[Illustration: Eng. by A. R. Ritchie.
yours affectionately
Henry Boehm
b. June 8, 1775--d. 1875.]
THE
PATRIARCH OF ONE HUNDRED YEARS;
BEING
REMINISCENCES,
HISTORICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL,
OF
REV. HENRY BOEHM.
BY REV. J. B. WAKELEY, D.D.
[Illustration]
With several additional chapters, containing an Account of the
Exercises on his One Hundredth Birthday; his Sermon
before the Newark Conference and the Addresses then
delivered; his Centennial Sermons in Trinity
Church, Jersey City, and in John-street
Church, New York, and
The Addresses made on
those occasions,
PHONOGRAPHICALLY REPORTED.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK:
NELSON & PHILLIPS.
CINCINNATI: HITCHCOCK & WALDEN.
1875.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by
CARLTON & PORTER,
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Southern District of New York.
TO
THOMAS A. MORRIS, D.D.,
AND
HIS COLLEAGUES,
THE
BISHOPS OF THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH,
THE
WORTHY SUCCESSORS OF THE APOSTOLIC ASBURY,
IS
THIS VOLUME
MOST AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED
BY
HENRY BOEHM.
PREFACE.
For many years, and by many persons, including bishops, editors, and
others, I have been importuned to publish the substance of my records
and recollections of the Methodism of my day. It was judged that my
great age, my intimate relations with Bishop Asbury, and my acquaintance
with other pioneers and fathers of the Church, would enable me thus
to preserve much desirable information which would otherwise soon be
forgotten.
In 1847 the New Jersey Conference took action on the subject, and
appointed a committee to confer with me in respect to my journals and
other papers, and aid in preparing them for publication. The committee
was a very competent one, but the members were too widely separated for
any effectual result. I had concluded to abandon the design, and this
volume would probably never have seen the light had not the Rev. J. B.
Wakeley come to my help.
For the materials of the work I had a manuscript journal of two thousand
pages. This we went over together, reviewing all my fields of labor, and
drawing additional particulars from the storehouse of memory, Brother
Wakeley performing the work of transcribing, arranging, and revising.
Thus the journal furnished the warp and recollection the filling of
what is before the reader in the shape of a book. In this way we were
employed, at different times, during a period of twelve years, so that if
the work has been poorly done it has not been through undue haste or the
sparing of labor or pains.
Next year is the centenary of American Methodism, and this volume is a
connecting link between the present and the origin of our Church, for
I have heard Robert Strawbridge, who laid the foundation of Methodism
in Maryland nearly a hundred years ago. From it the reader may get a
good idea of primitive Methodism, and learn how our fathers toiled and
“endured hardness as good soldiers,” and some, I trust, will catch their
spirit of labor and self-denial for Christ and the Church.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. MY ANCESTORS AND MY EARLY DAYS 9
II. SKETCHES OF EARLY PREACHERS 19
III. BOEHM’S CHAPEL 30
IV. GENERAL CONFERENCE OF 1800 35
V. PHILADELPHIA CONFERENCE—GREAT REVIVALS—BARRATT’S CHAPEL 44
VI. MY FIRST CIRCUIT, DORCHESTER 57
VII. MY SECOND CIRCUIT, ANNAMESSEX, 1802 65
VIII. KENT, BRISTOL, AND NORTHAMPTON CIRCUITS 75
IX. PHILADELPHIA CONFERENCE, 1803—BRISTOL CIRCUIT 88
X. SHORT TOUR WITH BISHOP ASBURY, 1803 100
XI. DAUPHIN CIRCUIT, 1803-4 106
XII. BALTIMORE AND PHILADELPHIA CONFERENCES, 1805—ST. MARTIN’S
CIRCUIT 118
XIII. FIRST CAMP-MEETING ON THE PENINSULA, 1805 128
XIV. DOVER CIRCUIT, 1806—SICKNESS AND DEATH OF BISHOP WHATCOAT 137
XV. DOVER CIRCUIT—GREAT CAMP-MEETINGS 147
XVI. MISSIONARIES, 1807 161
XVII. DOCTOR ROMER AND THE GERMAN METHODIST DISCIPLINE 173
XVIII. GENERAL CONFERENCE OF 1808 180
XIX. FIRST ANNUAL TOUR WITH BISHOP ASBURY, 1808 186
XX. FIRST VISIT TO THE SOUTH 209
XXI. NORTHERN TOUR—VIRGINIA AND BALTIMORE CONFERENCES 220
XXII. FIRST VISIT TO NEW YORK CITY—NEW YORK AND NEW ENGLAND
CONFERENCES 234
XXIII. SECOND ANNUAL TOUR—WESTERN AND SOUTHERN CONFERENCES 254
XXIV. TOUR TO VIRGINIA, BALTIMORE, AND PHILADELPHIA CONFERENCES 273
XXV. NEW ENGLAND AND GENESEE CONFERENCES OF 1810 289
XXVI. ANNUAL TOUR, 1810—WESTERN CONFERENCE 310
XXVII. TOUR TO SOUTH CAROLINA CONFERENCE 322
XXVIII. VIRGINIA, BALTIMORE, PHILADELPHIA, AND NEW ENGLAND
CONFERENCES 333
XXIX. BISHOP ASBURY’S FIRST VISIT TO CANADA 348
XXX. FOURTH WESTERN AND SOUTHERN TOUR—CONFERENCES OF 1811 363
XXXI. DEATH, FUNERAL, AND CHARACTER OF REV. MARTIN BOEHM 372
XXXII. THE UNITED BRETHREN IN CHRIST—SKETCH OF OTTERBEIN, ETC. 387
XXXIII. PHILADELPHIA AND GENERAL CONFERENCE OF 1812 394
XXXIV. NEW YORK, NEW ENGLAND, AND GENESEE CONFERENCES 399
XXXV. MY LAST TOUR WITH BISHOP ASBURY 405
XXXVI. SCHUYLKILL DISTRICT, 1813-14 416
XXXVII. CHESAPEAKE DISTRICT—GOVERNOR BASSETT’S DEATH AND CHARACTER 424
XXXVIII. GENERAL CONFERENCE—ASBURY’S FUNERAL, ETC. 430
XXXIX. BISHOP ASBURY—CHARACTER AND HABITS 438
XL. DEATH OF JESSE LEE—HIS CHARACTER 460
XLI. CHESAPEAKE DISTRICT—TOURS WITH BISHOPS GEORGE AND
M’KENDREE 466
XLII. DELAWARE DISTRICT, 1819-21—THOMAS AND EDWARD WHITE—JOSHUA
THOMAS—CIRCUITS 472
XLIII. LAST VISIT TO MY NATIVE PLACE—WESTERN TOUR 481
REMINISCENCES OF REV. HENRY BOEHM.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I.
MY ANCESTORS AND MY EARLY DAYS.
My forefathers were from Switzerland. There is romance in their
history as well as in the land of their birth. Jacob Boehm, my
great-great-grandfather, was a Presbyterian. His son Jacob learned
a trade. It was a custom in Switzerland for all who completed their
apprenticeship to travel three years through the country as itinerant
journeymen. The design was to make them finished workmen; and no man
could enter into business for himself, no matter how well qualified,
until he pursued this course.
In his wanderings Jacob fell in with a people called _Pietists_. In
many respects they resembled the Puritans. He was converted among them.
The change was so great when he returned home, his language so strange,
that his friends could not understand him. “The natural man receiveth
not the things of the Spirit of God.” His singular experience, his
exposure of formal religion, his boldness in reproving sin, raised a
storm of persecution. The minister withstood him, and denounced him as a
heretic. His answers were so pertinent that his father gave him a severe
reprimand, inquiring, “Boy, do you answer a minister in that way?” The
Church exercised civil as well as ecclesiastical authority, and young
Boehm was convicted of heresy, and sentenced to prison. An elder brother
was appointed to conduct him to the prison-house. He did not watch his
brother very closely, and as they were near the line that separated
Switzerland from France the prisoner crossed over, and was forever free
from his domestic and priestly persecutors.
He journeyed along the banks of the Rhine till he entered the Dukedom of
Pfaltz. This was the Palatinate bordering on Belgium. From this region
were the ancestors of Philip Embury. There young Jacob became acquainted
with a people called Mennonites. They took their name from Menno Simon,
who was cotemporary with Luther. They were a simple-hearted people, and
he united with them, and became a lay elder. He had several children,
of whom Jacob, the third, was my grandfather. He was born in 1693, and
emigrated to this country in 1715. Many of the Mennonites emigrated from
Switzerland and Germany.
My grandfather was induced to come to America from the glowing
description given of this country by Martin Kendig, one of the seven
families who had settled in what is now Lancaster County, Pa. He landed
in Philadelphia, from thence went to Germantown, then to Lancaster, and
finally settled in Pequea, Conestoga Township. Soon afterward he married
a Miss Kendig. My grandfather was a lay elder in the Mennonite Society.
Soon after his arrival he bought a farm and built him a house. He was
also a blacksmith, the first in all that region. His wife was very
industrious, and when necessary, she would leave her work and blow and
strike for him. I recollect him well. When I was five years old he walked
over the fields showing me various things, and trying to entertain me.
Not knowing anything about the infirmities of age, I wondered why he did
not walk faster. He died in 1780, aged eighty-seven. My grandmother was
an excellent woman, particularly fond of me because I was the youngest
grandchild. They had a number of sons and daughters. My father, Martin
Boehm, was the youngest. He was born November 30, 1725, and married in
1753 to Eve Steiner, who was born on Christmas day, 1734. Her ancestors
were from Switzerland, and settled near my grandfather’s.
My father inherited my grandfather’s beautiful farm, and in 1750 built
him a house, in which his children were all born, and where many have
been born again. He was a short, stout man, with a vigorous constitution,
an intellectual countenance, and a fine flowing beard, which gave him a
patriarchal appearance. He had strong common sense, and well understood
the science of family government. The order and discipline of the family
attracted the attention of the apostolic Asbury, and he made mention of
it in preaching my father’s funeral sermon.
Martin Boehm was first a Mennonite preacher, for he embraced the religion
of his fathers. He was made so by lot in 1756, for such was the custom of
this singular people. For some time he preached without a knowledge of
sins forgiven; but in 1761 he found redemption in the blood of the Lamb,
and then he became a flame of fire, and preached with the Holy Ghost
sent down from heaven. His success was wonderful, and the seals to his
ministry were numerous. Then the Mennonites expelled him for being too
evangelical. He then joined the United Brethren, and afterward became a
member of the Methodist Episcopal Church.
My mother was a noble woman, and to my parents I am, under God, indebted
for what I am on earth, and all I hope to be in heaven.
MY EARLY DAYS.
I was born in the old homestead, in the township of Conestoga,[1]
Lancaster County, Pa., on the 8th of June, 1775. This was immediately
after the battle of Lexington, and one year before the Declaration of
Independence. Thus I saw the birth of our nation, and have lived under
the first President, George Washington, and sixteen of his successors,
to Andrew Johnson. I was born nine years before the Methodist Episcopal
Church was organized, and have known all its bishops, from Thomas Coke,
the first, to Calvin Kingsley, the last elected. My memory goes back
over eighty years. I recollect when they traveled out West to Fort Pitt,
now Pittsburgh, on “pack horses.” The roads, if we may call them roads,
for they were mere paths through the wilderness, were so rough that they
could not be traveled any other way.
Like my father, I was the youngest child. There were seven older than
myself, and four of them had grown up to manhood before I was born. I
had a common school education. The old school-house and my schoolmaster,
Henry Rosman, I well remember. He went from house to house, and it was
a great occasion when he came to my father’s to board. He was quite a
character, a perfect original. He came from Hesse Cassel, and was one of
the Hessian soldiers taken prisoner at Trenton, N. J., when Washington
and his noble band crossed the frozen Delaware and surprised Colonel
Ralle and his troops and took them prisoners, while their commander was
slain. Many of the Hessians had come to this country contrary to their
own will to fight against America, and they preferred remaining here to
returning to Europe. A number of them were sent to Lancaster County, and
among the rest my old schoolmaster. He possessed many rare qualifications
for an instructor. He was a thorough German scholar, and had mastered the
English language. His school was kept in perfect order; every scholar
knew his place, and was obliged to keep it. The teacher prayed in school,
and taught the children short prayers. Like Ichabod Crane, he sung psalms
and hymns, and we learned to sing them. Some of the German hymns which
he taught me to sing over eighty years ago I still remember well. To him
I am indebted for my accurate knowledge of the German language, which
I learned before the English. Germans have often admired my correct
pronunciation of their vernacular. They said it was pure, and not mixed
with other dialects, like the Pennsylvania German. In after years it was
a great benefit to me when I preached in German. I was one of the first
among the Methodists that preached in that language. This I have done in
fourteen different states. Some things which I wrote in German over sixty
years ago I have preserved, and am surprised to find them so correct. I
was a great favorite with Mr. Rosman, and he took delight in giving me
instruction.
The little old school-house still remains, but where are the scholars
and the teachers? When, after an absence of many years, I paid a visit
to my native town in 1856, I inquired for my old schoolfellows, hoping
to find one with whom I could converse about by-gone days. I inquired in
vain. They were all gone, and I found myself alone and lonely. Dilworth’s
spelling-book, from which I learned English, and the knife and fork I
used when a very little boy, I have preserved as relics of my childhood.
Once in my early days I went to the theater in Philadelphia. I had
heard much of the theater, and I wanted to see what it was. I got
along very well until mimic thunder and lightning was brought in to
illustrate the play. When I saw and heard this I was shocked. It seemed
to me so irreverent and presumptuous that I thought the Almighty in
his displeasure would send real thunder and lightning to terrify those
imitators. I expected to hear the deep-toned thunder, and to see the
vivid lightning flash over my guilty head. I prayed, and promised God, if
he would only spare me to get out of the house and return safely home, I
would never enter such a place again. That was my first and last visit to
the theater.
RELIGIOUS EXERCISES.
My early advantages for religious instruction were great. I was “brought
up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.” Morning and evening the
old family Bible was read, and prayer was offered. My father’s voice
still echoes in my ears. My mother, too, had much to do in moulding my
character and shaping my destiny. One evening as I returned home I heard
a familiar voice engaged in prayer. I listened: it was my mother. Among
other things, she prayed for her children, and mentioned Henry, her
youngest son. The mention of my name broke my heart, and melted me into
contrition. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I felt the importance of
complying with the command of God: “My son, give me thine heart.”
There lived in my father’s family a wicked man who had a peculiar
hatred against the Methodists, and he prejudiced me against them by his
misrepresentations. This had a soul-withering influence on me. I lost my
tender feelings, and neglected the means of grace. “One sinner destroyeth
much good.” Sinners enticed me to sin and I consented.
In the year 1790, when I was about fifteen, I went to learn the milling
business, and worked in a grist mill. There I had no religious counsel
or example. What a critical period it is when a young man leaves home!
I went into bad company, supposing my father would not hear of it; but
I was mistaken. He did hear of my conduct, and came to see me. When I
saw him I suspected his errand. A guilty conscience needs no accuser.
The plain, solemn, and affecting reproof he gave me at that time had a
wonderful effect upon me. His quivering lip, tearful eye, and tremulous
voice showed how deeply he felt for me. Shame crimsoned my cheeks. His
counsel was not lost, but it terminated in deep conviction for sin. My
soul was burdened, and, almost in despair, I prayed,
“Show pity, Lord, O Lord, forgive;
Let a repenting rebel live.
Are not thy mercies large and free?
May not a sinner trust in thee?”
When my father left I went into the upper loft of the mill, and on my
knees, in an agony of deep distress, I cried, “God be merciful to me
a sinner.” “Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy on me.” I had a view
of the atonement of the Son of God. By faith I realized my interest in
it, and in a moment I felt my heart strangely warmed. My conscience was
assured of its part in the atoning blood, and God sent forth the spirit
of his Son into my heart crying, “Abba, Father.” This was in February,
1793.
I lived near the Lord, and enjoyed a great deal of comfort for some time;
but I fell into a sad error. As I was converted alone away from the
Church the enemy suggested that I could get along without uniting with
God’s people. I yielded, and this error was like to have ruined me. I
enlarge here because many have yielded to a similar temptation and been
lost to the Church and lost to heaven. The lambs of the flock cannot
too soon enter the fold. In apostolic times converts did not first try
the experiment whether they could get along without uniting with the
Church. On the day of Pentecost the three thousand who were “pricked in
their hearts” under the preaching of Peter were baptized and united with
the Church that day. So with the jailer; he was converted, baptized, and
united with the Church that very night in Philippi, when Paul and Silas
prayed, and sang praises to God. This was the course pursued in the days
of the apostles. I would advise young persons not to imitate my example.
Never try to see if you can get along without the Church. _The Church
can get along without you, but you cannot get along without the Church._
Place yourself under her care as soon as possible. Confess Christ before
men, and he will confess you before his Father and the holy angels.
The consequence of my error was that I lost my spiritual enjoyment. My
course was zig-zag. I ran forward, then stood still, then went backward.
I was not a member of the Church, therefore was not under her watch-care,
and I had no opportunity to improve the talents God had given me. I told
no one I was converted. Instead of letting my light shine before men I
resolved to hide it. Sad mistake! Thus I continued five long years. These
were lost years: lost to myself, lost to the Church, and lost to the
world. There is nothing in my early history I regret so much as the loss
of these five years; a loss that tears and prayers cannot recall, for
time once lost is gone forever.
CHAPTER II.
SKETCHES OF EARLY PREACHERS.
The Methodist fathers were self-sacrificing men, who possessed great
virtues, and performed heroic deeds. Many of them are now unknown except
by their names. Those who knew them personally are nearly all numbered
among the dead. I knew most of them, and will give a sketch of a few of
those who found their way into the rural districts of Lancaster County,
Pa.
ROBERT STRAWBRIDGE, the apostle of Methodism in Maryland, is a name
prominent in the early annals of American Methodism. We are indebted to
Ireland for Robert Strawbridge as well as for Philip Embury. I heard
Strawbridge preach at my father’s house in 1781, and am the only man
now living that has a personal recollection of him. Though I was then
quite small, his image is still before me. He was a stout, heavy man,
and looked as if he was built for service. My father was much pleased
with him and his preaching. He was agreeable company, full of interesting
anecdotes. Many times I have been to the old log meeting-house he erected
in Maryland, concerning which so much has been said and written, and
around which so many interests cluster. He died in August of the same
year I heard him, and his spiritual son, Richard Owings,[2] preached his
funeral sermon from Rev. xiv, 13. No monument marks the place where his
dust is sleeping. I hope this will not be said after the celebration
of the first centenary of American Methodism, for his name will be
prominently connected with it.
Another of these pioneers was BENJAMIN ABBOTT, who early visited my
father’s house. He was indeed a son of thunder, and preached with
exceeding power. This was the only ministerial tour he made through
Pennsylvania, and he went like a flame of fire. My father had a very
exalted opinion of Mr. Abbott, and felt it an honor to entertain him as
his guest and listen to his powerful sermons.
Mr. Abbott wrote his life, and in it he describes his visit to my
father’s, his preaching, and the wonderful results that followed. I
prefer he should give it in his own peculiar style.
“At Boehm’s we found a large congregation. When I came to my application
the power of the Lord came in such a manner that the people fell all
about the house, and their cries might be heard afar off. This alarmed
the wicked, who sprang for the doors in such haste that they fell over
one another in heaps. The cry of mourners was so great that I thought
to give out a hymn to drown the noise, and desired one of our English
friends to raise it; but as soon as he began to sing the power of the
Lord struck him, and he pitched under the table, and there lay like a
dead man. I gave it out again, and asked another to raise it. As soon as
he attempted he fell also. I then made the third attempt, and the power
of God came upon me in such a manner that I cried out and was amazed. I
then saw that I was fighting against God, and did not attempt to sing
again.
“Mr. Boehm, the owner of the house, and a preacher among the Germans,
cried out, ‘I never saw God in this way before.’ I replied, ‘This is
a pentecost, father.’ ‘Yes, be sure,’ said he, clapping his hands, ‘a
pentecost, be sure.’ Prayer was all through the house, up stairs and
down. I desired Mr. Boehm to go to prayer. He did so, and five or six of
us did the same.
“A watch-night having been appointed for that evening, and seeing no
prospect of this meeting being over, although it had begun at eleven
o’clock, I told Mr. Boehm we had best quietly withdraw from the
meeting-house. When we had got out of the door a young man came out and
laid hold upon the fence to support himself from falling, and there cried
amain for God to have mercy upon him. ‘To be sure,’ said Mr. Boehm, ‘I
never saw God in this way before.’ We exhorted him to look to God, and
not to give up the struggle, and God would bless him before he left the
place.
“I took the old gentleman by the arm, and we went quietly to the house
to get some dinner. About five o’clock a messenger came from the
preaching-house requesting that I would go there immediately, for there
was a person dying. We went without delay. I went up stairs, and there
lay several about the floor in like manner. I then went to see the
person said to be dying. She lay gasping. I kneeled down to pray, but it
was instantly given me that God had converted her soul, and therefore,
instead of praying for her deliverance, I gave God thanks that he had
delivered her, and immediately she arose and praised God for what he had
done for her soul. A young German came to me and clasped me in his arms,
but could not speak English that I could understand.
“I then retired to the house and consulted with Mr. Boehm who should
preach in the evening, for I thought it would be best for one of the
German preachers to speak first, there being several of them present. The
rumor having run through the neighborhood of the power of God through the
day, we had a very large congregation in the evening, to whom one of the
German preachers preached. It appeared to me he spoke with life. Then Mr.
Boehm gave an exhortation in the German language, and after him a young
man gave a warm exhortation in the same tongue. Then I arose and hardly
knew how to speak, there had been so much said, and it was now growing
late. However I spoke, and the Lord laid to his helping hand as he had
done in the day time. Divers fled, and made their way out of the house,
and then it appeared as if there were none left but what were earnestly
engaged in prayer; some praising God, and others crying for mercy. I told
Mr. Boehm that I should not be fit for the duties of the ensuing day if
I did not retire, so we went to the house about twelve o’clock and took
some refreshment and went to bed. In the morning I found the people were
still engaged, and had been all night. I went to the house about sun an
hour high, where I found about one dozen still engaged in prayer. I told
them we ought to begin to prepare for the other meeting, so they broke up.
“We set out with about forty friends to the next appointment. The people
being gathered, after singing and prayer I began to preach, and God laid
to his helping hand. Many cried aloud for mercy. One young man being
powerfully wrought upon retired up stairs, and then thumped about on the
floor, so that Mr. Boehm was afraid that he would be injured in body.
‘To be sure,’ said he, ‘I never saw God work in this way before.’ I told
him there was no danger, he was in the hands of a merciful God. In a few
minutes after, in attempting to come down stairs, he fell from the top to
the bottom, and hallooed aloud, ‘The devil is in the chamber! the devil
is in the chamber!’ which greatly alarmed all the people. This brought
a great damp over my spirits, for I thought if I had raised the devil I
might as well go home again. However, after a little space, I bid some
of the good people go up stairs and see if the devil was there. Several
went up to see what the matter was, and there they found a man rolling,
groaning, and crying to God for mercy. They returned and told us how
the matter stood. When I dismissed the people many wept around me; some
said they had found peace, some were truly awakened, and others deeply
convicted.”[3]
Such is Mr. Abbott’s description of the scenes that occurred in the old
house where my grandfather used to live. I heard him, and beheld the
strange scenes he relates. It was more like pentecost than anything else
I ever saw. The influence of that meeting was tremendous, and for years
it made a great deal of talk in my father’s neighborhood.
RICHARD WEBSTER was the second Methodist preacher raised up in America.
He joined at the second Conference, 1774, with Philip Gatch, when there
were only twenty Methodist preachers in America and two thousand members.
He was appointed to Baltimore Circuit with the excellent George Shadford
and Edward Dromgoole. He used to preach in my father’s barn long before
the Chapel was built, and I listened to him with great delight. He was
a fine specimen of the early Methodist ministers. He was a perfect
Christian gentleman, a son of consolation; the Gospel flowed sweetly from
his lips. Mr. Webster was the first Methodist minister that Freeborn
Garrettson heard, and he greatly admired him. I heard him preach in after
years, as the shadows of the evening were gathering around him.
SYLVESTER HUTCHINSON was a thundering preacher, who alarmed the careless
ones. In 1790 he preached at my father’s, and a glorious revival followed.
RICHARD WHATCOAT was the Elder in 1790,[4] and I heard him preach. He
was then stationed in Philadelphia, and the only Methodist preacher in
that city. His text was, “There shall be a handful of corn in the earth
on the top of the mountains,” etc. I well remember the preacher and his
illustrations, and the mighty effect produced by the sermon, although it
is now over seventy years ago.
WILLIAM THOMAS was a good minister of Jesus; I heard him on the witness
of the spirit. Our fathers were great in preaching experimental
Christianity, especially the knowledge of sins forgiven.
JOHN JARRELL I heard in 1793. He was lively and energetic. His discourse
was against Winchester’s doctrine of Universal Restoration. “See the
wicked,” said he, “coming up from the furnace of fire. What will they
sing in heaven? ‘Unto Him who hath loved us and washed us from our sins
in his own blood be glory for ever?’ No. They cannot sing any such song;
but ‘Unto hell fire that hath purified us and made us meet for heaven, be
glory for evermore.’ This is the only song they can sing. Will any such
song be heard in heaven?” Thus he used irony in exposing and refuting
error. Mr. Jarrell was a fine-looking man, with a splendid voice, which
he knew how to use to purpose. He was very popular and successful. He
entered the traveling connection in 1786, and, after having traveled ten
years, died in Wilmington, Delaware.
VALENTINE COOK was over six feet high, with dark complexion, long arms,
very black hair, coarse and bushy, and dark piercing eyes. He had a
fine cultivated intellect and a powerful voice. He was an extraordinary
preacher, and I listened to him with great delight. In after years I
heard of his fame when traveling with Bishop Asbury in the West.
JOSEPH EVERETT was a soldier of the Revolution, and a standard-bearer
in the ranks of Methodism. He preached in Boehm’s neighborhood in
1793. He abhorred slavery, and preached against it with all his might,
denouncing it in no measured terms. Sometimes he would refuse to eat with
slaveholders till they had freed their slaves. I spent weeks with him
at Dr. White’s in Cambridge after he had retired from the regular work,
and could only ask, “How goes the battle?” Mr. Everett was six feet
high, well proportioned, of a commanding appearance, very agreeable in
conversation, and full of anecdotes and reminiscences of olden times.
SIMON MILLER was a native of Lancaster County. He possessed much of
this world’s goods, but he was ready to make any sacrifice to preach
the Gospel. He was a man of deep piety and remarkable gifts. He was the
spiritual father of Jacob Gruber. I recollect with gratitude the efforts
he made for my salvation, how earnestly he labored, what sympathy he
manifested. He was a German, and preached in his vernacular. He received
him into society in 1792, when he was but a school-boy. His ministerial
career was brief but brilliant; his end triumphant. He joined the
traveling connection in 1791, and died, deeply lamented, in 1795. He left
no children. Thomas Ware married his widow.
WILLIAM JESSOP was a tall man, with a prominent nose and a very grave
countenance. I knew him intimately, and heard him preach often.
He joined the traveling connection in 1784, the year in which the
Methodist Episcopal Church was organized. Mr. Jessop occupied prominent
appointments. In 1790 he was stationed in New York, and the next year
volunteered to go to Nova Scotia. He died of consumption in the latter
part of 1795, and was buried in the graveyard connected with Boehm’s
Chapel. His last sermon was on the sufferings of Christ, and was one
of the most melting I ever heard. He was reduced almost to a skeleton;
his face was pale, his eye sunken and glassy, his voice sepulchral, his
countenance grave, and his manner solemn as eternity. The preacher and
his auditors felt that his days were numbered. A few days after he died
in triumph, exclaiming, “My work is done! Glory, glory!” He expired at
Strasburg, at the house of John Miller, who was a brother of Simon the
preacher. This family were great friends of the preachers. They nursed
them when sick, and when dying they smoothed their pillow. John and
Simon Miller helped to give character and stability to Methodism in that
region. Mr. Jessop, knowing he could not survive long, sent to Bishop
Asbury requesting him to preach his funeral sermon. The bishop complied,
and preached it at Boehm’s Chapel. He says in his journal: “I had my
difficulties in speaking of a man so well known and so much beloved. He
was always solemn, and few such holy, steady men have we found among us.”
MICHAEL H. R. WILSON visited Lancaster County, and fell at his post
while the dew of his youth was upon him. He was from Maryland, and only
twenty-eight years old when he died, on April 24, 1798. He finished
his course with joy at John Miller’s, in Strasburg, in the same room
where William Jessop had expired three years before, and they were both
interred in the same ground.
But time would fail to tell of Caleb Boyer, John Bloodgood, John
M’Claskey, Joseph Cromwell, John Haggerty, and others, from whom I heard
the Gospel, and to whom I am indebted for my Methodism. These were the
pioneers in the great work of introducing Methodism into Lancaster County.
Bishop Asbury early visited my father’s house. In July, 1799, he came
there with Jesse Lee, who was then his traveling companion. They both
preached at Boehm’s Chapel; the bishop from Heb. vi, 12, Mr. Lee from
Isa. xxx, 31. The latter wandered among the tombs, and stood by the
grave of William Jessop, whom he greatly loved, and wept there, and then
rejoiced for his triumphant death and the consoling thought that “them
that sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.” Reluctantly turning away
from the grave with his eyes moist with tears, he offered the prayer
that has been repeated a thousand times: “Let me die the death of the
righteous, and let my last end be like his.”
Mr. Lee gives a description of my father, of his conversion, his
personal appearance, his long white beard, his call to the ministry, and
his praying in German in the family after Bishop Asbury had prayed in
English.[5]
CHAPTER III.
BOEHM’S CHAPEL.
Great interests cluster around the early Methodist chapels. Boehm’s
Chapel is distinguished for its antiquity. It was the first Methodist
house of worship built in Lancaster County, now studded with Methodist
temples. The plan of the edifice was furnished in 1790 by Richard
Whatcoat, afterward bishop. He was elder at the time, and came there to
administer the ordinances. Years before the erection of this building,
as early as 1775, the year I was born, a class was formed at my father’s
house. My mother was one of the first who joined, and therefore belonged
to the first race of Methodists in America. Until the chapel was built
my grandfather’s house was used as the preaching place, except on great
occasions, when it was too small; then they used the barn.
Boehm’s Chapel was erected in 1791, the year in which Shadrach Bostwick,
Joshua Taylor, and other strong men of our Israel were received on trial.
The house was built on a hill, from which there is a fine view of the
neighborhood country, and was surrounded by trees, which still remain,
adding to the beauty of the scene. The house was built of limestone; was
forty feet deep and thirty-two wide, and had galleries. It was called
“Boehm’s Chapel,” because it was built upon Boehm’s land in Boehm’s
neighborhood, and because the different families of Boehms did much
toward its erection, and were regular attendants there. In the same way
“Barratt’s Chapel,” “Gatch’s Chapel,” “Watters’s Chapel,” and others,
obtained their names. My brother Jacob gave the land for the house and
the burying-ground. In this ground my honored parents were buried.
There were wonderful gatherings at Boehm’s Chapel. The bishops and the
great men of Methodism found their way there, and preached the word. At
quarterly meetings the people came from Philadelphia and the Eastern
Shore of Maryland and the Western Shore from Watters’s neighborhood.
Boehm’s Chapel was a great center of influence. It is difficult now to
estimate the position it once occupied in Methodism. My father was “given
to hospitality,” and at great meetings fifty and even one hundred have
been entertained at his house. Several itinerant ministers were raised
up and went out from the neighborhood of Boehm’s Chapel to preach the
Gospel. Ten I now think of, and there may be others: Joseph Jewell, who
was Nathan Bangs’s first presiding elder in Canada; Simon Miller, Richard
Sneath, William and James Hunter, James and William Mitchell, Thomas and
Robert Burch, and Henry Boehm. David Best and James Aiken were from the
circuit. It is singular they were all from Ireland except Jewell, Miller,
and myself.
Great quarterly meetings were held in this house. I will notice one held
in 1798. Thomas Ware was the presiding elder, William Colbert and William
P. Chandler the circuit preachers. The meeting began on Saturday, and
while the presiding elder was praying the Holy Ghost filled the house
where they had assembled. The work of revival commenced, and such were
the cries of distress, the prayers for mercy heard all over the house,
in the gallery as well as the lower part, that it was impossible for Mr.
Ware to preach. He came down from the pulpit, and the brethren went to
the penitent ones, as they found them in different parts of the house,
and pointed them to Jesus, and prayed with them. They were assembled in
different groups praying for the broken-hearted, and one after another
found redemption in the blood of the Lamb. It was impossible to close the
meeting, so it continued all day and most of the night. Sunday morning
came, and they attempted to hold a regular love-feast, but all in vain.
The cries of mourners, the prayers for mercy, and shout after shout as
one after another passed from death unto life, made it impossible to
proceed. On Saturday, when I beheld my niece Nancy Keaggy kneeling near
me in an agony of prayer asking for mercy, the comparatively innocent
child so intent on forgiveness, my heart was melted, my eyes were filled
with tears, and again I knelt down and there “gave my wanderings o’er by
giving God my heart.” There God restored to me the joy of his salvation.
Then I united with the Church, a duty I ought to have performed years
before. I was admitted by Thomas Ware.
A few months before my probation expired they appointed me class-leader
at Soudersburg. The brethren knew what I had lost by refusing to bear
the yoke in my youth, and they were determined to put it on me and
make me wear it. I begged, but there was no excuse. They threw the
responsibility on me, and said, “On such a day, Henry, do you go and
meet that class.” I was living at my brother Jacob’s, near where the
class met. On Saturday I took my horse and rode to my father’s, eight
miles. My object was to have a good excuse for not meeting the class.
My father was absent preaching. The devotional exercises of the family
devolved on me, and I attended family prayer. The power of God came down,
and my beloved mother and a relative were so overwhelmed they fell to
the floor, and the room was filled with glory. That Saturday night I
retired to rest, but not to sleep. In the morning I rode nine miles and
met the class. We had a refreshing season. I dared not stay away. I took
the manifestations of power the evening before as an indication that I
should obey the preachers in taking charge of the class. I continued to
meet that class for over two years, till I became an itinerant minister.
To the class-meeting I am greatly indebted. There I was “strengthened,”
“stablished,” “settled.”
A great revival followed that quarterly meeting. My father’s children
and grandchildren shared largely in it. Some moved to Canada, some to
Ohio, and other parts of the West. They are nearly all now in heaven.
The revival spread to the Peninsula, from that to Baltimore in 1800, and
the influence was felt all over the country. Bishop Asbury mentions my
brother Jacob, and says, “God has begun to work in the children of this
family. The parents have followed us for the space of twenty years.”
On August 31, 1799, he says: “I had a comfortable time at Boehm’s
church. Here lieth the dust of William Jessop and Michael R. Wilson....
Martin Boehm is upon wings and springs since the Lord has blessed his
grandchildren. His son Henry is greatly led out in public exercises.”
This is the mention the bishop makes of my boyish performances. Honorable
mention I might make of the ministers who were engaged in this revival:
Thomas Ware, William Colbert, and William Penn Chandler. The latter was
my spiritual father.
CHAPTER IV.
GENERAL CONFERENCE OF 1800.
The General Conference of 1800 was one of the most remarkable in the
history of our Church. The revival at that time was the greatest that
has ever occurred during the session of any General Conference. I was a
visitor, and had peculiar opportunities to witness the wonderful scenes
that created joy on earth and in heaven. All the accounts we have had are
extremely meager. As I have been preserved, while all who were actors in
those scenes are gone, I will describe what I heard and saw at that time.
Is it not generally known that the greatest displays of divine power and
the most numerous conversions were in private houses, in prayer-meetings?
And yet the preaching was highly honored of God, for the ministers were
endued with power from on high. I kept in my journal a particular account
of their texts and themes.
The General Conference commenced its session on Tuesday, May 6, in
Light-street, Baltimore. All the General Conferences, from the famous
Christmas conference to the first delegated conference, were held in
Baltimore. Baltimore was a small place to what it is now. We then
called it Baltimore town. The Methodists had two church edifices, one
in Light-street, the other in Oldtown, which was in the suburbs. This
was the first time I had ever seen a body of Methodist preachers; only
now and then one who wended his way to my father’s neighborhood. The
conference was then composed of all the traveling elders. The strong
men of Methodism were there, and such a noble class of men I had never
beheld. There were Philip Bruce, Jesse Lee, George Roberts, John
Bloodgood, William P. Chandler, John M’Claskey, Ezekiel Cooper, Nicholas
Snethen, Thomas Morrell, Joseph Totten, Lawrence M’Combs, Thomas F.
Sargent, William Burke, William M’Kendree, and other prominent men. These
were representative men who laid the broad foundations of Methodism east,
west, north, and south. What a privilege to hear them debate, and listen
to their sermons!
Such was the health of Bishop Asbury he thought of resigning; but the
conference, in order to relieve him, authorized him to take an elder
as a traveling companion. This the bishop did during the remainder of
life. They elected Richard Whatcoat bishop, he having a majority of four
votes over Jesse Lee. I witnessed the excitement attending the different
ballotings. The first, no election; the second, a tie; the third, Richard
Whatcoat was elected.
I will now make some extracts from my journal, written sixty-five years
ago.
“_Sabbath morning, May 11, 1800._—I heard Bishop Asbury preach in
Light-street Church on the perfect law of liberty. He had great liberty
in preaching, and multitudes as well as myself were blessed under
the word. In the afternoon Rev. Thomas Lyell, on making our calling
and election sure. There was preaching at four o’clock in two places
on the streets, and several were converted. In the evening we had a
prayer-meeting at Brother William Bruff’s. After we began to sing and
pray the people crowded in till the house was filled, and the awakening
and converting power of God was displayed. After the prayer-meeting was
over we went to Oldtown meeting-house, singing the praises of God along
the streets. This greatly surprised the people, and hundreds came running
out of their houses and followed us till we reached the house of God.
There were wonderful exhibitions of power as we went through the streets,
and we entered the house singing and shouting the praises of God. Five
were converted that evening. It was heaven in my soul and glory all
around. On Monday evening we went to John Chalmers’s to prayer-meeting.
It was a powerful meeting. God’s people prayed that sinners might be
awakened and converted. Heaven heard their petitions, and twenty-four
were converted to God that night. The meeting lasted till two o’clock the
next morning. God was converting the people in three different rooms at
the same time. I never saw such a night. Glory! glory!
“_Tuesday, May 13._ Numbers stayed at Brother Bruff’s over night, and the
work of revival soon began. In the morning, Philip Bruce came to us and
went to prayer, and the Lord answered and came in our midst. Some were
crying for mercy, while others were leaping for joy. We then came down to
Brother Price’s and began to sing, and some of the neighbors came in and
we went to prayer. The Lord was there of a truth. Several were converted,
and one who was in the class yesterday. This is a day of feasting. The
Lord is at work in all parts of the town. There were six converted last
night at the Point. Brother Chalmers preached a sermon at six o’clock
at Brother Bruff’s, and two more were converted. In the evening went
to Oldtown meeting, and God’s power was there, and several more were
converted.
“_Wednesday, 14._ In the evening Brother Smith preached at Brother
Bruff’s; many rejoiced in the God of their salvation. After that we went
to Oldtown meeting, where Rev. John M’Claskey preached a powerful sermon.
The Lord blessed his word: there were six converted. The children of
darkness were very mad.
“_Thursday, 15._ Felt very weak, being up every night till after twelve
o’clock; but it is in a good cause. Rested to-day at Brother Martin’s. In
the evening went to Brother Bruff’s. At 5 o’clock Rev. Lawrence M’Combs
preached. He impressed holiness upon the people. Many saw a great beauty
in it. While he was preaching, one was converted; before the meeting
broke up, two more were set at liberty. Old and young were leaping for
joy. My soul, praise the Lord!
“_Friday, 16._ Spent the day in the Conference. The Lord is with the
preachers of a truth. In the evening went to meeting again at Brother
Bruff’s. Christopher Sprye preached a powerful sermon. After preaching
the Lord began to work, and eighteen were converted that night. ‘Christ
the Lord is come to reign.’
“_Saturday, 17._ Stayed last night at Brother Chalmers’s, at the Point.
Heard Dr. Thomas F. Sargent preach from 2 Cor. vi, 1, ‘We then, as
workers together with him,’ etc. He spoke with great liberty. Some were
crying for mercy. This evening, at Brother Bruff’s, three were converted.
“Sunday, the 18th, was a great day in Baltimore among the Methodists.
The ordination sermon was preached by Rev. Thomas Coke, LL.D., in
Light-street Church. Crowds at an early hour thronged the temple. The
doctor preached from Rev. ii, 8, ‘And unto the angel of the Church at
Smyrna write; These things saith the First and the Last, which was dead
and is alive,’ etc. After the sermon, which was adapted to the occasion,
Richard Whatcoat was ordained a Bishop in the Church of God by the
imposition of the hands of Dr. Coke and Bishop Asbury, assisted by
several elders. Never were holy hands laid upon a holier head. In those
days we went ‘out into the highways and hedges and compelled them to come
in.’ That afternoon Jesse Lee preached in the market-house on Howard’s
Hill, from John xvii, 3, ‘And this is life eternal, that they might
know thee the only true God and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.’ The
Lord was there in a powerful manner. Several were converted; one in the
evening at Brother Bruff’s.”
Jesse Lee makes the following record in his Journal: “The power of the
Lord came down upon us while I was preaching, and the people wept and
roared aloud and prayed most earnestly. Joseph Totten exhorted with life.
Afterward several prayed with those who were under conviction.”
“On Monday, the 19th, Richard Sneath preached in the evening. Many came
to hear the word of the Lord and were affected. After preaching we went
to John Chalmers’s. We had a glorious time. Eight were converted, and
about that number received the second blessing. The meeting was going
on in three rooms; sinners were crying for mercy in each, and the glory
of God filled the room as one after another passed from death unto
life. This was a never-to-be-forgotten night. A shout of victory in one
room inspired them in another. The meeting was continued with unabated
interest until three o’clock the next morning.
“On Tuesday, the 20th, I heard the Rev. Jesse Lee preach at Brother
Bruff’s. Many were powerfully wrought upon under the word. In those days
he preached with unusual power and success. Several of the old fathers
and mothers stayed here after preaching, and while they were talking
about the goodness of God such a melting power came down that almost all
who were present were melted into tears.
“_Wednesday, 21._ Yesterday Conference adjourned, and the preachers have
parted and are going to different parts of the continent, having got a
fresh spring from heaven. About five in the evening the young converts
met together at Brother Bruff’s. Brother James Moore and several of the
preachers were with us. We sung and prayed with them. The Lord was with
us of a truth. Some of the sisters related their experience, which was
rendered a great blessing to all who were present. It filled me with joy
to see so many young people happy in God; some of them were strangers to
God only a few days ago. At night we went to the Point; the power of God
was among the people; many were crying for mercy, and four were converted
to God. After meeting I went home with Brother Haskins.
“_Thursday, May 22._ Came up to Oldtown this morning. I am told there
were seven souls converted last night at the upper end of the town in a
prayer-meeting. The devil can’t stand the prayers of the faithful ones.
It seems there was the most good done in the prayer-meetings. The Lord
loves simplicity.”
Bishop Asbury writes only fifteen lines concerning this wonderful
Conference. He says, “The unction that attended the word was great;
more than one hundred souls professed conversion during the sitting of
the Conference.” Bishop Whatcoat is still more brief. In nine lines he
tells the story. “We had a most blessed time and much preaching, fervent
prayers and strong exhortations through the city, while the high praises
of a gracious God reverberated from street to street and from house to
house. It was thought that not less than two hundred were converted
during the Conference.”—_Journal_, p. 29. Jesse Lee’s account is also
short: “Such a time of refreshing from the presence of the Lord has not
been felt in that town for some years.”—_Lee’s History_, p. 271.
During this Conference I became acquainted with many choice spirits,
both among the ministry and laity; among the rest, Dr. Thomas Coke.
I not only had the pleasure of hearing the doctor preach and make
motions and speeches in the Conference, but also of dining with him
and Bishop Asbury. The doctor was a short man, and rather corpulent.
He had a beautiful face, and it was full of expression, a sweet smile
often playing over his features. His eyes were dark and his look very
piercing. His voice was soft and full of melody, unless raised to a
very high pitch, and then it was harsh, discordant, and squeaking. His
conversational powers were great. He was very entertaining. He did a
noble work for American Methodism, and should ever be remembered with the
liveliest sentiments of gratitude. He sleeps in the Indian Ocean, “till
the sea give up its dead.”
Brother Bruff, at whose house such glorious meetings were held, and where
so many souls were converted, was a most excellent man. He had married
Catharine, sister of Harry Ennalls, of Dorchester; she was instrumental
in introducing Methodism into that county. She was a sister to Governor
Bassett’s first wife. Mrs. Bruff was a very superior woman; her Christian
virtues shone with transcendent luster. She was very useful in that
revival, as well as many other holy women whose names are in the Book of
Life.
It will be seen that John Chalmers did a noble work. He joined the
Conference in 1788, but had located. Years after, side by side, I fought
with this veteran the battles of the Lord. I never knew a more courageous
soldier, one that used sharper arrows, or had more splendid victories. We
shall see more of him before we are through with this narrative.
CHAPTER V.
PHILADELPHIA CONFERENCE—GREAT REVIVALS—BARRATT’S CHAPEL.
We reluctantly bade adieu to our kind friends in Baltimore on Saturday,
May 24, 1800, and started for Duck Creek (now called Smyrna) Cross Roads,
the seat of the Philadelphia Conference, in company with Dr. Chandler,
L. M’Combs, Samuel Coate, John Chalmers, and Shadrach Bostwick. We went
in a packet to Georgetown Cross Roads, and arrived just in time for a
love-feast. Some of those present had been to Baltimore and beheld the
wonderful works of God, and returned home full of the holy fire, and the
revival extended to that place. On Monday Dr. Chandler and I went to Duck
Creek Cross Roads, and were entertained at Brother George Kennard’s.
The revival at the Philadelphia Conference is a matter of history as one
of the most remarkable that has taken place on this continent, and yet we
have had few particulars. All the bishops and preachers who were there
are dead, and I alone am left to give an account. Fortunately I kept
a record of what took place every day. It was written with the utmost
simplicity, and I transcribe it because every scrap of the history of
that period is valuable. It shows the simplicity of the times, and how
our fathers did in days of old.
“We had preaching on the evening of May 27. The power of God was
among the people. Some were convicted of sin. On Thursday evening a
prayer-meeting was held. God’s people were blessed, and went singing and
shouting on their way home.
“On Friday, the 30th, Brother Chandler and I went to meet Bishops Asbury
and Whatcoat. Bishop Whatcoat arrived, and preached from ‘Come out from
among them, and be ye separate,’ etc. It was a season of refreshing from
the presence of the Lord. Bishop Asbury had gone to Dover, and did not
come till Sunday. On Saturday evening Brother John Chalmers preached.
There was considerable of a move. The expectations of the people were
greatly raised. Some were powerfully convicted, and others shouted aloud
the praise of God.
“On Sunday, June 1, a prayer-meeting was held at sunrise. At eleven
o’clock Father Whatcoat preached from Rev. xi, 18: ‘And the nations were
angry, and thy wrath is come, and the time of the dead,’ etc. He preached
with great liberty; the word was powerful; many were convicted of sin,
and others rejoiced in the God of their salvation. I never felt happier
in my life. After preaching a love-feast was held, in which one was
converted. There was preaching in the afternoon and evening, and great
power among the people.
“On Monday morning, June 2, the conference commenced its session. At
sunrise Anning Owen preached on Christian perfection; it was a theme he
loved. Quite a number were present at this early hour. I never saw such a
beauty in holiness before. There were sixty-six preachers present at the
conference. The conference was held at a private house; the meeting-house
was used for religious services. Tuesday was a great day. The work began
in the morning, and went on all day and the greater part of the night,
and numbers were converted.
“On Wednesday, about sunrise, there was a sermon preached, and the power
came down upon the people. The work then went on all day and until three
o’clock the next morning, and many were brought to rejoice in God their
Saviour. I never saw such a glorious time; it exceeds what we have just
witnessed in Baltimore. Sinners are flocking home; the people of God are
getting happier and happier. I feel thankful that I ever came to Duck
Creek Cross Roads.
“_Thursday, 5._ This morning we had a glorious love-feast. The power of
God was among the people, and many rejoiced with exceeding great joy.
The work of revival continued; sinners were crying for mercy, and many
obtained pardon. Many were converted at Brother Kennard’s house. The
work of God continued all this day and most of the night. Great numbers
were converted. In the evening a sermon was preached, followed by an
exhortation; both delivered with great power. God was among the people.
Such a night I never beheld, such a shout I never heard. I think there
were upward of two hundred people who shouted at one time. It was glory
all over the house, and I hope it will be remembered throughout all
eternity.”
Bishop Asbury mentions the revival in his journal, and says, “Over one
hundred souls were converted to God.” Jesse Lee says “one hundred and
fifty.” They both made too low an estimate.
There were great revivalists at this conference: W. P. Chandler, John
Chalmers, Jesse Lee, each a host in himself, and many others, who entered
heartily into the work. It was not confined to them; the preachers and
people all had a mind to work. This conference will ever be memorable
as the most fruitful in saving souls of any ever held in America. Those
who were not present can form but a faint idea of the nature of the
work. Meetings were held day and night with rarely any intermission. One
meeting in the church continued forty-five hours without cessation. Many
were converted in private houses and at family prayer as well as in the
house of the Lord. This revival did immense good; the preachers returned
to their work like flames of fire.
As the Philadelphia Conference held its session six hours each day, the
members were obliged to be present; but as I was not a member I had
nothing to interrupt me or to call off my attention from the revival,
but devoted every moment to the blessed work. For several nights I did
not take off my clothes, but lay down upon the sofa and rested a little
while, and then up and right into the thickest of the battle. Thus was
I employed for days and nights, and was an eye and ear witness to the
joyful scenes that were occurring.
This was my second visit to Duck Creek. I was there in 1798 with Dr.
William P. Chandler, and then we put up at Brother George Kennard’s. This
was my home at the conference in 1800, and there we had the company of
Bishops Asbury and Whatcoat. Brother Kennard was a gentleman, a merchant,
a great business man, and a thorough Methodist. He used to correspond
with Bishop Asbury. His house was one of the choice Methodist homes in
that day, and there in after years I was made very welcome.
The scenes which I witnessed in the revival at Baltimore during the
General Conference, and then so soon after in the one at Duck Creek Cross
Roads, come up freshly before me after over threescore years, and I still
feel the sacred flame. And yet a kind of melancholy comes over me when I
remember I am the sole survivor that took an active part in the scenes
that angels must have contemplated with delight. Like an aged oak, I
remain while all the trees have fallen around me.
At this conference Richard Whatcoat first presided as bishop. A number of
young men were received, who occupied prominent stations and made their
mark in after years: Learner Blackman, Jacob Gruber, well known for his
virtues and eccentricities, William Williams, and others.
This remarkable conference closed on the 6th of June, at nine o’clock,
and I started for my father’s house, walking sixty miles to the rural
district of Lancaster; having seen more, heard more, enjoyed more, since
I left home, than in all my lifetime before. It was an ever-memorable
period in my history.
Twice before I had been down the Peninsula with Dr. Chandler, and
witnessed wonderful displays of the power of God; the first in 1798, the
second in 1799, when there was a great revival on Cecil Circuit, the
flame of which spread to Baltimore. I was permitted again to accompany
him. The reason was, my health had suddenly failed. I was mowing in my
brother’s meadow in August; the day was excessively hot, and I perspired
most freely; while in this state I walked through cold spring water, and
it checked perspiration and affected my whole system. I was so ill that I
was obliged to leave the meadow and return home. When I reached the house
I found Dr. Chandler, the circuit preacher, had just arrived. He was a
physician and minister, and could attend to bodies as well as souls. His
arrival seemed to be providential, and may have saved my life. He saw
the critical state I was in, and that there was no time to be lost. He
immediately bled me, which afforded instant relief. And yet I continued
very weak and unable to work, therefore the doctor proposed that I should
go with him to Cape Henlopen, where I could be benefited by sea-bathing.
With great joy I accepted the invitation, and we soon were ready for our
journey. Better company no one could have, and I had this to comfort me,
my medical adviser was with me. I believe that tour not only benefited my
health, but had a great influence in shaping my destiny in after years.
On our way we stopped at a quarterly meeting at “Barratt’s Chapel.” This
chapel was twelve miles below Dover, in Delaware, between Dover and
Milford. It was built of brick, on land belonging to Philip Barratt, who
rendered much assistance, and therefore it was called “Barratt’s Chapel.”
Francis Asbury encouraged its erection. He visited this place on March
20, 1780, and had an interview with Philip Barratt and Waitman Scipple,
and he says, they “determined to go about the chapel.” They then fixed
the site, concluding “to set it near the drawbridge.” Such was the origin
of this chapel. Mr. Asbury, we see, was the prime mover. He also helped
raise means to erect it, for on November 8, 1780, at Perdin’s, after
lecturing, he “engaged the friends to subscribe seven hundred weight of
pork toward the meeting-house at Barratt’s.”—_Journal_, vol. i, p. 410.
Philip Barratt was a noble man, and he and Francis Asbury were great
friends. I did not know him, he was gone before my time, but I knew
his children. He had three sons: Andrew was a judge, and a man of
talents. He lived near the church, and we put up with him. Doctor
Barratt was a practicing physician. Caleb was the only son who was a
member of our Church; the others were friendly. How would the spirit
of Philip Barratt (as well as that of Asbury) rejoice to know that he
had a great-grandson a foreign missionary. The Rev. William Prettyman,
formerly of the Philadelphia, then of the Baltimore Conference, married
a daughter of Doctor Barratt, and his son, Doctor William Prettyman, is
the Superintendent of our Methodist Mission in Bulgaria, Turkey. The
Methodist seed among the descendants of Philip Barratt has not run out.
This is the famous chapel where Doctor Coke and Asbury met for the first
time and embraced each other. Famous meeting! of great hearts and kindred
spirits who have met long since in a far more glorious temple,
“Where perfect love and friendship reign
To all eternity.”
Here the plan was formed for the meeting of the Methodist Minister’s
Conference in Baltimore, by which the Methodist Episcopal Church was
organized in 1784.
In the love-feast at this quarterly meeting I made a covenant with God,
that if he would restore me to health I would dedicate myself wholly to
him, and would do the work of an evangelist to the best of my ability. I
here made the promise, and the covenant I have always kept in mind; and
I have not only taken “the cup of salvation and called upon the name of
the Lord,” but have been enabled “to pay my vows in the presence of his
people.”
I traveled that circuit some years after, and was presiding elder of the
district, and often preached at this heaven-honored chapel; but never did
I enter it without peculiar feelings, remembering the love-feast and my
self-consecration to the work of the ministry.
Sunday being over, Dr. Chandler and myself started for Lewistown and Cape
Henlopen. We put up at Caleb Rodney’s. The light-house was kept by a
local preacher named J. R. Hargus. I stayed with him at the light-house
and bathed in the salt water. I had never seen the ocean before. I was so
weak that when I walked down upon the shore the breezes from the ocean
almost deprived me of my breath. I went in to bathe at one time and
the waves came rolling in from the ocean and threw me down, and I was
greatly frightened. I did not know but the returning waves would carry
me out where I could not get back. The fright and being thrown down set
my blood circulating, roused it to action, and did me much good. Dr.
Chandler, when he saw me thrown down by the undertow, and witnessed my
fright, laughed, and said, “that was just what he wanted; he was glad of
it; it would benefit me more than all the medicine I could take.” The
doctor was right. In less than a week I had greatly improved; and there
was prospect of soon recovering my strength. In a little time I was as
well as ever: a happy soul in a sound body.
The next Sabbath, on our return, we attended a quarterly meeting at
Milford. The place of worship was too small to hold the vast multitudes,
and they were obliged to go in a grove to preach the word. There was a
mighty outpouring of the Spirit of God, and many exclaimed, “Men and
brethren, what shall we do?” During the exercises, one man—a person of
standing and influence—was so affected that he tried to hold himself up
as he stood trembling by a sapling, but he could not stand. He got down
on the ground and cried for mercy, and there he experienced religion. He
united with the Methodist Church and became a very useful member.
The Rev. William Mills, of Philadelphia Conference, preached. His
text was novel and his explanations original. It was 1 Sam. xxx, 24:
“But as his part is that goeth down to the battle, so shall his part
be that tarrieth by the stuff: they shall part alike.” He said the
itinerant preachers were the ones that went to battle for God and
truth—standard-bearers in the Christian army, achieving victory after
victory over the king’s enemies; but they must not think they were to
receive all the reward—as if they accomplished all that was done. He
showed that it was as necessary for some to stay by the stuff as it was
for others to go into the battle; both were doing the work of the Lord.
The local preachers and exhorters and class-leaders and private members
that stay by the stuff should not lose their reward, but their part shall
be equal to those that went to battle. This is the order of Heaven, and
nothing could be more just and proper than this law, that those who stay
at home to defend house and property have equal right to the spoils of
victory as those who go forth to battle.
The next day I returned to my father’s house a healthier, wiser, and
better man than when I left. The scenes I witnessed on the tour are very
vivid before me after the lapse of over threescore years. Dr. Chandler’s
kindness to me was unparalleled. He lives in my affections, and I look
back upon him as one of the finest specimens of a Christian gentleman
with whom it has been my good fortune to be associated.
When I arrived at home my father was about to take a ministerial tour
through Pennsylvania, Maryland, and the great valley of Virginia, or
what was known as “New Virginia.” He wished me to accompany him, and I
did so. We were absent from home about a month. It was in September and
October. I kept a diary in the German language, written every day, of
where we were and what we were doing. It is still carefully preserved.
My father was a German preacher, then holding some connection with the
“United Brethren.” The Rev. William Otterbein was with the same people.
We traveled every day, and my father preached in German, and I exhorted
after him, sometimes in German and sometimes in English. He preached
with great life, power, and success, and had many seals to his ministry.
We went as far as Winchester, Va., where he preached in the Methodist
church, and under the sermon one was awakened, namely, Simon Lauck, who
afterward became a traveling preacher and a member of the Baltimore
Conference. My father also preached at the Rev. Henry Smith’s father’s. I
remember his text and sermon well.
I had an opportunity of getting more particularly acquainted with the
distinguished ministers connected with the United Brethren. They held
great meetings that were often attended with power. Their annual meeting
was held September 25, at Peter Kemp’s, in Frederick County, Maryland.
This was important in many respects. First, they resolved to call
themselves “_The Church of the United Brethren in Christ_.” Second, they
elected bishops for the first time. William Otterbein and Martin Boehm
(my father) were unanimously chosen. Here were assembled their great men:
Gueting, Newcomer, Draksel, and the two brothers Crums. The meeting was
full of interest. Reports were given from different parts of the work,
and each minister gave an account of the progress of the work of God in
his own soul. They had at that time but little order and discipline, and
what I had seen of the order and discipline of the Methodists at the
General Conference in Baltimore and at the Philadelphia Conference showed
me the vast superiority of the latter, and I made up my mind to enter
their itinerant ministry.
CHAPTER VI.
MY FIRST CIRCUIT, DORCHESTER.
In January, 1800, I began my regular itinerant life. It was on Dorchester
Circuit, on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, in Philadelphia Conference.
The peninsula that lies between the Delaware and Chesapeake Bays, though
not considered very healthy, was the garden of Methodism in America.
Methodism was early introduced there, and for a time the ministers were
greatly persecuted; but they achieved a glorious success. The heroic
Garrettson was persecuted; Caleb B. Pedicord, the sweet singer of our
Israel, received scars which he carried with him to the grave; Joseph
Hartley was imprisoned, and through the grates of his prison preached
deliverance to the captive; and Thomas S. Chew took the sheriff prisoner
who had taken him captive. Dorchester Circuit was formed in 1780. It was
a large circuit, embracing not only Dorchester County, but Taylor’s and
Hooper’s Island in the Chesapeake Bay.
The introduction of Methodism into Dorchester can be traced to the
conversion of a young woman, Miss Catharine, sister of Harry Ennalls.
She was afterward Mrs. Bruff of Baltimore, who was so useful in the
revival at the General Conference of 1800. Through her influence her
sister Mary, and her husband, the Hon. Richard Bassett of Delaware, were
converted; also Henry Airey, Esq. It was at Squire Airey’s house that
Freeborn Garrettson preached the first Methodist sermon in Dorchester
County, and from that house he was taken to the jail at Cambridge. The
squire threw over Mr. Garrettson the mantle of his protection as far as
he was able. I learned while traveling there that all the ringleaders in
that mob died a violent death, except Batt Ennalls, who was converted,
and joined the Church. I knew him very well, and preached at his house
when on that circuit. The sad end of these persecutors was considered a
special judgment from God.
I was employed by Rev. Thomas Ware to preach on this circuit because John
Leach was sick and unable to travel. He was an excellent young man, with
a shattered constitution, who lingered a year or two, and then entered
into rest. I bade farewell to the scenes of my childhood and started to
go among strangers. My mother’s sweet kiss and my aged father’s blessing
I still remember. The tears rolled down my cheek as I looked back upon
the home of my childhood, the old family mansion, endeared to me by so
many tender associations. With weakness, fear, and much trembling, I
entered upon my new field of labor and began to cultivate Immanuel’s
land. The arrival of a new preacher, a German youth from Pennsylvania,
was soon noised abroad, and this called out many to see and hear. I was
reluctant to go to a circuit and preach in the English tongue. Had it
been in the German language I should not have been so embarrassed.
For two months I suffered powerful temptation to abandon my work and
return home. I went to Brother Harry Ennalls’s. He lived near the
Choptank River, one of the largest streams on the Peninsula. His house
was a preaching-place and a home for the preachers. This family did not
belong to the class who were “afraid they would be eaten out of house
and home.” Harry Ennalls was a man of wealth, and he used this world
as not abusing it. His money gave him power and influence, which were
used to advance the great interest of the Redeemer’s kingdom. He was a
holy, zealous Christian, and a devout Methodist. One of our preachers,
Thomas Smith, met him and the late Hon. James A. Bayard, senator in
Congress from Delaware, at Governor Bassett’s. Harry Ennalls prayed
with great power and unction, talking with God as if he was used to
conversing with him. He did not forget the honorable statesman in his
prayer, but fervently invoked the blessing of God upon him. When he
had finished praying, and the family had risen from their knees, Mr.
Bayard was observed walking the floor very rapidly, much agitated; then
turning to Mr. Ennalls, he said, “Henry, what did you mean by shaking
your brimstone bag over me?” “To save you from hell, sir,” replied Mr.
Ennalls. Governor Bassett’s first wife was Harry Ennalls’s sister.
Harry Ennalls’s wife was one of the best of women. She was a Goldsbury,
related to Governor Goldsbury. This was one of the great families of
the Peninsula. They had no children, and always made the preachers very
welcome, and considered the younger as their children. Mrs. Ennalls, who
was a person of discernment, saw I was suffering under deep depression of
spirits. I was fearful I had mistaken my calling. Ingenuously she asked
me a great many questions, till she drew from me the real state of my
mind. When she found out that I was discouraged, and about to give up my
work in despair and return home, she gave me such a reproof as I shall
never forget. “My young brother,” she said, “your eternal salvation may
depend upon the course you are about to take. You may lose your soul by
such an unwise, hasty step.” Then she exhorted me in the most earnest and
emphatic manner not to abandon my work, but to keep on. I resolved in
the strength of my Master to try again, and though over threescore years
have gone into eternity since “having obtained help from God, I continue
unto this day.” Well I remember that hospitable mansion; and the room in
which we were, the attitude of the woman, her anxious countenance, her
piercing eye, the tone of her voice, are all before me just as if it were
yesterday. Her wise counsel has had an influence upon me all my days; it
shaped my destiny for life. She has been in the grave for many years, and
I remember her still with a heart overflowing with gratitude.[6]
I then went to that famous house where the first sermon was preached in
Dorchester County by Freeborn Garrettson, where the widow of Squire Airey
resided. The old squire was dead and gone. By his position and character
he was enabled to do noble service for Methodism, and he deserves a
conspicuous place in the gallery of portraits of the distinguished laymen
of the early Methodist Church in America. His widow still lived in the
old homestead, and the itinerant ministers were made as welcome as when
he was alive. She lived but a short distance from Mr. Ennalls. In family
prayer we had a gracious time. The Holy Ghost descended in copious
effusions, and the widow was so baptized she shouted aloud for joy and
was greatly strengthened and encouraged. I retired to my couch feeling
that my soul was resting in God.
It was in the month of March, and the snow had mantled the earth with its
sheet of white. I went to sleep sweetly and had a most singular dream. I
have never attached much importance to dreams, but this was so strange
that I will relate it; it will do no harm if it does no good. I dreamed
of seeing a large field of wheat, ripe, waving before the wind, ready
for the sickle, and the reapers were cutting it down and binding up the
golden sheaves. And there was a large field of green wheat, so extensive
I saw no end. This beautiful dream was a benefit to me; the idea of such
scenery at that time of the year, when the snow was on the ground, caused
me to rejoice, and the rejoicing to awake, and lo, it was but a dream. I
concluded this dream could not have come from an evil source, otherwise I
could not have been in such a happy state of mind; and if it was from a
good source, it was for some good purpose, and accordingly I thanked God
and took courage, and “went forth weeping, bearing precious seed,” not
doubting that I should “come again with rejoicing, bringing my sheaves
with me.”
We had a number of appointments on Dorchester circuit. I have preserved
the names of all the classes and of all the members, both colored and
white, and of those who died during the year, and of those who married
out of the society, and all who were expelled. The record is singular;
it would be still more so if we knew the destiny of each of the persons
whose name is recorded; but they are all written in God’s book. Most
of them, no doubt, are in their graves. A prominent appointment was
Cambridge. It was here that the noble Garrettson was imprisoned. But
the days of persecution were passed, and Methodism was respected.
Here resided Dr. Edward White, who helped give tone and character to
Methodism. Among the names I find on the class-book in Cambridge are Dr.
Edward White, Mary Ann White, his wife, and Eliza White, Sarah White, and
Mary White, his three daughters.
Religion did wonders for the colored people on this circuit, and hundreds
of them were converted. They sometimes took the name of their masters.
I copy from the African class at Cambridge: Edward, Lina, Jacob, Alice,
Ralph, Lua, David, Rhoda, Adam, Esther, Rachel, Harrie, Isaac, Minta,
Primus, Philus, Ned, Den, John, Drape, Rive, Robert, Tom, Jacob, David,
Adam, Esther.
I preached at Ennalls’s meeting-house. There was also a class at Harry
Ennalls’s: on the book are the names of Harry Ennalls, leader; Sarah,
his wife, and Eliza Airey, the widow of Squire Airey. There are other
honorable names that I have not space to transcribe—they are in the book
of life. There were two colored classes that met at Ennalls’s: one had
twenty members, the other twenty-five. Among their names are Pompey,
Dido, Moses, and others. We not only had separate classes for the colored
people, but separate love-feasts; they were generally held in the morning
previous to the love-feasts for the whites, and were seasons of great
interest. Religion in its simplicity and power was exhibited by them.
We preached also at Airey’s Chapel. This was not far from where Squire
Airey lived and died, and it was called after him; there was a class or
society here; there were forty-four names belonging to one class. William
Pitt was the leader, and among the members were a number of Aireys.
CHAPTER VII.
MY SECOND CIRCUIT, ANNAMESSEX, 1802.
Bishops Asbury and Whatcoat visited my circuit previous to the Conference
of 1801, which was held in Philadelphia. We had then but two houses of
worship in that city, St. George’s and Ebenezer.
There was great political excitement at the time. Federalism and
Democracy ran high, and Jefferson and Adams were talked about everywhere.
Such was the excitement that it separated families and friends and
members of the Church. I was urged on every side to identify myself with
one political party or the other, or to express an opinion. I felt sad
to see what influence this state of feeling was producing in the Church.
I consulted Bishop Whatcoat, who said that our different political
sentiments should never affect our Christian fellowship and affections;
that each had a right to his own peculiar views, and we should make no
man an offender because his views of politics were different from ours.
At this Conference I was not received on trial, because my recommendation
from Dorchester circuit, by some mistake, was not brought to the
Conference. I was received virtually, but not formally. The next year,
to the question in the Minutes, “Who remain on trial?” the answer is,
“Henry Boehm;” and at the end of the following year I was admitted into
full connection and ordained. The Minutes and Dr. Bangs’s History make me
one year younger in the traveling ministry than I am. I date from 1801,
the same year as Dr. Bangs and Bishop Hedding.
At the Conference of 1801, William Colbert was appointed to Annamessex
Circuit, and Thomas Ware, the presiding elder, employed me to labor with
him. Mr. Colbert had charge also of Somerset Circuit, on which Daniel
Ryan and Edward Larkins traveled.
The introduction of Methodism into this circuit was providential, and in
it we can see the hand of God. A Methodist preacher, whose name I have
forgotten, was on his way from the Line Chapel to Accomac, Virginia.
(It was so called because on the _line_ between Delaware and Maryland.)
The preacher being a stranger, inquired the best way to Accomac. He was
directed into the Cypress Swamp, which extended for many miles.
Supposing it was the direct route, the unsuspecting stranger entered,
to learn, by sad experience, that he had been deceived. After wandering
about for a long time in the mud, bogs, and water, where he was in danger
of sinking, he came out of the swamp near the house of Jepthah Bowen, on
the east side of the Pocomoke River. His preservation was very singular,
equally so that he should have come out at the right place. Mr. Bowen
took the stranger in and gave him a hearty welcome. He was a member of
the Church of England, and learning his guest was a minister, proposed
prayer. The preacher prayed with so much power that he was invited to
preach at Mr. Bowen’s house. On his return from Virginia he did so, and
the people were so pleased with his sermon that Mr. Bowen’s house became
a regular preaching place. Thus Methodism was singularly introduced in
that section of the country.
Jepthah Bowen was converted and many others, and a society was early
formed at his house. He lived long enough to see the frame of a new house
of worship erected that bore his name, Bowen’s Chapel. This led to the
formation of several societies in that region, and to the conversion
of multitudes. Mr. Bowen’s was the first house opened for Methodist
preaching in Worcester County. In after years I was entertained by his
aged widow at the old homestead. His children and children’s children
were blessed, being the descendants of those who entertained the Lord’s
prophets.
The Rev. Freeborn Garrettson was lost in this swamp in 1779. After
wandering for a long time, night overtook him. It was quite dark, and to
add to the gloom, the rain descended in torrents. He was about to take
lodgings upon the cold, wet ground, when, to his great joy, he discovered
a light at a distance, and following it, he found a house where he was
kindly entertained. The man with whom he stayed thought his guest was an
angel, and he surveyed him from head to foot, and then inquired, “What
are you, and who are you? for I am sure I never saw such a man as you
appear to be.” Mr. Garrettson answered, “I am a follower of our blessed
Saviour.”
The woman of the house had been peculiarly afflicted for sixteen days;
she had neither eaten nor drunk. There were many who went to see her die,
when she suddenly rose in the bed and exclaimed, “You thought mine a
disorder of the body, but it was not; now I know my Maker loves me.” She
was very happy, and said she knew Mr. Garrettson was a man of God, one
whom the Lord had sent to reform the world. His visit to the family at
that time was a great blessing.
Another anecdote related by Mr. Garrettson will illustrate the ignorance
of some of the people. He met a man in the region of the Cypress Swamp,
and asked him if he was acquainted with Jesus Christ. “Sir,” said he, “I
know not where the gentleman lives.” Mr. Garrettson, supposing the man
misunderstood him, repeated his question, and to the astonishment of Mr.
G. he replied, “I don’t know the man.”
I was glad to travel with my friend William Colbert, who had been so
often at my father’s house. He was an eminent revivalist. Our circuit was
nearly two hundred miles round. There were several houses of worship:
Bowen’s Chapel, Miles’s Chapel, Curtis’s Chapel, St. Martin’s Chapel, and
Sound Meeting-house. I have a record of all the members. Nathaniel Bowen,
a descendant of Jepthah, had thirty-one members in his class, five by the
name of Bowen.
We preached against slavery, and persuaded our brethren and those who
were converted to liberate their slaves, and we were often successful.
There was a revival both among the white and colored. Many slaves were
made “free” by “the Son,” and they enjoyed the liberty of the soul.
We preached at Snow Hill. It was formerly a wretched place where the
traffic in negroes was carried on. The Georgia traders in human flesh
came there and bought slaves, and then took them south and sold them.
Methodism made a mighty change here and destroyed this inhuman traffic.
Snow Hill for years has been a prominent place for Methodism. People
often fell under the word. George Ward, a local preacher, who married
Harry Ennalls’s sister, resided here. When I was preaching at his house
Sister Ward fell under the power. She was a woman of fine intellect,
therefore I name it because some think that none but persons of weak
minds are thus affected. At Brother Ward’s house we used to preach, and
there we formed the first class at Snow Hill. Henry White, so long an
honored member of the Philadelphia Conference, frequently a delegate to
the General Conference, I had the honor of taking into the Church while
on this circuit. I also knew his father, Southy White. He was a good man,
and an excellent local preacher. I preached at his house, and was his
guest. He died the year I was on that circuit. I knew many of the fathers
in the Methodist ministry, and have lived not only to bury the fathers,
but many of their sons.
John Phœbus’s at Quantico Neck was another of our preaching places. He
was the brother of Dr. William Phœbus, so long known in New York for his
talents and his eccentricities. The doctor went out into the ministry
from that section of the country.
We preached also at Brother Lazarus Maddox’s, at Potato Neck. His house
was an excellent home for a wayworn itinerant. On February 14, while
preaching at his house, the power of God came down and Brother Maddox was
struck to the floor, and lay for some time under the divine influence.
Thrilling were the scenes we witnessed. Indeed the whole circuit had a
wall of fire around about it and a glory in the midst. The people got so
happy and shouted so loud they drowned my voice, and leaped for joy, and
sometimes they would fall, lose their strength, and lie for hours in this
condition, and then come to praising the Lord. At several funerals many
were awakened, and in several instances loud shouts were heard at the
grave. This was something entirely new to me.
We also preached at Devil’s Island, as it was called. Deil’s it should
be named. The first time I visited it I preached from “Prepare to meet
thy God.” I had spoken but a few words when twelve were struck under
conviction. I was so pleased I wrote, “The devil will have to give up his
island.”
There was one general revival; the circuit was in a flame. In every
appointment sinners were converted. The Peninsula seemed like the garden
of God. Scenes took place that gladdened the eyes of angels and thrilled
the heart of the Saviour. The Gospel had wonderful power, and the results
were glorious, as the records of eternity will reveal.
To show that I have not over-estimated the work, and to record the
wonderful works of God in those days, I make a few extracts from letters
written by men of God long since in Abraham’s bosom. The first was from
Thomas Ware to Dr. Coke, dated Duck Creek, Delaware, September 12, 1802,
and published in the Arminian Magazine for 1803:
“REV. SIR,—In the year 1800 I was appointed to preside on the
Peninsula. From the time of my entering on that important charge
to the Annual Conference in Philadelphia, May, 1802, above six
thousand souls were added to the Church, most of whom, I trust,
are added to the Lord.... In Milford Circuit have been added one
thousand six hundred members, in Talbot about one thousand, in
Somerset and Annamessex one thousand, and the prospect continues
equally pleasing in that favored country.”
Ezekiel Cooper, in a letter to Dr. Coke dated Philadelphia, September
7, 1801, says: “I have just now received a letter from Brother Colbert,
one of our preachers in Annamessex Circuit. He wrote: ‘Good news from
Pocomoke. The kingdom of hell is falling, the borders of Zion are
enlarging, and glory to God, the prospect of a greater work than we had
last year lies before us. In both circuits, Somerset and Annamessex, the
Lord is powerfully at work; our preaching places or houses are too small
for the congregations, and, two or three places excepted, too small even
for our love-feasts. I believe the Peninsula has never known such a time
as heaven now favors us with. Glory to Jesus on high! we have what is the
most inviting among us, namely, the Lord in power converting sinners, and
the saints feel as if they were sunning in the beams of redeeming love,
overwhelmed with the glorious billows. Some fall motionless, and lie for
some minutes, others for hours, and some for a great part of the night
without the use of their limbs or speech, and then they spring up with
heaven in their eyes and music on their tongues, overwhelmed with love
divine. O, glory to God! this work makes Pocomoke swamps like a blooming
paradise to my soul. If the Lord spares us, I trust that we shall return
to the North giving him glory for another thousand members. One thousand
joined last year. By grace there is a good beginning. To God be all the
praise.’”
Such is the account Brother Colbert gave of the work of God that year I
traveled with him.
John Scott’s was one of our preaching places. He lived near Poplartown,
Worcester County. He was an active and liberal man. He was also
very shrewd; knew how to answer a fool according to his folly. As
he entertained the Methodist preachers and their horses some of his
neighbors predicted that he would be “eaten out of house and home.” It
was a very dry season, and things were parched up. He was a farmer, and
had planted one hundred acres of corn. The crop was likely to be cut off.
On a certain day a cloud came up from the west and the refreshing rain
descended on his fields, but extended no further. His fields were fresh
and green, while those of his neighbors were dry. In the fall when they
were gathering the crops his neighbors expressed astonishment that his
corn should be so much more valuable than theirs. They did not know how
to account for it. He replied that he “had fed the Methodist preachers’
horses.” He left his neighbors to infer that this was one cause of his
prosperity. I have often noticed those families who were not given to
hospitality, and those who have welcomed the messengers of God to their
houses, and the latter have prospered far more than the former. A noble
man was Brother John Scott.
When I was on Hooper’s Island I put up with a Widow Ruack, who was a
member of our Church, and entertained Methodist preachers. She related
to me the following anecdote: “Joseph Everett traveled and preach there.
One day she looked out of her window and saw Mr. Everett coming. She
rejoiced to see the preacher, but was exceedingly mortified that she had
nothing in the house to cook for his dinner, and living on the island, it
was not convenient to get anything, for stores and markets were scarce.
She went out into the door-yard for some wood to make a fire to boil the
tea-kettle. Just that moment something fell at her feet. It was a large
fresh bass that weighed several pounds. She looked up and saw a large
hawk flying over, which had dropped the fish. He had just taken the fish
out of the bay, and finding it heavy, had dropped it in the right place.
She immediately dressed and cooked it for the preacher’s dinner, and he
praised it exceedingly, not having enjoyed such a meal in a long time.”
CHAPTER VIII.
KENT, BRISTOL, AND NORTHAMPTON CIRCUITS.
During the interval between the Baltimore and the Philadelphia Conference
Bishops Asbury and Whatcoat spent some time on the Peninsula. They
visited my circuit, and I had the honor of going with them to the
conference which met in Philadelphia on Saturday, May 1, 1802.
Sunday was a high day in Zion. In the morning, at St. George’s, the
Rev. George Roberts preached a sermon of rare excellence on salvation
by grace through faith. In the afternoon John M’Claskey preached from
Exod. xv, 16, on Israel’s separation from the world, and how it might be
known that God was with his people; not by the descent of manna, but the
pillar and cloud day and night. He showed great ingenuity, and while he
was preaching the baptism of fire descended. In the evening Rev. William
Colbert discoursed on the advantages of an itinerant ministry from “Many
shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased.” It was delivered
with great unction. Colbert was a great little man in the days of his
glory.
This pleasant conference closed the next Friday, and I was appointed to
Kent Circuit with Christopher Sprye. He was a noble colleague, one of
the pioneers of Methodism in New England. This was the oldest circuit
on the Peninsula, being formed in 1774. There were many things on this
circuit of peculiar interest to me. I had the honor of preaching in
Kent’s Meeting-house, the first Methodist house of worship erected on the
Eastern Shore of Maryland.
It was built in 1774, one year after the first conference was held in
America.
This was four miles below Chestertown. The old chapel years ago gave way
to a better structure, now called Hynson’s Chapel, from the name of a
family who resided near it.
The burying-ground connected with this chapel is also a place of
interest, not only because of the old families of Methodism who were
sleeping there, but from its being the last resting-place of ministers
who have fallen at their post. The renowned William Gill, one of our
early preachers, was buried there. He was a man of surpassing genius, of
philosophic mind. Dr. Rush greatly admired him, and pronounced him the
greatest divine he had ever heard. This is no mean praise coming from
such a source. In 1777 he joined the traveling connection, and died in
1789; a short but brilliant career. With his own hands he closed his
eyes, and laid his body down in sure and certain hope of a glorious
resurrection.
In this circuit I formed the acquaintance of Rev. JOHN SMITH, one of
our old preachers, who possessed much of the spirit of the beloved John,
whose name he bore. He was at the famous Christmas Conference of 1784.
He lived in Chestertown, and his house was my home. He was a very genial
old man, and his conversation was agreeable and profitable. I heard him
preach from Psalm xxiv, 3, 4: “Who shall ascend into the hill of the
Lord?” etc. It was a profitable discourse, and much good was done. He
died triumphantly in 1812, exclaiming, “Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly;
take my enraptured soul away. I am not afraid to die. I long to be
dissolved and see the face of God without a dimming vail between: death
has lost his sting.” He was buried beside the grave of William Gill.
The father of SHADRACH BOSTWICK resided on this circuit. Shadrach
Bostwick was one of the mighty men of our Israel. I wonder not that
Bishop Hedding called him a “glorious man;” we have had but few such men.
I first saw and heard him at the General Conference in Baltimore in 1800.
The same spring I went with him to Georgetown, when he was on his way to
see his aged father for the last time.
Dr. Bostwick was born near the head of Chester, in Kent County, Maryland.
In Delaware, Maryland, New Jersey, New England, and Ohio he did noble
service for Methodism, and was everywhere esteemed as “a prince and a
great man.” He emigrated to Ohio, and was a pioneer in more senses than
one. Long since he fell asleep, leaving behind him a name distinguished
for its purity and luster. His father’s house was one of my regular
preaching places on this circuit. In the old homestead where he was born
and spent his early days, and where he was born again, I preached over
sixty years ago the glorious Gospel of the blessed God.
His father was among the oldest Methodists on the Peninsula, and when
his son joined the conference, in 1791, he was “in age and feebleness
extreme.” He died while I was on the circuit.
I wrote thus in my Journal: “_June 23, 1802_, I rode to Father
Bostwick’s; I found him in a low state of health; but the way to the
celestial country appeared bright before him; this enables him to rejoice
in the midst of pain. I preached at his house from ‘Blessed are the
pure in heart, for they shall see God.’ This was a theme adapted to his
character and condition. The old man got happy under the word in the
prospect of seeing God.
“_July 22._ I rode to the aged Father Bostwick’s. When within a quarter
of a mile of the place I met the people returning, who informed me that
the old man lay at the point of death, and, therefore, there could be no
preaching at his house that night. I told them we would have a meeting in
the road where we were. I gave them an exhortation, followed by prayer.
We all knelt down in the street and had a precious time.” I name this
to show the early Methodist ministers lost then no opportunity of doing
good. It was the uniform custom to be “instant in season and out of
season.”
I then went to his house and found the old pilgrim near “The narrow
stream of death.” The next day, as he had somewhat revived, I preached in
his orchard from “Ye know the grace,” etc. I then spent some time with
the dying father. The scene was beautiful, the room full of glory; the
old saint was triumphant. I prayed with him, and then bade him farewell
till we meet in the pilgrim’s home. Before I came round again he was in
Paradise.
The peninsula produced some of the strongest men of Methodism: Shadrach
Bostwick, Caleb Boyer, William Beauchamp, Ezekiel Cooper, Hope Hull, Dr.
William Phœbus, Stephen Martindale, Lawrence McCombs, Lawrence Lawrenson,
Bishop Emory, and many others.
Frequent changes were made at that time in the ministry during the
conference year. I traveled Kent Circuit, with Christopher Sprye, till
August, then my presiding elder removed me to Northampton Circuit,
formerly a part of Bristol. It embraced several counties besides
Northampton, Montgomery, Berks, and others. An exchange was made between
Johnson Dunham and myself. So I went from the low to the high lands. The
contrast was wonderful: the former low, level, and unhealthy; you might
travel a whole day without seeing a hill; the latter, hills, mountains,
and valleys. The change had a fine effect on my health and spirits. I
entered upon my new field of labor with delight. The country was new, the
circuit large and rough.
Bristol Circuit was traveled by Thomas Everard and T. Jones. James
Lattomas was stationed in Wilmington. He was a superior preacher, and in
his day a man of considerable note. He was taken sick, and Brother T.
Jones was sent to fill his place. A relative of Thomas Everard died in
Philadelphia of yellow fever, so he left the circuit, and Bristol and
Northampton were blended into one, and I alone left to travel them. I
found I had enough to do to go round this large territory in three weeks.
I had no time for “rest week,” no time to rust out; but it was happy
toil, and the best of all, God was with me, strengthening me with his
Spirit, and cheering me with his presence.
Jacob Gruber’s birthplace was on this circuit, and I used to stay with
his parents, who lived in Springfield township. I was there in 1798
with my father, who was on a ministerial tour. Jacob’s father belonged
to the United Brethren; his mother, and brother Peter, and sister were
Methodists. I knew the family well. They were exceedingly industrious and
economical. Jacob was converted, as we have seen, under Simon Miller,
and from this place he went out to travel. He was highly esteemed in his
neighborhood, but met with great opposition from his father when he
joined the Methodists. He had a very ready utterance, with quite a German
accent. I shall say more about him hereafter, as he was my colleague.
There was a house of worship in the neighborhood called Bryan’s
Meeting-house, named after Brother Bryan, who was a man of standing and
influence. He was formerly a deist, but was converted under the labors of
Dr. William P. Chandler.
I preached in Stroudsburg, now the county seat of Monroe. It took its
name from Colonel Jacob Stroud, who was the first settler, and owned four
thousand acres of land. He was colonel in the Revolutionary army, and
commanded at Fort Penn, which stood where the village of Stroudsburgh is
now. This was the first settlement reached by the unfortunate fugitives
from Wyoming after the terrible slaughter of July, 1778. I knew Colonel
Stroud well, for he kept a public-house, and I often put up with him,
and his house was a regular preaching place. We preached there on
Sunday mornings. The colonel was a short, thick-set man, and much of a
gentleman, and a thorough business man. His wife was an excellent woman,
and a member of our Church.
The colonel was very friendly, very courteous, but not religious. I went
to his house to preach one Sabbath morning, and arriving before the hour
of service, I was kindly invited into a private room. The colonel came
in, and, after wishing me good morning, I inquired after the state of his
health. He answered, “As hearty as a buck, but I do not like this dying.
I believe God made man to live forever.” I replied, “I believe that too,
but sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and now it is appointed
unto all men once to die.” He looked thoughtful, but made no reply, and
left the room. A few minutes after I began the service, and the colonel
was one of my auditors, for he was always present at the preaching, and a
very attentive hearer. He was then an old man, and yet he did not like to
think of death. He died three years after, in 1806.
My excellent friend and brother, William Colbert, in November, 1804,
married Colonel Stroud’s daughter Elizabeth. As I was so well acquainted
in the family, and he and myself such intimate friends, he consulted
me concerning the step he was about to take. I knew how deeply he was
in love, and said I could give him no better advice than I saw in the
almanac: “If you marry, you will be sorry; if you do not, you will be
sorry.” He smiled, and said, “You have now fixed me.” A few months after
he was married, and I never heard he was sorry. She made him an excellent
helpmate, and William and Elizabeth “walked in all the commandments and
ordinances of the Lord blameless,” till death separated them, in 1833.
Then Elizabeth was left a widow, and William went up to receive his crown.
Another of my preaching places was at Father Broadhead’s, in Smithfield,
Northampton County. There was a place called “Broadhead Settlement,”
and there is a stream called “Broadhead Creek,” They probably were
so called from General Broadhead, who distinguished himself first in
the Indian wars, and afterward in the Revolution. Here the Rev. John
Broadhead, a descendant of his, was born and converted, and began to
preach, and from this place entered the traveling connection. It was at
his uncle’s I preached, and there were a number of his relatives in the
neighborhood. He entered the traveling connection in 1794, and after
having accomplished a noble work, died with his armor on, April 7, 1838.
No name in the annals of New England Methodism shines brighter than
John Broadhead’s; none will be more enduring. He was a man of imposing
appearance, a dignified Christian minister, and a model preacher. In 1800
I became acquainted with him, and in after years, when at the New England
Conferences, I saw him and heard him preach.
I preached also at Bristol, a beautiful place on the banks of the
Delaware, twenty miles from Philadelphia. We had a small class there,
and I preached in the old Episcopal church. The Episcopalians had no
minister and no preaching, therefore they permitted us to occupy it. This
was the case then almost everywhere in that part of the country, but it
is very different now. Our people some years before had begun to erect
a brick edifice in Bristol. The walls were up, but the roof was not on.
They began to build, but were not able to finish; so it stood for several
years. We circulated a subscription, raised the money, and completed the
edifice, and I had the honor of dedicating it on March 12, 1803. My text
was 1 Peter iii, 12. I made this record: “I preached to one hundred and
seventy, who appeared remarkably attentive. The Lord truly let us feel
the evidence of his approbation.”
I see by the last Minutes that we now have in Bristol 204 members and 191
probationers, and a church edifice worth $10,000. There is a great change
since I was there in 1803.
Then I went to Germantown, and John M’Claskey preached for me. His text
was 2 Kings v, 14: “Then he went down and dipped himself seven times
in Jordan,” etc. His sermon was original and full of interest. A great
preacher was John M’Claskey in the days of his strength. He was one
of the noblest looking men in the pulpit I ever saw. His commanding
appearance, beautiful flowing locks, and magnificent voice made him quite
an object of attraction.
On July 1 I went to Philadelphia and preached at Zoar, and lodged with
Brother D. Doughty. The next evening I heard Thomas F. Sargent preach at
the Bethel on “the stone which the builders rejected.” His sermon showed
him to be a workman that needeth not to be ashamed.
Near the close of this conference year I received a letter from William
Colbert requesting me to take a tour with him through the Peninsula
previous to the session of our conference. I could not have been better
pleased than at the opportunity to revisit with such a man the scenes of
our former labors and triumphs.
On April 7 we started for Annamessex and St. Martin’s Circuits. Again we
witnessed the mighty displays of the mercy and power of God. Multitudes
were converted; among them many Africans. Brother Colbert preached at
that time with great efficiency. He moved the masses as the wind does the
wheat in summer. I have a list of all his texts and themes. He showed
great wisdom in their selection. At every place we were hailed with
delight. After many days of traveling, on April 30 we reached Dover, and
were the guests of the Hon. Richard Bassett.
Bishop Asbury being sick, and not able to fill his appointment, Ezekiel
Cooper held forth, and then Brother Colbert gave a narrative of the work
of God on Albany District, over which he had presided during the year,
and of the hundreds who were flocking to Jesus in the north, and while he
was so doing the holy fire began to kindle on the altar of many hearts.
Joseph Jewell from Canada gave an account of the work of God on his
district, which was like good news from a far country, and the people
were much refreshed. We had no periodicals then, and this is the way
religious intelligence was communicated. What a different age we live
in now, when we have so many “Advocates” and other religious journals.
The reader will get an idea of the extent of the work when he learns
that in what was then the Albany District there are now several annual
conferences. This district and Canada then belonged to the Philadelphia
Conference.
Bishop Whatcoat arrived and preached at four o’clock one of his rich
sermons, on all things working for good to them that love God. Richard
Sneath exhorted. In the evening James Moore preached from Rom. viii, 18:
“I reckon the sufferings of the present time,” etc. There was a general
move in the congregation, and some professed to be converted.
On Sunday, May 1, Bishop Whatcoat preached from 1 Peter iii, 5, on being
“clothed with humility.” It was a melting time. Few men could move
and melt an audience like Bishop Whatcoat. His own heart was made of
tenderness, and no wonder those felt who listened to him.
I never saw a more general move in a congregation under the word than on
that day. Many were awakened, and we spent hours with those in distress.
Several were converted, and the shouts of joy and songs of triumph were
heard afar off. The meeting continued from nine in the morning till three
in the afternoon without intermission. The recollection of such days of
power and glory is enough to make an old man renew his youth.
CHAPTER IX.
PHILADELPHIA CONFERENCE, 1803—BRISTOL CIRCUIT.
The Philadelphia Conference met at Duck Creek Cross Roads, now Smyrna, in
May, 1803, in the meeting-house of the Friends, so that we could have our
own to preach in. This we did several times a day.
Methodism was introduced into this place in 1779. Among the early
Methodists here was Joseph Wyatt, who joined the conference in 1781,
and located in 1788. His house was the preaching place till the church
was built. Also, Alexander M’Lane, who gave the site on which the
church was built; he and his wife were excellent members. He was an old
Revolutionary soldier under Washington, as well as a valiant soldier
under the great Captain of our salvation. He was father of the Hon. Louis
M’Lane, a member of General Jackson’s cabinet and minister to England,
and of Robert M’Lane, minister to Mexico, both of whom were baptized by
Bishop Asbury. I was well acquainted with this family. Near their farm
lived Sarah, daughter of Thomas White, Bishop Asbury’s early friend. She
married Dr. Cook, who became a prominent Methodist. George Kennard was
also a pillar in the infant Church, and his house was my home during
conference.
At Brother Kennard’s I met my dear aged father, who had come to attend
the conference. I made this record: “Glory to God that we are brought to
see each others’ faces in the land of hope.”
On Monday, May 2, the conference commenced its session. In the evening
Brother Richard Swain[7] preached from, “To-day shalt thou be with me
in Paradise.” A glorious time: my soul, magnify thou the Lord. We had a
powerful prayer-meeting at six in the morning. It was the custom in those
days to have a prayer meeting early in the morning during conference, and
they were refreshing seasons. Preachers and people were in the habit of
rising earlier than they do now; they had not learned to turn midnight
into noon.
I heard, during the session, a number of admirable sermons: one from
Richard Sneath, on Matt, vi, 10, “Thy kingdom come;” another by Thomas
Foster, from Isaiah xlv, 18, a profitable and pointed discourse; the
power of God rested on the congregation. I also heard “Black Harry,” who
traveled with Bishop Asbury and Freeborn Garrettson. He was a perfect
character; could neither read nor write, and yet was very eloquent. His
text was, “Man goeth to his long home;” his sermon was one of great
eloquence and power. The preachers listened to this son of Ham with great
wonder, attention, and profit. I shall say something more concerning him.
I made this record in my journal: “Throughout the whole this was a
comfortable and profitable conference; the business was done in love
and harmony. The conference continued _four_ days. There were about
one hundred preachers. Bishops Asbury and Whatcoat were both present.
Twenty-four were ordained: twelve deacons and twelve elders.”
Bishop Whatcoat preached from 1 Peter v, 10: “But the God of all grace,
who hath called us to his eternal glory,” etc. The sermon was most
powerful. It was one of the most melting times I ever witnessed; the
theme suited him. I was ordained a deacon at this conference, and took
the solemn vows of God upon me. I was in the regular succession, for I
was ordained by Richard Whatcoat, who was ordained by Wesley. Of the
twenty-four who were ordained at the conference, and the venerated
bishops who presided, not one remains but myself; the rest sleep in
honored sepulchers.
BLACK HARRY.
Having heard this African preach, I have been asked a great many
questions concerning him. The preaching of a colored man was, in those
days, a novelty. Harry traveled with Bishop Asbury as early as 1782;
also with Dr. Coke, Bishop Whatcoat, and Freeborn Garrettson. Crowds
flocked to hear him, not only because he was a colored man, but because
he was eloquent. Mr. Asbury wished him to travel with him for the benefit
of the colored people.
Some inquire whether he was really black, or whether Anglo-Saxon blood
was not mixed in his veins? Harry was very black, an African of the
Africans. He was so illiterate he could not read a word. He would repeat
the hymn as if reading it, and quote his text with great accuracy. His
voice was musical, and his tongue as the pen of a ready writer. He was
unboundedly popular, and many would rather hear him than the bishops.
In 1790 he traveled with Mr. Garrettson through New England and a part
of New York. In Hudson Mr. Garrettson says: “I found the people curious
to hear Harry. I therefore declined, that their curiosity might be
satisfied. The different denominations heard him with much admiration,
and the Quakers thought, as he was unlearned, he must speak by immediate
inspiration.” Another time he says: “Harry exhorted after me to the
admiration of the people.” Again, near Gen. Van Courtland’s, he says:
“The people of this circuit are amazingly fond of hearing Harry.” In
Canaan, Conn., Mr. Garrettson preached, and says: “Harry preached after
me with much applause.” The same afternoon Mr. Garrettson preached in
Salisbury, and adds: “I have never seen so tender a meeting in this town
before, for a general weeping ran through the congregation, especially
when Harry gave an exhortation.”
Dr. Rush heard him and admired his eloquence. Dr. Coke heard him preach,
soon after his arrival in America, on the Peninsula, and said, “I am well
pleased with Harry’s preaching.”
’Tis painful to mar a picture so beautiful. Gladly I will leave it as
it is. But, alas! poor Harry was so petted and made so much of that he
became lifted up. Falling under the influence of strong drink, he made
shipwreck of the faith, and for years he remained in this condition. He
was afterward reclaimed, and died in peace in Philadelphia in 1810, and
was buried in Kensington.
BRISTOL CIRCUIT IN 1803.
I was appointed this year to Bristol Circuit; John Bethel was my
colleague. I rode home to Lancaster with my venerable father. We were
accompanied by several preachers: Jacob Gruber, James Ridgeway, J.
Dunham, Gideon Draper, and Benjamin Bidlack, the latter so graphically
described by Dr. Peck. We had preaching every night.
Before I returned to my circuit I took a tour with my father. We went to
New Holland and tarried with John Davis. On Sunday my father preached,
as he always did, in German, from “The Spirit and the Bride say, Come,”
etc. After the sermon the Lord’s Supper was administered, and Jesus was
made known to us in the breaking of bread.
On May 18, after these seasons of refreshing, I started for my circuit
full of the spirit of my Master. I went to Germantown, then to Tullytown.
I preached there on the 28th on “Acquaint now thyself with God,” etc. At
the conclusion of the sermon a man who was intoxicated reeled into the
school-house with a tumbler full of strong drink, and offered it to me.
The tavern was opposite the school-house, and a number of “lewd fellows
of the baser sort” had gathered there. They could have had no idea that
I would drink of their fire-water. They wanted some fun with a Methodist
preacher, or to discourage him so that he would not come again.
I preached also in Germantown. This place is within ten years as old as
Philadelphia. It was called Germantown because it was founded by Germans.
They were from the Palatinate.
Germantown was the birthplace of David Rittenhouse the astronomer.
Often have I seen the old house where he was born, and the mill where
he studied his first lessons. His father was a paper manufacturer. My
father preached in Germantown for many years, and was well acquainted
with the Rittenhouses. The old people were Mennonites, and hence their
acquaintance with my father, who was a Mennonite preacher.
In 1802-3 the Methodists had had scarcely a foothold in Germantown. There
was a small class, but the members were poor and of but little influence.
They had preached in the school-house, but were now excluded from it.
This was from prejudice against “a sect everywhere spoken against.” I
concluded we ought to have a church of our own there where we could
preach the Gospel without the fear of the doors being closed against us.
It was in my parish, and I felt the importance of cultivating this part
of Immanuel’s land.
Brother Ezekiel Cooper was book agent in Philadelphia. I went and
informed him of the state of things, and he advised me to circulate a
subscription to build a church. He wrote a subscription, and I circulated
it. I do not wish to boast, but simply to state a fact: the preacher in
charge had a salary of eighty dollars, and he headed the subscription
with forty dollars.
In my journal, February 9, 1803, I wrote: “In Germantown I tried to
get a meeting-house started. We got upward of one hundred dollars on
subscription in part of one day. If we had only one or two leading men
the work, I believe, would go on.” I even prayed for them, for this
follows: “O Lord, the hearts of all men are in thy hands; do thou look in
mercy upon us.” Has not this prayer, offered fifty-nine years ago, been
answered?
Several hundred dollars were soon after subscribed, and we immediately
secured a site and prepared for the erection of a small house. We
appointed a committee to superintend the erection of the building. It
consisted of five persons: two members of the Church, and three who were
not members. The appointment of a majority of outsiders on the committee
showed two things: 1. The scarcity of Methodist timber for material. 2.
The friendly feeling of others toward this new enterprise. I made a short
visit to Philadelphia, and on my return I jotted down the following: “I
came back to Germantown, where I met the committee. They all seemed to
be in good spirits about the meeting-house. O may the Lord prosper his
blessed work in this town!”
In circulating the subscription among the Germans it greatly aided me
when they learned I was a son of “Elder Boehm.” My father had preached
there years before, and they were pleased with him, and many of them
gave me a ten-dollar subscription for our new church. Soon after some
influential families were converted, which gave character and stability
to Methodism in this place. Such was the origin of the first Methodist
house of worship in Germantown. It is now a large place, and an arm of
Philadelphia. The Methodists have there two churches: 483 members, and
116 probationers; in all, 509, and Church property worth $36,000.
What a mighty change since the school-house was closed against us, and
we, like Noah’s dove, found no rest for the sole of our foot! To God be
all the glory.
Some striking incidents occurred on this circuit. Near Bristol there
was a wild, fast young man, who was awakened under very singular
circumstances. He wished to frighten some of the neighbors on their
way from meeting; so one night he fastened some horns on his head, and
covered himself with the skin of a beast with the hair on, and said he
was the devil; but instead of frightening others, he frightened himself,
and resolved to leave the service of the devil and become a servant of
God.
I preached at Mr. Heath’s, a little below Morrisville. There were two
brothers, who were mechanics, and in partnership, working in a shop
about forty yards from the preaching place. One got ready for meeting,
and asked his brother if he would not go. He said he could not spare the
time, and added, “You had better stick to your work also.” He replied,
“I am determined to go to meeting, let the consequences be as they may.”
After he was gone the brother who stayed home with a determination
to work was suddenly taken sick with a violent fever, and instead of
working, he was not able to help himself even to a drink of water, and he
was in perfect misery all the time his brother was gone. As soon as his
brother returned the fever left him, and he was able to join his brother
in work. When I came round on the circuit the same thing occurred over
again, that made it still more strange. At the next appointment for
preaching both the brothers went to hear the word, and we were invited to
make their shop a regular preaching-place, which we did, as it was much
more convenient than the other.
Near Morristown, on this circuit, a house of worship had been erected by
the Rev. Mr. Demer, who also built the Forrest Chapel in Berks County.
He was a Swedish minister. When he first heard the Rev. Joseph Pilmoor,
one of Mr. Wesley’s missionaries, preach in Philadelphia, he welcomed
him as a minister of God preaching the truth as it was in Jesus, and
after a time his Church property and the society were transferred to the
Methodists. My colleague and myself used to preach there.
There was a serious difficulty among some of the most prominent members
and families which threatened the destruction of the society. Various
attempts had been made to settle it, but all to no purpose; the storm
still raged. My colleague, Thomas Everhard, tried, but it was labor in
vain. I resolved, as the charge then devolved on me, in the name of the
God of peace to try and settle the affair. I knew that if we did not it
would destroy that Church root and branch, and that “Ichabod” would soon
be written upon the deserted wall of their sanctuary. When I came round
I found the society all at logger-heads. It was a perfect Babel. I was
young in the ministry, and greatly exercised to know how to restore
peace. I preached, and the society came together afterward, and each
opened his budget of grievances. And after searching into the origin of
the difficulty, I found it was much ado about nothing. It commenced with
evil surmising, and this led to evil words. My impression was it could
never be settled in the ordinary way, for there was nothing definite;
there were no tangible points. I then told them I had a plan for
disposing of the whole matter at once. I told them my plan was that all
should agree to settle the difficulty at once and forever by burying it
very deep. Both parties with tears agreed to it. We dug its grave deep,
we buried it, and then prayed that it might never have a resurrection.
There was not a single mourner at the funeral, but a general rejoicing.
I invited all who were in favor of burying it and living hereafter in
Christian fellowship to rise. They all stood up; tears flowed freely;
they embraced and forgave each other. Best of all, it stayed settled.
They did not in burying the hatchet leave the handle sticking out so
that they could get hold of it and renew the war, but buried handle and
all. The old people have been gathered to their fathers. They lived and
died in peace and harmony, and to this day their children and children’s
children bless me. I saw one of the sons years after, and he spoke with
gratitude of the day when that old difficulty was buried, and when Zion
became a quiet habitation.
This was at Supplee’s Chapel, the oldest Methodist house of worship in
Pennsylvania except St. George’s. Joseph Pilmoor early preached here. The
Supplees also heard Captain Webb. Abraham Supplee was a local preacher.
I was often his guest. This chapel was used as a hospital for our sick
and wounded soldiers after the battle of Germantown, and a number of the
soldiers died and were buried here. Several of the officers made Abraham
Supplee’s house their home. Washington was often there, having his
headquarters in the neighborhood.
It was an old stone chapel, and was afterward called Bethel. Many of
our early chapels were built of stone, which was abundant, cheap, and
durable. Indeed, the first Methodist chapel in America was built of
stone, namely, Wesley Chapel in New York.
CHAPTER X.
SHORT TOUR WITH BISHOP ASBURY, 1803.
Bishops Asbury and Whatcoat visited my circuit on the 18th of July.
Bishop Whatcoat preached in Bristol, and Bishop Asbury in Burlington;
after which I rode with the bishops to Philadelphia, in company with
Thomas F. Sargent and Oliver Beale. Bishop Asbury said he wished me to
travel with him, so I left all, for in that day the bishop said “go, and
he goeth; come, and he cometh.” I heard the bishop, George Roberts, and
T. F. Sargent preach before I left Philadelphia. The bishops moved on in
advance of me, and I overtook them at Soudersburg. Here Bishop Asbury
preached from Psalm li, 9-12, on “a clean heart and a right spirit.”
Bishop Whatcoat exhorted after him.
Bishop Whatcoat had designed to go the western route, but he became so
feeble that Asbury was obliged to proceed without him.
We went first to Columbia, then to Little York, then to Hollow Pence’s, a
little distance from York. The bishop preached in every place. At Brother
Pence’s, Brother Wilson Lee met us. After the bishop’s sermon he exhorted
with great effect, and there was a shaking among the dry bones. From
thence we had his company for some days. He was the presiding elder,
and when the bishop entered a district the elder generally accompanied
him. Next we went to Carlisle, to quarterly meeting. On Saturday Bishop
Asbury preached at eleven, from Col. iii, 12, 13; at night Wilson Lee,
from Joshua iii, 5, “Sanctify yourselves, for to-morrow the Lord will do
wonders among you.” This was indeed a preparation sermon for the wonders
of the morrow.
On Sunday morning we had a prayer-meeting at sunrise. It was a joyful
season. At eight o’clock James Smith preached from Acts xiii, 26; at
eleven, Bishop Asbury preached with life and power from 2 Cor. iv, 2,
“But have renounced the hidden things of dishonesty,” etc. At four,
Wilson Lee preached from 2 Cor. x, 3-9, on the weapons of our warfare.
Brother Fidler preached in the evening. We had four sermons, besides
a prayer-meeting at sunrise. That was a great day in Carlisle; crowds
attended to hear the word.
The next day we went to David Snyder’s, where the bishop preached from
2 Tim. iv, 7, 8, “I have fought a good fight.” Wilson Lee exhorted. I
wrote, “Glory to God, this was a comfortable season.” In the afternoon we
went to Shippensburgh, where the bishop preached in the evening from 1
Peter iii, 15, 16, on the “reason of the hope” within you. I wrote thus:
“It is remarkable to see what labors our father in the Gospel undergoes.
I think there is not a traveling preacher in the connection that goes
through more fatigue. His extreme toil and labor eclipses the most
zealous among us.”
On Wednesday Brother Lee left us, and I went on with the bishop over the
mountains and rocks till we reached Bedford County, Pennsylvania. We then
went over the Dry Ridge and the Alleghany Hills singing the praises of
the Most High. We stopped in Berlin, Somerset County, on the top of the
mountains. I preached in German, and the bishop exhorted.
Here, on the top of the Alleghany Mountains, I parted with the bishop,
on the 5th of August, having been with him fourteen days, and heard him
preach eight times. He always loved the Germans, and as I could preach
in that language, and few at that time could, he said to me, “Henry,
you had better return and preach to the Germans, and I will pursue my
journey alone.” He did not send me back to Bristol, but to Dauphin, there
being more Germans on that circuit. The bishop gave me his blessing, and
with tears I bade him adieu, and he turned his face westward and I went
eastward. Years after I crossed the Alleghanies several times with the
bishop; I did something more than go to the top and look over at the
mighty West.
The bishop, when I parted with him, was feeble in body, but in a blessed
state of mind, as will be seen by an entry in his journal the next
Tuesday after we separated. He says: “Although much afflicted, I felt
wholly given up to do or suffer the will of God; to be sick or well,
and to live or die, at any time and in any place—the fields, the woods,
the house, or the wilderness: glory be to God for such resignation! I
have but little to leave except a journey of five thousand miles a year,
the care of more than a hundred thousand souls, and the arrangement of
about four hundred preachers yearly, to which I may add the murmurs and
discontent of ministers and people. Who wants this legacy? Those who do
are welcome to it for me!” Many might covet the honor, but few the toils
and the sacrifices. The office of bishop was no sinecure in those days.
At the time frequent changes in the ministry were made by the bishops
during the interval of conference, but they did not always appear in the
Minutes. Most of the preachers were single men, and could move without
much trouble. My name in the Minutes that year does not stand connected
with Bristol Circuit, but Dauphin. Thus: “Dauphin, Jacob Gruber, Henry
Boehm.”
On Sunday, August 7, I went to a quarterly meeting held at Fort Littleton
by Wilson Lee, presiding elder of Baltimore district. There was an
excellent love-feast at nine o’clock, at which Brother Lee presided. It
was the only time I was in a love-feast with that heavenly-minded man.
Brother Lee was very ill, and urged me to preach. In the name and fear
of my Lord I undertook it. My text was 1 Peter iii, 12: “For the eyes of
the Lord are over the righteous,” etc. I was blessed with great liberty.
God’s power was felt in the sanctuary; the house echoed with songs of
joy and shouts of triumph all through the sermon, but the Lord gave me
strength to keep my voice above the rest. There was not only a shout of
the king in the camp, but the power of God so rested upon the people
that many of them fell both speechless and helpless. It reminded me of
the exhibitions of power I had seen in the Peninsula. Four souls were
converted during this meeting.
On Tuesday, the 9th, we came to Shippensburgh. Here Brother Lee and I
bade each other farewell. The refreshing seasons we had together I have
not forgotten, and his image for over half a century has been before me.
I had heard him preach in Philadelphia, in 1797, at St. George’s, when
he was stationed there. He was a tall, slender man, had a musical voice,
and his delivery was very agreeable. He was one of the great men of
Methodism, and a great favorite of Mr. Asbury.
Bishop Asbury saw him but once after this, and that was on the 27th
of April, 1804, on his return from the south. He says: “We came to
Georgetown, and I visited Wilson Lee, ill with a bleeding of the lungs.”
Mr. Lee lingered till autumn, and on the 4th of October he died at Walter
Worthington’s, in Anne Arundel County, Maryland, in the forty-third year
of his age.
CHAPTER XI.
DAUPHIN CIRCUIT, 1803-4.
This circuit was very large, and the people were mostly Germans. We had
thirty appointments, and at twenty of them we preached in German. Under
the first sermon I preached in German one was converted. After a time
it was as easy to preach in the one language as the other. Jacob Gruber
was my colleague, and we both preached in our vernacular. We held union,
or what were called “friendly meetings,” where the Methodists and the
“United Brethren in Christ” met in harmony, and the ministers took turns
in preaching. These were meetings of great interest to the Methodists. It
gave them access to many they could not otherwise have reached.
We held one of these meetings in Columbia in August. Multitudes were
present. James Thomas preached the first sermon;[8] then my father
preached in German from Gal. vi, 15, 16; then I preached in English from
Isa. liv, 13. Thus we had three sermons in the forenoon without any
intermission. In the afternoon three of the United Brethren held forth:
Smith, Hershy, and Shaefer.
To show how we worked at that day I will give an account of a few days
with Jacob Gruber. At Johnstown, on Sunday, August 28, Brother Gruber
preached at eight o’clock in German on Christ and him crucified. At
twelve he preached again on “the Lord openeth the eyes of the blind.”
I exhorted both times, and at four o’clock preached at Millerstown in
English from Acts x, 35. Brother Gruber exhorted in German. We lodged
at Henry Myers’s. On Monday evening Brother Gruber preached in German
on the way of life and the way of death, and I exhorted in English.
On Tuesday we went to Harrisburgh, but on our way there I preached at
Brother Neiding’s, one of the ministers of the United Brethren, in
German, from Psalm xix, 11: “And in keeping of them there is great
reward.” Brother Gruber exhorted. This was a melting time. At night
Brother Gruber preached in Harrisburgh on Felix trembling, a sermon full
of alarm to delayers. He preached in German, and I exhorted in English.
It was necessary that we should do so, for we had a mixed congregation.
I sometimes preached in German, and then interpreted it in English; at
other times I would preach in English, and then give the same sermon in
German.
On Monday, September 5, I wrote: “I begin to feel as if I should be
able to give the devil some heavy blows in my mother tongue before all
is over.” I was greatly encouraged among the Germans, as will be seen
by another extract. “September 14. The prospect is good in almost every
preaching place. I feel as if the Lord was about doing a great work among
the Germans. Glory to God, the fields are blossoming, and I begin to feel
more liberty in preaching in my mother tongue.”
In October I attended a meeting of the United Brethren at George
Zoeler’s, west of Reading. I heard some of their great preachers: Father
Tracksel, Newcomer, Kemp, and Gueting. I greatly profited by their
preaching; it was a fine school for me.
On October 22 the yearly meeting of the United Brethren was held at my
father’s. Quite a number were converted during the meeting, and others
were filled with the wine of the kingdom. Their meetings generally lasted
three days, and were seasons of great interest.
I had made an appointment to preach in the court-house at Reading, but
the commissioner refused to give up the key, so a large number who
had assembled were disappointed. There was in this town a deep-rooted
prejudice against the Methodists, which continued for years. When I
passed through Reading in 1810 with Bishop Asbury the boys laughed at us,
and said, “There go the Methodist preachers.” They knew us by our garb,
and perhaps thought it no harm to ridicule us. In 1822, when on Lancaster
Circuit, I succeeded in planting Methodism in Reading, and formed the
first class there, where I had been shut out a score of years before.
This I considered quite a triumph. We then put up at a public-house,
for there was no family to entertain us. Some young men rented the
school-house for us to preach in, but we still met with much opposition
and ridicule.
There was a shop in the neighborhood of the school-house where some
men used to meet together. One of the company, a young man, undertook
to mimic the Methodists. He went on to show how they acted in their
meetings. He shouted, clapped his hands, and then said he would show how
they fell down. (The Methodists in that day would sometimes fall and lose
their strength.) He then threw himself down on the floor, and lay there
as if asleep. His companions enjoyed the sport; but after he had lain for
some time they wondered why he did not get up. They shook him in order to
awake him. When they saw he did not breathe they turned pale, and sent
for a physician, who examined the man and pronounced him dead. This awful
incident did two things for us. 1. It stopped ridicule and persecution.
Sinners were afraid, and no marvel: “Behold, ye despisers, and wonder,
and perish,” etc. 2. It also gave us favor in the sight of the people.
They believed that God was for us, and if he would thus vindicate us we
must be the people of God.
Little do the present Methodists of Reading know of our early struggles
and difficulties. Now they have two churches, Ebenezer and St. Paul’s,
and Reading is the head of a district, which is not larger than my
circuit in 1803.
Harrisburgh was another of our preaching places. I was in the
neighborhood of where Harrisburgh now is in 1793. It was then called
“Harris’s Ferry,” from John Harris, its founder, whose grave is there.
In 1803 it was a small place, and Lancaster was then the capital of
Pennsylvania. We had very hard work to get a foothold in Harrisburgh.
We preached mostly in German, and had only a small class in 1803. In my
journal I wrote most discouragingly, as will be seen by the following
extracts: “Friday, November 11, 1803, I preached to a few from Gal. vi,
9. Hard work in this town rowing against wind and tide; but I trust in
the Captain of my salvation.” Again: “Friday, April 6, I preached in
Harrisburgh. The people in this town are the next thing to inaccessible.”
Harrisburgh was then a small village; it did not become a borough till
five years after I was there. We did not then cross the Susquehanna on a
bridge that cost $150,000, but in an old scow. Horse-boats were not then
in existence. Most of the inhabitants were Germans.
We were kindly entertained at Friend Zollinger’s, a very fine family,
who afterward became Methodists. What has God wrought? Now we have in
Harrisburgh five hundred members and forty-eight probationers, and a
beautiful church edifice worth nineteen thousand dollars.
Columbia was another of our preaching places. I was at this spot in 1791,
when it was called “Wright’s Ferry,” from John Wright, a Quaker preacher,
who came from England, and was the original land proprietor. Methodism
was introduced here near the close of the last century. In 1803-4 we had
a small society of very lively members, among whom were John Mitchell,
brother of William and James Mitchell, traveling preachers, Brother
Gough, an Englishman, and others. In Columbia we have now a fine house of
worship worth $11,000, a parsonage worth $1,800, and a membership of two
hundred and fifty.
My presiding elder was James Smith, a native of Ireland, and a man of
large frame. There being several of that name in the conference, we used
to call him “Big Jimmy,” to distinguish him from “Baltimore James” and
“Delaware James.” In the days of his glory and strength he was quite a
preacher.
I took a tour with him for several days. He preached in English, and I
immediately translated his sermons into German. There was no other way
by which he could get access to the people or be understood by them,
for many of them had never heard a sermon in English. German was the
pioneer language, and prepared the way for the English. I could have
accomplished but little there if I had not been able to preach in German.
We were all the time breaking up new ground, entering new fields,
stretching ourselves beyond ourselves. It was pioneer work.
My colleague, Jacob Gruber, soon went to another field of labor, and I
was left alone on this large circuit. He was a fine intelligent looking
man, and his countenance often expressed a thing before his tongue
uttered it. He had a German face and a German tongue, and often looked
quizzical. He wore a drab hat, and a suit of gray cut in Quaker style.
With a rough exterior, but a kind heart, it was necessary to know him in
order to appreciate him. A more honest man never lived, a bolder soldier
of the cross never wielded “the sword of the spirit.” As a preacher he
was original and eccentric. His powers of irony, sarcasm, and ridicule
were tremendous, and woe to the poor fellow who got into his hands; he
would wish himself somewhere else. I heard him preach scores of times,
and always admired him; not only for his originality, but at all times
there was a marvelous unction attending his word. He had many spiritual
children, some of whom entered the ministry; among others, Alfred Brunson
of the Wisconsin Conference. I do not mean to justify his eccentricities;
but we should remember religion does not alter our natural constitution.
I might relate many anecdotes respecting him, but have not space.
The Philadelphia Conference of 1804 was held at Soudersburg, commencing
on May 28. At the adjournment of the General Conference, in Baltimore,
Bishop Asbury hastened on to my father’s, and on Sabbath preached in
Boehm’s Chapel. The place was called Soudersburg from Benjamin and Jacob
Souders, the proprietors. They were both Methodists, Benjamin being a
local preacher.
Methodism was introduced here in 1791, and a house of worship was built
in 1801. The conference was held in a private room, at the house of
Benjamin Souders, that the meeting-house might be used for preaching,
which was done three times a day, except on the first day. There were one
hundred and twenty preachers present, and the utmost order and harmony
prevailed. My soul exulted at the idea of a Methodist Conference in my
native county; it was an era in the history of Methodism in that region.
Bishop Asbury preached twice during the session. The influence of the
conference was beneficial in all that region. There were strong men at
the conference, and some very powerful preaching.
I was appointed to Dauphin Circuit. My colleague was Anning Owen, who
had charge of the circuit, greatly to my relief. William Colbert was my
presiding elder.
This, as has been seen, was a large and laborious circuit; it included
Boehm’s Chapel and Lancaster, as well as many other places. We had hard
work to get a foothold in Lancaster, and met with powerful opposition.
Having no church there, we preached in the market, and those of the
baser sort annoyed my colleague and myself exceedingly. Once while I was
preaching, and there was some disturbance, I saw a man coming toward me
from the tavern. He seemed to be full of wrath, and pressed through the
crowd toward my pulpit, which was a butcher’s block, as if he intended
violence. I kept on preaching, throwing out some hot shots, when suddenly
he stopped, his countenance changed, and the lion became a lamb, and I
was preserved from the harm he no doubt intended I should suffer.
Brother Owen had tried to preach there several times, and once they so
interrupted him, and even threatened him, that he bade them farewell,
after telling them his skirts were clear from their blood, and he
literally shook off the dust of his feet as a testimony against them.
Then we abandoned the place, and for three years after no Methodist
preachers visited it. It was not till 1807 I formed a class there, as
will be seen in a following chapter. There was a small class earlier, but
it soon died away.
One of our preaching places was David Musselmen’s. He lived about seven
miles from Lancaster, between that and Marietta. It was a fine family,
and their house one of the choice homes the early ministers loved to
find. There was something very peculiar about his conversion. He was a
Pharisee; thought himself good enough, a little better than most men,
and looked on experimental religion as fanaticism. One day he was in his
field at work, in the summer of 1800, when a storm suddenly gathered,
and the clouds were dark and lowering. His little boy was with him. He
saw they would not have time to reach the house before the rain fell, so
they went under a large walnut tree that stood by the roadside. The rain
fell in torrents; there was a flash of lightning, and quick as thought a
loud peal of thunder followed. The tree was struck, and father and son
fell to the ground, both senseless. When the father recovered he heard
louder thunder—the thunder of Mount Sinai; all his sins were set in order
before him; his guilty soul trembled. He had hoped that his darling boy
was, like himself, only stunned; but, alas! he found he was dead. His
self-righteousness was now all gone, and he cried out, “O Lord, I thank
thee that thou hast taken the innocent and spared the guilty.” There
under the tree, beside his dead son, he knelt down and sought the Lord
with prayer and tears, and the Lord heard and answered. He united with
the Methodist Church, and was a most excellent member. His house was the
pilgrim’s rest, indeed it was a sanctuary, “for there the Lord commanded
the blessing, even life for evermore.” My father, Thomas Burch, myself,
and many others, have preached under his roof “the glorious Gospel of the
blessed God.” He lived faithful many years, and then died happy in the
Lord.
THOMAS and ROBERT BURCH were among my early associates in the Church.
Their mother lived in the neighborhood of my father’s, and belonged to
the society at Boehm’s Chapel, and so did her sons. She had a daughter
who married a preacher. The mother was a woman of intelligence and
decision of character. Years after she lived in Columbia, and I used to
put up with her with Bishop Asbury when I traveled with him. It affords
me pleasure, now she and her sons sleep in the grave, to make a record of
her virtues. They were from Ireland; emigrated to this country in June,
1800, and settled in the neighborhood of my father’s. She was a widow,
having lost her husband several years before. They had been converted
under the ministry of Ireland’s great missionary, Gideon Ouseley, of
whom they often spoke in the most exalted terms. Thomas, the oldest son,
was my father’s and mother’s class-leader. The class met at my father’s
house; it was an old class, formed before I was born. I heard some of his
earliest efforts at exhortation and at preaching. I encouraged him and
his brother Robert to enter the ministry. Robert joined the Philadelphia
Conference in 1804, and Thomas in 1805. I have rode hundreds of miles
with them, attended a great many meetings, and heard them preach scores
of times. They soon occupied some of our most important stations with
honor to themselves and usefulness to the Church. Thomas had a voice
remarkably soft and musical, yet strong. He was one of the most eloquent
and popular preachers of the day. In 1810, when he had been only four
years in the ministry, he was stationed in Philadelphia. His mother at
that time resided with him, and she was delighted with her clerical sons.
To a person who was eulogizing the preaching of Thomas she inquired, “Do
you think that is great? wait till you hear my Robert.” Thomas Burch died
in Brooklyn on August 22, 1849, aged seventy, having been forty-four
years in the ministry. He left a son, Thomas H. Burch, who is a member of
the New York East Conference. Robert Burch was a member of Philadelphia,
Baltimore, and Genesee Conferences. He traveled for a while with Bishop
Asbury. He was a man of fine talent, great simplicity of character, and
honest integrity. He died July 1, 1855, aged seventy-seven.
CHAPTER XII.
BALTIMORE AND PHILADELPHIA CONFERENCES, 1805—ST. MARTIN’S CIRCUIT.
Having a little ecclesiastical business, I attended the Baltimore
Conference in Winchester, Va., on April 1, 1805. I was at Winchester in
1800 with my father, and in 1805 I was the guest of Simon Lauk, Jun.,
who was converted under my father’s labors in 1800. Mine host gave me a
most cordial welcome, and my former colleague, Jacob Gruber, also was
entertained there. He had been transferred to the Baltimore Conference,
where he spent the remainder of his days.
Methodism was early introduced into Winchester. They had a house of
worship there in 1800. Joseph and Christopher Frye were from this place.
They were Germans, but not preaching in that language, soon lost the use
of their native tongue.
On Sunday I heard four sermons: Brother William Page at eight in the
morning, Bishop Asbury at eleven, Bishop Whatcoat at three in the
afternoon, and James Hunter in the evening. The preaching was powerful,
and the results were great.
This was the first time I was permitted to look upon the noble body of
men that composed the Baltimore Conference. There were seventy-four
preachers present. The conference was held in an upper room in the
private house of Brother George Reed. The reason for this was that the
Methodist church was occupied for preaching three times a day. There was
quite a revival during the conference, and a number passed from death
unto life. All but two or three of the preachers that were present have
long since been in their sepulchers.[9]
Here I had the privilege of seeing for the first time the Rev. William
Watters. He was the first American Methodist traveling preacher. I was
not only privileged to see him but to hear him preach. I still remember
his appearance and his theme. He preached on the “Christian armor,” and
I was perfectly delighted while he described, as I never heard before,
the various parts of that armor and their uses. He showed that the armor
was not only defensive but offensive; that we must carry the war into
the enemies’ camp. The sermon was delivered with great unction, and many
resolved under it to be valiant for the truth; to conquer, and then share
in the rewards of victory.
At this conference I first saw and heard Robert R. Roberts, afterward one
of our bishops. He was then a homespun looking man, plainly and coarsely
dressed, and yet his personal appearance and preaching attracted
considerable attention. He had not then graduated to elder’s orders. I
heard him preach from 1 Cor. i, 31: “He that glorieth let him glory in
the Lord.” The sermon was able and eloquent, showing great pulpit power.
This was Mr. Roberts’s first sermon at an annual conference. Bishop
Asbury heard it with great admiration, and he determined to bring the
young preacher forward and give him a more prominent appointment. In 1809
he was appointed to Baltimore, and then to Philadelphia, and so he rose
step by step until he reached the episcopal office.
Most honorable mention I make in my journal of this conference, of
its peace and harmony, of the largeness of the congregations, of the
faithfulness of the preaching, and of the souls converted. In returning
from this conference I had the company of James Hunter and Henry Smith.
Where we stayed over night we went into the woods, and there we wrestled
and prayed together for a deeper baptism of love. Heaven met us in the
grove, and we felt it none other than God’s own house and heaven’s gate.
After riding together three days we separated.
I knew Henry Smith’s father. He resided not far from Winchester. I was at
his house in 1800 with my father. Mr. Smith, the aged, belonged to the
United Brethren, having been converted at one of Mr. Otterbein’s meetings
at Antietam previous to 1789. Both the Methodists and the United
Brethren used to preach at his house.
The Philadelphia Conference met on May 1, 1805, in Chestertown, Md., in
the court-house, that we might occupy the meeting-house for preaching.
My father and Brother Thomas Burch accompanied me to conference. On our
way we attended a quarterly meeting at North East. On Saturday Brother
Colbert preached in the morning, and Anning Owen in the evening. Freeborn
Garrettson preached on Sunday morning a most profitable discourse, and he
again preached at Elkton at five o’clock. This was the first time I heard
him.
The next day we reached Chestertown, and Brother Thomas Burch and I
were kindly entertained at Friend Pope’s. My father having been present
when I was ordained deacon, was desirous to see me invested with full
ministerial powers. Bishops Asbury and Whatcoat were both present.
Alas, it was the last time we ever beheld the venerable form of Richard
Whatcoat presiding in the Philadelphia Conference.
Bishop Whatcoat ordained seven deacons, and after an impressive sermon
from Bishop Asbury from Luke iii, 4, 6, “All flesh shall see the
salvation of God,” six of us were ordained elders in the Church of God:
James Aikins, James Polhemus, John Wiltbank, Asa Smith, Benjamin Iliff,
and Henry Boehm. I can almost feel the hands of the sainted Asbury as
well as of the elders still resting on my head, and hear the echoes of
his voice saying, “The Lord pour upon thee the Holy Ghost for the office
and work of an elder in the Church of God, now committed unto thee by the
imposition of our hands,” etc.
My parchments I have preserved as carefully as if diamonds, the first
bearing the signature of Richard Whatcoat, the other of Francis Asbury.
I was ordained a deacon on May 4, 1803, at Cross Roads, and an elder on
May 5, 1805. I was licensed to preach in Pennsylvania, ordained a deacon
in Delaware, and an elder in Maryland. Except myself, those who were
ordained at this conference have long since gone to rest. Benjamin Iliff
was the first that fell at his post. I used to preach at his father’s
house in Bucks County, below Easton, when on Bristol Circuit. With
Benjamin I took sweet counsel, and together we walked to the house of God
in company. I little thought as we stood at the altar taking the vows
of God upon us that my friend and brother would die before he reached
his appointment. Twenty-four days from that Sabbath he rested from his
labors. He was a good man and a good preacher. His last words were: “_I
have lost sight of the world; come, Lord Jesus, come quickly._”
JAMES POLHEMUS was a pious man, and died in 1827, and was interred at
Woodrow Chapel on Staten Island, where Joseph Totten is sleeping, and
where I expect to myself.
JAMES AIKINS was an Irishman. He came to this country in 1792, and was
converted in Pennsylvania. He died of cancer at Haverstraw in 1823. He
was aware that he was dying, and said to the family with which he was
staying, “I shall die here. God called me into the ministry, and he has
called me out of it. Medical aid cannot save me.”
JOHN WILTBANK was a man of moderate talents. He located in 1813, and died
many years ago, and was buried at Dover.
ASA SMITH was useful, but he was very boisterous in preaching, sometimes
forgetting that bodily exercise profiteth but little. He died in New
Jersey several years ago.
I was appointed to St. Martin’s Circuit with James Ridgeway. I left the
mountains and hills of Dauphin to travel again on the Peninsula. This was
a part of Annamessex Circuit that I had previously traveled.
After visiting my native place I entered upon my interesting field of
labor. Returning I attended a quarterly meeting in Barratt’s Chapel.
William P. Chandler was the presiding elder, and our quarterly and
camp-meetings were great occasions. The first meeting was held at Snow
Hill. Samuel Porter, father of Rev. John S. Porter, D.D., was a most
prominent man on the circuit. He was a steward and class-leader, and
his house a preaching place. Mr. Asbury greatly admired him, and makes
most honorable mention of him in his journal. Arthur and Ezekiel Williams
were brothers, and both local preachers. They lived near the head of the
Sound. The Sound Meeting-house was built in 1785. Freeborn Garrettson
introduced Methodism here, and through him the Williamses were converted.
Arthur was one of the best local preachers I ever knew. He was a sound
divine, an evangelical preacher, a thorough Methodist. He was wise in
counsel. When I obtained his advice in a critical or difficult case I
felt secure. I loved to throw myself under his wing.
Arthur Williams had several children, and his wife began to be seriously
exercised about their salvation. They were moral and amiable; but, alas!
they had no religion. While Mr. Williams was attending an appointment
some distance off she prayed with the family, as was her custom when
he was away. While she was wrestling with the angel of the covenant on
behalf of her children, their hearts were melted into tenderness as they
saw the anxiety of their mother on their behalf. Some began to sigh, and
others to cry and pray for mercy. Several were converted that night, and
when the father came home there was wonderful rejoicing. In a little
while they were all converted.
I received a letter from Bishop Asbury requesting me to meet him at my
father’s. I did so. On Sunday he preached at Boehm’s Chapel from 2 Thess.
i, 2-10, on the second coming of Christ. The unction of the Holy One
rested on him. The sermon was delivered with great life and power, and
there was a melting time under the word. Joseph Crawford traveled with
him then. The next day they started for the Western Conference, and I for
my circuit.
On Friday we went to the Bethel, where Lorenzo Dow had an appointment.
He took no text, but discoursed on “The Character of a Gentleman.” He
gave the deists no quarters. Then he spoke clearly and feelingly upon
justification by faith and sanctification. We then accompanied him to
the “Union Meeting-House,” on Duck Creek Circuit, where he preached from
“Watchman, what of the night,” etc. His theme was the signs of the times.
It was a time of great power; there were a thousand people present. Dow
had traveled all night, and until ten o’clock the next morning, before
he reached Bethel. As soon as he had finished his sermon he jumped out
of the window, back of the pulpit, and mounting his horse rode seventeen
miles to “Union;” then to Duck Creek Cross Roads, where he preached from
“Many are called, but few are chosen.” His powers of endurance must have
been great, for he rode eighty miles and had five meetings without sleep.
Dow was then an Evangelist. He was irregular, eccentric, and yet
powerful. He had acquired the title of “Crazy Dow.” The preachers were
divided in opinion concerning him. Some gave out his appointments, and
others would not. John M’Claskey absolutely refused; he said, “I give out
no appointments for him, for I have nothing to do with Lorenzo Dow.”
I heard him preach several years after in Camden, N. J., and came to the
conclusion that the Lorenzo Dow I heard then was not the Lorenzo Dow I
heard in 1805. He was like the sun under an eclipse, or like Samson after
he lost the locks of his strength.
Previous to the session of the Philadelphia Conference in 1806, Bishops
Asbury and Whatcoat made a short tour through the Peninsula. I had the
privilege of accompanying them, and heard them preach. The fifth of April
we met them at Snow Hill, which was on my circuit. I felt a thrill of
delight in seeing them again. They went a journey of five hundred and
fifty miles to visit the Churches and preach after they left Baltimore.
Bishop Asbury preached at Snow Hill, from Heb. iii, 12, 13: the caution
“not to depart from the living God,” and the duty to “exhort one another
daily.” Notwithstanding the rain fell in torrents, crowds came to listen.
Thence we went to Broadkilltown, Delaware, where the bishop preached on
Christian steadfastness, from 1 Cor. xv, 6-8; then to Milford, where he
held forth on the form and power of godliness: 2 Tim. iii, 5.
Thence we hurried on to Dover with the afflicted Bishop Whatcoat. He was
taken with a severe fit of the gravel, and suffered most intense agony.
We did not know but he would die on the road. Bishop Whatcoat remained at
the house of Hon. Richard Bassett, while Bishop Asbury went on to meet
the Philadelphia Conference. Here these great-hearted, noble-souled, true
yoke-fellows, who had known each other in England, met in class together
when boys, who had traveled all over the mountains and valleys of this
country in pursuit of the lost sheep of the House of Israel, looked upon
each other’s faces for the last time. How touching the scene of the
separation of those patriarchs, whose hearts had beat responsive to the
other for so many years!
CHAPTER XIII.
FIRST CAMP-MEETING ON THE PENINSULA, 1805.
The introduction of camp-meetings into the Peninsula formed a new era in
Methodism in that section of country. Worshiping in the groves, God’s
first temples, was a novelty, and called out the people by thousands.
The ministers preached with unusual power, for crowds inspired them, and
converts were multiplied as the drops of the morning. I attended all
these meetings and kept a record of them.
Camp-meetings had their origin in Tennessee, in 1799. Two brothers,
named Magee, one a Methodist the other a Presbyterian minister, had the
high honor of originating them. With John Magee, the Methodist, I was
acquainted for several years; I traveled with him many miles, and heard
him in preach. He was the father-in-law of the Rev. Thomas L. Douglas.
Jesse Lee introduced camp-meetings into Virginia and Maryland, and then
to Delaware. But the first camp-meeting in the East was held by the Rev.
William Thatcher, in Carmel, New York, in 1804.
The meeting of which I now speak was the first held on the Peninsula, and
the beginning of a series that were greatly honored of God and a blessing
to thousands. It was held in a beautiful grove three miles south of
Duck Creek Cross Roads, (now Smyrna,) and commenced on the 25th of July,
1805. There were multitudes of tents, and thousands came to the feast of
tabernacles. Worshiping in nature’s magnificent temple, the preachers and
the people got new inspiration.
A notice of the ministers who preached, and their texts, may seem dry
to some, but by others the record will be read with interest, for all
who preached on that ground at that camp-meeting have long since been in
Paradise.
The opening sermon was by Jesse Lee, who had attended many camp-meetings.
He was then in his palmy days, and was a host in himself. His text was
Isaiah xxxiii, 12: “And the people shall be as the burnings of lime,
as thorns shall they be burned in the fire.” This was a singular text.
The sermon was terrific, showing the awful end of the wicked. Jesse Lee
was occasionally a “son of thunder.” His texts were often novel, and
therefore attracted attention.
John Chalmers, the old hero, preached in the afternoon from Numbers x,
1-9. If the reader will turn to it he will see it was a most ingenious
text for a camp-meeting, and the sermon was equally ingenious. A
minister’s skill and wisdom are exhibited as much in the selection of his
texts as in expounding them. Adaptation is the great secret of success.
John Chalmers knew as well as any other man how to adapt his subject to
the occasion. In his text we read of “camps,” of “trumpets” that were
blown, of the “assembly,” “congregation,” of “priests,” of “solemn days”
and “days of gladness,” all reminding us of modern camp-meetings.
Joseph Totten preached in the evening from Hab. iii, 2, “O Lord, revive
thy work.” My journal says: “This was a time of power to many souls;
about twenty-two professed to find converting grace to-day.” Such was the
first day’s work of the first camp-meeting held on the eastern shore of
Maryland.
On Friday Thomas Ware preached at eight o’clock, from 1 John v, 4, on
faith and its victories. The word was conveyed by the Spirit to the
hearts of many. At three o’clock John Chalmers preached from John xiv,
12, on faith and works. James Aikins, at eight in the evening, from
Matt. xi, 28, on the rest for those who labor and are heavy laden. The
result of the second day was glorious: sixty were converted and a number
sanctified. The meeting continued all night; some were crying for mercy,
others praying, singing, shouting—there was indeed a shout of a king in
the camp. We had a glorious time at sunrise.
On Saturday morning Jesse Lee preached at eight, from John xvi, 20, on
weeping and lamentation being turned into joy. That was verily a time
of weeping. Richard Lyon preached at three o’clock, from Isaiah i, 18:
“Come and let us reason together.” William Bishop preached at night.
About one hundred were converted during the day and last night. Wonderful
are thy works, O Lord Almighty!
On Sunday, at eight o’clock, Alvard White preached, from Psalm cvii, 8,
on praising the Lord for his wonderful works. Ephraim Chambers preached
in the afternoon, and Richard Sneath in the evening. This was a high day
in Zion. It was supposed there were more converted to-day than yesterday.
On Monday our camp-meeting closed, after a most affectionate parting.
Jesse Lee says, concerning this meeting: “Thousands of people attended,
and I suppose two hundred were converted among the white people, and many
among the blacks. I think it exceeded anything that I ever saw for the
conversion of souls, and for the quickening influences of the Holy Ghost
upon the hearts of believers. I took an account of sixty-eight Methodist
preachers who were at that meeting. The work went on beautifully and
powerfully. It was said the noise occasioned by the cries of the
distressed and the shouts of the saints was heard at the distance of
three miles. From that meeting the work of the Lord spread greatly on the
eastern shore, both in Maryland and Delaware states; and hundreds were
converted and added to the society in the course of a few months after
that meeting.” I make this long quotation because it confirms all I have
said by one who was a prominent actor.
This camp-meeting was under the charge of William P. Chandler, who was
a mighty leader of the “sacramental host,” and just the man to command
such a wing of the Christian army. Of the sixty-eight preachers who were
present I alone survive. William P. Chandler, who presided, has been dead
forty-three years; Jesse Lee, forty-nine years; and John Chalmers, thirty
years.
I went with Dr. Chandler to the camp-meeting in Accomac County, Va. We
arrived there on Monday, August 26, and worked hard in clearing the
ground and fixing the seats. We were entertained at Major Kerr’s, a man
of wealth, who stood high in the community, and had built him a splendid
mansion. He was one of Dr. Chandler’s spiritual children, and had
recently joined the society. His conversion was quite singular. Brother
Chandler preached in the neighborhood, and was entertained by the major,
who had respect for the Gospel and its ministers, though he was then
emphatically a man of the world. One day while walking with him in his
fine parlor, and amid his splendid furniture, the doctor said, “Well,
major, this mansion is too beautiful to leave behind you, and yet you
will soon have to leave it and go to that narrow house appointed for all
living.” It was a word “fitly spoken,” a “nail fastened in a sure place.”
It led the major to reflection, which resulted in his conviction and
conversion. The major identified himself with Methodism, and became very
useful.
A great multitude attended this camp-meeting. The ministers preached
with “the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven,” and the “arrows were very
sharp in the hearts of the king’s enemies.” On Thursday sixty were
converted, on Friday one hundred and fifty, on Saturday and Sunday over
a hundred each day. It was the opinion of the preachers, and others who
took pains to ascertain, that four hundred whites and over one hundred
and fifty blacks were converted. The work went on day and night without
intermission from Thursday till Monday. Besides Dr. Chandler there were
present Henry White, Thomas Birch, James Ridgeway, and John Chalmers.
There was a skeptic at the meeting who made some disturbance. He was very
fluent, and crowds gathered around him as he argued against the divinity
of Jesus, and ridiculed his mysterious birth. At last John Chalmers
encountered him, and he was just the man. He inquired of the skeptic,
“Do you believe that God created the universe?” He answered, “I do.”
“Do you believe God formed man out of the dust of the earth?” He said,
“Yes.” Another question: “Do you believe that God formed the woman out of
the man?” “Yes.” Then came the crowning question: “Do you think it more
difficult for God to create a man out of a woman than a woman out of a
man?” The question struck at the foundation of his skepticism. He was
confounded; he trembled and wept, and in a little while was on his knees
at the mourners’ bench imploring pardon. And he found that the blood of
the incarnate Jesus could wash all his guilty stains away. He became an
ornament to the Church. Years afterward I saw him with a face that looked
toward heaven, declaring, “I seek a better country.”
There has been some discussion in our periodicals as to the time when
mourners were first invited to the altar for prayers, and with whom the
custom originated. As this practice made a new era in the Church, and has
been so highly honored of God, the question is one of interest.
Dr. Bangs, in his History of Methodism, vol. iii, p. 374, speaks of the
revival in the city of New York in 1806, and says: “It was during this
powerful revival the practice of inviting penitent sinners to the altar
was first introduced. The honor of doing this, if I am rightly informed,
belongs to Brother Aaron Hunt, who resorted to it to prevent the
confusion arising from praying in different parts of the house.” This has
been for years stereotyped, and is interwoven into history. The doctor
expressed himself cautiously, for he said, “If I am rightly informed.”
The truth is, he was not correctly informed. Aaron Hunt was no doubt
the one who first introduced its practice in New York, but it existed
previously in other places. The Rev. Henry Smith of Baltimore Conference
wrote a letter to Dr. Bangs when he was editor of the _Advocate_ asking
that this error in his history might be corrected. In it he stated he had
invited mourners to the altar as early as 1803, and adds, “It was not a
solitary case or a new thing, but often practiced with success.”
I know the practice commenced much earlier than 1806. As early as 1799,
when in company with that eminent revivalist, Rev. W. P. Chandler,
on Cecil Circuit, at Back Creek, after preaching, the doctor invited
mourners to the altar. Nearly a score came forward, and twelve men
experienced the forgiveness of sins that day, and among them Lawrence
Laurenson, who became one of the most popular and useful preachers in the
Philadelphia Conference. That was the first time I ever saw or heard of
mourners being invited to the altar.
During the revivals on the Peninsula in 1801, and the two following
years, as well as at the camp-meeting in 1805, it was the invariable
practice to invite mourners to come forward. The Rev. Richard Sneath, one
of the best of ministers, with whom I fought side by side the battles
of the Lord, has thrown light on this subject. In a letter to Dr. Coke,
dated Milford, October 5, 1802, he says: “On January 25, 1801, at St.
George’s, Philadelphia, after Mr. Cooper had been preaching, I invited
all the mourners to come to the communion-table that we might pray
particularly for them. This I found to be useful, as it removed that
shame which often hinders souls from coming to Christ, and excited them
to the exercise of faith. About thirty professed to be converted, and
twenty-six joined the society.” Mr. Sneath says also: “In 1800 and 1801
I added on Milford Circuit upward of three thousand members.”[10] So
mightily grew the word of God and prevailed. The scenes were pentecostal.
It is difficult to realize them now.
CHAPTER XIV.
DOVER CIRCUIT, 1806—SICKNESS AND DEATH OF BISHOP WHATCOAT.
On Saturday, August 12, I went with Bishop Asbury to Philadelphia. He
preached twice on Sabbath. In the morning at St. George’s, from 2 Peter
i, 12-14. If the reader will turn to the passage he will see how touching
and how appropriate it was. The bishop had just left his dying colleague,
Bishop Whatcoat. He was himself pressed down with many infirmities; his
tabernacle was shaken, some of the pins were being taken out. He preached
also at the Academy from James v, 7, 8, on patiently waiting for results,
like the husbandman. The conference commenced on Monday the 14th. There
were sixty-three preachers present, and the session was one of great
peace and harmony. Bishop Asbury preached on Wednesday from 1 Tim. iv,
12, 13: “Let no man despise thy youth;” after which he ordained seven
elders.
On Thursday I heard Ezekiel Cooper preach in the Bethel from Haggai ii,
9: “The glory of the latter house shall be greater than the former,” etc.
This was a sermon of superior excellence. Ezekiel Cooper was then in his
palmy days, powerful in the pulpit, powerful on the conference floor.
The influence he wielded in the Philadelphia Conference was wonderful. He
was the master-mind, the leading spirit.
On Monday the 21st this pleasant and profitable conference adjourned.
The bishop in his journal says, “I hope many souls will be converted in
consequence of the coming together of this conference, having had great
peace in the societies, and sound, sure preaching three times a day.”
I was appointed to Dover Circuit with James Bateman. It was a pleasant
circuit, and he was a pleasant colleague. He was a young man, belonging
to one of the first families on the Peninsula, and this was his first
circuit. William P. Chandler was the presiding elder. On my arrival I
was heartily welcomed in the name of my Master. My home was the house of
the Hon. Richard Bassett. On the 26th I wrote: “Here in this hospitable
mansion the venerated Richard Whatcoat is confined with dangerous
illness; but I rejoice to find him better, and that there is hope of his
recovery.” Alas, it was a false hope, raised only to settle in despair.
On Sunday morning, with the assistance of several class-leaders, I met
two hundred colored members. Their black faces shone with holy joy, and
their songs were fervent and exhilarating. Religion does wonders for the
children of Ham.
On Tuesday I went with Dr. Chandler to James Purnell’s, where our
quarterly meeting was to be held in a grove. This was the custom in that
day. They were miniature camp-meetings. The people came in crowds, so
the churches could not hold them. We spent a day or two in clearing the
ground and removing the underbrush, and prepared seats for twelve hundred
persons. On Friday there were several tents on the ground, and a number
of people.
Dr. Chandler preached the opening sermon from Hab. iii, 2: “O Lord,
revive thy work,” etc. Great success attended the word. Brother Richard
Lyon exhorted. I closed with prayer, and then Brother Lyon invited
the mourners to the front of the preachers’ stand. I preached in the
afternoon, from 1 Peter iii, 9; and at night James Bateman, from Acts
iii, 19, on the times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord. We had
not only the gentle dew, but the refreshing shower; a number of mourners
came to the altar; sinners were pricked to the heart, and some who came
to mock, remained to pray.
Sunday was a day of mighty power; we had three sermons. I never witnessed
a more melting time. The work of justifying and sanctifying grace went on
with sweetness and power.
During the meeting one hundred and sixty were converted, and thirty-four
professed to be sanctified, and were witnesses that the blood of Jesus
Christ cleanseth from all sin.
I do not wish to make any invidious comparisons, and all my brethren
know that I never belonged to the family of croakers; but I will ask
this question: What would we think if we could witness such a scene at a
modern quarterly meeting? There was a power among the fathers, both in
the ministry and laity, that we do not possess. The ministers moved the
masses as the wind does a field of wheat, and they mowed them down as the
scythe does the grass.
After spending several days in attending the different appointments, I
returned to Dover on Monday the 12th. I wrote in my journal thus: “Father
Whatcoat is still very dangerous.” Tuesday, “To-day I shaved the dear
saint of God. I also had great satisfaction in conversing with him; he
is much resigned to the will of God.” Never shall I forget the days and
hours I spent with the dying bishop. The place was hallowed, and the room
seemed filled with the glory of God.
I took another tour, and then returned and spent more time with the
excellent bishop, whose days were closing, and the shadows of a long
evening were gathering around him.
On the 18th I preached at Barratt’s Chapel. I also preached at Frederica
and at Banning’s Chapel. Much of the power of God was felt in many of
these meetings; several lay speechless and helpless.
On May 26 I made this record: “This evening I had the pleasure of
conversing with dear Father Whatcoat, who is in a very low state of
bodily health; but what is infinitely superior, he has peace of mind,
which the world, together with health, cannot give.” The next day I had
another conversation with the aged pilgrim. “O! may the loving wholesome
advice he gave me never be erased from my mind. May I, agreeably to his
wish, continue in the field of battle should I live fifty years from now
and have health and strength. Lord, thou knowest I want to be wholly
thine while I live, thine in the article of death, thine in Paradise,
thine in the morning of the resurrection.”
Such is the record I made fifty-nine years ago, after an interview with
one of the holiest men earth ever saw. He was exceedingly happy; he
shouted aloud the praises of Jesus, and gave a glorious testimony to the
power of religion to sustain in adversity. He talked sweetly of heaven,
and of the numerous friends in America and in England that he expected to
meet in heaven.
I have ever esteemed it one of the most exalted privileges of my life to
enjoy the interviews I did with the dying bishop, and to be favored with
his benediction.
On the 5th of July, 1806, the good bishop gave his soul to God and his
body to the dust. Seldom has the Church lost a brighter ornament, seldom
heaven received a purer spirit.
Dr. Chandler delivered an address at his funeral to an immense crowd,
and the remains were deposited under the altar of the church, in Dover,
Delaware.
PORTRAITURE OF BISHOP WHATCOAT.
With Bishop Whatcoat I was personally acquainted for sixteen years. I had
seen him at my father’s house long before he was elected bishop. I was
present at his election and ordination, and I was myself ordained by him
a deacon. I have heard him preach often; have traveled with him hundreds
of miles; have been with him in many families; enjoyed his friendship,
and had the benefit of his wise counsels. I presume there is no one
living that has as many personal recollections of Bishop Whatcoat as I
have.
In regard to his personal appearance, Bishop Whatcoat was not very
tall; he was stout, though not corpulent. He had a fine intellectual
face; his mouth was small; his eyes not very dark, but expressive. His
dress was very plain, in Methodist minister style: the shad-belly coat,
and vest buttoned snug up to his neck. A few years before his death he
lost all his hair, so he was entirely bald. Some time after, to his
great astonishment, it began to grow, and his hair came out thick and
beautiful, so that when he died he had a fine head of dark hair, not even
sprinkled with gray. He combed it down straight over his forehead, the
Methodist fashion in those days. It would have been considered out of
order to have worn it so as to exhibit a noble forehead. His face, like
that of Bishop Asbury, was bronzed or tanned by exposure to many summer’s
suns and winter winds and storms. His likeness in the “Arminian Magazine”
resembles him, though it is younger than when I saw him.
As a man he was most remarkable, for in him was blended a dignity
that commanded reverence, and a humility and sweetness that inspired
affection. The benignity that shone in his countenance revealed the
character of the inner man. He loved everybody, and all loved him in
return. As a bishop he was a safe counselor, for he was wise in judgment.
He was a good presiding officer. He governed by the law of kindness, and
the preachers all venerated him. In the pulpit he excelled. He could melt
and mould an audience as few men ever did. The holy anointing rested on
him, and a peculiar unction attended his words. Several of his sermons I
can never forget. One I heard from him in 1790, seventy-five years ago, I
distinctly remember: “The handful of corn,” and “the fruit shaking like
Lebanon.” Also the one at Duck Creek Cross Roads, in 1803, on “suffering
a while,” etc. He professed purity of heart, and no one that knew him
doubted his being in possession of it. A holier man has not lived since
the days of the seraphic Fletcher, whom in some respects he strikingly
resembled. He walked in the light as God was in the light. He was a man
of one book, the Bible; and such was his knowledge of the Scriptures
that he was called “a concordance.” He was peculiarly solemn. He always
appeared to act as if he heard a voice saying, “Occupy till I come,” or
as if the judgment trump was sounding in his ears summoning him to “give
an account of his stewardship.”
It was my privilege on September 23 to hear Dr. Chandler in Dover
preach the funeral sermon of Bishop Whatcoat from John i, 47: “Behold
an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile.” Was there ever a more
appropriate text? No man was ever more free from guile than Bishop
Whatcoat. Dr. Chandler did justice to the subject. He had known the
bishop intimately for years, and was a great admirer of his many virtues.
I wrote thus in my journal: “This was truly a solemn and profitable
discourse. My heart was affected on reflecting on what wholesome
instructions I have heard from the lips of our father in the Lord both in
private and public. I am encouraged to be more faithful, that I may not
become a castaway, and be separated from those who have gone before.”
Bishop Asbury hastened back after his New England tour to see his friend
and “true yoke-fellow,” but he was too late. “At Kingston,” he says, “I
found a letter from Dr. Chandler declaring the death of Bishop Whatcoat,
that father in Israel, and my faithful friend for forty years; a man of
solid parts; a self-denying man of God. Who ever heard him speak an
idle word? When was guile found in his mouth? He had been thirty-eight
years in the ministry: sixteen years in England, Wales, and Ireland, and
twenty-two in America; twelve years as presiding elder; four of this time
he was stationed in the cities, or traveling with me, and six years in
the superintendency. A man so uniformly good I have not known in Europe
or America.... At his taking leave of the South Carolina Conference I
thought his time was short. I changed my route to visit him, but only
reached within a hundred and thirty miles; death was too quick for me.”
The next spring, when Bishop Asbury was returning from his annual
southern tour, he came to Dover. On April 27, 1807, in Wesley Chapel,
standing over the remains of Bishop Whatcoat, he preached the funeral
sermon of his late colleague from 2 Tim. iii, 10: “But thou hast fully
known my doctrine, manner of life, purpose, faith, longsuffering,
charity, patience.”[11] Governor Bassett was present, and many others who
loved Bishop Whatcoat in life, and mourned the loss they sustained in
his death. It was a portraiture of Bishop Whatcoat sketched and painted
by a master workman who was well acquainted with his subject; and so
accurate was the likeness, with its lights and shades, that there was no
difficulty in recognizing the original.
On the walls of the church in Dover was placed a neat marble slab, on
which the following was inscribed:
“In memory of the REV. RICHARD WHATCOAT, one of the bishops of the
Methodist Episcopal Church, who was born March, 1736, in Gloucestershire,
England, and died in Dover July 5, 1806, aged seventy years.”
CHAPTER XV.
DOVER CIRCUIT—GREAT CAMP-MEETINGS.
It is now almost impossible to realize what great times we had at our
early camp-meetings. They did much in breaking up the strongholds of the
devil, and almost revolutionized the Peninsula. They made, as Bishop
Asbury said, “our harvest seasons.” Among the Methodists no gentlemen and
ladies attended for leisure, pleasure, or pure air; but they went to work
to save souls from death, and acted as if they had no other business. On
June 11 we held a camp-meeting on Dover Circuit. There were two hundred
tents on the ground. Brother Alward White preached the first sermon
from Neh. iv, 10, on removing the rubbish so we shall be able to build
the wall. On the first day forty-seven were converted and thirty-nine
sanctified. This is the way they looked for things in those days:
while penitents were pardoned the saints were purified. Friday morning
Richard Lyon preached from Matt. xx, 6, to idlers in God’s vineyard.
Then mourners were invited to the altar. Many came, and the work of God
went on till three o’clock, when James Aikins preached from Luke xiv,
17, on the Gospel feast. The work went on gloriously, and at sunset they
reported one hundred converted and seventy-five sanctified. In the
evening George Woolley preached from Isaiah xxviii, 17, on sweeping away
the refuge of lies. The last refuge of the sinner seemed to be swept
away. The next morning they reported sixty-two converted and fifty-three
sanctified.
Thomas Boring preached on Saturday at eight o’clock from Rev. iii, 20:
“Behold, I stand at the door and knock,” etc.; W. B. Lacy at three from
Deut. xxxii, 11, about “The eagle stirreth up her nest,” etc.; Thomas
Dunn in the evening from Psalm cxlv, 19. There were one hundred and
forty-six converted and seventy-six sanctified during the day. The next
morning they reported one hundred and fifty-six converted and one hundred
and sixteen sanctified during the night.
Sabbath was a great day in Israel. Dr. Chandler preached in the morning
at ten from Isaiah xi, 9: “For the earth shall be full of the knowledge
of the Lord,” etc. He could move the masses as the wind stirs the leaves
on the trees. James Ridgeway at three in the afternoon, from 1 Peter iv,
17: “What shall the end be of them that obey not the Gospel.” He was a
powerful man at camp-meetings. At sunset they reported three hundred and
thirty-nine conversions and one hundred and twenty-two sanctifications.
What a Sabbath! Peter Vannest preached at eight o’clock. Eighty-one
converted that evening and sixty-eight sanctified.
On Monday morning William Hardisty preached from Psalm xxxiv, 5; in the
afternoon Brother Jackson from Acts iii, 19, 20, on times of refreshing
from the presence of the Lord; and James Herron preached in the evening.
There were this day two hundred and sixty-four conversions and fifty
sanctifications.
On Tuesday morning the Lord’s supper was administered. There was a most
melting time. I have given this record just as it was written in 1806. I
added: “O how the power and love of God unites the hearts of his people.
Glory to my God and Saviour that I have lived to see such times of the
outpouring of his Spirit! Agreeable to the report of those who were most
active in the work, there were eleven hundred conversions and six hundred
sanctifications.” This may seem an exaggeration, but the record was made
at the time, and there could be no object to state anything but the
truth, for it was written simply for myself, and not for others.
July 15 the camp-meeting began near Dover. For several days we had been
preparing seats for six thousand persons. The people came in crowds.
There were four hundred tents, wagons, and carts within the inclosure.
Some slept in wagons, others in carts.
On Thursday John Chalmers, an old warrior, opened the campaign from Exod.
xiv, 15: “Speak unto the children of Israel that they go forward.” They
did go forward with banners flying, and a shout was heard along the
ranks of our Israel. The work of revival commenced in a powerful manner
under the first sermon, and continued through the night. There were
sixty-eight converted and twenty-nine sanctified. Glory to the Highest!
On Friday at eight o’clock Lawrence M’Combs preached on 2 Cor. iv,
5. He had a powerful voice, and was an admirable man to preach at
camp-meetings. Brother Kendall preached in the afternoon. On Saturday
morning Daniel Chambers, a local preacher from Baltimore, preached on
“The Lord preserveth all them that love him, but all the wicked will he
destroy.” Joshua Wells preached in the afternoon from Psalm lxxxvii, 3:
“Glorious things are spoken of thee,” etc.; and William B. Lacy at night
from Isaiah xxxiii, 16. The work went on all night. Will the reader be
surprised that I added, “Glory! glory!”
Sabbath was a high day in Zion. There were about ten thousand people
on the ground. In the morning Samuel Coate preached on John iii, 17;
John Chalmers preached in the afternoon; and Brother Ridgeway at night.
One hundred and ninety-eight were converted and one hundred and sixty
sanctified. Halleluiah! This was during the day. The work continued all
night, and one hundred and twenty-seven were converted and one hundred
sanctified before the sun rose in the east.
On Monday morning Peter Vannest preached on Luke xv, 2: “This man
receiveth sinners and eateth with them.” He did receive them cordially
into his arms, into his family; he was receiving them when my brother was
preaching. Samuel Coate preached again on being instant in season and out
of season. He was there to raise money for a church in Montreal, Canada,
and was very successful. I preached at night from Luke xiv, 22, 23:
“And yet there is room.” The work went on gloriously all night. During
the meeting there were reported one thousand three hundred and twenty
conversions and nine hundred and sixteen sanctifications.
This is wonderful. I give the figures just as I wrote them in my journal
in July, 1806. Shall these eyes, before they are closed in death, ever
witness such scenes again? Shall these ears ever hear such cries of
distress, such shouts of joy, such songs of victory? Shall this aged
heart ever feel such shocks of divine power as I felt on that consecrated
ground?
Governor Bassett was full of faith and the Holy Ghost. He obtained a
wonderful baptism, and gave in his testimony before listening thousands.
Bishop Whatcoat had died a short time before at his house, and his
patience in suffering and his triumphant death was a great benefit to the
governor, who witnessed the agony and the triumph of that holy man. Allen
M’Lane, father of Hon. Louis M’Lane, was there on his knees wrestling
with the Angel of the Covenant, with tears rolling down his cheeks, for
a clean heart, and he was made pure in heart and enabled to see God.
Methodism received a mighty impetus from this meeting.
On the 31st of July I left home for a camp-meeting in Virginia. On the
way I attended quarterly meeting, with Dr. Chandler, in the grove near
Samuel Porter’s, at Snow Hill. Two hundred and forty were converted and
many sanctified. On Sunday, at midnight, I started with the doctor,
Brothers R. Lyons, T. Burch, Aikins, and others, for the camp-meeting at
Accomac. We reached Onancock, and put up with Major Kerr, whom I have
described.
On Thursday morning our camp-meeting commenced, and the work of God
broke out in the several tents before a single sermon was preached. In
the evening Alward White preached from Psalm xlii, 3: “My tears have
been my meat day and night,” etc. The work went on nearly all night, and
the next morning they reported one hundred and twenty-two converted and
eighty-four sanctified.
The preachers and subjects during the rest of the meeting were as
follows: _Friday_—John Chalmers, Eccles. iii, 3; Matthew Greentree, Col.
iii, 3, 4; Peter Vannest, Rev. xii, 1, “And there appeared a great wonder
in heaven,” etc.; a wonderful text, and there was a wonderful time.
_Saturday_—James Aikins, Zech. ix, 12; Richard Lyon, Luke xii, 57; John
Chambers, Matt. i, 21. On this day the sons of Belial made a great stir,
and for a time somewhat hindered the progress of the work; yet there were
two hundred and sixty-three conversions and one hundred and twenty-three
reported to have been sanctified during the day and night. _Sunday_—John
Chalmers, Rev. xx, 1-3; Henry White, Rev. xxi, 27; he struck with the
hammer of God’s word and broke the hearts of stone, and the work went on
during the whole night. On Monday I held forth, from Gal. vi, 9, on not
being weary in well-doing.
On Tuesday morning the Lord’s supper was administered; after which we
had our Christian parting, which was truly affecting, for many of us
parted to meet no more till we pitch our tent in the groves of Paradise.
A number of friends were there from Baltimore. The preachers and the
people who were there have gone most of them the way whence they will not
return. The number of conversions reported in the course of the meeting
was over nine hundred.
Brother Chalmers went with me to Snow Hill, where he preached. I was
taken very ill. I lodged with Samuel Porter. I read a part of a chapter
and fainted, and Brother Porter prayed. I fainted also in preaching that
day. I was kindly cared for at G. Ward’s, a local preacher. Here I was
dangerously ill for several days under the doctor’s care. I then went
with Brother Ridgeway to the Line quarterly meeting to see Dr. Chandler,
to get some advice from him concerning my health. The chapel could not
hold the people, so the preaching was out of doors, and the preachers
lodged in the meeting-house. There were one hundred and twenty converted
at this meeting. Dr. Chandler advised me to go with him to Dr. Edward
White’s, in Cambridge. I was so weak I could not have gone had not Doctor
Chandler kindly permitted me to ride in his carriage. For five weeks I
was under the care of Dr. White, who was a skillful physician as well as
Christian gentleman. And here slowly I began to recover. The doctor and
his family were very kind to me.
During these days I enjoyed the society of Joseph Everett, who was then
worn out. It was a privilege to hear the old warrior talk of bygone days,
of battles fought and victories won. On the 30th of October I took my
leave of Dr. White, and recorded this prayer: “May the Lord bless this
kind family. I trust I shall never forget the kindness they have shown
to me.” I never can. They have gone to their reward, but my heart throbs
with gratitude when I recall their peculiar kindness to me over fifty
years ago.
I went to our quarterly meeting, not far from Snow Hill, and found
Brother Chandler and the preachers clearing the ground and preparing the
seats. The people went with their tents to quarterly meeting as they do
now to camp-meeting. There were many tents on the ground. On Saturday
there was a great awakening, and though it rained, the work went on all
night.
On Sunday morning, Dr. Chandler preached from John vii, 17, “If any
man shall do his will he shall know of the doctrine,” etc. Then he
called the mourners forward, and many came and the work went on till
three o’clock, when Ezekiel Williams preached from 1 Cor. i, 30. Dr.
Chandler immediately followed, and took for his theme the ten lepers.
At the conclusion of the discourse he called the mourners forward; a
great number accepted of the invitation, and the cries of the mourners
and the shouts of those who were happy continued until morning, when we
separated, and it was a time of weeping and of shouting. There were sixty
souls converted and fifty sanctified during the meeting. My soul, praise
the Lord! I have dwelt here to show the reader what kind of times we had
at our quarterly meetings in those days. I returned to my circuit, and
there was one general revival.
In September I preached the funeral sermon of Edward Callahan, who
resided near Banning’s Chapel. He died of cancer, after long and
excruciating sufferings. It commenced with his under lip, and spread so
that it eat off the side of his face and his tongue, yet such was the
power of grace that he was enabled to triumph over pain, and glorified
God in the fires. Like his Master, he was made perfect through
suffering. His was a peculiar case. Before his conversion he was a
confirmed stammerer; indeed such was the impediment in his speech that
often he could not express what he wanted to say in language, and was
obliged to resort to writing; but the moment he passed from death unto
life a physical as well as moral miracle was wrought, his tongue was
unloosed, and he became a very useful local preacher. He preached for
over twenty-five years.
I could fill a volume with what occurred on Dover Circuit; it was one of
the most glorious years of my life. At Dover, Barratt’s Chapel, Milford,
Banning’s Chapel, and many other places, we saw the wonderful works of
God. I was happy in my colleague, James Bateman, a Christian gentleman,
and a brother beloved. I was happy in my presiding elder, Doctor
Chandler. I was happy in my home, the house of the Hon. Richard Bassett,
for though I had many good stopping places on the circuit, his house was
my home, and there could be no better one for a Methodist preacher. I was
happy among the colored people; we paid special attention to them, and
witnessed the power of the Gospel upon their hearts. The whole year was
one scene of revival.
REV. WILLIAM P. CHANDLER, M.D.
I rode with Dr. Chandler, in his wagon, to Philadelphia, to attend the
conference. As this is the last of my traveling with him I will give a
sketch of him. I do this with pleasure, as I think too little has been
said concerning him. He was among the great men of Methodism in that
day, and his name deserves to be held in everlasting remembrance. I was
intimately acquainted with him for years. No man did I venerate more,
none had I greater reason to love. He was my spiritual father, my early
counselor and friend, and it was by him I was first encouraged to enter
the work of the ministry.
He was born in Maryland on June 22, 1764, and in 1790 was converted in
St. George’s, Philadelphia. In 1797 he was admitted into the Philadelphia
Conference, and appointed to Strasburg Circuit. This included Boehm’s
Chapel. This was the first year I saw and heard Dr. Chandler. He was
called doctor because he had studied medicine with the famous Dr. Rush,
one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. Thomas Ware
brought him out into the work, and had for him a great admiration.
He did most efficient service for several years, until his health
failed, and he located in 1813. Anxious to die with his name enrolled
with his brethren, he was received into the Philadelphia Conference as a
superannuated preacher in 1822, the very year he died.
Dr. Chandler was emphatically a great man: great physically, for he had a
noble body; great mentally, for he had a noble mind; great morally, for
he had a noble soul. As presiding elder, he magnified his office. His
quarterly meetings were seasons of great interest and power. He was great
at camp-meetings. He inaugurated the camp-meetings that were first held
on the Peninsula, where thousands were converted.
The great revival at the General Conference in 1800 was the result of
a revival previously commenced on Cecil Circuit, and the flame spread
to Baltimore, from that to Duck Creek, throughout the Peninsula, and
almost all over our entire work. Dr. Chandler was the leading spirit, the
pioneer in that glorious work which is now a part of the history of the
Church.
He was pre-eminently a revivalist. Powerful scenes were often witnessed
under his preaching. Scores would be awakened under a single sermon.
Sinners seized with trembling would fall to the ground like dead men,
while the shout of victory from the redeemed could be heard afar off.
I saw him on an ordinary occasion take twelve into society who were
converted at a meeting one Sabbath day, and two of them, Lawrence
Laurenson[12] and Thomas Curran, became preachers.
Dr. Chandler was great in faith and prayer. At the first camp-meeting a
dark, thick cloud gathered over the encampment, and there was a prospect
of a tremendous shower. The people showed symptoms of alarm, and began to
disperse. The doctor requested them to be seated, expressing the utmost
confidence there would be no rain. Then he said, “Let us pray.” And he
prayed that God would fold up the clouds, and that the rain might not
descend upon the encampment. He that heard Elijah’s prayer listened to
Dr. Chandler’s. The clouds parted when right over the camp, and it rained
on either side, but no sprinkling on the camp-ground. I make no comment,
but simply state the fact, of which I was an eye-witness. I heard him
preach over fifty times sermons of such power as I have seldom heard in
a long life of over fourscore years. Down on the Peninsula such was his
power that the wicked used to say, “If Dr. Chandler was placed on one
end of a stand at camp-meeting and Solomon Sharp on the other they could
preach the devil out of hell.” This rough expression shows what they
thought of his power.
The doctor suffered from paralysis. He went to the West Indies, but
returned home worse than when he went. His death was such a triumph that
angels must have contemplated it with delight. A friend being on the way
to meeting stopped to inquire how he was. The doctor asked “What day is
it?” On being told it was Sunday, “Sunday?” said the doctor; “go then
to meeting and tell them I am dying shouting the praises of God.” Then
turning to his wife he said, “My dear Mary, open the window and let me
proclaim to the people in the streets the goodness of God.” Thus passed
away one of the most powerful ministers that ever wielded the sword of
the Spirit. Such was the last hour of my lifetime friend and spiritual
father. He died on December 8, 1822, aged fifty-eight.
CHAPTER XVI.
MISSIONARIES, 1807.
Bishop Asbury preached the funeral sermon of Bishop Whatcoat April 29,
1807, and the same evening in Dover I preached my farewell sermon. My
heart was deeply affected on parting with my dear brethren and friends,
with whom I have had so many gracious seasons. Can it be wondered at that
I wrote, “I hope to meet them in a better country?” Most of them are
already there, and I am on my way.
The session of the Philadelphia Conference was a harmonious one. It was
held in Philadelphia, commencing on April 2. On Sunday morning Bishop
Asbury preached from Rev. ii, 10, “Be thou faithful unto death, and I
will give thee a crown of life.” In the afternoon I went with William
Colbert to the debtor’s prison, where he preached. Many of the prisoners
appeared very serious. In those days we took great pains to preach
in poor-houses, jails, penitentiaries, and state-prisons. We visited
prisoners, and particularly those who were under sentence of death. The
Wesleys did the same in the infancy of Methodism. My appointment was
strange, as it appears in the Minutes: “Pennsylvania, William Hunter,
Henry Boehm.” We had not, however, the whole “Keystone State” as our
field of labor, but only that part which lies between the Delaware and
Susquehanna Rivers. We were to break up new ground, “stretch ourselves
beyond ourselves.” This was what Bishop Asbury was ever trying to do
himself, and wished others to imitate him. I was appointed to that field
because I understood the German language. My German sword had become
a little rusty, for I had had but little occasion to use it on Dover
Circuit; but I had now to take it out of its scabbard and polish it, and
try its temper.
Thomas Burch and I put up with Mr. Rolph, who was the keeper of the
debtor’s prison. People were in those days imprisoned for debt, and as
there were many in debt, so there were many prisoners. ROBERT MORRIS,
a signer of the Declaration of Independence, the intimate friend of
Washington, one of the framers of the Federal Constitution, and the great
financier of the Revolution, whose credit for a time was better than his
country’s, lost all his property and became bankrupt, and was confined
in this very prison for debt for a long time, to the shame of the city
of brotherly love and to the shame of his country. But the year before I
was there death came to his relief, on May 6, 1806. He died in poverty
at the age of seventy-three. This law of imprisonment for debt is now
abolished, thanks to humanity. The keeper of this prison and his wife
were awakened, and shortly after converted. It was a very fine family,
and in after years I used to be entertained by them.
In the conference our brethren were filled with much of the divine
presence. The work of God went on in the congregations, and many were
converted. Fifteen were admitted on trial at this conference, among them
Peter P. Sandford, long known as one of the strong men of the New York
Conference.
Solomon Sharp was my presiding elder. Our first quarterly meeting was
held in a grove near Cornwall Furnace. Brother Sharp preached on 1 Peter
iv, 7, “But the end of all things is at hand,” etc., a sermon full of
power; and again on Sunday from Eccles. ix, 11. On Monday the sacrament
was administered, and Solomon Sharp preached a very profitable sermon
from Gal. v, 17, “Ye did run well; who did hinder you?” etc. There were
a few converted, and both ministry and the laity got a wonderful baptism
of love at our first quarterly meeting in the grove. We had about twenty
tents and wagons, in which the people lodged.
The last of May a camp-meeting was held in the neighborhood of what
is called “the Forrest Chapel.” This was an old chapel in the forest,
built by Mr. Demer, whom I have already noticed. Brothers Sharp, Hunter,
Ireland, and others preached, and also myself. Solomon Sharp preached
four very impressive sermons. He was a mighty man in the tented grove,
and had great power over the masses.
One of his sermons was on the worth of the soul, and the danger of its
loss. Sinners trembled, and who can wonder? Another was the contrast
between the Law and the Gospel, John i, 17; another on the danger of
looking back after having put his hand to the Gospel plow. Upward
of twenty were converted, many shouted for joy, and over ten were
sanctified. Meetings of this kind were new in this part of the country,
and crowds came to attend them.
An incident occurred here worthy of note. Some of the sinners of a
baser sort were disposed to interrupt the service. When the disturbance
threatened to be serious, the Hon. George Clymer, a signer of the
Declaration of Independence, then a lawyer, residing in Reading, arose in
the congregation and addressed the assembly. He spoke of the struggles of
the Revolution, of what our liberties cost, and the right our glorious
Constitution gives to all to worship under their own vine and fig-tree.
Then he said, “In vain have patriots bled and martyrs died to procure
freedom if we cannot worship the God of our fathers according to our own
conscience.” His address had a most happy effect in restoring order. It
was whispered round, “Who is that?” “The Hon. George Clymer,” was the
answer. It was the only time I ever saw him or heard him. His conduct
was so noble, for then we were a “sect everywhere spoken against,” and no
great honor could be obtained by defending us.
Mr. Clymer was a tall, fine-looking man, with a dark, expressive eye,
a grave countenance, and hair of a kind of iron gray. He was a great
financier, associated with Robert Morris in establishing a bank for the
relief of his country. He was a member of Congress, and president of
the Philadelphia Bank and of the Academy of Fine Arts. He was one of
the great men of Pennsylvania, and of the nation, and for such a man to
defend the Methodists under circumstances that I have described certainly
was a noble act. The name of George Clymer has in my mind ever been
associated with the Forrest camp-meeting. Six years after he died, aged
seventy-three years, just as old as his friend and compatriot Robert
Morris was when he bid adieu to earth.
CAMP-MEETING AT WYE.
In July Bishop Asbury and Daniel Hitt made us a brief visit, as they were
on their tour West.
On Sunday, July 26, the bishop preached, under the shade of some locust
trees, near Columbia, on the east bank of the Susquehanna, from 2 Cor. v,
14, on the death of Jesus, and why he died for all. Daniel Hitt preached
from 2 Cor. vi, 17, 18, on coming out from the world, etc. The next day
I accompanied Bishop Asbury to Little York, and then bade him adieu,
little thinking that the next year I would be his traveling companion.
On Wednesday I went with Brother Sharp and several friends to Wye
camp-meeting, Queen Anne County, Maryland. On Friday night the campaign
was opened by Solomon Sharp, from Mal. iii, 16-18, “Then they that feared
the Lord spake one to another,” etc., an admirable introduction. I
preached on Jer. vi, 16, and John Chalmers on Matt. vi, 10, “Thy kingdom
come.” It did come, not in word only, but in power. The work of revival
went on all night. Many were converted, and the grove echoed with loud
halleluiahs.
Sunday was a great day. Great crowds, great singing, great preaching, and
great power under the word. Solomon Sharp preached in the morning from
Jer. ix, 1, “O that my head were waters,” etc.; Brother Ridgeway in the
afternoon, on 1 Cor. xv, 34, “Awake to righteousness, and sin not,” etc.,
a very awakening sermon; and William B. Lacy in the evening, on Luke xiv,
17. The slain of the Lord were many.
On Monday there was a novel scene. In the morning, John Chalmers preached
with great effect. He was followed by his son, John Chalmers, Jr., who
preached from Dan. vii, 18, “But the saints of the Most High shall take
the kingdom, and possess the kingdom forever, even for ever and ever,”
a sermon full of encouragement. The preacher was a noble son of a noble
father. His youth then attracted great attention. He was called “little
Jackey Chalmers.” Many souls found the Lord this day.
On Tuesday morning Leonard Castle, of Baltimore, preached from 2 Cor.
iv, 5, “For we preach not ourselves,” etc., a sermon of uncommon beauty,
eloquence, and power. Solomon Sharp followed, on Luke xxii, 26. Great
unction attended the word; convictions and conversions were greatly
multiplied. A brother was appointed to preach in the evening; but the
work broke out so under the prayer offered at the stand, and such were
the cries of distress, the shouts of triumph, that the preaching had to
be dispensed with. But the work went on gloriously.
On Wednesday Leonard Castle preached again from Ezek. xxxiii, 5. This was
a sermon full of alarm. Sinai’s thunder could be heard, its lightnings
seen. The people were awe-struck, and listened as if they were hearing
an angel from heaven. I wrote: “Praise the Lord that mine eyes have ever
been permitted to witness such displays of the power of God as I have
seen this day.” The work went on all night.
On Thursday morning a love-feast was held. The testimonies were clear.
God spread his banner over us, and it was love. At three o’clock Brother
Leonard Castle preached from I Tim. iv, 8, on the profitableness of
godliness for two lives and two worlds. He was surpassingly eloquent, and
the Lord worked powerfully.
On Friday Solomon Sharp and E. Larkins preached. The work went on with
such power that it was concluded, to the joy of many, to continue the
meeting over another Sabbath.
On Saturday Leonard Castle, Henry Boehm, and Henry White preached. It was
a great day of the converting and sanctifying power of God. The work went
on during the night.
Sunday was a day of wonders. Eight thousand people were on the ground.
Brothers Sharp, Castle, and Alward White preached. Leonard Castle’s text
was: “Except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the
scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of
heaven.” The sermon was one of the most eloquent and impressive I have
ever heard. The multitude on the ground looked astonished; it was visible
in their countenances. If we would know the number of conversions and
sanctifications we must wait till we are permitted to search the records
of heaven. But they were many.
On Monday morning we separated with tears and regrets. I wrote: “This was
the greatest meeting I have ever attended. Almost every sinner on the
ground was awed to reverence.”
Over twenty sermons were preached by men who knew how to wield the sword
of the Spirit. Solomon Sharp preached five sermons of rare power and
excellence. The youthful and captivating Leonard Castle preached five
times on the grandest themes that ever engaged the powers of a minister
or the attention of a congregation. His sermons on that camp ground
for years were subjects of profound admiration.[13] The old hero, John
Chalmers, twice held forth; and Jackey, a counterpart of himself, once.
We tried to break into new ground. About ten miles from Wilmington was
Sharpless’s rolling mill. We got a foothold, and formed a society, and a
church was afterward built in the neighborhood. When we first preached
there some tried to mob us. They gathered around the door and tried to
rush in and seize us. I was preaching, and Brother Hunter was with me.
There was a strong man who stood at the door with a stone in his hand
and took sides with us, and threatened to knock down the first man who
touched us. So he frightened the rowdies, and we preached on unmolested.
He was a large Irishman, and one reason he interested himself so much on
our behalf was that Brother Hunter was an Irishman, and he was determined
that his countryman should not be abused.
When on this circuit several years after I became acquainted with Abram
Sharpless, the owner of the works. He was an orthodox Quaker, a man of
wealth and great business talent. We put up with his foreman, and Mr.
Sharpless furnished plenty of food for our horses. Mr. Sharpless when
eighty years of age spoke to me of the great change that had taken place
among his workmen. Of their sobriety and industry since the Gospel had
been introduced among them he said that previous to the preaching there
on seventh day his hands would be dissipated, and no better on first
day. On second day he would have to send after them to get them to work,
and then they were not worth much. He said it was very different now.
All he had to do was to tell his people what he wanted done, and how,
and it was accomplished. I then asked him if we might not conclude that
the influence of the Gospel had produced this great change. He heartily
assented. This was acknowledging a great deal for an old Quaker.
In 1790 my old schoolmaster left Lancaster, and I did not know where he
had gone. One Sabbath in July this year, while preaching in German in
a barn in Likens’s Valley, I saw an intelligent-looking man viewing me
intently through his spectacles. I wondered who it was, and where I had
seen him. Behold, it was my old schoolmaster, that I had not seen since
I was his pupil eighteen years before. We greeted each other with tears,
and talked of bygone days and scenes. He was a Lutheran, and used to read
the burial service at funerals when the minister was absent. He became a
minister, and was pastor of a church west of the Susquehanna. I never saw
him afterward, but I never can forget Henry Rossman, my old schoolmaster,
to whom I am so deeply indebted, especially for my knowledge of the
German language.
It was not till 1807 we got a permanent foothold in Lancaster. It was
very hard soil for Methodism. Twice we made a beginning, but failed, and
for several years the place was abandoned. We had no preaching there,
only an occasional sermon.
The introduction of Methodism into Lancaster was providential. The
translation of the Methodist Discipline into German had something to do
with it. In 1807 I went to Lancaster to read the proof-sheets of this
translation at the printer’s. After I had read them, and was about to
return home, it commenced raining hard, and I put up at a public house
where I had often stopped. The Lutherans were there in great numbers
to draw a lottery, the proceeds of which were to finish a church
steeple.[14] A crowd had come together to see who was fortunate enough
to obtain a prize. Feeling no interest in the result of the drawing,
and annoyed by the noise and confusion of the people, I left the public
house and took a walk through Lancaster to while away the time. While
going along the street I met with a woman who had been a member of the
Methodist Church in Germantown. She told me there was a man by the name
of Philip Benedict in Lancaster who had been awakened at a camp-meeting,
and he and his wife were seeking the Lord, and she advised me to call and
see them, telling me where they lived. I went to their house, pointed
them to Jesus, and prayed with them. As I was about leaving they said,
“O that we could have Methodist preaching in Lancaster!” I told them
they could have it. So I left an appointment to preach at his house. It
became a permanent preaching place. In a little while I formed a class of
six members: Philip Benedict and his wife, and four others. This was the
nucleus of the society which remained permanent. I am thankful that I had
the honor of planting the tree of Methodism in that city. Behold how many
links there are in this singular chain; how many small causes to bring
about such large results!
CHAPTER XVII.
DOCTOR ROMER AND THE GERMAN METHODIST DISCIPLINE.
There are but few who know that the Methodist Discipline was translated
into German fifty-seven years ago, and I am the only man living who knows
all about it: by whom it was translated, who brought it through the
press, etc. In Asbury’s Journal we find, under date of Friday, August 30,
1810, “At Middletown, Penn. We here broke bread with Dr. Romer, a German,
who has translated our Discipline for his countrymen.” This brief record
is all. There is not a historian of our Church that names the fact so
full of historic interest. Mr. Asbury ever felt the deepest interest in
the welfare of the Germans. When I commenced traveling with him in 1803,
and went as far as Berlin, on the top of the Alleghany Mountains, the
reader will remember he sent me back to Dauphin to preach to the Germans.
The Rev. John Lednum in his recent work, “Rise of Methodism in America,”
p. 241, has fallen into an error. In speaking of Peter Albright,[15] and
the Albright Methodists, he says: “Dr. Romer of Middletown translated the
Discipline into German for their use.” This is a great mistake.
The Albrights were not regularly organized into a conference till 1807.
The same year the Methodist Discipline was translated into German. Their
whole membership at that time was only two hundred and twenty. It is not
likely they would have had the Methodist Discipline translated for that
small number. Furthermore, at their Conference of 1807 those associated
with him requested Mr. Albright to draw up some “articles of faith and
a discipline for the association, in conformity with the Scriptures.”
Would they have made any such request if they had adopted the Methodist
Discipline? Mr. Albright died six months after the conference, and
therefore was unable to comply with their request. The association
had not the name of “Albrights” until 1809, and in that year the Rev.
J. Miller drew up the articles of faith and discipline for them. Our
Discipline was translated into German two years before, but not at their
request, or for their use; they had no hand in it.
The facts are these: At the request of Bishop Asbury and the Philadelphia
Conference I had the Methodist Discipline translated into German in 1807.
I employed Dr. Romer, and aided him in the translation. We frequently
compared notes, and consulted about certain terms. I also employed the
printers and paid them, and examined all the proof-sheets, and attended
to the distribution of the books after they were printed. I made a
number of entries in my journal at that time which throw light on the
subject: “June 30, 1807, I rode to Middletown and came to Dr. Romer’s
about sundown. The doctor has now translated our form of Discipline into
the German language, which I expect soon will be published.” This was in
June, and some time was spent afterward in revising it, for it was not
until September it went into the hands of the printer, as will be seen
from the following extracts from my journal:
“September 1, I rode to Lancaster, and agreed with Henry and Benjamin
Grimler, printers, to print fifteen hundred copies of our form of
Discipline in German, then returned home to my parents in the afternoon.”
Again: “Monday, September 7, went to Lancaster, and saw the first
proof-sheets of the Discipline.” October 14 I was again in Lancaster, and
the record says, “I stopped a while with the printers; the Discipline is
about half done.” From these extracts and others I might make, it will be
seen what kind of a hand I had in publishing the first German Methodist
Discipline in the new world. The Germans had an idea that the Methodists
had no Discipline, and this was widely circulated to our injury, for it
was extensively believed. This translation corrected the error. Then
there was a prospect of a union between the Methodists and the United
Brethren, and it was well to have the Discipline in their own language,
so that they could understand our doctrines and our mode of Church
government. It was also necessary for the Germans who were connected with
our Church. The translation was an admirable one, and was very useful,
correcting the errors that had been circulated about us, and enabling
the Germans to read in their mother tongue our excellent Discipline. I
sent several hundreds of them in a box to Cincinnati, to be distributed
gratuitously among the Germans in the West; others were circulated about
Pennsylvania. Bishop Asbury had some of them. I footed the bill, and the
publication caused me some pecuniary loss. It might not have been so
if I had continued to travel in Pennsylvania; but the following spring
I commenced traveling with Bishop Asbury, and so could not well attend
to the sale of the books. I do not complain, but I rejoice that I was
permitted to do anything toward the translation of the Discipline into
German at that early day. “I cast my bread upon the waters” expecting to
“find it after many days,” and I have not been disappointed. I found it
long ago.
The reader would no doubt like to know more of the translator. I was
intimately acquainted with DR. ROMER for years, having been often at
his house, and often preached there. I was there in 1802, and in after
years. He was a physician, and resided in Middletown, Penn., ten miles
south-east of Harrisburgh, and situated near the junction of Swatara
(sweet arrow) and Susquehanna Rivers. Middletown was built upon the site
of an ancient Indian village, and derived its name from being half way
between Lancaster and Carlisle.
Dr. Romer was a native of Switzerland. He was educated for a Roman
priest, but he became so disgusted with the conduct of a corrupt
priesthood that instead of entering the sacred office he became
skeptical. He acknowledged the existence of a God, but denied the
authenticity of the Scriptures. He emigrated to this country and married
here. The doctor was awakened, not by reading the arguments of able
champions of revelation, nor by the eloquence of able ministers of the
Gospel, but by that most powerful argument in favor of Christianity, a
holy life. The great Teacher said, “Let your light so shine before men
that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is in
heaven.” It was the holy life and correct deportment of a widow lady by
the name of Flanagan, who was a neighbor of Dr. Romer, which shook the
foundations of his skepticism, and the whole superstructure fell to the
ground. He had no argument against a holy life. Her example led him to
abandon his skepticism, led him to Calvary, to the cross, to the Church,
to heaven.
I was well acquainted with Mrs. Flanagan. She was a good woman, possessed
a strong mind, and was keen and shrewd. She not only lived religion
before the doctor, but was able “to give a reason for the hope that was
in her with meekness and fear.” Being convinced of the truth of the
Christian religion, he sought and found the pearl of great price, and
rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory. He joined the Methodist
Episcopal Church, whose doctrines he cordially believed, and whose
discipline he approved and loved. This was about the year 1800. He was
ever after the preachers’ friend; his house was their home, and also
one of our regular preaching places on the circuit. I made his house my
home when on the Schuylkill District in 1814. He was a man of sterling
integrity, and greatly esteemed for his many virtues. He was a profound
Latin as well as German scholar; indeed he had a superior education in
all respects; was eminent as an astronomer, and a good English scholar,
though he always retained something of the German accent.
Dr. Romer did immense service for Methodism by his translation of the
Discipline. Up to that time but little had been done by the Methodists
for the Germans; but O what wonders since! The doctor wrote an admirable
preface to the German Discipline, in which he gave a condensed view of
our history, doctrines, and discipline. All honor to the man who did
such noble service for the Germans; a work and labor of love, for he
would not take a farthing for his labor.
Dr. Romer held fast his integrity until the end, and died a few years ago
at Lewistown on the Juniata.
CHAPTER XVIII.
GENERAL CONFERENCE OF 1808.
The Philadelphia Conference met this year in the city of brotherly love,
on March 20. It was like one great love-feast from beginning to end. The
preaching was of a high order, and many were converted. Twelve preachers
were received on trial, among others Thomas Neal, long one of the honored
fathers of the New Jersey Conference. Five were admitted into full
connection; one of them was Charles Giles, so useful in Western New York.
Bishop Asbury was constantly in favor of breaking up new ground. The
success of the previous year encouraged him to appoint an additional
laborer to the field we had tried to cultivate. The bishop read the
appointment thus: “Pennsylvania, William Hunter, William Colbert, and
Henry Boehm.”
On the 26th of April, with Brothers William Hunter and William Colbert,
I started for Baltimore to attend the General Conference. We rode on
horseback, as was the custom in those days. On the 30th we arrived in
Baltimore, and were appointed to John Fisher’s at Oldtown.
The conference began the 1st of May. Bishop Asbury alone presided, as
Dr. Coke was in Europe, and Bishop Whatcoat was dead. This was in many
respects the most important Methodist ecclesiastical body that had ever
assembled in America.
Previous to the session of this conference the Church had been like our
nation under the _articles of confederation_; but subsequently we were
like it after our constitution was formed.
There were one hundred and twenty-nine members representing seven
conferences. All the elders were entitled to a seat in the conference,
but many of them did not attend. The funeral of Harry Dorsey Gough was
attended at seven o’clock the 6th of May. Mr. Gough resided in Baltimore
in the winter, and at his splendid country residence, Perry Hall, in
the summer. When his corpse was removed, to be taken into the country,
Bishop Asbury and many members of the General Conference walked in the
procession to the end of the city. The multitude was so great few of them
got into the house. Bishop Asbury’s prayer, before the body was removed,
was one of the most powerful I had ever heard.
During the session of the conference there was much eloquent and
powerful preaching. On Sunday, the 8th, George Pickering preached in the
market-house, and three preachers exhorted after him, Joseph Totten,
Francis Ward, and S. Budd. There was a mighty shaking among the people.
This was early in the morning. At half past ten I heard William M’Kendree
from, “Is there no balm in Gilead,” etc. This was the eloquent sermon
that made him bishop. The late Dr. Bangs gives a graphic description
of it. Slow in his commencement, he rose with his subject, till his
audience were melted like wax before the fire. In the afternoon Rev.
Stith Mead, from Virginia, preached at Oldtown. Bishop Asbury preached,
in Eutaw-street, the opening sermon of the new chapel, from 2 Cor. iii,
12, “Seeing then we have such hope, we use great plainness of speech.”
The crowd was immense and the sermon characteristic.
There was not only preaching on Sunday, but three times every day in
the Light-street Church, and every evening in the four other churches,
namely: The Point, Oldtown, African, and the New Church, (Eutaw.) Several
were converted during the week, but we saw no such scenes as occurred
during the General Conference of 1800.
The Conference elected William M’Kendree bishop. There was great
unanimity in regard to the choice, for on the first ballot he received
ninety-five out of one hundred and twenty-eight votes.
Sunday the 15th was a great day. William M’Kendree, bishop elect,
preached at seven o’clock in the Marsh market. My record says: “This was
an awful time of the power and presence of the Lord.” At ten o’clock
Bishop Asbury, in Light-street Church, and the sheep were gloriously fed
by the under shepherd. In the afternoon Jacob Gruber preached in German,
at three o’clock, in Father Otterbein’s church; Brother M’Kendree again
at five, in the New Church; and John M’Claskey at Light-street in the
evening.
On Wednesday, the 18th, William M’Kendree was consecrated to the office
and work of a bishop. Previous to the ordination Bishop Asbury preached
from 1 Tim. iv, 16, “Take heed unto thyself,” etc. Freeborn Garrettson,
Philip Bruce, Jesse Lee, and Thomas Ware assisted Bishop Asbury in the
ordination service, they being the oldest ministers present. The future
life of Bishop M’Kendree, his efficient services for years, show the
wisdom of the choice.
Sunday the 22d was a great day in Baltimore. George Pickering preached
in the new church at six in the morning from Col. i, 28; at ten, Samuel
Coates, in Oldtown, from Gen. xxiii, 14; at three, Jacob Gruber, at the
African Church, from Psalm xxxiv, 6; at five, Ezekiel Cooper preached
in Eutaw-street Church, from Matt. iii, 7, “O generation of vipers,
who hath warned you to flee the wrath to come?” He dwelt not only upon
wrath—divine wrath—but particularly “wrath to come;” taking the sinner
onward and showing that to all eternity it would be _wrath to come_!
future wrath, increasing wrath, Jesse Lee preached in the evening at
Light-street, from John v, 40. Thus ended this day of privileges, the
last Sabbath of the General Conference in Baltimore in 1808.
I have given a description of the preaching, for this had not been done.
Others have dwelt upon the doings of the General Conference during the
week, and have said but little of what was done on Sunday. But to hear
giants in the pulpit, these master workmen, was a privilege that afforded
me consolation in after years.
It will be seen they preached early in the morning, and had five
services a day. There was a great deal more preaching during the General
Conference. I have simply named the men I heard.
The business of the conference was done in great harmony. There were
masterly debates on the great questions of Church polity that came
before them, but all was done in love. The members seemed to possess
much of that “charity that thinketh no evil.” They not only elected a
superintendent, but made provision for a delegated General Conference, a
measure that was much needed.
Bishop Asbury requested me to travel with him. On Monday, May 23, William
Hunter, William Colbert, and myself, obtained leave of absence. It was
necessary for me to go home to get ready to travel with Bishop Asbury,
and I was to meet him at Perry Hall.
After my return home I went to Lancaster, and agreed with Messrs.
Grimlers to print a pamphlet on the Characteristics of a true Methodist
or Christian, and a sermon on, “Awake thou that sleepest,” etc., in the
German language. Bishop Asbury was anxious I should travel with him,
especially on account of the Germans. He was so well pleased with the
German discipline that I went to the same printers to get the German
tracts printed. These we took with us and distributed them, as will be
seen by Asbury’s journal. These tracts did immense good; they often went
where the preacher could not go. These were the first Methodist tracts
that were published in the German language; now they are abundant. I
shall not be accused of egotism for thus showing that over half a century
ago I was a humble pioneer in this blessed work.
As I part with my excellent colleagues, William Hunter and William
Colbert, I would like to give an outline of them. Brother Hunter, a
noble-hearted man and an able minister, was born in Ireland in 1755,
and came to this country in 1790. He was intimately acquainted with the
venerated Wesley, often heard him preach, and traveled extensively with
him when he visited Ireland. After he left the Pennsylvania Mission he
was presiding elder of Schuylkill District four years. He died in 1833.
William Colbert was a small man. He was a genuine Methodist, a sound
divine, and a great revivalist. Hundreds will rise up and call him
blessed. He had a heart formed for friendship. He and my friend William
Hunter died the same year.
CHAPTER XIX.
FIRST ANNUAL TOUR WITH BISHOP ASBURY, 1808.
Bishop Asbury had a number of traveling companions: Edward Bailey, Hope
Hull, Nicholas Snethen, Sylvester Hutchinson, Thomas Morrell, Jesse Lee,
Daniel Hitt, Joseph Crawford, and others. Some were among our ablest men.
Snethen Mr. Asbury called his “silver trumpet;” Hope Hull was a prince
among orators; Morrell was dignified, wise in counsel; Hutchinson a son
of thunder; Jesse Lee shrewd, ever knowing how and when to answer a fool
according to his folly; but I have no space to notice the characteristics
of each. After my term of service expired he had two others travel with
him: John C. French, and John W. Bond, brother to the late Thomas E.
Bond, M.D., so well known as the editor of the _Christian Advocate and
Journal_.
The General Conference of 1800, on motion of Thomas Morrell, resolved
“that Mr. Asbury be authorized to take with him an elder through any
part or all his travels.” Mr. Morrell had been the traveling companion
of Mr. Asbury, and he knew how much the venerable patriarch needed one.
Previously elders had traveled with him at his own request, but from
that time it was done by the authority of the General Conference.
This year was an era in my ministerial life. I was no longer confined to
a small circuit, but traveled with the bishop around his large diocese.
Though my name in the Minutes for 1808 stands as Pennsylvania missionary,
I was there only a few weeks previous to the General Conference; the rest
of the year I was traveling with Bishop Asbury. My new field of labor
was a splendid school for a young minister, and he must have been a dull
scholar that did not learn important lessons. It enlarged my knowledge of
the country, of the Church, and of her ministers.
The venerable Asbury was sixty-three years old when I began to travel
with him. Having been greatly exposed, he was feeble, and suffered from
many infirmities. I traveled with him much longer than any of his other
companions, and have survived them all many years.
John Wesley Bond, who traveled with him last, has been dead forty-seven
and Bishop Asbury fifty years.
By agreement I was to meet the bishop at Perry Hall, Md., on June 5,
where he was to preach the funeral sermon of Harry Dorsey Gough, and then
we were to proceed on our western tour. I took leave of my aged mother
with tears, and my father accompanied me for some distance. On our way
we came to a camp-meeting that commenced on June 3, near Salem Chapel,
under the care of Dr. Chandler. Jesse Lee was at this camp-meeting in all
his glory, and preached three powerful sermons.
On Monday morning I had a most affecting parting with my father. He loved
me as Jacob did Joseph, for I was the son of his old age. I did not
reach Perry Hall till June 7, two days later than I was expected, having
lingered at the camp-meeting. I found Mrs. Gough in all the loneliness of
widowhood. She treated me very kindly.
As I was not there at the time, I supposed the bishop would wait till
I arrived; but when I reached Perry Hall I found he had left the day
before. He never waited for any man, and he wanted no man to wait for
him. His motto was, “The king’s business requires haste.”
Perry Hall was the most splendid mansion I had ever seen. There was
beauty, elegance, and magnificence. It contrasted strangely with the
little cottages and uncomfortable places where I had sometimes put up.
Mr. Gough had inherited a large estate from England, and he built Perry
Hall for his residence in the summer. It was twelve miles from Baltimore,
on the Bel Air Road.
Mr. Gough was fortunate in his marriage. His wife, Prudence, was a
sister of General Ridgeley, who was afterward governor of Maryland. She
was rightly named, for she was a very prudent woman. Mrs. Gough was
first awakened by hearing the Methodists preach, and her proud husband
forbid her hearing them again. However, he went to hear Mr. Asbury more
out of curiosity than anything else. The sword of the Spirit was very
sharp that evening, and the proud sinner was cut to the heart. On the
way home one said, “What a heap of nonsense we have heard to-night!” To
his astonishment Mr. Gough replied, “No; we have heard the truth as it
is in Jesus.” He hastened home and said to his beloved Prudence, “My
dear, I shall never hinder you again from hearing the Methodists.” This
was joyful intelligence for her. They were both converted under Bishop
Asbury, were his lifetime friends, lived holy lives, and died triumphant
deaths. The Rev. Thomas B. Sargent, D.D., married a descendant of this
family.
The next day I overtook Bishop Asbury at James M’Cannon’s at Pipe
Creek.[16] We also went to visit the widow of Rev. Henry Willis, and his
aged mother. The bishop kissed and encircled in his arms the six orphan
children of his departed friend, and blessed them in the name of the
Lord, and prayed with them. Henry Willis had died but a few weeks before,
and this was Bishop Asbury’s first visit to the lonely family after their
bereavement. The bishop went out and wept at the new-made grave of his
friend. Henry Willis was one of the noblest men of Methodism. He was
universally beloved and universally lamented.[17]
While at Pipe Creek I saw the old log meeting house built by Robert
Strawbridge, the first Methodist preaching house erected in Maryland.
It was then in a dilapidated state, and used for a barn. What wonderful
interests cluster around this humble edifice!
We commenced our tour westward. The roads were rough, the weather
excessively hot, and the bishop very feeble, and yet on he would go, and
at almost every stopping-place would preach. It was his element, his
life; he could not live long without. He makes this mournful record: “I
begin to fail.” Dear old man! He had endured enough to kill many strong
men, and now he makes the discovery that he has _begun_ to fail. Old men
are not generally willing to admit this; gray hairs are upon them, and
they do not know it. What an era it is in a man’s history when he is
conscious he is failing!
After visiting a number of places and preaching every day we began to
climb the Alleghany Mountains. It was a most tedious ride, especially for
the aged and infirm bishop. Can we wonder he wrote thus: “I have suffered
much. I am pained and sore, and poor Jane stumbled so often; but my
limbs and my soul are safe. Glory! glory!”
We were thirty-nine hours crossing the mountains. Five years before I
went with Mr. Asbury to the top of the Alleghanies, and then returned to
preach to the Germans; but now I have crossed this nature’s monument.
It was seventy miles over the mountains by the crooked paths we had to
travel. I wrote thus in my journal: “There were few houses, plenty of
stones, rocks, and hills, and springs of water and brooks; but the best
of all, the rock which cheered the Israelites in the wilderness was with
us while traveling under the rays of the scorching sun. My soul, praise
Jesus!” We passed over several mountain ridges of stupendous magnitude.
The grandeur of the natural scenery was indeed a subject of admiration.
On the other side of the mountain we rested in the hospitable mansion
of Jacob Murphy. On Sunday Mr. Asbury preached at Uniontown, Pa., on
“Converting a sinner from the error of his way.” This is said to be the
place where the first conference was held west of the Alleghanies. Here
also I preached at our host’s from Prov. x, 28. The first ordination
among the Methodists west of the mountains took place here.
The next day was the Fourth of July, and although the bishop and I were
both patriotic, and lovers of freedom, we spent, as he expresses it, “_a
solitary Fourth of July_” at Widow Henthorn’s. The bishop always planned
his work far ahead, and when he came to a conference he had but to carry
out his plan. That day he drafted conference plans as far as Baltimore,
and the next day, besides reading Thomas à Kempis, he copied off a list
of preachers for the western and southern conferences. It was method that
enabled the great Asbury to accomplish so much.
The bishop writes: “Brother Boehm spoke to the people in English and
German.” Rheumatism troubled the old gentleman, and the incessant rain
for four days kept him a prisoner, and he found the confinement irksome.
Here we saw Edward Dromgoole, one of the early preachers. He joined at
the third conference, 1775. He was now returning from the West, and he
gave a flaming description of the camp-meetings that had been held there.
We journeyed on to Connellsville. Here we had a new house of worship, or
rather a part of one. The bishop preached and dedicated the walls of the
church, for at that time it was roofless. I held forth in German. This I
did in almost every place. The next day we went to the splendid mansion
of Colonel Mason, and were entertained like princes.
During this route the bishop suffered all but martyrdom. He was
exceedingly lame, his feet being greatly inflamed, and he had been
blistered; and yet he would press on amid the intense heat of July, that
almost overcame him.
We met Asa Shinn, author of “Shinn on Salvation.” He was a man of
splendid talents; an excellent metaphysician. The bishop conversed with
him about being removed to Baltimore. Mr. Shinn finally went off with
the Reformers, and died deranged in an asylum. It is supposed his deep
studying had much to do with unbalancing his mind; but at one time he was
a mighty man in our Israel.
It was pitiful to see the old bishop hobbling on his crutches into church
at Brownsville on Sabbath July 17. There, like his Master, he sat down
and preached. His subject was God’s design in sending his Son into the
world.
The next day we rode to John Brightwell’s. The bishop says: “I had an
awfully severe ride. I am fairly arrested in my course. My knees and
feet are so disabled that I am lifted to bed. I can neither ride, stand,
nor walk.” What a painful record! And what does the reader think of his
companion, who had to lift the bishop out of bed, bathe his limbs, dress
his blisters, and nurse him like a child. I left him for a while and went
to fill his appointments, while the family kindly took care of him.
For a week there is no record made in his journal. He was unable to
write a line. But I kept an account of each day. After filling several
appointments during the week, I went to Pittsburgh to fill the
appointment of the bishop there. I lodged at Brother Wrenshall’s, a local
preacher. He was an Englishman, of excellent education and fine mind.
He preached a great deal, and preached well, and helped give tone and
character to Methodism in that section.
There were few Methodists in Pittsburgh, and they had no house of
worship, so I preached in the Court-house to about a thousand people who
had come out to hear the bishop and saw but a plain German youth from
their own State. They listened with attention while I expounded Matt.
v, 20. In the afternoon I preached in the jury-room, in German, to one
hundred hearers, from Acts x, 35. Some felt the weight of truth. Thus for
the benefit of the Germans in Pittsburgh I preached the Gospel in their
own vernacular fifty-seven years ago. Then, at six o’clock, in Brother
Wrenshall’s door-yard, I preached “deliverance to the captives.” This was
my first visit to Pittsburgh, a place so full of historic interest. And
here, for the first time, I beheld the Ohio. In after years I became very
familiar with it by crossing it so frequently with the pioneer bishop.
Leaving Pittsburgh, I returned to see how the bishop was getting on. I
was accompanied by Betsy Farley and her son-in-law. She was the daughter
of Edward Bailey, an excellent man, and one of Bishop Asbury’s traveling
companions. He died in October 1780, when on a tour with the bishop, and
here, eighteen years afterward, was one of his daughters traveling many
miles to see the bishop to converse with him about her father. On Tuesday
we reached Brother Brightwell’s, the bishop’s host, and to our great joy
we found him much better.
Mr. Asbury makes this entry: “How am I honored! Thornton Fleming paid me
a visit, and with him came Mrs. Hebert and a daughter of Edward Bailey
of Amherst, Virginia. These dear souls came sixty miles to see me. I
suppose I must get a four-wheeled carriage. Wednesday was a serious day,
but prepare to move we must; pain and death are nothing when opposed to
duty.” This is a noble sentiment of a noble man.
I wrote thus in my journal: “Thursday, 28, past human expectation we
started for West Liberty, crossed the Monongahela at Freeport, then to
Mr. Thomas M’Faddin’s, Washington, a little before night, very wet on my
part and very full of pain on the part of Father Asbury. The family were
exceeding kind.” Is it not marvelous that the old sick man should travel
in the rain under such circumstances? What but love for the Church and
for souls could have induced him?
On Friday we reached John Beck’s. This was one of the homes that Bishop
Asbury prized very highly. There was quite a society here, and John
Beck was the class-leader. He has long since gone to Paradise, but his
descendants are Methodists, and they have preserved the old chair in
which Bishop Asbury used to sit, and the old chest on which James Quinn
sat when he was converted; for this was his spiritual birthplace. It was
a famous place in Methodism; one of its early strongholds in this part of
the country. Mr. Beck was from Kent County, Maryland.
We left John Beck’s and were entertained at Major Samuel M’Colloch’s. He
and his brother John were celebrated in the annals of Indian warfare.
He it was who, when pursued by the Indians, made that terrible leap of
three hundred feet down a precipice with his horse into the river, and
thus mercifully escaped out of their murderous hands. The leap of General
Putnam at Horseneck was nothing compared with this. He was an excellent
member of the Methodist Church, and his house was one of the choice homes
where the bishop and other preachers were made welcome. His father was
originally from New Jersey, and one of the early pioneers of the West.
At Wheeling Bishop Asbury preached in the Court-house from Heb. ii, 2, 3,
on the great salvation and the danger of neglecting it. We had no house
of worship there at that time. We were kindly entertained by Colonel
Ebenezer Zane, one of the earliest settlers in the West. I was highly
delighted, as well as the bishop, to hear Mr. Zane and his wife (who
was a sister of Samuel and John M’Colloch) relate the thrilling scenes
through which they had passed, and their hair-breadth escapes from wild
beasts and from the murderous savages. She told us about the siege of
the fort, and how she was engaged in running bullets which the men fired
at the Indians who were thirsting for their blood. Mr. Zane was a great
hunter, a man of noble deeds and noble daring, and his history, if fully
written, would be equal to that of Daniel Boone of Kentucky.
Zanesville, Ohio, was named after Colonel Zane. He was not a Methodist,
but a great friend to our people. Mrs. Zane joined the Methodists in
1785, under Wilson Lee. Her cabin was early opened for preaching, and she
made the ministers very welcome. She was a Christian heroine, an honor to
her sex and to the Church.
We left Wheeling and the Zane family, and entered Ohio. That State, so
rich and flourishing now, was then in its infancy, being a child only
six years old. To my great joy Bishop Asbury’s health was improving,
and we rode one hundred and thirteen miles to a camp-meeting at Rush
Creek. Camp-meetings were numerous then, and attended with great success.
They were not merely for visiting or pastime, but to save souls. Their
character in some parts of the county has greatly changed. We had four
sermons a day. On Sunday John Sale, then in his palmy days, preached
early in the morning; Bishop Asbury followed at eleven; and I, at three
o’clock, gave a sermon in English, and concluded in German. There was
considerable of a move, many convicted crying for mercy. We then went to
Chilicothe, and were the guests of Dr. Edward Tiffin.
On Thursday, August 11, in compliance with an invitation, we visited
General Thomas Worthington, one of the candidates for governor. Dr.
Tiffin married his sister Mary, a woman of remarkable sweetness and
loveliness. The general was a very fine man, and was elected to the
governorship. He resided in a splendid mansion called Mount Prospect Hall.
Mr. Asbury felt keenly the loss of the general’s sister. He went to her
grave and sighed there, and made the following record: “Within sight of
this beautiful mansion lies the precious dust of Mary Tiffin. It was
as much as I could do to forbear weeping as I mused over her speaking
grave. How mutely eloquent! Ah, the world knows little of my sorrows;
little know how dear to me are my many friends, and how deeply I feel
their loss; but they all die in the Lord, and this shall comfort me.
I delivered my soul here. May this dear family feel an answer to Mary
Tiffin’s prayers.”
On our tour in 1811 we visited Governor Worthington, and he requested
the bishop to write an appropriate inscription for the tombstone of his
sister. He took his pen and wrote this: “And Mary hath chosen that good
part that shall not be taken away from her.” These words are upon the
tombstone of that excellent woman. Who would not exclaim,
“O that I could forever sit
With Mary at the Master’s feet!
Be this my happy choice,” etc.
On Friday, 12th, we attended a camp-meeting at Deer Creek. There were
twenty-three preachers, traveling and local, and about two thousand
people on the ground, and a multitude of tents; and some people put up in
their covered wagons.
This camp-meeting was near White Brown’s, and we were entertained by him.
He was a noble man, a sterling Methodist. He was a nephew of Thomas White
of Delaware. Asbury used to preach at White Brown’s on the Peninsula in
Maryland as early as 1779. He emigrated to Ohio in the early part of this
century.
Mr. Asbury delighted to put up with his old friend, whom he had known
in the East, and with whom he had had an unbroken friendship for nearly
forty years.
Several sermons of great pathos and power were preached on the ground.
One of the most remarkable was by Dr. Tiffin, ex-governor of Ohio, from
“What is a man profited,” etc. The doctor threw his whole soul into it as
he dwelt upon the soul’s immense value and its amazing loss, and the fact
that nothing can compensate for such a loss. His appeals to the heart and
conscience were almost irresistible. His voice was musical, his gestures
were rapid, and his countenance expressed all his tongue uttered. There
was a mighty work among the people during the day, and it continued all
night.
On Sunday morning John Sale, presiding elder of the Ohio District,
preached from Psalm xlv, 13. He was an able preacher and a good
disciplinarian. He had much natural dignity, and was remarkably
courteous. He had a fine form, intelligent countenance, and a dark eye
that was very expressive.
The bishop preached at eleven o’clock, and Dr. Monnett gave an eloquent
discourse immediately after from Psalm cxviii, 15, 16, “The voice of
rejoicing and salvation is in the tabernacles of the righteous,” etc. In
the evening Benjamin Lakin preached on Christian purity from 2 Cor. vii,
1. Over forty were converted beside the witnesses of perfect love.
Deer Creek was the first circuit traveled by Henry B. Bascom when he was
a stripling.
On Tuesday the 16th we journeyed twenty-three miles to the edge of the
prairies. We tarried at the “New Purchase” with a hospitable family
named Wood, who had emigrated from Pennsylvania.[18] The next morning
at six o’clock we were on our journey, and rode eighteen miles through
the prairies. The bishop and I must have been talking about the prairies,
for in our journals on that day we both make a similar record. He says:
“The prairies have once been, I suppose, lakes of water; they furnish
grand and beautiful views still.” I wrote: “We rode through the prairies,
which, from their appearance, must have been covered with large lakes or
ponds; now they furnish extensive ranges for stock.”
On Wednesday we passed through Xenia to Frederick Bonner’s, at Little
Miami. This was one of the great families of Methodism in the West, one
of the bishop’s excellent homes, and they looked for his annual visit as
they would for an angel’s. Here we rested one day. Brother Bonner was an
early friend of Rev, Freeborn Garrettson, and knew him from the time he
began to preach. He was a Methodist in Maryland before he emigrated to
Ohio. John Sale married a daughter of Frederick Bonner.
The bishop was satisfied that he crossed the Alleghany Mountains at
the wrong time of the year. He not only talked about it, but made this
singular record: “I have more than once put the wrong foot foremost in
my journeys to the West: the spring will not do because of wet and deep
and dismal roads; the summer’s extreme heat, and the small green flies,
make disagreeable traveling. I make a decree, but not of the Medes and
Persians, never in future to cross the mountains before the first of
September, nor leave Carlisle before the first of October.”
On Friday we were the guests of Rev. John Sale, who at one time had
almost the whole state of Ohio for his district.
On Sunday the bishop preached at Xenia Court-house on Col. i, 28, “Whom
we preach.” There were about five hundred to hear him. I tried to clinch
the nail the bishop had been driving. We went to Peter Pelham’s, another
of the bishop’s choice homes, where he delighted to rest his weary head.
This was a most respectable family. They had emigrated to Ohio from Old
Virginia.
This night we were very unfortunate, for our horses were lost and in the
morning could not be found. Our appointments were out in advance, and the
people must not be disappointed, so we borrowed horses and on we went to
Samuel Hitt’s, (brother of Daniel,) and then to Widow Smith’s, where the
bishop preached. By the time he had finished his discourse our horses
were there. Brothers Sale and Pelham had gone in pursuit of them, found
them, and then brought them to us.
On the 26th we went to the house of Rev. Philip Gatch, one of the
bishop’s famous homes. A camp-meeting was held there, and the bishop was
delighted to greet many of his old friends whose society he greatly
enjoyed. The meeting was attended by the mighty power of God, and over
fifty were converted; but I was suffering so with inflammation in my
eyes that I did not attend till Sabbath. I spoke to the crowd in German.
I must have looked comical enough, for I had a blister behind each ear,
and a bandage around my head and over my eyes. Immediately after my
exhortation the bishop preached to two thousand people. On Monday evening
I preached in German at Brother Gatch’s house. The family were very kind
to me, and I parted invoking the blessing of God to rest upon them.
These noble families I have mentioned emigrated from Virginia and
Maryland, which were slave states, to Ohio, a free state. They abominated
slavery and slave soil, and they emancipated their slaves before they
left for Ohio. This I had from their own lips. All honor to their memory
for their noble deeds! At that day we preached against holding human
beings in bondage. I did it early on the Peninsula, as my journal will
show.
On Friday, September 2, we reached Cincinnati, and were the guests of
Brother Lines. This is a family given to hospitality, and therefore
deserving of grateful remembrance. Cincinnati was first settled by
emigrants from New England and New Jersey. At the time of our visit it
was a small village of less than two thousand inhabitants.
The first Methodist sermon in Cincinnati was preached in an upper room
to twelve hearers, in 1804, by Rev. John Collins. The next who preached
there was John Sale, who organized a society of eight persons, just as
many as were in the ark. The first Methodist chapel was erected in 1806,
and was built of stone. In this church the bishop and I both preached.
He gave an admirable sermon in the morning from 2 Cor. v, 14, “For the
love of Christ constraineth us,” etc., and then called on me to preach
immediately after in the German language. I did so from John i, 11, 12,
“He came unto his own and his own received him not.” This is believed
to be the first sermon preached in Cincinnati in the German language;
certainly it was the first Methodist sermon in that tongue. In the
afternoon Brother Lakin preached from Luke xvi, 8; and I again in the
evening, in English.
I made this record in my journal: “The house was crowded both day and
night; there is a good prospect in this town for a revival of religion.”
This record was made fifty-seven years ago. Was it prophetic? How strange
it sounds now to speak of “the Queen City of the West” as “this town.”
Bishop Asbury advised the society to enlarge their house of worship, and
to invite the Western Conference to hold its next session there. They did
so, and the invitation was accepted.
On Tuesday we left Cincinnati, accompanied by Brother and Sister Lakin.
We put up in Lawrenceburgh, in the Indiana territory, with Elijah
Sparks. He had moved from Maryland, and was a brother of Robert Sparks.
Elijah was a local preacher and a lawyer. The Indiana territory was
then one vast wilderness. The bishop said: “In this wild there may be
twenty thousand souls already. I feel for them.” How would his great soul
rejoice if he could return to that territory and see a rich populous
state teeming with inhabitants and four flourishing annual conferences!
In what Mr. Asbury called “that wild” there are now one million three
hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants.
In traveling the Indiana territory the next day, in thirty-three miles we
passed only six houses. This will give an idea of the sparseness of the
population at that time. “The wilderness and the solitary place has been
made glad, and the desert has rejoiced and blossomed as the rose.”
We crossed the Ohio at the mouth of the Licking River in what Mr. Asbury
most appropriately called a “crazy flat.” With great difficulty we
reached the other side. It was leaking, and like to have sunk with the
bishop and all on board; but we were mercifully preserved.
THE WESTERN CONFERENCE.
We had but seven conferences at that time. The Western Conference
included all the vast tract of country lying west of the Alleghanies as
far as it was settled with whites, with the exception of Monongahela
District, which belonged to Baltimore Conference. It was a field that was
widening and expanding every day.
The conference met on October 1 at Liberty Hill, Tenn., at Rev. Green
Hill’s. He was a local preacher, had emigrated from North Carolina, where
Bishop Asbury had been well acquainted with him.
A conference was held at his house in North Carolina as early as 1785,
and Dr. Coke and Asbury were both there. Another conference was held
there in 1792, at which Bishop Asbury presided. He and his family
emigrated to Tennessee when all was a wilderness, and they had to make
their way through a cane-brake to the place where their house was
located. Liberty Hill was twelve miles west of Nashville, and Nashville
was then but a very small village. This was the first conference I
attended with Bishop Asbury as his aid, and all I saw and heard were full
of interest.
It was the first conference William M’Kendree attended as bishop. I saw
him when he filled the episcopal chair for the first time, and so I did
Bishop Whatcoat. M’Kendree had left Baltimore at the close of the General
Conference and gone West by the most direct route. He was one of the
fathers of the Western Conference, where his influence was unbounded. The
preachers gave the new bishop as well as the old one a hearty welcome.
There was a camp-meeting connected with the conference, and the preachers
ate and slept in their tents. There were eighty ministers present,
and there had been an increase of twenty-five hundred members during
the year. It was a most pleasant conference, and the discussions were
interesting.
There were noble men belonging to the conference: Learner Blackman,
William Burke, John Sale, Jacob Young, and James Ward. These were the
presiding elders, and they were on districts that were large enough
for conferences. There were present also Jesse Walker, the pioneer of
Missouri. He was a young man then, only six years in the ministry. Samuel
Parker, the Cicero of the West. He was a deacon. Peter Cartwright, young,
strong, courageous; but he had not graduated to elders’ orders. Twelve
were admitted on trial, six ordained deacons, and ten elders, among whom
was the eccentric James Axley.
The names of the districts now appear strange: Ohio District, John Sale,
Presiding Elder; Kentucky District, William Burke; Mississippi District,
Jacob Young.
Some of the appointments also sound still more strangely to our ears:
Illinois, John Clingan; Missouri, Jesse Walker. What a foundation they
were laying for the opening future! Noble, self-sacrificing men as earth
ever saw or the Church was ever blessed with were these pioneers of the
West. With a single exception, I believe they are now passed away. “Our
fathers, where are they? and the prophets, do they live forever?”
CHAPTER XX.
FIRST VISIT TO THE SOUTH.
The next day after the Western Conference adjourned the two bishops and
myself started for the South Carolina Conference, which was to meet in
Liberty Chapel, Green County, Georgia, on December 6, 1808.
There was a novelty and variety about my present large field of labor
which made it peculiarly interesting. I had been to what was then the
West, (it would be difficult to tell where it is now,) and I was highly
delighted, and now I was on my way to the sunny South. And I had the
wisest and best companions in the world. This was the first tour which
M’Kendree made with Bishop Asbury after his ordination to the episcopal
office. Everywhere the old and the new bishop were objects of interest,
and their appearance hailed with joy.
On Monday we reached Dr. Henry Tooley’s. This was a family of note, and
their house one of the best of homes. Here we rested and refitted, and
prepared to climb the mountains and to penetrate the wilderness, for all
this must be done before we could reach Georgia. On we went, preaching
every evening, till on Saturday we fell in with a camp-meeting at
Ohaver’s.
On Sunday morning Brother Learner Blackman, Presiding Elder of Holston
District, preached at sunrise, I preached at ten o’clock, and then Bishop
M’Kendree gave one of his overwhelming discourses, after which I preached
again in the German language. Bishop Asbury then preached with great
liberty. We were at it five hours without intermission, during which time
the people heard four sermons in English and one in German, and yet we
were not through, for in the evening John Henninger preached, and Nathan
Barnes exhorted. Thus ended this memorable day. It was a time of uncommon
power, and many were converted. What would people think now of listening
to six sermons in one day? How would they get along who can hardly endure
one?
The next morning the bishops preached again: Bishop Asbury first, and
Bishop M’Kendree immediately after him. I have written, “It was a solemn,
searching time.”
To benefit the Germans I took a little tour by myself, while the bishops
went forward. Bishop Asbury makes this entry in his journal: “Henry Boehm
has gone to Pigeon River to preach to the Dutch.” I preached six times,
and then rode on to overtake the bishops. After riding twenty miles I
learned they were still far in the advance of me, and had gone on to
Buncombe. On Thursday I hastened on to overtake them. I went over the
lofty hills and mountains and solitary valleys along the banks of the
French Broad. This is an astonishing river in its meanderings through
beautiful valleys and mountain gorges, with overhanging rocks. Here
nature is seen in her beauty and grandeur, and I wonderfully admired that
day the works of nature as one scene after another broke on my delighted
vision.
That night I lodged at Barnett’s Station.[19] This was a public house,
partly over the mountain, where multitudes of travelers put up. We
carried our religion wherever we went, and always hoisted our colors.
Bishop Asbury taught us, both by precept and example, to be valiant for
the truth. So the travelers were called together, and I gave them an
exhortation, and prayed with the family. All were civil, respectful, and
attentive to what was said.
On Friday I rode to Buncombe, expecting to find the bishops there.
Buncombe County is in the western part of North Carolina, joining
Tennessee. It was nine days before I overtook them. On Monday, November
2, I found them at Samuel Edney’s,[20] one of the bishop’s choice homes.
We were overjoyed to see each other.
It was a tremendous task to descend from the lofty mountain. The ascent
was rough and fatiguing, but the descent still more difficult. On we
went, the bishop preaching every day and several times on the Sabbath
till we reached Waxhaw, South Carolina, famous for being the birthplace
of Andrew Jackson. Here at this time Bishop Asbury ordained Robert
Hancock, who was a respectable local preacher. There were many private
ordinations of that kind in those days.
We arrived at Camden and put up with Samuel Matthis. On Sabbath morning
Bishop Asbury preached from Ephes. v, 8, on walking as children of the
light. At three I held forth from John i, 9, and in the evening Bishop
M’Kendree preached from “worship God.” Immediately after the first sermon
Brother Jackson, who was the preacher, met the colored people, about
three hundred in number, to whom I preached from Luke ix, 62, on putting
the hand to the plow and looking back. The colored people are fond of
figures; such a text suited them. I told them if a man was plowing and he
should look back, he would make a very crooked furrow. A circle of smiles
passed over their black faces when they heard this. A colored brother
in a love-feast said, “I have put my hand to the Gospel plow, and I am
determined to plow my furrow clean up to glory.” Another, in relating
his experience, said, “Bredren, I cannot exactly tell it, but when I was
converted two suns rose dat morning sartin.” This was a beautiful figure.
He was converted just as the natural sun was rising, and that moment the
Sun of Righteousness arose with healing in its wings and shone into his
dark soul, and he was all light in the Lord.
The next day we went to James Rembert’s. Camp-meeting began here on
Wednesday, November 23. Bishop M’Kendree opened the campaign by preaching
at seven o’clock from 1 Cor. xv, 48, “Therefore, my beloved brethren,
be ye steadfast,” etc. A mighty man was Bishop M’Kendree on great
occasions: they woke up the giant, and he put forth all his strength. In
the afternoon Bishop Asbury preached one of his massive sermons from “Go
through, go through the gates, prepare ye the way of the people,” etc.
The next day there was preaching by James Jenkins, Morris Mathis, Bishop
M’Kendree, and myself. I wrote in my journal: “The Lord was in his word
through the day and evening. A general shout in the camp this evening;
some powerfully converted.”
On Friday there were five sermons, the preachers being Lovick Pierce,
Bishop Asbury, Henry Boehm, James Jenkins, and I again at night. There
were forty tents and cabins. It being very late in the season they had
fireplaces in the tents, so the people kept very comfortable. The meeting
was held late in the year, not only because the people were in the spirit
of camp-meetings, but also to have the presence of two bishops. There was
a cabin neatly fitted up with its chimney and fireplace for the bishops.
In regard to the result of this meeting Bishop Asbury says: “There was
a powerful work among white saints and sinners, and the poor oppressed,
neglected Africans.” And Bishop Capers says: “The camp-meeting was one
of the best I have ever known.” I had attended four camp-meetings in the
West, and this was the first in the South.
It was here I first saw the Southern preachers, and for the first time
that beautiful and amiable youth, William Capers. He, as my readers know,
became one of the strong men of the South. At this time he had not been
licensed to preach; he had traveled as an exhorter, and at a quarterly
conference held at this camp-meeting he was licensed to preach and also
recommended to the Annual Conference. Two of William Capers’s brothers,
John and Gabriel, were here converted, and his father was reconciled with
Bishop Asbury. Mr. Asbury used to preach at his father’s house years
before, but Mr. Hammett had prejudiced his mind against the bishop, and
for seventeen years he had been estranged from him. But I prefer that
William Capers tell his own story. “At this camp-meeting I first saw
Bishop Asbury. I was introduced to him immediately on his first coming
to the camp-meeting, as I happened to be in the preachers’ tent at the
time of his arrival. I approached him timidly, and with a feeling of
veneration; but, ‘Ah,’ said he, ‘this is the baby; come and let me hug
you,’ meaning that I was the baby when he was last at my father’s house.
On my father’s entering the tent, he rose hastily from his seat and met
him with his arms extended, and they embraced each other with mutual
emotion. It had been seventeen years since they had seen each other, and
yet the bishop asked after Sally and Gabriel, as if it had been but a few
months, and repeated, gleefully, ‘I have got the baby!’ It was evident no
common friendship had subsisted between them; and how much happier had
those years of estrangement been to my honored father if they had been
passed in the fellowship he had been seduced to leave.” Mr. Capers well
adds the following, worthy to be written in a conspicuous place: “I hate
schism; I abhor it as the very track and trail of him who, as a roaring
lion, walketh about seeking whom he may devour.”[21]
All the preachers who were at that camp-meeting in 1808 have gone the way
whence they will not return, except Lovick Pierce and myself.
James Rembert, with whom we were staying, was a large man in body, and
equally large in soul. He was very wealthy and very benevolent. He
lived in a place called Rembert’s Settlement; there was a church called
Rembert’s Chapel, and James Rembert was the honored patriarch. Bishop
Asbury had been here to Rembert’s Hall several times before, and always
had a hearty welcome.
On Monday the 28th we left Rembert’s Hall and started for Charleston.
On our arrival we were the guests of Dr. William Phœbus, who was the
stationed preacher. In former years I preached at his brother John’s, on
the eastern shore of Maryland. The doctor was a most eccentric genius.
There was dignity about him, and yet he was peculiarly odd. He was,
however, quite a philosopher, and did noble service for Methodism.
We remained in Charleston for several days, and both bishops preached
almost daily. I also preached there several times. Never was I more
delighted than with my visit to Charleston and the Charleston Methodists.
There was a zeal and warmth among them I much admired. They not only
lived in a warm climate, but had warm hearts. I wrote thus in my journal:
“The Lord has a kind and loving people in this city. The prospects of
Zion are very promising in this place.” Wonders has God done for the
Methodists in Charleston since I made this record. But alas, what a
change has come over the city! How has the fine gold become dim! It was
a sad day for them when secession was born, and they fired upon Fort
Sumter and the old time-honored flag.
We were several days in reaching the seat of the South Carolina
Conference, and crossed several rivers on the way. On Wednesday the
15th Bishop M’Kendree preached a very ingenious sermon on 1 Peter i,
13, “Wherefore gird up the loins of your mind,” etc. He was perfectly
original in his mode of illustration. He said the loins were the weakest
part of the body, and therefore the necessity of strengthening them.
We were to gird the weak places. He applied to diligent attention,
watchfulness, etc. It was a striking discourse, impressive both in matter
and manner.
On Saturday we reached Augusta in Georgia. This day we dined in the
woods. It was nothing new; and the bishops were just as grateful over
their dry morsel, and would ask a blessing as fervently over it as over
some of the sumptuous dinners of the wealthy.
Bishop Asbury preached in Augusta in the morning, M’Kendree in the
afternoon, and I in the evening. Mr. Asbury makes this mournful record:
“Sunday, 18, my flesh sinks under labor. We are riding in a poor
thirty-dollar chaise, in partnership; two bishops of us, but it must be
confessed it tallies well with the weight of our purse: what bishops!
Well, but we have great views, and we have great times, and the Western,
Southern, and Virginia Conferences will have one thousand souls truly
converted to God; and is this not an equivalent for a light purse? And
are we not well paid for starving and for toil? Yes. Glory to God!” This
record is characteristic of the sainted Asbury. The bishops rode in a
carriage, and I on horseback, a kind of body-guard.
On Saturday the 24th we reached Liberty Chapel, near Milledgeville, the
seat of the conference. It was held in the house where the bishops were
entertained, commencing on Monday, December 26, 1808. The day before
being Christmas, Bishop Asbury preached a sermon from John iii, 17, on
the design of God in sending his Son into the world.
At the opening of the conference Bishop Asbury, in a very appropriate
manner, introduced the new bishop to them. The preachers received him
joyfully. Every member, one after another, went forward and gave the
bishop his right hand, and bade him welcome. The scene was beautiful, and
to Bishop M’Kendree it was as refreshing as the dews of heaven. Sixteen
were received on trial, among others the excellent and eloquent William
Capers. They are all dead. Nine deacons were ordained and six elders.
There were nearly seventy preachers, and the sweetest spirit prevailed.
In connection with the conference they held a camp-meeting. I had never
thought of attending a camp-meeting between Christmas and New Year’s.
I wrote thus: “My heart feels united to my southern brethren in the
bonds of a peaceful Gospel.” Peace and harmony continued throughout the
progress of the conference; preaching, praying, exhortation, shouting,
crying, rejoicing. There were about forty or fifty converted. There were
quite a number of tents and fifteen cabins, and about a thousand people
attended every day.
On the last day of the year a love-feast was held, and it was a precious
time both with preachers and people. Bishop Asbury preached at noon from
1 Peter i, 10-12, “Of which salvation the prophets have inquired,” etc.
It was a masterly sermon, delivered to three thousand people. We had the
sacrament in the evening. There was over three thousand increase in the
South Carolina Conference during the year. It was a glorious year for the
South.
There was a noble class of men in this conference who helped lay the
foundation for the future prosperity of Methodism in the South, James
Jenkins, Hilliard Judge, Lewis Myers, Daniel Asbury, and many others that
we might name.
CHAPTER XXI.
NORTHERN TOUR—VIRGINIA AND BALTIMORE CONFERENCES.
On Monday, January 2, 1809, we left for the Virginia Conference.
In crossing Cashaway Ferry we just escaped drowning. It was most
providential. We were oft in perils on the land and on the water. Part
of our journey was on a muddy road, through a forlorn-looking tract of
marshy country. No wonder Bishop Asbury said in reference to it, “My
limbs, my patience, and my faith have been put to a severe trial.”
Fayetteville was one hundred and thirty miles from Camden, the route we
took. “We had a cold, fatiguing ride, especially for Father Asbury, who
certainly is astonishingly supported under almost incredible toil for a
man upward of sixty-three, amid perpetual exertion of body and mind and
constant affliction.” So I wrote fifty-five years ago, when I witnessed
him in labors more abundant, and his martyr sufferings which he bore with
a martyr spirit.
The Virginia Conference for 1809 met in Tarborough on February 1. This
was my introduction to the Virginia Methodist preachers, and a fine body
of men they were; and it was Bishop M’Kendree’s first visit to them as
superintendent. Virginia was dear to him as his native state and his
spiritual birthplace, and the scenes of his early itinerant labors. There
were eighty-four preachers present, and only three of them married. It
was properly called the “Bachelor” Conference. We also had bachelor
bishops. Bishop Asbury was delighted with the appearance of the men. He
said, “Many of them are the most elegant young men I have ever seen in
features, body, and mind; they are manly, and yet meek.”
I had an opportunity of hearing their great preachers, and seeing how
they transacted business. Indeed, I was honored with preaching the first
sermon at eleven o’clock the day the conference commenced. My text was
Prov. xviii, 10. I felt as if I was talking before giants. Hilliard
Judge, a visitor from South Carolina Conference, preached from Job xxi,
15, “What is the Almighty,” etc. Jesse Lee followed with a powerful
exhortation. The work of God revived, and souls were converted.
On Friday afternoon at three o’clock we enjoyed a rich treat. Bishop
M’Kendree preached an ordination sermon from 2 Tim. ii, 15, “Study to
show thyself approved unto God,” etc. It was attended with great unction.
Thirteen deacons were ordained, among them John Early, now one of the
bishops of the Southern Methodist Episcopal Church.
Jesse Lee preached on Sunday in the court-house one of his ingenious
sermons from Deut. xxix, 29, “The secret things belong unto the Lord our
God,” etc. He said if the Lord has been so kind as to intrust his secrets
to any, those who revealed them treated the Lord unkindly. He left the
“secret things” with God, where they belonged. Then he dwelt largely and
forcibly upon “revealed” things: the subject of redemption as revealed to
us by the prophets of the Old Testament and the evangelists and apostles
of the new, and showed they belong to us with all their benefits, and are
not confined to us, but extend to our children. There was a melting time
under this sermon. In the afternoon Jesse Lee preached again from Heb.
vii, 12, “For the priesthood being changed, there is made of necessity
a change of the law.” He gave us some fine thoughts on the necessity of
the change of priesthood, and the necessity there was of a change in
the ceremonial law, and the advantages of such a change. He was plain,
practical, and powerful. There was a great stir among the people, and
a number sought and found the Lord. In the evening Thomas L. Douglass
preached a great sermon on the value of the human soul and the danger of
its loss. He was one of the great men of Methodism, and at that time one
of the pillars of the Virginia Conference.
On Monday I preached again from Matt. xi, 28, 29. On Tuesday I heard
Philip Bruce from Matt. v, 8, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they
shall see God.” A sweet sermon on Christian purity. He was a charming man
as well as a charming preacher. He went through Virginia and Carolina
like a flame of fire and of love.
We had a cold uncomfortable ride from Tarboro’ to Harrisonburg, Va.,
the seat of the Baltimore Conference. We reached Norfolk on Saturday.
Methodism was early introduced into this place by Robert Williams; indeed
he was the Apostle of Methodism in Virginia. He arrived in this country
before Richard Boardman and Joseph Pilmoor. Mr. Pilmoor also did early
service in this place to the cause of truth.
On Tuesday we reached Petersburgh and stayed with Edward Lee, a brother
of Jesse Lee, and father of Rev. Leroy M. Lee of the Virginia Conference.
We also stayed one night with a man by the name of Bradly, who had just
been converted. There was something very singular about his conversion.
He was home alone one Sabbath reading his prayer-book, when as sudden as
lightning he was awakened, dropped his prayer-book, and fell on his knees
and prayed without a book for the Lord to have mercy on his soul. Heaven
heard his prayer and forgave him. He had a number of race-horses when
converted. These he parted with at once, for old things had passed away
and all things become new.
On Saturday we reached Richmond and stayed over the Sabbath, preaching
there and at Manchester. We were glad to see our early friend, Archibald
Foster, who had been a traveling preacher for several years. He was
originally from Ireland. He married the daughter of old Mr. Hynson,
the founder of Hynson’s Chapel, in Kent County, Maryland. I formed his
acquaintance in 1802. His family was given to hospitality.
Methodism had to struggle hard for an existence in Richmond. It was long
an up-hill business. The first society was formed in 1793. They early
preached in the court-house, but were turned out on account of their
noise. Then a noble woman by the name of Parrott fitted up a large room
for preaching in her barn or stable. Here Asbury and M’Kendrick preached
at an early day.
Thomas Lyell was stationed here in 1799, and he was unboundedly popular,
and succeeded in building a church. This is the house in which Mr. Asbury
preached his last sermon.
Stith Mead was stationed at Richmond. He was one of the purest and most
zealous men in our connection; a man full of faith and the Holy Ghost. He
preached to the prisoners in the Penitentiary, and the word of God was
quick and powerful; and there was a great revival, and he formed classes
of the converted prisoners. They used to pray in their rooms and sing,
and make the old walls ring with their shouts of praise. I went with
him to the prison and we held divine service there. I was well pleased
with the devotional appearance of the prisoners. One young man, after he
professed religion, was pardoned by the Governor. Much good Mr. Mead did
among the poor friendless prisoners; and no doubt Jesus will say to him,
“I was sick and in prison, and ye visited me.”
We left Richmond and pursued our journey, having the company of Bishop
M’Kendree. On Tuesday we had a peculiar day: 1st. We rode forty-five
miles without food for ourselves or our horses—both man and beast fasted.
2d. Twice on that day we got lost in the woods, and wandered round and
round to find our way out. Bishop M’Kendree preached in the evening. On
Friday we passed within sight of Monticello, the famous seat of Thomas
Jefferson. It occupied a lofty eminence, from which there was a most
extensive prospect.
We crossed the Blue Ridge to Harrisonburgh. The roads were in a sad
condition, and the snow was deep in crossing the mountain. I ruined a
valuable horse on this route, and parted with him for a trifle when I
reached Philadelphia. This county was early settled by Germans. It was
this region my father visited in 1761, where he obtained new light, which
he scattered with holy zeal. I traveled here with him in 1800.
The Baltimore Conference commenced its session on Thursday, March 2.
Besides the business of the conference, which was done in great harmony,
there was preaching three times a day; I preached in German. There were
ten young men received on probation; among them was Beverly Waugh,
a handsome young man, afterward book-agent and bishop; Joseph Frye,
brother of Christopher;[22] and Simon Lauck, one of my father’s spiritual
sons; he was awakened in 1800 under a sermon my father preached in the
Methodist church in Winchester.
We hastened on through Winchester and Harper’s Ferry to Baltimore.
This was always a favorite place with the bishop; it was the scene of
his early labors, and the people were always kind to him. On Sunday he
preached morning and evening in Light-street. The next day we attended a
camp-meeting near Perry Hall. Bishop Asbury not being very well, preached
in the camp-meeting chapel on “Work out your own salvation with fear and
trembling,” etc. He was deeply affected as he passed the grave of his
late friend, Harry Gough, and said, “his image came up before him.”
Onward we went to Delaware. March 27 found us at Barratt’s Chapel. Father
Asbury always thought much of the children of the earliest Methodists.
We see it in regard to the children of Thomas White and Philip Barratt,
the founder of Barratt’s Chapel. At this time he said, “I have powerful
feelings of sympathy for the children and the grand-children of that
holy man in life and death, Philip Barratt.” He then had the pleasure of
baptizing some of his descendants. He was much rejoiced also to meet here
his dear friends, Governor Bassett and his excellent wife, who went forty
miles to see him. How strong the friendship that subsisted between them!
We had a cold uncomfortable ride for many days, and no wonder the old man
of God wrote in such a melancholy strain: “I have suffered incredibly
by the cold in the last one hundred and thirty miles: souls and their
Saviour can reward me, and nothing else! Lord, remember Francis Asbury in
all his labors and afflictions.”
Friday was a joyful day to me, and not to me only, but to others, as
will be seen by the following record made by Asbury: “I preached at
Keagy’s. Brother M’Kendree and Father Boehm met me once more, and we
greatly rejoiced in God together.” Abraham Keagy had married my only
sister, Barbara. Bishop Asbury and my father never met without a thrill
of delight. I had not seen my loved father for ten months, a longer time
than I had ever been absent from him before, and he embraced me in his
arms.
The third of April, 1809, the Philadelphia Conference met in St.
George’s, Philadelphia. Bishops M’Kendree and Asbury were both present.
It was a privilege to see my brethren, “true yoke-fellows,” after the
absence of a year. There were eighty-four preachers present. Fourteen
were received on trial, some of whom have since filled prominent stations
in the Church, among whom were Stephen Martindale and Loring Grant.
Fourteen were ordained deacons, one of whom was Peter P. Sandford. My
early friend, Thomas Burch, was ordained elder, and also George Lane,
long our book agent, a man of uncommon purity, and seven others.
It may be asked to whom I was amenable when I traveled with Bishop
Asbury. I answer, To the Philadelphia Conference. It may be asked who
represented me, as I had no presiding elder. I answer, Bishop Asbury.
When the question was asked, “Is there anything against Henry Boehm?” the
bishop was the only person who could answer it, for he was the only one
who knew how I spent the year, and he would answer, with great gravity,
“Nothing against Brother Boehm.” It may be asked how I was supported
while I traveled with the bishop. I answer, I received it from the
different conferences, just as the bishops did theirs. My salary was one
hundred dollars.
At the adjournment of the conference Bishop M’Kendree went direct to
Elizabethtown. Bishop Asbury and myself made a tour of twenty days
through the lower and eastern part of New Jersey. He was everywhere
hailed as an apostle. He had not been over this route in twenty-five
years.
We started to go to Brother Blackman’s, father of Learner Blackman.
We were to have been there at three o’clock. Charles Reed was to have
piloted us, but he did not come. We got lost in the pines, and we went
round and round without making much progress. We arrived there two
hours after the time, and found Charles Reed preaching. He ceased on
our arrival, and the bishop commenced; but our long, tedious ride had
perfectly unfitted him for preaching, and after saying a few words he
suddenly stopped, and called out, “Henry, you must preach, for I cannot.”
Quick as thought these words came in my mind, “And all thy children shall
be taught of the Lord, and great shall be the peace of thy children.”
I had extraordinary liberty, and all got happy, and among the rest the
bishop, who then rose and gave a discourse of great power.
Here was the natural and spiritual birthplace of that distinguished
minister of the Western Conference, Learner Blackman. The bishop made
this record: “Learner Blackman has been raised up from small appearances
possibly to very great consequences.” There can be no doubt of this if he
had not been drowned in the Ohio River.
Space would fail to tell of Absecom, Tuckerton, Waretown, Polhemus’s
Chapel, Squam River, and Shark River, where also the bishop preached. At
the last place, as the men were fishing, and his congregation composed
of women, he preached on Martha and Mary, Luke x, 41, 42, and adds,
“Ah, how many Marthas are there, and how few Marys!” I might inquire,
What kind of a world would we have if all the women were Marys? Has not
injustice often been done to Martha? Do we not need a union of both
Martha’s zeal and Mary’s love?
Sunday, April 30, we spent at Long Branch. Mr. Asbury preached, from
Acts iii, 26, a sermon of great strength. This has become a famous
watering-place. Hundreds resort here from Philadelphia and New York to
spend the summer. Here the broad Atlantic Ocean is seen in her glory.
Methodism has greatly prospered here.
We then went to Staten Island and put up with Rev. Joseph Totten. He
was presiding elder of Jersey District, which included the whole of
New Jersey and Staten Island. Methodism was early introduced on this
beautiful island by Francis Asbury. It was always a favorite place with
him. He preached here before he did in the city of New York. As he was
on his way from Burlington to New York he came across a gentleman by the
name of P. Vanpelt, who had heard him preach in Philadelphia, and he
invited Mr. Asbury to go with him to Staten Island.
On Saturday, May 6, we went to Elizabethtown. In crossing the Narrows
we saw for the first time a vessel moving without sails, and to us it
was a great curiosity, neither Bishop Asbury nor myself ever having
seen a steamboat before. We gazed upon it with wonderful interest, as
the following extracts from our journals will show. The bishop wrote,
“My attention was strongly excited by the steamboat. This is, indeed,
a great invention.” My record reads thus: “At Elizabeth Point we saw a
packet which goes by steam, a wheel on each side like a flutter wheel.
The vessel is about eighty feet long, and travels one mile against wind
and tide in about eighteen minutes.” All this must sound strange to the
reader who is familiar with steamboats, floating palaces, and steamships
that plow the ocean, and bring continents into one neighborhood.
At Elizabethtown we stopped with Rev. Thomas Morrell, who lived there in
a fine mansion. The bishop and Mr. Morrell were very intimate. They loved
each other as brothers, and often corresponded. He considered Mr. Morrell
wise in counsel. Mr. Morrell had been an officer under Washington during
the Revolutionary War, and had been wounded in battle. He was also a bold
soldier of the cross, and filled some very important appointments. He was
then in deep mourning, having lost his excellent wife, the mother of the
amiable and beloved Francis Asbury Morrell of the New Jersey Conference.
Methodism was introduced here as early as 1785 by John Haggarty. Here
Rev. George G. Cookman made his earliest efforts in this country. Joseph
Holdich in the early part of his ministry preached here, and here he
found his excellent wife.
In the old Episcopal church Samuel Spaggs was rector. He preached in
John-street Church, New York, during the whole of the Revolutionary War,
being then a minister in our Church. He died here, and had a tablet in
the old church.
At Elizabethtown we met Bishop M’Kendree. He preached in the morning,
and Bishop Asbury in the evening. Bishop M’Kendree and I went to Newark,
where he preached from Prov. i, 23, “Turn you at my reproof,” etc.
Here we saw the Rev. John Dow, and at his request I accompanied him
to Belleville, four miles from Newark, a pretty little village on the
Passaic, where I preached in the evening from 1 John i, 9.
Methodism was introduced in Belleville much earlier than in Newark, and a
stone church built. John Dow was a local elder, a man of fine talent and
sterling integrity. He was several times a member of the Legislature. The
Rev. Isaac N. Felch of the New Jersey Conference married his daughter.
Here the eloquent Nicholas Snethen used to tend a mill; here he was
converted, and commenced his first public exercises. Here Peter P.
Sandford was converted and went out into the itinerant work. This is
enough to give this place a Methodistic celebrity.
In Newark we stopped at Richard Leycraft’s. This was for some time the
only home for Methodist itinerants in Newark. There was a very small
class here, only three years old, and a little edifice was erected in
Halsey-street. This is a mother of a numerous and thriving family. What
a contrast between 1809 and the present, when we have ten churches in
Newark, some of them the most beautiful in the country, among which are
Central and Broad-street Churches. I little thought then that we should
ever have a Newark Conference, and that I should be a member of it. The
Methodists in Newark are among the most liberal and enterprising in
America. Newark is a place of uncommon beauty, with splendid parks and
lofty elms, and Broad-street is one of the finest in America.
CHAPTER XXII.
FIRST VISIT TO NEW YORK CITY—NEW YORK AND NEW ENGLAND CONFERENCES.
On Monday, May 7, 1809, we left Newark for New York. Crossing the
beautiful Passaic river, and then the Hackensack, we passed a singular
elevation called Snake Hill, and then through Bergen, an old Dutch town
almost as old as New York. From Bergen Hill we had a magnificent view
of the beautiful bay of New York and of the city. For the first time I
beheld the noble Hudson. At Powles Hook we crossed the river. There was
no Jersey City then. The spot where that city now is appeared to be a
kind of island of sand. There were scarcely any houses. Jersey City was
not incorporated till 1820; now it has thirty thousand inhabitants, and
we have four beautiful Methodist churches there.
Our place of entertainment in New York was John Mills’s, near the
corner of Fulton-street and Broadway. He was an excellent man, an elder
in the “Brick” Presbyterian church, (Dr. Spring’s.) His wife was a
charming woman, and belonged to the John-street Methodist church. They
were wealthy, and left much property to their descendants. They both
possessed catholic spirits, and theirs was a home for all Christian
ministers.
In the evening I went for the first time to the old church in
John-street, built by Philip Embury, called “Wesley Chapel,” the first
in the world named after Mr. Wesley. What thoughts crowded my mind as I
entered this cradle of Methodism! What rich and hallowed associations
cluster around this original home of Methodism on this continent! I
heard a sermon from James i, 27, on pure religion. The next evening, in
the Bowery Church, I heard Samuel Cochrane preach from Rom. v, 1, on
justification by faith. He had a powerful voice and was not afraid to use
it.
On Tuesday morning at four o’clock we were alarmed with the cry of “Fire,
fire, fire!” It was no false alarm; about thirty houses were burned. It
was truly affecting to see parents and children and the aged and helpless
turned out into the street, not knowing where to go. It was the first
large fire I had ever witnessed.
_May 10._ The New York Conference commenced its session in John-street.
This was the first time I ever beheld the men that composed this
conference. This was Bishop M’Kendree’s first visit as superintendent,
and most heartily they welcomed him. There was great love and unanimity
among the brethren. On Friday Bishop M’Kendree preached an ordination
sermon that was much admired. His text was 2 Cor. v, 20, “Now then we
are embassadors for Christ,” etc. After the sermon Bishop Asbury ordained
twelve deacons, among whom were William Swayze, a most blessed man, who
did noble execution afterward in Ohio; Lewis Pease, distinguished for his
zeal and eloquence; and Phineas Rice. When the case of the latter came up
the conference voted that he was “too funny,” and passed the resolution
that Bishop M’Kendree should reprove him. The bishop did so. Years after
Mr. Rice said, that as he had never been to conference before he supposed
that this was the regular process that all young ministers went through,
and therefore did not feel at all unpleasant.
At that time our conferences were held with closed doors, and local
preachers and probationers were not permitted to be present until they
were received into full membership.
Five were ordained elders; ten were received on trial, among others the
excellent Coles Carpenter, Robert Hibbard, who was drowned in the St.
Lawrence, Isaac Puffer, who was known as the traveling concordance,
and the amiable Marvin Richardson. He is the only survivor, enjoying
a green old age, as straight as he was fifty years ago. He resides at
Poughkeepsie, greatly esteemed.
On Sabbath there was a great love-feast in the Hudson Church, now Duane.
There were fourteen hundred guests at the feast. I wrote in my journal:
“It was a blessed time; O my soul, never forget the gracious visitation
this morning! Many cups were made to run over in loud acclamations to God
and the Lamb.” Bishop Asbury preached in the morning, in John-street,
from Mark x, 23, and in Hudson Church in the afternoon, from Rev. ii, 10.
On Monday evening, by special request, I preached in German, in the
English Lutheran Church, from Luke xix, 10, “For the Son of man is come
to seek and to save that which is lost.” Great attention and great
solemnity. Twice more I preached during the week in the Bowery Church,
(now Forsyth-street,) and in the English Lutheran school-house.
Here I saw for the first time the excellent but eccentric Billy Hibbard.
When the roll was called the secretary read the name “William Hibbard.”
There was no response, and Bishop M’Kendree said, “Brother Hibbard, why
don’t you answer to your name and not keep the conference waiting?” “I
will,” said Mr. Hibbard, “when he calls my name.” “Is not your name
William?” “No, sir.” “What is it?” said the bishop. “Billy,” was the
answer. “Billy!” said the bishop, with great emphasis; “that is a little
boy’s name.” “I know it,” said Mr. Hibbard; “I was a very little boy when
my father gave it me.” Then the conference was convulsed with laughter.
When his character was examined it was objected that he was practicing
medicine. Bishop M’Kendree inquired, “Brother Hibbard, are you a
physician?” “I am not,” he replied; “I simply give advice in critical
cases.” “What do you mean by that?” asked the bishop. “In critical
cases,” said Mr. Hibbard, “I always advise them to send for a physician.”
There were one hundred and twenty preachers belonging to this conference.
It began in peace and fellowship, which seemed to increase toward the
close, and then a gracious shower of blessings descended on the preachers.
The trustees of the Methodist Church in New York were ever kind to
Bishops Asbury and M’Kendree, and they took good care of their horses.
As a part of the history of the times, and as a curiosity, and to show
the generosity of the trustees, I transcribe an old bill that has been
carefully preserved in good order fifty-five years:
1809. BISHOP ASBURY,
TO PETER ALEXANDER ALLAIRE, Dr.
20th May. To keeping 3 horses from 8th of May, on hay, at 4s £7 4 0
To 9 quarts oats per horse, per day for each horse,
say 27 quarts per day, 324 quarts, at 4d 5 8 0
To keeping 1 horse from 8th of May, on hay, at 4s 2 8 0
To 78 quarts of oats, at 4d 1 6 0
To bleeding bishop’s horse, phisick, fetching, etc. 0 16 0
--------
£17 2 0
--------
$42 75
Received payment from MR. ABRAHAM RUSSEL,
PETER ALEX’R ALLAIRE.
Abraham Russel was a noble man; he was indeed a pillar in the Methodist
temple. The three horses, one was Bishop Asbury’s, the other Bishop
M’Kendree’s, the other mine. The bill was made out to Bishop Asbury.
At another time Bishop M’Kendree paid for his horse-keeping. When the
trustees heard of it they sent him an apology and refunded the money.
On Saturday we went to Tuckahoe, and were kindly entertained at one of
the bishop’s choicest homes, Bishop Sherwood’s. Pages might be written
concerning this most excellent family. Nowhere did the bishop find warmer
hearts or meet with a kinder reception than in the Sherwood cottage. On
Sabbath the bishop preached in the morning at Sherwood’s Chapel. This old
chapel still remains in all its glory, and has been a little improved.
The site was given by the Sherwoods; the ground was staked out by Bishop
Asbury, and the plan of the church given by him. It is in a valley at
the foot of a hill, and surrounded by beautiful locust trees. There is a
burying-ground connected with it, where the early Methodists sleep.
In the afternoon we went to New Rochelle, and were the guests of Peter
Bonnets, one of the oldest Methodists in that place. He was a descendant
of the Huguenots, formerly an Episcopalian, and one of the first trustees
of the Methodist Church in that place, which was organized in 1791.
Crossing the Byram River, which is the dividing line between New York
and Connecticut, I found myself in the land of steady habits. We reached
Norwalk, a place famous in the history of our country. It was burned in
1779 by Governor Tryon. It has an important position in the history of
Methodism, for here in 1789 Jesse Lee first planted the tree of Methodism
in New England, and now one hundred thousand Methodists in the New
England states sit under its shade and partake of its fruit with delight.
Here resided Absalom Day. He was a potter. He lived at what was called
the “Old Well.” In this (Fairfield) county the first class was formed in
New England, and the first Methodist house of worship built, and called
“Lee’s Chapel,” in honor of Jesse Lee.
The bishop preached that evening at Brother Day’s, from Rom. xvi, 24, the
apostolic benediction, “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you
all. Amen.” The Methodists had no house of worship then in Norwalk. Many
strong Methodist ministers were born in this county: Nathan Bangs, D.D.,
Heman Bangs, William Thacher, and many others.
We passed on through Fairfield and Bridgeport to Stratford, where we
stayed at Thaddeus Peck’s, one of the bishop’s old homes, then through
Milford, one of the oldest towns in the state, to New Haven, the City
of Elms, no doubt the most beautiful city in America; and here is Yale
College, one of the oldest in the land. We were entertained here at
Pember Jocelin’s.
We journeyed on through beautiful towns to Saybrook, on the Connecticut.
This received its name from Lords Say and Brook, who procured a large
patent of land, of which this was a part. Here the famous “confession of
faith” was drawn up in 1708 known as the “Saybrook Platform.” There was
much all along this route that was enchanting: riding most of the time
in view of Long Island Sound, then crossing the rivers and beholding the
harbors, then through neat and beautiful villages. It was the last of
May, and the peach and other trees were in blossom. Everything looked
beautiful: flowers blooming, birds singing, nature having put on her
loveliest robes, and the air perfumed as if with sweet incense.
The bishop rode in a carriage and I on horseback. The weather or
something else had such an effect upon the bishop’s horse that day that
twice he started to run away, and it was as much as he could do to hold
him, so he took Henry’s horse and rode on his back, and Henry rode in the
chaise, and had no difficulty in managing the bishop’s horse.
In the evening we reached New London, and put up with Mr. Douglass.
The bishop preached at night to two hundred hearers from 1 John ii,
5; I preached next morning, at the early hour of five, to one hundred
hearers, from Matt. v, 6; then we crossed the Thames in a flat-bottomed
sail-boat. The wind being fair we were soon over. Journeying on, we
entered Rhode Island, and crossed the beautiful Narraganset Bay to
Newport. Here we were the guests of Samuel Merwin, the stationed
minister. He was a noble man, then young and in his glory. He was all
courtesy and attention; a Christian gentleman. The bishop preached at
Newport on Sabbath morning and afternoon, and I in the evening.
On Monday we visited Fort Wolcott. Here the bishop preached to the
soldiers from Isaiah lv, 6, 7. Then we went to the school and the
hospital, talking and praying with the soldiers who were sick. I
addressed a number of German soldiers by themselves, then I gave them the
Methodist German tracts, a pamphlet on “The Character of a Methodist,”
and the tract on “Awake Thou that Sleepest,” etc. Among them was a young
man named Shellenbuerger, a native of Switzerland, who had been taken
from his friends at eleven years of age by Napoleon Bonaparte, and then
by the British; afterward he came to America, where he enlisted. He was
very serious, and thankfully received the tracts.
Captain Beal had charge of the fort. He was a fine man, a Christian
gentleman, a Methodist. The bishop greatly admired the order and
discipline at the fort; indeed, he was an admirer of discipline
everywhere, in the family and in the Church.
On we rode through various towns and villages, preaching Jesus, till
Saturday, when we reached Boston, and were there entertained by Widow
Lewis. We had but two chapels then in Boston, the “Old” and the “New.”
The bishop preached in both, and so did I. Elijah R. Sabin and Philip
Munger were the stationed preachers in Boston, both good men and true.
The next day we went to Waltham, and were entertained by Abram Bemis.
He possessed much of the spirit of Abram of old, who was given to
hospitality, and who entertained strangers and sometimes angels. George
Pickering married into this family. There were four generations living in
that house: the great-grandfather, Abram Bemis, was in his ninety-second
year; and the oldest grandson, Asbury Pickering, was about twelve. This
was one of the leading families of Methodism in New England. The bishop
preached here from 2 Peter iii, 14.
The next day found us at Lynn, the cradle of Methodism in Massachusetts.
The first Methodist chapel was built here; the first New England
Conference was held here; and Enoch Mudge, the first native preacher in
New England, was born here. We put up with Benjamin Johnson. The bishop
preached on Thursday from Hab. ii, 3; and I the next morning at five
o’clock from Psalm xxxiv, 8, “O taste and see,” etc. I have had the honor
of preaching in the oldest house of worship in Massachusetts, as well as
the oldest on the Peninsula, and the oldest in America.
We passed through many important places: Marblehead, Salem, Newburyport,
etc., to Portsmouth, New Hampshire. This was my first introduction to the
old Granite State. We put up at Friend Hutchins’s, and stayed over the
Sabbath, the bishop preaching twice and I once.
On Monday we started for Monmouth, in the Province of Maine. (Maine was
then attached to Massachusetts, and was not admitted into the Union till
1820.) We fell in with John Broadhead, George Pickering, and Elijah
Metcalf, who were on their way to conference. They were most excellent
company. We went as far as Saco Falls, and as Methodist homes were scarce
we went on our own hook and put up at Moody’s tavern. The day we reached
Monmouth we stopped at a tavern, and the following scene is described by
the Rev. Ebenezer F. Newell: “After we had rested half an hour Bishop
Asbury said, ‘We must have prayers before we leave; I will go and give
notice to the landlord, and some of you must pray.’ I followed him to
the bar-room to learn his way of proceeding in such a case. He said,
‘Landlord, we are going to have prayers in our room, and if you or any
of your family wish to attend we should be happy to have you.’ ‘Thank
you, sir,’ he replied; ‘please wait until I speak not only to my family,
but my neighbors.’ Soon they flocked in; we sung and prayed, and melting
mercy moved our hearts. When our bill was called for we were told there
was no demand against us, and were requested to call again.”[23] The
course of the bishop surprised Brother Newell, but to me it was almost
an every-day occurrence in traveling. It was Asbury’s invariable custom.
Even the night before, where we put up at the tavern, the bishop proposed
having prayers; they objected, but he insisted upon it, so we had prayers
both evening and morning.
On Thursday, June 16, 1809, the New England Conference commenced its
session. Both Asbury and M’Kendree were present. This was Bishop
M’Kendree’s first visit to New England as superintendent, and everywhere
he was regarded with peculiar interest. We put up with a Brother Derbin.
There was peace and good order throughout the session from beginning to
end. There was a camp-meeting held in connection with the conference. I
preached on the camp-ground to about eight hundred on Friday, from Matt.
xi, 28, 29.
Doctor Stevens in his Memorials says: “M’Kendree was present, but we have
no notice of the part he took in the proceedings.” Perhaps I alone am
left to supply the deficiency. First, he presided, with dignity, a part
of the time. Secondly, he preached two never-to-be-forgotten sermons: the
first on Saturday at noon, from Rom. vi, 22, “But now being made free
from sin, ye become servants to God, and have your fruit unto holiness,
and the end everlasting life.” The dignity, freedom, fruit, and end of a
Christian were dwelt upon, after which Bishop Asbury ordained twenty-two
deacons. At three o’clock John Broadhead preached from John iii, 1,
“Behold what manner of love,” etc. Adopting love was his glorious theme,
which he handled in a workmanlike manner.
Sunday was a high day in Monmouth; we had five sermons. At six in the
morning Bishop M’Kendree preached from Rev. ii, 10, on fidelity unto
death, and its reward. At ten Bishop Asbury preached in the grove to
three thousand people, from Isaiah xliv, 23, “Sing, O ye heavens; for
the Lord hath done it,” etc. He regarded it as an “open season.” My
impression is that Bishop M’Kendree ordained the elders after this
discourse. This was their custom: one ordained the deacons, the other the
elders. Then George Pickering preached from Luke xix, 5, on the talents
given, and man’s responsibility.
At half past two Martin Ruter preached from Job xix, 25, 26, “For I know
that my Redeemer liveth,” etc. Job’s knowledge of a living Redeemer and
the resurrection of the body at the last day was his theme. These sermons
were preached on the camp-ground to crowds. There was great attention and
solemnity, and much good was done. Several professed to be converted. At
five o’clock I preached in the meeting-house from Prov. xviii, 10. Thus
ended this memorable Sabbath.
There were noble men at this conference: two future bishops, Joshua
Soule and Elijah Hedding; also John Broadhead, Thomas Branch, Elijah
Sabin, and many others. Eighteen were received on trial, among whom were
George Gary, then a boy of fifteen, but he was a boy with a man’s head;
John Lindsay, whose praise is in the Church; and Edward Hyde of blessed
memory. Joshua Taylor was at this conference, though I think he then held
a local relation.
Here Bishops Asbury and M’Kendree separated for a season, taking
different routes, expecting to meet at the Western Conference, if not
before. Thence we went to Danville in Vermont. This was my introduction
to the Green Mountain State. On Friday we accompanied Solomon Sias to
the house of his mother, an excellent woman. I wrote, “We are weary, but
not forsaken.” We spent the Sabbath and preached in that neighborhood.
In the evening I preached at Widow Sias’s, and John W. Hardy and Solomon
Sias exhorted. On Tuesday the bishop preached in the meeting-house in
Danville, while seated in a pew. No wonder the bishop admired the scenery
during our late route, and wrote: “We have passed many a fertile hill,
and saw many fruitful vales, through which flowed noble rivers.”
On Thursday we were at Montpelier, the capital of the state. The bishop
admired the fine state-house, and said “it was worthy of the seat of
government of Vermont;” and the splendid hotel, which he said “was an
appropriate appendage to the state-house.”
On Friday the bishop preached at Mr. Fuller’s on Lake Champlain. Here he
ordained Joseph Sampson an elder, and sent him as a missionary to his
countrymen in Quebec. Sampson was a Canadian Frenchman, and talked broken
English. In speaking of the Lamb of God he could not think of the word,
so he said “God’s mouton,” the French word for sheep. He did not succeed
in Canada, and afterward was a member of the Philadelphia Conference,
and on my district. He was not a Samson physically or mentally or
theologically. Becoming unsound in doctrine, and denying the divinity of
Christ, he was expelled. He appealed to the General Conference, and the
decision of the Philadelphia Conference was confirmed.
On Saturday we had the company of William Anson, presiding elder of
Ashgrove District, who went with us through Vergennes to Bridport. I
found Brother Anson a most genial man. He told me the Congregationalists
were the “standing order” of ministers in Vermont, and all were taxed
to support them. The Methodists having to support their own ministry
thought it was not fair, so they petitioned the Legislature to have the
law repealed. Their petitions were treated with contempt, and the inquiry
was sneeringly made, “Who are the Methodists?” affecting to be ignorant
of the existence of such a people. The Methodists in the state concluded
that if this was the kind of treatment they were to receive it was time
to show who they were; so they and their friends had an understanding,
and at the election the next year there was, to the astonishment of many,
a general turning over. The new governor and Legislature found out who
the Methodists were, and the obnoxious law was repealed.
We tarried on Sunday night with Luther Chamberlin, who, I believe, was
a relative of Pamerly Chamberlin, late of the New York Conference. Here
we rested near the ruins of Fort Ticonderoga, which was taken in 1775 by
Colonel Ethan Allen of Vermont “in the name of the great Jehovah and the
Continental Congress.” This was the first fortress captured in the war of
the Revolution.
On Tuesday we traveled along Burgoyne’s Road to Fort Edward. This was
called Burgoyne’s Road because he made it through the wilderness for
the use of his army. Here the bishop preached in the store of Dr.
Lawrence to a large and attentive congregation. He preached the next day
at M’Cready’s barn from Rom. viii, 1. Here were the ruins of an old
fort built in 1755. Near here Jane M’Crea met with her tragical end,
being cruelly butchered by the Indians. Here Burgoyne’s army waited six
weeks for provisions, and thus lost the best part of the season, which
seemed to be the beginning of his blunders. We have now at Fort Edward a
splendid literary institute.
The next day we rode by Saratoga Lake to Ballston. Here the bishop
preached in the bar-room of the tavern kept by General Clark, and he
says “had life and liberty.” It was not every minister that could adapt
himself to every place in preaching like the bishop.
On Saturday we visited the springs at Ballston, very celebrated then for
the medicinal qualities of the waters.
The same day we rode forty miles to Kingsbury. Here at a quarterly
meeting we met Bishop M’Kendree with several preachers. On Sunday Bishop
Asbury preached in a grove to a thousand people from Matt. xvii, 5. I
preached immediately after from 1 John i, 9. The bishop says in his
journal, “Brother Boehm closed a meeting of three hours’ continuance.”
The next morning we started with the two bishops for Cayuga Lake. For
several days we traveled together. Bishop Asbury preached, Bishop
M’Kendree exhorted, and I closed with prayer. We passed Utica and reached
Cazenovia, where Bishop M’Kendree parted with us to go to Pittsburgh by
Lake Erie, and we took another route, expecting to meet at the Western
Conference. We went to Manlius Square and to Auburn. The bishop wrote,
“No food or rest to-day.”
We had quite a variety the next day: rain and mud and mud and rain. We
rode six miles to Asa Cummins’s cabin, a humble place twelve feet square,
but a warm reception within. The next day found us on one of the head
branches of the Susquehanna, which was greatly swollen with heavy rains,
so it was considered reckless to attempt to cross. No wonder the bishop
wrote, “We had an awful time on Thursday in the woods among rocks and
trees, living and dead, prostrate, barring our way. When we thought the
bitterness of death was passed, behold the back-water had covered the
causeway.” This was about two miles below Owego. We worked our passage
round the Narrows with the utmost difficulty. However, we got safely
through, to the astonishment of the people, particularly concerning our
carriage. A gentleman by the name of Hathaway was very kind, and rendered
us much assistance.
On Friday we rode to Tioga Point, Pennsylvania, to Dr. Hopkins’s. The
Susquehanna was so high we could not cross, so the bishop preached in the
academy from “Seek ye the Lord,” etc. Here he made this wonderful record,
and who can read it without deep emotion? “Such roads, such rains, and
such lodgings! Why should I stay in this land? I have no possessions
or babes to bind me to the soil. What are called the comforts of life
I rarely enjoy. The wish to live an hour such a life as this would be
strange to so suffering, so toil-worn a wretch; but God is with me, and
souls are my reward. I might fill pages with this week’s wonder.” Dr.
Stevens, in his “Memorials,” says, “It is a pity he didn’t.” Is it not
wonderful that he recorded as much as he did under the circumstances? I
hope my journal will supply in some measure the deficiency. I was not
merely a spectator of the wonderful scenes he hints at, but an actor. In
the daily sacrifices and toils and sufferings I shared. To the bishop’s
every-day martyr-like sufferings I was a witness, and it brings tears
to my eyes now when I think of them. Our appointments were generally
sent forward, and here, in consequence of heavy rains, swollen rivers,
and muddy roads, we were eighty miles behind our Sabbath appointments.
On Saturday, as the waters had abated, we crossed the Susquehanna, and
rode to the mouth of Wyoming Creek, and put up at Stevens’s tavern. On
Sunday we attempted to reach the place where George Lane was preaching,
but we missed it. We met with an accident. The bishop says, “Brother
Boehm upset the sulky and broke the shaft.” The only wonder is we did
not upset twenty times where we did once. It was well I was in the sulky
instead of the old bishop, or he might have fared hard. He might have
had something worse than a “broken shaft:” a broken limb or a broken
neck. This happened on Sunday; but we were traveling from necessity, not
from choice. On Monday we went through the Narrows on the east side, not
without considerable danger; then we crossed to the west side, dined
at our friend Sutton’s, and came to Widow Dennison’s at Kingston. This
is the place where Methodism was first introduced into Wyoming. My old
colleague, Anning Owen, had the distinguished honor of being the pioneer.
This valley is far famed for its beauty. Campbell has immortalized it in
song, and it is embalmed in history. At Kingston we have now a splendid
seminary. The next morning we crossed to Wilkesbarre, a very fine place,
the seat of justice for Luzerne County. We have now a Wyoming Conference.
It did not look much like it then. This region is now the garden of
Methodism.[24]
CHAPTER XXIII.
SECOND ANNUAL TOUR—WESTERN AND SOUTHERN CONFERENCE.
The relation of my first annual tour with Asbury has convinced the reader
that the office of a bishop was then no sinecure, and that his traveling
companion had something more to do than play the gentleman. It indeed was
toil, intense toil, as much so as soul and body could bear. During the
tour I visited all the conferences, and preached the Gospel in fifteen
states, and became acquainted with the great men of Methodism in the
ministry and laity, East, West, North, and South.
Never was a mariner, after a perilous voyage, more rejoiced to get into
harbor than we were to reach the old family mansion of my father. We
arrived there on Friday, July 28, 1809, but both my parents were from
home, therefore Mr. Asbury concluded he would go right on, and I got a
friend to go with him a distance, while I went to see my parents. I could
not bear the thought of being gone ten months without having an interview
with them before I left. They were infirm and I might never see them
again. I went to a camp-meeting near Morgantown, where I met my parents,
and they embraced me with joy. I had been in seven different states
besides the Province of Maine since I saw them.
Mr. Asbury wrote: “On Friday a thirty mile ride brought us to Martin
Boehm’s. Delightful rest! but it may not be so.” The next morning found
him on his way to Lancaster. At the camp-meeting I heard my father preach
from Luke on the Gospel Supper. He preached in German; I immediately
after in English.
Sabbath was a great day. James Smith preached in the morning on the
peculiar doctrines of Methodism, in opposition to antinomianism; I at
noon from Isaiah xxxii, 17; then Thomas Burch. The next day I went home
with my parents, remained a few hours, and then bade them farewell till
the next spring.
My next business was to overtake Mr. Asbury, who had gone on, waiting
for no one. I did not overtake him till the third of August at James
Hunter’s, Fort Littleton. I found him in a sad plight. He was not able to
stand, preach, kneel, or pray. He had needed both a traveling companion
and a nurse. Suffering from rheumatism, he had applied several blisters
to relieve him. He had put them on too strong, and the remedy was worse
than the disease. Camp-meetings he still zealously engaged in, and said,
“We must attend to them; they make our harvest times.”
In crossing the Alleghanies we were in great danger, and came near
being dashed in pieces, but were providentially preserved. Mr. Asbury
wrote: “The hand of God was manifested to-day in saving man and horse
from wreck; the danger appeared exceeding great.” At Berlin the German
Presbyterian minister caused the church-bell to be rung, and Mr. Asbury
says: “Brother Boehm preached to them in high Dutch.”
On Tuesday the 8th we rode thirty miles in a heavy mountain rain, and
were dripping wet. We put up with a German. Mr. Asbury says: “We called
a meeting, and our exercises were in German. We gave away religious
tracts, German and English. We have disposed of many thousands of these;
it is our duty to do good in every possible way.” We were pioneers in
circulating tracts. The German tracts were those I had published in
Lancaster. I preached in the German language every day, and often in
German and English at the same time. On Saturday we reached Pike Run
camp-meeting. Here to our great joy we met Bishop M’Kendree.
On Sunday morning I preached at eight o’clock on the profitableness of
godliness. Bishop Asbury preached at eleven, from 2 Cor. v, 20, on the
dignity and employment of the embassadors of Christ. The grove rang with
his deep-toned voice. Bishop M’Kendree preached at two o’clock from Deut.
xxx, 19, “I call heaven and earth to record,” etc. I wrote: “The work of
God is progressing mightily among sinners, mourners, backsliders, and
believers.” The work went on until after midnight. It then began to
rain, and continued until next day about noon, when I preached on Matt.
xi, 28, 29, to the weary and heavy laden, for there were many such on
the ground. At three o’clock Bishop M’Kendree preached again from 1 Cor.
xiii, 13, on faith, hope, and charity. Such a time of power has seldom
been witnessed. I wrote: “The cries of mourners, prayers, shouting,
rejoicing, etc., were the uninterrupted exercises until after midnight.
Some that were the companions of drunkards and persecutors in the first
part of the meeting now swelled the number of mourners. Glory Halleluiah!
The Lord’s supper was administered on Tuesday, after which Bishop Asbury
delivered a profitable lecture.” He wrote: “It appears the bishops will
hold a camp-meeting in every district. We are encouraged so to do. Great
power was manifested here, and much good was done. I will not say how I
felt or how near heaven.” Bishop M’Kendree preached four times at this
meeting.
On Wednesday the 6th to Brightwell’s, Philip Smith’s, and then en route
for Pittsburgh. On Thursday the cross-bar of that old sulky broke and
brought us up all standing. I do not wonder Jacob Gruber could not bear a
sulky. He thought they were _sulky_ enough.
On Friday evening we reached Pittsburgh, and stopped at Brother John
Wrenshall’s. I preached at Thomas Cooper’s on Friday and Saturday
evenings. On Sunday Bishop Asbury preached at Brother Cooper’s at eight
o’clock from Titus ii, 11-14. At twelve I preached in German in the same
house from Rom. x, 12. Some felt the force and spirituality of the word.
I closed by giving the substance of the discourse in English. My heart
was much enlarged.
Bishop Asbury being invited to preach in the elegant Presbyterian church,
did so at three o’clock from 2 Cor. v, 11, “Knowing therefore the terror
of the Lord we persuade men,” etc. Five hundred listened to his solemn
persuasions. At six I preached in Brother Wrenshall’s yard to about three
hundred attentive hearers from Heb. ii, 1.
On we journeyed to Zanesville, where I preached in the Court-house, as
we had no house of worship there then. In New Lancaster I preached in
German, and Robert Cloud exhorted after me. This is the man who was so
useful in the East, and who was once under a cloud; but he was doing
better, and the sun was once more shining upon him. He had a son, Caleb
W. Cloud, a very good preacher, a member of the Western Conference.
We went to Chillicothe, and were made welcome at Dr. Edward Tiffin’s;
then to Deer Creek, at White Brown’s. Here I saw Stephen Simmons, who
used to travel our circuit in Lancaster County. He had located and
married the daughter of White Brown. On Wednesday we reached Peter
Pelham’s. I preached in German almost every day through this part of Ohio.
On Saturday, September 23, we reached one of Bishop Asbury’s best homes,
that of one of his dearest friends, Philip Gatch. While the bishop
rested there I took a tour among the Germans. Some of them had not heard
preaching in their own tongue since they left their native land. Tears
flowed from many eyes, and they heard with delight the word of life. What
has God wrought since among the Germans![25]
On the 28th we reached Cincinnati, the seat of the Western Conference.
FIRST CONFERENCE IN CINCINNATI.
On Saturday, September 30, 1809, the Western Conference commenced its
session in Cincinnati. This was the first conference held in what has
since become the Queen City of the West. We were kindly entertained by
Oliver Spencer, Esq. When a boy he was taken captive by the Indians, and
his early history is full of wild romance and sober truth.
There were some splendid men at this conference, who were destined, under
God, to lay the foundations of Methodism in what is now the mighty West.
I heard some excellent preaching here. The evening before conference
began I heard Miles Harper on “Set thine house in order,” etc. He was
one of their strong men. I preached on Saturday from John i, 11, 12,
and Brother Lakin exhorted. The Lord was eminently nigh. Several souls
professed to find the Lord in the pardon of their sins.
The Lord’s day was a high day in Zion. We had four sermons. The first
from Learner Blackman on Judges iii, 20, “I have a message from God unto
thee.” It was a message of light and truth and power. At noon Bishop
M’Kendree preached on a favorite subject, Prov. i, 23, “Turn you at my
reproof,” etc. At three William Burke on 1 John i, 9, “If we confess our
sins,” etc. A mighty preacher was William Burke in his palmy days. He
wielded a tremendous power in the pulpit, and in the conference he was
then the master-spirit. In the evening Caleb W. Cloud preached from the
same text I had taken the evening before. This was a day of feasting for
my soul and many others.
On Monday James Quinn preached at noon from Heb. xxiv, 26 on Moses’s
choice and Moses’s reward. A wonderful man was James Quinn when he
got the baptism of power. I wrote, “The Lord is with us both in the
conference and the congregation.” On Tuesday at noon Bishop Asbury
preached an ordination sermon from Titus ii, 7, 8, “In all things showing
thyself a pattern of good works.” It was a most impressive discourse,
and was owned of God. At noon on Wednesday Bishop M’Kendree preached on
faith, hope, and charity. Our souls were richly fed with celestial manna.
At night Daniel Hitt, the book agent, preached on “Pray for us, that
the word of God may have free course,” etc. On Thursday I preached at
noon from Matt. v, 20; on Friday William Burke preached from Isaiah xl,
1, “Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God;” a sermon full of
consolation. James Quinn preached at night.
On Saturday Samuel Parker preached at noon from 1 John i, 3, “That
which we have seen and heard declare we unto you,” etc. This was an
eloquent discourse, delivered in the sweetest spirit, making a powerful
impression. He presented some fine thoughts on our union with the Father
and the Son, and that all the divine attributes are engaged for our good;
also the blessed effects of fellowship with the people of God.
On Sunday, the 8th, Bishop Asbury preached in the morning at nine,
Learner Blackman in the afternoon at three, and Samuel Parker in the
evening. The sermons were all good, but Samuel Parker’s excelled. His
text was Phil. iii, 10, “That I may know him and the power of his
resurrection and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable
unto his death.” Over fifty years have passed away since I heard him, and
yet the image of the eloquent Parker is before me, and I remember with
what overwhelming pathos he dwelt on the “fellowship of his sufferings.”
The word ran through the audience like electricity, tears flowed, and
shouts were heard. It was a most appropriate sermon for the last before
the conference adjourned. It prepared the ministers for the work of
suffering with their Lord if they would reign with him.
Bishop Asbury then delivered to the Methodists in Cincinnati a farewell
address, which was not only able and ingenious, but truly affecting.
We had spent two Sabbaths there, and on the morrow were to take our
departure. I heard fifteen sermons at this conference from the master
minds of the West, men who were giving tone and character to Methodism
through all that vast region. The bishop does not name a text or theme
that any of the ministers used at that conference; mine may be the
only record there is. To the Methodists in Cincinnati, where so many
conferences have since been held, it may be of interest to know the
ministers who preached at the first conference there, and the texts they
used on the occasion.
Seventeen were admitted on trial at this conference, among whom were
Moses Crume and William Winans. The latter became a giant in the south
and south-west. Eight elders were ordained, among others Samuel Parker,
John Collins, Miles Harper, and Peter Cartwright. These were mighty men.
Peter Cartwright is the only one living.
Three of the prominent ministers in this conference were from New
Jersey: Parker, Blackman, and Collins. John Collins did wonders for
Methodism in the West. His life, abounding with thrilling incidents, has
been written by the late Judge M’Lean, to which I refer the reader.
SAMUEL PARKER has been called the Cicero of the West. He was born in
1774, and early learned the business of a cabinet-maker. At the age
of fourteen he gave his heart to the Saviour. In 1805 he joined the
itinerancy, and after being in the work fifteen years, fell at his post.
He volunteered to go to Mississippi, and died there of consumption in
December, 1819, and was buried near Washington in that State. His name
at the West will ever be fragrant. William Winans was deeply indebted to
him, loving him as a father, for Mr. Parker was his counselor and friend,
and gave him his first license to preach. There was nothing prepossessing
in his appearance; his face was very thin, and his countenance dull, till
he became animated with the truths he preached. His voice was uncommonly
melodious; it was soft, rich, sweet. He was a very superior singer; but
it was as a pulpit orator he excelled, and will long be remembered.
EPISCOPAL TOUR FROM CINCINNATI TO SOUTH CAROLINA CONFERENCE.
With regret we bade farewell to our kind friends in Cincinnati and
started for the South Carolina Conference, several of the preachers with
us. We entered Kentucky on Tuesday, and at midnight the bishop called us
up, and we traveled twenty-five miles to Mount Gerizim, where he had an
appointment. Bishop M’Kendree here preached a sweet sermon from “Is it
well with thee?” He used to inquire of his dying sister, Frances Moore,
whom I knew very well, “Is it well with thee?” and when he was himself
on his deathbed he exclaimed, “All is well.” Bishop Asbury preached from
“Suffer the word of exhortation,” and then ordained a person.
On Thursday we reached Martin’s meeting-house, called so from Major
Martin, with whom we stayed; sometimes it was called “Ebenezer.” Bishop
Asbury preached from Psalm lxxxv, 1-9. The reader will recollect what I
have said about the bishop liking a long text.
There had been considerable excitement among the local preachers in this
part of the country on the subject of ordination. The bishops had a
number of them convened here by previous appointment, and they held what
Bishop Asbury called a “Conciliatory Conference.”
The next day, at the same place, Bishop M’Kendree preached a
characteristic sermon from “He that endureth to the end;” then I held
forth, then Daniel Hitt, then Bishop Asbury. He says, “I embraced
various subjects in my exhortation.” It was a very able address on
the qualifications and duties of ministers. We rode a number of miles
the next morning before breakfast, and there Bishop M’Kendree left us
for Cumberland, accompanied by Thomas Lasley, who was his traveling
companion.[26] We forded the Kentucky and came to John Bennett’s, a very
fine man and family, having a meeting-house called after him. On Sabbath
the bishop preached at Bennett’s meeting-house on John iii, 19, 20.
We left Kentucky and entered Tennessee, crossing rivers and climbing
mountains. Can we wonder the bishop wrote: “My mind and body have had
no small exercise in bringing my stiff-jointed horse over the rocks and
rough and deep roads.”
Crossing the French Broad, we reached Barnett’s Tavern. The old landlord
was very sick and like to die. The bishop, who was a physician when
necessary, always carrying medicine with him, gave Mr. Barnett a dose
that almost instantly relieved him, and he fell asleep. He was so
thankful he would receive nothing for our entertainment. The bishop
writes: “Eight times within nine years have I crossed these Alps.” Well
might he call those high mountains the Alps. Never can I forget the toils
over those mountains, rocks, hills, stumps, trees, streams, awful roads,
and dangerous passes.
We crossed to Buncombe, North Carolina, preaching every day. In South
Carolina we attended a number of quarterly meetings with that excellent
man of God, long since gone to his rest, Lewis Myers.
There were glorious revivals through the South this year, and the
bishop’s soul greatly rejoiced. He wrote: “Great news, great times in
Georgia; rich and poor coming to Christ.” Again: “The Methodists have
great success on Camden District; surely there must be some good done;
all are on fire, and I feel the flame! God is with preachers and people.”
On Tuesday, November 21, we stayed with William Gassoway, a noble old
preacher, universally esteemed. He joined as early as 1788. He was
William Capers’s first colleague. We had a very severe snow-storm. It was
cold and chilly, and we reached Waxsaw and put up with Robert Hancock.
Almost every prominent Methodist man had a meeting-house named after
him: so we had a “Hancock Chapel.” On Saturday I preached in this chapel
on John xiii, 35, and Brother William Capers followed with a charming
exhortation. The bishop preached the next day in the chapel. “The next
day on the south side of the Catawba river, piloted by Brother William
Capers, who is a promising young man about twenty.” So I wrote over
fifty years ago. We had a delightful interview with Capers at Robert
Hancock’s, as well as the privilege of traveling with him many days.
William Capers, in his Autobiography, (pp. 113-115,) has described what
took place at Robert Hancock’s, and made such honorable mention of Bishop
Asbury and his traveling companion that I transcribe it for my work now
the writer is in his grave:
“At the close of the year 1809 Bishop Asbury passed through my circuit
on his way to conference, and it was arranged for me to meet him at
Waxsaw, (General Jackson’s birthplace,) and attend him along a somewhat
circuitous route to Camden. I met him at the house of that most estimable
man and worthy local preacher, Robert Hancock, who had been more than
a friend to me, even a father, from the beginning. The bishop was then
accompanied by the Rev. Henry Boehm as his traveling companion, so long
afterward known in the Philadelphia Conference as one of the purest and
best of Methodist ministers, and whose society I found to be as ‘the
dew of Hermon.’ This was the last of my itinerant year on the Wateree
Circuit; and as I have had quite enough of the disagreeable in my account
of it, I will end the chapter (perhaps more to your liking) with an
anecdote of my first night and last night on the trip with the bishop.
I met him when a heavy snow had just fallen, and the north-west wind
blowing hard made it extremely cold. The snow had not been expected, and
our host was out of wood, so that we had to use what had been picked up
from under the snow, and was damp and incombustible. Our bed-room was
aloft, with a fireplace in it, and plenty of wood; but how to make the
wood burn was the question. I had been at work blowing and blowing long
before bed-time, till, to my mortification, the aged bishop came up, and
there was still no fire to warm him. ‘O Billy, sugar,’ said he as he
approached the fireplace, ‘never mind it; give it up; we will get warm
in bed.’ And then stepping to his bed as if to ascertain the certainty
of it, and lifting the bed-clothes, he continued, ‘yes, yes, give it up,
sugar; blankets are plenty.’ So I gave it up, thinking the play of my
pretty strong lungs might disturb his devotions, for he was instantly on
his knees.
“Well, thought I, this is too bad. But how for the morning? Bishop Asbury
rises at four—two hours before day—and what shall I do for a fire then?
No light wood, and nothing dry. But it occurred to me that the coals
put in the midst of the simmering wood might dry it sufficiently to
keep fire and prepare it for kindling in the morning; so I gave it up.
But then how might I be sure of waking early enough to kindle a fire at
four o’clock? My usual hour had been six. And to meet this difficulty
I concluded to wrap myself in my overcoat, and lie on the bed without
using the bed-clothes. In this predicament I was not likely to over sleep
myself on so cold a night; but there might be danger of my not knowing
what hour it was when I happened to awake. Nap after nap was dreamed away
as I lay shivering in the cold, till I thought it must be four o’clock;
and then creeping softly to the chimney, and applying the breath of my
live bellows, I held my watch to the reluctant coals to see the hour. I
had just made it out, when the same soft accents saluted me: ‘Go to bed,
sugar, it is hardly three o’clock yet.’
“This may do for the first night, and the last was as follows: It had
rained heavily through the night, and we slept near enough to the
shingles for the benefit of the composing power of its pattering upon
them. It was past four o’clock and the bishop was awake, but ‘Billy
sugar’ lay fast asleep; so he whispered to Brother Boehm not to disturb
me, and the fire was made. They were dressed, had had their devotions,
and were at their books before I was awake. This seemed shockingly out
of order, and my confusion was complete as, waking and springing out
of bed, I saw them sitting before a blazing fire. I could scarcely say
good-morning, and the bishop, as if he might have been offended at my
neglect, affected not to hear it. Boehm, who knew him better, smiled
pleasantly as I whispered in his ear, ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ The
bishop seemed to hear this, and closing his book and turning to me with a
look of downright mischief, had an anecdote for me. ‘I was traveling,’
said he, ‘quite lately, and came to a circuit where we had one of our
good boys. O, he was so good! and the weather was as cold as it was the
other night at Brother Hancock’s, and as I was Bishop Asbury, he got up
in the bitter cold at three o’clock to make a fire for me; and what do
you think? He slept last night till six.’ And he tickled at it as if he
might have been a boy himself. And this was that Bishop Asbury whom I
have heard called austere, a man confessedly who never shed tears, and
who seldom laughed, but whose sympathies were, nevertheless, as soft as a
sanctified spirit might possess.”
We next went to Camden and stayed with James Jenkins. Bishop Asbury
baptized his daughter, Elizabeth Asbury Jenkins, perpetuating not only
the bishop’s name, but his mother’s also. On Sunday at eleven Bishop
Asbury preached at Camden from Rev. xxii, 14, on the blessedness of
doing his commandment. I preached at three on Acts v, 2, after which the
bishop addressed himself to the people of color. He was a great friend of
the colored race, whom he called his “black sheep.” I held forth in the
evening from 1 Peter iv, 7. It was a day of marrow and fat things.
On Tuesday we went to Father Rembert’s on Black River. On Wednesday the
bishop preached to the negroes of Henry Young, who were called together
to hear him. We then had free access both to the master and the slave.
On Sunday there was a quarterly meeting at Rembert’s for the Santee
Circuit. I preached on Saturday, and John and James Capers exhorted. On
Sunday the bishop preached from Matt. xiv, 35, then Joseph Tarpley and
Lewis Hobbs exhorted. The meeting lasted five hours. At night I held
forth on Heb. ii, 1.
On Monday we started for Charleston. The roads were muddy in the extreme,
the rivers high, and we had swamps to go through; but Wednesday evening
brought us to the goodly city.
On Tuesday of next week Bishop M’Kendree arrived with his traveling
companion, Thomas Lasley. We had preaching nearly every night.
The South Carolina Conference commenced on Saturday, December 23. It was
a very pleasant session. Preaching three times a day on Sunday, and in
all the churches in the evening, and in the Bethel Church every morning
at eleven. On Monday, being Christmas, I preached in Cumberland Church to
a large audience on Luke ii, 15. Thomas Lasley exhorted. It was a time of
refreshing from the presence of the Lord.
There were several conversions during the conference. The closing scene
was peculiarly affecting. On Friday, just before adjournment, the Lord’s
supper was administered. It was a most melting time. No wonder I wrote,
“O my soul, never forget this melting, soul-animating time of the power
of God.” The excellent William Capers, with fifteen others, was received
on trial; Joseph Travis, with a number of others, was ordained deacon;
Lovick Pierce and his brother Reddick, and James Russell, with three
more, were ordained elders.
CHAPTER XXIV.
TOUR TO VIRGINIA, BALTIMORE, AND PHILADELPHIA CONFERENCES.
Again we turn our faces toward the North. The first night we were the
guests of a brother of Bishop M’Kendree, who was overjoyed to see us, and
treated us in a friendly manner.
We went to Newbern, N. C., and on Sunday had four sermons: Thomas
Lasley preached at sunrise from Gen. xlix, 10, “The scepter shall not
depart,” etc.; Bishop Asbury at eleven from Heb. xii, 1, 2. The race,
the witnesses, the judge, and the prize, were the topics he dwelt upon.
At three Bishop M’Kendree from Jer. iv, 14, “O Jerusalem,” etc. Brother
Merritt at night from 1 Tim. ii, 22, “Flee youthful lusts,” etc.
On Friday Bishop M’Kendree left us to go direct to Norfolk, and Bishop
Asbury and I went out of our direct route to Edenton. We borrowed two
horses, that our tired animals might rest, and arrived at Edenton
after dark. Well might Mr. Asbury inquire, “Are we riding for life?”
It was exceedingly cold, and I suffered severely. We stayed at William
Hankins’s. In the evening I walked to the church and preached, and in
returning took a cold that had like to have cost me my life.
On Sabbath there was a tremendous snow-storm. So after all our pains
the bishop preached to only six men and twelve women. In the evening I
preached to the Africans. We never forgot these sable children.
During this route I suffered more than the martyrs. For a fortnight I
had high fevers every night; and then riding all day in the cold, my
sufferings were intolerable. I became so weak that I had to be helped on
to my horse, and then, though I could hardly sit upon him, rode thirty
and forty miles a day, with cold winds beating upon me.
Bishop Asbury describes our route: “My flesh complains of cold riding
and the labor of preaching. May I be made perfect through sufferings!
Saturday brought us through rain and snow, without eating or prayer, to
William Birdsong’s. On Monday, February 5, we wrought our solitary way
through the woods to Allen’s bridge. The Widow Pennington received us.
Her husband is dead, she is sick, her children irreligious. O misery! O
mercy!... We have passed like a mail through South and North Carolina. I
solemnly sympathize with my dear Brother Boehm. He has suffered greatly
in his journey; an awful cough and fevers. Lord, what is life?” From this
I think the bishop doubted my recovery. My sufferings can never be told.
The day we rode to Petersburgh we stopped to rest in the woods, and I lay
down upon a log, for I was too weak to sit up. The time came to start,
and I told the bishops (Bishop M’Kendree had now rejoined us) to go on
and leave me there. I felt as if I would rather die on that log than
go on. They were all attention and full of sympathy. Bishop M’Kendree
prepared me a little medicine, and I drank it, and then ate a little.
They lifted me from the log on to my horse, and in this plight I rode to
Petersburgh. When we arrived there, about sundown, I was so weak they
had to lift me from my horse and carry me into the house. The ride was
most tedious and painful. At Petersburgh we found a kind home at Sister
Harden’s.
The Virginia Conference commenced its session in Petersburgh on Thursday,
February 8, 1810; but I was so sick that it was six days before I could
go to the conference room. On Friday Bishop M’Kendree, seeing how
ill I was, took me into his room, and was my nurse and physician. He
administered medicine to me, and watched over me with all the kindness of
a father. If I had been his only son he could not have treated me more
tenderly. When he was under the necessity of being absent, his traveling
companion, Thomas Lasley, continued with me, and was very attentive and
kind. The family we put up with were all kindness and affection. What a
debt of gratitude I owe them! “I was a stranger, and they took me in.”
Under God I owe the preservation of my life to Bishop M’Kendree. Blessed
man! I had often waited on him, for he was frequently an invalid. On
his first episcopal tour he was afflicted with asthma, and needed much
attention, and it afforded me great pleasure when I could do anything to
relieve him. Sometimes he could not lie down, and suffered exceedingly.
And yet I have often thought his continental tours were a great benefit
to him, and prolonged his life. The open air and the exercise on
horseback did him good.
On Wednesday, the 14th, I was able to go to the conference room. Then I
heard Bishop Asbury preach an ordination sermon from “Lo, I am with you
alway,” etc. It was full of instruction and encouragement to Christian
ministers. Immediately after the sermon Bishop M’Kendree ordained
the elders. In the afternoon I heard a profitable sermon from Edward
Dromgoole.
The next day at noon the conference adjourned, and immediately Bishop
Asbury and I started for Richmond. I left Petersburgh with a heart
overwhelmed with gratitude. I wrote, “The Lord made use of Bishop
M’Kendree in saving my life. May the Lord abundantly bless him; also this
kind family.”
Forward we went to Richmond, then to Fredericksburgh, through heavy
rain and deep mud, not the best weather for an invalid. Here the bishop
preached. Onward through Dumfries, one of the oldest places in Virginia.
Mud, mud, mud! deeper, and still deeper, till we were in danger of being
stuck.
At Alexandria the bishop preached from, “If any man speak,” etc. We went
thence to Georgetown to Henry Foxall’s. Speaking of Washington city, the
bishop exclaimed, “O what a world of bustle and show we have here!” If he
thought so in 1810, what would he think if he could revisit Washington
city in 1865?
Jesse Lee was then chaplain to the House of Representatives. I went with
him to the capitol. He first prayed in the House of Representatives,
and then we went to the Senate, and there he offered prayer. He and
the chaplain to the Senate took turns, praying alternate weeks in both
houses. Lee was much respected as chaplain. His prayers at that time were
short, fervent, and patriotic.
In coming north with Bishop Asbury in 1810, at the south of Washington we
met John Randolph, that peculiar genius and unequaled orator of Roanoke.
He was riding, and had his dogs with him in the carriage. He always
thought much of his dogs, and took them with him to Washington. His
complexion was very dark, and his eyes were black.
On Saturday, February 24, we reached Baltimore, and put up with Sister
Dickins. Then I went to see my father, and he went with me to the
Baltimore Conference. He loved to attend the conference, and wished
another interview with his life-time friends, Bishops Asbury and
Otterbein.
On Lord’s day I heard my aged father preach in Otterbein’s Church from 1
Cor. iv, 20, “For the kingdom of God is not in word,” etc. Of course it
was in German. At three o’clock my colleague, Jacob Gruber, preached in
Otterbein’s Church, from John v, 25, on the spiritual resurrection. It
was a lovely sight to behold the venerable Otterbein, my aged father, and
Newcomber, all together worshiping in such delightful harmony.
On Wednesday evening I preached at Otterbein’s Church, on Matt. xi,
28, 29, in my mother tongue. My father concluded with an impressive
exhortation and prayer. This was my father’s last visit to Baltimore,
his last interview with Otterbein, and the last time he ever attended an
annual conference.
Twelve were received on trial at this conference; among them John Davis,
long an ornament to the Baltimore Conference and a pillar in the temple
of Methodism; and John W. Bond, the last traveling companion of Bishop
Asbury. Among the elders ordained were Gerard Morgan, (father of N. J.
B. and L. F. Morgan,) Job Guest, and Alfred Griffith, who has recently
retired from the work. The bishop wrote thus: “If we want plenty of good
eating and new suits of clothes, let us come to Baltimore; but we want
souls.”[27] This will give an idea of our entertainment in Baltimore.
The conference adjourned on Saturday, March 17, and Bishops Asbury and
M’Kendree, and my father and Thomas Lasley, immediately left for Perry
Hall, where Sister Gough treated us with the usual kindness.
On Monday we rode to Henry Watters’s at Deer Creek. He was seventy-two
years old when we were there. He was a brother of William Watters, and in
this house William was born and converted. One of the earliest Methodist
churches in Maryland was erected on the farm of Henry Watters. It was
in this chapel the famous conference was held in 1777,[28] when the
English preachers, with the exception of Mr. Asbury, gave up the field,
and returned to their native country. The old homestead is still in
possession of the family of Henry Watters, Esq., the oldest son. He is a
class-leader in the Church. What imperishable memories cluster around the
sweet rural mansion where Pilmoor and Boardman, Coke and Asbury, so often
lodged and prayed![29]
This was Bishop Asbury’s last visit to Deer Creek and to the Watters
family. He was here the year after he arrived in America, namely, 1772,
and often afterward, and had witnessed thrilling scenes. He wrote
mournfully, in his journal, “I parted at Deer Creek (ah, when to meet
again!) with aged Father Boehm and my ancient friend, Henry Watters.” It
was his last interview with his friend Watters. My father and the bishop
met but once more.
I accompanied the bishop through the Peninsula before the session of the
Philadelphia Conference. On Thursday, at Elkton, I heard Bishop M’Kendree
and George Pickering preach. The latter was raising money for a church
in Boston, so he came to the Peninsula, the garden of Methodism, for
sympathy and funds. He found both, as the sequel will show. This was
Bishop M’Kendree’s first tour through the Peninsula. We went to Bohemia
Manor, where there was preaching, and we were entertained by Richard
Bassett.
We continued traveling and preaching every day. On Saturday at Friendship
meeting-house. Sunday, at Smyrna, Bishop Asbury preached from 2 Chron.
xxxii, 25, 26, “But Hezekiah rendered not again according to the benefit
done unto him,” etc. George Pickering spoke afterward, and then a noble
collection was taken for the Boston Chapel. Here Bishop Asbury wandered
among the tombs, and his heart was affected as he looked at the graves of
those he loved, and with whom he had worshiped years before.
On Monday we were at Dover, and the bishop preached in the chapel.
Mournfully he wrote: “Most of my old friends in this quarter have fallen
asleep.” We went to Barratt’s Chapel, where George Pickering preached
on “By whom shall Jacob arise,” etc.; then Bishop Asbury, on Heb. x,
38. We stayed with Andrew Barratt, Esq., son of Philip Barratt. Onward
we went till we reached the Sound Chapel, and after the bishop preached
we stopped with my old friend, Arthur Williams. We had ridden fourteen
hundred and sixty-six miles on horseback since we left Charleston.
We went to Snow Hill. The bishop wrote: “Lodged at Samuel Porter’s, the
steward of the circuit; he is a solemn man in his appearance, as an
official character ought to be.” On Tuesday bishop M’Kendree preached at
eleven at Captain Downing’s, and Bishop Asbury at night.
On Wednesday, April 11, at Curtiss’s Chapel, and then went to Francis
Waters, Esq., at Potato Neck. He was a sterling man and a sterling
Methodist. He was the father of Francis Waters, D.D., and of the wife of
Freeborn Garrettson, Esq., of Rhinebeck, N. Y. The bishop here wrote:
“I rode to Francis Waters’s at Potato Neck. They kept me busy: I must
preach; I am senior; I have been long absent; some never expected to hear
me again; possibly I may never come again. I am reminded that such and
such I dandled in my lap. The rich, too, thirty years ago, would not let
me approach them; now I visit and preach to them. And the Africans, dear
affectionate souls, bond and free, I must preach to them.”
Next day we preached at Potato Neck, and lodged with Lazarus Maddox. He
was one of the best men I ever met with. On Monday Bishop Asbury preached
at Ennalls’s Chapel, and we dined with my early friend, the widow of
Harry Ennalls. I have given but a part of this memorable tour through
the Peninsula. Everywhere the bishops were hailed as holy apostles,
everywhere they preached with power.
On Thursday, April 18, the Philadelphia Conference commenced its session
in Easton, Maryland. Here the early Methodist ministers were persecuted.
Joseph Hartly was imprisoned, but he felt the “word of God was not
bound,” and through the grates of his jail he “preached deliverance to
the captives,” and many were converted, and the persecutors liberated the
prisoner for fear he would convert the whole county.
There was a camp-meeting connected with the conference. There was much
feeling under a sermon preached by Bishop Asbury from 1 Peter ii, 21-23,
on the example of Jesus. A number were converted on the camp-ground.
John Emory, afterward bishop, and Laurence Laurenson, were received
on trial with others. This was one of the most harmonious conferences
I have ever attended. Bishop Asbury was delighted, as will appear by
the following: “What a grand and glorious time we have had! how kind
and affectionate the people!” On Friday the conference adjourned. My
appointment was read off thus: “Henry Boehm travels with Bishop Asbury.”
On Saturday we went to Henry Down’s at Tuckahoe. Bishop Asbury and he
were bosom friends. We rode fifty miles this day to Dover, and Bishop
M’Kendree preached in the evening. We stayed at Richard Bassett’s. Bishop
M’Kendree preached at Dover on Sunday, the 22d, at eleven, and Asbury
immediately after. Then I went to Smyrna, and Bishop M’Kendree preached
there. Have such laborious bishops been seen since the days of the
apostles?
We went to Chester, where Bishop Asbury preached the funeral sermon
of Mary Withey. Chester is the most ancient town and county seat in
Pennsylvania. Very early William Penn was here, and Whitefield preached
in this place to thousands. Here lived Mary Withey. She was a woman of
superior talents, and kept one of the best public houses in America. As
early as 1798 I was her guest with Dr. Chandler, and was often at her
house in after years. Her husband during the Revolutionary War was for
King George; she was for America, a decided Whig. Washington was often
her guest, and she took great pains to entertain him well, Mr. Asbury
early became acquainted with her, and in 1800 was at her house with
Bishop Whatcoat, and he wrote thus: “On Saturday we dined with Mary
Withey, now raised above her doubts, and rejoicing in God. Through her
instrumentality a small society is raised up in Chester, and she hath fed
the Lord’s prophets twenty-eight or more years.” What a splendid eulogy
upon Mary! Now we have there a membership of over three hundred, a very
pleasant station. What would the old landlady say if she could revisit
Chester and contrast the present with the past?
Mr. Asbury went eighteen miles out of his way to preach the funeral
sermon of Mary Withey. This he did in the Chester Church May 5, 1810.
He makes the following interesting record: “She was awakened to a
deep inquiry respecting the salvation of her soul while I officiated
at her house in family prayer. This was in 1772, on my first journey
to Maryland. She had lived twelve years a wife, forty-four years a
widow, and for the last thirty years kept one of the best houses of
entertainment on the continent. In her household management she had
Martha’s anxieties, to which she added the spirit and humility of
Mary. Her religious experience has been checkered by doubts and happy
confidence. She slept in Jesus.”
NORTHERN TOUR TO PITTSFIELD, NEW YORK CONFERENCE.
We made a visit to Burlington, N. J., to James Sterling’s. A whole
volume might be written concerning this estimable man and his family.
It is difficult now to appreciate the position they once occupied. James
Sterling was a prince in our Israel.
Having the company of George Pickering we went to New Brunswick, where
Bishop Asbury preached in the court-house to three hundred people. We
had no house of worship, and there was but one family that entertained
Methodist preachers. It was a family by the name of Poole, who made us
very welcome. It was years after before we got much of a foothold in
this beautiful place. The Rev. Charles Pitman was the first stationed
preacher, and he was favored with a glorious revival. He was then in his
prime, and he helped to give character and stability to Methodism in New
Brunswick. Now we have three flourishing Churches there.
The next day we went to New York and stayed with John Mills, Esq.
Bishop Asbury preached in old John-street. He made this record in his
journal: “We are in New York. Great times here. Two new houses within
the year.[30] I preached in old John-street. This is the thirty-ninth
year I have officiated within the walls. This house must come down, and
something larger and better occupy its place.”
It did not come down, however, till the venerable bishop was in his
grave. It was not till May 13, 1817, the old walls were demolished after
an appropriate address by Rev. Daniel Ostrander. Then it was not done
without powerful opposition; but the energetic William Thacher succeeded
in raising the necessary funds for the new edifice. Now the third church
edifice occupies the site.
On Saturday we left New York and went to Sherwood Vale, the next
morning to White Plains, and the bishop preached from Heb. vi, 9, 10.
Methodism was early introduced into White Plains, which is the county
town of Westchester. Indeed this has been one of its strongholds.
Here a memorable battle was fought during the Revolution, and here is
“Washington’s headquarters;” and in the very room Washington occupied the
first Methodist sermon in the town was preached, and the first Methodist
class formed.[31]
On Monday we left for Pittsfield, Mass. We reached Amenia, and put up
with Father Ingraham. Amenia has been a stronghold for Methodism many
years, and we have here an excellent seminary. Two annual conferences
have been held here. The Ingrahams, the Hunts, and others have been
strong pillars of Methodism in this place.
We passed on to Lenox, Mass., which is indeed a gem among the mountains,
and then to Pittsfield. We put up during the conference at John Ward’s.
We have ridden from Charleston more than two thousand miles. This would
be but little by railroad or steamboat, but much to perform on horseback,
as any one would find out by trying it.
Here lived the excellent Robert Green, who was a Methodist preacher
of the old stamp and brother of Lemuel. Methodism was introduced into
Pittsfield in 1790. The first Methodist sermon was preached by Freeborn
Garrettson. The Rev. Robert Green formed the first society in this place.
He was the main pillar of the society and ornament to the Church, and an
honor to Methodism.
Both Bishop Asbury and M’Kendree were at the conference. On Saturday
evening I heard Francis Ward preach. He was an excellent brother, a fine
penman, and for several years secretary of the New York Conference. On
Sabbath morning Bishop Asbury preached from Phil. iii, 17-21; Bishop
M’Kendree in the afternoon.
Bishop M’Kendree presided at the conference most of the time. The
brethren were not as familiar with his method as Bishop Asbury’s, and at
first it did not go very smoothly. He was more systematic; but they soon
got used to his ways, and most highly esteemed him.
The conference lamented the loss of one of its brightest ornaments, the
Rev. John Wilson. He was a very pure spirit. He was book agent, and I
used to do business with him and also correspond with him, as I attended
to the interest of the Book Room. He was a Christian gentleman, an able
preacher, a superior scholar, a good penman and accountant, and an able
businessman. He died suddenly of asthma in New York city, January 28,
1810. His brethren say such were his excellences that even envy itself
must be turned into praise, and malice and hatred into veneration.
Half a century has made a great change in the members of the New York
Conference. Of the eighty-four who were present in 1810 but two remain,
Laban Clark and Marvin Richardson. Fourteen were received on trial, among
others Arnold Scolefield and Tobias Spicer.
The conference adjourned on Saturday, but the bishops and several of the
ministers remained over Sabbath. We were the guests of the venerable
Robert Green.
On Sabbath Daniel Hitt preached from “We have not received the spirit of
bondage,” etc.; and Bishop M’Kendree, in the Congregational Church, in
the afternoon, from John viii, 31, 32, on Christian Freedom.
CHAPTER XXV.
NEW ENGLAND AND GENESEE CONFERENCES OF 1810.
On Monday we left Pittsfield (the most beautiful inland town in the
United States) for Winchester, New Hampshire, the seat of the New England
Conference. We went over the perpetual hills and descended beautiful
valleys, crossing the Connecticut River, and on Thursday reached
Winchester, and were the welcome guests of Caleb Alexander. There was
but one Methodist family in the village. He was a large-hearted man, and
had petitioned to have the conference hold its session there, pledging
himself they should be well entertained. His own house and his neighbors’
were filled, and he paid the board of others. He was a noble-hearted man,
and the preachers were delighted with him and their entertainment.
Bishops Asbury and M’Kendree were both present, and presided alternately
at the conference. There was a general fast held by several of the
conferences on Friday, and we religiously observed it till six o’clock in
the evening. Bishop Asbury regularly observed his fasts whether ordered
by conferences or not. It was his practice to abstain every Friday.
On Sunday, June 3, the bishop preached in the morning and I in the
evening. He says: “I think my words pierced the hearts of some like a
sword. I neither spared myself nor my hearers.”
On Wednesday, June 6, the New England Conference for 1810 commenced in
the Congregational meeting-house.
There was a camp-meeting held in connection with it, about three miles
distant, and they had preaching there three times a day during its
session.
On Sunday the 10th Bishop Asbury preached with life and energy; after
which six deacons and twelve elders were ordained. There were about
fifteen hundred persons present. Six sermons were preached that day.
On Monday morning, after the bishops had delivered their valedictory
addresses, which were distinguished for appropriateness and pathos,
Bishop Asbury read off the appointments of eighty-seven preachers, who
all went cheerfully to their work in the spirit of their Master.
We left Winchester and went to Waltham, and on the 16th Bishop Asbury,
George Pickering, and myself went to Boston, and were the guests of the
Rev. Elijah Sabin, the stationed preacher. The new chapel was greatly in
debt, and Brother Pickering had been south soliciting funds; and yet,
such were the pressing wants of the Church, that while we were in Boston
Bishop Asbury wrote five letters supplicating a collection for the new
chapel, namely, to Baltimore, Georgetown, Alexandria, Norfolk, and
Charleston, and I believe they all responded.
We visited Newport, and in the afternoon I went with Brother Daniel Webb
(now the oldest effective preacher in the world) to Fort Wolcott. On
Sunday the 24th we had preaching three times. The bishop preached to the
soldiers at the fort.
On Monday we crossed the Narraganset Bay, and then went to Stonington,
Conn. I do not wonder at its name, for the ground is literally covered
with stones. We crossed the Thames. We found a home at friend Douglass’s,
and the bishop preached in the evening.
Here for the first time Bishop Asbury saw a copy of Jesse Lee’s History
of Methodism. It made the bishop nervous, as will be seen by the record
he made at the time in his journal: “It is better than I expected. He
has not always presented me under the most honorable aspect. We are
all liable to mistakes, and I am unmoved by his. I correct him in one
fact. My compelled seclusion in the beginning of the war in the State of
Delaware was in no wise a season of inactivity. On the contrary, except
about two months of retirement from the direst necessity, it was the
most active, the most useful, the most afflictive part of my life. If
I spent a few dumb Sabbaths, if I did not for a short time steal after
dark, or through the gloom of the woods, as was my wont, from house to
house to enforce that truth I, an only child, had left father and mother
to proclaim, I shall not be blamed, I hope, when it is known my patron,
good and respectable Thomas White, who promised me security and secresy,
was himself taken into custody by the light horse patrol. If such things
happened to him what might I expect, a fugitive and an Englishman? In
these many years we added eighteen hundred members to society, and laid
a broad and deep foundation for the wonderful success Methodism has
met with in that quarter. The children and the children’s children of
those who witnessed my labor and my sufferings in that day of peril and
affliction now rise up by hundreds to bless me. Where are the witnesses
themselves? Alas! there remain not five perhaps whom I could summon to
attest the truth of this statement.”
I do not think Mr. Lee meant to censure the bishop,[32] but others have,
and I am thankful we have the bishop’s explanations and his admirable
defense.
One who has recently written says, “It was a question painfully revolved
in the mind of Mr. Asbury whether or not he ought to have thus concealed
himself from his enemies. It is certain that in this he was not imitating
the Saviour, who went forth to meet Judas and his band in the garden;
neither was he following the example of the apostles, who went forward in
their work, although forbidden by the Jewish Council; nor did he exhibit
the courage of Wesley in the days of mob violence in England, nor yet
that of Abbott, Garrettson, and Hartley, who dared to meet their worst
foes. It seems that his prudence prevailed over his faith.”[33]
Does my friend Lednum mean to accuse Francis Asbury of cowardice? If he
does, the bishop’s explanation is a defense against all attacks until the
end of time.
We left New London on Wednesday, June 27, and went to Hebron, riding six
hours in the rain. The bishop seldom stopped for rain, even if it came in
torrents. He preached in the evening.
The next day we rode to East Glastenbury, and put up with Jeremiah
Stocking. He was one of the oldest and most distinguished local preachers
in New England. His ministry extended over a period of sixty years. He
was the first to open his doors in that part of the country to receive
the Methodist preachers; he was the father of the Methodist society in
the town. He died in holy joy March 23, 1853, aged eighty-five, his wife
and eight children following on in the path made smooth by his feet and
wet by his tears. Brother Stocking wrote many interesting articles while
Dr. Bond was editor, entitled “Sketches of my Life,” and dated “Pilgrim’s
Tent, on the Banks of Jordan.”
Saturday we rode through Hartford to Middletown amid a heavy
thunder-storm. At Hartford we were like Noah’s dove: had no place for
the sole of our foot, and it was the day of small things at Middletown.
We rode one hundred and eighty-six miles this week. We spent the Sabbath
in Middletown, and were entertained at Brother Eggleston’s. The bishop
preached in the morning from 1 Cor. xv, 5-8; I preached at three o’clock
from Acts iii, 19; the bishop again at six from “Behold, now is the
accepted time,” etc. There was a small congregation both morning and
afternoon; but who hath despised the day of small things? Could the
bishop have foreseen the growth of the Church in Hartford and Middletown,
and especially that noble institution, the Wesleyan University, which has
been such a blessing to our Church, how would his great soul have thanked
God and taken courage! Its first president, the seraphic Fisk, who sleeps
in the beautiful cemetery on the hill, was then a youth of eighteen, and
was not licensed to preach till eight years after; and Stephen Olin, of
blessed memory, was then a lad in his father’s house in Vermont, and
it was not till twelve years after our visit to Middletown he became a
Methodist minister.
The bishop had been at Middletown several times before. He was there as
early as June, 1791. He preached in the meeting-house belonging to the
Standing Order, and then after preaching rode a mile out of town to get
lodging. Bishop Whatcoat was with him there in the month of May, 1803,
and preached at five o’clock on Sunday in “the Separate Meeting-house.”
When he had finished his sermon the old women controverted his doctrine
of sanctification.
On Monday we went to Burlington. The bishop preached, and he shaved very
close. On through Goshen, next to Sharon, where we were the guests of
Alpheus Jewett, a wealthy farmer. He was a large man, with much native
dignity. He was the father of the late Rev. William Jewett.
Bishop Asbury preached at Brother Jewett’s from Heb. iv, 11-16. Our
meeting-house was a mile from the village, among a huge pile of rocks.
Our fathers were not Solomons in regard to the sites of their churches.
Now we have a neat brick church in the village.
Thursday, July 5, brought us to Amenia, and to Thomas Ingraham’s,
just where we were May 17; and think what a round we had taken in the
intervening six weeks. One would have thought that the bishop might
have rested a little from his incessant toil after he had attended the
conference in Winchester; but no, he never thought of resting till he
rested in Abraham’s bosom, or of locating till in the neighborhood of the
throne of God.
The next day he preached at John Row’s meeting-house in Milan. The old
man still lives, and has consecrated his money to God by building a
church and parsonage.[34] Here we met Freeborn Garrettson and Daniel
Hitt, and went with them to Rhinebeck.
On Monday, July 16, Bishop Asbury, Daniel Hitt, William Jewett, and I
started for the Genesee Conference. William Jewett was then a youth
of uncommon beauty and promise. We crossed the Hudson, passed through
Kingston, (formerly Esopus, originally settled by the Huguenots,) then to
Durham, over the mountains, to New Sharon, to a camp-meeting under the
charge of Henry Stead.
On Thursday we fired three guns in quick succession. Bishop Asbury
preached first; then Daniel Hitt, without any intermission; and as soon
as he sat down I preached in German. There was a good number of Germans
present (many of them Lutherans) who were permitted to sit near the
stand and hear in their own tongue the wonderful works of God. They were
delighted. They had supposed the difference in the effect of Methodist
preaching from that of their own ministers was in the language. They
thought the English expressed the Gospel better. But when the power of
God came upon the people, and tears flowed down many cheeks under German
preaching, they were convinced the difference was not in the language,
but in the manner of communication; the one formal, the other spiritual.
Quite a revival followed, and a number of preachers were raised up. This
meeting was held near Cherry Valley.
We spent the Sabbath at Cazenovia. Bishop Asbury, Brother Hitt, and
I, preached, and William Jewett exhorted. The services were held in
Silas Blass’s barn. It would have been a glorious vision of the future
could Bishop Asbury have foreseen the future prosperity of Methodism in
Cazenovia and the noble seminary of learning erected there.
On Monday we reached Daniel Dorsey’s, at Lyons, about sunset. We had
rode two hundred and sixty-one miles from Rhinebeck. Daniel Dorsey, a
Methodist of the old stamp, was originally from Maryland, and a Methodist
there. He had a large farm and a large heart. His house was a home where
the weary itinerant delighted to rest. He was steward of the circuit and
a local preacher.
FORMATION OF GENESEE CONFERENCE.
As Bishop Asbury was severely censured for organizing this conference,
and as it produced much agitation at the time, so that several annual
conferences and the General Conference of 1812 took action upon it, I
will give a brief sketch of it, showing that what Bishop Asbury did was
worthy of all praise, and that, like Mr. Wesley, he was far-seeing, and
could plan for the future.
Previous to its formation, the preachers on the Susquehanna District, in
Western New York, (eighteen in number,) belonged to the Philadelphia
Conference, and it was a long distance to go to conference on horseback,
which was then their usual mode of traveling; so also the preachers in
Canada and Cayuga District, who belonged to New York Conference. Mr.
Asbury believed there was a more excellent way for both preachers and
people. Much time was lost, and the work on circuits suffered by the long
absence of the preachers. Bishop Asbury, with almost a prophet’s eye,
foresaw the growth and prosperity of Western New York; that it would be
the garden of the Empire State, and the garden of Methodism.
In 1809, while the bishop and I were passing through the Genesee country,
as we were riding along he said to me, “Henry, things do not go right
here. There must be a Genesee Conference;” and then he went on to assign
his reasons. The bishop then planned the conference and its boundaries in
his own mind, and proceeded afterward to carry his purpose into effect.
The new conference was composed of four districts, namely, Susquehanna,
Cayuga, and Upper and Lower Canada, and it was to hold its first session
in Lyons, Ontario County, July 20, 1810.
This act of the bishop gave great dissatisfaction to many of the
preachers, not of the Genesee, but of other conferences. James Smith and
Jesse Lee were greatly displeased. The former said “it gave evidence of
the increasing infirmities of age in Bishop Asbury; that he was in his
dotage,” etc.; others considered it an unauthorized assumption of power;
and some said “it was cruel, setting off these preachers to starve.” I
justified him, and said “I thought it one of the best official acts of
the bishop, and that in a few years Genesee Conference would be one of
the richest in the Union.” How far I was right may be easily seen. It
certainly was the best thing that could have been done for the Methodists
in Western New York. The plan originated with Bishop Asbury, who was
better acquainted with the state of things in that part of the country
than his colleague; but Bishop M’Kendree concurred in it, and therefore
received his share of the censure. But very nobly some of the conferences
vindicated the bishops, for most of them took action upon it. That the
bishops were perfectly justifiable is evident from the fact that in 1796
a proviso had been inserted in the Discipline in these words: “Provided
that the bishops shall have authority to appoint other yearly conferences
in the interval of the General Conference, if a sufficiency of new
circuits be anywhere formed for that purpose.” This was re-enacted at
each succeeding conference, with a slight change, until 1832; therefore
the bishop’s act was constitutional, and there was no reason to complain
of “assumed powers,” etc.
At the Virginia Conference of 1810 this important question was asked:
“Whether the bishops had a right to form the eighth, or Genesee
Conference?” The bishop had no difficulty in answering this question
in the affirmative. It will be seen, however, that the “right” was
questioned.
Bishop Asbury, after the first session of the Genesee Conference, makes
the following record: “If the cry of ‘want of order’ came from God, the
appointment of the Genesee Conference was one of the most judicious acts
of the episcopacy. We stationed sixty-three preachers, and cured some
till then incurable cases.”
The New York Conference took action on the subject and nobly vindicated
the bishops. I cannot withhold their preamble and resolutions, which do
them so much honor, especially as they never have been published:
“Whereas, doubts have been entertained in the minds of some of our
brethren respecting the constitutionality and necessity of the Genesee
Conference. Our opinion being requested on the subject, after mature
deliberation, we are of opinion that the constituting of that conference
is perfectly conformable to the spirit and letter of our form of
discipline, and calculated to facilitate the work of God, and spread
the Redeemer’s kingdom, in the convincing, conviction, conversion, and
establishing immortal souls in the precious truths of the blessed Gospel;
and also we are of opinion that our venerable superintendents have acted
judiciously therein, and entirely under the authority our discipline has
vested in them, and therefore recommend the adoption of the following
resolutions:
“_Resolved_, 1, That we consider the appointment of the Genesee
Conference to be perfectly consistent with the spirit and letter of
our form of discipline; and that the superintendents have assumed no
illegitimate power, or forfeited any of the confidence reposed in them.”
Carried.
“_Resolved_, 2, That, considering the extent of the Philadelphia and New
York Conferences, and the great increase of circuits since the bounds
thereof were defined by the General Conference in 1800, which is about
or fully double the number, we consider the appointment of the Genesee
Conference proper and necessary for the good of the connection.” Carried.
“_Resolved_, 3, That we therefore recommend or advise the continuation of
that conference, and that we do pledge our mutual support to our bishops
and superintendents therein.” Carried.
At the General Conference of 1812 an address of several preachers of
the Genesee Conference on the subject was presented by Bishop M’Kendree
on the 6th of May. A committee of eight was appointed, one from each
conference. Ezekiel Cooper was chairman. The next day, May the 7th, the
chairman presented the following resolution: “Moved, that this General
Conference do consider that the Genesee Annual Conference is a legally
constituted and organized conference.” It was carried unanimously.
The organization of the Genesee Conference was an era in the history of
Methodism in Western New York. The first conference began on Friday.
Both Bishops Asbury and M’Kendree were present. There was a camp-meeting
held in connection with the conference. We had no meeting-house in Lyons
then, and the conference was held in Captain Dorsey’s granary. There were
sixty-three preachers present, among them some noble men: Anning Owen,
my old colleague, Benjamin Bidlack, and Gideon Draper. William Case,
Ebenezer White, Seth Mattison, and others were indeed pillars in our
Church.
A more harmonious conference I never attended. Everything augured well
for the future prosperity of our Zion.
On Sunday Bishops Asbury and M’Kendree preached on the camp-ground. The
word was quick and powerful.
On Wednesday about two o’clock the conference adjourned, and the
preachers, after shaking hands and exchanging plans, separated for their
various fields of labor, to preach, to suffer, or to die. Most of them
are now resting in Abraham’s bosom.
After dinner Bishop Asbury and I started on our journey. It was not his
custom to tarry after conference adjourned. He moved right on, and often
his horse was at the door and he was ready to commence his journey as
soon as the benediction was pronounced. He thus avoided importunity, and
no one could have his appointment changed if he desired to, for no one
knew where to find the bishop.
We commenced our southern and Western tour. Such a doleful, fearful
ride few bishops ever had, and it was one calculated to make the
traveler rejoice when at the end of his journey. Asbury at that time, in
consequence of infirmities, rode in a sulky and I on horseback. Sometimes
I would ride before him and then in the rear. We would occasionally
change when he was tired, or the roads very rough.
The first part of our journey was very pleasant. We had the company of
Anning Owen, the apostle of Methodism in Wyoming, who was not only good
company but a good guide. He went with us to Tioga Point, and then we
parted with him reluctantly. Brother Owen went to Wyoming, and we took
the route for Northumberland. We soon got lost in the wilderness, and
needed a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night to guide us. Then a
fine gentleman, by the name of Coles, piloted us five miles, and helped
us out of our difficulty.
We had been accustomed to muddy roads, rocks, hills, mountains, gulfs,
rapids, dangerous streams, but this route excelled them all for
difficulty and danger. We traveled several hours in the rain and gained
nine miles. We came to Elder’s Inn, where, though not a very desirable
place, we were glad to put up. It poured all night. The next morning we
proceeded through the solitary woods, that had been the abode of Indians,
and where the wild beast still found a home, through deep mud, over
huge rocks and lofty hills, down deep gulleys, to where two branches of
the Elk waters formed a junction. The current being so rapid we thought
it not safe to venture over; but we soon perceived that the water was
falling, and in about an hour and a half we passed over in safety.
Of this journey Bishop Asbury makes the following mournful record: “We
must needs come the Northumberland road; it is an awful wilderness.
Alas! Read and prayed in the woods. I leave the rest to God. In the last
three days and a half we have ridden one hundred and forty miles. What
mountains, hills, rocks, roots! Brother Boehm was thrown from the sulky,
but providentially not a bone broken.” This record needs no comment. It
makes me weep when I look back and remember how patiently he suffered.
I was suddenly thrown from the sulky and might have been killed, but as
the bishop said I was providentially preserved, or I might have found a
grave in the wilderness and left the poor infirm old man to have pursued
his journey alone. The road was so rough that Father Asbury could not
ride in the sulky; it jolted and hurt him, so he and I exchanged, and he
rode my horse and I in his vehicle. If he had been thrown out as I was
he probably would have been killed. No bone of mine was broken, and yet
the flesh was torn from my left leg so that I was a cripple for months. I
suffered more than if it had been broken. Riding on horseback with that
poor leg, no language can describe my suffering.
We will resume our narrative, for we are not yet out of the woods. When
we reached the other side of the stream we fell in with a man by the name
of John Brown. As it was dangerous for us to proceed, Mr. Brown kindly
invited us to his cabin. No endangered mariner was ever more glad to get
into harbor than we were to find a shelter, for houses in that wilderness
were very “few and far between.”
But the reader must not suppose Mr. Brown’s cabin was close at hand,
and that all we had to do was to enter it. We had to cross the creek
twice, and that with great difficulty and danger, and then tug our way
up an exceedingly high mountain in the heart of the wilderness before we
reached his cottage. When we arrived there we found he had no wife, nor
children, nor housekeeper. He did his own cooking and washing. John Brown
was a hermit. He was an Englishman who, for some reason, had chosen this
secluded spot where he lived, four miles from any other dwelling. His
cabin was pleasant, and he most cheerfully divided his coarse fare with
us.
We felt much at home, and the after part of this day we were employed in
reading, meditation, and prayer. We spent the Sabbath very differently
from what we had generally done. It was what Mr. Asbury used to call a
“dumb Sabbath.” What added to the gloom, it rained all the day and night.
By the fall out of the carriage the day before I was more injured than I
thought for at first; my left leg was bruised and torn and much inflamed,
and I was very lame.
But onward we must move. So on Monday, July 30, we began to descend the
mountain, and our kind friend John Brown accompanied us to the shore of
the creek, which we found considerably higher than the day before, being
swollen by the rain. As it was dangerous to attempt to cross, we took the
back track, our host inviting us to return to his cabin and stay till it
was safe to proceed on our journey. He did everything he could to make
us comfortable and happy. I have put up in palaces, but never felt more
comfortable and grateful than in the humble cabin of John Brown.
As the storm had abated the next morning we bade a final adieu to our
pleasant home in the wilderness, and began to descend the mountain; but
our kind friend and benefactor would not permit us to go alone. He went
with us five miles, in which distance we crossed the waters of the Elk
seven times. John Brown’s hospitality was worthy of patriarchal times. To
us it was a heaven-send, for if we had been obliged to remain at a tavern
during that time we stayed with him we should have been bankrupt, for
Bishop Asbury and myself had only two dollars. I know, for I carried the
purse.
With grateful hearts we bade adieu to the hermit, and proceeded on our
perilous journey. After dining at Hill’s Inn we crossed the stream,
which was full of drift logs. The wheels were taken from our carriage,
and they and the body placed in a canoe, in which we also got, and were
rowed over by two men, while our horses were obliged to swim across. The
stream was swollen and the waters rapid, but fortunately we all reached
in safety the other shore; then we had to put on our wheels to get our
sulky in order to prepare for our journey. I was lame and the bishop
feeble. To add to the gloom, clouds gathered over us dark and heavy. It
thundered and lightened, and the rain fell in torrents, and when we were
over the stream to begin our journey we had to ascend a rough, high,
craggy mountain; but as Mr. Asbury wrote, “God brought us in safety to
Muddy Creek. Deep roads and swollen streams we had enough on our route to
Northumberland on Wednesday.”
Northumberland is a pleasant, quiet, romantic place on the Susquehanna.
The distinguished Dr. Joseph Priestley spent the evening of life here,
and died in 1804, aged seventy. He was a splendid scholar, and a great
man; but how different his life, labors, and influence from that of the
apostolic Asbury. They both were adopted citizens of America; both died
at the age of seventy.
On Friday, after an unparalleled week of toil and suffering, we reached
Middletown, Pa., and took dinner with our old friend Dr. Romer. A number
of the neighbors heard of the bishop’s arrival and came to see him, and
urged him to preach; but he had only time to pray with them, and say
“farewell.” But it was very refreshing, after having for so long put up
at miserable taverns, and been among strangers, and through such perils,
to meet with so many familiar faces and kind friends.
In the afternoon we journeyed on to my father’s. My aged parents embraced
me with joy, while I felt “there is no place like home.” Bishop Asbury
and my father gave to each other the kiss of affection, and mutually
encircled each other in their arms. That day we rode fifty miles. From
Charleston to my father’s house we had traveled two thousand two hundred
and twenty-five miles. The bishop preached on Saturday evening at
“Boehm’s Chapel.”
His letters were generally sent to the care of my father, and at his
house he answered them, so he was generally busy with his pen after our
arrival home. He found fifteen letters waiting this time, and he answered
them all on Saturday.
CHAPTER XXVI.
ANNUAL TOUR, 1810—WESTERN CONFERENCE.
After an absence of months I remained at home one day and two nights, and
the bishop said, “Henry, we must move.” My father and sister and many
others went with us to Lancaster, where, on the fifth of August, we had a
great day. The bishop even felt an interest in this place, where we had
such a hard time to obtain a foothold. He preached morning and evening,
James Smith at three, and I immediately after him in German. The bishop
rejoiced to see such a comfortable house of worship here, and wrote:
“After forty years’ labor we have a neat little chapel of our own.”
“Good-by,” I said to my friends, and at noon on Monday we were at
Columbia, where the bishop preached. I was lame, and the lameness was
increasing; but I did not name it to my parents lest they should urge
me to stay home, or worry about me when I was gone; therefore I bore
my sufferings in silence. From Columbia we went to York. Methodism was
introduced here in 1781 by Freeborn Garrettson. On Wednesday to Carlisle,
where the bishop drew up a plan for a new meeting-house, and answered
twenty letters.
The bishop preached in Shippensburgh from Gal. vi, 9, then we went to
Chambersburgh. We had there a neat little chapel in the town, but the
bishop preached in the court-house, as it would hold more people. Bishop
Asbury made but two visits to this place, and I was with him on both
occasions, the one in 1810, the other in 1811.
The next day our ride was terrible over three lofty mountains, and we
were under the rays of an August sun, and I suffering almost martyrdom
with my lame leg. James Hunter kindly escorted us to Fort Littleton, and
took us to his own house, and treated us as if we were angels. The bishop
says, “On Sunday, August 12, at Littleton Chapel, I preached, and we
administered the sacrament; but as my aid was lame the labor fell on me.
Though wearied and sore with traveling I enjoyed a gracious season.”
I was so lame and in such misery that I was advised to remain at home;
but lame or not lame, bright and early the next morning we were on our
journey to Bloody Run, and though it rained, we reached it at three
o’clock. After having changed our wet garments the bishop preached at
four from Luke xiii, 12, and as soon as he had done I preached in German
from John iii, 19, and at night I preached again in English from Acts
x, 35, and Joshua Monroe exhorted. It was a time of power, and we had a
shout in the camp.
We preached at Bomerdollar’s tavern. There were seven of his family who
professed to belong to the household of faith. It is not often there
is as much salt in a public house. There is generally no room for the
Saviour at the inn.
The roads next day were intolerable. The bishop said, “I enter my
protest, as I have yearly for forty years, against this road.” In the
evening we reached Connellsville, in Fayette County, one hundred and
thirty-four miles from Chambersburgh. It was so called from Zachariah
Connell, who laid it out seventy years ago. Mr. Asbury must have felt a
little sad when he wrote, “O what a life is this! My aid is lame, and I
am obliged to drive.” It will also be seen how the bishop employed his
time, and how deeply he felt for the Germans, for he adds: “People call
me by my name as they pass me on the road, and I hand them a religious
tract in German or in English, or I call at a door for a glass of water,
and leave a little pamphlet. How can I be useful? I am old and feeble
and sick, and can do but little; and the poor Germans! they are as sheep
without a shepherd.”
On Saturday we reached Brownsville. This is where the old Redstone fort
was. We then went to Pike Run camp-meeting, on Jacob Gruber’s district,
in Washington County. This county was the hotbed of the famous “Whisky
Rebellion.” There were one hundred tents and four or five hundred people
encamped on the ground. Sunday was a high day. There were three thousand
people in the grove. I opened the campaign in the morning by preaching
from Acts x, 35 at eleven, and in the evening Bishop Asbury preached, and
in the afternoon Jacob Gruber.
In reference to this meeting Bishop Asbury says, “There were very wicked
people there, I learned, who desperately libeled Brother M’Kendree and
the preachers, and committed other abominable offenses. On Monday I was
called upon to preach in the morning. I took occasion to give a solemn
warning to certain sons of Belial that they would be watched, and their
names published. I felt much, but God was in the word.” He was very
pointed, and it had a good effect upon the sons of Belial.
Friday, August 26, brought us to Pittsburgh. Bishop Asbury visited
this town as early as July, 1789. The population in 1786 was only five
hundred. It was a little settlement when Mr. Asbury first visited it, and
when we were there in 1810 there were only five thousand inhabitants.
On his first visit he wrote: “I preached in the evening to a serious
audience. This is a day of very small things. What can we hope? yet what
can we fear? I felt great love to the people, and hope God will arise
to help and bless them.” He remained in Pittsburgh several days on that
visit. He preached on Monday, and says the people were attentive; “but,
alas! they are far from God, and too near the savages in situation and
manners.” This must have been the introduction of Methodism in Pittsburgh.
More than a dozen years rolled away before Asbury visited Pittsburgh
again; that was in August, 1803, the year I traveled with him almost to
this place, and then returned. On Sunday, August 27, 1803, the bishop
preached in the court-house in the morning from 1 Chron. vii, 14 to about
four hundred people. He says, “I would have preached again, but the
Episcopalians occupied the house. I come once in twelve years, but they
could not consent to give way for me. It is time we had a house of our
own. I think I have seen a lot which will answer to build upon.”
We put up with John Wrenshall. On Sunday the bishop preached on the
foundation of the new meeting-house at nine o’clock to about five hundred
hearers. Text, Mark xi, 17, “My house shall be called of all nations the
house of prayer,” etc. I exhorted. At two o’clock I preached at Brother
Cooper’s house from 1 John iii, 1, “Behold what manner,” etc. At five
Asbury preached again on the foundation of our Church to a thousand
people. The bishop adds: “The society here is lively and increasing in
numbers, and the prospect still is good in this borough.”
On Monday morning we left Pittsburgh, piloted for a few miles by John
Wrenshall.
The next day we reached John Beck’s. There I carved my name on a tree,
with the date of our being there. The old tree may still be standing
to witness that Henry Boehm was there the 30th of August, 1810, over
fifty years ago; but where is our host, his family, and his guests? They
have fallen; I am left alone. On we traveled to a camp-meeting at Little
Kanawha. James Quin was presiding elder of the district where it was
held. We were the guests of Richard Lee, brother of Rev. Wilson Lee.
On Sabbath morning, at eight o’clock, I preached from Prov. xviii, 10.
Bishop Asbury at eleven, from 1 Tim. iv, 16, “Take heed unto thyself,
and unto the doctrine,” etc.; after which he ordained John Holmes to the
office of an elder. There were a great many such ordinations wherever
the bishop traveled. It accommodated those who could not go far to
conference. At three James Quin gave us a powerful sermon from 2 Thess.
i, 7-10, on the second coming of Jesus. I preached again in the evening.
On Monday morning the Lord’s supper was administered; after which the
bishop preached a profitable discourse on 1 Peter v, 7-9.
We left the encampment, and I preached at Brother Wolf’s, in German, from
Acts viii, 35. I had great liberty in speaking to a people who had not
heard the Gospel in their mother tongue in ten or twelve years. Bishop
Asbury held forth in English immediately after. James Quin continued with
us several days, and he was most excellent company.
On Wednesday the bishop preached in the school-house on a bluff
opposite Blennerhassett’s Island. I saw the beautiful island where
Harman Blennerhassett and his beautiful wife dwelt in most surpassing
loveliness, till a blight came over this terrestrial Eden and destroyed
it. The reader must be familiar with the melancholy history of this most
unfortunate family.
On Tuesday we crossed the Ohio into Belpre, and put up at Mr. Browning’s.
The lady of the house, who was from Old Connecticut, was delighted in
entertaining a Methodist bishop. She conversed with him readily, and
lamented the destitution of the West in regard to able preachers, and
spoke of the elegant meeting-houses, pews, organs, singing, and the
charming preachers of the East. “O bishop,” said she, “you can’t tell!”
The bishop, delighted with her enthusiastic descriptions, exclaimed, “O
yes, yes, Old Connecticut for all the world!
“A fine house and a high steeple,
A learned priest and a gay people.”
After considerable further conversation she inquired, “Bishop, where do
you live?” With the utmost solemnity, and with a countenance and tone
that showed the deep emotion of his soul, he replied,
“No foot of land do I possess,
No cottage in the wilderness,
A poor wayfaring man.”
The bishop preached in Belpre school-house from Luke xix, 10.
Colonel Putnam, son of Israel Putnam, who bearded the wolf in his den,
and who also bearded the British lion, invited the bishop, Brother Quin,
and myself to the house of Mr. Waldo, grandson of the old veteran. We
had a hearty welcome and were treated like princes. In the evening six
or eight gentlemen, revolutionary officers, with their ladies, were
invited in, and we spent a most agreeable evening. The conversation was
very entertaining and instructing, and the bishop took a very active part
in it. But he would often manage to give the conversation a religious
turn, to which the company would bow assent. The bishop prayed before the
company retired. We lodged that night in a splendid ball-room. “Here,”
said the bishop, as he kneeled down, “they used to worship the devil; let
us worship God.”
Early next morning we bade adieu to our polite host and were on our way
to Athens, and on Thursday we arrived at the camp-meeting near that town.
We had now traveled five hundred and forty-two miles since we left my
father’s, and three thousand four hundred and sixty-seven miles since we
left Charleston.
Much good was done at this camp-meeting. We had four sermons on Sunday,
Bishop Asbury preaching twice. I preached in German.
Traveling on and preaching every night we reached Chillicothe, and put up
with Dr. Tiffin. The bishop says, “I am happy to find him no longer in
public life, but a private citizen, respectable and respected, and the
work of God revived in his soul. I have preached to many souls in the
late camp-meetings. Lord, give thy word success. My own soul is humbled
and purified. Glory be to God!” The bishop preached in the evening from
Rev. xvi, 15.
On Sunday Bishop Asbury preached in Chillicothe, and baptized a whole
family of Quaker descent. He dwelt upon the nature of the ordinance
of baptism, and the duty it imposes upon parents. It was a rare thing
for birthright Quakers to be brought over to the faith, for they are
generally as unyielding as the oak; but we have noticed when they are
really converted they make most excellent Methodists. This was the case
with that bright and shining light, John Collins.
On Thursday we reached Cincinnati, and were entertained at Oliver
Spencer’s. On Friday evening I preached in German from John viii, 36 on
being free indeed, and Bishop Asbury exhorted. The bishop was very happy
in his remarks. He was always present when it was practicable to hear me
preach in German. He had a great love for the Germans, and an imperfect
knowledge of the German language. On Sabbath the bishop preached morning
and evening, and I in the afternoon. It was a day of great consolation
to many.
On Monday we visited several families, and prayed with them, and then
in the evening Father Asbury met the society and gave them a pastoral
address. It was his custom to meet classes and to meet the societies,
and give them good advice and wise suggestions, and in these family
gatherings and family lectures the bishop often excelled himself.
Having spent four days in this goodly city we prepared for our departure.
The bishop felt a peculiar affection for the people in Cincinnati, as
may be seen from the following extract from his journal: “Sunday, 30, I
preached morning and evening. It was a season of deep seriousness with
the congregations. I felt an intimate communion with God, and a great
love to the people, saints and poor sinners. Monday, met the society;
Tuesday, we bade farewell to our affectionate friends in Cincinnati.
The great river was covered with mist until nine o’clock, when the airy
curtain rose slowly from the waters, gliding along in expanded and silent
majesty.”
We traveled in Kentucky, preaching every day. The bishop makes this
singular record: “The Methodists are all for camp-meetings, the Baptists
are for public baptizings. I am afraid this dipping with many is the _ne
plus ultra_ of Christian experience.”
On Saturday we reached Joseph Ferguson’s, and on Sunday spent the day at
Ferguson’s Chapel. Here Bishop M’Kendree, Learner Blackman, James Gwin,
and Peter Cartwright overtook us, and our spirits were much refreshed. We
had not seen Bishop M’Kendree since we parted with him at Lyons at the
close of the Genesee Conference. He had returned by another route. Now
the two bishops and the preachers started in company for the seat of the
Western Conference.
Bishop Asbury’s soul was delighted to hear of the enlargement of the
borders of Zion, and he wrote in ecstasy: “We have an open door set
wide to us in Mississippi. The preachers there sent but one messenger
to conference; they could not spare more. They keep their ground like
soldiers of Christ. Good news from the south. Great prospects within the
bounds of the South Carolina Conference.”
The Western Conference was held in the new chapel, Shelby County, Ky.,
commencing on November 1, 1810. The two bishops were present, and nearly
a hundred preachers from their various fields of toil. The conference
began, continued, and ended in peace.
I preached on Saturday, at early candle-light, from Matt. xi, 28, 29.
On Sabbath Bishop M’Kendree preached one of his mighty sermons, and
Bishop Asbury exhorted with wonderful power. Then the elders and deacons
were ordained. Fourteen were admitted into full membership and ordained
deacons, among whom were William Winans and James Gwin. The latter was
also ordained elder at this conference. He had been a local preacher
years before he entered the traveling connection. John Crane and a number
of others were ordained at the same time. Twenty-six were received on
trial, among whom were John Strange and Michael Ellis, and other pure and
noble spirits. J. B. Finley was continued on trial. There had been an
increase of four thousand members in the Western Conference this year.
The bishops assigned fields of labor to ninety-five preachers, and then
we parted to cultivate Immanuel’s land.
CHAPTER XXVII.
TOUR TO SOUTH CAROLINA CONFERENCE.
On Tuesday, October 9, we rode to Winchester, capital of Clarke County,
Ky., and were the guests of Leroy Cole. The history of this brother is
a peculiar one. He became a traveling preacher as early as 1777. His
first appointment was to North Carolina with John Dickins and John King,
one of the pioneers in that state. He was in Kent, Delaware, and on the
Peninsula, Maryland, with Gill and Tunnell, and did noble service. In
1784 he was in Philadelphia. He was a member of the famous Christmas
Conference in Baltimore, where the Methodist Episcopal Church was
organized in 1784. In 1785 we find in the Minutes the question, “Who is
laid aside? Answer, Leroy Cole.” This is all the light we have on the
subject, and this is enough to make darkness visible. There might have
been injustice done him, for soon after he was restored, and he was a
traveling or local preacher for over fifty years. He early emigrated to
the West, and settled near Lexington, Ky., where he was a farmer, beloved
and respected. Mr. Asbury’s visiting him and the friendship he exhibited
shows he had confidence in him. He was a Virginian, born in 1749,
converted in 1777, and the same year licensed to preach and entered the
traveling ministry. He sustained a local relation when we visited him.
He was afterward a member of the Kentucky Conference. He died in triumph
February 6, 1830, aged eighty-one.
We remained two days at Leroy Coles’s, and the bishop preached on
Thursday evening. On Saturday he preached at Abraham Cassell’s, brother
to Rev. Leonard Cassell of the Baltimore Conference, who died in 1808.
Abraham had emigrated from Pipe Creek, Md.
On Sunday, at Nicholasville, the bishop preached, and I in the evening at
Brother Cassell’s on Matt. v, 20, and then gave them another discourse in
German.
At Brother Cassell’s the bishop heard sad intelligence of the death of
Benjamin Swope. He had died the winter before. The bishop says, “My old
acquaintance was a man of more than common mind and gifts, and might have
been much more useful than I fear he was.” Mr. Swope was a minister among
“The United Brethren.” Mr. Asbury became acquainted with him in 1771, and
through him with the great Otterbein.
On Monday we visited an old minister, one of the pioneers of the West,
and the bishop makes this melancholy record. I never read it without
pain: “This has been an awful day to me. I visited Francis Poythress.
‘If thou be he; but O how fallen!’” Perhaps no record in his journals
has been so little understood as this, and none more liable to be
misinterpreted. Some have supposed that he had fallen like wretched
apostates, who have made shipwreck of the faith; but it was not so, and
the bishop would not willingly or knowingly have done the unfortunate
brother injustice. My journal reads thus: “Monday 15, we went with
Brother Harris to see Francis Poythress, one of our old preachers.
He _has been for ten years in a state of insanity, and is still in a
distressed state of mind_. We then returned to Brother Harris’s.” This
is the record I made over fifty years ago, and it was italicised as the
reader now sees it.
Francis Poythress was one of the leaders in our Israel. He was admitted
into the traveling connection at the third conference, held in 1776, with
Freeborn Garrettson, Joseph Hartley, Nicholas Watters, and others. He was
a pioneer of the West. In 1790, John Tunnel dying, Francis Poythress was
appointed elder at the West, having five large circuits on his district,
and on them were Wilson Lee, James Haw, and Barnabas M’Henry. We have not
space to trace his history. His excessive labors shattered his system,
and his body and intellect were both injured. About the year 1800 he
became deranged, and a gloom settled down upon him not to be removed.
When Asbury saw him he was shocked, contrasting his former look with
his appearance then. He was then living with his sister, twelve miles
below Lexington. Bishop Asbury never saw him more; death soon came to the
relief of poor Francis Poythress, and none who knew him doubt but he is
among the clear unclouded intellects of the upper and better world.
On Friday Bishops Asbury and M’Kendree, James Gwin, and myself started
for Cumberland, Tennessee. Before we left an event occurred that pleased
me much. Bishop Asbury sold our sulky and bought a horse. His object was
to get through the wilderness to Georgia easier. The bishop remarked,
“The reward of my toils is not to be found in this world.” No, thou
venerable man of God, but thou art finding it in the other, “for if we
suffer with him we shall also reign with him.”
At Springfield Hills Bishop M’Kendree preached an excellent sermon in the
morning; I exhorted. In the afternoon the Rev. Mr. M’Clelland preached
from “The time is short.” Bishop Asbury followed right after from “Now is
the accepted time,” and James Gwin exhorted after him.
On Thursday we reached the residence of James Gwin, near Fountain Head.
Here we found a comfortable home. Mr. Gwin was one of the early pioneers
in Tennessee, and with Andrew Jackson he fought the Cherokee Indians.
General Jackson greatly admired him. He was chaplain in Jackson’s army at
the time of the battle of New Orleans. He was a noble man, and did noble
service in the Western and Tennessee Conferences. Bishop M’Kendree and
James Gwin were long intimate friends, and the latter named his son after
the bishop.[35] There was a chapel not far from his house called “Gwin’s
Chapel.”
On Friday I went to see Bishop M’Kendree’s father; he was a venerable
looking man of eighty-six years, and was like a patriarch in the
family, greatly beloved. Also James M’Kendree, brother of the bishop,
and his sister Frances. The family emigrated from Virginia. James was
a sterling man. Frances was converted under John Easter as well as the
bishop. Frances married Rev. Nathaniel Moore in 1815, and she died in
peace January 1, 1825. The venerated father of the bishop died in holy
joy in 1815. And here in Tennessee, many years after, at the house of
his brother James, the bishop fell at his post, loaded with honors and
covered with scars, shouting, “All is well.” Here he was buried.
On Saturday and Sunday night I lodged with Bishop Asbury at James
M’Kendree’s. On Sunday morning Bishop Asbury preached at Gwin’s Chapel,
and the other part of the day at Fountain Head meeting-house. This was
near where James M’Kendree lived.
Bishop Asbury seemed to be delighted to be rid of his sulky and on
horseback again; for he says, “Since I am on horseback my fetters are
gone; I meditate much more at ease.” The advantages of being on horseback
he thus designates: “1. That I can better turn aside and visit the poor.
2. I shall save money to give away to the needy. 3. I can get along more
difficult and intricate roads. And lastly, I can be more tender to my
poor faithful beast.” Surely these were weighty reasons.
On Monday the 19th the two bishops and myself started for South Carolina
by way of Buncombe. We reached John M’Gee’s, (father-in-law of Thomas L.
Douglas,) about thirty-five miles from Fountain Head. We have rode one
thousand one hundred and fifty-three miles since I left my father’s, and
four thousand one hundred and seventy-eight miles from Charleston.
Tuesday brought us to Dr. Tooley’s. On Wednesday we started for the
Holston settlements with Brother John M’Gee, crossing Cumberland River
at Walton’s Ferry. After days of hard toiling, on Saturday evening we
reached Brother Winton’s. On Sunday the 25th Bishop M’Kendree preached in
the meeting house on Matt. v, 3, “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” etc.
John M’Gee and I exhorted. Bishop Asbury preached at Brother Winton’s in
the evening.
For days we toiled on, and on Friday we took a new route over the
mountains. We started about seven o’clock and crossed Big Creek with some
difficulty, and not without danger, the water being deep and rapid and
the bottom very rocky. After crossing we had to toil several hours over
high mountains, and then came to Catahouche Creek; here on its banks
in the woods we took a little bread and gave our horses some oats. The
venerable bishops asked a blessing over our humble meal, and were as
thankful as if seated at a well spread table in a parlor.
This was a deep and rapid stream. After we had refreshed both man and
beast we prepared to cross. There was no bridge. Brother M’Gee rode
through and we drove our horses after him, then the bishops and myself
walked over the rapid stream on a tree, and were thankful to get across
in safety. The next thing was to climb the Catoluche Mountain. No wonder
the bishop wrote, “But O, the mountain, height after height, and five
miles over;” and to add to our troubles, we got lost in the wilderness
and crossed other streams, wandering hour after hour in the home of wild
beasts. Seventeen miles we went through a dreary wilderness. We came to
a gate which we entered and passed through the settlements on Jonathan’s
and Richland Creeks, and came in at Brother Jacob Shuck’s at nine o’clock
in the evening, long after dark, weary, cold, and hungry; but my soul
was stayed on the Lord. Bishop Asbury characterizes this as “an awful
day.”
Bishop M’Kendree and Brother Magee went a few miles to attend a two days’
meeting at Rev. Samuel Edney’s, and we spent the Sabbath in Buncombe.
Bishop Asbury preached for the Rev. Mr. Newton, a Presbyterian minister,
whom he loved exceedingly, not only for his catholic spirit, but his
strong resemblance to Bishop Whatcoat both in regard to placidity and
solemnity.
After crossing mountains and streams, a week from Monday 10th brought us
to Rev. James Jenkins’s. He had located some years before, and the bishop
was delighted that he was going to re-enter the traveling connection. The
bishop here received from the North the sad news of the death of his old
friends Jesse Hollingsworth, Peter Hoffman, and John Bloodgood. The next
day Brother Jenkins rode with us to Camden. Father Asbury met a class at
night in Brother Mathis’s room.
In regard to our late route Mr. Asbury wrote thus: “Great fatigue, my
lame horse, and unknown roads where we lose ourselves, are small trials;
but ‘as thy days so shall thy strength be.’” He then wrote what is very
complimentary to the inhabitants of Carolina, and contrasts strangely
with some who would take the bishop’s last cent for a little refreshment:
“We are not, nor have we been lately, much among our own people; but
it has made little difference in the article of expense. The generous
Carolinians are polite and kind, and will not take our money.”
On Friday the 14th we left Camden and rode to Father Rembert’s. Brother
William M. Kenneday, Brother Gilman, myself, and several others fixed the
seats in the new meeting-house. We spent the Sabbath there. Father Asbury
preached in the morning, and William M. Kenneday followed him. I preached
in the evening, and William Capers exhorted. Bishop Asbury was very much
indisposed here for several days.
On Thursday we rode with quite a number of preachers to Columbia, the
seat of the South Carolina Conference. It was held in the private mansion
of Colonel Thomas Taylor, United States senator. He was not a Methodist,
but was very friendly. He and his family were at Washington, and he gave
up his whole house for the conference to be held there, and the preachers
to remain in it. He gave two brethren, Wyth and Williamson, the privilege
of moving into his house and entertaining the preachers.
The conference commenced on Saturday, December 22. After singing and
prayer, Bishop Asbury addressed the conference in a most parental and
affectionate manner, stating, among other things, that he was in the
fiftieth year of his ministerial service and his fortieth in America,
and that he could not endure such labors much longer. The brethren were
deeply affected. The conference commenced and progressed in great
harmony.
On Sunday morning at eight o’clock we had a social meeting, composed of
traveling and local preachers, in the conference room. Several spoke
of the dealing of God to their souls. It was a blessed privilege to
listen to these warm-hearted southern brethren as they talked of Jesus
and his love. Surely we sat together in a heavenly place in Christ
Jesus. To crown the whole, we had a pastoral address from Bishops Asbury
and M’Kendree. It was a moving and a memorable time. At eleven Bishop
Asbury preached from 2 Cor. iii, 12. Plainness of speech was dwelt upon
with great effect. The congregation was immense, and there was great
seriousness. At three Bishop M’Kendree preached from 2 Cor. v, 20, “Now,
then, we are embassadors for Christ,” etc. The sermon was masterly. No
wonder I added, “The Lord was with us. Glory to the Saviour that such an
unworthy creature as I am permitted to enjoy such a refreshing season
from the presence of the Lord! Glorious Sabbath, never to be forgotten in
time or eternity.” On Monday at eleven I preached from John i, 11, 12.
The Lord made the word a blessing to some souls.
Tuesday was Christmas day. In the morning James Russell preached at five
o’clock from Mark i, 15. It was a great privilege to hear that original
genius preach. I added under the sermon, “There was a shout in the camp.
Glory! halleluiah!” The preachers in those days were up in the morning;
they were not caught napping. Early as it was, long before the sun got
out of bed, there were over three hundred hearers. At eleven o’clock
Bishop Asbury ordained eleven promising men to the office of deacon,
after which Jonathan Jackson preached on Rev. xiv, 6, 7.
Love and harmony seems to increase in our conference. Twenty preachers
were admitted on trial, and there was about two thousand five hundred
increase of members. The elders were ordained on Friday, the last day of
the session, after Bishop Asbury had preached a sermon admirably adapted
to the occasion from Heb. iii, 12, 14.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
VIRGINIA, BALTIMORE, PHILADELPHIA, AND NEW ENGLAND CONFERENCES.
We left Columbia for Charleston on Saturday, December 30, accompanied by
that noble man of God, Lewis Myers. We reached General Rumph’s, on the
Orangeburgh District, where we spent the Sabbath. He was a man of mark,
a general of the Revolution, and a noble soldier in the Christian army.
The general had two sons, Christian and Jacob Rumph, who were excellent
men and superior preachers. Jacob was in the work only five years. He
joined in 1808, and died in Charleston in 1813. His father was wealthy,
and Jacob might have richly enjoyed the good things of this life, but
he chose to endure the hardships of an itinerant ministry. His career
was short, but brilliant; his end triumphant. I have noticed for a long
lifetime that those families that early entertained the Lord’s prophets
were greatly blessed. The Lord put the broad seal of his approbation upon
them, and this is strikingly illustrated in the family of General Rumph.
The general was one of the first that welcomed Methodist ministers in
that part of South Carolina. Bishop Asbury makes the following honorable
record: “God has repaid this family for its kindness to the poor
followers of the Lord Jesus. There are four sons and three daughters,
gracious souls. Two of the sons, Jacob and Christian, are preachers of
the Gospel.” This was the bishop’s last interview with General Rumph.
Before his next annual round the general was in the sepulcher.
We reached Charleston January 2, 1811, and spent several days there. The
bishop preached several times. I attended to some important business for
the Book Room, procuring drafts, etc. After several days’ riding and
preaching, on Monday 28 we crossed Cape Fear River at Governor Smith’s
Ferry. The bishop was oft in perils on the land, on the water, on the
mountains, and in the woods. Of these he makes but little mention in his
journal. One of the most fearful perils he had while I was with him was
at this ferry. We started to cross with one ferryman instead of two. I
was holding the bridles of our horses, standing between their heads.
Another ferryman came up with a canoe. I warned him not to let it strike
our boat; but he did not heed the caution, and his canoe struck our
scow, which so frightened one horse that he sprang against the other and
both went overboard. The bishop and myself were also in danger of being
knocked overboard and drowned, as the water was very deep. The bishop
was seated at the end of the scow with his staff in his hand. One of the
horses struck the staff and broke it, and a little more and it might
have broke his leg or knocked the feeble old man overboard. I held on
to the reins of one, and he swam along the side of the scow; the other
began to swim toward the shore, but seeing which way the other horse was
swimming he turned round and passed us, and reached the opposite shore
before we did. There he sunk in the mud, and his exertions to escape only
sunk him deeper, and his case became more hopeless. The bishop looked
very sad as he saw his favorite animal floundering in the mud. Just then
an old colored woman, a slave, made her appearance, and she was full of
sympathy. “O,” said the bishop, “my horse is mired, and I am afraid we
shall never be able to get him out.” “O yes, massa,” said she, “you will,
for we will call the colored people down from their quarters, and they
will lift him out bodily.” At this the bishop laughed most heartily. But
previous to sending for help I thought I would try what could be done. So
I got a rail and put it under the horse’s haunches, and he gave a spring
and was soon out, to the bishop’s great joy as well as my own.
The bishop’s saddle-bags were fastened to his saddle, mine were not, and
they floated down the stream. I felt much anxiety until I recovered them,
as I had many dollars in them belonging to the Book Room. Our clothes,
books, and manuscripts were all well soaked. We spent hours in drying
them, and then started on our journey. Bishop Asbury was much alarmed,
far more so than I had ever seen him. Our preservation and that of the
horses was providential, and we had special cause for thanksgiving.[36]
The Virginia Conference commenced its session in Raleigh, N. C., on
February 7, 1811. In 1810 the conference was held in Newbern, and the
citizens of Raleigh sent an invitation to have the next session there,
pledging themselves to entertain the preachers and their horses. We
had a very small society at Raleigh, and the brethren considered the
invitation providential, and accepted it. I know of no particular account
of this memorable conference anywhere. It was held in the state-house,
in the senate chamber, and we preached in the hall of the House of
Representatives. There was preaching three times a day. C. H. Hines and
Jesse Lee preached the first day. On Friday Bishop M’Kendree preached at
eleven o’clock, and I at three. The work of conviction was going on, and
a number were converted in the evening. Saturday was a day of the Lord’s
power. The work not only continued during the day, but till midnight.
On Sunday Bishop Asbury preached in the morning to a thousand people,
and Thomas L. Douglass at three o’clock. Many embraced religion, and
the interest continued to increase to the last. This was the greatest
time I had seen for years at any conference for the display of saving
power. Over fifty were converted and united with us, among whom were the
Secretary of State and some of his family. This revival gave such an
impetus to Methodism in Raleigh that they proceeded to build a church
that year, and Methodism had a character and permanency that remains to
this day. We put up with a kind family named Mears, who kept a public
house. They shared in the blessings of the Gospel, for some of them
experienced religion during the conference.
For three nights Bishop Asbury, Thomas L. Douglass, and myself lodged
with our aged friend, Rev. William Glendenning, who came and insisted
that we should put up with him. He was a Scotchman, a man of rather
large stature, and had something of a brogue. He was one of our earliest
preachers, having been received at the conference held in 1776, when
there were only nineteen Methodist preachers in America. This made him
to me an object of great interest. His first appointment was Brunswick,
Virginia, with George Shadford, Edward Drumgoole, and Robert Williams.
Mr. Glendenning was remarkably eccentric, if not a little “cracked.” I
knew him very early, having seen him at my father’s house and heard
him preach. He withdrew in 1785. He afterward joined the “Republican
Methodists” under James O’Kelley, and preached among them; then he became
a Unitarian, and built a church in Raleigh. We had a very pleasant time
at his house.
He attended our conference and the preaching, and appeared interested in
the revival scenes; but he would exclaim, “I do not like the government.”
There seemed to be a conflict in his own mind: he believed the work to
be of God—that souls were really converted; and yet he was so strongly
prejudiced against our Church government that he could not see how heaven
had set its seal of approbation upon such measures. At this time he was
an old man. He ended his days in Raleigh.
In 1814 Bishop Asbury visited Raleigh again, and writes: “After all
allowance for drawbacks, we cannot tell all the good that was done by our
conference in Raleigh in 1811.”
I have noticed the conversion of the Secretary of State. His name was
William Hill. He immediately joined the Methodist Church, and was
baptized by Bishop Asbury. Such was the purity of his character that
amid all the changes of party he held the office of Secretary of State
from 1811 till his death in 1857, a period of forty-six years. This is
unparalleled. He was a class-leader and steward for many years. He was
eighty-four when he died.
On the 28th of February we rode to William Watters’s. He retired from
the regular work in 1806, but his heart was always in it. He was now
living in dignified retirement on his farm on the Virginia side of the
Potomac, opposite Georgetown. He was the first traveling preacher raised
up in America. Philip Gatch commenced nearly the same time. They were
intimate, and in their declining years corresponded with each other. Mr.
Watters was a stout man, of medium height, of very venerable and solemn
appearance. Bishop Asbury and he were life-time friends. The bishop was
acquainted with him before he was licensed to preach, and used to call
him familiarly, “Billy Watters.” When these aged men met on this occasion
they embraced and saluted each other with “a holy kiss;” and the bishop,
writing of this visit in his journal, speaks of him as “my dear old
friend, William Watters.” He was distinguished for humility, simplicity,
and purity.
Few holier ministers has the Methodist Church ever had than William
Watters. I rejoice that I was permitted to hear him preach and to
be his guest; to eat at his table, to sit at his fireside, to enjoy
his friendship and hospitality. His house was for years a regular
preaching-place on the circuit. In 1833, at the age of eighty-two, he
died in holy triumph. His name will go down to the end of time bearing
the honored title of _The First American Methodist Traveling Preacher_.
William Watters rode with us about four miles, and then we went to
Georgetown to Henry Foxall’s. On Sunday the bishop preached in Washington
city, in the new chapel, and at Georgetown. On the next Saturday Hamilton
Jefferson, Dr. Hall, and James Smith overtook us, and we journeyed on
together. On Wednesday we reached Pipe Creek, and Bishop Asbury preached
next day at the Pipe Creek Chapel. I held forth at night on Acts x, 33.
Thence we proceeded to Baltimore.
On Wednesday, March 11, 1811, the Baltimore Conference commenced its
session in Light-street Church. The first evening I heard Gill Watt
preach on “The preparation of the heart,” etc.; Thursday, at eleven,
Benedict Reynolds on “Who then can be saved?” There was a good work
in the evening in Light-street Church—sinners awakened and mourners
comforted.
On Sunday morning I heard Jacob Gruber preach in German in Father
Otterbein’s Church. In the afternoon I preached also in German in the
same place, from Gal. vi, 9; my dear old friend Newcomber exhorted.
The revival continued during the conference. Such a work during the
session of a conference is delightful, and should always be expected. At
this conference Beverly Waugh, Joseph Frye, James M. Hanson, and four
others were admitted into full connection and ordained deacons.
On Thursday the conference adjourned, and I went with Bishop Asbury
to see Mr. Otterbein. The interview between these ancient friends was
most delightful. Then we went to Gatch’s meeting-house, and the bishop
preached from Heb. xii, 15. The reader can see what a laborious man the
bishop was when he remembers that after many days’ close sitting in
conference, and stationing so many men, instead of retiring for rest,
that very day he preaches at Gatch’s Chapel. He was the most laborious
man I ever knew.
We had in company with us Brother James Paynter, Sister Gough, and Sister
Dickins, both widows indeed. We went with them to Perry Hall.
On Friday the bishop preached in the camp-meeting chapel and I exhorted.
We returned to Perry Hall. On Saturday we rode to the Fork Chapel, where
the bishop preached and I exhorted. Here we parted with three widows,
Gough, Dickins, and Cassell. The last was the widow of the eloquent
Leonard Cassell, who fell asleep three years before.
I left the bishop and hastened to my father’s, whom I had not seen since
the summer before. To my great joy I found there Bishop M’Kendree and
Robert Burch. On Friday, April 5, Bishop M’Kendree preached in Boehm’s
Chapel on Luke xii, 32. On Sunday Bishop M’Kendree, Robert Burch, and
I preached in Lancaster. On Monday I rode with Bishop M’Kendree to
Strasburgh, where he preached, and we tarried with my old friend Thomas
Ware; thence to Souderburgh, where the bishop preached from Prov. xxiv,
30-34. I returned with him to Strasburgh.
Having rejoined Bishop Asbury, we went to Philadelphia, and put up with
Alexander Cook. This was a very fine family. Their house was then a
little out of town, but the city has now grown out to them. He was the
father-in-law of Rev. John P. Durbin, D.D.
On Saturday the Philadelphia Conference commenced its session in St.
George’s Church. On Sunday I heard three sermons from Bishop M’Kendree,
Stephen G. Roszell, and Bishop Asbury, all in St. George’s. Thomas Burch
and I lodged with my early friend, Dr. Chandler.
On Saturday 27 Bishop M’Kendree, having appointments for preaching ahead,
left Bishop Asbury to finish the work of the conference. Ten preachers
were admitted on trial, among whom were Joseph Lybrand. The conference
adjourned on Monday. I wrote, “It seems the voice of Providence that I
should keep on with Bishop Asbury.”
On Wednesday we went to Germantown, and Bishop Asbury preached in the
evening. Here he was visited by those distinguished physicians, Drs.
Rush and Physic. It was my privilege to be present at the interview.
Dr. Benjamin Rush, as a man, a patriot, a physician, and a scholar,
occupied the first rank. He was one of the signers of the Declaration
of Independence. Bishop Asbury was delighted with their attentions, as
will appear from the following entry in his journal: “Wednesday, May
1, I preached in Germantown. Drs. Rush and Physic paid me a visit. How
consoling it is to know that these great characters are men fearing God!
I was much gratified, as I ever am, by their attentions, kindness, and
charming conversation; indeed they have been of eminent use to me, and I
acknowledge their services with gratitude.”
The bishop had had several interviews with them before, but I believe
this was the last. In less than two years Dr. Rush was in his grave. He
died in Philadelphia, April 19, 1813, aged sixty-seven. Bishop Asbury
lived only five years after. Dr. Physic, who was much younger than
either, died in 1837, aged sixty-nine.
It was at this interview, as they were separating, the bishop inquired
what he should pay for their professional services. They answered,
“Nothing; only an interest in your prayers.” Said Bishop Asbury, “As I do
not like to be in debt we will pray now;” and he knelt down and offered
a most impressive prayer that God would bless and reward them for their
kindness to him.
We were next to visit the New York Conference. On May 18 we came to
Powles Hook, and had to wait two hours for wind to cross the Hudson
River. We went over then in sail-boats, and there was not wind enough to
fill the sails. In this go-ahead, rushing age, when every one is in a
hurry, what would a person think of being delayed at a ferry two hours?
Now you cross every three minutes, as regular as clock-work.
We put up in New York at Sister Grice’s. She was a widow, from Annapolis.
She had a daughter who was also a widow, Mrs. Ann Tucker. They were
milliners, and lived in William-street, and their house was an excellent
home. Our old friend, Mrs. John Mills, where we put up last year, was
dead.
The conference commenced its session in New York May 20, 1811. Both the
bishops were present. There was nothing special except the election of
delegates to the General Conference in 1812. The New York Conference was
the first that elected its delegates. There was considerable excitement,
and some electioneering. They elected thirteen. Freeborn Garrettson
headed the delegation, and was followed by Daniel Ostrander, Aaron Hunt,
William Phœbus, William Anson, Nathan Bangs, Laban Clark, Truman Bishop,
Eben Smith, Henry Stead, Billy Hibbard, Seth Crowell, and Samuel Merwin.
They are all gone years ago, except the venerable Laban Clark.
On Friday, May 31, the bishop preached at the “two-mile stone,” as it
was called, or “Bowery Village.” It was considered out of the city. He
preached in an academy in what is now St. Mark’s Place. The society
there was early organized. John and Gilbert Coutant were among the early
members. This was the germ of what is now the Seventh-street Church, one
of the most flourishing in New York.
We put up with George Suckley, Esq., a wealthy gentleman of the old
school, who came over to America with Dr. Coke. We had the company of
Rev. Ezekiel Cooper, Freeborn Garrettson, and Daniel Hitt. Brother
Garrettson and Brother Suckley were intimate friends, and in 1827 Mr.
Garrettson died at the house of his friend in New York.
Onward to Sherwood Yale, and spent the Sabbath there and at New Rochelle.
Here Thomas Paine was buried, and has a monument. On Monday to Croton to
General Van Cortland’s. The governor was ninety-one years old, with clear
mental faculties, and, best of all, happy in God his Saviour. The bishop
preached at three o’clock on the prodigal’s return.
On Friday, June 7, we reached George Ingraham’s in Amenia. On Saturday
I wrote thus: “This day I am thirty-six years old, and it is twelve
years since I joined the Methodist connection. My much esteemed senior,
Thomas Ware, asked me if I had ‘a desire to join society.’ I answered,
‘If the society could venture on their part, I was willing to make the
trial.’ He then set down my name. It is ten years last January since I
left my dear father and mother and relations, with small gifts and little
Christian experience, and less in the ministry, not knowing much of men
and things, and but little knowledge of the English tongue; and yet
the people have generally received me in the character of an itinerant
minister in different parts of our continent. This is indeed marvelous.
It is the Lord’s doing. My soul feels deeply humbled in love and
gratitude before the Lord. Halleluiah! The sun shines bright, the meadows
and fields are clothed with grass, wheat, etc.; all nature smiles. O
for a trumpet’s voice and the power of the Spirit! that Henry might
successfully call souls to God.” I have transcribed this from my journal
that the reader might see the scrap of history it contains, and also the
frame of mind I was in at that time when I was a houseless wanderer.
After spending the Sabbath at Amenia, we traveled through Hillsdale,
Lenox, Pittsfield, Pownal, and Bennington, to Ashgrove. We stopped at
Brother John Armitage’s, and here we met Bishop M’Kendree and Elijah
Chichester, who accompanied him to the New England Conference. Ashgrove,
as the reader well knows, is Methodist classic ground.
On Wednesday we reached Barnard, Vermont, the seat of the New England
Conference. We put up with Andrew Stevens. On Thursday, June 20,
the session commenced. They had preaching every day. Elijah Hedding
preached at eleven o’clock from Isaiah xl, 1, 2. It was a sermon full of
consolation. On Friday there was a general fast that was observed by six
conferences, and Bishop Asbury preached and ordained the deacons. It was
a gracious time. The elders were ordained on Sunday afternoon after a
sermon by Bishop M’Kendree.
On Tuesday, after a pleasant session, the Conference adjourned, and the
preachers repaired with cheerfulness to their different fields of labor.
Here also I witnessed the first election by this conference of delegates
to the General Conference. Nine were chosen: George Pickering, Oliver
Beale, Elijah Hedding, Joshua Soule, William Stevens, Asa Kent, Solomon
Sias, Joel Winch, and Daniel Webb. They have been gone years ago, except
Daniel Webb, who entered the traveling ministry sixty-seven years ago,
and Joshua Soule.
CHAPTER XXIX.
BISHOP ASBURY’S VISIT TO CANADA.
For many years Bishop Asbury had an ardent desire to visit Canada. I was
with the bishop in July, 1809, near Lake Champlain, where he ordained
“Joseph Sampson, a native of Canada, and sent him to be a missionary to
his countrymen.” He adds, “The day of small things will be great; but
the day is not yet come, rather it is still afar off. Patience, my soul!
Do I not feel for the lost sheep? Yea, verily.” We had at that time two
districts in Canada, and a little over two thousand members. The next
year Joseph Sampson was presiding elder of Lower Canada District.
Mr. Asbury believed a bishop should travel through every part of his
diocese, and as far as possible acquaint himself with every part of his
work. When we were in Kentucky, in October, 1809, he wrote: “If spared, I
shall see Canada before I die.”
The foundation of a great work had been laid there by William Lozee,
James Coleman, Darius Dunham, Joseph Sawyer, Hezekiah C. Wooster, Samuel
Coate, Joseph Jewell, Elijah Woolsey, Nathan Bangs, and others, to whom
the Methodists in Canada owe a debt of gratitude. Annually the bishop had
heard of the state of the work there since he appointed William Lozee
the first missionary in 1791.
Mr. Asbury selected the interval between the session of the New England
and Genesee Conferences for his visit to Canada. Had he not gone then he
would never have made the journey, for the war which commenced the next
year between Great Britain and the United States would have prevented,
and by the time war was over the bishop would have been too feeble to
have undertaken it.
According to his usual custom the plan was laid beforehand, his guide
selected, and his appointments sent forward. At Barnard, Vt., Bishop
M’Kendree and he separated, to meet at Paris, N. Y., the seat of the
Genesee Conference, and he and I started for Canada. An ordinary man
would have sought an interval of rest; but the laborious Asbury,
though old and infirm, never thought of repose till the heavenly land
should unfold its boundless loveliness and welcome him to its rest and
refreshment forever.
Our guide was the Rev. Bela Smith, then preaching in Canada, on the
Cornwall Circuit. We had a very severe time on our journey. We crossed
Lake Champlain, and Mr. Asbury preached in a bar-room in Plattsburgh.
The heat was intolerable. The roads through the woods, over rocks, down
gulleys, over stumps, and through the mud, were indescribable. They were
enough to jolt a hale bishop to death, let alone a poor infirm old man
near the grave.
We crossed the Chateaugay and Salmon Rivers, and on Monday, July 1,
reached a large Indian village called St. Regis. The St. Regis River, a
beautiful stream, here enters the grand old St. Lawrence. These Indians,
and there were some thousands of them, were a nation composed of the
fragments of several once powerful tribes, who had been gathered many
years before by a Roman Catholic priest. A part of the Indians belonged
to the United States and the rest to Canada. The St. Lawrence River is
not the line that here separates the two countries. The Indians belonging
to Canada live one side of the line, those belonging to the United
States on the other. They were chiefly Roman Catholics, and had a large
church, with its steeple and bell, and a parsonage, in which the priest
lived, near the bank of the St. Lawrence. The church was built about the
beginning of 1700. They are known as the St. Regis Indians.
In entering the village, as Mr. Asbury was leading his horse across a
bridge made of poles, the animal got his feet between them and sunk into
the mud and water. Away went the saddle-bags; the books and clothes were
wet, and the horse was fast. We got a pole under him to pry him out; at
the same time the horse made a leap and came out safe and sound.
The French have intermarried with these Indians. Since our visit we have
had, and still have, a mission among them and a little church. But we
have had no great success. The beads, crosses, etc., suit the Indians
best, for they strike their senses.
We crossed the St. Lawrence in romantic style. We hired four Indians to
paddle us over. They lashed three canoes together and put our horses in
them, their fore feet in one canoe, their hind feet in another. It was a
singular load: three canoes, three passengers, (the bishop, Bela Smith,
and myself,) three horses, and four Indians. They were to take us over
for three dollars. It was nearly three miles across to where we landed.
It was late in the afternoon when we started, and we were a long time
crossing, for some part was rough, especially the rapids, so we did not
reach the other side till late in the evening. Then the Indians claimed
an additional dollar. They said, “four men four dollar,” intimating that
three dollars could not be so easily divided among four. We cheerfully
paid the additional dollar, and were full of gratitude for our crossing
in safety. We might have shared the fate of Robert Hibbard, a preacher
in Canada, who was drowned October 10, 1812, in the St. Lawrence, in
crossing the ferry some distance below Montreal. His body was never found.
We arrived in Canada on July 1, 1811, landing at Cornwall, and about
midnight we reached the hospitable dwelling of Evan Roy, who hailed the
bishop’s arrival with joy, and gave him and his companions a welcome
worthy of patriarchal times.
We found it warm in Canada, and the bishop suffered greatly. Here Henry
Ryan, presiding elder of Upper Canada, met us. The next day Bishop Asbury
preached, and Brother Ryan and I exhorted.
The day after there was a love-feast, and the Lord’s supper was
administered, and the bishop preached. After meeting we rode up to the
banks of the river, dined at Stephen Bailey’s, and then went to Brother
Glassford’s. The bishop rode in Brother Glassford’s small close carriage,
which he called a “calash,” and he inquired how they were to get out if
they should upset. He had hardly asked the question before over went the
carriage, and again the venerable bishop was upset; but fortunately no
bones were broken; the saplings alongside of the road broke the fall, and
he escaped uninjured.
On Thursday, July 4, we heard the firing on the other side of the river,
celebrating the day. The war spirit was waking up in Canada as well as in
the United States, and the people there answered by firing popguns by way
of contempt. This woke up my patriotism, for I had always regarded the
Fourth of July as the birthday of liberty, the Sabbath day of freedom.
On Friday the bishop preached in Matilda Chapel, in what was called the
“German Settlement;” I followed him, preaching in German. We had a good
time, and from appearances good was done. The bishop was delighted with
the people. He wrote thus: “I was weak in body, yet greatly helped in
speaking. Here is a decent, loving people. My soul is much united to
them. I called upon Father Dulmage, and on Brother Hicks, a branch of an
old Irish stock of Methodists in New York.”
We tarried over night with David Breckenridge. He was a local deacon. He
married and baptized a great many people, and attended many funerals. In
1804 he preached the funeral sermon of Mrs. Heck, who died suddenly. She
is said to have been a most estimable woman. She was the wife of Paul
Heck, who was one of the first trustees of old John-street, and it is
said she claimed to be the woman who stirred up Philip Embury to preach
the Gospel.[37]
On Saturday we rode twelve miles before breakfast to Brother Boyce’s,
where we attended a quarterly meeting. The meeting was at Elizabethtown.
I preached at noon on 1 Peter iii, 12. William Mitchel and Bela Smith
exhorted. It was a time of power; many of God’s people rejoiced, and some
mourners found converting grace. On Sunday we had a glorious time in
love-feast and at the Lord’s supper. Bishop Asbury preached a thrilling
sermon from Titus ii, 11, 12.
This was about sixty miles from Cornwall. The bishop greatly admired the
country through which we rode. He says: “Our ride has brought us through
one of the finest countries I have ever seen. The timber is of a noble
size, the cattle are well shaped and well looking, the crops are abundant
on a most fruitful soil. Surely this is a land that God the Lord hath
blessed.”
This extract not only shows the estimate the bishop formed of that part
of Canada, but his habits of observation, extending not merely to the
inhabitants, but to the soil, the crops, the timber, the cattle, both to
their shape as well as size. The bishop passed through this world with
his eyes open.
On Monday we proceeded with Henry Ryan and E. Cooper, a young man from
Ireland, to Cannoughway Falls to Colonel Stone’s. Father Asbury was very
lame in his left foot with inflammatory rheumatism. He suffered like
a martyr. On Tuesday we reached Brother Elias Dulmage’s, a very kind
family, and Bishop Asbury preached in the first town church on Heb. x,
38, 39; Brother Cooper and I exhorted. The bishop was so poorly he could
not proceed on his journey, and was obliged to lie by and rest, that he
might be able to attend the Genesee Conference at Paris. He remained
at Brother Dulmage’s, where he found a very kind home, and I went with
Henry Ryan to his quarterly meeting in Fourth or Adolphus Town, by Bay
of Quinte. We dined at Father Miller’s, a native of Germany. On Friday
we rode to Brother John Embury’s, by Hay Bay. He was a nephew of Philip
Embury, the apostle of American Methodism. He was awakened at the age of
sixteen under his uncle’s preaching in New York. The next day, Saturday,
Ezekiel Cooper preached at eleven o’clock, and Henry Ryan and I exhorted.
On the Lord’s day we had a glorious love-feast, and at the Lord’s supper
Jesus was made known to us in the breaking of bread. In a beautiful
grove, under the shade of trees planted by God’s own hand, I preached
to two thousand people from Luke xix, 10, John Reynolds and Henry Ryan
exhorted. The sparks flew and the fire fell. Henry Ryan was from Ireland.
He was a powerful man in that day.
In order to get to the conference Brother Ryan and I were obliged, after
this day of toil, to ride all night to meet the bishop. About eleven
o’clock we reached Brother Miller’s, where we were refreshed. We slept
for a while, and when it was time to start I had hard work to awake
Brother Ryan, he was sleeping so soundly. At length he awoke, and we
started, and wended our way through the dark, and just as the morning
light made its appearance we reached Brother Dulmage’s. The distance we
rode that night was thirty-five miles.
To our great joy we found Father Asbury better. We found also that
notwithstanding his lameness and indisposition the ruling passion was
so strong that he could not keep quiet; but he had sent round and got a
congregation, to whom he preached in the chapel. He also met the society
and baptized two children.
We were in Canada just a fortnight, during which time we visited a
number of important places: Cornwall, Matilda, Augusta, Kingston, and
Elizabethtown. Everywhere the bishop was treated as the angel of the
Churches. I was also in Adolphustown, Hay Bay Shore, and Bay of Quinte.
In Adolphustown the first regularly organized class was formed in Canada,
and at Hay Bay the first Methodist church in Canada was erected.
The bishop preached six times in Canada, besides numerous lectures which
he delivered to societies.
Bela Smith piloted Mr. Asbury and myself in crossing Chateaugay woods
from Plattsburgh to St. Regis, and crossed with us into Canada. In the
woods there was a log across the road, and it was very muddy. I rolled
the log out of the road so we could pass. Bela Smith said, “I believe
you can do anything.” “O yes,” I said, “anything that is necessary to be
done.” Forty years afterward I met him in Forsyth-street Church at the
New York Conference, and I asked him if he remembered Chateaugay woods.
He said yes. And while we talked over the dangers we encountered in that
perilous journey, and the sacrifices of the past, a young man listened
to us, and with a significant look he tossed his head and said, “It is
all Greek to me.” I have no doubt but he would have thought so if he
had had as much difficulty in translating it as some of us had; but a
brighter day has dawned upon the Church, and I rejoice that the young men
are now called to make no such sacrifices, and to bear no such burdens.
Mr. Smith was an excellent man. After suffering much he died in holy
triumph, and was buried in Durham, N. Y. His excellent wife, whose name
was Merwin, a relative of Rev. Samuel Merwin, sleeps beside him. He had
two sons, Thomas B. and J. W., who have caught his falling mantle, and
are members of the New York Conference.
The bishop being anxious to get to the conference at Paris, left
Kingston on Monday to cross Lake Ontario for Sackett’s Harbor in an open
sail-boat, dignified by the name of “packet.” We commenced our voyage
with a very heavy head wind, and were obliged to beat all the way. We
could have crossed in a few hours if the wind had been fair. A tremendous
storm overtook us; the wind blew like a hurricane, and it was so dark
the captain did not know where he was. He intended to have anchored at
a harbor in Grenadier Island, but we passed it without knowing it. The
captain swore and cursed the wind when he found he could not reach the
island before dark, and then I thought we were in danger. A female
passenger reproved him, and inquired if he was not ashamed to swear so.
He made no reply, but he swore no more that night.
After we passed the island we looked back, and beheld a large raft with
a fire upon it. When we saw the light we hailed those on the raft, and
learned from them that we were near to some dangerous rocks. We should
no doubt have found a watery grave if we had not seen the light on that
raft. They had come to anchor in consequence of the storm.
We turned our old scow round and came to anchor alongside of the raft
on the north side of Fox Island, Henry Ryan and the rest of our company
left the vessel and went on to the island, where there was a house of
entertainment.
Bishop Asbury and I remained on the boat till morning. There was no
cabin; it was an open boat, and the wind was howling and the storm
beating upon us. In order to make the bishop as comfortable as possible
I made him a bed, covered him with the blankets we carried with us, and
fixed the canvas over him like a tent, to keep off the wind and the rain.
Then I laid down in the bottom of the boat, on some stones placed there
for ballast, which I covered with some hay I procured at Kingston for our
horses.
At midnight a sudden squall struck our frail bark; the canvas flapped
and awoke and alarmed the bishop. He cried out, “Henry, Henry, the horses
are going overboard.” I quieted his fears by telling him that all was
safe, that it was merely the flapping of the sail in the midnight winds.
He then lay down again and was quiet till morning. The reader will
remember that I had no sleep the night before, but traveled nearly forty
miles; and on the lake it was difficult to sleep under the circumstances
I have described. No shipwrecked mariner who had endured the darkness of
a stormy night on the ocean was ever more rejoiced to see the light of
the morning than ourselves. “Truly light is sweet, and a pleasant thing
it is to behold the sun.”
In the morning we went on to Fox Island and took our breakfast, which
tasted good, as we lay down the night before supperless. Then we set
sail for Sackett’s Harbor, and arrived there about two in the afternoon
in safety, after the perilous storm and tedious night, and we were never
more glad to set our feet on terra firma.
We dined at Sackett’s Harbor, and then set out in a thunder-shower toward
the seat of conference. It was singular to see the feeble old bishop, who
had such a rough passage across the lake, moving forward in a heavy rain,
amid lightning and thunder, showing that in his estimation “the king’s
business required haste.” In his journal he speaks of his sufferings:
“My foot swelled, and was very painful.” “I have passed a night in great
pain and disquietude.” Friday, “Sore, lame, and weary.”
On Friday we reached Paris, where we met with Bishop M’Kendree, and the
old veterans were overjoyed to meet each other. Bishop Asbury wrote: “My
spirit rejoiced with dear Bishop M’Kendree; he nursed me as if I had been
his own babe,” We were kindly entertained at Brother Elijah Davis’s.
It was a very pleasant and harmonious conference. On Thursday evening it
adjourned, to meet the next July at Niagara, Canada.
Loring Grant, who still lives, an old veteran, and Isaac Puffer, known as
chapter and verse, or as a traveling concordance, were ordained deacons.
The latter has fallen asleep. Charles Giles, George Harman, and others
were ordained elders. They elected their first delegates to General
Conference, William B. Lacy, Anning Owen, Timothy Lee, James Kelsey,
Elijah Batchelor, and William Snow. It is singular they did not send one
of their presiding elders, Gideon Draper, William Case, or Henry Ryan.
The next day Bishops Asbury and M’Kendree and myself set out for
Wilkesbarre, accompanied by Gideon Draper, who was then a young man.
Bishop Asbury carried his crutches with him, and his leg pained him so
we were obliged to stop at a house and get some vinegar with which to
alleviate his misery by bathing it.
We reached Kingston and put up with Elijah Shomakers. On Sunday morning
the Methodists in Kingston had a rich treat: Bishop Asbury preached a
sermon on the Pharisee and the publican in his own peculiar style; Bishop
M’Kendree preached immediately after from 1 Cor. i, 23, 24, on preaching
Christ crucified, and the effects of such preaching upon different
hearers. At five o’clock Bishop Asbury preached at Wilkesbarre from 2
Cor. vi, 1, 2, “We then as workers together,” etc.
Bishop Asbury thus notices the labors of this Sabbath: “Sabbath, August
4, 1811.—Preached in the Methodistico-Presbyterian Church at Kingston.
It was a time of freedom, and words were given me to speak, which were
felt by preachers and people. I preached at Wilkesbarre and had a liberal
season.” We were invited to Judge Fell’s, and were treated kindly.
On Friday, after intense suffering on the part of Bishop Asbury, we
reached my father’s. No wonder the bishop wrote: “My flesh is ready to
think it something for a man of sixty-six, with a highly inflamed and
painful foot, to ride nearly four hundred miles on a stumbling, starting
horse, slipping or blundering over desperate roads, from Paris to this
place, in twelve days.”
We tarried here longer than usual, from the 9th to the 20th. Thus I had
a fine opportunity for a final visit with my much loved father. On Sunday
Bishop Asbury preached at Boehm’s Chapel from Rom. viii, 11-18. It was
the last time my father ever heard Bishop Asbury preach. I preached in
the afternoon from 1 John i, 9; the last time my father ever heard his
son Henry.
CHAPTER XXX.
FOURTH WESTERN AND SOUTHERN TOUR—CONFERENCES OF 1811.
On Tuesday, August 20, we took out solemn leave of my dear aged parents
and friends. O how my heart was pierced with hearing my father say, as
the tears ran down his furrowed cheeks, “We shall not see each other
again.” How I gazed upon his patriarchal form, and wept as he embraced
me, when I thought those arms will embrace me no more. Bishop Asbury
said, “We hope to meet in glory.” This was a word in season, and proved
a cordial to my soul. My father’s words were prophetic. Before we came
round again the sun shone on his grave, and his spirit had returned to
God.
We started West, and the tour was full of incident. We crossed again
the rugged Alleghanies, and spent a Sabbath in Pittsburgh. We attended
several camp-meetings. The first was in Ohio, fourteen miles above
Zanesville, beginning on September 2. Bishops Asbury and M’Kendree
preached, and some others. There were thirteen hundred people, and a
number were converted. The second camp-meeting we attended was on the
15th, one mile from Xenia. Bishop Asbury preached on Sunday, and after
half an hour’s intermission Bishop M’Kendree followed.
On the 21st we visited Rev. Philip Gatch. I wrote: “But dear Mother Gatch
is gone to a better country, that is, a heavenly.” She was a blessed
woman.
On Friday we reached Cincinnati, where we spent three Sabbaths, and
stopped at Oliver M. Spencer’s. On Sunday the 29th Bishop Asbury and
Learner Blackman preached.
On Tuesday, October 1, the Western Conference commenced its session.
There was much weighty and critical business, but it was attended to
with order, dispatch, and good feeling. On Sunday, October 6, Bishops
Asbury and M’Kendree again preached. The conference lasted ten days, and
one hundred ministers were appointed to fields of labor. The work was so
widening and spreading that there were not workmen enough to supply the
work: twenty-two additional laborers were needed. The following Sabbath
the bishop delivered what he called “a farewell warning to preachers;”
after which he met the society and then visited the sick.
At this session they made their first election of delegates to the
General Conference. Learner Blackman, who was very popular, headed the
list. He was brother-in-law of John Collins. I had known him since 1800,
and was present when he was received at the Philadelphia Conference that
year. He traveled with Bishop Asbury and myself many hundred miles on
his way to General Conference. He met with a sad end. He was drowned in
the Ohio in crossing a ferry in 1815. The other delegates were Benjamin
Lakin, James Quinn, Frederick Stier, John Sale, William Pattison, Isaac
Quinn, William Houston, John Collins, Samuel Parker, James Axley, David
Young, Thomas Stilwell.
On October 14 we started for the South Carolina Conference. We passed
through Kentucky, everywhere preaching the word. The bishop wrote, “What
a field is opened and opening daily in this new world!”
I will give a specimen of the lights and shadows of the itinerancy.
Friday, about half an hour after dark, we came to Rock Castle Bridge,
and wished for entertainment over night. The answer was, “All full.” The
bishop, sick and feeble as he was, and I, had to grope our way seven
miles before there was another place at which we could put up. We both
rejoiced when we reached, as we supposed, the end of our journey for
that toilsome day. We inquired if they could entertain us. The answer
was, “No admittance.” On we went a mile further, and wished to tarry
over night. The answer was, “No room.” We began to despair. The hour was
late. Then we came across a person who kindly conducted us through the
dark woods amid stumps and stones for several miles to the house of a
kind friend, who exhibited a hospitality worthy of patriarchal times.
We rode forty-seven miles that day. It was eleven at night when we
arrived. We had had no dinner or supper, so they gave us a delicious meal
that answered for both. This was at Waynesborough, and the family that
so kindly entertained us was Colonel Milton’s. We did not retire till
midnight, and next morning at five o’clock we were again on our journey,
and traveled on till on Friday, the 8th, we reached Athens, Ga., where we
were kindly received by Hope Hull. On Tuesday Bishop Asbury preached at
Bethel Chapel, and Hope Hull and I exhorted.
HOPE HULL was born on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. His name is one that
will long live in the annals of Methodism as one of the pioneers of our
Church in New England and the South. He had a fine intellectual face, and
features that expressed determination. His hair, originally black, was
then sprinkled with gray. He had a melodious voice, was a very superior
preacher, and in eloquence few equaled him. In 1794 he traveled with
Bishop Asbury, who greatly admired him as a man, as a preacher, and as an
orator. He was a pioneer in the cause of education. He resided in Athens,
Ga., and had much to do with the origin and prosperity of the University
of Georgia, and was for a time president.
He was born in 1763, entered the traveling ministry in 1785, and died
October 4, 1818. One inquired concerning his spiritual state when he was
dying. He heroically replied, “God has laid me under marching orders, and
I am ready to obey.”
Everywhere in the South the bishop’s visit was hailed with joy, and he
preached almost every day.
The bishop and I went to Savannah and Augusta, and I preached in both
places. I preached in German as well as English. Here I saw peach-trees
in bloom, a great curiosity for December.
On the morning of December 16, about three o’clock, the house where we
were was awfully shaken by an earthquake. This was repeated at eight
o’clock as we were at our family devotions. Many people were much
alarmed. The shock was felt very seriously in Columbia, so that some of
the citizens ran out into the streets, supposing the houses would fall
down.
We arrived at Camden, the seat of the conference, and were entertained
by Samuel Mathis. The conference commenced on the twenty-first. Bishops
Asbury and M’Kendree were present, and we had good tidings from almost
every part of the work.
On Sunday morning Bishop M’Kendree preached from John iii, 18, 19, “He
that believeth on him is not condemned,” etc. In the afternoon Bishop
Asbury preached from 2 Chron. xiv, 7. On Thursday morning Learner
Blackman preached from James v, 16. On Friday evening the conference
adjourned. Such peace and love I have hardly ever seen in any conference.
A goodly number were converted during the session.
There was a great increase during the year—three thousand three hundred
and eighty. The bishops were in fine spirits, full of hope in regard
to the future. Twelve were received into full connection and ordained
deacons. They elected the following to the first delegated General
Conference: Lewis Myers, Lovick Pierce, Joseph Tarpley, Daniel Asbury,
William M. Kennedy, Samuel Dunwoody, James E. Glenn, Hilliard Judge, and
Joseph Travis.
Leaving Camden we went to Charleston, thence to Georgetown, where we
stopped with William Wayne, nephew of General Anthony Wayne. He was
born in Wilmington in 1736. He was awakened by reading the writings
of John Wesley, and was converted in his forty-seventh year under a
sermon preached by Bishop Asbury in Georgetown. He and his wife joined
in August, 1784, and this was the nucleus of the Methodist society in
Georgetown.
The Virginia Conference was held in Richmond on February 20, 1812. This
was the first time the conference had been held at the capital. On
Sunday Bishop M’Kendree preached in the morning, and Dr. Jennings in
the afternoon. On Wednesday Bishop Asbury preached from 2 Tim. ii, 1-7,
on the faithfulness of ministers, their ability, their disentanglement
from the world, their power of endurance, and their reward. Afterward
he ordained the elders, and while he was performing the office in
his solemn and impressive manner the work of revival broke out in the
gallery, and quite a number were converted. I never before witnessed
just such a scene in conference. I wrote: “O my soul, never forget the
blessing received on this occasion.”
The conference made its first election for delegates to the General
Conference, choosing Jesse Lee, Philip Bruce, John Buxton, Thomas L.
Douglass, James Boyd, Richard Lattimore, Charles Callaway, C. H. Hines,
William Jean, and John Early.
While at Richmond I visited the ruins of the theater that was burned the
night of December 11, 1811. Just before the conclusion of the play the
scenery caught fire, and the whole building was almost instantly wrapped
in flames. I saw the staircase where the people crowded down the steps
to escape, and falling one upon another, perished in a heap. There was a
general gloom in the city, and the people were clad in mourning.
On the site of the theater they erected a house of worship, which they
called “Monumental Church.” Indeed it was a monument of one of the
saddest events that has occurred on our continent. It was an Episcopal
church, and Bishop Moore was the rector. The remains of the unfortunate
victims who perished were deposited in a marble urn, which stands in the
front portico of the church, and therefore its name.
In the interval between the session of the Virginia and Baltimore
Conferences, the bishop made a tour through the most interesting part
of old Virginia. We went to James City, and he preached there; then to
Williamsburgh, and on the 3d of March he preached in the venerable old
State-house or capitol, in the afternoon, to a crowded audience; and I
had the honor of holding forth in the evening from Heb. ii, 3, “How shall
we escape,” etc. We lodged at Brother Ratcliff’s. This was the capital of
Virginia before Richmond, and it is the oldest incorporated town in the
state.
The old walls of the State-house in which we preached had echoed with the
eloquence of Virginia’s greatest men. Here Patrick Henry made his first
grand speech; and in this old house Henry exclaimed, in tones of thunder,
“Cesar had his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell, and George the
Third—” (“Treason!” cried the Speaker; “treason, treason!” echoed from
every part of the house)—Henry exclaimed, “may profit by his example.
If _this_ be treason, make the most of it.” It was in this edifice they
returned thanks to George Washington for his services in the French and
Indian war, and he rose to reply, and was so embarrassed he could say
nothing; then the Speaker, Robinson, said, “Sit down, Mr. Washington;
your modesty is equal to your valor, and that surpasses the power of any
language that I possess.”
We then went to Elizabeth City County and preached at Hampton, the county
seat, ninety-six miles from Richmond. Hampton is distinguished for its
antiquity; its site was visited by Captain John Smith previous to the
settlement in Jamestown. Old Point Comfort, on which Fortress Monroe
stands, is two miles and a half from Hampton.
The bishop preached every day, going miles out of our direct route,
visiting and confirming the Churches during the interval between the
Virginia and Baltimore Conferences.
On Friday, March 20, the Baltimore Conference commenced its session in
Leesburgh, Virginia. There were twelve ordained deacons, among others
Beverly Waugh, afterward book agent, then bishop; Joseph Frye, of blessed
memory, and James M. Hanson. They also elected their delegates to the
first delegated conference, fifteen in number: Nelson Reed, Joseph
Toy, Joshua Wells, Nicholas Snethen, Enoch George, Asa Shinn, Hamilton
Jefferson, Jacob Gruber, Robert R. Roberts, William Ryland, Christopher
Frye, James Smith, Robert Burch, Henry Smith, Andrew Hemphill. These were
all men of mark; two afterward became bishops.
On Sabbath both Bishops Asbury and M’Kendree preached. Bishop Asbury
ordained the deacons on Sunday, and the elders were ordained the next
Wednesday, after an able sermon from Nicholas Snethen.
CHAPTER XXXI.
DEATH, FUNERAL, AND CHARACTER OF REV. MARTIN BOEHM.
A short time before the conference closed at Leesburgh Bishop Asbury
said to me, “Henry, as soon as conference adjourns you must have the
horses ready and we must go right to your father’s.” I reminded him of
appointments he had sent on to Baltimore and through the eastern shore
of Maryland. He said, “Never mind, we can get them filled; I tell you we
must go right to your father’s.” We were then one hundred miles distant.
The reason of the sudden change in his plans I believed to be, the bishop
had a presentiment or an impression that my father was dead. How else
could we account for his abandoning a long list of appointments, changing
his entire route, and hastening on to my father’s?
When we reached Samuel Brinkley’s, who lived about a mile from our old
homestead, the mystery was solved; there we heard my father was dead. The
aged Asbury wept, and I felt sad at the thought I should see him no more.
I learned that he was taken sick the 17th of March, and on Monday the 23d
he departed this life in great peace and triumph, so his mournful words
proved true that “we should never see each other again.”
The bishop makes this record: “Friday, a cold disagreeable ride brought
us across the country to Samuel Brinkley’s; here I received the first
intelligence of the death of my dear old friend, Martin Boehm.”
The next day, Saturday, we passed by his new-made grave to the old
homestead, where I found my mother in all the sorrows of widowhood. The
bishop writes thus: “Sabbath, April 5, I preached at Boehm’s Chapel
the funeral sermon of Martin Boehm, and gave my audience some very
interesting particulars of his life.” His text was, “Behold an Israelite
indeed, in whom there is no guile.” Immense was the crowd; and the
occasion was one of mournful interest. The bishop drew the character of
his lifetime friend with great exactness, and also that of many of his
cotemporaries, particularly William Otterbein.
“Martin Boehm,” he said, “was plain in dress and manners. When age had
stamped its impress of reverence upon him he filled the mind with the
noble idea of a patriarch. At the head of a family, a father, a neighbor,
a friend, a companion, the prominent feature of his character was
goodness; you felt that he was good. His mind was strong, and well stored
with the learning necessary for one whose aim is to preach Christ with
apostolic zeal and simplicity.
“Martin Boehm had frequent and severe conflicts in his own mind, produced
by the necessity he felt himself under of offending his Mennonist
brethren by the zeal and doctrines of his ministry. Some he gained, but
most of them opposed him. He had difficulties also with ‘The United
Brethren.’ It was late in life that he joined the Methodists, to whom
long before his wife and children had attached themselves. The head of
the house had two societies to pass through to arrive at the Methodists,
and his meek and quiet spirit kept him back.
“In his ministry he did not make the Gospel a charge to any one; his
reward was souls and glory.
“The virtue of hospitality was practiced by his family as a matter of
course, and in following the impulses of their own generous natures the
members of his household obeyed the oft-repeated charge of their head to
open his doors to the homeless, that the weary might be solaced and the
hungry fed. And what a family was here presented to an observant visitor!
Here was order, quiet, occupation. The father, if not absent on a journey
of five hundred miles in cold, hunger, and privation, proclaiming the
glad tidings of salvation to his dispersed German brethren, might, by his
conduct under his own roof, explain to a careful looker on the secret
of a parent’s success in rearing a family to the duties of piety, to
the diligent and useful occupation of time, and to the uninterrupted
exhibition of reflected and reciprocal love, esteem, and kindness in word
and deed.
“If it is true, as generally believed, that the mother does much toward
forming the character of her children, it will be readily allowed that
Martin Boehm had an able help-meet in his pious wife. The offspring of
this noble pair have done them honor. The son Jacob, immediately upon
his marriage, took upon himself the management of the farm, that his
excellent father might, ‘without carefulness,’ extend his labors more far
and wide.
“A younger son, Henry, is a useful minister of the Methodist connection,
having the advantage of being able to preach in English and German. We
are willing to hope that the children of Martin Boehm, and his children’s
children to the third, fourth, and last generations, will have cause
to thank God that his house for fifty years has been a house for the
welcome reception of Gospel ministers, and one in which the worship of
God has been uninterruptedly preserved and practiced. O ye children and
grandchildren! O rising generation, who have so often heard the prayers
of this man of God in the houses of your fathers! O ye Germans to whom
he has long preached the word of truth! Martin Boehm being dead yet
speaketh. O hear his voice from the grave exhorting you to repent, to
believe, to obey!”[38]
After the bishop had finished his impressive discourse, which was
listened to with tears and sighs by a numerous auditory, he called on me
to speak. I endeavored to do so, but when I stood in the pulpit where I
had so often beheld my father, in the church that bore his name, with my
venerable mother before me, tottering over the grave, my relatives all
around me, where I could look out of the window into the burying-ground
and see the new-made grave of my father, my eyes filled with tears, and I
was so overcome that I could only utter, “Let silence speak.”
The people were deeply affected all over the house. There was weeping
from many eyes. My father was greatly beloved in life, and deeply
lamented in death. I had heard the venerable Asbury often when he was
great, and he was peculiarly great on funeral occasions, but then he far
transcended himself.
He called upon Thomas Ware to make some observations. He had long known
and loved my father, and his remarks were very touching and appropriate.
The bishop then called upon Abram Keaggy, who had married my sister; but
his feelings overcame him, and he sat down and wept, and thus we all wept
together.[39] A spectator might have said, “Behold how they loved him.”
My father was in his eighty-seventh year when he died, and had preached
the Gospel fifty-five years.
It is a matter of deep regret that I am under the necessity of noticing
a grave attack upon the character of my father and of the Methodist
Episcopal Church, made by the historians of the “United Brethren in
Christ.”[40]
The attack was first made thirty-nine years after my father was in the
grave, and was repeated eleven years later. So half a century after my
father’s death I, an old man in my ninety-first year, am obliged to
vindicate his character from those who profess to revere his memory,
who eulogize him, who place him next to the great Otterbein. Beautiful
garlands they bring with which to adorn their victim. These historians
say:
In justice to his memory, to the Church in whose origin he was so
intimately concerned, and to the truth of history, we must pause at
the grave of this venerable patriarch to review an account of William
Otterbein and Martin Boehm, which first appeared in the Methodist
Magazine, volume vi, pp. 210-249. The sketch purports to have been
furnished to Bishop Asbury a short time previous to his death, by his
friend, F. Hollingsworth, the transcriber of the bishop’s journal; it has
also been embodied in the history of the Methodist Episcopal Church, by
Dr. Bangs, and may be found in volume ii, pp. 365-376. Here is the matter
referred to:
“Martin Boehm, of whom we desire to speak, was born in November,
1725. As a professor of religion and minister of Christ, the
labors and experience of his life may be pretty justly estimated
by what we learn from himself, communicated in answers to certain
questions propounded to him by his son Jacob, which we transcribe.
“_Ques._ Father, when were you put into the ministry?
“_Ans._ My ministerial labors began about the year 1756. Three
years afterward, by nomination to the lot, I received full
pastoral orders.
“_Q._ What was your religious experience during that time?
“_A._ I was sincere and strict in the religious duties of prayer
in my family, in the congregation, and in the closet. I lived and
preached according to the light I had: I was a servant and not a
son; nor did I know any one, at that time, who would claim the
birthright by adoption but Nancy Keaggy, my mother’s sister; she
was a woman of great piety and singular devotion to God.
“_Q._ By what means did you discover the nature and necessity of
a real change of heart?
“_A._ By deep meditation upon the doctrine which I myself
preached, of the fall of man, his sinful estate, and utter
helplessness; I discovered and felt the want of Christ within,
etc., etc.
“_Q._ Were your labors owned of the Lord in the awakening and
conversion of souls?
“_A._ Yes; many were brought to the knowledge of the truth. But
it was a strange work; and some of the Mennonist meeting-houses
were closed against me. Nevertheless, I was received in other
places. I now preached the Gospel spiritually and powerfully.
Some years afterward I was excommunicated from the Mennonist
church, on a charge truly enough advanced, of holding fellowship
with other societies of a different language. I had invited the
Methodists to my house, and they soon formed the society in my
neighborhood, which exists to this day. My beloved wife, Eve, my
children, and my cousin Keaggy’s family, were among the first of
its members. For myself, I felt my heart more greatly enlarged
toward all religious persons and all denominations of Christians.
Upward of thirty years ago I became acquainted with my greatly
beloved brother, William Otterbein, and several other ministers,
who about this time had been ejected from their churches as I
had been from mine, because of their zeal, which was looked upon
as an irregularity. We held many large meetings in Pennsylvania,
Maryland, and New Virginia, which generally lasted three days. At
these meetings hundreds were made the subjects of penitence and
pardon. Being convinced of the necessity of order and discipline
in the Church of God, and having no wish to be at the head of a
separate body, I advised serious persons to join the Methodists,
whose doctrine, discipline, and zeal suited, as I thought, an
unlearned, sincere, and simple-hearted people. Several of the
ministers with whom I labored continued to meet in a conference
of the German United Brethren; but we felt difficulties arising
from the want of that which the Methodists possessed. Age having
overtaken me with some of its accompanying infirmities, I could
not travel as I had formerly done. In 1802 I enrolled my name
on a Methodist class-book, and I have found great comfort in
meeting with my brethren. I can truly say my last days are my
best days. My beloved Eve is traveling with me the same road,
Zionward; my children, and most of my grandchildren, are made the
partakers of the same grace. I am, this 12th of April, 1811, in
my eighty-sixth year. Through the boundless goodness of God I am
still able to visit the sick, and occasionally to preach in the
neighborhood: to His name be all the glory in Christ Jesus.”
After giving this quotation, Mr. Spayth observes:
The first remark we make on the foregoing is that, as Father
Boehm spoke but little English at best, the foregoing questions
and answers were neither written or spoken by him in English. It
is true that he went to Virginia in 1761, but not as Jacob would
have it understood, before he had experienced a change of heart,
_but after that event_. As to the statement we have given of the
cause of his going to Virginia, we are safe to vouchsafe for its
correctness, for we had it _from his own lips_. For some reason,
or by some means, the statement given by Jacob may be warped in
the English version.
The second exception we take is to the idea conveyed in the
statement that his name was enrolled on a Methodist class-book
in 1802. That his name was placed on the class-book referred to
is true, but the circumstances were as follows: A meeting-house
had been built on his land principally by his aid and that of his
German brethren. At this meeting-house the Methodists had formed
a class previous to the year 1802, under the liberal construction
of their rules, and hence with the free assent of Bother Boehm;
but this liberality was some time after withdrawn, and the
restrictive rule relating to class-meetings and love-feasts was
insisted on, and even the venerable Boehm was not excepted. Here
was a dilemma. To admit Brother Boehm, the preachers said, was
in violation of an express disciplinary rule, and to deny him
the privilege in his own meeting-house was hard; but the law is
imperative and binding. Now comes the gist of the matter. Brother
Boehm was entreated, _for form’s sake_, at least, to allow his
name to go on the class, nominally, as a private member, and all
would be right. To this, for peace’s sake, he consented, and
nothing more.
How far the law of kindness, of Christian friendship, and
hospitality, and of pure love had to stand aside in this case we
leave to every one to say. As it was it did not give the Brethren
a moment’s concern, nor would we here have taken any notice of
it at all had not the Methodist historian made it a subject of
record. In concluding this topic we remark that Brother Boehm’s
relation to the Brethren Church was unbroken from first to last,
as has already been seen.
This our annual conference proceedings sufficiently show. Thus
in 1800, in connection with Otterbein, he was elected bishop. He
was prevented by sickness from attending the conference of 1801;
attended conference in Maryland in 1802, was re-elected bishop
in 1805, and attended the conference of 1809, which was the last
this devoted servant of the Lord enjoyed with his brethren in
the Church on earth. From this time to the time of his death,
great age, with its accompanying infirmities, prevented him from
attending an annual conference.
It is a duty I owe to my venerated father, to the memory of Bishop
Asbury, and to the ministers that were in charge of the Church at Boehm’s
Chapel in 1802, that I should correct the misrepresentations contained in
the history of the “United Brethren in Christ.”
There was a mistake in the account in the Methodist Magazine, and copied
in Bangs’s history and the “History of the United Brethren.” It says the
questions were asked by Martin Boehm’s son Jacob. It should have been
Henry. I asked the questions, and wrote the answers. This was fifty-three
years ago last March. I have the original copy with my father’s
signature, and the reader can see a fac-simile of his autograph. I asked
the questions, and took down the answers at the request of Bishop Asbury,
who wished the history of my father. The bishop had taken down from the
lips of Otterbein the answers giving his history. It was at my father’s
house where the questions were asked and the answers given. To the
animadversions that have been made to my statement I make the following
replies: 1. It is objected that my father did not understand English,
and that he wrote neither the questions nor answers. He did understand
English very well. He conversed very readily in English, and had quite a
library of English works, which he read with great pleasure and profit;
among others, Wesley’s Sermons and Fletcher’s Checks. These were great
favorites with him.
As my father was aged and infirm I wrote the questions and answers. He
fully understood them both, and it was voluntary on his part, and not the
least influence was exerted over him. I carefully wrote every word of the
answers from his mouth, and then read them over to him, and he pronounced
them correct, and then deliberately affixed his signature to them. My
father was not one who would sign a document when he was ignorant of its
contents, or that he knew to be untrue.
At that time neither Bishop Asbury or myself supposed it would ever be
a matter of controversy. It was not obtained for any such object, or
to prove my father was a Methodist, but simply to obtain his history
correctly.
2. Another error is this: that his son had warped the statement. This
is both uncharitable and unjust. It was not enough to hint that I took
advantage of my father’s ignorance of the English language, but now I am
accused of warping what he said. I would as soon have cut off my right
hand. If I had been guilty of an act so mean, so unjust to my father,
and so false to others, I should have despised myself all the rest of my
life. The insinuation has not the semblance of truth. Those answers were
not warped; there was no false coloring, but sober truth. I took them
down from his lips as he answered in honest simplicity, and in the same
spirit I wrote them down.
3. This historian speaks of Boehm’s Chapel being built on Martin Boehm’s
land, principally by him and his German brethren, and then the Methodists
denying him the privilege of his own meeting-house, etc. Now all this
is a mistake. It was not built upon my father’s land, but upon that of
my brother Jacob, who gave the site for the church. Nor was it built
principally by my father and “the German Brethren.” I suppose he means
by this the United Brethren. As a body they had nothing to do with it.
My father gave something, and so might some of them; but it was built
for the Methodists, and principally by the Methodists. It was not my
father’s church any more than it was mine, and it is sheer nonsense to
talk of the cruelty of shutting him out of his own church. No such thing
ever did or could take place, simply from the fact that he never owned
any church, and therefore the thing was impossible. It was built for a
Methodist church, the plan was furnished by a Methodist minister, and it
was deeded to the Methodist Episcopal Church. After the lapse of seventy
years it is still a Methodist Episcopal Church, and their ministers still
preach in it.
4. Another error is accusing the Methodists at Boehm’s Chapel of double
dealing. In the first place “forming a class under a liberal construction
of their rules,” so that Father Boehm, not a member, could attend a
class, and then “withdrawing such liberal construction,” and bringing it
to bear on Father Boehm, so he was excluded from the class-meeting and
love-feast. Any one acquainted with the Methodist Discipline knows that
no such thing could take place. No individual Methodist society makes
and unmakes terms of membership. We have a Discipline, and the terms
are fixed by the General Conference. We are not independent bodies to
make rules for ourselves. Furthermore, I was there at the time, and know
that no such thing ever took place. William Hunter then had charge of
the circuit, an honest man as ever came from the land of Erin. He was an
outspoken man, open as the light of day, and incapable of duplicity.
But to “the gist of the matter.” Father Boehm, says this writer, was
entreated, “for form’s sake,” to have his name go on to the class-book
nominally. So, according to this statement, he never joined the
Methodists, he was only a “nominal member.” Here the Methodists are
accused of deception, and my aged father of complicity with them: they
pretending that he was a member, and he allowing his name to be entered
as a member, all the while knowing that he was not one. My father would
never have stooped to such meanness. He did not consider himself a
nominal, but a real member of the Methodist Church. He was not only a
member of the class, and used to meet in it, but he was a member of the
Quarterly Conference; he used to meet and take a part there, by virtue of
his office, as a local preacher of the Methodist Episcopal Church. He was
an ordained minister and used to administer the ordinances, Baptism and
the Lord’s Supper.
But it is said “he was entreated to do this for peace’ sake.” For whose
peace? My father was not so easily persuaded to do a wrong action for the
sake of peace. He always preferred purity to peace: “First pure, then
peaceable.”
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE UNITED BRETHREN IN CHRIST—SKETCH OF OTTERBEIN, ETC.
“The United Brethren in Christ” have often been confounded with the
Moravians. They had gone by the name of “United Brethren” ever since Mr.
Otterbein took my father in his arms and exclaimed, “We are brethren;”
and at the conference in 1800 they added the words, “in Christ.”
There was a great effort made to unite the Methodists and the United
Brethren, who were often called “German Methodists.” The Baltimore and
Philadelphia Conferences not only corresponded with them, but delegates
from both Churches were ordered to devise a plan of union. This was kept
up for years. In 1813 William Hunter and myself were appointed delegates
to them. This was the last of fraternal letters or fraternal delegates.
Terms of union were agreed upon, and it promised well for a time, but
before long there was dissatisfaction on both sides. So the United
Brethren took their course and we ours, each doing our own work in our
own way.
The United Brethren had class-meetings, but did not, like the Methodists,
make them a test of membership. They had love-feasts also, but lacked
discipline. William Otterbein recommended their adopting the Methodist
discipline. They had at that time no regular organization, but were
composed of persons belonging to different denominations. They recorded
the name of their ministers but not of the membership. At their
conference in 1802 a proposal to record the names of members as well as
ministers was voted down. When they began to “number Israel” I cannot say.
In their Minutes for 1800 they named Henry Boehm one of their ministers;
but I did not belong to them, and at that time had no license to preach.
It was not till 1815 they had a regular discipline. Their doctrines are
the same as the Methodists’, but they differ in practice. They wash each
other’s feet; they are opposed to masonry and all secret societies; they
always abominated slavery and would never tolerate it. They have bishops,
Annual and General Conferences, traveling and local preachers. They have
a large publishing house in Dayton, Ohio, and print two newspapers,
one in German, the other in English. At their General Conference in
May, 1861, they reported 5,166 preaching places, 3,900 classes, 94,443
members, 499 itinerant and 417 local preachers, and 15,130 Sabbath
scholars.
REV. WILLIAM P. OTTERBEIN.
The relation of Mr. Otterbein to Bishop Asbury and my father was such as
to require more than a passing notice. They were united by a threefold
cord stronger than death, and lasting as their existence. They never met
without complying with the apostolic injunction: “Salute one another with
a holy kiss.”
Mr. Otterbein was one of the fathers of the “United Brethren in Christ.”
He assisted in ordaining Francis Asbury bishop, and was ever a friend of
the Methodists. There are but few living who knew him. I heard him preach
frequently, have seen him at my father’s and at great meetings, have been
his guest, and preached for him in Baltimore.
He was born in Nassau, Prussia, June 4, 1726. His education was of a
superior order. In 1752 he emigrated to this country, and settled in
Lancaster. Mr. Asbury and he became acquainted through Benjamin Swope,
one of the German preachers, the year the apostle of Methodism came
to America. Mr. Asbury wrote to Mr. Otterbein urging him to come to
Baltimore, and he did so in 1774, and organized the “Evangelical Reformed
Church” out of the ruins of another completely demoralized.
In sentiment they were like the Methodists, and somewhat in practice.
Their constitution read thus: “No preacher can stay among us who teacheth
the doctrines of predestination or the impossibility of falling from
grace, or who holdeth them as doctrinal points.” They were genuine
Arminians. No preacher could remain who did not strictly attend
class-meetings.
Mr. Otterbein’s church was built on Howard’s Hill. My father and he first
met at Isaac Long’s, a few miles from Lancaster. Various denominations
had been invited to meet there, and my father preached the first sermon,
which was attended with peculiar unction, and when he had finished, Mr.
Otterbein arose and encircled him in his arms, and exclaimed, “We are
brethren.” Shout after shout went up, and tears flowed freely from many
eyes, the scene was so pentecostal. Such was the origin of the United
Brethren. Mr. Otterbein used to itinerate, and hold great union meetings
generally in groves, barns, or church-yards, for houses of worship were
generally closed against him.
I first saw Mr. Otterbein and heard him preach in 1798. It was at my
father’s, where a three days’ meeting was held. I heard him in 1800 at
their conference, from Rev. iii, 7. It was a masterly sermon, and the
effect was overwhelming. His sermons were scripturally rich, and were
delivered with unusual energy. He was a great expounder of the word,
giving the meaning of the inspired writer. His voice had lost its musical
notes, and was harsh and husky.
Bishop Asbury speaks of him as the “great Otterbein.” There was no man
for whom he had a higher regard, none whose death he lamented more
deeply. In person he was tall, being six feet high, with a noble frame
and a commanding appearance. He had a thoughtful, open countenance, full
of benignity, a dark-bluish eye that was very expressive. In reading
the lessons he used spectacles, which he would take off and hold in his
left hand while speaking. He had a high forehead, a double chin, with a
beautiful dimple in the center. His locks were gray, his dress parsonic.
He married the sister of the distinguished Dr. Handall, a man of profound
learning and deep piety.
I was at his house the last evening Mr. Asbury and he ever spent
together. This was April 22, 1813. The bishop says, “I gave an evening to
the great Otterbein.” Mr. Otterbein was one year younger than my father,
and nineteen years older than Mr. Asbury. Mr. Otterbein was useful in
life, and triumphant in death. His last words were, “The conflict is
over; lay me down upon the pillow, and be still.” His friends complied
with his request. During that stillness angels whispered, “Sister spirit,
come away.” Gladly he obeyed the summons, and entered into the joy of his
Lord.
On Thursday, April 24, 1814, in Mr. Otterbein’s chapel, Bishop Asbury
preached his funeral discourse. He says, “Solemnity marked the silent
meeting in the German church, where were assembled the members of our
conference, and many of the clergy of the city. Forty years have I known
this retiring, modest man of God, towering majestically above his fellows
in learning, wisdom, and grace, yet seeking to be known only of God and
the people of God. He had been sixty years a minister, fifty years a
converted one.” He was buried in the ground connected with his church.
I knew others of the fathers of the United Brethren Church. George Adam
Guething was the most eloquent. He was truly an Apollos. He was born in
Germany, and emigrated to this country when he was seventeen. He taught
school in winter, and quarried stone and dug wells in summer. He became
a splendid preacher. I heard him at my father’s, and at other places. In
1800 I was his guest with my father. He lived in Washington County, Md.
Over sixty years ago I heard him preach from Jer. xvii, 7, 8, “Blessed
is the man that trusteth in the Lord,” etc. This beautiful text, which
reminds us of the first psalm, just suited the genius of Guething, who
preached a sermon of rare beauty and excellence. He was the spiritual
father of the Rev. Henry Smith, late of the Baltimore Conference, who
was converted under a powerful sermon which he preached at Antietam. Mr.
Guething died in 1812, the same year as my father. He made a visit to
Father Otterbein, was taken sick, started for home, and died before he
reached it. His death was one of exceeding triumph. He was very quiet
for a while, when he suddenly exclaimed, “I feel as though my end had
come. Hark! hark! who spoke? whose voice is that I hear? Light, light,
what golden light! Now all is dark again. Please help me out of bed.” He
said, “Let us sing, ‘Come, thou long-expected moment,’” etc. He knelt
and offered prayer. He was helped into bed, folded his hands across his
bosom, and in fifteen minutes the angel of death had done his work. Thus
triumphantly died my father’s friend, the most splendid orator among the
United Brethren in Christ, aged seventy-two years, of which he had spent
forty in the ministry.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
PHILADELPHIA AND GENERAL CONFERENCE OF 1812.
I will now resume my narrative. Notwithstanding the recent death of my
father, and the loneliness of my widowed mother, three days was all the
time we could spend at the old homestead after months of absence. As for
rest we knew not what it meant, unless it was on horseback. Mr. Asbury
acted as if a voice was ringing in his ear, constantly saying, “Arise ye
and depart, for this is not your rest.” His motto was, “Labor here, rest
hereafter.”
The next Sabbath Mr. Asbury preached near Valley Forge at Isaac
Anderson’s, Esq. He had been a Methodist for over thirty years, was
several times a member of the State Legislature, and was honored with a
seat in Congress.
The Philadelphia Conference began on Saturday, April 18. Bishop Asbury,
feeble as he was, preached four times during the session, namely, at St.
George’s, St. Thomas’s, Union Chapel, and Ebenezer. The deacons were
ordained on Wednesday, and the elders on Thursday by Bishop Asbury,
Bishop M’Kendree being sick.
This was the first time this conference elected delegates to the General
Conference. They sent fourteen: Ezekiel Cooper, John M’Claskey, Thomas
F. Sargent, Stephen G. Roszel, Thomas Ware, Richard Sneath, Thomas
Boring, David Bartine, John Walker, George Wolley, James Bateman, Thomas
Burch, Michael Coate, and Asa Smith. Several of them, like M’Claskey,
Sargent, and Roszel, were physically as well as mentally great men.
Long since they have all been gathered to their fathers. The conference
adjourned on the 26th after a very peaceful and profitable session.
GENERAL CONFERENCE OF 1812.
On Friday, May 1, 1812, in the city of New York, there was a great
gathering in “Wesley Chapel,” John-street. The cradle of American
Methodism was an appropriate place in which to hold the “first delegated
General Conference” of the Methodist Episcopal Church. Bishops Asbury
and M’Kendree were there, and ninety representatives from eight Annual
Conferences. It was the first Bishop M’Kendree attended after his
election to the episcopacy, and the last at which the venerable Bishop
Asbury was present. Before the next session he was in Abraham’s bosom.
No account has hitherto been published of the opening services of this
conference, nor is there any record in the journal. The first day was
observed as a day of fasting and prayer. Bishop Asbury preached at
eleven o’clock from Matt. xvii, 19-21, a text admirably adapted to the
occasion. No man ever understood adaptation in preaching better than
Francis Asbury. Fasting was regularly observed by the Wesley’s and by our
fathers in the ministry. Alas, though enjoined in our general rules, it
is now almost obsolete.
On Sunday Bishop Asbury preached in the morning at the Bowery (now
Forsyth-street) Church, in the evening in the Fourth-street (now
Allen-street) Church. The Spirit of God accompanied the word to many
souls. On Monday the 4th it not only rained, but snowed: rather late in
the season for snow-storms. On Tuesday night I preached in Hudson (now
Duane) Church on John i, 11, 12.
On next Sunday, the 10th, Bishop Asbury preached in the morning in the
African Church. The colored people had a great time under the word. The
bishop was always a great friend to colored people, and they always had
the highest regard for him. In the evening he preached in the Hudson
Church. A good and gracious time in both places.
On Thursday evening I preached in John-street, from Matt. xi, 28, with
some comfort.
On Sunday the 17th I heard Bishop Asbury preach in Sands-street,
Brooklyn, from Isaiah lii, 1, “Awake, awake, put on thy strength O Zion,”
etc. I wrote in my journal, “A solemn, awful time.” The bishop said it
was an “elegant house.” What would he say now to our elegant houses if
he could revisit our churches? In the afternoon I heard Joshua Marsden
in John-street, on “wisdom.” He was a member of the English Wesleyan
Conference, and had been for some years in Nova Scotia. He had come to
New York to return to England, but the breaking out of the war between
England and America prevented him, and therefore he was employed to
preach in New York. He was a good preacher, a great admirer of Bishop
Asbury, and has given one of the best descriptions of the bishop’s
personal appearance and character I ever read. He had also no common gift
as a poet. Some of his pieces, especially a sonnet, “What is Time,” are
much admired.[41]
I need not give an account of the doings of the General Conference, which
the reader can find in the printed journals. I have dwelt on things
hitherto unrecorded. The presiding elder question was debated, whether
they should be appointed by the bishop or elected by the conference;
also the ordination of local preachers. Asa Shinn and Jesse Lee were
here opposed to each other, and it was like the wrestling of giants.
Lee contended the local preachers could not perform their ordination
vows while in a local condition. Mr. Shinn shrewdly replied that the
same form of ordination required an “elder to rule well his own family;”
that Brother Lee had promised to perform this duty twenty years before,
and yet he had never done it—he was a delinquent, and should keep his
own vows, etc. This retort was effective. The conference was perfectly
convulsed with laughter at the expense of the old bachelor, who sat down
shaking his great sides and enjoying it as well as others. From that time
he gave up his opposition.
On the 22d the conference adjourned, to meet in Baltimore May 1, 1816.
Where are now those delegates that met in New York in May, 1812? Of the
ninety strong men who were there eighty-four are dead, and six only
survive: Laban Clark, Joshua Soule, Daniel Webb, Lovick Pierce, Joseph
Travis, and John Early.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
NEW YORK, NEW ENGLAND, AND GENESEE CONFERENCES.
At the close of the General Conference Mr. Asbury and I left for Albany.
On the way we made Governor Van Cortland a visit at Croton. I wrote: “We
found the aged father in the possession of his faculties, and he loves
to hear of the prosperity of Zion.” He resided in the old Manor-house,
near the mouth of the Croton River. The governor was very rich, having
inherited a large part of Cortland Manor. The house was famous for its
antiquity, and for the distinguished guests that had been entertained
there, among whom were Washington, Lafayette, Franklin, and Whitefield,
who preached from the piazza to the multitudes who thronged to hear him.
It was a stopping place of Bishop Asbury, Garrettson, Moriarty, Hibbard,
Hutchinson, and others of the early Methodist fathers.
Governor Pierre Van Cortland was the first lieutenant-governor of New
York, and was re-elected eighteen times. He was the president of the
convention that formed and adopted the constitution of the State of New
York. In the City Hall in New York is a fine marble bust of him. He was
very tall, and of a commanding appearance. He wore breeches, and silver
shoe-buckles.
The governor was a Methodist, and gave the land for a church and
burying-ground. It was erected upon a hill, and commands a splendid view
of the Hudson. The old building remains, a relic of former days. He
married Joanna Livingston. They were both pure spirits. Their daughter,
Mrs. Van Wick, was a gifted woman, a shouting Methodist, who would
exhort with great effect. His daughter, Mrs. Gerard Beekman, was also a
Methodist, and her son, Dr. Stephen Beekman, at whose house the Rev. John
Summerfield died in New York on June 30, 1825.
Bishop Asbury greatly admired the old governor, and said he resembled
General Russel of Kentucky, who married the sister of Patrick Henry.
The governor, full of years and of honors, died on May 1, 1814, in the
ninety-fourth year of his age.
The next year, on May 13, the bishop in making his last tour through
his diocese went to the old mansion, and found its inhabitant gone. He
mournfully wrote: “The dear, aged man, Governor Van Cortland, has gone to
his rest, having attained his ninetieth year and upward.” He was buried
in his family cemetery, on a beautiful elevation a short distance from
the old Manor-house. On his marble tomb his portrait is drawn in full.
It concludes thus: “The simplicity of his private life was that of an
ancient patriarch. He died a bright witness of that perfect love which
casteth out the fear of death,” etc.
His son Philip was an illustrious man. He was brigadier-general during
the Revolutionary War, and distinguished himself in several battles,
and especially at Yorktown, where the crowning battle of the Revolution
was fought. He was the intimate friend of Lafayette, whom it is said
he strikingly resembled, and he made the tour of the country with him
in 1824. He was very friendly to the Methodists, and attended their
meetings; and when the minister failed to come, he would read a chapter
from the Bible. Great camp-meetings were held upon his land, and
multitudes were converted there. He died in 1831, and Noble W. Thomas
preached his funeral sermon.
From Croton we went to Rev. Freeborn Garrettson’s at Rhinebeck. The
bishop delighted to visit that model household. Fifty years later, long
after the death of Father Garrettson and his amiable wife, I went to the
old homestead. It stood as in the days when Bishop Asbury and I were
there, but where were its inmates? Melancholy reflections came over me
when I thought of the changes that had taken place; but I was kindly
entertained by their daughter Mary, as well as their nephew, Freeborn
Garrettson, Esq., whose friends I knew and those of his wife when I
traveled on the Peninsula half a century ago.
We tarried a short time at Poughkeepsie, where Methodism was then very
feeble. In the winter of 1861 I spent several weeks there, and was glad
to find three flourishing Churches, besides a German Church. In the
latter I was permitted to preach in my own vernacular, which I had not
done for years.
On Thursday, June 4, 1812, the New York Conference commenced its session
in Albany. Eleven were received on trial, among them William Ross, Tobias
Spicer, and Theodosius Clark. Mr. Clark is the only one remaining.
Fourteen remained on trial, including J. B. Matthias, Benjamin Griffen,
John B. Stratten, and Samuel Luckey. The latter is the only one living,
except Hawley Sanford, who located years ago. He is the father of Rev.
A. K. Sanford of the New York Conference. This was my last visit to the
noble New York Conference with Bishop Asbury. I attended its session at
Poughkeepsie in 1861, and looked in vain for the men I saw in 1812. But
four remained: Marvin Richardson, Phineas Rice, Benjamin Griffen, and
Theodosius Clark. Rice and Griffen have since departed.
Leaving Albany, we rode on horseback to Boston, and were the guests
of our old friend Otheman, father of Rev. B. Otheman, of New England
Conference, and grandfather of Rev. E. B. Otheman, of New York
Conference, and of the late Mrs. Stevens, wife of Rev. Abel Stevens, LL.D.
On June 20, 1812, the New England Conference began in Lynn. Both Asbury
and M’Kendree were present. On Sunday I preached at five in the morning,
Bishop M’Kendree at ten, and Bishop Asbury at three in the afternoon.
The session was exceedingly harmonious. The announcement that war was
declared by the United States against Great Britain produced the most
intense excitement. Of the eighty-four preachers present all are gone
except Joshua Soule and Daniel Webb.
Leaving Lynn, the bishop went to the Genesee Conference. We stopped in
Troy, and Bishop Asbury held forth from “If any man speak,” etc. We heard
Nathan Bangs on “Being made free from sin,” etc. It was the first time I
ever heard him. Samuel Merwin, then stationed in Albany, accompanied us
for a little distance. He was a noble looking man.
The Genesee Conference was to have been held in Niagara, Upper Canada,
but the war prevented, and it was changed to Lyons.
The 28th of July it commenced in Daniel Dorsey’s store-house or granary.
Here the ordinations were performed. I am told the venerable old building
is still standing. There was a camp-meeting held in connection with the
conference. I preached in German from Isaiah iii, 10, 11.
We missed the preachers from Canada. There was an increase of six hundred
on two districts. We could not hear from Canada. This was my last visit
to the Genesee Conference. What has God done for Methodism in Western
New York since that day!
We left for my mother’s, passing through the valley of Wyoming, and
arrived at the old mansion the 11th of August. Bishop Asbury wept for his
old friend, and I for my father.
CHAPTER XXXV.
MY LAST TOUR WITH BISHOP ASBURY.
On Monday, August 17, we started on the last tour I made with the bishop.
The next Monday we went to Pipe Creek and attended a camp-meeting there.
Then we started West, and the bishop remarked, “There was a strange
medley of preachers, drovers, beasts on four legs, and beasts made by
whisky on two, traveling on the turnpike at one time.”
In eight months we had traveled six thousand miles and attended nine
conferences and ten camp-meetings.
On Friday, September 18, we went to Rush Creek camp-meeting. We tarried
with Edward Teel, a Methodist of the old stamp, nearly eighty years
old. Mr. Asbury and he had been friends over forty years. He was the
father-in-law of Rev. James Quin. The bishop at this time was very
feeble, and required much care and constant nursing.
We reached Chillicothe, and were the guests of Rev. Thomas S. Hines,
a local preacher. He was a good writer, and capital at sketching.
He wrote those sketches on Western Methodism that appeared in the
_Methodist Magazine_ and in the _Christian Advocate_, over the signature
of Theophilus Arminius. He was the intimate friend of Rev. William
Beauchamp, and wrote his memoir. He was the son of Dr. S. Hines, whom
Bishop Asbury mentions, who put a blister plaster on the back of his
wife’s head to draw her Methodism out of her. She bore it with such
meekness and patience that it led to the awakening and conversion of her
husband. I was acquainted with the old doctor, who was a very singular
but interesting man.
He related the circumstance of his trying to extract his wife’s Methodism
by so harsh a remedy to the bishop and myself, and he cried, and said,
“what a fool I was to do so.” The doctor was a surgeon in the British
army under General Wolfe, and was present at the Plains of Abraham
where Wolfe fell at Quebec, and Captain Webb lost an eye. The doctor
and his family emigrated from Virginia to Kentucky when it was one vast
wilderness. He was formerly a deist, but became a Methodist. He and his
estimable wife were pillars in the temple of Western Methodism. She was
a noble woman, and had a superior mind. She gave a reason of the hope
within her, silenced infidels, and carried the war into the enemy’s camp.
The Western Conference began at Chillicothe October 1, 1812. Friday was
a day of fasting. At eleven Bishop Asbury preached from Acts xiii, 1, 2,
“And they ministered to the Lord, and fasted,” etc. The bishop preached
three times, and labored with apostolic zeal. He ordained twelve deacons
and twelve elders. He made this entry in his journal: “Upon the last day
my strength failed. I want sleep, sleep, sleep; for three hours I lay
undisturbed in bed, to which I had stolen on Wednesday, but they called
me up to read off the stations. I have considerable fever, but we must
move.”
The bishop and I went to Cincinnati, where we spent the Sabbath, and both
preached. This was my last visit to this place till forty-seven years
after. Thence we traveled to Kentucky. At Lexington the bishop heard
a local preacher, at whose father’s house he had preached in 1780. At
Frankfort he preached in the chamber of the House of Representatives,
and found among his hearers a man who was his companion through the
wilderness twenty-three years before.
At Nashville, Tennessee, we saw a daughter of General Russel, Widow
Bowen and her three daughters, who were all Methodists. We lodged with
the jailor, but he kindly let us out. The bishop pleasantly said we were
“prisoners of hope.” He preached in the new church on the Sabbath, and
wrote, “This is a pentecostal day to my soul. Hail, all hail, eternal
glory!”
The Tennessee Conference met near James Quin’s at Fountain Head,
November 9, 1812. It was held at Brother House’s, that we might have the
meeting-house to preach in. Both the bishops preached, and I had the
privilege also. Forty deacons and ten elders were ordained, and there
was an increase of eight thousand within its bounds. This was the first
session of the Tennessee Conference. Up to that time we had had in the
West only the grand old Western Conference.
The formation of the Tennessee Conference was a new era in Western
Methodism, and paved the way for the formation of future conferences.
Bishop Asbury was anxious to form a Mississippi Conference, and makes
this record: “We shall have gone entirely round the United States in
forty years; but there will be other states! God will raise up men to
make and meet conferences in them also, if we remain faithful as a
people.” How true his predictions concerning other states and other
conferences: states have been more than doubled, and conferences have
multiplied till, North and South, we have nearly a hundred. And God has
raised up the men and furnished the means to carry on this glorious work.
During conference I was the honored guest of James M’Kendree, father of
the bishop. He was happy in God and bound for heaven. This was my last
visit to the venerated patriarch.
A number of preachers started with the bishops on our Southern tour. The
eccentric James Axley was with us, and he was most excellent company. At
night we were entertained by Rev. John Magee, the father of camp-meetings
in America and the father-in-law of Rev. Thomas L. Douglass. On
Wednesday Bishop Asbury baptized six children. Then we crossed the French
Broad and forded the Big Pigeon. It was nothing for us to ford rivers.
On Sunday Bishop M’Kendree preached a characteristic sermon, James Axley
exhorted, and I followed. In those days we gave them sermon upon sermon,
exhortation upon exhortation.
On December 17 we reached Charleston, and our bishops were received
as angels from God. During the route over the mountains Bishop Asbury
suffered exceedingly from cold. We had to ford deep streams, and dined
frequently in the woods. We stopped at one place where a gentleman
offered Bishop Asbury brandy and the Bible. He took the Bible, and let
the brandy alone. In his journal he says: “I cannot easily describe the
pain under which I shrink and writhe. The weather is cold, and I have
constant pleuritic twinges in the side. In cold, in hunger, and in want
of clothing, mine are apostolic sufferings.” I witnessed his intense
suffering, and in a measure shared them. How I rejoice that the mountains
are crossed for the last time, but never can I forget the toils, the
struggles, the privations the bishop endured for the Church of God.
The conference was pleasant, and lasted one week. My visits to Charleston
were always refreshing. The southern preachers I ardently loved, and the
Charleston Methodists. What a bond of union then bound the North and
the South together! O for the return of those days of peace and union
and confidence! then my old heart would rejoice, and I would say, “Lord,
lettest now thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy
salvation.”
Our northern route was exceedingly irksome and tedious, not merely on
account of the weather, which was very raw and cold, but of the severe
illness of Bishop Asbury. Never was he more feeble, never less able to
travel, and yet he would go on. There was only one thing that could stop
him—the pale horse and his rider.
We left Charleston the last day of 1812. Father Asbury having lost the
use of one of his feet by rheumatism, I had to carry him in my arms and
place him in his sulky, and then to take him out and carry him into a
church or private dwelling, and he would sit and preach. At Fayetteville
I carried him into the church, and he preached from Zech. ix, 12, “the
stronghold.” After the sermon he ordained three persons. He had one
blister on him, and I carried him to our host and he put on three more.
He traveled in great misery.
On the twenty-fourth, at Wilmington, I carried him into church, and he
preached in the morning, and then met the society; and that not being
enough for a sick, old, infirm bishop, he would preach again in the
evening. After that he was in such misery that a poultice was applied to
mitigate his pain.
The next day we rode twenty-four miles. The bishop’s feet were so swollen
he could not wear a shoe. Almost any other man would have been in bed,
but he loved his work better than his life. His record on that day is, “I
have a fever and swelled feet.” The next day, “I suffer violent pain in
my right foot;” and yet he says, “I have filled all my appointments, and
answered the letters received.” Who else would have thus persevered amid
pain and anguish, dying by inches to accomplish so much work?
On February 4 the bishop was as tickled as a little child. Why? Because
he was able once more to put on his leather shoes. And he exclaimed, “O
the sufferings I have endured, patiently I hope!” He did suffer most
excruciatingly, but patience in him had its perfect work. On our way to
Newbern the bishop preached every day, sometimes at considerable length.
One service, ordination and all, lasted two hours. The bishop said, “I
gained a fever and a clear conscience by my labors.” I would rather have
had the clear conscience without the fever; but he often forgot himself
in his anxiety to benefit others.
On Monday, February 8, we reached Newbern, N. C. The bishop writes,
“I am in Newbern on crutches.” The Virginia Conference was held in a
school-room. Both Asbury and M’Kendree were present. There was some
excellent preaching from Stith Mead, Thomas L. Douglass, and the two
bishops.
Jesse Lee preached from Acts xvii, 6, “These that have turned the world
upside down,” etc. His propositions were, 1. That originally the moral
world was right side up. 2. Sin had turned it wrong side up. 3. It was
the design of the Gospel and the business of the ministry to restore it
to its original position. The next morning nearly everything about the
town looked ridiculous, being upside down. Wagons, boats, signs, gates,
almost everything was bottom side upward. Some of the inhabitants were
vexed, and some laughed; while the authors of the mischief enjoyed the
fun, and laid it to the preacher, who they said had come to turn the town
over that it might be right side up.
Of the conference Bishop Asbury says: “We had great order, great union,
and dispatch in business. The increase here in membership this year is
seven hundred; but ah, deaths and locations!” There were in the Virginia
Conference this year no less than thirteen locations. No wonder the
bishop groaned over such defections.
We reached Georgetown and were the guests of Henry Foxall.[42] Here the
bishop received an invitation from the British Conference to visit
them, and promising to meet the expenses of his journey, which was very
gratifying to him. He also had a call from the Rev. William Watters, now
aged and feeble. This was the last time I ever saw him.
We went to Annapolis and thence to Baltimore. We tarried all night
with our aged friend, Father Otterbein. Bishop Asbury says, “I gave an
evening to the great Otterbein. I found him placid and happy in God.”
That was an evening I shall ever remember; two noble souls met, and their
conversation was rich and full of instruction. They had met frequently
before; this was their last interview on earth—long ago they met in
heaven.
Baltimore Conference commenced on the 24th. Jacob Gruber and I preached,
in German, on Sunday in Otterbein’s Church. Bishop Asbury preached twice.
At this conference Beverly Waugh, James M. Hanson, and others were
ordained elders. On leaving Baltimore we took a tour through a part of
the Peninsula.
The Philadelphia Conference assembled in Philadelphia on April 24, 1813.
Both bishops were present. Bishop M’Kendree preached at the Union from
James iv, 10; Bishop Asbury in St. George’s from Rom. i, 16.
At the conference in 1813 I ceased to travel with Bishop Asbury as his
“help-meet.” I had been with Bishop Asbury since 1808. He thought I was
needed among the Germans, and that I ought to be near my mother, who was
living within the bounds of Schuylkill District, to which he appointed me.
When my character was examined the question was asked, “Is there anything
against Henry Boehm?” “Nothing,” said the bishop, “against Brother
Boehm.” He then rose and said, in his nervous and emphatic manner, “For
five years he has been my constant companion. He served me as a _son_; he
served me as a _brother_; he served me as a _servant_; he served me as
a _slave_.” His earnest, emphatic manner caused some to smile and many
to weep. Dr. Thomas F. Sargent laughed and said, “The bishop has given
you quite a character.” Without egotism, I may say I always retained the
bishop’s confidence. This is evident from the fact that six weeks after
we parted he appointed me one of the executors of his last will and
testament.
While with Mr. Asbury I attended to the financial affairs of the Book
Room at conferences. This was during the war, when there was great
trouble in remitting funds. John Wilson, book agent, died in 1810, and
Daniel Hitt, the other agent, had to attend to the business at home. It
was a greater task to attend to such complex business, to collect funds
and remit drafts, than many would suppose. This brought me into a more
intimate acquaintance with all the preachers North and South, East and
West.
On the journals of the General Conference of 1812 the reader will find
the following: “L. Myers moved that this conference express their
gratitude to Brother Henry Boehm for his services to the connection in
collecting and remitting moneys belonging thereunto, and that they vote
him some compensation as an acknowledgement of their gratitude.” Their
“thanks” were voted, but no “compensation.” Thanks are cheap. I saved the
Book Room thousands of dollars. I was sub-agent. Daniel Hitt could not
go, and to have sent a special agent would have involved much expense. I
have never received any compensation, and never desired any.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
SCHUYLKILL DISTRICT, 1813-14.
The office of presiding elder was new to me, and I felt my
responsibility. Philadelphia, Wilmington, and seven circuits composed
my district. Several of the circuits I had previously traveled, and
my old friends hailed me with joy. It included my native place and
Boehm’s Chapel, and I was near my old mother, who was bending under the
infirmities of age. Several of the preachers had been my colleagues, and
were my personal friends, and I could not but feel at home with them.
There were noble men on my district, among them two future bishops,
Robert R. Roberts and John Emory. The other presiding elders were Peter
Vannest, Michael Coate, and John M’Claskey. Peter Vannest had heard John
Wesley, and he used to say, “Brethren, remain by the old landmarks. These
very eyes have seen John Wesley, and these hands have handled him.” While
the others died early he lived to an extreme old age, beloved by all who
knew him, and died in holy triumph in Pemberton, New Jersey.
My home on the district was with Robert R. Roberts, in Philadelphia. I
was a single man, and he had no children. He invited me to make his
house my home.
On the 31st of July Bishop Asbury and John C. French, who traveled with
him, came to the old homestead while I was there. The bishop spent the
Sabbath and preached in Boehm’s Chapel in the morning from Titus ii,
2-10. The text was a sermon in itself: advice to “aged men,” to “aged
women,” to “young women,” to “young men,” to “servants,” etc. The bishop
says in his journal, “Happily we met H. Boehm, who had appointed a
meeting at Boehm’s Chapel.” He had been on his northern and eastern tour,
and he was exceedingly fatigued, and he wrote, “Rest man and beast.” They
both needed it. For three days he was employed in answering letters. He
also wrote on my father’s old desk a valedictory to the Church, to be
read by Bishop M’Kendree to the General Conference when he was gathered
to his fathers. It contained his views of the primitive Church government
and ordination, and abounded in wise counsels and suggestions. He knew
he could not live much longer, and he left his thoughts on these weighty
subjects for the benefit of others when he rested from his labors.
Soon after I held a camp-meeting on the banks of the Sweet Arrow, in
Dauphin County. Many were converted at this meeting; among others the
daughter of the distinguished Joseph Priestley.
The Schuylkill District was about one hundred miles square, and yet,
after traveling with Bishop Asbury around his large diocese, such is the
power of habit, I felt as if I was confined to a small space; therefore I
sometimes left my district and visited other fields of labor. I attended
a camp-meeting on the Chesapeake District, on land that belonged to
Thomas White, Bishop Asbury’s early friend.
On Tuesday, April 5, 1814, I went to Philadelphia, and met our aged and
venerable Bishops Asbury and M’Kendree. On Wednesday our conference
commenced its session. All went on harmoniously. Bishop M’Kendree
preached at St. George’s a most melting sermon. Bishop Asbury preached
in the morning at the Union, on “Will ye also go away?” etc.; in the
afternoon at St. George’s, from Rom. ii, 21. On Wednesday Bishop
M’Kendree preached an ordination sermon from 2 Cor. v, 20, and then he
ordained eleven to the office of elder. This was a gracious conference.
Bishop Asbury says in his journal: “The Philadelphia Conference
progressed in great peace and Gospel order. We had crowded houses day
and night. We doubt not but that souls have been convinced, converted,
comforted, and sanctified by the ministration of the word.” There was
but little change on my district among the preachers; but, alas! there
was a change in the presiding elderships before the year was out. Two of
them were transferred to heaven. John M’Claskey, of Chesapeake District,
fell at his post, covered with scars and loaded with honors, on September
2, 1814. I have had occasion to speak of him several times. He was the
spiritual son of “Daddy Abbott,” and preached his funeral sermon by
his particular request. He was a noble presiding officer. His strong
constitution suffered from yellow fever in New York in 1800, and then the
death of his only son, who was going to be married, and who died from a
mistake his physician made in giving him medicine, almost crushed his
heart. His end was triumphant.
Michael Coate, of West Jersey District, died the first of August. I had
known him for years, as well as his brother Samuel. He was distinguished
for strength of mind and soundness of judgment, and especially for the
meek and quiet spirit which, in the sight of God, is of great price. The
last time he preached was on the multitude John saw before the throne,
Rev. viii, 9, and soon he went to join them. He was born in 1767, and
converted, died, and was buried in Burlington County, N. J. The death
of two such men in one year was a great loss to our conference and the
Church.
Immediately after the adjournment of conference I made a very pleasant
tour with Bishop M’Kendree. We first went to Germantown, and he preached
there. On Sunday he preached at the new church in Holmesburgh, from
Rom. i, 16. Then we rode to Trenton and went with Peter Vannest to
the Bethel, where the bishop preached; then to Hopewell, now called
Pennington. The bishop preached there, and we put up with an old
Methodist by the name of Bunn. His descendants are numerous, and they
are all Methodists. Methodism was introduced here early by Captain Webb.
We have now there a noble seminary and a flourishing Church. Thence went
to Asbury, and Bishop M’Kendree preached in the morning on the parable
of the “Unjust steward,” and in the afternoon from Isaiah xxxii, 17. On
Monday we parted with the bishop, he going on to attend the New York
Conference, and I returning to my district. On reaching home I heard that
Bishop Asbury was sick at Brother Sale Coate’s, a brother of Michael and
Samuel Coate, at Lumberton, New Jersey. On the 3d of May I went there
and found him so very low he was scarcely able to breathe. The next day
he appeared a little better. On Friday and Saturday his difficulty of
breathing was so great that we frequently looked for his departure. On
Sunday I wrote, “Bishop Asbury is very low, but expectorates freely;
no material change, only that he gradually decreases in strength.”
On Monday, about one o’clock A.M., there appeared an evident change
for the better. In answer to prayer, he was remarkably comforted with
the presence and power of the Lord. He continued in a convalescent
state until Friday morning, when we thought he would have expired;
his hands and feet were cold. Through the whole of his affliction his
conversation was about the great and deep things of God; the Church of
God on earth, and the many glorified saints who are reaping the rewards
of the heavenly world. For ten nights in succession I sat up and watched
with him; the last night he seemed to be carried out of himself: all
of his conversation was relative to God, Christ, and the great work
of redemption. On the 18th I wrote: “Bishop Asbury seems to be much
better, so that he can now lie upon his pillow and sleep, which he had
not been able to do in three weeks, except a few minutes at a time. The
prospect of his recovering is somewhat flattering.” Such is the record
I made fifty years ago. John W. Bond was then the bishop’s traveling
companion, and was all kindness and attention, but he had been with the
bishop but a few weeks. There was enough for two or three of us to do at
Brother Coate’s while the bishop was so dangerously ill. The family were
exceedingly kind, and did all in their power to make him comfortable. I
remained with them sixteen days and nights in succession. He never fully
recovered from that sickness, and he was physically unfit to go round his
diocese again. It was a living death, a perpetual martyrdom. For three
months the dear old man kept no record in his journal. On resuming it
he wrote: “I return to my journal after an interval of twelve weeks. I
have been ill indeed; but medicine, nursing, and kindness, under God,
have been so far effectual, that I have recovered strength enough to sit
in my little covered wagon, into which they lift me. I have clambered
over the rude mountains, passing through York and Chambersburgh to
Greensburgh. Tuesday, July 19, I would not be loved to death, and so
came down from my sick room and took the road, weak enough. Attention
constant, and kindness unceasing, have pursued me to this place, and my
strength increases daily. I look back upon a martyr’s life of toil and
privation and pain, and I am ready for a martyr’s death. The purity of
my intentions; my diligence in the labors to which God has been pleased
to call me; the unknown sufferings I have endured; what are all these?
The merit, atonement, and righteousness of Christ alone make my plea. My
friends in Philadelphia gave me a little light four-wheel carriage; but
God and the Baltimore Conference gave me a richer present—they gave me
John Wesley Bond for a traveling companion; has he his equal on earth for
excellences of every kind as an aid? I groan one minute with pain, and
shout glory the next.”
In August I had a delightful interview at Middletown with my friend Dr.
Romer, who translated the Methodist Discipline into German. On the 31st
of March I went with John Emory to visit the sick and pray with them.
He was not only a superior man and preacher, but an excellent pastor.
Though a great student, it did not prevent his attending to his pastoral
work. He was very popular. I had often visited his father, Judge Emory,
and I knew his spiritual father, John Chalmers. John Emory was afterward
book agent, a clear-headed business man, a delegate to the Wesleyan
Conference; elected bishop in 1832, and was thrown from his carriage
and killed December 6, 1835. I baptized his son, Robert Emory. He was
a beautiful infant when I laid on his head the consecrated waters of
baptism. When he grew up to manhood, and was president of Dickinson
College, I looked upon him and thought of his excellent father and
mother, and of the time I baptized him in the name of the Trinity. He,
too, has fallen asleep.
On April 12, to my great joy, I met Bishop M’Kendree at Radner’s. On
the next day, which was appointed by the general government for public
thanksgiving for the restoration of peace, he preached a most appropriate
sermon. The bishop was full of patriotism, and with a national subject he
was perfectly at home. He was the intimate friend and a great admirer of
General Jackson, and related many characteristic anecdotes concerning him.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
CHESAPEAKE DISTRICT—GOVERNOR BASSETT’S DEATH AND CHARACTER.
The conference met in Philadelphia on April 20, 1815. Bishop Asbury was
so exceedingly ill that the laboring oar fell upon Bishop M’Kendree.
Bishop Asbury visited the conference room once only and then was obliged
to retire. Alas! when he departed his venerable form and whitened locks
disappeared, to be seen in that body no more. He always had a high regard
for the Philadelphia Conference. It was in Philadelphia he preached his
first sermon in America, and was “received as an angel from God.” He was
at the first conference in Philadelphia in 1773, when there were ten
traveling preachers in America, and he had attended it for thirty-two
years.
On Friday I went with Bishop M’Kendree to visit Bishop Asbury. He was
feeble in body but strong in God, and his wrinkled countenance brightened
at the prospect of soon seeing “the King in his beauty.” M’Kendree prayed
with his venerable colleague, who was hovering between two worlds.
I was appointed to Chesapeake District. It may appear strange I did
not remain on the Schuylkill District. John M’Claskey, who was on the
Chesapeake District, died the preceding year; it was proposed to appoint
Robert R. Roberts, but he feared that going down on the Peninsula would
injure his health. I had spent some years there and got acclimated, and
it was thought I could stand it better, and therefore he was appointed
to the Schuylkill District and I to the Chesapeake. Being a single man,
it was not much trouble for me to move, and I was glad to accommodate my
excellent friend, who had furnished me with a kind home for two years in
Philadelphia.
I entered upon my pleasant field of labor with joy. Over much of the
ground I had traveled before, and there were many old friends to welcome
me. My district was a noble one, including some of the best circuits on
the Peninsula.
On the 16th of May, in company with Robert R. Roberts and Ezekiel
Cooper, I went to visit Governor Bassett at Bohemia Manor. He was ill
in body, but happy in God. We had a delightful interview, and found him
ripening for the other world. How beautiful is religion in old age!
“The hoary head” is indeed a crown of glory, being found in “the way of
righteousness.”
The 31st of June I was at Father Henry Downs’s. He it was that imprisoned
Thomas S. Chew, and was converted by his prisoner. I mingled with the
fathers, who were familiar with Methodism almost from its origin in
America, both ministers and laymen. Such laymen as Father Downs, whose
history has all the charms of romance and all the power of truth, did
much toward establishing Methodism in its infancy in the Peninsula.
On the Fourth of July I visited my mother at the old family mansion.
I had not been home more than fifteen minutes when, to my great joy,
Bishop Asbury unexpectedly arrived. He came from the New England and
other Conferences with Rev. J. W. Bond, and was much better than when
I saw him last. The bishop was glad to see me, as will appear by the
following extract from his journal: “Happy at Mother Boehm’s. A pleasing
Providence, according to my wishes, had brought Henry in a few moments
before.”
He remained two days. He had visited that old home for the pilgrim for
thirty-five years, and received hearty welcomes from my father when
alive, and from my mother in her widowhood. He had completed his last
episcopal tour, and my aged mother and the bishop bade one another adieu
for the last time. I went with him to Lancaster, and then was reluctant
to leave him, and so I went a little further, for I had an impression
I should see his face no more. He gave me much excellent advice, and
cautioned me to take good care of my health, as I was then traveling in
a region of country not considered very healthy. He then embraced me
in his arms, pressed me to his bosom, gave me his last kiss and his
benediction. He rode on while I lingered and gazed till his venerable
form was beyond my vision. I felt a veneration for Bishop Asbury I never
had for any other human being, and loved him as I loved my own dear
father.
GOVERNOR BASSETT.
Governor Bassett died in the summer of 1815. He should ever have a
prominent place in the annals of early American Methodism. At this remote
period it is almost impossible to have a correct idea of the position he
once occupied, and the influence he exerted in favor of Methodism.
Some have entertained the idea that Methodism was adapted only to the
low and the ignorant, for the common people; but this is a mistake. In
its early days in America some of the loftiest families embraced it with
joy. Among the most distinguished was Richard Bassett. He was an eminent
lawyer, a judge, Governor of Delaware, a member of the old Congress in
1787, and a senator under the new constitution. He was a delegate from
Delaware to the convention that formed the Constitution of the United
States, and his name is enrolled on that account with those of George
Washington, Alexander Hamilton, Benjamin Franklin, Robert Morris, and
other distinguished patriots and statesmen.
Mr. Bassett was rich. He inherited six thousand acres of land, much of it
near the Bohemia River. He had three homes, residing part of the time
in Dover, and then in Bohemia and Wilmington. I have been entertained at
them all.
Before he was converted he was a very fashionable man, and moved in the
highest circles in society. He had his good things in this life. But when
converted he was as humble and teachable as a little child. In person he
was a stout-built man, of medium height, and looked as if he was made
for service. His countenance was full of benignity, and his eye was
very expressive. He was a man of superior judgment, a safe counselor.
I used to ask his advice, and he gave it most cheerfully, and I always
found it judicious. His voice was very strong and musical, and at camp
and quarterly meetings he thrilled the people. He was distinguished for
benevolence, and given to hospitality. He has entertained over a hundred
at one time. His heart was as large as his mansion.
His first wife did not live long. She left an amiable daughter, who was
married to the Hon. James A. Bayard, who was a commissioner to form a
treaty of peace with England. With her father I visited Mrs. Bayard while
her husband was absent in Europe.
The governor was a Methodist of the old stamp. He admired all its
peculiarities; loved to worship in the groves, and had several
camp-meetings on his own grounds. He was one of the sweet singers of
our Israel. He delighted to hear the colored people sing; there was no
sweeter music to him. He held fast his integrity to the end. I often
saw him in age and feebleness extreme. Though princely rich, he lived
plainly, without display or extravagance.
His large possessions were in Bohemia, Cecil County, Maryland. It was
called Bohemia from Augustus Hermon, a Bohemian, who obtained a grant
for eighteen thousand acres of land. Richard Bassett became heir to a
part of this immense estate. He died in 1815, and his life-time friend,
Ezekiel Cooper, preached his funeral sermon. He was buried in a vault
he had prepared in a beautiful locust grove on the banks of the Bohemia
River. There sleep his family and the Bayards. The venerable old mansion,
distinguished for its antiquity, for the splendid paintings that adorned
its walls, for the hospitality that reigned there, and as the home of
Bishop Asbury and the old pioneers of Methodism, was burned down a few
years ago, and, like the owner, has passed away.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
GENERAL CONFERENCE—ASBURY’S FUNERAL, ETC.
The conference which was held in Philadelphia April 18, 1816, was a
gloomy one. There was no bishop to preside, Asbury being dead, and
M’Kendree sick. During this conference Ezekiel Cooper preached a sermon
on the life and character of Bishop Asbury, that afterward made a book
called “Cooper on Asbury.”
Rev. R. R. Roberts was elected president. He filled the office with ease
and dignity, and we passed harmoniously through the business of the
session. Several delegates from the eastern conferences, who were on
their way to attend the General Conference at Baltimore, were present,
and admired the manner in which Brother Roberts conducted the business of
the conference, and this led to his nomination and election as bishop.
No ordination took place at this conference in consequence of the absence
of the bishop. The delegates elected to the General Conference were R.
R. Roberts, L. M’Combs, S. Sharp, J. Totten, J. Walker, S. Hill, S.
Martindale, A. Smith, H. Boehm, J. Emory, W. Bishop, and J. Sharpley. I
was reappointed presiding elder of Chesapeake District.
The second delegated General Conference met in the Light-street Church,
Baltimore, May 1, 1816. There was a feeling of sadness caused by the
absence of Bishop Asbury. Bishop M’Kendree was present, but very feeble.
After the organization, on the first day an address was presented from
the male members of the Church in Baltimore asking the privilege of
removing the remains of Bishop Asbury from the place where they had been
buried to Baltimore. Their request was granted, and Rev. John W. Bond
was desired to superintend their removal. Five members of the General
Conference were appointed to act in concert with the Baltimore brethren:
Philip Bruce, Nelson Reed, Freeborn Garrettson, Lewis Myers, and George
Pickering.
The conference passed a vote of thanks to George Arnold of Spottsylvania,
at whose house the bishop died, for his attention to our venerable father
during his illness, and requesting permission to have the bishop’s
remains removed from his family burying-ground to Baltimore. Mr. Arnold
granted the request, and on the 9th of May the body arrived, and was
placed at the house of William Hawkins. The fact being announced to the
conference by Stephen G. Roszel, they resolved to attend his funeral the
next morning, and appointed Henry Stead, William Case, Seth Mattison, and
myself to sit up with the corpse during the night. Never shall I forget
that night; thought was busy in reviewing the past; the whole life of
Bishop Asbury, particularly the five years I was with him, passed before
me in review like a panorama. Five times that night, in imagination, I
went with the bishop around his large diocese, over the mountains and
valleys. I thought of his self-denial, his deadness to the world; of his
intense labors, his enlarged benevolence, his sympathy for the suffering,
of the hundreds of sermons I had heard him preach, the prayers I had
heard him offer; the many times I had slept with him; how often I had
carried him in my arms. Where are the great and good men that watched
with me that night? Long ago they have met the bishop “where they can die
no more, but are equal to the angels of God.”
At ten o’clock next morning the funeral services took place. There was an
immense gathering at Light-street, where the bishop’s remains had been
placed. They were removed in solemn procession to the Eutaw Church. At
the head of this procession were Bishop M’Kendree and William Black of
Nova Scotia. Bishop Asbury having no relatives in this country, John W.
Bond and myself, his surviving traveling companions, were selected to
follow his remains as chief mourners. Indeed we both felt to exclaim,
“My father, my father, the chariots of Israel and the horsemen thereof.”
The members of the conference followed, with several ministers of other
denominations and a vast throng of citizens.
Bishop M’Kendree pronounced a funeral oration full of melting pathos,
and the remains of the deceased, embalmed by the tears of multitudes,
were deposited in a vault under the recess of the pulpit of the
Eutaw-street Church. Upon beautiful marble was inscribed an appropriate
epitaph, to tell the stranger where the dust of the noble Asbury sleeps.
On the Sunday following the obsequies of Bishop Asbury, funeral sermons
were preached in all our churches in Baltimore. I was appointed to preach
in the late Father Otterbein’s church. My text was Rev. xiv, 13. I gave
a sketch of the bishop’s life, character, labors, and success, and his
peaceful end; of the relation that subsisted between their late venerated
pastor, William Otterbein, Bishop Asbury, and Martin Boehm, and how they
were reunited in the bright world above.
Bishop Asbury, at the request of Bishop M’Kendree and the Genesee
Conference, wrote a valedictory to be read after he was gone. This
he left among his papers. That important document was written at my
mother’s, on my father’s old desk, the first week in August, 1813. I was
present when he wrote it, and he talked with me on various points.
On the second day of May this valedictory address was read to the General
Conference after some introductory remarks by Bishop M’Kendree. It was
the last message of the lamented Asbury, the final counsel of a father
to his children, and it was listened to with breathless attention. It
was replete with wise sayings and appropriate suggestions. It advocated
a divine call to the ministry and opposed men-made ministers; cautioned
against the tendency to locality, and dwelt upon the importance of the
itinerancy; directed them to guard against two orders of ministers, one
for the country the other for cities. Among other counsels was this,
worthy to be written in letters of gold, “Preserve a noble independence
on all occasions; be the willing servants of slaves, but slaves to none.”
Two months after I left Mr. Asbury as his traveling companion he made his
will in Winchester, New Hampshire, as the following record in his journal
will show: “June 6, 1813. Knowing the uncertainty of the tenure of life
I have made my will, appointing Bishop M’Kendree, Daniel Hitt, and Henry
Boehm my executors. If I do not in the mean time spend it, I shall leave
when I die an estate of two thousand dollars, I believe. I give it all to
the Book Room. This money, and somewhat more, I have inherited from dear
departed Methodist friends in the state of Maryland, who died childless;
besides some legacies I have never taken. Let all return and continue to
aid the cause of piety.”
The bishop’s will was recorded in Baltimore; and during the General
Conference in 1816, Bishop M’Kendree, Daniel Hitt, and I went to the
proper authorities and were qualified to act as executors.
In regard to the money, a lady in Baltimore had given him near two
thousand dollars, and I advised him to put it out upon interest. He did
so, or he would have got rid of it. He was very uneasy when he had money
until it was gone. It seemed to burn in his pocket until he was relieved.
He left a Bible to every child that had been named after him. He left
eighty dollars a year to Mrs. Elizabeth Dickins, widow of our first book
agent. Her name was Yancey, and she was from North Carolina. She was a
charming woman, worthy to have been the wife of that great and good man,
John Dickins. She continued to receive this annuity till her death in
1835.
Most of the business of distributing the Bibles fell on me, and I gave
more than four hundred to children that had been named Francis Asbury.
There were probably a thousand children named after him at the time, but
many of the parents would know nothing of the will, for we had then no
Methodist papers to give the information. His will gave a Bible to all
the children who had been named after him up to his death.[43] I made a
final settlement with Rev. John Emory when he was book agent. Daniel Hitt
died in 1825, Bishop M’Kendree in 1835. I have survived Daniel Hitt forty
years, Bishop M’Kendree thirty years, and Bishop Asbury forty-nine years.
There was a vast amount of business done at the General Conference of
1816, and it was more methodical than formerly. John Emory, for the
first time, was a member of the General Conference, and he distinguished
himself at once by his clear head and capacity for business.
I was placed on two important committees, “Temporal Economy” and
“Slavery.” The other members of that on slavery were William Phœbus,
Charles Virgin, Abner Chase, Charles Holliday, Samuel Sellers, Daniel
Asbury, C. H. Hines, and Beverly Waugh. We were directed “to examine into
the subject of slavery and report.” On this question, which has vexed
ecclesiastical and national councils from the beginning, the committee
brought in a report, of which the following is a part: “After mature
deliberation, they are of the opinion that, under the present existing
circumstances in relation to slavery little can be done to abolish a
practice so contrary to the principles of moral justice. They are sorry
to say that the evil appears to be past remedy, and they are led to
deplore the destructive consequences which have already accrued and are
yet likely to result therefrom.” They recommended the insertion of the
following clause in the Discipline: “Therefore no slaveholder shall be
eligible to any official station in our Church hereafter where the laws
of the state in which he lives will admit of emancipation, and permit
the liberated slave to enjoy freedom.” The report was adopted by the
conference.
On Tuesday, the 14th, the conferences elected two bishops, Enoch George
and Robert R. Roberts, the former having fifty-seven and the latter
fifty-five votes out of one hundred and six that were cast.
On Friday they were ordained, after Bishop M’Kendree had preached an
admirable sermon on “The great commission,” from Mark xvi, 15, 16. In the
ordination he was assisted by Philip Bruce of Virginia, Dr. Phœbus of New
York, and Nelson Reed of Baltimore, they being the three oldest elders
present.
I was present at the ordination of Bishops Whatcoat, Coke, and Asbury,
in 1800; at the ordination of M’Kendree in 1808, and that of George and
Roberts in 1816. I had the honor of voting for the last three, and never
had cause to regret it. These ordinations were all held in the same
church, namely, Light-street, Baltimore. After the adjournment of the
conference I returned to my district, and was diligent in cultivating
Immanuel’s land.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
BISHOP ASBURY—CHARACTER AND HABITS.
As I traveled with Bishop Asbury longer than any other man, and knew him
more intimately than any who survive, it will be expected that I notice
his character and habits more fully than in the preceding chapters.
Hundreds of questions have been asked me respecting his appearance, size,
dress, personal character, etc.
Bishop Asbury was five feet nine inches high, weighed one hundred and
fifty-one pounds, erect in person, and of a very commanding appearance.
His features were rugged, but his countenance was intelligent, though
time and care had furrowed it deep with wrinkles. His nose was prominent,
his mouth large, as if made on purpose to talk, and his eyes of a blueish
cast, and so keen that it seemed as if he could look right through a
person. He had a fine forehead, indicative of no ordinary brain, and
beautiful white locks, which hung about his brow and shoulders, and
added to his venerable appearance. There was as much native dignity
about him as any man I ever knew. He seemed born to sway others. There
was an austerity about his looks that was forbidding to those who were
unacquainted with him.
In dress he was a pattern of neatness and plainness. He could have passed
for a quaker had it not been for the color of his garments, which were
black when I traveled with him. He formerly wore gray clothes. He wore
a low-crowned, broad-brimmed hat, a frock coat, which was generally
buttoned up to the neck, with straight collar. He wore breeches or small
clothes, with leggings. Sometimes he wore shoe-buckles. Indeed all the
preachers, and I among the number, wore breeches and leggings till 1810,
and then several left them off, which Bishop Asbury heartily disapproved.
Bishop Asbury had great administrative ability. He was wise and
far-seeing, and kept his work planned and mapped out beforehand. The
mass of the appointments were arranged before conference, so that but
few changes needed to be made. He often talked to me freely about the
appointments of the preachers, and sometimes consulted me. I used
to transcribe them for him before they were read out. The preachers
tormented me to know where they were going; but I was silent, for secret
things belonged to the bishop, revealed things to the preachers.
He had an almost intuitive knowledge of men. He would sit in conference
and look from under his dark and heavy eyebrows, reading the countenances
and studying the character and constitution of the preachers. He also
kept a record of his observations upon men for his own private use. The
bishop not only read men for the sake of the Church, but for their own
sakes. He would say to me, “Henry, Brother A or B has been too long in
the rice plantation, or on the Peninsula; he looks pale, health begins
to decline; he must go up to the high lands.” The preacher would be
removed and know not the cause, and the next year come to conference with
health improved and constitution invigorated, and not know to whom he was
indebted for the change; for the bishop assigned few reasons, and made
but few explanations for his conduct.
It has been supposed that he was an inferior preacher, though superior as
a governor. But this is a mistake. I have heard him over fifteen hundred
times. His sermons were scripturally rich. He was a well-instructed
scribe, “bringing out of his treasury things new and old.” He was a good
expounder of the word of God, giving the meaning of the writer, the mind
of the Spirit. He was wise in his selection of texts. There was a rich
variety in his sermons. No tedious sameness; no repeating old stale
truths. He could be a son of thunder or consolation. There was variety
both in matter and manner. He was great at camp-meetings, on funeral
occasions, and at ordinations. I have heard him preach fifty ordination
sermons, and they were among the most impressive I have ever heard.
In preaching he depended, like the fathers, much on the divine
influence. He knew it was “not by might or power, but by the Spirit of
the Lord.” He once took hold of the arm of Rev. Samuel Thomas, when he
rose in the pulpit to preach, and whispered to him, “Feel for the power,
feel for the power, brother.” He often felt for the power himself, and
when he obtained it he was a kind of moral Samson. When he did not he was
like Samson shorn of his strength.
Speaking of his preaching in his journal, he characterized it according
to the influence that accompanied the word. He would say “he was much
assisted;” at another time, “had some life;” again, “found himself much
shut up,” “had some liberty in speaking,” “I was assisted in preaching,”
“had enlargement of heart,” “I had the presence of God in speaking,” “had
an open time,” “a flat time,” “but little liberty,” “I had not freedom,”
“had a feeling time,” “I had great assistance,” “I had some light in
preaching,” “had but little life in speaking,” “had a melting time.”
I am a witness to the struggles, the sighs, the tears, the prayers of
Bishop Asbury for divine influence, that he might wield with success the
sword of the Spirit.
The bishop was peculiar in adapting his subjects to times and
circumstances. When with him in Kentucky in 1810 there was a great
drouth, and Father Asbury preached from, “If the Lord shut up the
heavens that it rain not,” etc. Again, when showers were descending, he
preached from, “As the rain cometh down from heaven,” etc. To a company
of women, he preached on the “duties of women professing godliness,” or
“Mary has chosen that good part.” To soldiers, “And the soldiers came and
inquired, And what shall we do?” etc. Preaching in a court-house, where
there were lawyers and judges, and where one man had just been sentenced
to death, he dwelt upon the solemnities of the final judgment—the court
from which there was no appeal—from “knowing therefore the terror of the
Lord, we persuade men,” etc. At a certain place where he was expected
they announced him in the newspapers to preach on a special subject.
He knew nothing of it before his arrival, and that was just before the
service commenced. To their astonishment he read this text, “I speak not
by commandment, but by reason _of the forwardness of others_, and to
prove the sincerity of your love.” I was often startled, when I heard him
read his text and announce his theme, at his power of adaptation.
The bishop’s lectures in families were full of instruction. He would
dwell upon the domestic relations, that of husband and wife, parents and
children, and the duties they owed to each other; on their deportment to
each other and to their neighbors, and duty of exemplifying the Christian
character throughout; on family prayer, order, and cleanliness; which he
always recommended as “next to godliness.” Indeed the bishop was “instant
in season and out of season.” Like his Master, he “went about doing
good,” and lost no opportunity to benefit his race. I am sure he will get
one blessing if no other: “Blessed are they that sow beside all waters.”
In his public exercises—in preaching, in administering the ordinances,
in ordaining—there was a peculiar solemnity. Those who heard him never
forgot it. But sometimes in private circles he would unbend, and relate
amusing incidents and laugh most heartily. He said “if he was as grave
as Bishop M’Kendree he should live but a short time.” He would often
indulge in a vein of innocent pleasantry. When engaged in business or
study, however, he did not like to be interrupted, and he would sometimes
appear a little short; and we cannot wonder when we remember the many
interruptions to which he was subject.
He was fond of singing. He had a full base or organ-like voice, and would
often set the tune in public worship, for choristers and choirs were
scarce in those days; but if the people did not sing scientifically they
sang in the spirit. The bishop sang as he walked the floor, and this he
often did when in deep meditation. He was a great admirer of Charles
Wesley’s hymns, and not only loved to sing them, but esteemed them highly
as a body of divinity.
He diligently read the Bible. He was in the practice of reading on
the Sabbath the message to the seven Churches of Asia. He said it was
revealed and written on the Lord’s day, and it gave excellent counsel to
the Churches. Stimulated by his example, I have been in the practice of
doing the same thing for over fifty years. He was one of the best readers
of the Scriptures I ever heard. There was solemnity and dignity in his
manner, and correctness in his emphasis and accents.
He was often very laconic in his replies. In 1808, while traveling with
him, in company with John Sale, in Ohio, we were just entering the
prairies when we met a gentleman who abruptly inquired of the bishop,
“Where are you from?” Mr. Asbury replied, “From Boston, New York,
Philadelphia, Baltimore, or almost any place you please.” This was
literally true. The man looked astonished and rode on, while Brother Sale
and I smiled, but neither spoke, and the bishop was silent, and onward we
pursued our journey.
He was a great redeemer of time. He knew its value, its brevity, its
relation to eternity, therefore he kept that rule in the Discipline,
“Be diligent; never be triflingly employed.” He was a great scholar
considering he was a self-taught man. He read Hebrew, and his Hebrew
Bible was his constant companion. The bishop read a great many books
while I was with him. The moment we were in the house, after having laid
aside his saddle-bags and greeted the family, then he began to read and
write.
Asbury studied medicine, which was a necessity both for his own benefit
and that of others. He traveled in unsettled parts of the country, where
the people were often sick, and medical aid at a great distance. He was
often very successful in removing pain and healing diseases; sometimes
he would doctor the landlords where we were entertained, for which he
received many thanks.
He was remarkable for his temperate habits. One day a lady set a brandy
bottle on the table, and he gave her a gentle reproof. Said she, “Bishop,
it is good in its place.” He removed it from the table and placed it in
an old-fashioned cupboard, and closing the door, said, “Now it is in its
place; let it remain there.” Although a man of great courage, there were,
he said, “two classes of men that he was afraid of: crazy men and drunken
ones.”
As we traveled on horseback we had to be careful not to be overburdened.
The bishop used to say that the equipment of a Methodist minister
consisted of a horse, saddle and bridle, one suit of clothes, a watch,
a pocket Bible, and a hymn book. Anything else would be an incumbrance.
I assure the reader our saddle-bags were stuffed full of clothing,
medicine, books, journal, etc.; it was astonishing how much we could
crowd into them. He used to say, “Henry, we must study what we can do
without.” My old saddle-bags, on which I rode so many thousand miles
with the bishop, I have carefully preserved. I think as much of them as
the returned soldier does of his arms, which he has no more use for, but
which remind him of former battles and victories. It used to be said that
“Methodist ministers kept house in their saddle-bags.”
Mr. Asbury’s powers of endurance were great. If they had not been he
would have fallen long before he did. Winter’s cold and summer’s heat he
could endure. He was not afraid to set out in a storm, but would say,
“Let us journey on, we are neither sugar nor salt; there is no danger of
our melting.” And yet I have no doubt but these exposures did his feeble
constitution a vast injury.
He married a great many. Multitudes were baptized by him. In 1811, when
traveling with him near Xenia, Ohio, we were kindly entertained by a
family named Simpson, and Bishop Asbury baptized a little infant and
called him Matthew. I little thought that infant, when grown to manhood,
would become a bishop. His fame is now world-wide, and his praise in all
our Churches. He dedicated many churches. Some were completed, some half
done, and some had not the roof on. Some of them were called after his
name. He did not approve of this, and called it folly; neither did Mr.
Wesley like to have any building named after him. He drew up many plans
for houses of worship, and in some instances secured sites for them. He
was ever intent on good, and very solicitous that we should “stretch
ourselves beyond ourselves.”
The bishop was very fond of children, and they of him. They would run to
meet him and then receive his blessing; they gathered around his knees
and listened to his conversation. He would sometimes place them on his
knee, and teach them the following lesson:
“Learn to read, and learn to pray;
Learn to work, and learn to obey.”
Then he would show the benefit of learning these lessons. “Learn to read,
to make you wise; learn to pray, to make you good; learn to work, to get
your living; learn to obey, that you may be obeyed.” One day we were
approaching a house, and a little boy saw us coming. He ran in and said,
“Mother, I want my face washed and a clean apron on, for Bishop Asbury
is coming, and I am sure he will hug me up.” The bishop loved to hug the
children to his heart, which always beat with such pure affection toward
them. In this respect he strikingly resembled his Master, and was a fine
model for ministers to follow.
His conversational powers were great. He was full of interesting
anecdotes, and could entertain people for hours. He could make himself
at home in a splendid mansion or in the humblest cottage. His powers of
observation were great; nothing escaped the notice of his piercing eye.
He would refer to incidents that occurred when he passed through certain
places such a year, and the changes that had taken place during his
absence.
At times he appeared unsociable, for his mind was engrossed with his
work. When traveling from Wilmington, North Carolina, in 1809, we came
near a pond. As we rode along nothing had been said for some time by
either of us. The frogs were croaking, but as they heard the sound of our
horses’ feet they were still. I said, “Mr. Asbury, you see the very frogs
respect us, for they manifest it by their silence.” Mr. Asbury laughed,
and said, “O Henry, you are full of pleasantry.” And the reverie being
broken, he was very sociable as we rode along, and his conversation was
full of interest. My object was to break the spell, and I succeeded.
He was very fond of horses, which he generally petted, and had names
for them. One he sold to Bishop Whatcoat he called “Brunswick.” Another
was “Jane;” she was as fleet as a deer. Another was “Fox;” he was as
cunning as his namesake, and a most beautiful animal. He took the bishop
over the ground with great ease and rapidity; but he had one prominent
failing, he would get frightened occasionally and start and run, and as
the bishop did not consider him safe he disposed of him. The horses
frequently broke down by such extensive traveling, and the bishop parted
with them with a sigh, and sometimes with a tear. When we parted with one
in Wyoming the bishop said, “He whickered after us; it went right through
my heart.” The bishop was a good rider, and he looked well on horseback.
When we remember how many thousands of miles he traveled on horseback
annually we cannot wonder at this, if there is any truth in that old
adage, “practice makes perfect.” He always preferred riding on horseback,
but there were times when he was so infirm he was obliged to ride in a
buggy.
Bishop Asbury had his favorite stopping places where he felt the most
at home: among others, at Governor Bassett’s, of Dover, Delaware; Mrs.
Dickins’s, Baltimore; Harry Gough’s, Perry Hall; Mrs. Mills’s, Widow
Grice’s, and George Suckley’s, New York City; Bishop Sherwood’s, Governor
Van Cortland’s, Freeborn Garrettson’s, Rhinebeck; Father Bemis’s, at
Waltham; Father and Mother Boehm’s; John Renshall’s and Thomas Cooper’s,
Pittsburgh; further west, Dr. Tiffin’s, Governor Worthington’s, Philip
Gatch’s, Peter Pelham’s, White Brown’s; in the South, General Rumph’s,
James Rembert’s, and others. Many others might be named, but space fails.
These homes were indeed the pilgrim’s rest. They were like an oasis in
the desert. What hearty greetings and welcomes have I seen the bishop
receive. But the reader must not infer he always put up in palaces.
Cottages, log-houses, huts, dirt, filth, fleas, bed-bugs, hard beds,
hard fare, these the bishop was familiar with, and so was his traveling
companion.
The bishop was often in perils: perils on the land, perils on the water,
perils among false brethren. I have often wondered that he was not
suddenly removed when I think of the many hairbreadth escapes he had.
We often rode at night over rough stony roads and stumps, where it was
exceedingly dangerous; sometimes on the side of a mountain near a river,
under such circumstances that a few feet, or even a few inches, would
have been sudden destruction; sometimes when it was so dark I had to go
before to feel the way and lead the horse. Several times he was in danger
by his horses running away, or by their sudden starting, then by the
upsetting of his carriage. This happened several times and in dangerous
places, and yet he was almost miraculously preserved; not a bone was
broken. He was often in danger in crossing the rivers and streams, to say
nothing of swimming horses or crossing over on logs and trees, where, if
he fell off, he would be greatly injured, but particularly in crossing
the ferries. He often crossed in “old flats,” and “scows,” and canoes,
with horses, and sometimes wagons. Many of these boats were old and
leaky, and sometimes poorly manned, and at other times unmanageable. We
often waited for hours, and even days, at a ferry. The streams would be
swollen and dangerous, and we had to wait till the water fell. When we
remember that the bishop crossed the highest mountains, the widest and
most rapid rivers, at all seasons of the year, we can estimate the danger
to which he was exposed. Twice he was in great danger of being drowned.
But he hardly mentions the perils to which he was exposed. None of these
things moved him, neither counted he his life dear unto him, so that he
might finish his course with joy, and the ministry which he had received
of the Lord Jesus to testify the Gospel of the grace of God.
Bishop Asbury has been represented as rough, unfeeling, harsh, and
stoical. Those who make such assertions are entirely ignorant of his
character, and do great injustice to one of the noblest men that ever
blessed the Church or the world. I grant he had rather a rough exterior,
that he was sometimes stern; but under that roughness and sternness of
manner beat a heart as feeling as ever dwelt in human bosom. The bishop
was “born to command,” and he had a commanding way with him; but he was
as far from being a tyrant as possible, and yet I have heard him accused
of tyranny by those who never knew him. If he injured the feelings of a
brother he would encircle him in his arms and ask his forgiveness. Here
was true manliness, genuine greatness, real dignity. This I have known
him to do to a brother when convinced he was in error.
Bishop Asbury stoical! See his sympathy for the suffering. Look at him
with his mite subscription—always heading it himself—to raise money
for necessitous cases among the preachers; see him wandering among the
tombs and weeping at the graves of his friends; visiting the widow and
the fatherless and weeping with them, and commending the one to the
widow’s husband, the other to the orphan’s father. He used frequently to
mention his mother, and as he did so the tear would fill his blue eye.
At one time he thought of her coming to America, but concluded it would
not be best. His correspondence with her was very frequent. Out of his
small salary he sent money to supply the wants of his parents before his
father died, and then afterward to his mother when she was left a widow.
In a letter to his mother he says, “My salary is £14 10s. sterling,
[sixty-four dollars.] I have sold my watch and library, and would sell
my shirt before you should want.” He added, “The contents of a small
saddle-bag will do for me, and one coat a year.” He also made arrangement
with Richard Whatcoat that if he died first Mr. Whatcoat was to see the
wants of Mrs. Asbury supplied. What an example of filial regard!
There are many reasons why he did not marry; he has assigned them in
his journal; but he always believed every man should support one woman.
He maintained his mother while she lived, and then the widow of John
Dickins. He not only supported Mrs. Dickins while he lived, but left
provision in his will that she be paid eighty dollars a year till her
death. This sum I paid her annually, as his executor, till she died.
It is needless to say that Bishop Asbury was a true patriot. Though he
loved the land of his birth, yet he loved most ardently the land of
his adoption. He showed this by remaining here when the other English
preachers returned home. He loved Washington and the constitution of this
country. When I was with him in Canada he said to me, “England always
had the wrong foot foremost in regard to America.” This country is under
great obligations to Francis Asbury: he accomplished for her a mighty
work, and yet not one of our historians name him.
The bishop was well known on most of the great thoroughfares in the
country, and to most of the landlords and public houses. They seemed to
reverence his age, his office, and his character. On one of his western
tours we came to a small tavern where there was quite a gathering.
The company were noisy and profane, and it seemed as if we should get
no sleep that night. When the hour came at which the bishop wished
to retire, he went to the landlord and proposed having prayer. The
landlord said, “My house is at your service, sir.” Then the bishop said,
“Gentlemen, we are going to have prayer, and should be happy if you would
join us.” His manner, as well as his patriarchal appearance, pleased
them; and after prayer they soon retired, and left us to sleep sweetly
till morning undisturbed. This had a better effect than severe reproof.
Indeed it was reproof of the most effectual kind.
The bishop was a man of universal philanthropy. Wherever there was a
door open for doing good he entered it. Passing through Ohio, we came to
a place where the cow of a widow woman was about to be sold for debt.
The bishop’s heart was touched, and he was determined the widow’s cow
should not be sold. He said, “It must not be;” and giving something
himself, he solicited money from others who were present, till in a few
minutes sufficient was raised to satisfy the claim against her. The widow
expressed her gratitude not only with words but tears as she started to
drive her cow home. I have named this to show what kind of a heart beat
in his bosom; that, like his Master, he went about doing good.
His benevolence was unbounded; selfishness had no place in his soul.
He would divide his last dollar with a Methodist preacher. He had
considerable money given him. Brother Rembert, at Black River settlement,
South Carolina, frequently gave him one hundred dollars, and others gave
him considerable sums. He was restless till it was gone, so anxious was
he to do good with it. I was the treasurer. He would give most of it away
at the next conference for the most necessitous cases, reserving only
enough for our traveling expenses.
Bishop Asbury felt a deep interest in the welfare of the preachers,
many of whom in those days received but a miserable pittance for their
support. While I was with him he started the “mite subscription.”
For this he collected during his tours and carried the money to the
conference, to be distributed among the most necessitous cases. His last
“mite subscription” list is now before me. The preface, which is printed,
sets forth that “some of the annual conferences pay but thirty-one
dollars to the unmarried and sixty-two to the married preachers, and
the children are generally excluded from receiving anything in the
settlement.” Can we wonder that under such circumstances so many of our
early preachers located, and their services were in great measure lost
to the Church? This document is dated April 1, 1815, and signed Francis
Asbury. His name and that of his last traveling companion are found in
the list of subscribers, which contains the autographs of some of the
prominent men and women of Methodism in that day, as well as many persons
who were not connected with our Church. Among others are those of Richard
Channing Moore, bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church in Virginia;
General Pierre Van Cortlandt, of New York; Governors Worthington and
Tiffin, of Ohio. The latest names on the list were from Richmond,
Virginia, where the bishop preached his last sermon.[44]
Of the moneys he collected that year he paid to the New York Conference
$135 99, and the receipt is in the book of the conference stewards,
signed Samuel Merwin, Phineas Rice, and Thomas Drummond. The receipt
of $50 27 from the mite subscription, and the donation of one hundred
dollars, which was paid over by J. W. Bond, is acknowledged by Daniel
Filmore, John Lindsay, and Jacob Sanborn, stewards of the New England
Conference, on June 2, 1815. A note is added, that the New England
Conference “not being able to raise the salaries of the preachers,” paid
“only thirty-one dollars to the single and sixty-two to the married
preachers, and children in proportion.”
Marcus Lindsey, John Dew, and Thomas D. Porter, of the Ohio Conference,
acknowledged the receipt of $192 from the mite subscription this year.
They also record “that all the children of the married traveling
preachers who received nothing from the districts or circuits, received
ten dollars apiece from Bishop Asbury’s Mite Subscription.” The salaries
in this conference were better than in the East, for the single preachers
received sixty-nine dollars and the married one hundred and thirty-eight.
The stewards of Tennessee Conference gave, on October 27, their receipt
for $267 06 “from the mite subscription,” and added that the married
preachers received one hundred and ten dollars and the single fifty-five;
and that the mite subscription for the benefit of the children, being
one hundred dollars, enabled them to give ten dollars to each child.
According to this, all the children of Methodist preachers in the
Tennessee Conference in 1815 numbered but ten.
The last receipt is that of the Virginia Conference, for the sum of $95
31. This conference met in January, 1816, and was the last that Bishop
Asbury attended. He was then reduced almost to a skeleton, and in about
two months after he ended both his labor and his life.
Thank God, a brighter day has since dawned on the Church; and though our
ministers have even now no superabundance of this world’s goods, it is at
least no longer needful that our bishops should beg from house to house
to collect “mites” that the preachers might be able to keep soul and body
together.
The bishop had commenced his “mite subscription” for the next year with
enlarged views. The prelude, which is dated January 1, 1816, and signed
Francis Asbury, sets forth that the design was not only to equalize
the salaries of the preachers, to relieve the most necessitous, and to
provide for the children, but also “to enable us to send out German,
French, and Spanish missionaries.” This was years before the formation of
our Missionary Society. Like John Wesley, Bishop Asbury was constantly in
advance of his age.
For five years I not only traveled with the venerable Asbury, but slept
with him.[45] When he was quite ill I would wrap myself in my blanket
and lie down on the floor beside the bed and watch till I heard him call
“Henry,” and then I would rise and minister to his wants. Being so feeble
he needed a great deal of attention. Many times have I taken him from his
horse and carried him in my arms into private houses and meeting-houses,
where he would sit down, and expound the word of life to the astonishment
of all who heard him. I also carried him from the houses and placed him
upon his horse. He often preached sitting down, not so much in imitation
of his Lord, but because he was unable to stand up.
Bishop Asbury possessed more deadness to the world, more of a
self-sacrificing spirit, more of the spirit of prayer,[46] of Christian
enterprise, of labor, and of benevolence, than any other man I ever
knew. He was the most unselfish being I was ever acquainted with. Bishop
Whatcoat I loved, Bishop M’Kendree I admired, Bishop Asbury I venerated.
CHAPTER XL.
DEATH OF JESSE LEE—HIS CHARACTER.
During the summer of 1816 I held several camp-meetings that were greatly
honored of God. The fourth was in Hillsborough, Maryland. It commenced
the 22d of August. Jesse Lee preached the second sermon from 1 Peter ii,
5, on the lively stones and the spiritual house. I wrote: “He preached
with life and power, and many of the people were much refreshed and built
up in the faith of the Gospel.” Some of his illustrations were very
quaint. He said, “If you cannot be a stone in the building you may be
a nail to hold on a shingle.” He preached again on “Grow in grace.” In
announcing his subject he said, “In the last verse of the last chapter
of the last Epistle of Peter you may find my text, and this may be my
last sermon.” And so it proved. That voice which had rung through so many
groves, offering salvation to the lost, was then heard for the last time.
He who introduced camp-meetings into the East fell at one of them sword
in hand. He had been taken sick the day before, and he suffered much
while delivering this his last message. After preaching he was removed
to the house of Brother Henry D. Sellers, brother-in-law of Bishop
Emory.[47] Brother Sellers and his wife were at this time summoned to
Baltimore to see a son who was very sick. They reluctantly left home when
Brother Lee was so ill, but yielded to the prior claims of a dying son.
They left word to have everything possible done for the comfort of the
sick man. While absent they buried their son, and when they returned home
found Jesse Lee in his grave.
The camp-meeting was one of great power and interest. God honored his
word, and a great number believed and turned to the Lord. On Tuesday we
parted till we pitch our tents in the groves of Paradise. Then I went to
attend to our beloved Brother Lee.
Before he left Annapolis Mr. Lee knocked off a little skin from his leg.
He thought nothing of it at the time, but it became inflamed, and he had
quite a fever. He grew worse and worse till mortification took place,
and death came to his relief. On Tuesday, at 10 o’clock, while we were
praying with him, the room was filled with glory. He was graciously
visited by the Lord, and broke out in ecstacies, “Glory, Glory, Jesus
reigns! heaven is just before me!”
The next day he was “filled with the Spirit,” so that he shouted the
praises of God. He had said but little during the early part of his
sickness; but now heaven was opened and glory revealed. All present were
deeply affected, and felt it a hallowed place. He suffered intensely, but
grace triumphed over pain of body.
On Wednesday strong symptoms of dissolution appeared, and the doctor was
frank and told him he might not live twelve hours. This did not at all
alarm him. He shouted aloud the praises of God, and deliberately set his
house in order. He wished me to write to his brother Ned, and tell him he
“died happy.” He also said, “Give my respects to Bishop M’Kendree; tell
him that I die in love with all the preachers, and that he lives in my
heart.” Then he bade all present farewell and requested us to pray. We
did so. It was a solemn hour and place. On Thursday he lost the power of
speech, but retained his reason and gave signs that all was well. In the
evening, at half past seven, the great and good man fell asleep.
I watched over him nearly two weeks; he would not allow me to leave him.
I went down stairs to shave one day, and he was very uneasy, and sent two
or three messengers for me before I could finish. He had an idea that no
other person could do as well for him, therefore he constantly looked for
me. I hardly took off my clothes day or night for nearly two weeks, he
needed such constant attention. The family being absent, the great care
fell upon me. He said to me, “Brother Boehm, when I die I wish you to
close my eyes.” I did so. I placed the muffler about his face and laid
him out, and put his shroud upon him. I helped place him in his coffin,
then committed his remains to the grave, and performed the funeral
service. We buried him in the family burying-ground of Father Henry Downs.
Two days after, while I was absent, some brethren came from Baltimore and
disinterred the remains and removed them to that city, and laid him to
rest in the old Methodist burying-ground. He was taken sick the 24th of
August, and died the 12th of September, 1816.
I complied with his dying request, sending his final messages to those he
loved. I wrote to his brother Edward, (father of Rev. Leroy M. Lee,) who
lived at Petersburgh, and gave him the particulars of Jesse’s illness and
death. I also wrote to Bishop M’Kendree, giving him the message of the
dying minister as well as the particulars of his last sickness and death.
This account was given in Jesse Lee’s obituary in the Minutes, with my
name connected with it. In Dr. Bangs’s History of Methodism, and Leroy
M. Lee’s life of his uncle, my name is omitted. They could have had no
correct description of his last days and hours unless I had furnished it.
I must conclude this chapter by noticing his character. My own opinion
is that injustice has been done to the name and fame of Jesse Lee. I was
acquainted with him for many years. He was at my father’s in 1799. I saw
him at the General Conference of 1800, 1808, and 1812; also at the Annual
Conferences and at camp-meetings. Mr. Lee was one of the most efficient
and useful men we ever had. Like Paul, he was “in labors more abundant.”
He was shrewd, witty, and ready at repartee. There are those who think
he was nothing but a bundle of fun; that this was the element in which
he moved; and that he considered a rich joke a means of grace. Such have
altogether mistaken his character. Mr. Lee had a rich vein of spiritual
wit, he had a keen sense of the ludicrous, he knew how to answer a fool
according to his folly; but he made his wit subservient to the cause
of truth and to silence cavilers. He had “higher excellences than wit,
holier instincts than mirth.” He made great sacrifices, and devoted his
life to the promotion of the cause of truth.
Jesse Lee was an excellent preacher. I must have heard him thirty times.
He exhibited great wisdom in the selection of his texts. In General and
Annual Conferences he was a prominent man. He was an able debater, and
those who encountered him found they were grappling with a giant. At the
General Conference of 1800 he came near being elected bishop. He was
worthy of the episcopal office, and doubtless would have filled it with
honor to himself and benefit to the Church. Some one told him he would
have been elected if he had been sufficiently grave. Said he, “Would it
not have been premature to assume the gravity of the office previous to
my election?”
As the apostle of Methodism in the East he can never be forgotten.
He was the pioneer of a noble army of Methodist preachers who have
revolutionized New England and New England theology. All over its hills
and valleys he has written his name in characters that will be read by
succeeding generations until the end of time. As the first historian
of American Methodism he will ever be remembered. His work is valuable
as a repository of facts to which his successors have all been largely
indebted. He achieved many triumphs, but the greatest of all was his
victory over “the last enemy.”
“Servant of God, well done!
Thy glorious warfare’s past;
The battle’s fought, the race is won,
And thou art crowned at last.”
CHAPTER XLI.
CHESAPEAKE DISTRICT—TOURS WITH BISHOPS GEORGE AND M’KENDREE.
At the conference held in Philadelphia in April, 1817, I was appointed
presiding elder of Chesapeake District.
It was my privilege to take short tours with other bishops besides
Asbury. Bishop M’Kendree was always a great friend of mine, and at his
request I went with him several times to visit the Churches.
On the 30th of June we went to Wilmington, Delaware; from that to
Chestertown, where he preached on Sunday from Jer. v, 25. At Centerville
he preached from Isaiah lxvi, 3-5, “He that killeth an ox is as if he
slew a man,” etc. It was a most singular text, but he showed himself
a workman in its exposition. He dwelt upon man’s agency and his
responsibility, thus clearing the eternal throne and justifying the ways
of God to man. Both Asbury and M’Kendree frequently took long texts.
Their preaching was generally of the expository kind; they never took
a text for a motto. From thence we went to Baltimore, and visited the
Churches, and I heard him preach in Light-street, Oldtown, and Eutaw.
After spending fifteen days with the bishop, I returned to my district
and held several camp-meetings. The first was in Camden, in July. The
converts were numerous, and at the close of the meeting I baptized one
hundred. In those days we not only cut down the grain, but we shocked up
immediately. Three meetings at other places followed in quick succession,
so that we held four camp-meetings in less than a month.
In October, at the request of Bishop George, I took a ministerial tour
with him. He preached on Thursday at Salem from Isaiah xl, 31, on waiting
on the Lord and its advantages; a theme that well suited him. On Friday
he preached at Asbury Chapel, and on Saturday at Union, from Psalm xxxiv,
19, on the afflictions of the righteous and their deliverance. It was a
sermon full of consolation. On Sunday he preached from Matt. xxv, 29, on
the measure of man’s responsibility, and the next day on watching, from
Luke xxi, 36; on Tuesday in Wesley Chapel, Dover, from John ii, 17; on
Wednesday at Barratt’s Chapel, from 1 Peter i, 5; on Thursday at Milford,
from 1 Peter iii, 15; on Sunday at Johnstown, from 1 Cor. vi, 19, 20; on
Monday at Concord, from John xii, 26; and on Tuesday at the Line Chapel,
from 2 Cor. vi, 2.
Then we went to Snow Hill and were the guests of Samuel Porter, father
of John S. Porter, D.D. Bishop George preached here on Sunday from Eph.
iii, 20, 21, “Now unto Him that is able to do exceeding abundantly,”
etc. This glorious doxology he expounded in a manner delightfully sweet.
Thence we went to Potato Neck and put up with Francis Waters, father
of Dr. Waters, and Mrs. Freeborn Garrettson, of Rhinebeck. At Princess
Anne the bishop preached on “patient continuance in well doing;” and
on Sunday, at Salisbury, from 1 John v, 4, on Faith and its victories.
Thence we went to Cambridge, where we both preached, and were kindly
entertained by Dr. Edward White. At Easton, the bishop preached on
“the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,” and next day, at
the Trappe, from 1 Thess. v, 6, “Therefore let us not sleep,” etc. On
Saturday and Sunday we held a quarterly meeting at St. Michael’s. We had
a charming love-feast, after which the bishop preached from John v, 6,
“Wilt thou be made whole?” On Tuesday he preached at Centreville from
John v, 36.
Next Saturday we held a quarterly meeting at Hynson’s Chapel. There was
a serious difficulty between some of the official men and the society
about temporal matters. There had been a trial before a committee, which
resulted very unsatisfactorily, and they had appealed to the Quarterly
Conference, and if its decision did not please them they threatened to go
to law. The bishop, who was a great peacemaker, got the parties together
and reasoned with them. He wept, and so did they. There were mutual
confessions, and they asked forgiveness of each other. The difficulty
from which we had so much to fear was settled honorably and forever. His
visit to that part of the Peninsula was made a great blessing, for “Zion
became a quiet habitation.” On Sunday morning we had a love-feast indeed,
after which the bishop preached from Hosea xiv, 9, “Who is wise, and he
shall understand these things,” etc.
Reluctantly I parted with the much-loved superintendent after spending
six weeks with him, enjoying his society every day and listening to
twenty sermons from him, besides exhortations and lectures in societies
and families. I traveled with him through the heart of the Peninsula, and
was with him from the 25th of October till the 5th of December. It was
his first tour through the Peninsula, and everywhere he was hailed with
joy as a worthy successor of the apostolic Asbury.
Bishop George was a short, stout man. His chest was large, and this
enabled him to speak so easily. His face was bronzed, owing to exposure;
but it was intelligent, and expressive of benignity. His dress was
plain and careless, and his hair was coarse and thick and parted in the
middle. He had quite a patriarchal appearance. His voice was peculiar for
strength and melody. As a preacher, he was surpassingly eloquent. He had
unusual power over his audience, and he took them captive at his will.
At times he was perfectly irresistible. He was well acquainted with the
springs of the human heart, and knew how to touch them. I must have heard
him preach fifty times. It is probable there is not a man living who has
heard him as often as myself.
As a presiding officer he did not excel. He had not the administrative
talents of Asbury, M’Kendree, or Roberts. He was a good companion where
he was well acquainted, full of anecdotes; but he was diffident and
avoided company, and had a perfect abhorrence of being questioned. He
was very powerful in prayer. He would rise in the night, and putting his
cloak around him, spend whole hours on his knees wrestling with the angel
of the covenant.
He would never permit any to take his likeness; he said “he did not like
to have his image sold for three cents when he was dead and gone.” He
died suddenly at Staunton, Virginia, August 23, 1828. It is as true of
him as of the patriarch, whose name he bore, he “walked with God, and was
not, for God took him.”
This year, 1818, was in many respects the most memorable year of my life.
Not believing in the celibacy of the clergy, on the 15th of January I was
married to Sarah Hill, the step-daughter of Thomas Dodson. He resided
in Kent County, Maryland, below Chestertown. He had been a traveling
preacher for some years, but had located. She was a most estimable
woman, and I found her a helpmeet indeed. We had four children, who are
all living. My wife died in holy triumph the 26th of August, 1853, and
was buried in the church-yard at Woodrow, Staten Island, where I expect
soon to sleep myself. Her memoir was written by the Rev. Joseph Holdich,
who had been well acquainted with her from the time he entered the
traveling connection in 1822 to the close of her pilgrimage.
On the 22d of April, 1818, our conference was held in Philadelphia.
Bishops George and Roberts were both present. I was reappointed to the
Chesapeake District. It was a year of great prosperity. I have a record
of every day. We had powerful camp and quarterly meetings, which were
greatly honored of God, and multitudes were converted. I traveled this
year two thousand six hundred miles to preach the glorious Gospel of the
blessed God.
CHAPTER XLII.
DELAWARE DISTRICT, 1819-21—THOMAS AND EDWARD WHITE—JOSHUA THOMAS—CIRCUITS.
In 1819 our conference commenced its session in Philadelphia on the
19th of April. Bishop Roberts presided. Bishop M’Kendree was too ill to
attend. During the session Bishop Roberts dedicated the Ebenezer Church.
I was appointed to the Delaware District. William Bishop was my
predecessor. He was an odd, eccentric man, the Billy Hibbard of the
Philadelphia Conference. When he rose to speak in conference the
brethren would smile in advance, expecting some strokes of wit or
shrewd expression. In representing a brother on his district he said,
“He appears to be tired of everything but rest.” The character of the
brother was so well known, and the hit so capital, that the whole
conference was convulsed with laughter. However, he was a good preacher,
and, notwithstanding his eccentricities, had the confidence of his
superintendents and of his brethren in the ministry.
Delaware District included much of the ground I had traveled years
before. Many camp-meetings were held this year. I can name but one. It
was held on the Tangier Islands the last week of August. I went with
Francis Watters in his boat. We preached one sermon, and then we had the
most awful storm I ever beheld. The island was bleak, the waves dashed
against it, and the winds blew over it. The tents were blown down and
trees were prostrated; the water rose to a prodigious height, and we
feared the island would be submerged. Notwithstanding the storm, many
were converted to God.
In 1820 our conference was held in Smyrna, Delaware, commencing on April
12. Bishop George presided. On Sunday he preached an ordination sermon
from Phil. iii, 13, 14, on the course Paul pursued to obtain the prize.
The unction of the mighty one rested on him and his audience.
Four were received into full connection: Charles Pitman, James Long,
Samuel Grace, and William Wright. Brother Long was a simple-hearted
Irishman, who preached the pure Gospel. Charles Pitman had a noble frame,
a massive brow, an expressive eye, and a voice as deep-toned as an organ.
No man ever did more for Methodism in New Jersey than he. Bishop Hedding,
no mean judge, considered him the greatest pulpit orator he had ever
heard.
We held several camp-meetings this year. One was at the Tangier Islands.
The weather was fine, contrasting agreeably with the terrible storm we
had the year before.
In April, 1821, our conference met in Milford, Delaware, where I was
residing. Bishop George, Freeborn Garrettson, and Ezekiel Cooper were my
guests. When dining one day Mr. Garrettson inquired, “Where did you find
this little woman?” speaking of Mrs. Boehm. I answered, “On the Eastern
Shore of Maryland.” He smiled and seemed to be much pleased, as it was
the scene of his early trials and triumphs.
I was reappointed to the Delaware District. We this year held another
camp-meeting on the Tangier Islands, which was even more successful than
the preceding ones.
Thomas and Edward White are names very dear to American Methodists.
Thomas has a conspicuous place in the early annals of our Church, while
Edward’s name is scarcely known, and yet he was in Christ before his
uncle, and was the cause of his uniting with the Methodists.
Dr. EDWARD WHITE formerly lived in Kent County, Maryland, near his
Uncle Thomas, but he removed to Cambridge, Maryland, in 1799. I became
acquainted with in 1800, and for years his house was my home. He was my
physician in sickness, my counselor in perplexity, my faithful friend.
Bishop Asbury loved him tenderly, called him “Dear Edward White,” and
says “he had known and followed the Methodists since 1778.” He was much
beloved and esteemed, a pillar in our Church, and his house was a home
for all the bishops and all the ministers of Jesus. He was a large fleshy
man, with a good understanding and an intelligent countenance. His wife
was a most estimable woman.
He was the means of leading Joseph Everett to the Methodists. Everett
joined the Philadelphia Conference in 1781, and was a mighty man in our
Israel. He went from Dr. White’s to travel, and when he broke down he
returned to the doctor’s to spend the evening of life and to die. There
I used to see the old soldier and hear him talk of former conflicts and
triumphs. His first circuit was Dorchester, and in Dorchester he died.
The last time I was at Dr. White’s was in 1822. He was then “in age and
feebleness extreme.” The strong man was bowing himself. He went years ago
to join Asbury and Everett and his Uncle Thomas, “where no friend goes
out or enemy comes in.”
JOSHUA THOMAS resided on one of the Tangier Islands, (a group in
Chesapeake Bay,) and was called “The Parson of the Islands.” He was a
local preacher, a man of great notoriety and influence, especially among
the Islanders. I was acquainted with him several years, having been to
his island home and sailed with him in his boat, which he called “The
Methodist.”
I often met him at camp and quarterly meetings, and heard him preach and
exhort and relate his Christian experience with great effect. He was
perfectly artless, a child of nature. He never tried to be anybody but
Joshua Thomas.
During the war with England, in 1812, twelve thousand British soldiers
encamped on Joshua’s island. Both the officers and men admired him, and
called him “Parson Thomas.”
He raised vegetables on the Island and fished in the waters of the
Chesapeake. He had an impediment in his speech. He told me that when
the British fleet lay in the Bay the officers sent for him on board the
admiral’s ship. They had heard he stuttered when talking on worldly
business and not when he was preaching, and they did not believe this
could be possible. He did not know why they had sent for him, but he
obeyed the summons and was taken on board the admiral’s ship and into
the cabin, where he saw the officers of several ships. They said they
wished him to preach to them. He was perfectly astonished, but believing
it his duty to be “instant in season and out of season,” he took his
text and commenced his discourse. He was a little embarrassed at first,
and stated that he was unlearned and they were men of cultivated minds;
but as he proceeded he gathered confidence and strength, and preached to
them just as he would have done to the sinners on the islands. He showed
them that notwithstanding their learning, talents, and position, if they
neglected the condition of salvation they would be lost and damned with
common sinners, and find one common hell. He did not stutter once while
he delivered his faithful message, and the officers listened to him with
great attention.
At the conclusion of the discourse one of the officers inquired,
“Parson Thomas, can you tell us for what reason President Madison
declared war against England?” Then he stuttered exceedingly, and
it was some time before he could get the answer out. He began,
“Tut—tut—tut—tut—tut-tut-tut,” and after various efforts said, “I was not
in his cabinet, and therefore I cannot answer.”
The following incidents will still further illustrate his influence
with the British officers. Some of the soldiers were cutting down some
large pine trees which furnished a beautiful shade, under which large
camp-meetings had been held. Parson Thomas went to the commanding
officer, told him what the soldiers were doing, and expostulated against
it. He said that grove was their house of worship, and to destroy the
trees was to destroy God’s house. His appeal was irresistible. The trees
were spared, and for years the grove continued to be a place of worship.
Just before the British made their attack on Baltimore, Parson Thomas, at
their request, preached to them on the island. He was as true a patriot
as Joshua of old, whose name he bore. He gave the following account of
the sermon he preached: The old camp-ground was the center of the British
camp. The soldiers were drawn up in solid column under the pine trees.
Mr. Thomas occupied a stand; all the soldiers were before him, and on
his right and left were the British officers. He determined to clear his
skirts of their blood; if they wished to hear him they should have a
faithful warning. He did not know but his plainness might give offense
and cause him to fall a sacrifice. Singing and prayer, however, quieted
his fears, and put his soul in frame for the occasion. He faithfully
warned the British of the unholiness of their cause, of the wickedness of
killing their fellow-men. He told them he had heard they were going to
Baltimore to take that city; but, said he, “you cannot take Baltimore;
if you attempt to you will not succeed; and you had better prepare to
die.” Both officers and soldiers were very attentive. They admired his
patriotism, his honesty, his simplicity. Soon after that memorable
meeting the British made their attack on Baltimore, and Parson Thomas’s
prediction was fulfilled to the letter.
As he saw the British returning, Parson Thomas went down to the shore to
meet them, and the first inquiry he made of the officers was, “Have you
taken Baltimore?” They mournfully answered, “No. It turned out just as
you told us the Sunday before we left. The battle was bloody. Hundreds of
our men were slain, our general also; and all the time we were fighting
in the field we thought of what you told us, ‘You cannot take Baltimore.’”
Here we see the true character of the man. Though he did not possess the
talents, he had the boldness of Luther or John Knox; and such was his
good common sense and his simplicity of character that he retained the
confidence of the British while they continued on the island.
I must abridge my narrative or it will swell to volumes. In 1823 I was
on Lancaster Circuit. Joseph Holdich was my colleague. It was his first
circuit. He was young but studious, and then gave promise of the future
man. My mother died in November of that year, and was buried beside my
father. I was returned to the circuit the following year.
In 1824-5 I was upon old Chester Circuit; in 1826-7, Strasburgh; in
1828-9, Burlington Circuit, N. J. Rev. Charles Pitman was my presiding
elder. He was then in the days of his glory. In 1830-31 I was at
Pemberton; in 1832, at Bargaintown; in 1833, at Tuckerton; in 1834, New
Egypt; in 1835-6 I had the whole of Staten Island for my circuit. For
fourteen years I was on circuits after I left the districts. I have a
full record of men, and thrilling scenes, and glorious revivals, but have
not space even to name my colleagues or their characteristics.
Methodism was introduced into Staten Island very early by Francis
Asbury, before he preached in New York. I was with him on the island
in 1809. When I was stationed on Staten Island there were two hundred
and seventy-eight members; now there are one thousand one hundred and
forty-nine, and instead of one preacher we have seven. Having been many
years in the work, at the close of the two years on Staten Island I took
a supernumerary relation. I bought me a little place on the island, where
I lived for many years, till death invaded my dwelling and laid my loved
one low. In 1837 the Philadelphia Conference was divided and I fell
into the New Jersey, and then by a subsequent division into the Newark
Conference.
I have preached in all parts of the island; have married many, and buried
many of the dead. In great harmony I have lived with all the friends of
Jesus. I was a member of the General Conference in 1832, and was present
at the memorable conference in 1844 when our Church was divided. I had
much to do with laying the foundation of German Methodism in New York.
By both preachers and the laity I have ever been treated with the utmost
kindness. Many of them I should like to notice but have no space, but
their names are in the book of life.
CHAPTER XLIII.
LAST VISIT TO MY NATIVE PLACE—WESTERN TOUR.
Many years had passed away since I had seen the home of my childhood, and
my advanced age admonish me that I must do so soon or never. On February
15, 1856, I left my home on Staten Island and went to Pemberton, N. J.
For four years Pemberton was my residence. I was glad to see my old
friends, and preached for them twice. Thence I went to Mount Holly, a
place of rare beauty. Here lived my old friend, Judge Monroe, father of
Rev. Samuel Y. Monroe, D.D.
Reaching Camden, I found it greatly changed since I first saw it. Then
there was only a ferry-house, now a large city with three flourishing
Methodist Churches. A few years ago I preached the half century sermon of
the introduction of Methodism in Camden. By request it was published.
I hastened on to Lancaster, where I was heartily welcomed by John Boehm’s
widow. He was my nephew, and yet we were about the same age, were
converted at the same time, and were life-time friends. He did much for
Methodism in Lancaster and Lancaster County. I spent several weeks in the
vicinity visiting old friends and preaching the Gospel. There was quite
a contrast to the state of things in 1805, when I preached there on a
butcher’s block in the market.
To my great joy I found Philip Benedict and his wife living. It was in
their house I formed the first class in 1807. We talked over the early
struggles and triumphs of Methodism in Lancaster. He was eighty-four
years old, his wife about the same age. The Church in Lancaster is
greatly indebted to this old patriarch and his excellent wife.
I went to Little Britain, twenty-two miles from Lancaster, celebrated as
the birthplace of Robert Fulton. The old homestead where he was born was
still standing. What gave it additional interest to me was, that there,
in 1814, I formed the first Methodist class in the town. We have now a
fine society and a beautiful church edifice.
I went to Columbia, and was the guest of Abraham Brunner, son of Owen.
Here I met Alfred Cookman, who had married into the family, and his
children are the fifth generation that I have preached to in this family.
I went to the old Boehm’s Chapel and the old house where I was born. My
eye lighted upon the place in the gallery where in 1798 I gave my heart
to God. Well did I exclaim,
“O happy day, that fixed my choice
On thee, my Saviour and my God,” etc.
What sermons had I heard in that chapel! The venerable forms of Asbury,
Whatcoat, M’Kendree, and others I had heard preach came up before me. It
was Easter Sabbath, and I preached on the resurrection of Jesus. It was
forty-four years that day since my father died. From the window I could
see his grave and those of my mother and the other loved ones. My mind
went forward to the time when the sleepers should awake at the sound of
the trump and rise to life immortal.
My feelings well nigh overcame me. The friends of my youth were gone.
There were none of my name remaining in that neighborhood. Generations
had passed away, new ones had risen that knew me not. I wandered
among the tombs in the old burying ground, then bade adieu to the old
grave-yard, to the old chapel, to the old homestead, hallowed by so many
pleasing recollections, exclaiming,
“Farewell to the home of my birth,
To the scenes which I cannot but love,
To the nearest and dearest on earth,
Till we meet in the mansions above.”
On my return I visited the Philadelphia Conference, then sitting in
Trinity Church, Philadelphia. I had not attended it for twenty years,
and had long desired to see it once more. Bishop Waugh presided, and at
his request I made an address. I contrasted the past with the present.
I told them not one remained who had belonged to the conference when I
joined it. I always loved the Philadelphia Conference: within its bounds
I was born, converted, licensed to preach, and ordained; with them I
had spent my youth and the prime of my manhood; here I had toiled the
hardest and had the greatest success; here were the scenes of my trials
and triumphs, and within its bounds I was married and my children born. I
never belonged to any other, the New Jersey and Newark Conferences being
portions of the Philadelphia Conference when I joined it. I bade farewell
to the Philadelphia brethren and returned to my island home after an
absence of two months.
On my return home I attended the New Jersey Conference in Broad-street
Chapel, Newark. How strangely this magnificent edifice contrasted with
Boehm’s Chapel! and what a change in Newark since I visited it with
Bishop Asbury in 1809, when we had no house of worship there, and Richard
Leaycraft, who had moved from New York, was the only one to entertain the
itinerants!
Having relatives in Ohio whom I had not seen for nearly half a century, I
concluded, though over fourscore, to visit them. In January, 1859, I went
to Baltimore, where I had not been for forty-two years. We received a
hearty welcome from Dr. Roberts, the distinguished Methodist antiquarian
and father of the Methodist Historical Society. Multitudes are the relics
he has preserved, which will enrich the history of our Church in future
years.
Most of my old friends in Baltimore were dead; only a few recognized
me. I went to Mount Olivet Cemetery, where sleep the remains of Bishops
Asbury, George, Emory, and Waugh. Standing by the grave of the first the
image of the patriarch came up before me, and I vainly attempted to keep
back the tears that rolled down my cheeks. The other bishops also I had
known intimately. Two of them were much younger than myself, and I was
present when they were received into the conference.
My next visit was to “Pilgrim’s Rest,” to see my old friend and brother,
the Rev. Henry Smith. We had known each other half a century. He was one
of the purest and best men that I ever knew. I had a charming visit with
him, and when reviewing the past we lived over a great many years in a
few hours. He was over ninety, and had been in the ministry sixty-five
years. We prayed and wept together, and then we parted to meet in the
“Pilgrim’s Rest” on the other side of Jordan. He has since entered there.
Leaving Baltimore for Ohio, we crossed the Potomac at Harper’s Ferry
and then went over the Alleghanies. Rushing over in the cars was very
different from the slow manner Bishop Asbury and I crawled over them
forty-seven years before. I could not help wondering what the bishop
would think if he could return and go over them as we do now, the
contrast is so great in ease, comfort, and saving of time. Towns,
cities, and states have been born since that time we went to Zanesville.
Cincinnati was so changed that I could scarcely recognize in the Queen
City of the West the little village I had visited nearly fifty years
before; but when I beheld the Licking River everything came to my mind,
and I began to feel quite at home. When with Bishop Asbury we put up with
Brother Lines, an excellent local preacher. I was pleased to see two of
his daughters, Mrs. Widow Smith and the wife of Doctor Phillips. Edward
Sargent, son of my old friend, Rev. Thomas F. Sargent, M.D., married a
daughter of Widow Smith. In the society of these friends I took great
delight.
Not only had the city grown immensely, but Methodism also. At the time of
my former visit there was only one Methodist church edifice, “The Stone
Chapel;” that had given way to a noble structure, “Wesley Chapel,” and
had become also the mother of a large and healthy family of children,
most of them named after bishops or other prominent ministers, as Asbury
Chapel, M’Kendree, Morris, Raper, Christie, Finlay, etc. Then the large
Book Concern with its _Western Christian Advocate_, _Ladies’ Repository_,
and other widely circulated publications. But what filled me with the
greatest delight, and made my old soul rejoice with exceeding joy, was to
behold what God had done for the Germans. I found four German Methodist
Churches in Cincinnati, with several hundred members; also a German
newspaper, the _Christian Apologist_, one of the most able papers I have
ever read, and edited by that great and good man, Dr. Nast, and a long
list of books and tracts in the German language. What a change since
1807, when I had the Methodist Discipline translated into German, and
1808, when I preached the first Methodist sermon in German in Cincinnati,
and when Bishop Asbury and I had two tracts printed in the German
language, that we scattered over the mountains and valleys as we rode
round his large diocese!
A German love-feast was held in order that I might hear in my mother
tongue the wonderful work that God had wrought. Several hundred
were present, including members from all the German churches. Their
testimonies were thrilling, and their singing exquisite. They sung as Mr.
Wesley said, “lustily.” At the conclusion of a glorious love-feast, Dr.
Nast said, “We will sing Martin Luther’s Hymn, tune Old Hundred,” and
then they sung as I never heard it before that good old doxology, “Praise
God, from whom all blessings flow,” etc.
I had a delightful interview with Judge M’Lean, one of our noblest men, a
spiritual son of John Collins. He remembered hearing me preach in Lebanon
in 1810. It was with deep regret that I afterward heard of his death. He
left a pure record both as a man and a statesman.
I went to Dayton, which was a small place when I was there before, but
has now thirty thousand inhabitants. The “United Brethren in Christ” have
a publishing house here. When I entered their building and looked upon
the wall I saw a portrait of my father. I had not seen it in fifty years,
nor did I know it had been preserved, or that there was an image of him
in existence. There he was with his German visage, his gray locks and
venerable beard. It was a very good likeness, painted by a German artist
for my nephew, Martin Boehm, who carried it West when he removed to Ohio.
At his death it was presented to “The United Brethren in Christ,” who
were glad to get such a relic to adorn the walls of their publishing
house. Here also I saw an excellent likeness of Father Otterbein.
I visited my relative, Samuel Binkley, who formerly lived near my
father’s. Here a cane was presented to me that I highly prize on account
of its historic associations, for it originally belonged to Father
Otterbein, who gave it to Bishop Asbury; the bishop gave it to Samuel
Binkley, and he presented it to my daughter.
After my return home I again visited the West, and spent a year in
Cincinnati. I preached before the conference in Xenia, and was present
at the marriage of General Grant’s sister in Covington, Kentucky, to a
German preacher stationed in Cincinnati.
In May, 1800, I was present at the General Conference in Baltimore;
in May, 1864, I attended the General Conference in Union Church,
Philadelphia. With perhaps two exceptions, Drs. C. Elliott and G. Peck,
all the delegates to the latter body were born during the intervening
period; and the senior bishop, Thomas A. Morris, was, in 1800, a
prattling boy of five years. I rejoiced that God had raised up so many
strong men to be pillars in the Church. Some were from the further West,
California, Oregon, and regions which in my early days were almost a
_terra incognita_, and were uninhabited except by wandering tribes of
Indians. The bishops and members seemed to regard me as an old Methodist
patriarch, and honored me with a seat on the platform.
The nation was then struggling for life, having to contend both with
open enemies and secret foes. But a more loyal body than the men
who represented the Church in that conference never assembled. What
interested me most, however, was the fraternal interchange of delegates
between our General Conference and that of the African Methodist
Episcopal Church, which was sitting in Philadelphia at the same time.
The colored delegates were received by our conference on May 13, and
delivered addresses that would have done honor to men of any land. The
utmost enthusiasm prevailed, and the Union Church rang with shouts
of applause. At the conclusion of one of the most thrilling scenes
ever witnessed I was honored with delivering an address, of which the
following report appeared in the _Daily Advocate_ of May 14:
“Mr. President, I thought it was but proper that I should express some of
my feelings and recollections as appropriate to this occasion. It fell
to my lot to have charge of this district in 1813 and 1814. It was then
called the Schuylkill District, and embraced the whole region between
the Delaware and the Susquehanna Rivers, including Wilmington, and north
by the mountains. During that period Robert R. Roberts, afterward Bishop
Roberts, was stationed at St. George’s, and John Emory, afterward Bishop
Emory, at this church. During these two years, in either 1813 or 1814,
he would not be positive which, the separation of the colored brethren
took place. There was some friction between the founder of the present
African Methodist Episcopal Church and us, and they drew off. But it was
prudently managed, and they passed quietly off. We feared then that it
was an unfortunate change; but I confess to you that my heart has been
touched. I have been very much affected in hearing our colored brethren
testify here, and state their influence and progress. I admire the
providence of God in this instance. We then considered it an unfortunate
case; but God has overruled it, and I hope he will continue to overrule
it and superintend it, and that it will react and spread its evangelizing
and saving influence south and south-west, and all over the world. God
grant that this may be the case. [Numerous responses of Amen.] I thought
it would be appropriate for me to express my feelings thus, and I rejoice
and give glory to God for his goodness and his power.”
“The venerable patriarch sat down with swimming eyes, while many in
the audience wept with sympathy and joy. It is certainly a singular
coincidence that the man who was the Church officer charged with the
administration of the Discipline upon this district when the founders
of the African Methodist Episcopal Church withdrew from our connection,
previous to organizing their own, should, after a period of at least
fifty years, be present to witness the first fraternal reception of their
official representatives by the General Conference of the Methodist
Episcopal Church, and that assembled in the Union Church, Philadelphia,
the very scene of the events of half a century ago.”
I cannot refrain from referring to the amazing growth of our Church since
the period when I joined it. We had then in America two hundred and
sixty-six traveling preachers, and sixty-five thousand nine hundred and
eighty members. Church edifices were scarce, and parsonages comparatively
unknown. We had no colleges or seminaries; no Biblical Institutes,
no periodicals, and were almost without a literature; indeed wholly
so, except a Hymn Book, Discipline, and a few tracts and other small
publications. Now we have nearly seven thousand traveling preachers, and
more than nine hundred thousand church members, (besides those in the
South,) with over ten thousand church edifices, and nearly three thousand
parsonages. Our numerous colleges and other institutions of learning, and
the extended operations of our Book Concerns in the East and the West,
bear witness to the success with which we have labored in the cause of
education and religious literature.
In some matters I cannot but think that, as a Church, we have
retrograded. The people and preachers in that day were patterns of
plainness; we conform more to the world, and have lost much of the spirit
of self-denial they possessed. Our fathers paid great attention to Church
discipline, and their preaching was more direct; they aimed at the heart,
and looked for more immediate results than we of the present day.
But if there are some things to lament, there is much that calls for
gratitude. If we remain true to Methodism, “walking by the same rule and
minding the same things” our fathers did, then our future will be grand
and glorious as the past, and the result such as to meet the expectations
of the most ardent among us.
And now, having seen what great things God has done for us as a Church,
and the salvation which he has wrought out for us as a nation in the
overthrow of the great rebellion, I feel like saying with Simeon of old,
“Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.” On this side the
river I patiently wait till the Master shall bid me pass over Jordan and
rejoin the sainted Asbury and other of my fellow-laborers and companions
in tribulation who have preceded me to the climes of bliss.
“My old companions in distress
I haste again to see,
And eager long for my release
And full felicity:
Even now by faith I join my hands
With those that went before,
And greet the blood-besprinkled bands
On the eternal shore.”
THE END
CHAPTER XLIV.
HISTORY AND NATURE OF FATHER BOEHM’S REMINISCENCES—THE LAST TEN YEARS OF
HIS LIFE.
Father Boehm’s valuable life has been marvelously prolonged to such a
very old age that he is now regarded every-where, in Europe and America,
as the patriarch of Methodism, and so many interests cluster around the
aged veteran that we add a few chapters to his Reminiscences.
There are several classes of men. There are those who live wholly in the
past, others live wholly in the present, and others wholly in the future.
These are all in the wrong.
The man who lives with an eye on the past, the present, and the future;
who looks backward, and forward, and around him; who makes the past
tell on the present, the present on the future—he is the live man; he
understands the true philosophy of life; he will accomplish the most
good, and secure the greatest happiness. The inspired penman says:
“Inquire, I pray thee, of the former age, and prepare thyself to the
search of their fathers: (for we are but of yesterday, and know nothing:)
... shall not they teach thee, and tell thee, and utter words out of
their heart?”
The reader will readily see why we add a few chapters to the original
volume. “Boehm’s Reminiscences, Historical and Biographical,” is one of
the richest volumes in Methodist literature. It is remarkable, first, for
the antiquity of its contents, taking us back to the origin of American
Methodism: second, for its originality; the old gentleman drew upon his
own resources; there has never been any thing like it, and it is doubtful
whether there ever will be again; in it he testifies what he has seen and
heard, and he has seen much, for he has lived a great many years: third,
for the description he gives of men and things, and the simplicity of its
style: fourth, for its facts; he never gives wings to his imagination;
on the contrary, he deals in sober history and truthful biography. Had
it been written in another style it would not have been his, for he is a
plain, matter-of-fact man; he stated truth in its simplest form, without
any embellishment.
In his volume there are no false colorings, no exaggerations; it is
true to nature and true to life. All honor to the truthful veteran who
introduces to us so many of the heroes of Methodism, whose names and fame
are immortal! He presents before his readers Robert Strawbridge, the
apostle of Methodism in Maryland; Dr. Thomas Coke, the founder of modern
missions, whose heart was large enough to hold four continents, and who
found a grave in the Indian Ocean; what a graphic description he gives
of Jesse Lee, the apostle of Methodism to New England, and the first
historian of American Methodism! We hear him preach his last sermons,
and these were delivered in God’s great cathedral—nature’s magnificent
temple; we are taken into the chamber of the dying saint; we see Father
Boehm wetting the parched lips of the dying hero, smoothing his pillow
of agony, speaking words of cheer; we see him kneel down by his bedside
and commend the dying one to Him who is “the resurrection and the life;”
we hear a shout of joy from the dying one; we see him as his breath
grows shorter and shorter, till he heaves one long, deep-drawn sigh, and
all is over; we see Boehm with his own hands close his eyes and put the
muffler around his face; we see the open grave, and Father Boehm laying
him quietly to rest. Sleepless nights, restless days, watching, waiting,
trembling, hoping, till all was over. What affection, what care, what
solicitude, what unwavering faith, what ardent love!
He introduces us to Bishop Whatcoat, that seraphic man. We have a
description of his person, of his preaching, of his last sickness, and
his triumphant death. He gives the best description of Bishop Asbury ever
written; and no man ever knew him better, for he was with him in the
closest intimacy for five years. We have a description of his person,
his dress. We have Asbury in the family, Asbury in the pulpit, Asbury in
the conferences, Asbury among friends, Asbury among strangers, Asbury
among the children. He describes so vividly the bishop’s sermons and
exhortations we imagine we see and are listening to the great apostle of
American Methodism. O how graphic is Boehm’s description of Bishop Asbury!
In regard to the volume, let me say, it was prepared with the greatest
care. For years we were employed on it at different intervals. We took
his own journals and read them carefully; then we read Asbury’s journals
to refresh his mind; then we questioned him concerning men and places,
and in regard to General and Annual Conferences. We took down, from his
“own lips,” anecdotes and incidents till we were sure there was not one
left. The work was complete; it was finished; the stock was exhausted.
Not an original idea but we had obtained, not an anecdote but we have
recorded it. We never stopped pumping till the water was out of the well.
There is no chance to glean over the fields we passed over, for we not
only gathered the grain, but we gleaned as we went along. We never could
get the old veteran to say what he did not distinctly remember. We might
ask him over and over again, “Did not such a thing take place? Were you
not there?” “_I do not remember_,” was the emphatic answer. After the
chapters were written we read them over to him, and he appended the
following to each:—
“This chapter is correct. HENRY BOEHM.”
NOTE.—Each chapter was dated at the place where it was written.
Some were written in New York, others in Harlem, still others in
Yonkers, Poughkeepsie, and other places.
It is ten years since the first edition of this volume was published.
Since that time Father Boehm has enjoyed a peaceful old age. He has
visited an Annual Conference occasionally, where he has been an object of
great attention.
He visited his own Conference, Philadelphia, which he joined in 1801,
and his visit was as welcome as if he had been an angel from heaven.
Its members hung upon the lips of the old Methodist patriarch in silent
wonder as he described the fathers who had fallen asleep, and the early
days and scenes in which he was such a prominent actor, and then drew
a contrast between the past and present, showing how Methodism had
advanced. He was an object of great interest at the great Centenary
Meeting in the city of New York, at Cooper Institute, in October 1866,
Daniel Ross, Esq., presiding. Rev. Thomas Sewall, D.D., delivered one
of the most eloquent addresses I ever listened to. The venerable Boehm
was on the platform, and his appearance gave additional charm to the
intensely interesting meeting. In the midst of his address, replete
with beauty, abounding in historical reminiscences, the speaker turned
to Father Boehm, and delivered a personal address to him. He said: “We
thank you, venerable father, for lingering so long among us to cheer us
by your presence, your example, and for giving us so many interesting
reminiscences of the past. Thou art a representative of the former age of
Methodism—thou art a splendid representative of the fathers. Venerable
man, friend of Coke and Asbury, Whatcoat and M’Kendree, we thank you for
your presence here; you are the great link that connects the past with
the present.”
After invoking many blessings on his head, and a glorious future, he
concluded his address of beauty, eloquence, and power, one that will not
soon be forgotten. Now his voice is silent in death.
Father Boehm has of late years led such a quiet life that there are
few additional reminiscences, or anecdotes to record. He is a grand
specimen of religion in old age. His days glide on, calm and peaceful
as a summer evening. The autumn of life is peculiarly beautiful in him.
It is charming to see grace thrive, when nature decays; while the outer
man is perishing, to see the inner man renewed day by day in vigor, in
knowledge, and in joy. It is delightful to see his fading eye brighten
at the promise, “Where I am, there shall also my servant be;” to see his
aged, wrinkled countenance glow with seraphic beauty.
Happy, happy old man! splendid specimen of the venerated fathers. He has
“fought the good fight,” he has “kept the faith,” and will soon “finish
his course.” The past, the present, and the future smile upon him. It
will soon be said concerning him:—
“Servant of God, well done!
Thy glorious warfare’s past;
The battle’s fought, the race is won,
And thou art crown’d at last.”
CHAPTER XLV.
ENTRANCE UPON HIS ONE HUNDREDTH YEAR.
The following description of the celebration of Father Boehm’s entrance
upon his one hundredth year appeared in the _Christian Advocate_, and
was copied into many religious journals, not only in America but also in
Europe, showing the intense interest that clusters around the hero of a
hundred years and the hero of a hundred battles:—
Father Henry Boehm, the old Methodist patriarch, entered upon his one
hundredth year June 8, 1874, and the wonderful event was celebrated on
Tuesday in Jersey City, at the residence of his son-in-law, Mr. Emley.
A number of friends honored him with their presence. It was to the old
patriarch quite a surprise. A good supper was provided, with abundance of
the delicacies of the season. There was a centenary cake, having on it
the figures 1775 and 1874. Flowers of rare beauty and odor were presented
to him, and he made a most appropriate reply. On one of the floral
offerings, beautifully inwrought in green, were these figures, “99.” The
patriarch’s wrinkled countenance was wreathed with smiles; he looked as
placid as a summer’s evening, and seemed to have “renewed his youth like
the eagle’s.”
Dr. J. B. Wakeley was spokesman for the occasion, and delivered the
following congratulatory address. He concluded by dwelling upon the
character and labors of Bishop Asbury, and surprised Father Boehm by
presenting him with a beautiful likeness of the bishop. Father Boehm
took it, looked at it, and said, “Well done!” and then he made a
characteristic reply. It was one of those rare occasions that seldom
occur in one’s life-time, and can never be forgotten.
ADDRESS TO FATHER BOEHM.
VENERABLE PATRIARCH: This is an auspicious day and a joyful
occasion that has summoned us together; we have met to celebrate
the almost one hundredth anniversary of your birthday.
Ninety-nine years ago, the eighth day of June, in the town of
Conestoga, Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, a child was born, and
they called him “Henry.” Few of those who then looked upon that
little infant suspected that he would live to celebrate his one
hundredth birthday. Venerable man! with your whitened locks, your
wrinkled face, you stand before us a representative of the past;
you connect us with ages and generations long since passed away.
We congratulate you on having been born in June, not only the
loveliest month of the year, but also the birth-month of many
distinguished statesmen and holy ministers of the Gospel. Your
father, Martin Boehm, the friend of Bishop Asbury and of the
“great Otterbein,” was a noble man, and your mother a noble
woman. What a eulogium did Bishop Asbury, in preaching your
father’s funeral sermon, pronounce on him!
We congratulate you on having been born so early. You are older
than our Republic—even than the Methodist Episcopal Church, in
its present organic form. When you were born “The Declaration
of Independence” was not written. George Washington was then
forty-three years old, a man comparatively unknown to fame; Henry
Clay was not born till two years after; and Daniel Webster and
John C. Calhoun not till seven years after. The year of your
birth was fourteen years before that in which Washington was
inaugurated President of the United States, nine years before
the Methodist Episcopal Church was organized, sixteen years
before the death of John Wesley, and thirteen years before that
of Charles Wesley, the sweet singer of our Methodist Israel.
Then Philadelphia, New York, Baltimore, and Boston, now imperial
cities, were the merest villages. States as large as empires have
been born during your life-time, and kingly cities have sprung
into existence. “The wilderness and the solitary place” have been
made glad, and “the desert” has rejoiced and blossomed “as the
rose.”
There were then no steamboats, no railroads, no telegraphs even
on the land, to say nothing of ocean telegraphs. Now we travel
by steam, do our correspondence by lightning, and take life-like
portraits by sunbeams. We whisper here, and they hear us in
London, and answer back; and we cross the Atlantic with the
regularity of a ferry-boat.
How the world has moved since you came on the stage of action!
Continents have been explored, oceans and islands then unknown
have been visited, the source of the Nile has been discovered,
Egypt’s hieroglyphics have been deciphered, and Nineveh has had
a resurrection! Wonderfully has the world advanced in art, in
science, in discoveries, since you were born. It has made more
advancement during your life-time of ninety-nine years than in
any thousand years previous. The world moves; on its lofty banner
“Progress” is written in capital letters. Compare the world as
you saw it first, and as you behold it now, and how wonderful
the change! The world has also made advances in morals and in
religious enterprises. You were born forty-four years before we
had a Missionary Society, (it not being organized till 1819,) and
thirty-one years before the American Bible Society had a being.
We congratulate you on having witnessed the growth, not only of
our country, but also of that of American Methodism, until now it
numbers its millions. We congratulate you on having lived under
all the Presidents, from Washington to Grant, and on having lived
and known all the Bishops of the Methodist Episcopal Church,
from the first down to the last. We congratulate you on having
known the pioneers and founders of American Methodism: Robert
Strawbridge, the apostle of Methodism in Maryland; William
Watters, the first native Methodist preacher; and Philip Gatch,
and Benjamin Abbott, and Bishop Richard Whatcoat, who died on
your circuit, (Delaware,) where you heard his dying testimony.
You knew Jesse Lee, the apostle of Methodism in New England, the
first historian of American Methodism. You heard his last sermons
at a camp-meeting, where he was taken sick and died in 1816; you
heard his dying testimony, closed his eyes, and laid him quietly
to rest. We congratulate you on having heard the great orators
and preachers of early Methodism: Nicholas Snethen, Asbury’s
“silver trumpet;” Hope Hull, the silver-tongued; Samuel Parker,
the Cicero of the West; Leonard Castle, the Summerfield of the
Baltimore Conference; Henry Willis, Wilson Lee, and others.
We congratulate you on having been acquainted with the fathers
of the fathers of American Methodism. Strange as it may seem,
you knew the father of Bishop M’Kendree, James M’Kendree, and
have been his guest. You were acquainted with the father of Henry
Smith, who for a while was the oldest Methodist minister in the
world. You knew Judge Emory, the father of Bishop Emory; and the
father of Dr. Shadrick Bostwick, whom Bishop Hedding called a
“glorious man.” How this takes us back to the former age!
We congratulate you on having attended so many General and
Annual Conferences, where you became acquainted with the great
preachers of early Methodism. You attended the General Conference
in Baltimore in 1800, where you dined with Dr. Coke, heard
him preach, witnessed the election and ordination of Richard
Whatcoat, and the wonderful revival of religion, such as has
never occurred at any other General Conference; then the one in
1808, where you beheld the ordination of Bishop M’Kendree; you
were also at the first delegated General Conference, held in the
city of New York in 1812.
We congratulate you on attending so many camp-meetings in
different States, “for the groves were God’s first temples,”
and also on being acquainted with John M’Gee, the founder of
camp-meetings in America. What a privilege to attend these
meetings, and hear such sons of thunder as Bishops Asbury and
M’Kendree, Dr. Chandler, John Chalmers, John M’Claskey, Solomon
Sharp, and hundreds of others, immortal names that cannot die!
We congratulate you on being acquainted with the great laymen
and women who helped to give character and stability to early
Methodism.
We congratulate you on preaching in so many of the early chapels
of American Methodism. How those humble chapels contrast with the
beautiful edifices that are now being erected all over the land!
We congratulate you on being the intimate friend and traveling
companion of Bishop Asbury, the great apostle of American
Methodism. For five years you accompanied him around his large
diocese; you climbed the mountains with him; you forded the
rivers; you nursed him when sick; you carried him in your arms;
and such confidence did he repose in you that he made you one of
the executors of his last will and testament.
We thank you for your “Reminiscences, Historical and
Biographical,” which contain the purest history and the truest
biography; in which you give us the best portraiture of Bishop
Asbury that has ever been given. The Church will thank you
for those “Reminiscences” when the sun shines on your grave.
We congratulate you for being such an itinerant; on having
traveled over one hundred thousand miles on horseback to preach
the Gospel—more than sufficient to circumnavigate the globe
four times. We congratulate you on having been so happy in your
domestic relations. You had one of the best of wives; “her
children rise up and call her blessed, her husband also, and
he praiseth her.” You have been blessed with kind children.
Your daughter Elizabeth has been remarkably affectionate and
attentive, which must have been a great consolation to you as
time has shaken you by the hand, and the shadows of the evening
are gathering around you. We congratulate you for having kept up
with the times, and for feeling an interest in every thing that
is going on both in Church and State; for not only living, but
being a live man. We rejoice that you have been no croaker; that
you made no invidious comparisons between the present and the
former times. You have never inquired, “Why were the former times
better than the present?”
We thank you not only for living so long, but for living so
well. Your age is wonderful! Remember how much longer you have
lived than many whom the world called old men. Washington was
considered old when he died, and you are thirty-two years older
than was he. John Wesley is spoken of as aged, but you are
eleven years older than was John Wesley. Charles Wesley was also
considered old, but you are nineteen years older. Bishop Asbury
was considered old—you are twenty-eight years older than was
Bishop Asbury, thirty-two years older than was Bishop M’Kendree,
and forty-one years older than was Jesse Lee, when they severally
ended their lives.
We congratulate you on having been so long in the
_ministry—seventy-three years_; you are to-day the oldest
Methodist minister in America, if not in the world. Sir, all who
were in the ministerial work when you commenced have yielded
to the conqueror of conquerors! “The fathers, where are they?
and the prophets, do they live forever?” You can say as one of
old, “And I only am left alone to tell thee.” You stand alone,
occupying a position no man ever has, no man ever can. You have
seen what no other eyes can ever see; you have heard what no
other ears can ever hear. Yours has been a wonderful life, as
well as a long one; you are a history in yourself; you are a
splendid representative of the former generation of Methodist
ministers.
We congratulate you on having kept your garments so clean. For
over seventy years they have asked in conference: “Is there any
thing against Henry Boehm?” The answer has always been, “Nothing
against Henry Boehm.” Your hoary head is a crown of glory, being
found in the way of righteousness. May your sun go down without
a cloud, to rise in fairer heavens, and the twilight of your
evening melt away into the twilight of the morning of an eternal
day! May you be found among the number who, “having been wise,”
and “turned many to righteousness,” shall shine in brilliancy
that is cloudless and eternal! May you, when the voyage of life
is o’er, meet Wesley, Asbury, M’Kendree, and the multitude who
have gone before, where
... “all the ship’s company meet,
Who sailed with the Saviour beneath;
With shouting each other they greet,
And triumph o’er sorrow and death.”
CHAPTER XLVI.
INTERESTING PUBLIC SERVICE AT THE NEWARK ANNUAL CONFERENCE—FATHER BOEHM’S
CENTENNIAL SERMON.
Although Father Boehm had not quite completed his one hundredth year at
the time of the annual session of the Newark Conference, in the spring
of 1875, the members of the Conference earnestly desired to hear him
preach his centennial sermon. Accordingly a very interesting and unique
religious service was held in the Trinity Methodist Episcopal Church,
Jersey City, on Friday morning, April 2. At an early hour the church was
crowded to its utmost capacity, and hundreds of people vainly sought
admission within its walls. Among those present were Bishops Janes,
Ames, Bowman, Harris, and Wiley. A great number of preachers from other
neighboring Conferences were also present. After the regular order of
business of the Conference was finished, Bishop Bowman requested Bishop
Janes to preside at the centennial services.
The hymn commencing “A charge to keep I have” was sung, after which the
Rev. J. B. Wakeley, D.D., offered prayer.
OPENING ADDRESS OF BISHOP JANES.
Bishop Janes said:—
It has already been intimated in the prayer that this is an
unusual occasion. It is one of those occurrences where extremes
meet. We have been paying our tribute to the character and memory
of the youthful ministers who died in the service of the Church
and in the work of the pastorate. We expect to hear from the
oldest minister of our Church. I hope it may not be his final
message. I hope he may live to speak to us yet many times more
before he shall close his glorious career on earth. Nevertheless,
I presume none of us have ever heard a centennial sermon, and
none of us, in all probability, will ever hear another one. The
occasion, therefore, is novel, and I will add it is instructive
and impressive. I have seen the longest rivers, the highest
mountains, and the grandest cataracts of our wonderful country,
but in all that I have seen of the beauty and grandeur of nature,
I have never looked upon a physical object with so much interest
as I look upon this human form here this morning. A human
body so fearfully and wonderfully made, with so many and such
delicate connections, performing so many offices, subject to so
much exposure, to have been preserved for so many years in its
healthfulness and in all its beauty, is to me the most wonderful
physical object I have ever beheld. And then, it has been all
this while the tabernacle of a rational spirit, the instrument by
which that spirit has performed its wonderful works and secured
its wonderful results. Well may we say with the poet this morning:
“Strange that a harp of thousand strings
Should keep in tune so long.”
I have stood in the presence of kings and nobles, of scholars
and divines in other countries, but I never have felt in all
my experience such an interest and so profound a reverence as
I feel in the presence of revered and beloved father in God,
this aged servant of our Lord Jesus Christ. I revere him for
his personal worth, his strictly moral youth. Converted to
God in his early manhood, his life has been one of strict
consistency and of great purity from that time until the present.
It is forty-three years this month since I made his personal
acquaintance; and, having been intimate with him from that time
till now, I say in this presence I have never known a fellow-man
in whom there was so little moral infirmity even as in this our
father before us to-day. I venerate him for his associations. He
was associated with those names that are dearest to us in our
Church history—Asbury, Whatcoat, M’Kendree, Jesse Lee, Freeborn
Garrettson, and Nathan Bangs; names that we hold in the highest
regard; they were his associates. And then he has been associated
with a great multitude of godly men and women who have composed
our Church from that early period until now. What fellowships he
has enjoyed!
And I revere him for his works. He was in the early councils of
the Church. He helped to form the polity of our Church; he has
seen its wonderful workings until this hour, and he has really
witnessed the planting and growth of this branch of the Church
of our Lord Jesus Christ until this present time. His ministry
has been one of great excellence and of great usefulness, and
his example one of great power and of great benefit. We cannot
any of us look upon him but with the highest regard and with the
greatest reverence, and even with awe. Considering the length
of time when Enoch walked with God, which men then lived, and
the length of human life now, he has walked with God as long as
Enoch walked with God. And having been in these associations to
which I have referred, having been in this holy ministry all of
the nineteenth century—for I believe that is the fact—and having
been living all these years in fellowship with the divine and the
spiritual and the eternal, how sacred and grand and glorious is
his character. It will be an era in my history to hear from him
this morning, and I think it will be an incident in the life of
everyone here which they will carry with them in rememberance to
eternity. I pray that God may aid him in this effort, and that
God may sanctify this occasion to the religious profiting of
all of us who are permitted to enjoy it, both in the laity and
in the ministry. Before Father Boehm speaks to you, the pastor
of this Church will read the credentials that he has received,
giving the dates of his offices.
The Rev. John Atkinson read as follows:—
“To whom it may concern: This is to authorize Henry Boehm to
exercise the office of a preacher and travel Dorchester Circuit.
Thomas Ware. January 5, 1800.”
The document is excellently preserved.
“To whom it may concern: This is to authorize Henry Boehm to
exercise the office of exhorter in the Methodist Episcopal
Church. Given on the 16th of June, 1800, by Thomas Ware,
Presiding Elder.”
Brother Atkinson then spoke as follows:—
He was authorized to preach on the presiding elder’s own
authority, and sent to travel a circuit on January 5, 1800;
and after the case came before the Quarterly Conference, he
was licensed to exhort and travel the circuit. This [showing
the parchment] is his ordination parchment of deacon. It reads
a little differently from our parchments of to-day, though
very little. It is signed by Richard Whatcoat, and is dated at
Dock Creek, Del., May 4, 1803. This [showing the parchment]
is his parchment as elder, and reads thus: “Ordained elder by
Francis Asbury on the 5th day of May, in the year of our Lord
one thousand eight hundred and five. Done at the Philadelphia
Conference, held at Chestertown. FRANCIS ASBURY.”
I have been requested by Father Boehm to state that two weeks ago
he was very ill, and it was feared that he would not recover. I
was sent for in haste on that day to see him. I had great fears
that he would not be able to be here. God has raised him up, and
he is here to speak to us as he was requested to do at the last
session of our Conference.
The audience rose _en masse_ in token of respect to the venerable apostle
of Methodism, which added greatly to the impressiveness of the scene.
FATHER BOEHM’S SERMON.
The Rev. Henry Boehm then proceeded, amid profound silence, to speak as
follows:—
MY DEAR BRETHREN: I feel very dependent. I hope you will offer
me up in prayer before the Lord that he may graciously assist
me once more in proclaiming the precious truth. The passage of
Scripture to which I invite your attention you will find recorded
in Nahum, the first chapter and seventh verse: “The Lord is good,
a stronghold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that
trust in him.”
There is a little difference in the German in this text! The
beginning in the German reads, “Der Herr ist gietig,” the Lord
is munificent, freely distributing his blessings and goodness.
Now, then, to say that a person is munificent presupposes that he
is good, and goodness produces munificence. O what a wonderful
mercy-seat we have the privilege of approaching unto! The Lord
is munificent in distributing his blessings, in showering down
his goodness and mercy upon us. The Lord, then, is good. He
is good in his mercy. Benevolence, kindness, long suffering,
tender mercy, flow out through the mercy of God manifested to a
fallen world. Yes, brethren, but for the goodness of the Lord
where should we be? His goodness and mercy have spared us to the
present period, and we have the privilege now of approaching
to the mercy-seat in the name of Jesus Christ. The Lord is a
stronghold, a strong tower, a strong fortification. He that
entereth and dwelleth in this stronghold is safe in time of
trouble, in time of distress, in time of need. God is present
and ready to supply our wants. He is all-sufficient according
to our need. He knoweth them that trust in him. He owns them.
He acknowledges them to be his subjects, and to be influenced
by his Holy Spirit. Yes, brethren, the Lord knows them; he
dwells with them as such who trust in him, who walk in the light
of his countenance. O blessed be the name of the Lord that he
knows the heart and he looks upon the mind, the immortal mind!
If we sincerely look to him he owns and acknowledges us as his
own. He knoweth them that trust in him. Bless the Lord! O, the
goodness of God—his mercy and long suffering! I bless God for his
goodness that I realized in early life. Religion made my soul
happy then. It kept me from evil; it directed me in the path of
humble submission to the will of God, and it now in old age makes
me feel lively. It supports and comforts me, and when I look
forward to death I do not stop there. I look beyond it, and then
it is all light, all peace, and joy, and triumph. O, glory be to
God for his mercy and goodness in our privilege this day to meet
together for his worship, for his services, and for his praise!
Blessed be the name of the Lord! When I look at the changes—how
population has extended, how Methodism has followed up—I am
astonished. In 1809 I passed, with Bishop Asbury, through here
from Newark and crossed over to New York, and there was no town
here then at all—nothing but a ferry-house. What a change! Now
there are several thousand inhabitants, and the best of all is
the Lord is among the people, and many are happy in his salvation
and rejoice in his gracious presence. Blessed be the name of the
Lord! O what wonders hath God wrought! Newark was then a small
town. There were two rows of houses, I think, in Newark in 1809.
Now it has spread out into a large town. O may the Gospel go on
in its power and glory, that multitudes may bow to the scepter of
the Redeemer! and finally may we meet in heaven to rejoice in the
Lord for ever and ever! Amen.
The congregation united in singing,
“My latest sun is sinking fast.”
REMARKS OF BISHOP JANES.
DEAR FRIENDS: You will all of you remember the text, and the
sermon and the preacher. The text is one of the most sweet
and precious in the Holy Bible; the exposition of it has been
clear and forcible, though brief. To my mind the sermon has two
especial excellences: one is, it was preached, and not read! and
the other is that it was brief, and the preacher stopped when
he got done—a beautiful example to us in those two respects,
and I propose to profit by them. One of the most remarkable
things in the character and history of our Father Boehm is that
he has not reached his second childhood. He is just as manly as
he ever has been, in any period of his past history, and his
mental powers are preserved to him in their strength, in their
harmony, and in their adaptation to the office and work in which
he has spent his long and holy life. His physical strength is
lessened. The great probability is that we shall not have his
presence at a conference where most of us will be gathered again
in this world. He may attend other annual conferences with us,
but the most of this congregation, and probably some of these
ministers, will not be present; and it seems to us fitting that
he should now give us his benediction, and a few farewell words.
In 1832 Bishop M’Kendree came this side of the mountains for the
last time. He preached the sermon when I was ordained deacon.
Bishop Hedding ordained me, but he preached the sermon. He was
then quite as feeble as Brother Boehm is now. He went from the
Philadelphia Conference at Wilmington to the General Conference
which was held in Philadelphia. He assisted to some extent in the
services of that session. A little before its close, feeling his
infirmities and desiring to escape the excitement of the close of
the conference, he took occasion to bid the conference farewell.
He was assisted to the platform, where the bishops, secretaries,
and representatives of other conferences were sitting, and he
stood before them in all his patriarchal character, lifted up his
hands, and simply said to that General Conference of ministers,
“Little children, love one another,” bowed, and left the
platform, the conference rising as he retired, went to his home
in Nashville, and very soon died. Now if Father Boehm can say no
more words than those, let us have his benediction this morning.
FATHER BOEHM’S BENEDICTION.
Father Boehm responded thus:—
MY BELOVED BRETHREN: It is very probable this is the last time
I shall be with you at an annual conference. If it is, I hope
we shall meet up yonder when we go. I now take my leave of you,
and ask the Lord to bless you, and bless you abundantly. May
this year be a great year in the Newark Conference, as well as
throughout the land and throughout the world! The grace of our
Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy
Ghost, be with you all ever more. Amen.
The patriarch spoke distinctly throughout, and was heard without
difficulty in all parts of the church.
ADDRESS OF DR. DEEMS.
Dr. Deems was introduced and spoke as follows:—
MR. PRESIDENT, FATHERS AND BRETHREN, AND MOTHERS AND SISTERS: I
have come over to Jersey City this morning on a little private
anniversary of my own. I am not a hundred years old by a good
deal, but I have always really expected and hoped for the last
twenty-five years of my ministry to preach on my one hundredth
birthday, and I intend, God willing, to do it yet. Fathers and
brethren, it is just thirty-five years ago when you were good
enough, without seeing me, to take me into this conference as a
preacher. It was a great peril, but you took the risks. I had
preached on a circuit in New Jersey one year before I ever saw
this conference. Then I saw this body thirty-four years ago in
the city of Newark, and saw it to love it. At that time your
Bishop Janes was Secretary of the American Bible Society; and
somehow he seemed to have been born a bishop, because, ever since
I knew any thing about him, he has been sending men all about
the world. He picked me up off the hills of Warren County, and
sent me down into North Carolina as Agent of the American Bible
Society; and I have never seen the Newark Conference since until
to-day.
“What troubles have we seen!
What conflicts have we pass’d!
Fightings without, and fears within,
Since we assembled last!
But out of all the Lord
Hath brought us by his love.”
It is a peculiarly happy circumstance that after these
thirty-five years of ministry, in which I have been called to so
many various positions in the Church of God, in the Methodist
Church and elsewhere in the general work of Christianity, that I
come back to meet your conference under the presidency of an old
college-mate, always beloved from the days of our youth until
now, beloved over the storm of war, beloved over the field of
blood; and it is a happy thing that now I can be presented to you
by Bishop Janes, who, having picked me up and sent me away, I
determined that day, God willing, to help to make bishop; I fell
to work among the southern delegations when they were going up
to the General Conference, and when they came back they turned
to me and said, “Well, we have made your friend bishop;” and
the accounts were square. Now we owe nothing to one another,
bishop, but to love one another, and now we will see who will
pray best, quickest, fastest, richest, and be like our Lord, who
is munificent. I thank God that I am a preacher of the Gospel of
the Son of God. I thank God that with my advancing years I do
love the work of preaching and of the pastorate. I do thank God
that every week, more and more, without distinction of sect or
nationality or other difference, I do more and more deeply love
all that call and profess themselves Christians. I have no right
to detain you, Mr. President, fathers, and brethren, any further
with remarks of my own. Father Boehm hath seemed to come to say,
“farewell.” I have come to say, Hail, brethren, hail! O, my
brethren, life is full of these hails and farewells; but, blessed
be God! every time there is a “farewell” spoken it is followed
by a “hail.” As soon as Father Boehm shall say, “Farewell,
farewell,” to all these bishops, old and young, on earth, how
quickly thereafter he will say, “All hail! all hail!” to the
blessed bishops that have gone before him into the skies! When I
started this morning I told my family why I was coming; and it
is a rare thing for me to leave my work. I started with a sense
of joyousness and pleasure, but while I have been sitting at the
foot of this pulpit I had a sense of awe and humiliation. Since
I saw you last, brethren, I have had great opportunities, I have
had great positions of usefulness; I have had troops of friends;
I have had all that heart in this world could wish; I have had a
perfect domestic circle; I have two children in heaven—one about
to enter the ministry and taken up above. I have four children
upon earth; they are all communicants of the Church of our Lord
Jesus Christ, and two Sundays ago one of them preached his first
sermon. I have had great opportunities, but as I sat to-day at
the foot of this pulpit I have felt so humiliated that I have
done so little for the cause of the Lord Jesus Christ. Brethren,
I have written much, I have spoken much, and I want to tell you
now that as I sat on this solemn occasion in which Father Boehm
was preaching this centenarian sermon that I have this morning
profoundly regretted all the time and all the talent that I have
spent in any department of literature, or science, or public life
which did not more and more qualify me to preach Jesus Christ and
him crucified. I count it loss, and, by God’s grace, no more of
my time shall be thus lost. We have but one work—to save souls;
and I have no doubt that the hundred years looks very short to
Father Boehm now. Brethren, the time is short, and we shall soon
be in eternity. God grant that all the atmosphere of our lives
may be so spent in his service that we shall finish our course
with joy, and this ministry which we have received of the Lord
Jesus. Then, whatever else will be unfinished, we shall have
made a rounded and triumphant life. I thank you for your great
kindness.
ADDRESS OF THE REV. DR. WAKELEY.
The Rev. J. B. Wakeley, D.D., was requested to address the conference,
and responded by saying:—
I indorse all that Bishop Janes said concerning our venerable
and venerated father. I honor every gray hair upon that head,
[turning to Father Boehm,] and believe one of the purest spirits
ever formed by the Almighty dwells in that body. I have spent
years with him: I am talking about what I know. I have known
his inner life; and while I have been sitting here I have been
thinking about that wonderful saying of the psalmist, blessing
the Lord for forgiving our iniquities, healing all our diseases,
keeping our eyes from tears and our feet from falling, satisfying
our mouth with good things, and renewing our youth like the
eagle’s. I heard an old lady say in love-feast one time, “I was
left a poor widow with seven children; I did not know what would
become of them or me either. God has been a husband to me and a
father to my fatherless children. They are all converted. Now
look at me. Time has shaken me by the hand; the strong man begins
to bow himself; those that look out of the windows are darkened;
the keepers of the house tremble; the grinders are ceasing
because they are few. I have an old, feeble body, but, glory to
God! I have a young soul.” Here, continued Dr. Wakeley, pointing
to Father Boehm, “is a young soul.” Well, now, then, just think,
just throw your mind back and remember you have heard a man
preach that was born before the Republic was born, when we were
colonies dependent on Great Britain, long before Washington was
inaugurated President, having lived under every President from
Washington down to Grant.
Here is a man who was born before the Methodist Episcopal Church
existed; here is a man who heard Robert Strawbridge preach at his
father’s house, who founded Methodism in Maryland, and was very
near contemporary with Philip Embury. He heard Benjamin Abbott,
that son of thunder, at his father’s house; and the people fell
like dead men around him when the old man was preaching, for he
always called for power when he preached. Well, just think that
he was with Bishop Whatcoat when he was dying, and in his last
days and hours ministered to his wants. Just think that he was
with Jesse Lee in 1816, the first historian of Methodism, closed
his eyes, and laid him quietly at rest. Think of his traveling
one hundred thousand miles on horseback to preach the glorious
Gospel of the blessed God. Think of his being five years the
traveling companion of Bishop Asbury. Think of his living to
see our Republic growing, till States have become as large as
empires, and conference after conference has multiplied until the
Atlantic speaks to the Pacific, and the Pacific answers back—deep
answers unto deep. He has seen Annual Conferences established
in India, in China, and in Germany, the land of Luther and the
Reformation. I want you to understand that Father Boehm is not
an old man who is disgusted with life, finding fault with the
present age and comparing it invidiously with the former. No;
he has kept up with the times; he reads the newspapers and
knows what is going on in the Church and what is going on in
the State. He has been a live man until this hour. I heard old
Uncle Billy Hibbard say, “I want you to understand that Billy
Hibbard don’t mean to die while he lives.” I assure you that you
have listened to-day to the most marvelous man in the Methodist
Episcopal Church, if not in the world’s history. O, think of a
hundred years past! There were no railroads, nor steamboats, nor
telegraphs, nor any thing of that kind when Father Boehm was a
boy. [Turning to the patriarch,] Did you cross in an old scow
from Jersey City to New York the first time?
FATHER BOEHM. Yes.
DR. WAKELEY. There were no horse-boats or ferry-boats then?
FATHER BOEHM. No.
DR. WAKELEY. Somebody, a colored man, I believe, used to come
down on the New York side and blow a horn, telling them that
the boat was going over. That is the way they traveled then. O,
how the world has moved since then! Where are those to whom he
preached in the different States? Where are the bishops that he
knew? O how many have passed on to the other side of the river
with whom our venerable father worshiped in the dwellings and
in the churches! I thought while I listened here to-day of that
beautiful sentiment of Charles Wesley, “God buries his workmen,
but carries on his work.” Voltaire said, “Christianity is in its
twilight.” He was correct, but he mistook the time of day. It
was not the twilight of the evening that precedes the darkness
of the night, but the twilight of the morning that precedes the
brilliancy of an eternal day. Father Boehm may die, but the work
will go on, and on, and on until the last son and daughter of
Adam hears the story of the manger, the garden, and the Cross.
I gave him a little advice fifteen years ago; I hope he has
profited by it. I said, “Father Boehm, make up your mind to live
to be a hundred years old.” He said he would try. “You might as
well do it,” said I. Well, now, then, here he is, born the eighth
of June, 1775. Think how the world has moved forward. A hundred
years past—a hundred years to come! Where will we be a hundred
years to come? Long before that our venerable father will be on
the other side of the river. O that his last song on earth may
be, “My heart and my flesh faileth, but God is the strength of
my heart and my portion forever!” He has given us his blessing,
and now we will give him our benediction. May the blessing of him
whose blessing maketh rich and addeth no sorrow rest upon him;
may God guide him a little longer by his counsel and afterward
receive him to glory! O, how many you will meet up yonder that
you knew here! A hundred years to come and all these bishops will
be with Asbury, M’Kendree, and George. A hundred years to come
and we will be walking with Jesus in white. A hundred years to
come and we will be listening to the song of redemption before
the throne. Good John Bunyan described the white-robed multitude,
and he says: “Which when I saw them, I wished myself among them.”
O, we shall soon be there, and I tell you it will be sweet to
meet at Jesus’ feet those we love! It is said that Charles
Wesley, when he met his old friends as we have met to-day, would
always give out those two verses of his:—
“There all the ship’s company meet,
Who sail’d with the Saviour beneath;
With shouting each other they greet,
And triumph o’er sorrow and death:
The voyage of life’s at an end;
The mortal affliction is past:
The age that in heaven they spend,
Forever and ever shall last.”
So may we meet where we can die no more. I want to get to that
world where they cannot die from disease, for nobody is sick;
where they cannot die from old age, for nobody grows old;
where they cannot die from care, for there are no care-worn
cheeks. “Neither can they die any more,” says Jesus. They are
under a divine restraint to live forever—immortal as Gabriel,
immortal as the “King eternal, immortal, invisible.” They are
equal to the angels of God in dignity, in purity, in felicity,
and in immortality. There I hope to meet you, old patriarch of
Methodism, and all these people who are here, where we can see
with our own eyes the King in his beauty, and we will crown him
Lord of all.
A BROTHER. “I want Brother Wakeley to advise Father Boehm to live
a little longer, to see the celebration of the birthday of the
nation.”
The meeting was brought to a close by Bishop Ames, who pronounced the
benediction.
CHAPTER XLVII.
ONE HUNDRED YEARS OLD—SPECIAL CENTENNIAL SERVICE.
On Tuesday, June 8, 1875, Father Boehm completed the one hundredth
year of his age. The event was publicly celebrated on that day in the
Trinity Methodist Episcopal Church, Jersey City, under the auspices of
a committee of the Newark Conference, to which the reverend centenarian
belongs. Of course the church was crowded, and, as was the case at the
preliminary service held in April, the building could not accommodate all
who sought admission. Among the ministers present were the venerable Dr.
John S. Porter, Rev. Bartholomew Weed, Rev. Father Reynolds; Presiding
Elders Vanhorne and Brice, of the Newark Conference; President John F.
Hurst, D.D., Prof. John Miley, Prof. H. A. Buttz, and Prof. Kidder, of
Drew Theological Seminary; Rev. Jacob Todd, Rev. Dr. Foss, Rev. Dr.
Dashiell, Rev. Geo. L. Taylor, Rev. Dr. De Puy, Rev. Dr. Bartine, Rev.
J. M. Freeman, Rev. John Atkinson, and other members of the Newark, New
Jersey, Philadelphia, New York, New York East, and other Conferences.
Among the audience was the mother of President Grant, who had come to
town expressly to attend the services. A large and finely executed
photographic portrait of Father Boehm hung in front of the pulpit.
The venerable patriarch himself entered the church, attended by his
physician, Dr. Walter Hadden, and took his place in the pulpit beside
several of his ministerial brethren. He was in excellent condition, and
remained throughout the service, which was three and a half hours in
duration, without showing any signs of fatigue. The Rev. R. Vanhorne
presided.
The proceedings were opened by the quartet choir singing the following
hymn, written for the occasion by the Rev. Thomas H. Smith:—
God of our patriarch friend,
We raise our hearts to thee
Whose love and mercy never end
To all eternity.
Thy kindly care appears;
It challenges our praise;
Extending through a hundred years—
A hundred years of grace.
We praise thee for a life
So useful, Christlike, pure:
A life of manly Christian strife
Thy glory to secure.
Now crown his hoary age
With blessings all divine;
And may his life through every page
Still bright and brighter shine.
And to his latest day
Be peace and honor given,
Until he gently glides away
To sing thy praise in heaven.
After a comprehensive and impressive prayer by Rev. Bartholomew Weed,
Rev. Father Reynolds read the Twenty-third Psalm. Then the choir sang the
following hymn, composed for the occasion by Fanny Crosby:—
Thou Rock on which our Church is built,
And shall forever stand,
On him, its oldest watchman, now
Thy blessing, Lord, command.
Behold this vet’ran of the cross,
Our aged pilgrim sire,
And let the ardor of the past
Once more his soul inspire.
Well has he fought, and long has trod
The strait and narrow way;
The circle of his life completes
A hundred years to-day.
Dear Saviour, bear him in thine arms
While he on earth shall stay;
And with his years may blessings come
A hundredfold to-day.
So may we live, that we at last
May sing thy praise with him,
Where hearts shall never fail with time,
Nor eyes with age grow dim.
Father Boehm then arose, and amid profound silence and in a clear voice,
which was heard distinctly throughout the church, spoke as follows:—
FATHER BOEHM’S REMARKS.
I rejoice to meet you here to-day, my brethren in the Lord. I
rejoice that I am privileged to see the wonderful progress of the
work of the Lord through our land. I rejoice that I am permitted
to see such an assemblage here to-day. The first time I passed
through this place there was no town here. That was in 1809,
with the venerable Bishop Asbury. There were sand-banks, and so
on, here then, but no houses—except the ferry-house, I think.
Blessed be God for his wonderful work throughout our land! Yes,
where we passed through wildernesses and solitary places, they
are now inhabited, and churches have arisen, where a numerous and
enlightened people worship and praise the Lord. Thanks be to his
name! I cannot speak very long. I will commit the subject of my
experience and travels to my “venerable” Brother Atkinson, who
will read you some facts appropriate to this occasion.
Rev. John Atkinson, on rising to read the autobiographical sketch,
referring to the mirth occasioned by the centenarian’s jocose allusion,
said: “Father Boehm understands that this is a festive occasion, and
these good people like a little good cheer.” He then read the following
SKETCH OF FATHER BOEHM’S LIFE.
I was born in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, on June 8, 1775,
one hundred years ago this day. I was one year a subject of
King George, as it was not until I had attained that age that
the American people renounced their allegiance to the British
Government by proclaiming the Declaration of Independence. The
noise of the battles of Concord and Lexington had scarcely died
away when I drew my first breath, so that my history includes
nearly the whole of the period of the Revolutionary War. I was
a contemporary of the fathers and founders of the Republic, and
have lived under the administration of all the Presidents of
the United States. I clearly remember the days of Washington’s
presidency, and I cast my first vote for his successor, John
Adams, in 1796. I lived through almost a quarter of the last
century, and have lived thus far through the present one, and I
have witnessed with my own eyes the rise, progress, and present
grand development of the United States of America.
The changes and progress of the country within my recollection
have been so vast and overwhelming I scarcely know how to speak
of them. When I became a man there was only thirteen States.
Early in this century Ohio became a member of the Federal Union,
and then the star of our empire moved westward until it shone
upon the waves of the Pacific Ocean. I witnessed the system
of slavery in the Southern States, and I have been permitted
to see it swept from the land, and the banner of impartial
freedom waving triumphantly over every State. Bless the Lord! I
well remember the days when the steamboat was unknown, and the
railroad unthought of. The winds of heaven wafted our commerce,
and horses furnished our swiftest means of travel by land. I,
myself, have traveled over a hundred thousand miles on horseback.
I have witnessed the progress of the nation in population and
wealth to a degree that seems incredible to have been attained
in one man’s life-time. I have seen the increase of the oldest
cities, and the founding and wonderful growth of newer ones. I
have observed the advancement of our people from a comparatively
rude and pioneer condition to their present high _status_ of
intelligence, wealth, and refinement. When, in 1809, I first
stood upon the site of the city in which we are this day
assembled, I think there were no buildings upon it except the
ferry-house and the barn-houses which here and there dotted it.
To-day its streets and buildings cover a territory many miles in
circumference, and its population exceeds one hundred thousand
souls. Then the city of New York only reached to Canal-street,
and Brooklyn was a very small town. Cincinnati had then only
commenced its history, and Chicago was yet to be.
I have seen wonderful progress in the religious world in my time.
I was born nine years after the introduction of Methodism in New
York by Barbara Heck and Philip Embury, and nine years before the
organization of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and the election
of its first bishops, Coke and Asbury. When my life began there
were, probably, scarcely a half score of Methodist houses of
worship on this continent, and there were only 3,148 members and
19 traveling preachers. When I commenced my public life Methodism
was small, both numerically and financially. There were very
few commodious churches except in the large cities, such as
St. George’s, in Philadelphia, Light-street, in Baltimore, and
John-street, in New York.
Our best churches of that day were very inferior compared with
those of the present. Our meetings were mostly held, at the time
I began to preach, in private houses, in barns, and wherever we
could obtain shelter. There was much opposition shown toward us,
and I have had stones hurled at me while preaching.
I joined the Methodist Episcopal Church in 1797, in Boehm’s
Chapel, being at that time twenty-two years of age. My father,
Martin Boehm, was many years a minister among the United
Brethren, and was a bishop in that Church. He was for a long
time a warm personal friend of Bishop Asbury, and toward the
close of his life he united with our Church. Boehm’s Chapel is
still standing in good condition, and is now the church of the
neighborhood where it stands. My father’s influence contributed
much toward its erection. Bishop Whatcoat furnished the plan of
the edifice. It was built in 1791, was the first Methodist church
in Lancaster County, and it was one of the early fortresses of
American Methodism.
I was licensed to preach January 6, 1800, by Rev. Thomas Ware,
who was then presiding elder on the Chesapeake District, and
who at the same time appointed me to travel Dorchester Circuit,
on the eastern shore of Maryland. Therefore I was never a local
preacher, though I have been a witness of the great usefulness
of that numerous and honored class of Gospel heralds, whose
unremunerated and zealous labors have done so much for the
evangelization of this nation. In the days of my effective
ministry the local ministry was an indispensable adjunct of our
itinerant system.
About four months after I was licensed to preach I attended
the General Conference of 1800, in Baltimore. I was present at
Richard Whatcoat’s ordination as bishop, in the presence of
that body, in Light-street Church, and heard Dr. Coke’s sermon
on that occasion. I also was a witness of, and participant in,
the wonderful revival which prevailed in Baltimore during that
General Conference. People fell under the mighty influence that
rested upon them as they walked the streets. After the General
Conference closed I attended the Philadelphia Conference at
Smyrna, (then Duck Creek,) where the revival work went forward
with great power. It extended, in fact, over the whole Peninsula.
When I traveled Annamessex Circuit, in 1801, with William
Colbert, we received eight hundred persons into the Church in
that Circuit alone.
Methodism was very prosperous on the Peninsula in that day,
and included among its members many of the first people of
that section. Dr. White, Harry Ennalls, Governor Bassett, of
Delaware, an eminent lawyer, a judge, and a member of Congress
in 1787, Dr. Sellers, and others, gave influence and strength to
the denomination in those early times. The social position of
our Church has hardly been relatively higher anywhere in this
country, at any time in its history, than it was in the Peninsula
in the beginning of this century. That region furnished many of
our best and most successful preachers in the days when there
were giants among us, for truly there were giants in those days.
Among the great men of that period was Dr. Chandler, a man of
commanding intellect, of large executive capacity, a powerful
preacher, a mighty evangelist, greatly successful in winning
souls. Jesse Lee, one of the Church’s noblest and brightest
names, was then in his ripe maturity, and lost the bishopric by
only one vote at the first General Conference I attended. I was
with him in his last hours, heard his rapturous and triumphant
utterances as he met his final foe, and, at his own request, I
closed his eyes after the great soul departed. William Colbert,
one of my early colleagues was a man of low stature, but of
high usefulness, indefatigable in labor, and among the first in
success.
That portion of my life in which I was the traveling companion
of bishop Asbury has probably the most public interest, because
I was in that capacity the representative of the denomination at
large, and was the most intimate and daily associate of a man,
the purity and greatness of whose character, and the vastness and
value of whose work, must forever place him among the foremost
servants of God and mankind.
Bishop Asbury chose me to be his traveling companion in the
spring of 1808—which choice the Philadelphia Conference
ratified—and I ceased traveling with him at the conference of
1813, when he appointed me presiding elder of the Schuylkill
District, which comprised the whole territory from Wilmington
to Stroudsburgh, between the Susquehanna and the Delaware. My
first tour with Bishop Asbury was from a point between Baltimore
and Fredericktown, Maryland—a spot historic in Methodism, where
Strawbridge built his log church; thence westward. We crossed
the Alleghany Mountains on our way, and the ascent occupied
thirty-nine hours. I have since crossed the Alleghanies several
times in express trains in a much shorter time. I had previously
accompanied Asbury to the Alleghanies in 1803, where I left him
to pursue his westward journey, while I returned to my work.
Having passed the mountains, we made our way to Wheeling; thence
through Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee; thence pursued a southerly
course, visiting the conferences in the Southern States. During
the western portion of this tour we visited the territory
of Indiana, which was a vast wilderness. We traveled in it
thirty-six miles, and saw in all that distance only six human
habitations. Among the noted and worthy laymen whose acquaintance
I formed, and by whom I was entertained on this my first
journey with Bishop Asbury, were Governor Tiffin and Governor
Worthington, both of Ohio, who were exemplary and devoted members
and representatives of our Church. During our progress through
Tennessee we were joined by Bishop M’Kendree, who had just been
elected a bishop at Baltimore, and who was on his first episcopal
tour. He accompanied us through the South, presiding with Asbury
over the Southern conferences.
I became acquainted with the Southern Methodist preachers at
that time. Lovick Pierce, but a few years my junior, was then
conspicuous for the purity and beauty of his character, and his
popular talents as a preacher, and he yet lingers, with me,
behind our beloved early colaborers who have gone on before.
William Capers, beautiful in person and eloquent in speech,
was at that time received on trial by the conference. He was
afterward one of the most distinguished men in our connection,
and became a bishop of the Church South after we were divided.
The Southern Methodists at that time were remarkable for their
spiritual fervor, and Christian friendliness and hospitality.
There were among them many noble examples of the great virtues
produced by our faith. I learned to love the South, and I have
now fond memories of my friends whom I once cherished there.
I knew the South when there was but one Methodism in America. I
wept when, in 1844, we were rent asunder, and now, as I stand
amid the thronging memories of a century, I plead and pray that
Methodism, North and South, may become one again. I am, in some
sense, at least, a representative of the fathers of the Church—of
the preachers and bishops who toiled and sacrificed to lay strong
the foundations of our beautiful Zion, and I am sure I do not
misrepresent them when, in their name, and as almost their sole
survivor, I plead for a united Methodism throughout this great
land. This desire and prayer leaps strong and warm out of my
heart, which, after beating for a hundred years, still beats as
true and strong as ever for the welfare of the Church to which
its best love and zeal have been given.
During this first tour with Bishop Asbury I saw the Virginia
Conference. It was composed of a fine body of men. There was one
striking fact connected with it. Of the eighty-four members of
the body, the two bishops, and the traveling companion of the
bishops, all were bachelors except three. Our early preachers
were compelled to deny themselves largely of the pleasures and
endearments of domestic life, in order that they might do the
work of evangelists and make full proof of their ministry. At
this time I made the acquaintance of, and was entertained by,
Edward Lee, at Petersburgh, Va. He was a brother of Jesse Lee,
and father of Rev. Dr. Leroy M. Lee, now, and for a long time, a
distinguished representative of Southern Methodism.
From the Virginia Conference we proceeded over the Blue Ridge to
Harrisonburgh, where we attended the Baltimore Conference; thence
to the Philadelphia Conference, in St. George’s, Philadelphia,
Bishops Asbury and M’Kendree alternately presiding. Though
attending all the conferences, I was a member of this conference,
and was home again with my brethren. When my name was called
in conference the brethren said: “None but the bishop can tell
whether there is any thing against Brother Boehm.” The bishop
rose and said, with much gravity: “Nothing against Brother
Boehm.” This conference has given many noble and illustrious
ministers and laymen to the Church.
After the Philadelphia Conference, we proceeded onward through
New Jersey, which Bishop Asbury had not visited for twenty-five
years, and we missed our way in the Pines, and reaching a church
where the bishop had an appointment to preach, we found that,
as a result of our delay, the services had been commenced by
the preacher in charge of the circuit. The house was crowded.
Bishop Asbury immediately entered the pulpit, and, after talking
a brief time, he stepped backward and said: “I cannot preach;
Henry, you must get up and preach.” I immediately arose, and the
passage came to my mind, “And all thy children shall be taught of
the Lord, and great shall be the peace of thy children.” If the
passage had not come to my mind I should have been dumb, but as
it was I preached from it, and had a good time. After I finished
the bishop arose and delivered a warm exhortation. This was in
the coast region of South Jersey in 1809.
Proceeding toward New York, we were joined by bishop M’Kendree
again at Elizabeth, and at Elizabethport we saw for the first
time a steamboat. It excited our curiosity. We passed on to
Paulus’ Hook, now Jersey City. Here for the first time I saw
the noble Hudson, and crossed it to New York, where we met the
conference in John-street Church. Bishop M’Kendree was then first
introduced to the New York Conference. I traveled many hundreds
of miles with M’Kendree during my five years’ sojournings with
Asbury, and heard him preach, probably, at least a hundred
times. He was a very powerful preacher. He often preached great
sermons, and seldom preached a poor one.
From the New York Conference we proceeded to New England,
attending the only conference in that section, after which we
proceeded again on our western and southern tour. But it is
impossible for me on this occasion to recount the many scenes and
events I witnessed during my long journeys with that great man,
whose memory is ever green in my heart.
It was my office to attend upon and minister to him for five
years. I frequently lifted him upon his horse, and helped him to
alight. I gave him medicine when he was sick, and watched with
him at night. It was my privilege to attend Bishop Whatcoat in
his last illness, at Governor Bassett’s, in Delaware, in 1806. I
have been personally acquainted with all our bishops, from Coke
to Peck, but to none have I been so endeared as to Bishop Asbury.
I guarded him in his journeys when it was unsafe for him to be
without a companion, and I shared with him the perils of the
wilderness.
In North Carolina, coming on from Wilmington toward Newbern,
Bishop Asbury’s horse became frightened and ran away. He was in
the sulky, and I was on horseback. I suffered great apprehension
of mind, not knowing what to do. I did not dare to pursue after
him lest I should increase the horse’s fright, and so add to the
bishop’s peril. I began to pray, and if ever I prayed I prayed
then, that God would deliver the bishop from the destruction with
which he was threatened. Suddenly the horse stopped, and became
quiet and docile, and I rode up to the bishop, and found him in
much trepidation, but safe and thankful.
“The Lord is good: a stronghold in the day of trouble, and he
knoweth them that trust in him.” As I attended and guarded and
nursed Asbury, so am I attended, nursed, and tenderly cared for
by my beloved daughter in my weakness and age. My hope is bright,
and I expect soon to meet my colaborers on high.
The last of my dear friends who have preceded me was Rev. Dr.
Wakeley, my intimate associate for many years. He was to me a
true and loving friend. He was with me on my last birthday, and
participated in the service when I preached my centennial sermon
at the last session of the Newark Conference. He then expected to
be here to-day; but he is not here—he has gone on before. I shall
see him soon, and Asbury, and others dear to me,
“Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet,
Their Saviour and brethren transported to greet;
While anthems of rapture unceasingly roll,
And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul.”
Rev. J. M. Freeman then read the following letter from Bishop Asbury to
Rev. Joseph Totten, New Brunswick, N. J., written in 1811, to which were
added a few lines by Father Boehm:—
LETTER FROM BISHOP ASBURY.
MARTIN BOEHM’S, _Aug. 10, 1811_.
MY DEAR BROTHER: We have need of great grace to make and keep us
what we ought to be as Christian men and Gospel ministers. Alas
for poor.... They are well kept whom the Lord keepeth, and they
only. I have been looking many years for a general spread, not
only of Methodism, but religion, in Jersey. There, I fear, we
shall grow so like other societies that there will be but little
difference. I have this morning opened about a dozen letters from
the South—growing prospects still; living and dying witnesses;
camp-meetings moving on; thirty or forty souls coming out, boldly
declaring what the Lord hath done for them. It is of consequence
to have scaffolding—I mean houses—for the service of God. I have
many times felt with Eli for the ark of God in forty years when
I view our prosperity—200,000 members; two or three millions
of annual hearers; between 2,000 and 3,000 local and traveling
preachers; that we minute almost 700 in eight conferences.
Satan, the world, carnal Churches—more so than ourselves—envy
us, and wish our fall; but let us watch, and fast, and pray. The
Lord will direct. Children and great grandchildren may forget
old fathers. I shall keep close to children whether the ship
should be in storm, or calm, or fresh breeze; near the helm,
if permitted, or before the mast. I cannot leave them or cast
them off. Let my traveling so many thousand miles in pain, in
lameness, in hunger, in thirst, in all seasons, witness, that I
wish to stand clear of a party or policy. I must speak and write
as a plain, open man, as you have always found me. Your request
to know the names of the delegates is what any one in your
standing might reasonably wish, and the names are on the cover
of my Characteristic Book. Brother Boehm knoweth the delegates;
he may give them in this letter. I may be censured if I do it;
nothing is hid. I conclude. Let us be plain, peaceable, praying
men; the Lord will direct us all. I hope for the best. You will
recollect how restless two young men were in the last General
Conference. It was but a little while they had to feel the rod or
staff of the bishops. I am most affectionately, as ever, yours,
F. ASBURY.
Following is Father Boehm’s postscript to the above:—
AT MY FATHER’S, _Aug. 11_.
DEAR BROTHER: Through a kind and gracious Providence my life and
peace are perpetuated to the present moment. I desire to exercise
greater confidence in the Lord as regards myself and the Church
of God.
H. BOEHM.
Rev. Abraham J. Palmer read some letters which had been received by the
committee in charge of the centennial celebration, among which were the
following:—
LETTER FROM BISHOP JANES.
NEW YORK, _May 8, 1875_.
REV. A. J. PALMER, DEAR SIR: I thank the committee for inviting
me to be present at the one hundredth birthday of Rev. Henry
Boehm. I should regard it as a very high honor, and it would
be a very great pleasure, to participate in the services of
that very unusual occasion were it practicable for me to do so
consistently with engagements made previous to the reception of
your invitation. My engagements in the West will not allow me to
return in time to enjoy the occasion. Permit me, through you, to
extend to Father Boehm my warm congratulations and affectionate
greetings. I am sure one who has lived so long and intimately
with God on earth will live with him forever in heaven. May
all who unite in celebrating his centennial share with him his
immortality!
Yours in Christian love,
E. S. JANES.
LETTER FROM BISHOP BOWMAN.
CHICAGO, _June 1, 1875_.
DEAR FATHER BOEHM: As neither my colleagues nor myself can be
present at your centennial anniversary, we beg to assure you that
our absence does not in the least indicate any loss of respect or
affection for you. Your pure Christian character and holy life,
as well as your long and valuable services to the Church, have
given you a warm place in our hearts. We are glad and thankful
that a kind Providence has spared you to us so long, and that
you are permitted to enjoy so comfortable and happy an old age.
It would give us great pleasure to be present on the occasion
referred to, and participate in the interesting and memorable
services connected with it. But as other duties will not allow
this, we hereby send our hearty congratulations and Christian
greetings, and most devoutly pray that God’s blessings may abound
toward you, and that, when the end shall have come, the light
of your cheerful and beautiful life may, without a cloud or a
shadow, melt away into the glory of heaven.
Yours affectionately,
THOMAS BOWMAN,
_By order of the Board of Bishops_.
LETTER FROM BISHOP SIMPSON.
PHILADELPHIA, _June 7, 1875_.
DEAR BROTHER PALMER: I regret that I cannot be present at Father
Boehm’s anniversary. At our recent meeting I was appointed to
hold the German Conference and to visit our missions in Italy
and Scandinavia, and I expect to sail this week. Please present
to Father Boehm my sincere congratulations that God has spared
him so long to the Church and the world. Few men have seen their
hundredth anniversary. Very few ministers have ever approximated
such an age. His experience, too, has been so rich and joyous. He
has seen the Church of his youth rise from infancy to maturity.
He has witnessed the development of all its agencies, and the
enlargement of its borders. We rejoice still to have his presence
with us, and his blessing upon us. May his last days be unusually
full of gracious enjoyments, and may he finally be crowned
in holy triumph in our Father’s kingdom. With thanks to the
committee for their courtesy, and with regret at my unavoidable
absence,
I am yours, truly,
M. SIMPSON.
LETTER FROM SAMUEL PETTIT.
PIQUA, O., _June 5, 1875_.
Rev. HENRY BOEHM:
MY DEAR BROTHER: I see by the “Western Advocate” that you expect
to celebrate your hundredth anniversary, which will be next
Tuesday, and I should be glad were it in my power to meet you on
that occasion. But as this cannot be, I must praise the Lord, and
shake hands with you in my heart. In 1822 I stopped at your house
in Lancaster, Pa., on my way to Reading, where Methodism was soon
after planted in that wicked town, which was on your circuit, and
where you were likely to be drowned by swimming the Schuylkill to
get to your appointment there, and where your books and clothes
were well soaked in the water, and where I took you to my house
and had you dried and comforted as best I could. It was in 1822
that you gave me my first license, which I still have to look
at. It was also in 1822, at Churchtown camp-meeting, that you
took into Society Ellen Righter, who has been my wife over fifty
years, and who has never been too tired to rise up and make the
preachers comfortable at our house, and who is known to most of
the preachers of the Cincinnati Conference, and whose praise is
in all the Churches.
You will remember Brother Kimber, who was my fellow-laborer at
Reading in the Church, and helped greatly in the work of the
Lord. He still lives in Urbana, Ohio, and he and I are now both
in our seventy-ninth year, and, by the grace of God, walking by
the same rule, and minding the same thing. I thank my God for
my acquaintance with you, and for the long life with which my
heavenly Father has favored you, and pray that your sun may grow
brighter and broader at its setting, and bring a pleasing day in
glory.
SAMUEL PETTIT.
P. S.—If you ever feel like writing me a line I should be very
happy to receive it. You will remember that I met you about ten
years ago at your friend’s below Dayton, where we spent two or
three days together. I may write to you some day again, if I know
your post-office.
S. P.
LETTER FROM AARON WOOD.
WILLIAMSPORT, IND., _June 4, 1875_.
A. J. PALMER, JERSEY CITY, N. J.:—
DEAR SIR: Please read the following at your meeting on the 8th,
as my congratulating contribution for the occasion. In 1811
Asbury and Boehm came to my father’s, in the State of Ohio.
(See “Asbury’s Journal,” vol. iii, page 317.) I was then nine
years old, and received from the bishop a catechism. Boehm
will remember the visit. But there is a fact that I give of
importance, learned from my mother. Her maiden name was Mary Con,
of York, Pa., and when a child, under the preaching and teaching
of Martin Boehm gave her heart to her Saviour. I am the oldest of
five sons of that mother, and am now seventy-three, and in the
fifty-third year of my itinerancy. I have met H. Boehm in New
York, in Xenia, and Philadelphia, and he will remember
Yours, respectfully,
AARON WOOD.
_Reflections on the extent of personal influence_:—
1. Martin Boehm, the Mennonite from Germany.
2. Mary Con Wood, the Methodist mother of preachers.
3. A. Wood, a young preacher in Indiana, preaching in a cabin in
Knox County.
4. Isaac Owen, brought to Christ, and made missionary to
California.
And who knows but four more would reach around the world? If God
leaves me here in this sound body twenty-seven years more, I may
learn the names of persons who, from Owen in China, and so on
around to Bohemia or Bulgaria, carried the same Gospel which has
saved me. Glory be to God! Amen.
A. W.
A communication from Dwight Williams, of Cazenovia, N. Y., inclosed the
following letters from Father Boehm and Bishop Asbury to Rev. Robert
Birch, a member of the East Genesee Conference at the time of his death,
which occurred about twenty-two years ago. Both letters were originally
written upon the same sheet of paper.
FATHER BOEHM’S LETTER.
CAMDEN, S. C., _Dec. 23, 1811_.
MY VERY DEAR BROTHER: I received yours a few days ago, and was
made glad with its contents, particularly on finding that you
enjoyed good health of body, and, above all, are warring a good
warfare. It is so: great and good men may sometimes be at least
the accidental cause of leading us into inexpedient steps, and
if such a step or steps should be of such a nature and relation
that we cannot step backward for life, it behooves us to consider
well, especially as itinerant ministers of the ever blessed
Gospel of Jesus Christ. The rewards of grace and glory are
suspended on self-denial and taking up the cross. But, my dear
brother, how liable we are to lose sight of the spiritual prize!
for it must be received by faith. My mind is satisfied that
nothing can reconcile a young man to move on as though he cared
for nothing of a temporal or domestic nature but the power of
grace, and the perpetual exercise of the same.
No doubt you would be glad to hear some account of our tour.
We traveled extensively through the State of Ohio previous to
the Western Conference, at which we had a good time, both in
conference and in the congregations. Some conversions. Things
were very promising as to the perpetuation of peace, order, and
discipline among preachers and people. Upward of three thousand
increase. One hundred and one preachers stationed. From there
we traveled rapidly to the west of Georgia, over into the New
Purchase, down to Savannah, back to Augusta, Columbia, to this
town—upward of eleven hundred miles since we left Cincinnati.
There has been a gracious work of God, in many parts, within the
bounds of this conference. The increase, in all probability, will
be considerable. It would do you good to see the peace, order,
and love which appear to be prominent features of this conference.
My health is as usual, and I have reason to believe that my soul
is advancing in humility and love. O, why is not my whole soul
swallowed up in the goodness of God! May the great Head of the
Church be your wisdom, comfort, and strength! Father Asbury has
lately been considerably afflicted with a rheumatic touch in one
of his knees, but is at present nearly well.
I am, dear brother, yours, etc.,
H. BOEHM.
BISHOP ASBURY’S LETTER.
CAMDEN, S. C., _Dec. 23, 1811_.
MY DEAR SON: O what graces and grace we need to conduct ourselves
as sons of God, without rebuke! Great grace we need to guide men
of murmuring minds, and called, justified, sanctified, ministers
of Jesus. This year with us is begun in the West and Southern
conferences. The day of God, the day of glory, is begun. Near
seven thousand added this year, besides the numbers triumphantly
gone to join the Church above. Thus the wastage is more filled
up. These two conferences would be a great field for the poor
supernumerary superintendent, but we must wander through the new
world.
We have recommended the first Friday in May as a day of
humiliation and fasting, that if we must have some radical
changes, (as some say,) and the transfer of some of the
appointing power to the principal officers in our Church
government, the change may be of God, and not of men, who have
partially for years been their own bishops. Pray; watch; flee
youthful desires; follow after every grace.
Yours, etc.,
FRANCIS ASBURY.
TESTIMONIAL TO FATHER BOEHM.
Rev. John S. Porter, D.D., then came forward, and turning to the
patriarch, said:—
I have great pleasure, Father Boehm, to meet you again in the
presence of this large assembly. I suppose there is no person
present, perhaps, who has so continuous a recollection of you for
so long a term of years as myself. I do not recollect the time,
but I doubt not you do, when in my infancy, at the request of my
now departed and sainted parents, you baptized me in the name of
the Holy Trinity. When you came to the Delaware District, which,
I think, was in 1820—’19 or ’20—
FATHER BOEHM—Thereabouts.
DR. PORTER—I was then a member of the Church, a lad about or
nearly fifteen years of age, and I recollect it was you who gave
me the first book I ever felt sufficient interest in to read
from the beginning to the end. I suppose that book of religious
letters is now out of print, but I recollect my heart was warmed
in reading those letters directed to Bishop Asbury, I think
chiefly from laborers in different parts of the field. From that
time it has been my privilege to know your personal history as
to age and service in the ministry of the Methodist Episcopal
Church, and I think what Bishop Asbury said when he was called
upon to say whether there was any thing against Henry Boehm, may
well have been said from year to year from that time till now.
God be praised, by whose grace you have been thus preserved!
Your brethren, sir, desire to present to you some substantial
token of their respect for you, their interest in you, and their
affection for you in the evening of your life; and although it
was not so determined by the Newark Conference, yet the Newark
Conference was pleased to appoint a committee to take this matter
in charge—the celebration of your centennial—and they have been
pleased to issue circulars and to obtain from different quarters
something of what Kossuth, I believe, used to call “material
aid.” I have something from those who love you to present to you
on this occasion, and I am happy to say that one hundred and
fifty dollars of this subscription comes from the Philadelphia
brethren. I was present at their preachers’ meeting, and when
I told them we were going to celebrate your centennial, and
suggested that they take the matter in hand, (for I thought
they would consider it a privilege to participate in this
celebration,) they very cordially appointed a committee of three
to represent them here, and they also have collected that amount
of money, and those three brethren—Brothers Todd, Chaplain, and
Robinson, together with Brother Fernley, have come here to show
their interest in this matter.
It is not possible for us to say, Father Boehm, how much the
amount of this testimonial will yet be. I have just been told,
however, that a friend will make it up to the sum of five hundred
dollars, and I have no doubt there are other friends who desire
to add to it, and I hope it will not stop at that figure. I know
that other friends will be glad, when the subject is presented
to them, to participate in the movement. I hope, so far as the
“material aid” is concerned, that it may be of comfort to you—not
that the sum is so considerable, but that you cannot, I know
you cannot, but feel in your heart to rejoice that God raises
up these friends for you. With this substantial token of our
regard for you [handing Father Boehm a purse] I close my remarks,
rejoicing that it is my privilege to sit at your feet, and hoping
to join you in the heavenly land.
Father Boehm was asked if he desired to reply in person, and he said that
instead of speaking himself he had selected Professor Buttz to represent
him.
Rev. Henry A. Buttz, A. M., who then appeared in a double representative
capacity—being called upon to speak for Father Boehm and also for the
young men of the Newark Conference—spoke as follows:—
ADDRESS OF PROF. HENRY A. BUTTZ.
DR. PORTER: Little did Father Boehm suppose, when he took you
in his arms and baptized you in the name of the Father, Son,
and Holy Ghost, that you would greet him on the one hundredth
anniversary of his birth with this token of the appreciation of
his younger brethren.
I am requested by Father Boehm to return through you, to all who
have taken part in this occasion, whether from the Philadelphia,
New York, or other conferences, and particularly to the members
of the Newark Conference, with which he has been connected during
these later years of his life, his thanks for this renewed
testimonial of affection.
All these brethren have a warm place in his heart. He looks upon
them not as his brethren only, but with all the tenderness with
which a father looks upon his sons, and with a heart whose warmth
a hundred years have not chilled he returns you his gratitude. He
receives this gift for the evidence it gives of your confidence
and esteem.
Father Boehm gives thanks to God to-day that although he has been
preaching the Gospel since the year 1800 with an average salary
of less than two hundred dollars a year, and in many instances he
has given that to the Church of Christ, yet now, standing at the
end of a century, he can confirm by experience the truth of the
Divine promise to the righteous: “Trust in the Lord, and do good;
so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.”
For one hundred years he has not wanted any good thing. Loving
hearts have cared for him, and gentle hands have ministered to
him, through all these years until this hour. If it were proper,
it would be the wish of Father Boehm that I should express on
this occasion, to those of his own immediate circle who have
cared for him so long, his high appreciation of their love, or,
to use his own words, they have been to him “better than good.”
But this is a sacred precinct within which I dare not intrude.
Let it suffice to say, that although for many years he has had no
son of his own, Providence has so arranged that he has not felt
the lack, and he has not wanted for the loving attentions either
of son or daughter.
It is well known to those intimate with Father Boehm that he has
always had a deep interest in young men, especially in young
ministers. In the true spirit of the fathers he has hailed with
joy every institution which proposed their improvement. It is
his desire that when he can no longer preach the Gospel himself,
he may preach it through others, so that he may still speak for
Christ on earth when he has passed to heaven. I am commissioned
by Father Boehm to say, also, that he gratefully receives this
gift of his brethren; that he will deposit it where it may be at
hand in case of need; and hoping, as he does, that he may never
need it, having always had his wants supplied in the past, it is
his purpose in that event, and also that of those most intimately
connected with him, that this shall be employed as a fund to
aid young men in preparing for the ministry in Drew Theological
Seminary.
Again, in Father Boehm’s behalf, I thank you, and give to you,
in his name, his centennial blessing, in the language of the
patriarch Jacob to his son Joseph: “God, before whom my fathers
Abraham and Isaac did walk, the God which fed me all my life long
unto this day, the Angel which redeemed me from all evil, bless
the lads; and let my name be named on them, and the name of my
fathers Abraham and Isaac; and let them grow into a multitude in
the midst of the earth.”
But, venerable father, I have another mission besides the one
with which you have so kindly honored me. The purse is but an
incident in the exercises of this occasion. We are here also to
greet you on this the one hundredth anniversary of your birth, to
assure you of our love and confidence, to pray unitedly for the
continuance of your health and strength, and to hear from your
lips such words as you may choose to speak, and to receive your
blessing. I am asked to extend to you, on this your centennial
anniversary, the cordial salutations of the younger members of
the Newark Conference. I despair of being able in any adequate
sense to represent them. Their voices are so many, and their
sympathies with this occasion are so deep, that I can scarcely
attempt, much less hope to accomplish, such a task. Whatever the
difference in the respective ages of those who are gathered here,
we are alike in this, that by the side of you, Father Boehm,
we are all young men to-day. I seem to myself like a sapling
addressing an oak that has withstood the storms of a century;
like a child, scarcely able to speak, addressing an ancestor
whose life began so long ago as to make his history bear, almost,
the aspect of mythology.
We congratulate you on having lived to be one hundred years
old; an age to which we young men can scarcely hope to attain.
I say hope to attain, for we do not depreciate the grandeur and
glory of old age, especially when, like yours, it is found in
the way of righteousness. I have been informed that there is a
statistician in England who denies that men live to be so old. If
he were here to-day we would point him to you, and show that in
America it does occur. You have lived one hundred years—twelve
hundred months—thirty-six thousand four hundred days—eight
hundred and seventy-six thousand hours, and minutes almost
innumerable. But time is rightly measured not so much by the
minutes on the dial, as by the work achieved and the events that
have transpired. It has been well said that many of the greatest
events of modern times have taken place during your life. Your
centennial comes in the midst of American centennials, and no
history of our country will be complete without your name.
It is not merely to the hundred years that you have lived that
we pay our tribute to-day, but to the fact that you have lived
them so well. We pay our homage to a century of character—to the
Christian virtues which have adorned your active life—a century
in which, neither by word or deed, have you brought a stain upon
the Church with which you have been identified, or upon the
Christ whose Gospel you have proclaimed.
On the 31st of August, 1799, Bishop Asbury wrote in his
journal: “I had a comfortable time at Boehm’s Church.... Martin
Boehm is upon wings and springs since the Lord has blessed
his grandchildren. His son Henry is greatly led out in public
exercises.” This was the bishop’s earliest public testimonial to
your Christian character.
In the year 1809, in the Philadelphia Conference, after you
had been Bishop Asbury’s traveling companion for one year, the
question was asked, “Is there any thing against Henry Boehm?”
and the bishop gravely answered, “Nothing against Brother
Boehm.” Again, in 1813, after five years’ traveling with him,
the bishop returned the same answer to the same question, and
added, referring to you, “For five years he has been my constant
companion. He served me as a son; he served me as a brother; he
served me as a servant; he served me as a slave.” At the last
session of the Newark Conference, in your hundredth year, the
same question was asked, and the answer was, “Nothing against
Father Boehm.”
I am sure, sir, if you should live a hundred years more the same
answer would be given. And when, at last, you shall be called
to enter the better world, the answer will still be, “Nothing
against Henry Boehm;” not because of any merit of your own,
but because you have been washed in the blood of the Lamb, and
because you have “fought the good fight, you have finished your
course, you have kept the faith.”
I have wondered that art has never paid that tribute to age to
which it is entitled. Art has embalmed the human frame in its
grandest physical vigor, and it fairly revels in the flowers
of youthful beauty. Even the muscles of Hercules have been
preserved by the sculptor’s chisel or the painter’s brush,
but so far as my own observation has gone, (and I confess it
has not been extensive,) I have seen but little of art in the
embalmment of the proportions of old men. But the men whom the
world would recall from the past in hours of conflict are not the
physically strong, but the ripe, intellectually noble old men.
It is not Hercules, but Nestor. You remember that the greatest
of epics written by the greatest of poets opens with a quarrel
between Agamemnon and Achilles, the rival Grecian chieftains,
in the midst of which an old man, Nestor by name, who had lived
through two generations, and was now ruling over the third, and
whose words are described as “sweeter than honey,” arose and
demanded a hearing by the rival chiefs by declaring his age and
contemporaries:—
“In times past
I lived with men—and they despised me not—
Abler in counsel, greater than yourselves;
Such men I never saw, and ne’er shall see....
The mightiest they among the sons of men:
The mightiest they, and of the forest beasts
Strove with the mightiest, and their rage subdued.
With them I played my part; with them, not one
Would dare to fight, of mortals now on earth.
Yet they my counsels heard, my voice obeyed;
And hear ye also—for my words are wise.”
And it is of the old man, and not of the warrior, that the poet
adds:—
“O would the gods, in love to Greece, decree
But ten such sages as they grant in thee!”
You, sir, are older than Nestor of Homeric fame. Three
generations have fully passed while you have lived, and you
are now dwelling among the fourth. You have seen the seventh
generation in your own family. How much more should your words be
heard, and your portrait preserved! We take your portrait to-day,
not in verse, not in marble, not on canvas, but on the tablets of
our hearts, and we will preserve it there while life and memory
last, as an inspiration and joy.
We congratulate you, also, because you have lived in the heroic
age of the Church to which we belong. You have been an actor in
the great religious movements which led to the firm establishment
of our Church. You were born nine years after its introduction
into America; you have seen all our great institutions rise and
flourish: you have helped to fight the great battles of Methodism.
You have had great contemporaries, who will be more fully named
by others. It is a great thing to live in a great age with
great men, and to bear your part among them. Your history has
been almost identical with American Methodism. I had almost
said your history _is_ American Methodism. You have seen our
bishops ordained. You yourself were ordained by Whatcoat, who was
ordained by Wesley, and are in the true apostolic succession. You
have helped them in their work, you have smoothed their passage
to the tomb; you helped to lay Whatcoat in the grave.
On the 4th of July, 1815, you went home to visit your mother.
Bishop Asbury, referring to that visit, wrote in his journal:
“Happy at Mother Boehm’s. A pleasing Providence, according to my
wishes, had brought Henry in a few moments before.” After a two
days’ visit with him there in the old home, where he had been
a visitor for thirty years, and when, after his last episcopal
tour, he had bid your aged mother good-bye, you accompanied him
to Lancaster, when he embraced you in his arms, pressed you
to his bosom, gave you his last kiss and benediction, and you
gazed on him till he was lost from your view. The parting is not
forever. You shall see him again in the land where there are no
separations.
You can now look upon a Church whose missions encircle the
globe, founded not only on great institutions of benevolence and
learning, but on the foundation of the apostles and prophets,
Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner-stone—a sure pledge
that her history and triumphs have but just begun.
I have no doubt it would be pleasing for you to know, on this
your centennial anniversary, how the younger members of our
Conference feel on vital matters pertaining to the Church of
your and their choice, and in which you have been a minister for
three quarters of a century. I think I may safely say that they
are loyal to the great doctrines of the Bible as maintained by
the Church during the hundred years you have lived. They maintain
the Bible as the only infallible standard of Christian faith and
practice. They believe and preach the doctrines of depravity,
atonement, regeneration, witness of the Spirit, adoption,
sanctification, eternal salvation for the finally holy, and
eternal punishment for the finally impenitent. While they hold
with tenacity to the doctrines of their own Church, they are not
narrow or bigoted, but with broad Christian hearts they repeat
the Apostle’s Creed with the whole Church of Christ, and gladly
co-operate with Christians of every name for the salvation of
men. They hold fast to the great working forces of the Church
as they have inherited them from you and your colaborers. They
believe in revivals of religion having their inspiration in
God’s Spirit, the class and prayer meeting, and the recognized
instrumentalities of the Church for carrying on her work. If they
criticise, it is not to destroy, but to maintain and upbuild
the Church of their choice. They believe that the great mission
of the Church is the one announced by our fathers, “To spread
scriptural holiness over these lands.” Whatever differences
may exist among them on definitions, I believe they are one in
carrying out the spirit of her early mission, which, I trust,
will continue to be her mission until the world shall be redeemed
to God. They do not fear, but welcome, the highest culture and
the deepest, broadest learning, but they would make it all
tributary to the spread of scriptural holiness.
They are loyal to the fathers of the Church; they reverence our
old men; they are proud of them; they would as soon be seen
striking a blow at their own earthly parents as at the fathers of
Methodism; they hold them highly in esteem for their characters’
sake, for the work’s sake, for the Church’s sake to which they
have given their best days and their noblest powers. Every gray
hair on your head, and every wrinkle on that time-scarred brow,
they love and reverence. They are marks of beauty which they
would not exchange for the brightest bloom of youth. In the
esteem they hold you, they desire to express that which they hold
toward all their fathers in the ministry. But in your presence,
and in view of the exercises that are to follow, I dare not
detain you. Your example forbids me to speak longer. To you may
fitly be applied the epigrammatic eulogy once applied to the
philosopher and patriot of America, Benjamin Franklin: “He never
spoke a word too soon, he never spoke a word too late; he never
spoke a word too much, he never failed to speak the right word at
the right season.”
And now, venerable father, accept again our heartiest
congratulations. We do not say to-day, “My father, my father,
the chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof!” for our
Elijah is not yet going. We trust the time is yet distant ere
you depart for heaven. Though, like Paul, to depart and be with
Christ is better for you, yet for you to abide in the flesh is
more needful for us. When the time comes, you will die grandly
and serenely, as an old man and a Christian should die. Cicero,
the greatest of Roman orators, said: “Young men seem to me to
die just as when the violence of flame is extinguished by a
flood of water; whereas old men die as the exhausted fire goes
out—spontaneously—without the exertion of any force: and as
fruits, when they are green, are plucked by force from the trees,
but when ripe or mellow drop off, so violence takes away their
lives from youths—maturity from old men; a state which to me,
indeed, is so delightful, that the nearer I approach to death
the more I seem, as it were, to be getting sight of land, and
at length, after a long voyage, to be coming into harbor.” But
Cicero lived but sixty-three years, and old Cato, into whose
mouth he put these words, is represented as but eighty-four; but,
sir, they were boys by the side of you. You have lived _a hundred
years_! You are a Christian, too, and a bright vision is before
you. As the traveler in a region of mountains ascends a distant
summit, and when he has reached it finds another before him and
ascends that, and another, and another, and each time finds that
the topmost point is still distant, so you climbed to childhood,
then to youth, then to manhood, then to middle age, then to old
age, and since then you have been climbing through steps for
which our language has no single word, until now you have reached
an age when we can call you our centenarian, and soon you will
reach the summit, when you will greet, not the distant peaks of
earth, but the mountains of glory, where you shall go on forever,
and, with Paul, exclaim with rapture, “Henceforth there is laid
up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous
judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto
all them also that love his appearing.”
Rev. Jacob Todd, A. M., of the Philadelphia Conference, delivered the
following address:—
DR. TODD’S ADDRESS.
Our venerable Father Boehm belongs to the whole Methodist
Episcopal Church, and not to any particular locality. We think
of him as the friend and companion of Asbury, the apostle of
American Methodism, and, in consequence, feel that the whole
country can lay claim to him. We could not localize him if we
would, and would not if we could.
I do not know that any particular credit attaches to a locality
because a great and good man was born there, for the simple
reason that he could not help it. The Hibernian who was born in
the country said he could have been born in the city just as well
if he had desired, but that he preferred the country. Perhaps
if Father Boehm had been consulted he would have preferred the
city. But although the place of our birth is purely accidental,
there is a mystic cord which binds our hearts to our childhood
home through life, such as links us to no other spot on earth.
Representing the Philadelphia Conference, within whose bounds our
venerated father was born, I, with my fellow-committeemen, Drs.
Chaplain and Robinson, feel that our claim is not less, if it be
not more, than that of any others present. Usually upon festive
occasions the children come back from abroad to the paternal
home to do honor to the parents. That order is reversed to-day.
We come from the old homestead to seek out our Father Boehm,
who has gone abroad, and offer him the congratulations of the
Philadelphia Conference upon the one hundredth anniversary of his
birthday.
There have been some changes at home since he left: there are
more farms in Lancaster County now, and less woods; there are
more villages, towns, and cities, and less country. Those who
were boys then are tottering upon staffs now. There are many,
many more mounds in the grave-yard. The little societies which
met in barns and school-houses then, and were called Methodists
in derision, have since built themselves houses of worship,
and are now a strong and respected Church in the community.
The old house, around which in boyhood he played, is gone; but
the springs sparkle just the same, and the brooks bubble and
flow on as of yore; the sky stretches its big arch overhead,
and the stars twinkle, and the sun’s huge disk of burnished
gold dazzles, just the same as they did a hundred years ago.
The old German Bibles are growing scarce, but English Bibles
in greater numbers have taken their places, and the precious
truths of God’s revelation remain the same through all languages.
The same doctrines are preached, the same hymns are sung, the
same experiences are related, and the same prayers are offered,
as when he in boyhood first attended a Methodist meeting. Men
and their works have all changed; but God, and nature, and the
religion of Jesus, are the same yesterday, to-day, and forever.
And Father Boehm has changed some, too, since he left home. He
is the youngest man for his years that ever I knew, but still I
notice that time has made some deep furrows in his cheeks, and
the frost has settled in his hair. That stalwart form which, in
other years, bore Bishop Asbury up many a hill and over many a
stream, is bent and feeble now; and his voice, which used to
ring out loud and clear as he delivered his Gospel message among
the mountains of Pennsylvania, now shows signs of faltering and
trembling. But these changes are only on the outside; time has
not been able to alter him at the core. His memory still is good;
his mind is clear; his heart is just as warm, and his faith as
strong, as they were in the days long past and gone. The “outward
man” may perish, “yet the inward man is renewed day by day.”
God’s own image, over which time has no control, is stamped
within him, and there are no wrinkles in his soul.
A hundred years have rolled away since he first opened his eyes
upon the light of a day in June. It does not seem so long a time
in this age of crowding events; yet it takes us back to when the
fever of the Revolution was in the blood of our ancestors. The
musketry of Concord and Lexington was still echoing in the air
when Father Boehm was born; and he was in his cradle when the
Declaration of Independence was signed. His childhood heard the
tramp of Continental soldiers, and the guns of Valley Forge and
Germantown sounded in his youthful ears. American Methodism was
only a child of nine years old, and was still unweaned from its
mother, when he was born. Why, nineteen such men, the one born
upon the day on which the other died, would take us back beyond
the birth of Christ! This one life spans a continent of history,
arches over the graves of three generations, and bridges a chasm
of forgetfulness a hundred years wide; so that over it the
memories of long ago can travel down to us.
But a man’s life cannot be measured by the number of seasons
that come and go. Some men live more in ten years than others
do in fifty. Our lives are measured not by clock-ticks, but
by heart-throbs. The excitements of the times, the rush of
events, and the activities of the mind, determine a man’s age
more than the roll of years. Father Boehm has lived longer than
Methuselah, if we reckon time in this way. Within his life-time
the application of steam to mechanical purposes has taken place.
Instead of the clink on the anvil, which he heard in boyhood, now
the heavy thud of the steam trip-hammer shakes the earth; and the
old Conestoga wagons of earlier days have almost disappeared from
the turnpike, and, instead, the iron horse now tosses his smoky
main, and snorts and rushes like the wind through mountains, over
valleys, and across the plain. It had taken Methuselah not less
than a week—possibly a whole month—to come from Philadelphia to
New York. Father Boehm has lived in an age when men breakfast
in Philadelphia, dine in New York, and sup again at home. Within
the last century the lightning has been harnessed and made to do
man’s bidding. By means of the telegraph men are talking across
continents and under oceans with each other, as though they stood
face to face. Messages are sent and answers received in an hour,
which would have required months or years a century ago. He has
lived in an age of books and newspapers. Printing was known and
practiced long before his time, but never in the world’s history
has the press groaned beneath its burden of publications as it
has during his life-time. The newspaper has been born in this
country—not in the sense of being created out of nothing, but
in the sense of being transformed and unfolded into new being.
It existed before, but it was only a grub then. It has taken on
wings since, and is a different thing altogether. Had the great
fire in Chicago occurred a hundred years ago, the city would
have been rebuilt before news of its destruction had reached the
more remote sections of the country. Now, men see in the morning
newspaper, before they get to business, the world’s photograph as
it looked at sunset last night. These wonderful facilities for
intercommunication have quickened thought, have aroused energy,
have stimulated activity. Every thing goes by express now;
haste! is the watchword of this age. In an old colonial paper
published in Connecticut there is a notice to this effect: “The
vessel which was to have sailed from New London for England on
next Wednesday will postpone her departure for two weeks longer
on account of one of the passengers not being able to get ready
before.” Now, if he is two minutes late the plank is drawn, and
he is left behind.
If we would measure Father Boehm’s life-time aright we must not
forget that he has lived for a century in an age when men talk
by lightning, travel by steam, write with a printing-press, and
move by the second. He has lived through the best hundred years
this world ever saw; he has lived more than the man who was
contemporary with both Adam and Noah; there is more of history
and religion crystallized in his memory than could have entered
into any one experience in any age before. The length of that
life is wonderful—but its breadth amazes and overwhelms me!
But it is not so much Father Boehm’s extreme age, nor yet his
wide and varied experience, which calls forth our homage to-day.
Old age is honorable, and I always take off my hat before gray
hairs. I am no advocate for relic worship; and yet there is
something in a moss-covered building, in an old mildewed book, or
in the ruins of an ancient city, which irresistibly calls forth
my veneration. I cannot help uncovering my head and walking with
muffled footsteps in the presence of hoary antiquity. By just
as much more as a man is greater and better than a book or a
building, do I venerate the face seamed and scarred, and the head
bleached white with many years. But I have seen older men than
Father Boehm. It was my privilege not long ago to see a man die,
and afterward to bury him, who was two years the senior of the
patriarch of this occasion. There are centenarians to-day living
in almost every State in the Union, the return of whose birthday
calls forth no such public expression of affection and honor.
Father Boehm’s age would command our respect if he had no other
claim upon our attention; but that alone had never called this
concourse of people together from so many and such distant places.
We cannot help paying deference to knowledge, no matter whether
it be acquired through books or experience, or both together.
Knowledge is power, and it is a power which makes itself
respected every-where. The man who stands before us as a kind of
mental reservoir, into which the experiences, observations, and
studies of a hundred years have poured their ceaseless streams,
is king by virtue of his knowledge; he wears a crown which none
will dispute, and holds a scepter before which all will bow. We
look upon Father Boehm as an incarnate, living volume of history;
his life is a cyclopedia of one nineteenth of the Christian era;
he is the embodiment of all the precious memories of Methodism.
We value, cherish, and honor him for his ripe experience and
well-stored mind. But not for his age and wisdom alone, nor
chiefly for these, do the Church and community value his life
and treasure his memory. Goodness is better than age—is better
than knowledge. It is the sunshine which gilds the mountain of
years, and which ripens into sweetness the fruits of experience
which grow on the sides of that mountain. The Church has sent
her representatives here to-day to emphasize the proverb that
“the hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of
righteousness.”
We forget every thing else while we remember vividly that Father
Boehm, though a hundred years old, has a moral character upon
which suspicion has never dared to breathe, and that beneath that
wrinkled face the religion of Jesus dwells in all the sweetness,
freshness, innocence, and simplicity of early childhood. We
have come together to-day to offer thanksgiving to God, and
congratulations to each other, for this life of a hundred years
without one spot or stain. His moral and religious life stands
out upon his Christian profession like a white lily upon a field
of snow. My hand shall not attempt to paint so pure a picture.
“To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, and throw perfume over
the violet, or seek with taper light the beauteous eye of heaven
to garnish, were wasteful and ridiculous excess.” Were this whole
world at Father Boehm’s disposal, with its wealth and its wisdom,
he could not from all its stores bestow a richer dowry upon the
Church of his love than the record of his own simple, humble,
true and untarnished life.
Rev. George Lansing Taylor read the following original hexameter ode,
composed by him for Father Boehm’s centennial. Before reading the poem he
said, in a good-humored way:—
“I ought to make a remark for the benefit of the least bookish
of my hearers, and I will do it in the form of a story. I have
heard the anecdote of a young lady fresh from boarding school,
who, in a conversation on the subject of poetry, sagely remarked
that Shakspeare was not poetry, because it did not rhyme. For
the benefit of some members of the same family as that young
lady who may yet be living I would insist that the world still
continues to call Shakspeare poetry in spite of the absence of
rhyme; and if my hearers will listen attentively to catch the
swing of the long hexameter line they may find rhythm in what I
have to read to them, if not rhyme.”
THE HEROIC AGE.
AN HEXAMETER ODE.
BY REV. GEORGE LANSING TAYLOR, M.A.
HENRY BOEHM, 1775-1875.
_Exegi monumentum ære perennius._—_Horace, Odes III, 80, 1._
Where are our hero fathers; the prophets, do they live forever?—
Where are the spirits and forms sublime in the ages departed,
Forms that loom now, gigantic, as men seen through mists on the
hill-tops,
Loom through the vista of years, majestic as gods in their stature,
Towering above us in labors that shame our puny endeavors,
Mighty in godlike virtues, in sufferings like to the martyrs,
Like them in poverty, hardship, loneliness, exile, and anguish;
Like them in fortitude, valiant as knights in the ages heroic;
Lofty and ardent of soul as Godfrey, or Bertrand, or Bayard:
Glorying in toils apostolic, in matchless intent and achievement;
Flaming with ardor seraphic, and scorning earth’s honors for heaven’s,
Such were our hero fathers and founders, the Methodist preachers.
Honor, all honor to-day to the men, and their labors and triumphs,
Labors that shaped a new world, and triumphs that echoed through heaven.
Rude was the wild they traversed, a continent virgin and pathless,
Peopled by bold, strong races, and States new-rising from darkness;
An unformed chaos of men from the ends of the earth flung together,
Cast on this shore untrodden like drift cast up by the sea-surf.
Men of all lands, all tongues, all ranks, all creeds and opinions,
Mingled as quartz and feldspar and hornblende are mingled in granite;
Mingled by fiery fusion to make the bed-rock of a nation.
Fierce were the forces that fought in the furnace where freedom was
molded.
Tyranny kindled the flame, but Liberty fann’d it and fed it;
Fed it with fire from the skies, and fuel of hearts self-devoted,
Till the rude mass, undigested, refractory, stubborn, chaotic,
Blended at last in a Union of hearts and of States in firm compact,
Welded in blood and fire, cemented for ages of ages.
Not alone valor heroic, or Liberty’s warm aspirations,
Not alone wisdom and state-craft, secured and cemented that union.
Lo! from the throne of Jehovah, and borne by the children of Wesley,
Came a new message divine to the dying faith of the people.
Not in the outworn phrases of long-dead creeds and confessions,
Not in the garb sacerdotal, with lifeless liturgical echoes,
Not in an unknown tongue, with a wafer Christ, or his image,
Came as an angel of light the new evangel of freedom.
Free grace alike upon all, and freedom in all to receive it,
Pardon of sin, and its witness inborn in the souls of God’s children,
Full salvation on earth, and fitness for death and for heaven:
Such was the glad new song the new evangel was singing;
Such was the message from God that wrought, while the forge-fires of
freedom
Glowed, and the hammers of war fell fast, as on iron at welding—
Wrought, like the flux on the iron, that purifies, softens, dissolves
it,
Melting the parts into one, as the stroke of the hammer unites them.
So did the glad outpouring of grace blend the hearts of the people,
Crying, “What God hath joined let not man’s strifes put asunder!”
So wrought the mighty revival, and mighty men wrought in its labors,
Giants on earth in those days, and men of renown in the old-time,
Deathless their memory still, and deathless their toils and their
triumphs.
Where is that conquering host, that thundering legion of heroes,
Men girt with lightnings celestial, and each one a match for a thousand;—
Turning the world upside down, and storming the gates of perdition—
Where are they now, with their preaching, their praying, and singing
seraphic?
Gone! all gone from the earth, swept on like an angel procession,
Bursting awhile on men’s eyes, entrancing the earth with their splendor,
Then, through the white-cloud screen, melting into the glory eternal.
So passeth one generation away, pursued by another,
Fading like leaves with the years, while the earth abideth forever.
Gone! but not all; for lo! one lingers yet living among us,
One of that dauntless host that of old shook the earth with their
thunder.
Hail to the snow-crowned veteran, comrade and partner with heroes!
Hail to the patriarch hoary, survivor of thousands and millions!
Hail to the oak that has stood while the forest was crashing around it,
Stood, and still stands, on the mountain whereerst as a sapling it
flourished,
Grappling the rocks with its roots and with gnarled arms baffling the
tempests,
Gray with a century’s mosses that stream like the beard of a druid,
Ghostly and bare at the top, green below, and sound to the heart-core!
Hail to the hero revered, whose long years stretch on, and still onward,
Passing the threescore and ten, the limit appointed to mortals,
Passing the frosty fourscore, in vigor erect and unbroken,
Shod as with iron and brass, and marching with tramp adamantine
On through the deserts of life, where the bones of youth’s caravans
whiten,
On to the century’s end, to the year that begins a new hundred!
Battled-scarred, time-scarred, and sere, like a storm-beaten crag,
thunder-rifted,
Still in our midst stands the hero, like Nestor of old, sung by Homer;
Nestor, the Pylian sage, who had ruled over three generations:
So stands Boehm, the revered, to-day ’mid the children of Wesley,
Children and children’s children of dead generations who loved him,
Heard from his lips the glad tidings, believed, and passed shouting to
glory!
Heard him who stands here to-day, last link of the ages departed!
Backward, roll backward, ye years that have drifted like autumn leaves
o’er him,
Bear him in mem’ry once more to the home and the scenes of his childhood.
Bear him once more to the farm of his sires in dear old Conestoga,
Nigh where the broad Susquehanna rolls on to the bay and the ocean,
Bid Pennsylvania’s mountains lift up their blue ridges around him,
Laurel Hill, Blue Ridge, Blue Mountains, stern warders of virtue and
freedom,
Bid the far-known and far-honored old homestead fling wide its broad
portal,
Once more to welcome the feet that have journeyed so oft to that
threshold.
Rise from the dust where ye slumber, ye forms that of yore thronged that
mansion,
Join the bright circle, long broken, and move once more, living, before
us!
Hail, Martin Boehm, sire and sage evangelist, bishop, and farmer,
Honored in each and by all, a prince among men stamped by nature.
Born of the strong, patient race of the Alps and the old Palatinate;—
Calvinist, Pietist, Mennonite, Methodist last and completest;—
Friend and copartner with Otterbein, Asbury’s helper and brother,
Such was the patriarch sire of that home by the broad Susquehanna.
Oft there illustrious Asbury rested from toils superhuman,
Worn with the long, long march that yearly encircled a continent,
Worn yet flaming with zeal apostolic, with love archangelic,
Faith that grasped a new world, and the ardor celestial that won it.
There was his heart’s best home. There oft great Otterbein halted,
Scholar, apostle, and saint, by Asbury loved as a brother;
Sage in counsel, and mighty in prayer as Elijah on Carmel;
Founder and head of a people, a godly, fraternal communion.
Hail, Boehm’s Chapel! the temple of limestone, strong and enduring.
Sprung from the preaching of Strawbridge, the thundergust sermons of
Abbott;
Planned by the hallowing hand of Whatcoat, the humble and holy;
Still stands the relic of years and heroes departed forever!
Where are the trumpet-like voices that pealed there the sound of
salvation;
Asbury, Otterbein, Boehm, and Goeting, Ware, Colbert, and Chandler,
Garrettson, Lee, and M’Kendree, and he who still living, there heard
them;
Heard in his youth and believed, and joined the great host of the
preachers.
There, too, rose Jewell and Miller, with Sneath, and the Mitchells and
Hunters.
There rose the Burches, and Best and Aiken, names honored and cherished.
There sleep the forms of the fallen, whose spirits soared thence to
their crowning.
Lo! youthful Henry, called forth by the Church and the Lord of the
harvest—
Called to proclaim the great message, sublimest announcement to mortals—
Speeds on his life-long way, as a herald of mercy to thousands,
Speeds with his mother’s sweet kiss, and his patriarch sire’s
benediction.
Down on the old Eastern shore ’twixt the broad Chesapeake and the ocean,
Where the Peninsula’s sands and the dark cypress swamps spread around
him;
Where the strange tongue of the red man still haunts all the lands and
the waters;
Where blind bigotry’s rage in its rudeness had buffeted angels;
There, in the year eighteen hundred, in Dorchester County and Circuit,
Rang forth a voice like John’s in the wilderness preaching repentance.
Not as one beating the air, in an empty pulpit-gymnastic,
Cried the young herald his message ’mid struggles and sorrows of spirit.
Hundreds, awaked at the story, repented in anguish and mourning.
Hundreds in new-found mercy exulted, and shouted salvation.
Bloomed then the desert, a garden, the dark cypress swamps, like
cathedrals,
Rang with the praise of the Lord till ocean in thunder responded,
Hail the Peninsula! cradle and birthplace of prophets and heroes!
Bostwick, and Bayer, and Beauchamp, M’Combs, and Cooper, and Phœbus,
Martindale, silver-tongued Hull, sage Lawrenson, Emory gifted,
Leaders of Israel’s hosts, and wise master-builders in Zion.
Up, thence, to old Annamessex, to Kent, and Northampton, and Bristol,
Up from the sands to the mountains, from youth to the glory of manhood,
Pressed the evangelist onward, proclaiming free grace and salvation.
Mighty the word in those days, and mighty the Spirit’s outpourings,
Falling on camp-meeting, conference, prophets and people together;
Falling like pentecost whirlwinds on awe-struck thousands assembled;
Sweeping from circuit to circuit till States were ablaze with its glory!
So o’er the prairie in autumn the fire-ocean dashes its surges;
So over pine-clad mountains roars onward the vast conflagration!
Lo, through the length of the land, from Maine to the Gulf, in his
circuits,
Asbury moves like a flame, with Boehm his companion and helper.
Not as a servant but friend, a counselor, brother, he journeyed,
True as Achates renowned, who of old voyaged with pious Æneas,
Loyal as valiant Patroclus, beloved by the godlike Achilles.
Onward from circuit to circuit, from city to city, unresting,
Toiled the great founder and builder, the care of the Churches upon him.
On through the rich cultured East, the bright sunny South, and the
center,
O’er Alleghanian wilds, Tennessee, rough Kentucky, Ohio;
Rivers unbridged, and mountains untraversed, the home of the panther;
Plunging through forest and flood, nor halting for frost or for freshet;
Heeding nor terror nor tempest, all climates and seasons defying,
On, as by heaven’s inspiration, the tramp of their marching resounded.
What was the strong lure that drew them with force unresisted, undying,
Stronger than sorrow or pain? Did golden dreams glitter before them?
Empire? or honors? or fame, whose trump thrills the world with its
echoes?
Nay! None, nor all, of all these; but a mightier spell, and diviner,
Bore them on wing and aflame, as it bore the rapt seraphs from glory,
Warbling o’er Bethlehem’s slumbers the gush of a rapture immortal!
Souls, souls of men, of the poor, the friendless, the erring, the
outcast.
These were their hire and their treasure, as erst of the Master who
taught them.
These, won from death, their reward, and the joy of all heaven beholding;
These were their sheaves, which the Lord of the harvest with blessing
accepted.
Still grows the toil of that harvest, and still swells the joy of its
reaping,
Reaped and resown evermore in endless perennial springing;
Sown like a handful of corn, but waving like Lebanon’s glory:—
Sown with weeping, but reaped ’mid anthems of rapture angelic,
While this hoar harvester leans on his staff, and beholds, and rejoices.
Lo! from the rock-bound shores of the East to the vast Mississippi,
On over river, and prairie, and mountain, and desert, and snow range,
Rolls in grandeur the march of a mighty and marvelous empire.
Hark! In its van, and before it, through solitudes ancient and boundless,
Blown by a thousand heralds, the trump of the new-born evangel
Wakens the wilds where nations extinct have pined for the dawning;
Dawning of morn everlasting, the sunburst for oncoming millions!
On over earth, as it rolls, in the golden sheen of the sunlight,
Swells now the glad new song, the harmonious anthem celestial.
Where the winged caravan, harnessed with fire and thunder, is flying;
Where, at the magic of commerce, old ocean shrinks to a ferry;
Where thought whispers with lightning, and belts the globe in a
heart-beat;
Where strange tongues babble on through continents old, or untraversed;
Where, round the sea-girdled islands, the waves dash music eternal;
Where o’er all earth man wanders, sorrowing, sinning, immortal—
There shines Columbia’s glory, and their lies the parish of Wesley;
There the great harvests of freedom and God wait the sower and reaper.
Lo, now, the harvester, bowed with the fierce, long heat of the noonday,
Weary with wielding the sickle, and bent with the sheaves he has
gathered,
Walks through the low slant beams of the sunset, and toils tow’rd the
garner.
Four times the distance that circles this planet those footsteps have
measured,
Through a long century’s day, but the twilight at last is descending.
Shadows of sunset have faded. Through vistas of opal and amber,
Gates beyond gates open upward, of hyacinth, sardine, and jasper,
Softly unbarred, to the inmost, the gate of one pearl, like a rose-bud
Cleft through the core, and turned outward on hinges of gold! Lo,
unfolding,
Noiseless it swings, like a curtain, and rosy wings poise and sail
earthward,
Rosy hands reach toward the harvester, tenderly lifting his burden,
Tenderly lifting his feet till they thrill on threshold of glory,
Till the bent form blooms and glows, and the white head dazzles like
Hermon’s,
Crowned with his sun-smitten snows,—as this with the throne-flash
eternal!
Harvester, Farewell! from earth—and Hail! from the elders of heaven!
Rev. Cyrus D. Foss, D.D., then responded to the request for some remarks.
ADDRESS BY REV. DR. FOSS.
One of the most distinguished advocates in this country is said
to have remarked concerning the almost interminable speech of
the counsel on the other side: “My learned friend seems to have
feared that it would be impossible for him to make his speech
immortal without making it eternal.” Now I am very sure that
this meeting is in no such peril as that. Each particular part
of these proceedings has been quite too short for its abundant
merit, and the meeting itself will be all too short to enable us
to utter the feeling of all our hearts. But we may be sure that
the memory of this meeting will last, and that three quarters of
a century hence—and it may be even farther off than that—when
there shall be fifteen millions of Methodist communicants on
this continent by the blessing of God, this meeting may be
remembered by some of the youth here to-day, and it will go down
in permanent form in the Methodist records. I will not extend
the time of the meeting long, lest I should impose upon your
patience; I will not occupy half the number of minutes that the
chairman of the committee has requested me to speak.
We have been very eloquently told how grandly full of history
this last century has been, and how much more this honored
life, which in its earthly form shall soon pass away, contains
than the life of any man who has lived in any century before
this. I recall the sentiment of Bishop Kingsley, who was asked
early in the history of our civil war how old he was, and he
promptly answered, “One hundred and forty-six.” “Why,” said his
questioner, “how do you make that out?” “Well,” he replied, “I
was forty-six years old when the war began, and I have lived a
hundred years since.” Now reckoning upon that principle, which is
the just one, our venerable Father Boehm might well claim to be
a thousand years of age to-day. You have heard in the eloquent
address of our brother from Philadelphia some account of the
wonderful progress we have made within the last century. He did
not tell you what I will add, namely, that since this godly man
began to preach the Gospel there have been ten times as many
copies of the word of God put into circulation as were circulated
before in all the centuries since Moses wrote the Pentateuch; and
that within the same space of time there has been a great deal
more done in extending the Gospel into the regions beyond, in
obedience to that inspiring “Go!” which the Lord Jesus put at the
back of his apostles before he ascended into heaven, than in all
the other ages before. What a century that makes of the one in
which we live! Of this work, by the blessing of God, our honored
guest is no small part: and more, that sublime temple, in which
he stands so tall and strong a column, the temple of Methodism,
is no small part.
My dear friends, I stand here not to attempt what now would
be impossible—any thing further in the line of the touching,
delicate, and eloquent personalities which have been so fitly
spoken here to-day, and which have thrilled our hearts with
delight. I cannot pluck another flower from anywhere to adorn
the wreath that these brethren have woven for this godly man. I
will say a few words concerning that grand system of religious
revival and propagandism which he helped to build when it was
weak, and which gathers us here to-day. And what is it—this great
religious system, so mighty for the world’s evangelization, by
God’s blessing? If I had an hour to speak here on this occasion,
I would say that the secret of the wonderful success of Methodism
is to be sought, in part, in its doctrinal system, in part in
its ecclesiastical peculiarities, and still more largely in its
religious experience.
Concerning the first of these points, I could not summarize
our doctrinal teachings, speaking in this impromptu way, half
so well as they have just been stated in the poem. Of course
our fathers adhered to all the great truths which the Church
had held through all time, but they lopped away some of the
errors, and were commissioned by God not to add any new truth,
(for the truth was perfect when the canon of Scripture was
closed,) but to re-emphasize some of the old and forgotten
verities; and so when they went forth into regions in England
and America where the dry rot of religious thinking, which men
call theology, had misled the minds of the people and had dulled
their sensibilities—when they went forth preaching to all men
that they were really in peril of eternal death, and that there
was offered to them in the Gospel, by their lips, _salvation_—a
present salvation, a conscious salvation, a full salvation—no
wonder they found a hearing. That was the proclamation that these
men every-where made; and these important truths, hidden in the
creeds before, or at least not brought out, held up as flaming
torches before the faces of men, needed only to be so presented
to light up the dull eye and warm the frozen heart of the world.
Not only in the emphasis which they laid on these truths did our
fathers do a grand work for the world. We had also important
ecclesiastical peculiarities. The first of these that arrested
the attention of men seventy-five years ago in America, and one
hundred and twenty-five years ago in England, was our itinerant
ministry. The preacher did not stand still in one place and wait
for the people to come to him, but went to them with the offer
of the Gospel of the Son of God, because he felt within him the
pressure of that almighty “Go!” of the Lord Jesus Christ, which
impelled him on to preach the word with power. After a man’s
attention had been arrested by Methodism, the next thing was to
invite him to the class-meeting. The preacher, seeing the tears
streaming down his face, and going to him after the sermon, would
ask him—not “Do you believe the Thirty-nine Articles?” nor “Are
you willing to be damned for the glory of God?”—but he would
simply say, “Do you desire to flee from the wrath to come, and to
be saved from your sins?” and if he said “Yes,” he would be told,
“Here is Brother Jones, a class leader, go to his class next
Thursday night.” The people also found that a man who wielded
the hammer on the anvil from Monday to Saturday went forth on
Sunday and preached the Gospel. So there was a lay ministry, and
that was another peculiarity of the ecclesiastical polity of our
Church. Concerning these and all the rest I will simply say, that
the grand peculiarity of all was, that it was not a man-made
system, devised in the brain of John Wesley or any body else,
but simply a leading forth, under the providence of God, and by
the hand of God, of godly men to bless and save the world. There
is not a single peculiarity of Methodism that was not a child of
Providence. John Wesley never intended one of them. So we are
followers of Wesley when we follow God. To him who would follow
the path in which John Wesley trod, if Wesley were alive to-day
he would say, “God is our leader, follow him.” And yet in doing
this I am persuaded that we should wisely heed the sentiments of
that eloquent utterance of Bishop Asbury in the letter that has
just now been read to us. Let us hope, and pray, and beseech,
clinging to the very horns of the altar, that every change made
in the policy of this grandly successful Church may be manifestly
“made by God and not by men, who have long been trying to be
their own bishops.”
After all, as it seems to me, the greatest thing in Methodism,
from the beginning until now, has been its religious experience.
Why, my dear sir, God’s way of making any great truth effective
is not by writing it in the Bible, but on the fleshly tables of
men’s hearts. There is not a single one of those old verities
which are vital to our faith but has been in the world, but has
been in the Book, for almost nineteen centuries; and yet the Dark
Ages passed over the world for all that. Pardon of sin, salvation
through faith alone, was already within the Book of God; but the
people did not heed it until God put it in the heart of Martin
Luther, and when he told it the world believed him, and hence the
Reformation.
And so in the time of the Wesleys, and in the time of their
followers in England and America, the power of God was made
manifest through their experience. It was not simply the
ecclesiastical peculiarities that they held to, it was not simply
the doctrines they taught; it was those doctrines set on fire in
their hearts that made people learn the lesson, and that alone.
My dear friends, there is not a single truth of Christianity
which has not been in some age of the world buried, and buried
out of sight; and every such truth, when exhumed, has been
exhumed in this way: God has taken it and put it into the living
soul of a living man, and it has possessed him, and then he has
gone forth and declared it, and men have believed him. Look at
the old truth of the universality of the offer of the Gospel. The
great commission should have taught this to the Apostle Peter.
But long after that you find him hiding away from the Gentiles,
not holding to their company, until God set him right at last
by a vision from heaven, and he came forth and said what one
would have thought his personal experience with Jesus should
have taught him long before:—Peter came forth and declared, as
though he had found something new, “I perceive that God is no
respecter of persons.” And away down the ages, until a century
ago, the Church was possessed by the same Jewish bigotry. It is
within the life-time not only of our venerable patriarch, but of
others here to-day, that at a meeting of ministers the question,
“Will any young minister suggest to us a subject for discussion?”
was asked, and up rose William Carey and said: “Mr. Chairman, I
suggest for discussion this theme, ‘The duty of the Christian
Church to evangelize the heathen world,’” and the old gray-haired
moderator, Dr. Ryland, said: “Sit down, young man, sit down; when
God gets ready to convert the heathen he will do it without your
help or mine.” But the great truth was hidden in the hearts of
William Carey, Adoniram Judson, and Thomas Coke, and they went
forth and proclaimed it, and the world is beginning to believe it.
So with the knowledge of sins forgiven; by the witness of the
Spirit Methodism has done much to make this precious experience
the common heritage of the Evangelical Church of to-day. A
century and a half ago I doubt if there were ten men in all
England who dared to say they believed that doctrine. When
Benjamin Abbott was past thirty years of age, he had never heard
a man say he knew his sins forgiven; and when he proclaimed it
as his experience a deacon told him it was a dangerous heresy,
and every man who held it ought to be put to death. And that
within this century! But, my dear friends, after fifteen years of
such service of God as few men have ever rendered—after fifteen
years of such apostolic zeal for the relief of the poor, and
the religious instruction of prisoners, and the bringing to
morality and decency of the lowest of the sinful, as few men have
ever passed through—a young man of Lincoln College, Oxford, at
the age of thirty-three or thirty-four, hearing a Moravian read
from one of Luther’s Commentaries about justification by faith
alone, says that in that meeting, about half past eight o’clock
in the evening, his heart was “strangely warmed;” and then
Methodism was born. If it had not been for that strange warming
of John Wesley’s heart we would not be here to-day. It was the
vitalization, in the experience of the Methodists, of the old,
forgotten doctrine that made them mighty, and sent forth this
“great religious movement,” as Stevens so well calls it, “of the
eighteenth century.”
I must not multiply words, sir. It is my prayer that in all the
changes of our Church polity we may “make haste slowly;” that in
all matters of Christian doctrine we may follow the word of God,
and may have the truth interpreted to us as it was to Wesley, by
the illuminating light of the Spirit, and that the great power
of Methodism may ever be the power of its scriptural, personal,
joyous experience.
Rev. David W. Bartine, D.D., delivered the closing address.
DR. BARTINE’S ADDRESS.
I feel weary at this moment with the journeyings of a hundred
years—with the reasonings, the preaching, and the toil of a
hundred years. And I presume that this congregation is weary
too—weary for once with perfect delight in the enjoyment of
an entertainment that we shall never forget, with a pleasure
that will thrill our hearts till our feet touch the cold waters
of Jordan. I am one of Father Boehm’s boys, and I delight in
the privilege afforded me to-day, at the closing moments of
these profoundly interesting services, to say so. When I was a
little babe, (of course I don’t remember the circumstance, but
my friends remember it,) Father Boehm, in company with Bishop
Asbury, came to my father’s house. (My father, you know, was one
of the old pioneers, a plain, grand old man, a hero through and
through, who met the heresies to which my brother referred awhile
ago and helped to conquer them.) Well, they came to my father’s
house, and the bishop baptized me, as Father Boehm remembers
and has often told me; and that put me in the succession, and I
am as perfectly in the apostolic succession to-day as any man
in America or in the world—not simply because the old bishop
baptized me, but, my friends, afterward God converted me in the
old-fashioned Methodist style. I learned the great principles of
this wondrous Church in the company of such learned men as these,
(pointing to Father Boehm,) sitting at their feet, listening to
their words, and being taught in the schools of which they were
the prophets. And I glory to-day that I feel like clinging to the
good old-fashioned Methodist style.
In the year 1832, when I was a boy—and I suppose as we sometimes
say, in cant phrase, somewhat “green”—I received a message from
this venerable father inviting me to attend a camp-meeting; and
those meetings were real camp-meetings; the people went there
to pray all the time, and to look for the baptism of the Holy
Ghost. I went, trembling, fearing, feeling utterly disqualified
for the work I had entered on, and which I believe God called me
to undertake; and I shall never forget the kindly greeting this
precious father gave me as I entered those grounds. He took all
the fear from my heart, and greeted me with a cordiality I have
never forgotten; he said a few kindly, loving, simple words, that
strengthened my heart through and through, and from that day to
this I have been blessed and honored with the friendship of this
venerable man of God.
If I had time to-day I should like to give a number of
reminiscences which I could present, but the time has passed
so rapidly that the close of these interesting services is
necessarily near at hand. And before we separate this afternoon
let us congratulate ourselves that we still have preserved among
us such a grand specimen of the Methodism of the olden time. Dr.
Foss presented us with some very interesting thoughts upon this
subject, and that is one of the points I intended to present. But
every one who has spoken to-day has stolen some of my thunders,
so that I am compelled to manufacture thunder as I go along; and
I find that its manufacture is not so easy a matter when others
have used your material so freely as have these brethren who
preceded me to-day.
But let me say to you, my friends, that we are not to treat
lightly an example such as we find in this venerable man.
Concentrated in him is Methodism in its simplest form, in its
purest characteristics—Methodism as I pray God it may go down to
the ages of the future. And I want it to be distinctly understood
that I am not a believer in this modern idea that we are going
easily to improve the system of Methodism which this venerable
man helped to found. It may be tampered with, its success might
be interfered with; but it is not a very easy thing to mend it. I
am willing to be led, as my fathers were, where God shall lead;
but I want to see the footprints of God where I put my feet,
I want to see divine providence indicating the way in all the
wondrous march of this form of Christianity.
There is one thing most assuredly a fact, and that is, that our
system of itinerancy cannot well be improved. I do not know what
Bishop Asbury would say to-day upon this interesting subject:
whether it is the true philosophy to so change our ministerial
arrangements as to continue a man in one or two appointments
during a life-time, and still call it an itinerancy. I want to
say, that though I would not be an “old fogy,” you will find it
a hard thing to improve in this direction that system which has
shaken the world. And the question with me is, whether, with
all the improvement that is claimed for it, it is shaking the
world to-day as it shook it when this venerable father, with
heroic purpose and earnest voice, led on his combined forces
on his grand old districts? The world did shake then; hell did
shake then; the powers of unbelief and heresy did shake then,
as the hosts of God marched on from battle to battle, and from
victory to victory. A great many well-polished shafts were then
hurled by these men of bluntest speech, with both force and
effect, at the heart of the foe; and it is a question worthy of
consideration whether, after all our advancement in learning and
literature, and every thing of that sort—after all our boasted
improvement—there is that real, old, divine unction that shook
the dead Churches, and awakened the sleeping multitudes to a
realization of their need of the saving grace of our Lord Jesus
Christ?
I am reminded of all that, and of the simple effort and simple
prayer that took hold of the citadel of death and Satan, and
through the high and hidden things of the Gospel saved men by
leading them to Christ. In Father Boehm’s early and later days,
when persons would come to the altar to seek the Lord Jesus
Christ, and it was fashionable to kneel and to throw themselves
prostrate upon their faces, they would cry mightily to God and
struggle hard for his mercy, and earnest people gathered around
them with tears, and finally with songs of joy; and it was not
the fashion then to pass around the altar and say, “Sister, do
you feel any better?” “Brother, do you think you have found
peace?” No; that was not the way. The common way was to pray on
until the baptism of the Holy Ghost fell upon them, and without
prompting they declared what God had done for their souls. Now
there are some little points like that which I don’t think we can
improve upon—some points which, if we could retain them in all
our efforts to do good, would be better for the Church and the
world. The very kind of testimony that this venerable patriarch
and his compeers were in the habit of bearing to the world is
what still needs to be borne. We should never speak hesitatingly
upon the one great subject, “That God for Christ’s sake has
pardoned all my sins.” They called it heresy then, they call
it heresy now; but it was and it is a blessed truth that Jesus
Christ had then, as he has now, power on earth to forgive sins,
to change the heart, and make a man to know it.
And then that other doctrine which has not been referred to: it
was a doctrine of Methodism—I have heard this venerable servant
of God preach it, (for I have heard him preach many a time, heard
sweet and precious words from his lips,) the fire of the Holy
Ghost within him, the divine unction resting upon him, while he
would tell us of the power of Jesus Christ to cleanse from all
unrighteousness—it was a doctrine of Methodism that the blood
of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin. And that precious truth
still lives, one of the most beautiful trees of God’s garden. The
religion of Jesus Christ found man dead, polluted, corrupted, and
that tree has so grown that to-day multitudes are plucking from
it the ripe and rich and luscious fruits of living Christianity.
All hail to that patriarch who, sitting in his tent door, watches
to see how the battle is going! All hail to his heart as it fills
to-day with the ancient fire, and flames with the ancient divine
patriotism!
I think there was something said about my closing these services.
I am very sorry Bishop Simpson is not here. We had hoped to
reach the climax of these services in the closing speech of the
excellent bishop. But following all the splendid oratory that
has thundered in your ears to-day, it is a difficult matter
for a small piece of artillery like me to do much on such an
occasion as the present. I do honestly feel, my brethren, that
I am in a very embarrassing position. Just look at it. Here is
a man (Dr. Foss) whom they almost made a bishop at the last
General Conference; here is a man (Dr. Todd) whom I found in the
mountains of Pennsylvania, and sent him on his way as worthy to
be one of the successors of this grand old patriarch; and here
is a distinguished Professor, (Prof. Buttz,) just fresh from
college, with his laurels thick upon him, a man beloved by every
one who knows him. That these brethren have spoken, and spoken so
well, only adds to my embarrassment.
As one of the brethren said, we are not here to cry, “My father,
my father, the chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof!” O
no; we are not even where Joash was when he heard of Elisha’s
illness, and came down to weep over him and cry, “My father, my
father,” etc. But I will tell you where we are. You know it is
Christianity that sanctifies the soul, the baptism of love which
photographs the image of the Eternal upon the human affections,
and extracts the sting from death. Now it seems to me when Father
Boehm shall pass away there will not be any death in it. He has
been under the experience and power of this saving faith so long,
that every thing in that line comes as a matter of course, and
after a little while, when his days are numbered, it won’t be
dying, but going up in a chariot of fire into heaven. It has
seemed to me all the morning as though we were taking the last
three miles’ walk that Elijah and Elisha took after they got
over Jordan. You remember that last three miles’ walk, perhaps
the most delightful incident in the history of the prophet
Elijah. Perhaps we are taking that walk this morning—that last
three miles’ walk. You know Elijah had said—and perhaps we may
imagine Father Boehm saying the same this morning—“Tarry here,
I pray thee: while I go over Jordan,” and the answer was, “As
the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, I will not leave thee.”
No, Father Boehm, these hearts cling to you to-day with all the
ardor of youth, and they mean to cling to you until your spirit
shall ascend to be forever at rest with God the Saviour. These
last three miles—have they not been very pleasant to-day, my
brethren, as we talked over the old patriarch’s history, as we
talked over the glory that looms up in the future? Have we not
rejoiced in it? It has been glorious—this last three miles’ walk!
And it may be (though some of us may pass away before him, as the
sainted Wakeley went from this pulpit and from the company of his
brethren, so unexpectedly and so gloriously to his eternal rest)
that many here may receive what Elisha did, a double portion of
his spirit at the translation of our Elijah. “Ask,” said the
prophet, “what I shall do for thee before I be taken away from
thee.” I know Father Boehm’s heart would ask that question if he
knew the day of his departure was near at hand; and I know the
response of each heart here would be like that of Elisha, “Let a
double portion of thy spirit be upon me.” O God, give us a double
portion of the spirit of the fathers—their spirit of sacrifice,
their spirit of love, their spirit of simplicity, their spirit of
holy earnestness in the pursuit of knowledge, their spirit of
consecration to their blessed work; and that divine unction that
shall make every minister in our Church a power, and every member
of our Church a power, thus presenting the banded forces of our
Methodism moving on in one solid column against the hosts of this
wicked world! That is what we want. May God grant the speedy
dawning of that day!
Meanwhile, brothers and friends, the old bark is approaching
the haven; the hoary head crowned with glory proclaims the
beaming forth of the light of heaven; that venerable countenance
is illuminated to-day with a supernatural light; as the bark
approaches the haven he is striking his topmast and furling his
sails, and after a little while he will drop his anchor in the
waters that are never troubled, amid scenes and under skies that
are never overcast with clouds. The old pilgrim rests to-day
on the top of his staff. O, I am so thankful that a beautiful,
calm twilight is shining softly upon his soul as he approaches
“that bourne whence no traveler returns”—to that river which, as
Payson says, has become a rivulet to him, over which he shall
step at any moment when God shall permit! God grant that there
may be no shadow on Father Boehm’s life in this world, and if it
please God, that he may be permitted to remain among us longer
yet as a living example. For we have a century of history, of
ecclesiastical policy, and of preaching Christ with saving power,
all concentrated in this venerable old man, a monument that
stands firm amid passing years, and throws its light upon the
traveler to the world of spirits, and the home of the good and
the pure.
The quartet choir then sang the closing centennial hymn, written by Fanny
Crosby:—
Eternal, ever-present Lord,
We lift our grateful hearts to thee,
In praise for what our ears have heard,
And what our eyes this moment see.
’Tis by thy providential care
That he, whose name we all revere,
Is with us in thy house of prayer,
And celebrates his hundredth year.
As thou on Israel’s tents of old
Didst bid the cloudy pillar shine,
To us, thy chosen, now unfold
Its light and majesty divine.
And as we leave this hallowed place
Thy benediction we implore
To him, our sire; O grant thy grace,
And keep us all for evermore.
We may not meet again as now;
But when a few more days have passed,
In thine own kingdom may we bow,
And each receive a crown at last.
It was announced that, by advice of his physician, Father Boehm would
have to dispense with all congratulatory hand-shaking, a single
exception, however, being made in favor of the mother of President Grant.
The services were closed with the benediction, pronounced by Father Boehm.
EVENING RECEPTION.
From eight o’clock till ten, on the evening of the same day, the parlors
of Father Boehm’s son-in-law and daughter, Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Emley, at
59 Wayne-street, Jersey City, were thronged with a goodly company of
friends, who came to spend the last hours of the day with the venerable
centenarian.
Among others, there were present Rev. Dr. J. S. Porter of Burlington,
N. J.; Rev. Dr. D. W. Bartine and wife of Morristown; Rev. R. Vanhorne,
Presiding Elder of the Jersey City District, and wife; Rev. John
Atkinson, of the Trinity Church, and wife; Rev. J. L. G. M’Kown, of the
Hedding Church, and wife and daughter; Rev. A. J. Palmer, of the Waverly
Church, and wife; Mr. and Mrs. Dusenbury, Mr. and Mrs. J. O. Rouse, Mr.
and Mrs. Hopping, Prof. Martin, David Taylor, Esq., H. N. Ege, Esq., S.
Sterling, Esq., and Dr. Walter Haddon, Father Boehm’s physician.
They were most delightful hours, those two, and they will live long in
the memory of the happy people present.
The “hero” of the hour was happy as his guests, and received their
congratulations with thankfulness to God. His strength seemed remarkable,
for he had participated in the prolonged services of the morning, yet
seemed in no way weary till a late hour at night. After an hour’s
conversation presentations were the order, and many beautiful mementos
of the love of his friends were given to Father Boehm. The gift of his
son-in-law was a magnificent marble clock. Several superb bouquets and
baskets of flowers were presented to him by other friends. Dr. Porter,
in behalf of his daughter, handed him a huge cake, elegantly frosted,
and lettered “One Century,” saying that he (Dr. Porter) remembered that
Father Boehm used to be fond of cake and cream when he was a visitor
at his house many years ago. Then Dr. M’Kown, in a neat little speech,
presented him with a picture, the “Rock of Ages,” from loving friends.
Perhaps the most unique souvenir of all was a chest of tea, containing
four choice kinds of that commodity, and bearing in printed letters the
inscription, “Father Boehm’s Centennial Tea,” which had been sent all
the way from China as a present by Rev. S. L. Baldwin. Rev. A. J. Palmer
read a letter from Brother Baldwin, which accompanied the tea, in which
the writer expressed his pleasure in having been united for years with
Father Boehm in conference relations, (both are members of the Newark
Conference,) his congratulations, and his gratitude to God for the long
and pure life with which the venerable Father had been blessed. This
token of love from the other side of the world was highly appreciated,
and a “drawing” of the tea was presented to each of the guests of the
hour.
One year before that evening Dr. J. B. Wakeley had presented Father
Boehm with a picture of Bishop Asbury, since which time the giver, who
was a dear friend of the recipient, has “fallen asleep in Jesus.” So,
with great fitness, Rev. J. Atkinson presented Father Boehm with an
elegant portrait of Dr. Wakeley, which was received in silence, but with
appreciation.
Thus with presents and congratulations the evening passed. When it was
ten o’clock Father Boehm rose, and in a clear, full voice, sang a little
German song which he had learned ninety-five years before from his German
teacher, a Hessian soldier, whom Washington captured at Trenton. Then,
last of all, when the hour of parting came, the venerable man of God
pronounced the benediction upon the company ere they separated.
Thus ended the exercises, public and private, on the one hundredth
anniversary of the birthday of the Rev. Henry Boehm.
The words oftenest upon his lips throughout the day were echoed by all,
“The Lord be praised!”
CHAPTER XLVIII.
CENTENNIAL SERMON AND OTHER SERVICES IN JOHN-STREET CHURCH, NEW YORK.
On the morning of Sunday, June 27, 1875, Father Boehm preached his
centennial sermon in the Methodist Episcopal Church in John-street. It
was a notable event, and among the congregation memory and imagination
were both busy with the associations and thoughts suggested by it. When
he preached what was called his centennial sermon before the Newark
Conference, in the preceding April, he had not quite completed his one
hundred years; but now he was a genuine centenarian, and the interest
of the occasion was heightened by the place in which he preached his
real centennial sermon. His first visit to the old church, which stood
on the present site in John-street, was made in company with Bishop
Asbury on the 7th of May, 1809, of which he wrote: “What thoughts crowded
my mind as I entered this cradle of Methodism! What rich and hallowed
associations cluster around this original home of Methodism on this
continent!”
But to those who were present at the services in question, as well as
to the venerable centenarian who revisited the place after so long a
period, the occasion was one of singular and peculiar interest. Here
was the oldest Methodist minister of the world preaching in the oldest
Methodist church—an event which may well be called unique, an incident
seldom seen, even once in a century.
The church was crowded. Among the clergymen present were Bishop Janes;
Rev. N. G. Cheney, pastor of the church; Rev. Dr. Reid, Missionary
Secretary; Rev. Dr. De Puy, Rev. Dr. Holdich, Rev. Mr. Dikeman, and
Rev. Dr. Dean, of East Tennessee. After a voluntary on the organ the
congregation joined in singing
“From all that dwell below the skies.”
Dr. Holdich led in prayer. During the preliminary devotional services
Father Boehm, accompanied by some of his most intimate friends, entered
the church and took a seat in the pulpit beside Bishop Janes. Our
senior bishop looked to be in the bloom of youth beside the venerable
centenarian. The tender and affectionate manner in which the bishop
assisted him in the service suggested the most touching attention of son
to sire. After singing the hymn commencing,
“When all thy mercies, O my God,”
the whole congregation showed their respect for Father Boehm by rising
as he came forward to begin his sermon. Opening the Bible, he announced
his text, and in a clear voice spoke fluently as follows, amid the
profoundest silence:—
FATHER BOEHM’S SERMON.
“Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my
voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup
with him, and he with me.”—REV. iii, 20.
We have set before us in this passage an astounding
condescension. The Great Being condescends to come and stand at
the door of our hearts and knock, and wait for an entrance. This
is indeed a wonderful condescension; for here it is set before us
that the blessed Jesus, who has all power in heaven and in earth,
condescends to come down to dependent, sinful beings, and wait at
the door for voluntary entrance. “I stand at the door and knock.”
This refers, no doubt, to the impression made upon the mind, the
sensibilities aroused with fear and with hope. This sets before
us the working of the gracious influences upon the heart of man,
and they wait for a voluntary entrance. The Lord condescends
to knock, and this knocking implies a call—“If any man hear my
voice, and open the door.” Jesus will not break the door; he will
not enter by forcible means. There must be voluntary consent
on the part of the subject, who must invite the Holy Spirit to
come in with his gracious influence and divine power. “Behold, I
stand at the door and knock: if any man hear my voice”—that is,
attentively hear my voice—“if any man hear my voice, and open
the door, I will come in.” “I will turn out all that is contrary
to the divine influence. I will sup with him. I will, in its
gracious manifestations, enjoy the divine favor; and I will, as
it were, partake of the blessings that I have provided.” What
condescension! “I will sup with him as though he had prepared all
the feast.” Jesus provides all that is necessary, and then he
condescends to say, “I will sup with him, and he with me.”
Glory to God in the highest for his manifestations, for his
goodness, for his mercy and long-suffering, extending unto
us! O, the goodness of God in sparing us, in giving us this
opportunity for another call, another gracious touch, another
divine influence! O, that our hearts may be opened, and may this
be a day long to be remembered, a day of mercy and power in the
salvation of many thousands of precious souls! Blessed be God for
his divine mercy and goodness! I rejoice that the enjoyment of
the favor of God, the love of God, is something that does not get
old. It is ever new, it is ever precious. It is as precious to my
soul this day as it was many years ago. In the days of my youth
the Lord manifested himself unto my soul and led me to see the
evil that I should shun, and his grace was sufficient to lead me
on; and, bless the Lord! now in advanced years it is the source
of comfort, the source of joy and hope to me. Yes! Look beyond
and what do we see? A bright and heavenly day, a glorious day,
awaits us beyond this vale of tears.
May God in his infinite mercy add his blessing, and may his name
be glorified in the salvation of many precious souls! O what a
change has occurred since I was first at this place—not the same
church edifice, but a church was in this place—in 1809 with the
venerable Bishop Asbury, and many other brethren who have gone
home to their reward! Bless the Lord that he has still a people
here to serve him! O, may their numbers increase many fold, and
may thy name, O Lord, be glorified here in the salvation of
hundreds of precious souls! Amen.
When Father Boehm had resumed his seat Bishop Janes added the following
remarks:—
BISHOP JANES’ ADDRESS.
Elderly people usually appreciate aged men and aged things. They
usually see in them interest, and have for them veneration, and
perceive that there must be in them some strength, some power,
some excellence which sustains them. Younger persons are more
taken with new things, and those that perhaps have more of
show, more that excites present admiration. And this is not
unphilosophical. Our experiences would naturally lead to this
difference of feeling and of regard.
No one, however, can contemplate the spectacle that we have
before us this morning without the conviction to which I have
referred—that there must be something in the constitution and
character and life of our dear father that has contributed to
his great longevity. The British fortress of Gibraltar has stood
through so many continental wars because of its great strength,
because it was impregnable to all the military powers and forces
that were known and employed in those wars. Those very ancient
cathedrals in the Old World that have stood for centuries, and
to-day look as if they were likely to stand for centuries more,
convince us that they were built with great care and with great
strength, or they could not have stood so long the exposure to
the elements and the influence of time. If you go to the mountain
side and look upon the oak that has stood there as long as our
father has lived, and that has battled all the storms of a
century and is still strong, and covered with foliage and beauty,
we know that there must have been perfect soundness in the tree,
and that there must have been great strength in its roots, or it
could not have thus lived, and grown, and still possessed such
beauty in its old age. If there had been the least defect in the
tree that defect would have been seen in its increasing decay
long before this. And if you go into an orchard and look upon
a tree that has given fruitage to two generations, and perhaps
is being covered with moss—some of its topmost boughs may be
leafless, and perhaps sapless—and you see it is still bearing
fruit in its old age, you know that tree was a sound one, and had
been cared for; and because of its perfectness, and because of
the care it has received, it has reached this great age, has been
so fruitful and has benefited so many, and given pleasure to such
multitudes.
The same is true of this individual who has lived one hundred
years. He must have inherited a good constitution, and during
his youth he must have avoided all excesses, and during his
manhood also he must have been, in the language of Scripture,
“temperate in all things.” There can have been indulged no
consuming lust, no excessive indulgence. There can have been
indulged no appetite to excess, but all these bodily appetites,
and passions, and lusts, have been held in abeyance. He has kept
his body under. He has governed himself in all his physical
habits, and in all his physical enjoyments and exercises;
otherwise this “harp of a thousand strings” would not have been
kept in such perfect tune so long. More than this: his mind has
been under government, controlled by right principles and by
proper motives.
There has been no consuming ambition, no burning desire for
wealth, that consumes the vitality both of body and soul. And
when the secrets of human life are understood we shall find
how many of those sudden deaths, and of those suicides, have
resulted in consequence of this terrible ambition to be rich. And
equally corroding, and consuming and destroying, is the desire
for honor. I do not refer now merely to that extended fame after
which the soldier and the statesman and the poet aspire. Those
little ambitions which exist here among us, in our families,
in our social circle—to excel one another in our condition and
surroundings in life, in the furniture of our houses, and the
style of our living—those petty ambitions in families are just as
corroding and destroying as are those grander ambitions to which
I have referred. And, in order to such a life as our father has
lived, and such an age as he has reached, and such an evening
as he enjoys, a good conscience is an absolute prerequisite.
There is not one of us here to-day who believes if he had had
a reproaching conscience, one that disturbed his hours during
the day, and prevented rest at night, that he would enjoy this
tranquil, serene, beautiful old age. One single cause of remorse
would destroy all this beauty and blessing that crowns his life.
Now I make these remarks in order that we may learn wisdom from
his example, that the youth who are here may see the importance
of the strictest bodily habits—eating, drinking, sleeping, all
bodily exercises, and especially the avoiding of all bodily
excesses, and all unlawful lusts, and passions, and appetites.
Avoid them as you would death and hell, for they are the cause of
destruction both in this world and in the world to come.
We also call your attention to that source of strength and power
which has so greatly influenced the character, and governed the
life, and made perfect the experience, of our venerable brother.
As he has told us, he was converted to God in his youth. He gave
his heart to the Saviour in his early manhood, and he has had
through all these years the peace of God, a tranquil soul. O
what a treasure! How rich a boon religion gives in this life!
How sweet the experience which grace imparts! In this governing,
controlling, harmonizing power of religion we have one of the
greatest means of bodily comfort as well as sources of spiritual
delight and joy. And having lived in all good conscience—for I
can say that of him; I have been with him by day and by night;
in the sanctuary, and on the camp ground, and in almost all the
varied circumstances in which itinerant ministers are placed; I
have been thrown intimately with him at times—and I am prepared
to say that he has lived in all good conscience until this day.
He has its sure reward, perfect peace, now. Would God that were
true of all!
O that these young people would appreciate the great blessing of
a good conscience, that gives us serenity, tranquillity, joy,
peace, hope in all conditions, and in all periods of life! A good
conscience! O, as you would be blessed living and blessed dying,
I charge you in no case, under no temptations, allow yourselves
to do that which conscience condemns. Of all the terrors to be
avoided in this world or the world to come remorse is the most
terrible. And I beseech you be so watchful, so circumspect, so
guarded in all your ways, in all your doings, as to escape from
this terrible calamity.
But if any one here to-day has this troubled conscience, let
me point him to the Lamb of God that takes away the sin of
the world. There is forgiveness with God. The blood of Christ
cleanseth from all sin. Here bring your guilty conscience, here
bring your sinful heart. “Behold, I stand at the door, and
knock:” saith the Saviour: “if any man”—a guilty man, an unholy
person—will “open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup
with him, and he with me.” Fellowship shall be restored between
him and his God.
And let us who feel that we are the disciples of the Saviour,
that we have the religion which has done so much for our
brother, and enabled him to do so much for his fellow-men—let
us who stand, take heed lest we fall. O, how many mighty have
been slain! What evidences have we of the frailty of men—even
Christian men—and how fitting and appropriate are the admonitions
of Christianity to watch and pray lest we enter into temptation;
and how much need have we to say daily to our heavenly Father,
“Lead us not into temptation.” Let not our providential
circumstances be such as to afford temptation; let not our
spiritual adversaries approach so as to be permitted to make
their foul suggestions that we fall from our steadfastness and
into sin, and bring reproach upon Jesus, and upon ourselves a
gloomy and miserable old age—even though we should be saved “as
if by fire.” Let us take the admonition, and though we cannot
live as long as our dear father, let us live as long as we can,
and let us live to good purpose.
We might just as well be in our graves as above the ground,
provided we are not useful, and useful to others. _The one great
motive for earthly life is usefulness_; and I repeat, we might as
well be in the grave as above the ground if we are not living to
a purpose, if we are not glorifying God, honoring our Maker, and
doing good to our fellow-men.
Now let us not only heed the very gracious language of the text
this morning, (and I am sure none of us will ever forget it, or
forget where we heard it preached from, or by whom, nor shall we
forget the simple, plain, and touching sermon that was delivered
to us from it,) but let us not only heed it and come to God for
personal and present fellowship and fruition, but let us take
the lesson which his example furnishes us of temperance and
carefulness in life, of devotion to God, of maintaining such a
spirit as secures us peace, that we may be enabled to do our
duty with joy, consolation, and success, and come down to the
evening of life with a sweet spirit, with a calm mind, with a
joyous heart, and with a hope full of immortality. May God give
us all his blessing, and whether we live shorter or longer upon
earth, grant that we may live for evermore in heaven, with all
the good and glorified through Jesus Christ. Amen.
Dr. J. Morrison Reid, Missionary Secretary, had been requested to make
some remarks, but declined, thinking it better not to prolong the
services by delivering an address.
Bishop Janes, after announcing that fact, made merely a passing allusion
to this happy meeting in sweet Christian fellowship of the oldest
Methodist Church Society with the oldest Methodist Pastor in America,
and, in conclusion, pronounced this benediction on the people and the
pastor: “May the presence of God always abide with this people. And
[turning to Father Boehm] may the presence of God always abide with
you, our dear father! Not only in life, but when you come down to the
valley of the shadow of death, may you have our God with you, his rod
and his staff comforting you; and when your eyes shall have closed upon
the scenes of earth, may you be translated to the beatitudes of heaven,
through Jesus Christ. And through Jesus Christ, with the help of the Holy
Ghost, we will meet you there, and share with you that endless felicity
in the presence and beatitudes of God.”
The seventeenth Hymn (“Before Jehovah’s awful throne”) was then sung by
the congregation, together with the doxology, and Father Boehm pronounced
the benediction. The congregation, by request, remained seated until the
venerable man of God had passed out of the church to return to his home
in Jersey City.
THE END.
FOOTNOTES
[1] This is an Indian name, and is so called from the Conestoga Creek, a
beautiful stream that empties into the Susquehanna. The Conestoga Indians
were once numerous and powerful.
[2] Not Owen, as Lednum and Stevens say. See Minutes, and Quarterly
Review, article by Dr. Hamilton.
[3] Life of Abbott, p. 100.
[4] He was the elder who traveled through the district, as well as
stationed preacher.
[5] See Life and Times of Jesse Lee, p. 366.
[6] After the death of Harry Ennalls his excellent widow married Robert
Carmann at Pipe Creek, and in after years I put up with them when I
traveled with Bishop Asbury.
[7] He joined the conference in 1789, and died in 1808. Bishop Asbury
loved him, and deeply lamented his death.
[8] He was an old preacher; joined in 1788, and died in 1827.
[9] Since this was written my old friends Joshua Wells and Henry Smith
have fallen asleep.
[10] See Arminian Magazine for 1808, p. 373.
[11] Ten years later the funeral sermon of Bishop Asbury was preached
from the same text by the Rev. Ezekiel Cooper, in Philadelphia.
[12] Lawrence Laurenson became one of the strong men of the Philadelphia
Conference, and all over the Peninsula his name is as “ointment poured
forth.”
[13] _Leonard Castle_ was the Summerfield of the Baltimore Conference. He
was converted in a prayer-meeting at Pipe Creek. In after years I knew
his relations there and his brother in Tennessee. His race was short but
brilliant. He was only eighteen when he entered the ministry, and, after
traveling six years, he died of yellow fever in Baltimore on September
21, 1808. He had a splendid intellect and great oratorical powers.
His brethren in the Minutes speak of him “as a happy model of pulpit
simplicity, eloquence, and piety.” They also say, “This astonishing
genius is gone from the thousands of our Israel to the Paradise of God.”
He married the daughter of Rev. Ephraim Chambers. I saw her in all the
loneliness of early widowhood. She was the friend of Mrs. Gough, and I
used to meet her at Perry Hall.
[14] Years ago various denominations built churches in this way, and
thought nothing of this religious gambling. They said the end sanctified
the means. The state legislature would grant them the privilege.
[15] His name was not Peter, but Jacob.
[16] He formerly lived in Baltimore. He was a tailor, and Rev. William
Thacher learned his trade of him.
[17] I was with the bishop at Mrs. Willis’s at other times. When there in
1811 the bishop exclaimed, “Henry Willis! Ah, when shall I look upon thy
like again?” Behold how he loved him.
[18] At the Cincinnati Conference of 1863 I saw the Rev. Aaron Wood of
Indiana Conference. He was converted a fortnight before the bishop and
I were at his father’s in 1808. We talked over the scenes of the past,
and he remembered our visit. He has been over forty years a traveling
preacher. The interview I had with him was most refreshing. I also had
the pleasure of seeing him at the General Conference in Philadelphia in
May, 1864. He offered the concluding prayer when that body separated.
He married for his first wife the daughter of the celebrated William
Beauchamp.
[19] Barnett kept a public house. He was an early settler in the country.
He was quite a character. Famous as the first man in that part of the
country who owned a vehicle with four wheels.
[20] Samuel Edney was a noble man, a genuine Methodist, given to
hospitality. He joined the conference in 1791, and located in 1794. The
bishop and he were great friends. He has a son, Dr. Edney, living in New
York, a member of the Seventeenth-street Methodist Episcopal Church.
[21] Autobiography, p. 90.
[22] The Fryes were originally from Winchester, and were of German
descent.
[23] Stevens’s Memorials of Methodism, vol. ii, p. 443.
[24] With great pleasure I call the attention of the reader to Dr.
George Peck’s excellent works “Wyoming” and “Early Methodism” for full
information concerning this far-famed valley.
[25] Fifty-two years afterward, when in this part of Ohio, I met with
several Germans who heard me preach in their language in 1809.
[26] He was a good preacher and a pleasant man. I traveled with him many
miles. He joined in 1804, and located in 1838.
[27] Journal, vol. iii, p. 332.
[28] The reader will find an account of that memorable conference in
Asbury’s Journal, vol. i, p. 244.
[29] Rev. William Hamilton, in Sprague’s Annals, vol. iii, p. 332.
[30] They were Allen-street and Greenwich Village, now Bedford-street.
Few churches have been more honored of God, or a greater blessing to man,
than these two, and they still enjoy great prosperity.
[31] The old house still remains, with Washington’s table and chair which
he used at the time of the Revolution.
[32] See Lee’s History of Methodism, p. 64.
[33] Lednum’s Rise of Methodism in America, p. 210.
[34] He has died since I made the record.
[35] He proved a degenerate son of his worthy sire, being the William M.
Gwin who was senator from California, and afterward implicated with the
southern rebels, now seeking his fortune in Mexico.
[36] The bishop, in his journal, fell into a little error in relating
this scene; but I have described it just as it occurred, and though over
half a century has passed since that morning we crossed Cape Fear River,
I recollect with minuteness all the circumstances as if they took place
yesterday. It was one of those occurrences not easily effaced from the
memory.
[37] Paul and Hannah Hick of New York informed Dr. Bangs and others it
was Paul Hick’s mother in New York that stirred up Philip Embury to
preach the Gospel. No one denied it for many years. Tho controversy is a
singular one, to say the least of it.
[38] This was found among the papers of Bishop Asbury by the transcriber
of his journals, Francis Hollingsworth, and published in the Methodist
Magazine of 1823. Dr. Bangs copied it in his history, vol. ii, p. 365.
[39] Mr. Keaggy was an estimable man, and his house was one of the
bishop’s homes. He was a local preacher, and very useful. He was the
father of Dr. John Keaggy of Philadelphia, long and favorably known in
the literary world.
[40] See “History of the United Brethren in Christ,” by Rev. H. G.
Spayth, published in 1851; also “History of the Church of the United
Brethren in Christ,” by John Lawrence, where the same is copied from Mr.
Spayth’s History. Concerning Mr. Spayth’s History, Mr. Lawrence says it
“is indispensable to a proper understanding of the rise of the United
Brethren in Christ; and the Church in all time to come will be indebted
to him for the most valuable contributions to her early history.”—Vol. i,
p. 6.
[41] Bishop Asbury notices him at the New York Conference of 1813. He
says, “Bishop M’Kendree preached. It appeared as if a ray of divine
glory rested upon him. His subject was ‘Great peace have they that love
thy law, and nothing shall offend them.’ The appearance, manner, and
preaching of Bishop M’Kendree produced a very powerful, effect on Joshua
Marsden, a British missionary.” Mr. Marsden returned to Europe after the
war, did good service, and died in holy triumph. His end, as described by
his affectionate daughter who witnessed it, was very triumphant.
[42] Henry Foxall was an Englishman, and was well acquainted with Bishop
Asbury’s mother. He was converted in Ireland while there on business, and
soon afterward came to this country. He had a foundry in Philadelphia,
on the banks of the Schuylkill, near where the Fairmount water works now
are, and another at Georgetown. I have been in both, and at the latter
saw them casting cannon for the government. I was present when his only
daughter was married by Bishop Asbury to a Mr. M’Kenne. I was well
acquainted with Mr. Foxall, and the bishop and he were like two brothers.
He gave the site for, and built, the new church called “The Foundry.” He
gave it that name for two reasons: first, in remembrance of Mr. Wesley’s
first chapel in London, which was so called; and second, because his
own business was that of a founder. He possessed great business talent
and acquired considerable wealth. He was distinguished for humility,
liberality, and hospitality. He died while on a visit to England in 1823,
at the age of sixty-eight. He left five thousand dollars to the Wesleyan
Missionary Society in England, and five thousand to the “Chartered Fund”
for the relief of worn-out preachers, of which he was one of the early
trustees.
[43] There are many who supposed Mr. Asbury had made provision to give a
Bible to all the children that should be named after him; and therefore,
up to 1861, forty-five years after the bishop was in his grave,
applications were made to the Book Room for Bibles by parents whose
children were named Francis Asbury.
[44] Thinking it would gratify some of my readers, I give the names of
some of the subscribers in this list: Bishop M’Kendree, his father,
James M’Kendree, and his sister; my mother, Eve Boehm, and my sister
Barbara, wife of Dr. Keaggy; Francis Hollingsworth, (the transcriber
of Asbury’s Journal,) and Mary his wife; Revs. W. Beauchamp, Samuel
Parker, (spiritual father of Rev. W. Winans,) H. B. Bascom, (then but
two years in the ministry and eighteen years old,) Jacob Young, James
B. Finley, and John Collins, (the spiritual father of Judge M’Lean;)
the Revs. James Quinn, John Sale, Thomas S. Hinde, (once well known as
“Theophilus Arminius,”) William Burke, (an eloquent preacher, and one of
the pioneers of Methodism in the West,) James Gwin, James Axley, (noted
for his eccentricities and excellences,) and their wives; Revs. Thomas
L. Douglass, (an intimate friend of M’Kendree, and who preached his
funeral sermon,) John M’Gee, (father of camp-meetings in this country,)
Jesse Walker, (pioneer of Methodism in Missouri,) and Peter Cartwright.
These were chiefly from the West. Of southern preachers there were James
Jenkins, Daniel Asbury, William Capers, James B. Glenn, S. Dunwoody,
Lewis Myers, Alexander Talley, W. M. Kennedy, Hilliard Judge, and Edward
Drumgoole, with seven of his family. Among the subscribers north and east
we find the names of Freeborn Garrettson, his wife and daughter; Revs. S.
Merwin, W. Phœbus, W. Ross, W. Jewett, W. Anson, Elijah Woolsey, Heman
Bangs, Arnold Schofield, Smith Arnold, Philip Munger, Asa Kent, George
Pickering, Solomon Sias, (first publisher of Zion’s Herald,) Daniel
Filmore, Martin Ruter, (who found a grave in Texas,) Joel Ketchum, and
Ebenezer Newell. Of the laity in this region we find the names of John
Armitage, John Baker, (in whose house the conference was held at Ashgrove
in 1803,) James Sterling and his wife, of Burlington, N. J.; John
Paradise, (the portrait painter,) W. B. Skidmore, J. B. Oakley, and Grace
Shotwell. The amounts subscribed would be thought very small nowadays.
Some gave a dollar, but most of them much less. Some of the distinguished
preachers I have named gave but twenty-five cents. It was as much as they
were able to give, so scanty were their means.
[45] I traveled forty thousand miles with Bishop Asbury, and since I
entered the itinerancy I have traveled on horseback over one hundred
thousand miles, more than four times the circumference of the earth.
[46] He was literally a man of prayer. He prayed much in secret, and
this accounts for his power in prayer in public. He was in the habit of
presenting each conference and the preachers by name before the Lord.
[47] He had married two sisters of John Emory, Susan and Margaret. He
married the youngest first. They were very amiable. I was well acquainted
with them for years. John Emory married a sister of Mr. Sellers. She
was his first wife and the mother of Robert. Dr. Sellers removed to
Pittsburgh, and recently died there. He was a grandson of Henry Downs.Project Gutenberg
The patriarch of one hundred years : $b being reminiscences, historical and biographical, of Rev. Henry Boehm
Boehm, Henry