday, August 28th, was the last time he ever went above stairs. Hence, forward he betook himself to a lower room. September 2nd. Being the day of our public lecture, he seemed to be refreshed with seeing the neighboring ministers and expressed a great desire once more to go to the house of God, and accordingly rode to the meeting and attended divine service while the Reverend Mr. Woodbridge of Hatfield preached. He signified that he supposed it to be the last time that ever he should attend public worship, as it proved. And indeed it was the last time that he ever went out of our gate alive. On Saturday evening he was visited by his brother, Mr. John Brainerd. He was much refreshed by this unexpected visit, this brother being peculiarly dear to him, and he seemed to rejoice in a devout manner to see him and to hear the comfortable tidings he brought concerning the state of his dear Indians.
And a circumstance of this visit that he was exceedingly glad of was that his brother brought him some of his private writings from New Jersey. And particularly his diary that he had kept for many years past. Lord's Day, September 6th. I began to read some of my private writings which my brother brought me and was considerably refreshed with what I met with in them. Seventh. I proceeded further in reading my old private writings and found that they had the same effect upon me as before. I could not but rejoice and bless God for what had passed long ago, which, without writing, had been entirely lost. This evening, when I was in great distress of body, my soul longed that God should be glorified.
I saw there was no heaven but this. I could not but speak to the bystanders, then, of the only happiness, viz, pleasing God. Oh, that I could ever live to God! The day I trust is at hand, the perfect day. Lord's Day, September 13th. I was much refreshed and engaged in meditation and writing, and found a heart to act for God. My spirits were refreshed, and my soul delighted to do something for God. On the evening following, his feet began to swell, which thenceforward swelled more and more, a symptom of his disillusion coming on. The next day his brother left him, being obliged to return to New Jersey on some business of great importance, intending to return again with all possible speed, hoping to see his brother yet once more in the land of the living.
Mr. Brainerd, having now with much deliberation considered the important affair aforementioned left with him by the commissioners in Boston v. the recommending two persons proper to be employed as missionaries to the Six Nations, he about this time wrote a letter recommending two young gentlemen of his acquaintance v. Mr. Elihu Spencer of East Haddam and Mr. Job Strong of Northampton. The commissioners on receipt of this letter unanimously agreed to accept of the persons he had recommended. He also this week wrote a letter to a gentleman in Boston relating to the growth of the Indian school in the need of another schoolmaster. The gentleman on the receipt of this letter had a meeting and agreed with cheerfulness to give 200 pounds in bills of the old tenor for the support of another schoolmaster and desired Mr.
Pemberton of New York as soon as possible to procure a suitable person for that service and also agreed to allow 75 pounds to defray some special charges that were requisite to encourage the mission to the Six Nations. Mr. Brainerd spent himself much in writing those letters, being exceedingly weak, but it seemed to be much to his satisfaction that he had been enabled to do it, hoping that it was something done for God and which might be for the advancement of Christ's kingdom and glory. In writing the last of these letters, he was obliged to use the hand of another, not being able to write himself. On Thursday, September 17th, was the last time that he ever went out of his lodging room. That day he was again visited by his brother Israel, who continued with him henceforward till his death.
On that evening he was taken with a diarrhea, which he looked upon as another sign of approaching death, whereupon he expressed himself thus, O the glorious time is now coming! I have longed to serve God perfectly. Now God will gratify those desires. And from time to time, at the several new symptoms of his dissolution, he was so far from being damped that he seemed to be animated, as being glad at the appearances of death's approach. He often used the epithet, glorious, when speaking of the day of his death, calling it that glorious day. And as he saw his dissolution gradually approaching, he was much in talking about it, and also settling all his affairs, very particularly and minutely giving directions concerning what he would have done.
And the nearer death approached, the more desirous he seemed to be of it. He several times spake of the different kinds of willingness to die, and spoke of it as a mean kind of willingness to die, to be willing to leave the body, only to get rid of pain. Nineteenth, while I attempted to walk a little, my thoughts turned thus. How infinitely sweet it is to love God and be all for Him! Upon which it was suggested to me, You are not an angel, lively and active. To which my soul immediately replied, I as sincerely desire to love and glorify God as any angel in heaven. Upon which it was suggested again, but you are filthy and not fit for heaven. Hereupon instantly appeared the blessed robes of Christ's righteousness, which I could not but exalt and triumph in, and I viewed the infinite excellency of God, and my soul even broke out with longings that God should be glorified.
I thought of dignity in heaven, but instantly the thought returned, I do not go to heaven to get honor, but to give all possible glory and praise. Oh, how I longed that God should be glorified on earth also. Bodily pains I cared not for, though I was then in extremity. I never felt easier. I felt willing to glorify God in that state as long as He pleased. The grave appeared really sweet, and I longed to lodge my weary bones in it. But oh, that God might be glorified. This was the burden of all my cry. Oh, I knew I should be active as an angel in heaven, and that I should be stripped of filthy garments. But oh, to love and praise God more, to please Him forever. This my soul panted after, and even now pants for while I write.
Oh, that God might be glorified in the whole earth. Lord, let Thy kingdom come. I longed for a spirit of preaching to descend and rest on ministers that they might address the consciences of men with closeness and power. I saw God had the residue of the Spirit, and my soul longed it should be poured from on high. I could not but plead with God for my dear congregation that He would preserve it, and not suffer His great name to lose its glory in that work, my soul still longing that God might be glorified. In the evening, His mouth spake out of the abundance of His heart, expressing in a very affecting manner much the same things as are written in His diary. And, among many other extraordinary expressions, were these.
My heaven is to please God and glorify Him and to give all to Him and be wholly devoted to His glory. That is the heaven I long for. This is my religion. That is my happiness. And always ever since I had any true religion and all those that are of that religion shall meet me in heaven. I do not go to heaven to be advanced, but to give honor to God. It is no matter where I shall be stationed in heaven, whether I have a high or a low seat there, but to love and please and glorify God is all. Had I a thousand souls, if they were worth anything, I would give them all to God, but I have nothing to give when all is done. It is impossible for any rational creature to be happy without acting all for God.
God Himself could not make Him happy any other way. I long to be in heaven, praising and glorifying God with the holy angels. All my desire is to glorify God. My heart goes out to the burying place. It seems to me a desirable place, but oh, to glorify God. That is it. That is above all. It is a great comfort to me to think that I have done a little for God in the world. Oh, it is, but a very small matter. Yet I have done a little, and I lament that I have not done more for Him. There is nothing in the world worth living for but doing good and finishing God's work. I see nothing else in the world that can yield any satisfaction besides living to God, pleasing Him, and doing His whole will. My greatest joy and comfort has been to do something for promoting the interest of religion and the souls of particular persons, and now, in my illness, while I am full of pain and distress from day to day, all the comfort I have is in being able to do some little char, or small piece of work, for God, either by something I say, or writing, or some other way.
He intermingled with these and other like expressions many pathetic counsels to those that were about him, particularly to my children and servants. He applied himself to some of my younger children at this time, calling them to him and speaking to them one by one, setting before them, in a very plain manner, the nature of true piety and its great importance, earnestly warning them not to rest in anything short of a true and thorough change of heart and a life devoted to God. Counseling them not to be slack in the great business of religion, or in the least to delay it, enforcing his counsels with this, that his words were the words of a dying man. Said he, I shall die here, and here shall I be buried, and here you will see my grave, and do you remember what I have said to you?
I am going to eternity, and it is sweet to me to think of eternity. The endlessness of it makes it sweet. But oh, what shall I say to the eternity of the wicked? I cannot mention it, nor think of it. The thought is too dreadful. When you see my grave, then remember what I said to you when I was alive. Then think with yourself how that man that lies in that grave counseled and warned me to prepare for death. His body seemed to be marvelously strengthened through the inward vigor of his mind, so that although before he was so weak he could hardly utter a sentence, yet now he continued his most affecting discourse for more than an hour with scarce any intermission. And said of it when he had done, it was the last sermon that ever he should preach.
It appears by what is noted in his diary, both of this day and the evening preceding, that his mind was at this time much impressed with a sense of the importance of the work of the ministry, and the need of the grace of God, and his special assistance in this work, and it also appeared in what he expressed in conversation, particularly in his discourse to his brother Israel, who was then a member of Yale College at New Haven. And had been prosecuting his studies there, to the end that he might be fitted for the work of the ministry, and was now with him. He now and from time to time recommended to his brother a life of self-denial, or weanedness from the world, and devotedness to God, and an earnest endeavor to obtain much of the grace of God's Spirit, and God's gracious influence on his heart, representing the great need which ministers stand in of them, and the unspeakable benefit of them from his own experience.
Among many other expressions, he said, when ministers feel these gracious influences on their hearts, it wonderfully assists them to come at the consciences of men, and as it were, to handle them with hands, whereas without them, whatever reason and oratory we make use of, we do but make use of stumps instead of hands. September 21st. I began to correct a little volume of my private writings. God, I believe, remarkably helped me in it. My strength was surprisingly lengthened out, and my thoughts quick and lively, and my soul refreshed, hoping it might be a work for God. Oh, how good, how sweet it is to labor for God. 22nd. I was again employed in reading and correcting and had the same success as the day before.
I was exceeding weak, but it seemed to refresh my soul thus to spend my time. 23rd. I finished my corrections of the little piece aforementioned and felt uncommonly peaceful. It seemed as if I had now done all my work in this world and stood ready for my call to a better. As long as I see anything to be done for God, life is worth having. But oh, how vain and unworthy it is to live for any lower end. This day I was unspeakably weak and little better than speechless all the day. However, I was able to write a little and felt comfortably. Oh, it refreshed my soul to think of former things, of desires to glorify God, of the pleasures of living to Him. Oh, my dear God, I am speedily coming to Thee, I hope.
Hasten the day, O Lord, if it be Thy blessed will. O come, Lord Jesus, come quickly. Amen.
This was the last that ever he wrote in his diary with his own hand, though it is continued a little farther, in a broken manner, written by his brother Israel, but indicted by his mouth. End footnote. Twenty-seventh. He felt an unusual appetite for food, with which his mind seemed to be exhilarated, as a sign of the very near approach of death. He said upon it, I was born on a Sabbath day, and I have reason to think I was new-born on a Sabbath day, and I hope I shall die on this Sabbath day. I shall look upon it as a favor. If it may be the will of God that it should be so, I long for the time. Oh, why is the chariot so long in coming? Why tarry the wheels of his chariot? I am very willing to part with all.
I am willing to part with my dear brother John, and never to see him again, to go to be forever with the Lord. Oh, when I go there, how will God's dear church on earth be upon my mind? Afterwards, the same morning, being asked how he did, he answered, I am almost in eternity. I long to be there. My work is done. I have done with all my friends. All the world is nothing to me. I long to be in heaven, praising and glorifying God with the holy angels. All my desire is to glorify God. During the whole of these last two weeks of his life, he seemed to continue loose from all the world, as having done his work, and done with all things here below, having nothing to do but to die, and abiding in an earnest desire and expectation of the happy moment, when his soul should take its flight and go to a state of perfection, of holiness, and perfect, glorifying, and enjoying God.
He said that the consideration of the day of death and the day of judgment had a long time been peculiarly sweet to him. He, from time to time, spoke of his being willing to leave the body and the world immediately, that moment if it were the will of God. He also was much in expressing his longings that the church of Christ on earth might flourish, and Christ's kingdom here might be advanced, notwithstanding he was about to leave the earth, and should not with his eyes behold the desirable event. He said to me one morning, my thoughts have been employed on the old dear theme, the prosperity of God's church on earth. As I waked out of sleep, I was led to cry for the pouring out of God's Spirit and the advancement of Christ's kingdom, which the Redeemer did and suffered so much for.
It is that especially which makes me long for it. He once told me that he had formerly longed for the outpouring of the Spirit of God and the glorious times of the church and hoped they were coming. And should have been willing to have lived to promote religion at that time if it had been the will of God. But, says he, I am willing it should be as it is. I would not have the choice to make for myself for ten thousand worlds. He also still dwelt much on the great importance of the work of ministers, and expressed his longings that they might be filled with the Spirit of God, and manifested much desire to see some of the neighboring ministers, whom he had some acquaintance with, that he might converse freely with them on that subject before he died.
And it so happened that he had opportunity with some of them according to his desire. Another thing that lay much on his heart, and that he spake of from time to time in these near approaches of death, He also expressed much satisfaction in the disposals of Providence with regard to the circumstances of his death, particularly that God had, before his death, given him the opportunity he had in Boston, with so many considerable persons, ministers, and others, to give in his testimony for God and against false religion. And there to lay before charitable gentlemen the state of the Indians to good effect, and that God had since given him opportunity to write them further concerning these affairs, and to write other letters of importance that he hoped might be of good influence with regard to the state of religion among the Indians and elsewhere after his death.
He also mentioned it as what he accounted a merciful circumstance of his death that he should die here. And speaking of these things, he said, God had granted him all his desire. And signified that now he could, with the greater alacrity, leave the world. September 28th. I was able to read and make some few corrections in my private writings, but found I could not write as I had done. I found myself sensibly declined in all respects. It has been only from a little while before noon, till about one or two o'clock, that I have been able to do anything for some time past, yet this refreshed my heart, that I could do anything, either public or private, for God. This evening he was supposed to be dying.
He thought so himself, and was glad at the appearance of death. He was almost speechless, but his lips appeared to move. One that sat very near him heard him utter, Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly. Oh, why is his chariot so long in coming? After he revived, he blamed himself for having been too eager to be gone. In expressing what he found in his mind at that time, he said he then found an inexpressibly sweet love to those whom he looked upon as belonging to Christ. Beyond all that he ever felt before, so that it seemed, to use his own words, like a little piece of heaven, to have one of them near him. Being asked whether he heard the prayer that was that his desire made with him, he said, yes, he heard every word and had uncommon sense of the things that were uttered in that prayer, and that every word reached his heart.
On the evening of September 29th, as he lay on his bed, he seemed to be in an extraordinary frame. His mind greatly engaged concerning the prosperity of Zion. There being present at that time two candidates for the ministry, he desired us all to unite in singing a psalm on that subject, even Zion's prosperity. And by his desire we sung a part of the 102nd Psalm. This seemed much to refresh him, and gave him new strength, so that though before he could scarce speak at all, now he proceeded with some freedom of speech. to give his dying counsels to those two young gentlemen relating to that great work of the ministry they were designed for, and in particularly, earnestly recommended to them frequent secret fasting and prayer, and enforced his counsel with regard to this from his own experience of the great comfort and benefit of it, which, said he, I should not mention were it not that I am a dying person.
And after he had finished his council, he made a prayer in the audience of us all, wherein, besides praying for his family, for his brethren, and those candidates for the ministry, and for his own congregation, he earnestly prayed for the reviving and flourishing of religion in the world. Till now, he had every day sat up a part of the day, but after this, he never rose from his bed. September 30th. I was obliged to keep my bed the whole day through weakness. However, I redeemed a little time, and with the help of my brother read and corrected about a dozen pages in my manuscript, giving an account of my conversion. October 2nd, my soul was this day at turns sweetly set on God. I longed to be with Him, that I might behold His glory.
I felt sweetly disposed to commit all to Him, even my dearest friends, my dearest flock, and my absent brother, and all my concerns for time and eternity. O, that His kingdom might come into the world, that they might all love and glorify Him, and that the Blessed Redeemer might see of the travail of His soul and be satisfied. O come, Lord Jesus, come, Footnote. Here ends his diary. These are the last words that are written in it, either by his own hand or from his mouth. End footnote. The next evening we expected his brother John from New Jersey, it being about a week after the time that he proposed for his return. And though our expectations were still disappointed, yet Mr. Brainerd seemed to continue unmoved in the same calm frame that he had before manifested, as having resigned all to God and having done with his friends and with all things here below.
On the morning of the Lord's Day, October 4th, as my daughter Jerusha Who chiefly attended him, came into the room. He looked on her very pleasantly and said, Dear Jerusha, are you willing to part with me? I am quite willing to part with you. I am willing to part with all my friends. I am willing to part with my dear brother John, although I love him the best of any creature living. I have committed him and all my friends to God, and can leave them with God. Though if I thought I should not see you and be happy with you in another world, I could not bear to part with you. But we shall spend a happy eternity together.
Since this, it has pleased God to take away this my dear child by death, on the 14th of February following, after a short illness of five days in the 18th year of her age. She was a person of much the same spirit with Mr. Brainerd. She had constantly taken care of and attended him in his sickness for 19 weeks before his death. Devoting herself to it with great delight, because she looked on him as an eminent servant of Jesus Christ. In this time he had much conversation with her on the things of religion, and in his dying state often expressed to us, her parents, his great satisfaction concerning her true piety, and his confidence that he should meet her in heaven, and his high opinion of her, not only as a true Christian, but a very eminent saint, one whose soul was uncommonly fed and entertained with things that appertained to the most spiritual parts of religion.
And one who, by the temper of her mind, was the fittest to deny herself for God and to do good beyond any young woman that he knew of. She had manifested a heart uncommonly devoted to God in the course of her life. Many years before she was End footnote.
In the evening, as one came into the room with a Bible in her hand, he said, Oh, that dear book, that lovely book, I shall soon see it opened. The mysteries that are in it and the mysteries of God's providence will be unfolded. His distemper now apparently preyed upon his vitals, not by a sudden breaking of ulcers in his lungs as in Boston. But by a constant discharge of purulent matter in great quantities, so that what he brought up by expectoration seemed to be, as it were, mouthfuls of almost clear pus, which was attended with very great inward pain and distress. October 9th. He lay for a considerable time as if he were dying, at which time he was heard to utter in broken whispers such expressions as these, He will come, he will not tarry, I shall soon be in glory.
I shall soon glorify God with the angels. But after some time he revived. The next day his brother John arrived from New Jersey, where he had been detained much longer than he intended, by a mortal sickness prevailing among the Christian Indians. Mr. Brainerd was refreshed with seeing him and appeared fully satisfied with the reasons of his delay, seeing the interests of religion and of the souls of his people required of it. Thursday, October 8th. He told me it was impossible for anyone to conceive the distress he felt in his breast. He manifested much concern lest he should dishonor God by impatience. He desired that others would be much in uplifting their hearts to God for him. He signified that he expected to die that night, but seemed to fear a longer delay, and the disposition of his mind with regard to death appeared still the same that it had been all along.
And notwithstanding his bodily agonies, yet the interest of Zion lay still with great weight on his mind, as appeared by some considerable discourse he had that evening with Mr. Billing, one of the neighboring ministers, concerning the great importance of the work of the ministry. Afterwards, when it was very late in the night, he had much discourse with his brother John concerning his congregation in New Jersey and the interest of religion among the Indians. In the latter part of the night, his bodily distresses seemed to rise to a greater height than ever, and he said to those about him that it was another thing to die than what people imagined, explaining himself to me that they were not aware what bodily pain and anguish are undergone before death.
Toward day his eyes were fixed, and he continued lying immovable until about six o'clock in the morning, and then expired, on Friday, October 6, 1747, when his soul was received by his dear Lord and Master as an eminently faithful servant, into a state of perfection of holiness and fruition of God, which he had so ardently longed for. Thus died, in the thirtieth year of his age, the excellent and indefatigable David Brainerd, After having been engaged four years in the arduous labor of a missionary of Christ. Much respect was shown to his memory at his funeral, which was on the Monday following, after a sermon preached the same day on that occasion. His funeral was attended by eight of the neighboring ministers, 17 other gentlemen of liberal education, and a great concourse of people.
If the greatness of a character is to be estimated by the object which it pursues, the dangers it braves, the difficulties it encounters, and the purity and energy of its motives, David Brainerd is one of the greatest characters that ever appeared in the world. Compared with this standard of greatness, what little things are the Alexanders, the Caesars, the conquerors, and the tyrants of the whole earth? A nobler object no human or angelic mind could ever propose to itself than to promote the glory of the great governor of the universe in studying and laboring to diffuse purity and happiness among his unholy and miserable creatures. To pursue this object with unwearied and unchangeable firmness, to make every thought, wish, and action to center in it, and to suffer the greatest hardships rather than for one moment to abandon it, displays an elevation of character which excites in the beholder the profoundest reverence.
But it is motive which is mighty in the eyes of heaven, and who will impeach the motives of a man who endured all his afflictions, who encountered all his difficulties in the promotion of a cause which the world despises, and in opposition to ambition, the love of wealth, the love of ease, and a passion for fame. Take away these stimuli from the little creatures we call great, and they sink into insipid negligence and fatuity. Purity of motive is essential to real worth, and that worth is to be estimated by the energy of the principle. Love to God and man, as we have before remarked, led Brainerd to renounce the quiescent feelings. Nor was there anything in the feeble state of his body, and the apparently insurmountable barriers which surrounded him on every side that could damp his ardor.
His benevolence was an immortal flame. Many waters could not quench it, neither could the floods drown it, and at this moment it warms the spirit that tunes the loudest and the sweetest harp in heaven. The life of Brainerd presents a conduct worthy of the closest imitation. Twenty such men in Britain laboring for ten years. What would they not accomplish? Not a town, not a village in the empire would have reason to complain. No man careth for our souls. Lord of harvest, send forth many such laborers. Thou that hast the seven stars in thy right hand, appoint thy chosen priests according to their orders and courses of old, to minister before thee, and duly to press and pour out the consecrated oil into thy holy and ever-burning lamps.
For this purpose, send out the spirit of prayer upon thy churches, and stir up their vows as the sound of many waters round about thy throne. We learn from the life of Holy Brainerd the value and honor which we ought to put upon missionaries of Christ. If we esteem ministers who labor in civilized places, surrounded by their friends, and protected by law, surely missionaries whose exertions are far more abundant than theirs, and who are deprived of all the endearments of society, and exposed to the most imminent dangers, have an infinitely higher claim upon our regard. A missionary demands admiration. To sacrifice every earthly interest, to choose a dreary exile, to abjure the consolations of friendship in our native country, to labor where we are not known, where the voice of encouragement is never heard, and the tear of affection never mingled with our own, displays a greatness beyond even the conception of common men.
I never see a missionary, but I think I behold a visible representation of him who went about doing good. A missionary claims our sympathy. What? Are we brethren in Christ Jesus? Do we long for the glory of Messiah's kingdom? And shall we not remember, with sympathizing kindness, those who, because the love of Christ constraineth them, are voluntary sufferers in heathen countries? Yes, ye missionaries of Jesus, if we forget you, may our right hand forget its cunning. Missionaries need our prayers. In this respect, we are bound to hold up their hands. We should never bow before a throne of grace without earnestly imploring the choicest blessings of heaven to be poured forth upon them. Missionaries likewise deserve our support.
We should give of the gold of Sheba to those who are the most active and devoted laborers in the vineyard of our Lord. They should suffer no privation when we can furnish them with the comforts they require. Supported is their right, and I dare believe that the liberality of Christians will always encourage the work of missions that they will ever exert themselves for the glorious object which they have solemnly pledged themselves to promote at the altar of devotion. We have abundant reason to rejoice in the diffusion of a missionary spirit and in the increase of missionaries. Holy Brainerd feels his heaven enriched while he contemplates the enlargement of Emmanuel's empire. He was but the morning star of a missionary day.
The twilight has now passed away. The morning dawns. The star gives place to the glorious sun, and that sun shall enlighten the whole globe at one in the same moment. The earth shall be full of his glory, and it shall be a glory of grace and truth, of righteousness and peace. O thou Prince of the kings of the earth, come forth out of thy royal chambers. Put on the visible robes of thy imperial majesty. Take up that unlimited scepter, which thy almighty Father hath bequeathed thee. For now the voice of thy bride calls thee, and all creatures sigh to be renewed.
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Appendix, containing some reflections and observations in the memoirs of Mr. Brainerd by President Evans. We have here opportunity, as I apprehend, in a very lively instance, to see the nature of true religion And the manner of its operation when exemplified in a high degree and powerful exercise. Particularly, it may be worthy to be observed how greatly Mr. Brainard's religion differed from that of some pretenders to the experience of a clear work of saving conversion wrought on their hearts, who, depending and living on that, settle in a cold, careless, and carnal frame of mind, and in a neglect of thorough, earnest religion in the stated practice of it. Although his convictions and conversion were in all respects exceeding clear and very remarkable, yet how far was he from acting as though he thought he had got through his work when once he had obtained comfort and satisfaction of his interest in Christ and title to heaven?
On the contrary, that work on his heart by which he was brought to this was with him evidently but the beginning of his work, his first entering on the great business of religion and the service of God, his first setting out in his race. His obtaining rest of soul in Christ, after earnest striving to enter in at the straight gate, and being violent to take the kingdom of heaven, he did not look upon as putting an end to any further occasion for striving and violence in religion. But these were continued still, and maintained constantly through all changes, to the very end of life. His work was not finished, nor his race ended, till life was ended, agreeable to scripture representations of the Christian life.
He continued pressing forward in a constant manner, forgetting the things that were behind, and reaching forth towards the things that were before. His pains and earnestness in the business of religion were rather increased than diminished after he had received comfort and satisfaction concerning the safety of his state. Those divine principles, which after this he was actuated by, of love to God and longings and thirstings after holiness, seemed to be more effectual to engage him to pains and activity in religion than fear of hell had been before. And as his conversion was not the end of his work, or of the course of his diligence and strivings in religion, so neither was it the end of the work of the Spirit of God on his heart.
But on the contrary, the beginning of that work, the beginning of his spiritual discoveries and holy views, the first dawning of the light, which thenceforward increased more and more, the beginning of his holy affections, his sorrow for sin, his love to God, his rejoicing in Christ Jesus. His longings after holiness. And the powerful operations of the Spirit of God in these things were carried on from the day of his conversion in a continued course to his dying day. His religious experiences, his admiration, his joy and praise and flowing affections did not only hold up to a considerable height for a few days, weeks, or months at first, while hope and comfort were new things with him. And then gradually dwindle and die away till they came to almost nothing, and so leave him without any sensible or remarkable experience of spiritual discoveries, or holy and divine affections for months altogether.
With respect to any present views of God's glory.
And so rest easy, thinking all things are well. They have had a good, clear work, and their state is safe. And they doubt not, but they shall go to heaven when they die. How far otherwise was it with Mr. Brainerd than it is with such persons? His experiences, instead of dying away, were evidently of an increasing nature. His first love and other holy affections, even at the beginning, were very great. But after months and years, it became much greater and more remarkable, and the spiritual exercises of his mind continued exceeding great. Though not equally so at all times, yet usually so, without indulged remissness, and without habitual dwindling and dying away, even till his decease. They began in a time of general deadness all over the land and were greatly increased in a time of general reviving of religion.
And when religion decayed again, and a general deadness returned, his experiences were still kept up in their height, and his holy exercises maintained in their life and vigor. And so continued to be, in a general course, wherever he was, and whatever his circumstances were, among English and Indians, in company and alone, in towns and cities, and in the howling wilderness, in sickness and in health, living and dying. This is agreeable to scripture descriptions of true and right religion, and of the Christian life. The change that was wrought in him at his conversion was agreeable to Scripture representations of that change which is wrought in true conversion, a great change and an abiding change, rendering him a new man, a new creature, not only a change as to hope and comfort and an apprehension of his own good estate, and a transient change consisting in high flights of passing affections, but a change of nature, a change of the abiding habit and temper of his mind.
Nor a partial change merely in point of opinion or outward reformation, much less a change from one error to another, from one sin to another, but an universal change, both internal and external, as from corrupt and dangerous principles in religion, unto the belief of the truth, so from both the habits and ways of sin, unto universal holiness of heart and practice, from the power and service of Satan unto God. His religion did apparently and greatly differ from that of many high pretenders to religion, who are frequently actuated by vehement emotions of mind, and are carried on in a course of sudden and strong impressions, and supposed high illuminations and immediate discoveries, and at the same time are persons of a virulent zeal, not according to knowledge.
His convictions preceding his conversion did not arise from any frightful impressions on his imagination or any external images and ideas of fire and brimstone, a sword of vengeance drawn, a dark pit open, devils in terrible shapes, etc., strongly fixed in his mind. His sight of his own sinfulness did not consist in any imagination of a heap of loathsome material filthiness within him, nor did his sense of the hardness of his heart consist in any bodily feeling in his breast, something hard and heavy like a stone, nor in any imagination whatever of such a nature. His first discovery of God of Christ at His conversion was not any strong idea of any external glory or brightness, or majesty and beauty of countenance, or pleasant voice, nor was it any supposed immediate manifestation of God.
Either words of Scripture or any other. But a manifestation of God's glory and the beauty of His nature, as supremely excellent in itself, powerfully drawing and sweetly captivating the heart, bringing Him to a hearty desire to exalt God, set Him on the throne, and give Him supreme honor and glory, as the King and Sovereign of the universe, and also a new sense of the infinite wisdom, suitableness, and excellency of the way of salvation by Christ, powerfully engaging his whole soul to embrace this way of salvation, And to delight in it. His first faith did not consist in believing that Christ loved him, and died for him in particular. His first comfort was not from any secret suggestion of God's eternal love to him, or that God was reconciled to him, or intended great mercy for him.
By any such texts as these, Son, be of good cheer, thy sins are forgiven thee, fear not, I am thy God, etc., or in any such way. On the contrary, when God's glory was first discovered to him, it was without any thought of salvation as his own. His first experience of the sanctifying and comforting power of God's Spirit did not begin in some bodily sensation, any pleasant warm feeling in his breast, that he, as some others, called the feeling of the love of Christ in him, and being full of the Spirit. How exceeding far were his experiences at his first conversion from things of such a nature! And if we look through the whole series of his experiences, from his conversion to his death, we shall find none of this kind.
I have had occasion to read his diary over and over, and very particularly and critically to review every passage in it, and I find no one instance of a strong impression on his imagination through his whole life, no instance of a strongly impressed idea of any external glory and brightness, of any bodily form and shape. Any beautiful, majestic countenance. No imaginary sight of Christ hanging on the cross with His blood streaming from His wounds, or seated in heaven on a bright throne with angels and saints bowing before Him, or with a countenance smiling on Him, or arms open to embrace Him. No sight of heaven in His imagination with gates of pearl and golden streets and vast multitudes of glorious inhabitants with shining garments.
No sight of the Book of Life opened with His name written in it. No hearing of the sweet music made by the songs of heavenly hosts. No hearing God or Christ immediately speaking to him, nor any sudden suggestions of words or sentences, either words of Scripture or any other, as then immediately spoken or sent to him. No new objective revelations, no sudden strong suggestions of secret facts. Nor do I find any one instance in all the records he has left of his own life, from beginning to end, of joy excited from a supposed immediate witness of the Spirit, or inward immediate suggestion that his state was surely good, that God loved him with an everlasting love, that Christ died for him in particular, and that heaven was his, either with or without a text of Scripture.
No instance of comfort by a sudden bearing in upon his mind, as though at that very time directed by God to him in particular. Any such kind of text as these, Fear not, I am with thee. It is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom. You have not chosen me, but I have chosen you. I have called thee by name, thou art mine. Before thou wast formed in the belly, I knew thee, etc. No supposed communion and conversation with God carried on in this way. No such supposed tasting of the love of Christ. But the way he was satisfied of his own good estate, even to the entire abolishing of fear, was by feeling within himself the lively actings of a holy temper and heavenly disposition, the vigorous exercises of that divine love which cast out fear.
This was the way he had full satisfaction soon after his conversion. See his diary on October 18th and 19th, 1740. And we find no other way of satisfaction through his whole life afterwards. And this he abundantly declared to be the way, the only way that he had complete satisfaction when he looked death in the face in its near approaches. Some of the pretenders to an immediate witness by suggestion and defenders of it with an assuming confidence would bear us in hand that there is no full assurance without it, and that the way of being satisfied by signs and arguing and interest in Christ from sanctification, if it will keep men quiet in life and health, yet will never do when they come to die.
Then, they say, men must have immediate witness or else be in a dreadful uncertainty. But Mr. Brainerd's experience is a confutation of this, for in him we have an instance of one that possessed as constant and unshaken an assurance through the course of his life after conversion, as perhaps can be produced in this age, which yet he obtained and enjoyed without any such sort of testimony, and without all manner of appearance of it, or pretense to it. Yea, while utterly disclaiming any such thing and declaring against it, and one whose assurance we need not scruple to affirm, has as fair a claim, and as just a pretension to truth and genuineness, as any that the pretenders to immediate witness can produce, and not only an instance of one that had such an assurance in life, But had it in a constant manner in his last illness, and particularly in the latter stages of it, through those last months of his life, wherein death was more sensibly approaching without the least hope of life, and had it, too, in its fullness and in the height of its exercise under those repeated trials that he had in this space of time, when brought from time to time to the very brink of the grave, expecting in a few minutes to be in eternity.
He had the full assurance of hope unto the end. When on the verge of eternity he then declares his assurance to be such as perfectly secluded all fear, and not only so, but it manifestly filled his soul with exceeding joy, he declaring at the same time that this his consolation and good hope through grace arose wholly from the evidence he had of his good estate, by what he found of his sanctification, or the exercise of a holy, heavenly temper of mind, supreme love to God, etc. And not in the least from any immediate witness by suggestion. Yea, he declares that at these very times he saw the awful delusion of that confidence which is built on such a foundation, as well as of the whole of that religion which it usually springs from, or at least is the attendant of, and that his soul abhorred these delusions, and he continued in this mind often expressing it with much solemnity, even till death.
Mr. Brainard's religion was not selfish and mercenary. His love to God was primarily and principally for the Supreme Excellency of his own nature, and not built on a preconceived notion that God loved him, had received him into favor, and had done great things for him, or promised great things to him. So his joy was joy in God and not in himself. We see by his diary how, from time to time, through the course of his life, his soul was filled with ineffable sweetness and comfort. But what was the spring of this strong and abiding consolation? Not so much the consideration of the sure grounds he had to think that his state was good, that God had delivered him from hell, that heaven was his, or any thoughts concerning his own distinguished, happy, and exalted circumstances as a high favorite of heaven.
But the sweet meditations and entertaining views he had of divine things without himself, the affecting considerations and lively ideas of God's infinite glory, his unchangeable blessedness, his sovereignty, and universal dominion, together with the sweet exercises of love to God, giving himself up to him, abasing himself before him, denying himself for him, depending upon him, acting for his glory, diligently serving him, and the pleasing prospects It appears plainly and abundantly all along, from his conversion to his death, that that beauty, that sort of good which was the great object of the new sense of his mind, the new relish and appetite given him in conversion, and thenceforward maintained and increased in his heart, was holiness, conformity to God, living to God, and glorifying Him.
This was what drew his heart. This was the center of his soul. This was the ocean to which all the streams of his religious affections tended. This was the object that engaged his eager thirsting desires and earnest pursuits. He knew no true excellency or happiness but this. This was what he longed for most, vehemently and constantly, on earth. And this was with him, the beauty and blessedness of heaven, which made him so much and so often to long for that world of glory. It was to be perfectly holy, and perfectly exercised in the holy employments of heaven, thus to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. His religious illuminations, affections, and comfort seemed to a great degree to be attended with evangelical humiliation, consisting in the sense of his own utter insufficiency, despicableness, and odiousness, with an answerable disposition and frame of heart.
How deeply affected was he, almost continually, with his great defects in religion, with his vast distance from that spirituality and holy frame of mind that became him, with his ignorance, pride, deadness, unsteadiness, barrenness. He was not only affected with the remembrance of his former sinfulness before his conversion, but with the sense of his present vileness and pollution. He was not only disposed to think meanly of himself as before God and in comparison of him, but amongst men and as compared with them. He was apt to think other saints better than he, yea, to look on himself as the meanest and least of saints, yea, very often as the vilest and worst of mankind. And notwithstanding his great attainments in spiritual knowledge, yet we find there is scarce anything that he is more frequently affected and abased with a sense of than his ignorance.
How eminently did he appear to be of a meek and quiet spirit, resembling the lamb-like, dove-like Spirit of Jesus Christ. How full of love, meekness, quietness, forgiveness, and mercy! His love was not merely a fondness and zeal for a party, but an universal benevolence, very often exercised in the most sensible and ardent love to his greatest opposers and enemies. His love and meekness were not a mere pretense, an outward profession and show, but they were effectual things manifested in expansive and painful deeds of love and kindness, and in a meek behavior Readily confessing faults under the greatest trials, and humbling himself even at the feet of those from whom he supposed he had suffered most.
And from time to time very frequently praying for his enemies, abhorring the thought of bitterness and resentment towards them. I scarcely know where to look for any parallel instance of self-denial, in these respects and the present age. He was a person of great zeal, but how did he abhor a bitter zeal and lament it where he saw it? And though he was once drawn into some degrees of it, by the force of prevailing example, as it were in his childhood, yet how did he go about with a heart bruised and broken in pieces for it all his life after? Of how soft and tender a spirit was he! How far were his experiences, hopes, and joys, from a tendency finally to stupefy and harden him? To lessen convictions and tenderness of conscience, to cause him to be less affected with present and past sins, and less conscientious with respect to future sins.
More easy in the neglect of duties that are troublesome and inconvenient, More slow and partial in complying with difficult commands. Less apt to be alarmed at the appearance of his own defects and transgressions, most easily induced to a compliance with carnal appetites. On the contrary, How tender was his conscience! How apt was his heart to smite him! How easily and greatly was he alarmed at the appearance of moral evil! How great and constant was his jealousy over his own heart! How strict his care and watchfulness against sin! How deep and sensible were the wounds that sin made in his conscience! Those evils that are generally accounted small were almost an insupportable burden to him. Such as his inward deficiencies, his having no more love to God, finding within himself any slackness or dullness in religion, any unsteadiness or wandering frame of mind, etc., how did the consideration of such things as these oppress and abase him, and fill him with inward shame and confusion?
His love and hope, though they were such as cast out a servile fear of hell, yet they were such as were attended with, and abundantly cherished and promoted, a reverential, filial fear of God. A dread of sin and of God's holy displeasure. His joy seemed truly to be a rejoicing with trembling. His assurance and comforts differed greatly from a false enthusiastic confidence and joy, in that it promoted and maintained mourning for sin. Holy mourning with him was not only the work of an hour or a day, at his first conversion, but sorrow for sin was like a wound constantly running. He was a mourner for sin all his days. He did not, after he received comfort and full satisfaction of the forgiveness of all his sins and the safety of his state, forget his past sins, the sins of his youth, that were committed before his conversion, but the remembrance of them from time to time revived in his heart with renewed grief.
That in Ezekiel chapter 16 verse 63 was evidently fulfilled in him. That thou mayest remember, and be confounded, and never open thy mouth any more because of thy shame, when I am pacified toward thee for all that thou hast done. And how lastingly did the sins that he committed after his conversion affect and break his heart? If he did anything whereby he thought he had in any respect dishonored God, and wounded the interest of religion, he had never done with calling it to mind with sorrow and bitterness, though he was assured that God had forgiven it. Yet he never forgave himself. His past sorrows and fears made no satisfaction with him, but still the wound renews and bleeds afresh again and again.
And his present sins that he daily found in himself were an occasion of daily sensible and deep sorrow of the heart. His religion did not consist in unaccountable flights and vehement pangs, suddenly rising and suddenly falling, at some turns exalted almost to the third heavens, and then at other turns negligent, vain, carnal, and swallowed up with the world for days and weeks, if not months, together. His religion was not like a blazing meteor or like a flaming comet. Or a wandering star, as the apostle Jude calls it, verse 13. Flying through the firmament with a bright train, and then quickly going out in perfect darkness. But more like the steady lights of heaven, that are constant principles of light, though sometimes hid with clouds.
Nor like a land flood which flows far and wide, with a rapid stream bearing down all afore it, and then dried up. But more like a stream fed by living springs, which though sometimes increased by showers and at other times diminished by drought, yet is a constant stream. His religious affections and joys were not like those of some who have rapture and mighty emotions from time to time in company, but have very little affection in retirement and secret places. Though he was of a very sociable temper and loved the company of saints and delighted very much in religious conversation and in social worship. Yet his warmest affections and their greatest effects on animal nature and his sweetest joys were in his closet devotions and solitary transactions between God and his own soul, as is very observable through his whole course, from his conversion to his death.
He delighted greatly in sacred retirements and loved to get quite away from all the world to converse with God alone in secret duties. Mr. Brainerd's experiences and comforts were very far from being like those of some persons, which are attended with a spiritual satiety, and put an end to their religious desires and longings, at least to the edge and ardency of them, resting satisfied in their own attainments and comforts, as having obtained their chief end, which is to extinguish their fears of hell, and to give them confidence of the favor of God. How far were his religious affections, refreshments, and satisfactions from such an operation and influence as this? On the contrary, how were they always attended with longings and thirstings after greater degrees of conformity to God?
And the greater and sweeter his comforts were, the more vehement were his desires after holiness. For it is to be observed that his longings were not so much after joyful discoveries of God's love and clear views of his title to future advancement and eternal honors heaven. As after more of present holiness, greater spirituality, and heart more engaged for God to love, exalt, and depend on Him, an ability better to serve Him, to do more for His glory, and to do all that He did with more of a regard to Christ as His righteousness and strength, and after the enlargement and advancement of Christ's kingdom in the earth. And his desires were not idle wishings and woodings, but such as were powerful and effectual, to animate him to the earnest, eager pursuit of these things, with utmost diligence and unfeigning labor and self-denial.
His comforts never put an end to his seeking after God and striving to obtain His grace, but on the contrary greatly engaged and enlarged Him therein. His religion did not consist only in experience without practice. All his inward illuminations, affections, and comforts seem to have a direct tendency to practice and to issue in it, and this not merely a practice negatively good, free from gross acts of irreligion and immorality, but a practice positively holy and Christian, in a serious, devout, humble, meek, merciful, charitable, and beneficent conversation. Making the service of God and our Lord Jesus Christ the great business of life, which he was devoted to and pursued with the greatest earnestness and diligence to the end of his days through all trials.
In him was to be seen the right way of being lively in religion. His liveliness in religion did not consist merely or mainly in his being lively with the tongue, but in deed, not in being forward in profession and outward show. And abundant in declaring his own experiences, but chiefly in being active and abundant in the labors and duties of religion. Not slothful in business, but fervent in spirit, serving the Lord and serving his generation according to the will of God. By these things many high pretenders to religion and professors of extraordinary spiritual experience may be sensible, that Mr. Brainerd did greatly condemn their kind of religion. And that not only in word, but by example, both living and dying, as a whole series of his Christian experience and practice, from his conversion to his death, appears a constant condemnation of it.
It cannot be objected that the reason why he so much disliked the religion of these pretenders, and why his own so much differed from it, was that his experiences were not clear. There is no room to say they were otherwise, in any respect, in which clearness of experience has been wont to be insisted on, whether it be the clearness of their nature or of their order, and the method his soul was at first brought to rest and comfort in his conversion. I am far from thinking, and so is he, that clearness of the order of experiences is, in any measure, of equal importance with the clearness of their nature. I have sufficiently declared in my discourse on religious affections, which he expressly approved of and recommended, that I do not suppose a sensible distinctness of the steps of the Spirit's operation and method of successive convictions and illuminations is a necessary requisite to persons being received in full charity as true saints, provided the nature of the things they profess to be right and their practice agreeable.
Nevertheless, it is observable. Which cuts off all objection from such as would be most unreasonably disposed to object and cavil in the present case. So it was that Mr. Brainard's experiences were not only clear in the latter respect but remarkably so in the former, so that there is not perhaps one instance in 500 true converts that on this account can be paralleled with him. It cannot be pretended that the reason why he so much abhorred and condemned the notions and experiences of those whose first faith consists in believing that Christ is theirs, and that Christ died for them, without any previous experience of union of heart to him, for his excellency as he is in himself, and not for his supposed love to them, and who judge of their interest in Christ, their justification, and God's love to them, not by their sanctification.
and the exercises and fruits of grace, but by a supposed immediate witness of the Spirit by inward suggestion. I say, it cannot be pretended that the reason why he so much detested and condemned such opinions and experiences was that he was of a too-legal spirit, either that he never was dead to the law, never experienced a thorough work of conviction, was never fully brought off from his own righteousness, and weaned from the old covenant by a thorough legal humiliation, or that afterwards he had no great degree of evangelical humiliation. Not living in a deep sense of his own emptiness, wretchedness, poverty, and absolute dependence on the mere grace of God through Christ. For his convictions of sin, preceding his first consolations in Christ, were exceedingly deep and thorough.
His trouble and exercise of mind by a sense of sin and misery very great and long continued. And the light let into his mind at his conversion and in progressive sanctification appears to have had its genuine humbling influence upon him, to have kept him low in his own eyes, not confiding in himself but in Christ, living by the faith of the Son of God and looking for the mercy of the Lord Jesus to eternal life. Nor can it be pretended. That the reason why he condemned these and other things which this sort of people call the very height of vital religion and the power of godliness was that he was a dead Christian and lived in the dark, as they expressed themselves, that his experiences, though they might be true, were not great, that he did not live near to God, had but a small acquaintance with him, and had but a dim sight of spiritual things.
If any, after they have read the preceding account of Mr. Brainard's life, will venture to pretend thus, they will only show that they themselves are in the dark, and do indeed put darkness for light and light for darkness. This history of Mr. Brainard may help us to make distinctions among the religious affections and remarkable impressions made on the minds of persons in a time of great awakening and revival of religion. It may convince us that there are not only distinctions in theory, invented to save the credit of pretended revivals of religion and what is called the experience of the operations of the spirit, but distinctions that do actually take place in the course of events and have a real and evident foundation in fact.
Not only do the opposers of all religion, consisting in powerful operations and affections, thus confound things, but many of the pretenders to such religion do so. They that have been the subjects of some sort of vehement but vain operations on their mind, when they hear the relation of the experiences of some real and eminent Christians, they say their experiences are of the same sort, so they say they are just like the experiences of eminent Christians in former times, which we have printed accounts of. So I doubt not, but there are many deluded people, if they should read the preceding account of Mr. Brainerd's life, who, reading without much understanding or careful observation, would say, without hesitation, that some things which they have met with are of the very same kind with what he expresses, when the agreement is only in some general circumstances, or some particular things that are superficial, and belonging as it were to the profession and outside of religion.
But the inward temper of mind and the fruits in practice are as opposite and distant as East and West. Many honest good people also, and true Christians, do not very well know how to make a difference. The glittering appearance and glaring show of false religion dazzles their eyes, and they sometimes are so deluded by it that they look on some of these impressions, which hypocrites tell of, as the brightest experiences. And though they have experienced no such things themselves, they think it is because they are vastly lower in attainments, and but babes, in comparison of these flaming Christians. Yea, sometimes, from their differing so much from those who make so great a show, they doubt whether they have any grace at all.
And it is a hard thing to bring many well-meaning people to make proper distinctions in this case, and especially to maintain and stand by them through a certain weakness they unhappily labor of, whereby they are liable to be overcome with the glare of outward appearance. Thus, if in a sedate hour they are, by reasoning, brought to allow such and such distinctions, yet the next time they come in the way of the great show of false religion, the dazzling appearance swallows them up, and they are carried away. Thus the devil, by his cunning artifices, easily dazzles the feeble sight of men and puts them beyond a capacity of a proper exercise of consideration or hearkening to the dictates of calm thought and cool understanding.
When they perceive the great affection, earnest talk, strong voice, assured looks, vast confidence, and bold assertions of these empty assuming pretenders, they are overborne, lose the possession of their judgment, and say, Surely these men are in the right. God is with them of a truth. And so they are carried away, not with light and reason, but, like children, as it were, with a strong wind. This confounding all things together that have a fair show is but acting the part of a child that going into a shop where a variety of wares are exposed for sale. All of a shining appearance, some vessels of gold and silver, and some diamonds and other precious stones, and other things that are toys of little value, which are of some base metal gilt or glass polished, and painted with curious colors, or cut like diamonds, should esteem all alike, and give as great a price for the vile as for the precious.
Or it is like the conduct of some unskillful, rash person who, finding himself deceived by some of the wares he had bought at that shop, Should at once conclude all he there saw was of no value, and pursuant to such a conclusion, when afterwards he has true gold and diamonds offered him, enough to enrich him and enable him to live like a prince all his days, he should throw it all into the sea. But we must get into another way. The want of distinguishing in things that appertain to experimental religion is one of the chief miseries of the professing world. It is attended with very many, most dismal consequences. Multitudes of souls are fatally deluded about themselves and their own state, and so are eternally undone.
Hypocrites are confirmed in their delusions and exceedingly puffed up with pride. Many sincere Christians are dreadfully perplexed, darkened, tempted, and drawn aside from the way of duty. And sometimes sadly tainted with false religion, to the great dishonor of Christianity, and hurt of their own souls. Some of the most dangerous and pernicious enemies of religion in the world, though they are called bright Christians, are encouraged and honored, who ought to be discountenanced and shunned by everybody, and prejudices are begotten and confirmed in vast multitudes against everything wherein the power and essence of godliness consists, and in the end deism and atheism are promoted. The foregoing account of Mr.
Brainard's life may afford matter of conviction that there is indeed such a thing as true experimental religion arising from immediate divine influences, supernaturally enlightening and convincing the mind, and powerfully impressing, quickening, sanctifying, and governing the heart, which religion is indeed an amiable thing of happy tendency. And of no hurtful consequence to human society. Notwithstanding, there having been so many pretenses and appearances of what is called experimental, vital religion, that have proved to be nothing but vain, pernicious enthusiasm. If any insists that Mr. Brainerd's religion was enthusiasm, and nothing but a strange heat and blind fervor of mind, arising from the strong fancies and dreams of a notional, whimsical brain, I would ask, if it be so, that such things as these are the fruits of enthusiasm, viz., a great degree of honesty and simplicity, sincere and earnest desires and endeavors to know and do whatever is right, and to avoid everything that is wrong, and high degree of love to God, Delight in the perfections of His nature, placing the happiness of life in Him, not only in contemplating Him, but in being active in pleasing and serving Him.
A firm and undoubting belief in the Messiah as the Savior of the world, the great prophet of God and King of God's Church, together with great love to Him, delight in complacence in the way of salvation by Him, and longing for the enlargement of His kingdom. Earnest desires that God may be glorified and the Messiah's kingdom advanced, whatever instruments are made use of. Uncommon resignation to the will of God and that under vast trials. Great and universal benevolence to mankind, reaching all sorts of persons without distinction. Manifested in sweetness of speech and behavior, kind treatment, mercy, liberality, and earnest seeking the good of the souls and bodies of men. Attended with extraordinary humility, meekness, forgiveness of injuries and love to enemies, and a great abhorrence of a contrary spirit and practice.
Not only as appearing in others, but wherein soever it had appeared in himself, causing the most bitter repentance and brokenness of heart on account of any past instances of such a conduct. A modest, discrete, and decent deportment among superiors, inferiors, and equals. A most diligent improvement of time, and earnest care to lose no part of it. Great watchfulness against all sorts of sin, of heart, speech, and action. And this example and these endeavors attended with most happy fruits and blessed effects on others, inhumanizing, civilizing, and wonderfully reforming and transforming some of the most brutish savages—idle, immoral, drunkards, murderers, gross idolaters, and wizards—bringing them to permanent sobriety, diligence, devotion, honesty, conscientiousness, and charity.
And the foregoing amiable virtues and successful labors all ending at last in a marvelous peace, unmovable stability, calmness, and resignation, in the sensible approaches of death, with longing for the heavenly state, not only for the honors and circumstantial advantages of it, but above all for the moral perfection and holy and blessed employments of it. And these things, in a person indisputably of good understanding and judgment, I say, if all these things are the fruits of enthusiasm, why should not enthusiasm be thought a desirable and excellent thing? For what can true religion, what can the best philosophy do more? If vapors and whimsy will bring men to the most thorough virtue, to the most benign and fruitful morality, and will maintain it through a course of life, attended with many trials, without affectation or self-exaltation, And with an honest, constant bearing testimony against the wildness, the extravagances, the bitter zeal, assuming behavior, and separating spirit of enthusiasts, and will do all this the more effectually than anything else has ever done in any plain known instance that can be produced, if it be so, I say, what cause then has the world to prize and pray for this blessed whimsicalness and these benign sort of vapors?
The preceding history serves to confirm those doctrines usually called the doctrines of grace. For if it be allowed that there is truth, substance, or value in the mane of Mr. Brainerd's religion, it will undoubtedly follow that those doctrines are divine, since it is evident that the whole of it, from beginning to end, is according to that scheme of things, all built on those apprehensions, notions, and views that are produced and established in the mind by those doctrines. He was brought, by doctrines of this kind, to his awakening, and deep concern about things of a spiritual and eternal nature. And by these doctrines his convictions were maintained and carried on, and his conversion was evidently altogether agreeable to this scheme, but by no means agreeing with the contrary, and utterly inconsistent with the Arminian notion of conversion or repentance.
His conversion was plainly founded in a clear, strong conviction and undoubting persuasion of the truth of those things appertaining to these doctrines, which Arminians most object against, and which his own mind had contended most about. And his conversion was so confirming and perfecting of moral principles and habits by use and practice, and his own labor in an industrious disciplining himself, together with the concurring suggestions and conspiring aids of God's Spirit, but entirely a supernatural work, at once turning him from darkness to marvelous light, from the power of sin to the dominion of divine and holy principles. An effect in no regard produced by his strength or labor, or obtained by his virtue, and not accomplished till he was first brought to a full conviction, that all his own virtue, strengths, labors, and endeavors could never avail anything to the producing or procuring this effect.
A very little while before, his mind was full of the same cavils against the doctrines of God's sovereign grace which are made by Arminians, and his heart even full of a raging opposition to them. And God was pleased to perform this good work in him just after a full end had been put to this cavilling and opposition, after he was entirely convinced that he was dead in sin and was in the hands of God as the absolute sovereign, unobliged, sole disposer, and author of true holiness. God's showing him mercy at such a time is a confirmation that this was a preparation for mercy, and consequently that these things which he was convinced of were true. While he opposed these things, he was the subject of no such mercy, though he so earnestly sought it and prayed for it with so much painfulness, care, and strictness in religion.
But when once his opposition is fully subdued, and he is brought to submit to the truths which he before had opposed with full conviction, then the mercy he sought for is granted with abundant light, great evidence, and exceeding joy, and he reaps the sweet fruit of it all his life after, and in the valley of the shadow of death. In his conversion he was brought to see the glory of that way of salvation by Christ that is taught in what are called the doctrines of grace, and thenceforward with unspeakable joy and complacence to embrace and acquiesce in that way of salvation. He was in his conversation in all respects brought to those views and that state of mind which these doctrines show to be necessary.
And if his conversion was any real conversion, or anything besides a mere whim, and if the religion of his life was anything else but a series of freaks of whimsical mind, then this one grand principle, on which depends the whole difference between Calvinists and Arminians, is undeniable, viz. that the grace or virtue of truly great men not only differs from the virtue of others in degree, but even in nature and kind. If ever Mr. Brainerd was truly turned from sin to God at all, or ever became truly religious, none can reasonably doubt but that his conversion was at the time when he supposed it to be. The change he then experienced was evidently the greatest moral change that ever he passed under, and he was then apparently first brought to that kind of religion, that remarkably new habit and temper of mind which he held all his life after.
The narration shows it to be different in nature and kind from all that he ever was the subject of before. It was evidently wrought at once without fitting and preparing his mind, by gradually convincing it more and more of the same truths, and bringing it nearer and nearer to such a temper. For it was soon after his mind had been remarkably full of blasphemy, and a vehement exercise of sensible enmity against God, and great opposition to those truths, which he was now brought with his whole soul to embrace and rest in as divine and glorious, and to place his happiness in the contemplation and improvement of. And he himself, who was surely best able to judge, declares that the dispositions and affections which were then given him, and thenceforward maintained in him, were most sensibly and certainly perfectly different in their nature from all that ever he was the subject of before, or that he had ever any conception of.
This he ever stood to, and was preemptory in, as what he certainly knew, even to his death. He must be looked upon as capable of judging. He had opportunity to know. He had practiced a great deal of religion before, was exceedingly strict and conscientious, and had continued so for a long time, had various religious affections with which he often flattered himself, and sometimes pleased himself as being now in a good estate. And after he had those new experiences that began in his conversion, they were continued to the end of his life, long enough for him thoroughly to observe their nature and compare them with what had been before. Doubtless he was Compos Mentis, and was at least one of so good an understanding and judgment as to be pretty well capable of discerning and comparing the things that passed in his own mind.
It is further observable that his religion all along operated in such a manner as tended to confirm his mind in the doctrines of God's absolute sovereignty, man's universal and entire dependence on God's power and grace, etc. The more his religion prevailed in his heart, and the fuller he was of divine love and of clear and delightful views of spiritual things, and the more his heart was engaged in God's service, the more sensible he was of the certainty and excellency and importance of these truths. And the more he was affected with them and rejoiced in them. And he declares particularly that when he lay for a long while on the verge of the eternal world, often expecting to be in that world in a few minutes, yet at the same time enjoying great serenity of mind and clearness of thought, and being most apparently in a peculiar manner at a distance from an enthusiastical frame.
He, at that time, saw clearly the truth of those great doctrines of the Gospel, which are just styled the doctrines of grace, and never felt himself so capable of demonstrating the truth of them. So that it was very evident Mr. Brainard's religion was wholly correspondents to what is called the Calvinistical scheme, and was the effect of those doctrines applied to his heart, and certainly it cannot be denied that the effect was good unless we turn atheists or deists. I would ask whether there be any such things in reality as Christian devotion. If there be, what is it? What is its nature? And what its just measure? Should it not be in a great degree? We read abundantly in Scripture of loving God with all the heart, with all the soul, with all the mind, with all the strength, of delighting in God, of rejoicing in the Lord, rejoicing with joy unspeakable and full of glory, the souls magnifying the Lord, thirsting for God.
Hungering and thirsting after righteousness, the souls breaking for the longing it hath to God's judgments, praying to God with groanings that cannot be uttered, mourning for sin with a broken heart and contrite spirit, etc. How full is the Book of Psalms! Now wherein do these things, as expressed by and appearing in Mr. Brainerd, either the things themselves or their effects and fruits differ from the scripture representations? These things he was brought to by that strange and wonderful transformation of the man, which he called his conversion. And does not this well agree with what is so often said in the Old Testament and New, concerning the giving of a new heart, creating a right spirit, a being renewed in the spirit of the mind, a being sanctified throughout, becoming a new creature, etc.?
Now where is there to be found an Arminian conversion or repentance, consisting in so great and admirable a change? Can the Arminians produce an instance within this age, and so plainly within our reach and view, of such a reformation, such a transformation of a man, to scriptural devotion, heavenly-mindedness, and true Christian morality, in one that before lived without these things, on the foot of their principles and through the influence of their doctrines? And here is worthy to be considered not only the effect of Calvinistical doctrines, as they are called, on Mr. Brainerd himself, but also the effect of the same doctrines as taught and inculcated by him on others. It is abundantly pretended and asserted of late that these doctrines tend to undermine the very foundations of all religion and morality, and to enervate and vacate all reasonable motives to the exercise and practice of them.
And lay invincible, stumbling blocks before infidels to hinder their embracing Christianity, and that the contrary doctrines are the fruitful principles of virtue and goodness, set religion on its right basis, represent it in an amiable light, give its motives their full force, and recommend it to the reason and common sense of mankind. But where can they find an instance of so great and signal and effect of their doctrines in bringing infidels who were at such a distance from all that is civil, human, sober, rational, and Christian, and so full of inveterate prejudices against these things, to such a degree of humanity, civility, exercise of reason, self-denial, and Christian virtue? Arminians place religion in morality.
Let them bring an instance of their doctrines producing such a transformation of a people in point of morality. It is strange. If the all-wise God so orders things in his providence, that reasonable and proper means, and his own means, which he himself has appointed, should in no known remarkable instance be instrumental to produce so good an effect, an effect so agreeable to his own word and mind, and that very effect for which he appointed these excellent means, that they should not be so successful as those means which are not his own but very contrary to them, and of a contrary tendency. Means that are in themselves very absurd and tend to root all religion and virtue out of the world, to promote and establish infidelity, and to lay an insuperable stumbling block before pagans to hinder their embracing the gospel.
I say, if this be the true state of the case, it is certainly wonderful, and an event worthy of some attention. Is there not much in the preceding memoirs of Mr. Brainerd to teach and excite to duty us who are called to the work of the ministering, and all that are candidates for that great work? What a deep sense did he seem to have of the greatness and importance of that work, and with what weight did it lie on his mind? How sensible was he of his own insufficiency for this work, and how great was his dependence on God's sufficiency. How solicitous that he might be fitted for it! And to this end, how much time did he spend in prayer and fasting, as well as reading and meditation, giving himself to these things?
How did he dedicate his whole life, all his powers and talents, to God, and forsake and renounce the world, with all its pleasing and ensnaring enjoyments, that he might be wholly at liberty to serve Christ in this work, and to please him who had chosen him to be a soldier under the captain of our salvation? With what solicitude, solemnity, and diligence did he devote himself to God our Savior, and seek his presence and blessing in secret, at the time of his ordination? And how did his whole heart appear to be constantly engaged, his whole time employed, and his whole strength spent in the business he then solemnly undertook and was publicly set apart to? And his history shows us the right way to success in the work of the ministry.
He sought it, as a resolute soldier seeks victory in a siege or battle. Or as a man that runs a race for a great prize. Animated with love to Christ and souls, how did he labor always fervently, not only in word and doctrine, in public and private, but in prayers day and night, wrestling with God in secret? How did he thirst for a blessing on his ministry, and watch for souls as one that must give an account? How did he go forth in the strength of the Lord God, seeking and depending on a special influence of the Spirit to assist and succeed him? And what was the happy fruit at last, though after long waitings and many dark and discouraging appearances? Like a true son of Jacob, he persevered in wrestling through all the darkness of the night until the breaking of the day.
And his example of laboring, praying, denying himself, and enduring hardness with unfeigning resolution and patience, and his faithful, vigilant, and prudent conduct in many other respects, which it would be too long now particularly to recite, may afford instruction to missionaries in particular. There is much in the preceding account to excite and encourage God's people to earnest prayers and endeavors for the advancement and enlargement of the kingdom of Christ in the world. Mr. Brainerd set us an excellent example in this respect. He sought the prosperity of Zion with all his might. He preferred Jerusalem above his chief joy. How did his soul long for it and pant after it? And how earnestly and often did he wrestle with God for it?
And how far did he, in these desires and prayers, seem to be carried beyond all private and selfish views, being animated by a pure love to Christ, an earnest desire of His glory, and a disinterested affection to the souls of mankind? The consideration of this not only ought to be an incitement to the people of God, but may also be a just encouragement to them, to be much in seeking and praying for a general outpouring of the Spirit of God and extensive revival of religion. I confess that God's giving so much of a spirit of prayer for this mercy to so eminent a servant of His, and exciting Him in so extraordinary a manner, and with such vehement thirstings of soul, to agonize in prayer for it from time to time.
One such instance as this, I conceive, gives more encouragement than the common, cold, formal prayers of thousands. As Mr. Brainerd's desires and prayers for the coming of Christ's kingdom were very special and extraordinary, so, I think, we may reasonably hope, That the God who excited those desires and prayers will answer them with something special and extraordinary. And in a particular manner, do I think it worthy to be taken notice of for our encouragement that He had His heart, as He declared, unusually and beyond what had been before, drawn out in longings and prayers for the flourishing of Christ's kingdom on earth, when He was in the approaches of death, and that with His dying breath He did, as it were, breathe out His departing soul into the bosom of His Redeemer.
In prayers and pantings after this glorious event, expiring in a very great hope that it would soon begin to be fulfilled. And I wish that the thoughts which he in his dying state expressed of that explicit agreement and visible union of God's people and extraordinary prayer for a general revival of religion, lately proposed in a memorial from Scotland, which has been dispersed among us, may be well considered by those that hitherto have not seen fit to fall in with that proposal. But I forbear to say any more on this head, having already largely published my thoughts upon it, in a discourse written on purpose to promote that affair, which I confess I wish that every one of my readers might be supplied with, not that my honor, but that this excellent design might be promoted.
One more thing may not be unprofitably observed in the preceding account of Mr. Brainerd, and that is the special and remarkable disposal of divine providence with regard to the circumstances of his last sickness and death. Though he had long been infirm, his constitution being much broken by his fatigues and hardships, and though he was often brought very low by illness, before he left Conamique, and also while he lived at the Forks of Delaware, yet his life was preserved till he had seen that which he had so long and greatly desired and sought, a glorious work of grace among the Indians, and had received the wish for blessing of God on his labors. Though, as it were, in deaths oft, Yet he lived to behold the happy fruits of the long-continued travail of his soul and labor of his body, in the wonderful conversion of many of the heathen, and the happy effect of it in the great change of their conversation with many circumstances which afford a fair prospect of the continuance of God's blessing upon them, as may appear by what I shall presently further observe.
Thus he did not depart till his eyes had seen God's salvation. Though it was the pleasure of God that he should be taken off from his labors among that people whom God had made him a spiritual father to, who were so dear to him, and whose spiritual welfare he was so greatly concerned for, yet this was not before they were well initiated and instructed in the Christian religion, thoroughly weaned from their old heathenish and brutish notions and practices, and all their prejudices, which tended to keep their minds unsettled, were fully removed. And they were confirmed and fixed in the Christian faith and manners, were formed into a church, had ecclesiastical ordinances and discipline introduced and settled, were brought into a good way with respect to the education of children, had a schoolmaster sent to them in Providence, excellently qualified for the business, and had a school set up and established in good order among them, had been well brought off from their former idol-strolling, sattish way of living, had removed from their former scattered uncertain habitations, and were collected in a town by themselves on a good piece of land of their own, were introduced into the way of living by husbandry, and begun to experience the benefits of it.
These things were but just brought to pass by his indefatigable application and care, and then he was taken off from his work by illness. If this had been but a little sooner, they would not have been so well prepared for such a dispensation, and it probably would have been unspeakably more to the hurt of their spiritual interest and of the cause of Christianity among them. The time and circumstances of his illness were so ordered that he had just opportunity to finish his journal and prepare it for the press, giving an account of the marvelous display of divine power and grace among the Indians in New Jersey and at the Forks of Delaware. His doing which was a thing of great consequence, and therefore urged upon him by the correspondents, who have honored his journal with a preface.
The world being particularly and justly informed of that affair by Mr. Brainerd before his death, a foundation was hereby laid for a concern in others for that cause, and proper care and measures to be taken for maintaining it after his death. As it has actually proved to be of great influence and benefit in this respect, it having excited and engaged many in those parts, and also more distant parts of America, to exert themselves for the upholding and promoting so good and glorious a work, remarkably opening their hearts and hands to that end, and not only in America but in Great Britain, were that journal. Which is the same that I have earnestly recommended to my readers to possess themselves of, has been an occasion of some large benefactions made for the promoting the interest of Christianity among the Indians.
If Mr. Brainerd had been taken ill but a little sooner, he had not been able to complete his journal and prepare a copy for the press. He was not taken off from the work of the ministry among his people to his brother was in a capacity and circumstances to succeed him in his care of them. Who succeeds him? In the like spirit, and under whose prudent and faithful care his congregation has flourished and been very happy since he left them, and probably could not have been so well provided for otherwise. If Mr. Brainerd had been disabled sooner, his brother would by no means have been ready to stand up in his place, having taken his first degree at college, but about that very time that he was seized with his fatal consumption.
Though in that winter that he lay sick at Mr. Dickinson's in Elizabethtown, he continued for a long time in an extremely low state, so that his life was almost despaired of, and his state was sometimes such that it was hardly expected he would live a day to an end, yet his life was spared a while longer. He lived to see his brother arrived in New Jersey, being come to succeed him in the care of his Indians, and he himself had opportunity to assist in his examination and introduction into his business. and to commit the conduct of his dear people to one whom he well knew and could put confidence in, and to use freedom within giving him particular instructions and charges, and under whose care he could leave his congregation with great cheerfulness.
The providence of God was remarkable in so ordering of it that before his death he should take a journey into New England and go to Boston, which was in many respects a very great and happy consequence to the interest of religion, and especially among his own people. By this means, as has been observed, he was brought into acquaintance with many persons of note and influence, ministers and others, belonging both to town and various parts of the country, and had opportunity, under the best advantages, to bear a testimony for God and true religion, and against those false appearances of it that have proved most pernicious to the interests of Christ's kingdom in the land. And the providence of God is particularly observable in this circumstance of the testimony he there bore for true religion, viz.
that he was there brought so near the grave, and continued for so long a time on the very brink of eternity, and from time to time looked on himself and was looked on by others as just leaving the world. And that, in these circumstances, he should be so particularly directed and assisted in his thoughts and views of religion to distinguish between the true and false, with such clearness and evidence, and that after this he should be unexpectedly and surprisingly restored and strengthened, so far as to be able to converse freely and have such opportunity and special occasions to declare the sentiments he had in these, which were, to human apprehension, his dying circumstances. And to bear his testimony concerning the nature of true religion and concerning the mischievous tendency of its most prevalent counterfeits and false appearances, as things he had a special, clear, distinct view of at that time, when he expected in a few minutes to be an eternity, and the certainty and importance of which were then, in a peculiar manner, impressed on his mind.
Among the happy consequences of his going to Boston were those liberal benefactions that have been mentioned, which were made by piously disposed persons for maintaining and promoting the interest of religion among his people, and also the meeting of a number of gentlemen in Boston of note and ability to consult upon measures for that purpose. Who were excited by their acquaintance and conversations with Mr. Brainerd, and by the account of the great things God had wrought by His ministry, to unite themselves, that by their joint endeavors and contributions they might promote the kingdom of Christ. It was also remarkable that Mr. Brown should go to Boston at that time after the honorable commissioners there of the Corporation in London.
for propagating the gospel of New England and parts adjacent, had received Dr. Williams's legacy for the maintaining of two missionaries among the heathen, and at a time when they, having concluded on a mission to the Indians of the Six Nations, so-called, We're looking out for fit persons to be employed in that important service. This proved an occasion of their committing to him the affair of finding and recommending suitable persons, which has proved a successful means of two persons being found and actually appointed to that business, who seem to be well-qualified for it and to have their hearts greatly engaged in it, one of which has been solemnly ordained to that work in Boston and has now gone forth to one of those tribes, who have appeared well-disposed to his reception.
It being judged not convenient for the other to go till the next spring by reason of his bodily infirmity. These happy consequences of Mr. Brainard's journey to Boston would have been prevented, in case he had died, when he was brought so near to death in New Jersey, or if after he came first to Northampton, where he was very much at a loss, and long deliberating which way to bend his course, he had determined not to go to Boston. The providence of God was observable in his going to Boston at a time when not only the honorable commissioners were seeking missionaries to the Six Nations, but just after his journal, which gives an account of his labors and success among the Indians, had been received and spread in Boston, whereby his name was known, and the minds of serious people were well prepared to receive his person, and the testimony he there gave for God to exert themselves for the upholding and promoting the interest of religion in his congregation and amongst the Indians elsewhere.
And to regard his judgment concerning the qualifications of missionaries, etc. If he had gone there the fall before, when he had intended to have made his journey into New England, but was prevented by a sudden great increase of his illness, it would not have been likely to have been in any measure to so good effect. And also, if it, he had not been unexpectedly detained in Boston. For when he went from my house, he intended to make but a very short stay there. But divine providence, by his being brought so low there, detained him long, thereby to make way for the fulfilling its own gracious designs. The providence of God was remarkable in so ordering, that although he was brought so very near the grave in Boston, that it was not in the least expected he would ever come alive out of his chamber.
Yet he wonderfully revived and was preserved several months longer, so that he had opportunity to see and fully converse with both his younger brethren before he died, which was a thing he greatly desired, and especially to see his brother John, with whom was left the care of his congregation, that he might by him be fully informed of their state, and might leave with him such instructions and directions as were requisite in order to their spiritual welfare, and to send them his dying charges and counsels. And he had also opportunity, by means of this suspension of his death, to find and recommend a couple of persons fit to be employed as missionaries to the Six Nations, as had been desired of him.
Thus, although it was the pleasure of a sovereign God that he should be taken away from his congregation, the people that he had begotten through the gospel, who were so dear to him. Yet it was granted to him that before he died he should see them well provided for every way. He saw them provided for with one to instruct them and to take care of their souls, his own brother whom he could confide in, those things that before were wanting in order to it being supplied. And he had the prospect of a charitable society being established, of able and well-disposed persons who seemed to make the spiritual interest of his congregation their own, whereby he had a comfortable view of their being well provided for for the future.
And he had also opportunity to leave all his dying charges with his successor in the pastoral care of his people, and by him to send his dying counsels to them. Thus God granted him to see all things happily settled, or in a hopeful way of being so, before his death with respect to his dear people. And whereas not only his own congregation, but the souls of the Indians in North America in general, were very dear to him, and he had greatly set his heart on the propagating and extending the kingdom of Christ among them, God was pleased to grant to him, however it was his will, that he should be taken away, and so should not be the immediate instrument of their instruction and conversion, yet that before his death he should see unexpected extraordinary provision made for this also.
And it is remarkable that God not only allowed him to see such provision made for the maintaining the interest of religion among his own people, and the propagation of it elsewhere, but honored him by making him the means or occasion of it, so that it is Very probable, however, Mr. Brainerd during the last four months of his life was extraordinarily in an extremely weak and low state, very often scarcely able to speak, yet that he was made the instrument or means of much more good in that space of time than he would have been if he had been well and in full strength of body. Thus God's power was manifested in his weakness, and the life of Christ was manifested in his mortal flesh. Another thing wherein appears the merciful disposal of Providence with respect to his death was that he did not die in the wilderness among the savages at Conamique or the Forks of Delaware or at Susquehanna, but in a place where his dying behavior and speeches might be observed and remembered, and some accounts given of them for the benefit of survivors, and also where care might be taken of him in his sickness and proper honors done him at his death.
If these circumstances of Mr. Brainerd's death be duly considered, I doubt not, but they will be acknowledged as a notable instance of God's fatherly care and covenant faithfulness towards them that are devoted to Him, and faithfully serve Him while they live, whereby He never fails nor forsakes them, but is with them living and dying, so that whether they live, they live to the Lord, or whether they die, they die to the Lord. And both in the life and death they are owned and taken care of as his. Mr. Brainerd himself, as was before observed, was much in taking notice, when near his end, of the merciful circumstances of his death, and said from time to time that God had granted him all his desire.
End of the Appendix. End of the Life of David Brainerd by John Stiles.